[b]Story contains: anal vore, same size vore, shy male Glaceon pred, eager female Glameow prey, non-fatal vore, endosoma, and a friendly, affectionate tone.[/b] The sun is a truly hateful thing. Unfeeling, unrelenting sky-judge of everything under it, and its only judgement was universal, blistering, scorching [i]hate[/i] for all things living. Heat and hate were spelled with the same letters for a reason! Or at least that’s how one glameow felt, and what she would say if anyone asked her. But nobody did ask her. Stupid pricks. The fact she was drenched in sweat, panting and heaving like she was moments from keeling over, yet also walked with a stride that said “if anyone gets in my way, I’ll fucking kill them” had nothing to do with the other park-goers avoiding her. Clearly, they were just pricks. But she always feels like every stranger’s a prick when she’s miserable, and it was impossible to be happy in such oppressive, overwhelming, overbearing [i]heat.[/i] Go ahead and make a wet pussy joke. It’d be the first one she heard that day, because everyone else had the good sense not to set off the feline time bomb. She was hardly the only one drenched; everyone was, in fact. It would be weird if they weren’t seeing as she was miserably marching through a water park. Pools, slides, fountains, ice cream stands, everything anyone could ever want in the deepest bowels of July. Everyone except her, of course. She didn’t even dip her foot in. Not because of some bigoted kitty stereotype that she hated water. No, she loved swimming, practically lived in the one-piece swimsuit that was otherwise quite sexy on her admittedly meager curves - when it wasn’t soaked in angry cat sweat, anyway. But swimming wouldn’t cut it, didn’t cut it, she’d already tried for days! This wasn’t just heat she was dealing with, she was dealing with the sweltering furnace of summer’s hell-womb. She didn’t even know what that meant, but she’d still say it! If anyone asked. Which they didn’t. Stupid pricks. All the same, the water park’s attractions wouldn’t cut it. Temporary relief maybe, but going from the sizzling skillet to the boiling pot is hardly an upgrade. No, she was after a much better solution. And that solution’s name was… “Garth!” she croaked out before she dramatically collapsed onto the counter, her butt awkwardly shuffling onto a stool after the fact. One of those tacky, red leather 50s stools to go with the rest of the tacky 50s diner aesthetic of the hot food stand she’d slumped on, laying limp and 100% done like the burgers served there. The stand was practically abandoned in favor of the many stands serving ice cream, slushies, milkshakes, and all other manner of sweet treats. All expected, but she was still overjoyed; they were gonna need privacy. The glaceon attending the fryer perked up and wheeled around with considerable jiggle around his waist and middle. The sensitive sort would call him generously curvy; the sort with taste would call him adorably plump. Only his friends and boyfriends were allowed to call him a sexy fatass. With his round watermelon gut hanging cutely over his waist and his chubby butt like a pair of plush volley balls, all those names were right on the money. “Glen? What are you doing here?” he asked, ears perked and eyes squinting while he looked her over. “Dying,” Glen wheezed with a weak flick of her ludicrously long tail. She looked up at him as pitifully as she could, her chin still limp on the counter. “Yeah, I can see that part; you look like you got caught in the crossfire of a charizard belching contest!” he fretted. He’d already dashed to the drink dispenser – hardly a dash at all, the inside of the stand was only, like, four yards across – and filled up a cup that was more ice than soda. It took all of Glen’s restraint to not pour the cool cola all over her head as a fizzy shower. Only thing stopping her was that fur sticky with sugar and corn syrup was a bitch to wash out. So she settled for chugging the whole thing in one go like she were a water balloon dying of thirst. She slammed the cup down with a rattle of ice and said, “I wish; I feel like I’m what one of those zards had for lunch!” before letting out a crass soda burp of her own. “Then why are you [i]here?”[/i] Garth asked again, forcefully but vaguely gesturing at every direction that could count as ‘here.’ “Stay in your apartment, take a cold shower, gorge on ice cream, stick your frillies in the freezer!” “Ey, that was only the once!” she snapped, jabbing a finger at him before a wet “brruurrrp” burst out her lips. She paused and retracted her finger with a shaky smirk. “Well, twice now. I tried that again this morning. Tried everything this morning! Went out and bought five fans to cool me off. Five, Garth. Strong breeze on all sides, one aimed squarely up my ass, still felt like I was a melting snickers in your back pocket!” “Why would you-” Garth’s brow both furrowed and rose. “Wait, is your air conditioning broken?” “Broke in the middle of the night,” she grumbled, flicking an ice cube in her mouth and crunching it for emphasis. “Woke up in bed marinating in my own sweat. Four hours later, no change there!” She gestured down at herself pointedly, snorting in disgust. “Didn’t want to bother you at work, but I already felt like burning bacon before the air conditioning broke. This? This, I can’t take anymore!” “Hey, it’s no bother for you to stop by,” he said with a smile. His arm jerked towards her as if to consolingly grab her shoulder, but he thought better of getting his hand soaked in someone else’s sweat and rubbed the back of his neck instead. “But you don’t need my permission to go swimming. I mean, it’s nice that you came to visit me first, but it’s not like you answer to me.” Glen violently crushed her next mouthful of ice cubes and aggressively swallowed it before leaning in, getting in Garth’s face. “No, I’m not here for – [i]brrrap![/i] – swimming! Or soda, or ice chips, or anything else you’ve got behind the counter. I need to go bobsledding, Garth,” she said pointedly, whispering by the end. As if anybody would even know what she meant if they overheard her. Garth understood perfectly, judging by how his face went from blueberry to cherry in zero seconds flat. “Glen, we – I, I’m at work! Do you want me to lose my job? Because this is how you lose a job! Hell, this is how you lose a job and get a lawsuit, doing that so close to the food,” he whisper-hissed back. “Keep your dick aimed at the floor and there’s literally no chance you’ll make a mess near the food. It’s almost your lunch break anyway, right? Pulling the shutters down for ten minutes won’t draw any attention, and nobody’s gonna want hot food on a day like this,” she listed before letting out the little burp she was holding. Garth’s face scrunched up in thought for a few seconds before shaking his head. “I don’t know, Glen. I don’t think I’m comfortable being this… public!” “Nobody will see, nobody will know,” she assured. Her tail twitched, along with her fingers, her eye, her shoulders, her everything. The cold soda bubbling in her stomach wasn’t helping anymore; the only sensation that remained was the sheer intensity of the summer sun boiling her in her own fur. “You’re the only employee at this stand anyway, so it’s not public at all. Please, please, [i]please[/i] Garth! We’ve been doing this every unbearable summer day since high school!” “Yeah, during sleepovers after our parents were in bed, or in our own apartments after we grew up,” he said. His hips shifted shyly, unconsciously, at the many memories that rushed by. Glen put her hands on Garth’s shoulders and squeezed with a firm familiarity, a tender tightness. “Garth… please,” she said, not above begging anymore. “I wouldn’t ask at work if I wasn’t miserable, right?” He didn’t flinch or pull away, in fact relaxing at her touch. Eye contact was avoided, though. “Right.” “And have any of the risks I’ve roped you into ever been stupid ones?” she asked with a little shake of his shoulders. He made a noise between a huff and a whine, bringing himself to meet her gaze. “No.” Glen held him a little tighter, shoulders tensing and fur bristling as much as it could soaked with sweat. “Then…?” He huff-whined a bit louder and longer before nodding. “L-let’s get you bobsledding for the day, Glen,” he said, meek and shy and blushing up redder than a blaziken’s thigh. Glen’s sigh of relief could only be compared to an orgasm, it released so much pent-up tension. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…!” she said over and over again while she circled around to the back door of the stand. She couldn’t help but jog in place, she was so excited and anxious. The second he unlocked the door, she bolted in like a dog left in the rain. “You’re a life saver!” It wasn’t until the two were together that their height difference was brought into sharp relief. He stood a whole head taller than most men, a gentle giant of love and chub. She stood a head shorter than most women, doomed to forever be eye-level with everyone’s cleavage. Side by side, she was always a glance down away from making eye contact with his bellybutton. “T-tone down the asskissing, I’m not even bent over yet!” Garth joked as she shut the door behind her and he lowered the security blinds. The two were bathed in rapturous darkness, shielded from the seething sun save for the strands of light slipping through the gaps. His hand went for the lightswitch, but she grabbed his wrist to keep him from flipping it. “Never needed light to feel my way around, Big G,” she said, her impish smile and eager, teasing eyes half-hidden in the shadows. His breath caught in his throat and a shy shiver ran through him before he pulled his wrist away from the light switch, getting her to let go. “Nope, nope, nope nope nope, no high school pet names, this feels weird enough at work already!” he said, lightly pushing her back by her shoulders. She giggled a tired, weak giggle with a writhing flick of her tail. Even baking in the summer heat and melting into a puddle of sweat, she couldn’t help but get some teasing in. “Okay, okay, let’s get right to it, Garth, I’m dying here!” “Just give me a sec, I’m not exactly wearing pajama pants like at home,” he said, fiddling with his belt. His job had him wearing a pair of loose-fitting khaki shorts to go with his company logo shirt. Well, loose-fitting in theory. There weren’t any pants made by man that could fully hide Garth’s love handles. The uniform was still a shame, though; he could really rock a tight swimsuit like few men could ever dream to. “Urgh, there we go,” he grunted, finally unbuckling his belt. He didn’t let it drop until he turned around, though. He was always shy about letting her see his maleness. More than a bit silly, considering what “bobsledding” entailed. Absurdly cute, but silly as hell all the same. His belt and shorts fell to his ankles with a metallic clatter, exposing his boxers. His blue, tight, plaid, cotton, tight, tight, [i]tiiiiight[/i] boxers. She’d seen thongs on her misery march through the water park that flattered the figure less than Garth’s boxers. It brought to mind that time in freshman year when she stuffed her bra with a pair of cantaloupes during her insecure phase: just as round, just as snug, but unmistakably real. It was impossible to fake the kind of jiggle that rippled on his rump while he wiggled his hips to force his boxers down, slowly revealing inch upon inch of plush, furry blue butt until he finally got them down around his knees. Glen didn’t wait for the usual, gentlemanly spreading of his cheeks. She pounced on his chubby butt like any cat on a mouse, or more aptly, pounced like any mouse into its burrow to hide from a chasing cat. She practically dove hands first right under his tail and pawed as far as they would go, and then kept going. The lips of his pucker were cold and slick and soft like jello fresh out of the fridge. A tight clench and startled yelp from Garth hardly slowed her down; his ass was always so loose and roomy. By the time he shakily moaned out his next breath, she was up to her elbows in glaceon booty and eagerly pressing her head in. Her whiskers pressed against her face while she wedged and wiggled her head deeper up her friend’s tubby butt. Every feline instinct inside her screamed “no, no, you’re not gonna fit kitty, abort!” She knew to ignore the intense, primal discomfort. Garth wasn’t ignoring his own very well; she felt him waggle his ass side to side like a kid with an itch he couldn’t scratch, his tickly fur and firm chub grinding her head side to side and driving her whiskers even more crazy. She wildly whapped his right bumcheek with her cottony tail a few times to tell him to keep still. After a moment’s wait to let him settle down, she closed her eyes, held her breath, and pushed her face up against the silky lips of his asshole. Garth’s puffy pucker quivered against her nose, shut tightly on reflex. A deep groan of uncomfortable pleasure echoed down to her through his pudge, vibrating on all sides. Glen could’ve just rammed her whole head in, his ass was so chronically loose, but she spared a moment to ease him into it. She gently nudged her head forward more insistently on the outside, and gently kneaded the flesh of his ass in her hands on the inside. His pucker loosened and she earned a cute, pleased grunt from her gracious host. Must’ve been how Garth treated his dildos: moments of clenching resistance before settling in with a relaxed, satisfied ass. Wondering about what it’s like to be your gay guy friend’s dildo wasn’t weird, right? No, she decided, not weird at all; was just natural given how often she used his booty as summer shelter. Glen eagerly shoved her head all the way in and took a gasping breath, her lungs aching from how long she held it. She opened her eyes as well, more out of habit. It wasn’t like she could see in the pitch-black darkness of Garth’s ass. Though if she could, she’d bet that she could see her misty breath in the chill. His bowels were so delightfully cold it made her want to squeal in joy and relief! It wasn’t an overwhelming, dangerous sort of cold; it was gentle and crisp. It felt like that first rush of icy air when she opened her fridge, but instead of a fading moment she was bathed in that feeling. She didn’t stop to enjoy it for long. She was only neck deep into Garth’s icebox butt, and the rest of her was still baking in the summer heat. With an almost literal fire under her ass she resumed her squirming, her legs pushing off the ground and her hands pulling her in one fistful of bumchub at a time. Garth twitched and wriggled and moaned all around her while she climbed deeper into him. Her shoulders and breasts, petite as they were, still stretched his tailstar achingly wide. He wasn’t afraid to let her know with rapid, distressed gasps and shuddering clenches. That was always the hard part, the peak of the metaphorical mountain of butt stuffing. But after her waist was slurped snuggly past his pucker, the rest of the slide inside was smooth and soothing. As far as his plump rump was concerned, anyway, as he sighed with relieved bliss and she pulled her hips between his chubby asscheeks. His front was another story. The needy throbbing of his cold cock begged for the tender touch of his fingers to bring some relief – or savage, passionate stroking until cum spurted out between his fingers like a violently leaking dam. His dick wasn’t really that picky about pace. Garth could never bring himself to scratch that sexual itch, though. It was hardly his fault that Glen crawling up his roomy ass got him, well, [i]hard,[/i] but pawing off with his bestie up his butt would just be weird. Right? That train of thought was delightfully derailed by Glen twisting her legs around corkscrew style. She’d just dragged her own itty bitty kitty butt into his icebox asshole and needed to twist around so she could get comfortable when she was all the way in. To him, shoving her shoulders into his raw rectum was the hardest part; to her, the hard part was twisting her whole body around thigh-deep in her buddy’s bum. Roomy as his ass might be, it was still more snug than a chimney on a poorly thought out Christmas Eve. A fleshy, flexing, clenching chimney that was very tender and ticklish. Her twisting was a pure feat of flexibility, it was, made all those years of gymnastics as a kitten entirely worth it. By the time she was done twirling under his tail, Garth was left panting heavily, weak in the knees, and dripping pre on the floor. The feel of her furry thighs dragging along the inside of his pucker’s lips was an overwhelming bliss. He so deeply wanted to bask in the sensation even after she stopped, but the whapping of her cottonball tail against his butt urged him to get going. Glen was so deep in him that she stood on her tiptoes, her legs reduced to useless, desperate kicks and flails to escape the heat. It was time to suck it up and suck her in. He braced against his knees and fully bent over like he was draped across a table and presenting his needy ass, the underside of his chubby gut pressing against his cushy lap. His fat bumcheeks flexed firmly and his exposed asshole wetly slurped to swallow her up. Glen relaxed as her gracious host took over. They’d found that dragging herself in deeper with her clawing paws only threw off the tempo of his clenching ass and bowels, slowed her journey down more than sped it up. Aside from a few weak kicks while his tailhole sucked up her legs, she lounged in the lovely cold. The sleek, cushy flesh of her bestie’s booty rippled over her body, from those lips under his tail, to across her spine, to around her head, over and over and over again. It was a rhythm of tight embraces washing over her, squishing over her; it was like drowning in cool, crisp, plush affection. A part of her she didn’t like to talk about, the part of her beating in her chest and aching between her legs, couldn’t help but find it so completely, utterly… [i]sensual.[/i] She let a moaning meow out of her lips to echo into the depths of Garth’s ass, muffled and hopefully unheard. She breathed quick and shallow after her little mewling outburst, panting to get her mood firmly back under her control. So close, so very close. So close to escape from the searing heat for the day, to getting snug in her bestie’s butt, and to busting his boxers right down the middle if he wasn’t careful. Garth’s tailstar was suckling uselessly on her knees; she must’ve gotten so caught up in her carnal cry that she didn’t notice he’d done his part already. Paws tight around fistfuls of flesh and bum giving little catlike wiggles, she pulled her legs into his ass with slow care. First her shins, then her ankles, then at last her feet slipped in with a wet little slurp. Garth shakily sighed through a wide, satisfied smile. Ease spread through his every muscle like a tightly twisted spring finally allowed to unwind. All that tension gave way to the soft warmth of gentle pride. Getting asked to let her climb up his asshole, awkward as all hell, but after the fact… he could never help but feel impressed with himself. Delighted, even! The sort of delighted that made his heart light and his toes curl. Little coos and grunts rose from his throat while Glen shifted and squirmed to fold her legs under herself, bend her knees. He glanced over his shoulder at her twitching tail behind him, rising high from the cleft of his chubby, blue butt. His grin tilted with lusty mischief. Visions of strutting through the mall like this danced in his head. Just a casual stroll in public, a second feline tail swaying behind him, poking out the wide seat of his jeans… oh, how he wished she’d let him do that. Sometimes. Even he wasn’t sure he’d have the balls to do it after the tingling pride wore off. Glen settled down for the most part after her legs were tucked in and her butt was firmly sitting on her feet. She waggled her rump to break in her seat before turning attention on her tail. Even fully encased in Garth’s ass, several feet of her tail remained swaying outside him. Expecting him to slurp it up like a noodle took more time and work than it was worth, they’d both decided. So she grabbed her tail in her own two hands and starting pulling. Wet and slippery sounds echoed up to her while she reeled in her tail like fishing line and wrapped it around her waist. Sitting on her own tail was a mild discomfort compared to letting it tangle and knot without her hips to hold it in place. Inch by inch, tug by tug, she dragged her tail up into Garth’s asshole until, at last, the cottonball tip pressed against those lips. She tugged a tiny bit more, pulling the tip of her tail partly into his pucker, then stopped. The tuft of fluff lodged in there was the perfect cork for her. A tickly giggle left Garth’s lips as he stood up straight at last. Hard not to giggle when something tickly was stuck in his pucker, shifting against the tender flesh with every move he made. He bit his lip, smiling all the same and giggling behind it. His rumpcheeks pressed back together with the full weight of his body, sealing them up tight under his tail. There was no sign on his fat ass that Glen had climbed inside, that he cradled her snugly between his hips. The only sign of his guest was a few inches of sagging bulge in his lower tummy, just under his bellybutton. He bit his lip harder, brought his hands up to his gut to feel her heft and weight. An elated, peaceful smile spread on his face, just feeling how heavy she was. Inside, Glen made one more experimental squirm to get comfortable in Garth’s icebox butt for relaxing. She was almost the perfect fit, right down to the winding of his intestines. Her hips sat at the first bend in his bowels, her tush sinking into his cushy assfat, and her shoulders brushed up into the second bend, her head laid out and resting on folded arms. If she wasn’t surrounded by glacey fat she’d be in the same posture bored at a bar. It was like his colon was made for her, the socket where her entire body fully clicked into place. A soft little purr rumbled in her throat at the absurd, shameful idea. Her fleshy cradle shift and squished, one side to the other; Garth was walking. To the sink, specifically, to wet a rag and grab the disinfectant. Their sleepovers in the past taught them to clean up right away before he slipped into a post-bobsledding coma. Far too many close calls in the morning, scrambling to hide the evidence and get her out before their parents found out. Another few moments of shifting and squishing before gravity greatly shifted, almost standing Glen on her head. Garth had bent over to scrub up the puddle of precum that dripped down his dick, happily humming while he did so. “Comfy in there, Little G?” he asked, voice breathless and joyful, before he stood again with the waist of his khakis in hand. Glen chuckled and gently traced a finger along the wall, getting a ticklish giggle from her host. “What happened to ‘no high school pet names’? Besides, it’s Lil G, not ‘little’ you dorky fatass!” she scolded. He couldn’t see her own dorky grin, hidden as she was in his bum, but it was clearer in her voice than on her face. “You’ll always be little to me, Glen~!” he practically sang, bumping his booty from left to right then left again, jostling his guest side to side. He buckled his shorts and pulled his belt snug to his waist, though with Glen snug inside his gut he could only pull his belt to the very first notch. “And you’ll always be ‘cool’ to me, Big G~!” she sang back with a lazy, relaxed wiggle, the seat of his pants and the lower chub of his belly wobbling ever so slightly. “Thanks for this, Garth. You really are the best, you know that?” He patted his hip with a beaming smile, waggling his bum a little in return. “Bossest bestie a girl could ask for, and don’t you forget it.” Her little giggle devolved into a peaceful purr that vibrated gently all through his big bum and lower tum. “Hard to forget, you dork.” Their banter was rudely interrupted by a rumbling groan just above her head, the sound quivering the chub around her whiskers. “Um, eheh, right, it’s still my lunch break,” Garth chuckled shyly. Not shy in the same way as earlier with overwhelming virginal anxiety, but shy in the way someone apologizes for a cute belch on a date that’s going great. “Would you mind if I…?” “Stuff yourself silly, Big G,” she said with a reassuring pat to the fleshy wall. “Don’t mind if I do~!” Glen was gently squished and jostled around while Garth got together whatever lunch he had stashed away. And judging by the squealing scrape, he also pulled up a stool to sit his kitty-stuffed butt upon. She confirmed as much when she found herself smooshed tight against the seat, all his weight shifting off his feet and down onto his big blue booty. She wriggled a little to make some more space, but she was no stranger to this. She couldn’t hear Garth chewing with so much flesh between her and his mouth, but she did hear the first wet gulp. “Before I forget, Glen, I’ve got a date tonight right after work. Going to the movies with this cute little sneasel I’ve been seeing.” Glen tensed up all over, both in her body and in her head. The ache between her legs faded so fast she had vaginal whiplash. “The one with the cock ring and the eyebrow studs?” she asked, kneading her fingers into the chub of his bowels like felines love to do. “Alleged cock ring!” There was a pause and another gulp; his angrily grumbly tummy was starting to settle down next to her. “I’ve never actually seen it yet, but this is our tenth date, sooo that might change tonight. And it’d be kind of awkward if, erm, you were still in me in the heat of the moment, so…” Her ears grew hot and grew pink at familiar images flitting through her mind, of her still snug in his bowels while another man railed him. No, not images. Fantasies. “Say no more, just let me out at your apartment and I’ll hang out there until the air conditioning’s fixed,” she said with an assuring nuzzle into the wall. “Hope you don’t mind me crashing there.” “Stay as long as you need to,” he said with a little grind of his tubby bum into his seat. “Tomorrow’s my day off, so if they still don’t have it fixed in the morning, I’ll send you bobsledding again right after breakfast~!” “I’m holding you to that,” she said with far less enthusiasm than was warranted. The topic shifted, and his body was lively with friendly chatter while she lounged in his bowels and he stuffed his gut, but a niggling feeling lingered. A nagging wish to be a boy, or for Garth to be straight, or for bravery to voice her desires. But it was no big deal. She was incredibly lucky and happy, held tight by the squishy folds of his bowels, snug and loved behind his juicy, jiggling icebox butt, in a more intimate position than anyone else in his life. Or so she felt. Or so she felt she should feel, and would say if he ever asked her. But he never did ask her. Stupid, sexy, lovable prick.