[b]Story contains: anal vore, same-size vore, terrified second-person prey, mischevious male fox pred, implied fatal/perma outcome, and a tone of playful peril.[/b]       

	Redd’s nose twitched. His ear flicked. His tail swished. His arms were crossed as his weight shifted to stay balanced, his Treasure Trawler swaying in the surf under his feet. Was impossible to say what his eyes were doing, though, even if the lighting wasn’t so bad; the whole place felt like a mobile back alley.

       Which was just how he liked it.

       He was listening – well, not really listening. The specific words hardly mattered or registered. Witnessing? No, not that either; if anyone ever asked at any time for whatever reason, 24/7/365, he never witnessed nothin’.

       He was [i]in the same room as[/i] someone who had the gall to march into his business and constantly repeat the one word that he hated the most: refund. Refund this, refund that. Then his second most hated word was thrown around: fraud. The sheer [i]audacity![/i]

       Though for now, he kept his feelings under his apron while he let you rant.

       Which is when you stomped your foot to make sure you had his attention. You flinched, the sound ringing through the small tugboat and straight into your eardrums.

       He just flicked his other ear. Oh, you had his attention, alright.

       After you ran out of things to say and demands to make, Redd put on his salesman’s smile, slid up to your side, and wrapped an arm around your shoulder and his tail around your waist. The grip of his hand was firm, the feel of his tail tickly.

       “You know what, pal,” he said in his syrupy speech, pulling you against him, “I like you. You’ve got balls that would make Nook jealous. I don’t do this for just anyone, but…” He coyly looked away as he inspected the nails of his free hand. “I’ll get you that refund. We’ll have to do a bit of sailing, though! My island’s not far from here.” When you shot him a confused look, he cackled and added, “What, you thought I lived in the Treasure Trawler? Even if I did, I wouldn’t stash my life’s savings here!”

       You stumbled from the crisp slap on the back Redd gave you as he left your side, motioning for you to follow with both his hand and his tail. “C’mon, cousin, we’re going up to the bridge. I don’t trust no one here alone with all these genu-wine masterpieces!”

       Your eyes rolled as your cheeks flushed. The come-hither flourish of Redd’s tail as he walked away – well, it was hard to ignore that the man was wearing an apron, and absolutely nothing else. You were intimately familiar with the sight of Tom Nook’s cranny back when the tycoon had the same wardrobe as the fox in front of you, so seeing a bushy tail holding up a tied string and exposing a broad backside brought back memories.

       Oddly enough, Redd and Nook tied their aprons with the same odd knot…

       …probably coincidence.

       You were given ample time to ogle Redd’s rear as you followed him up out of the hold, no matter how hard you tried to keep your eyes averted. It was right there at eye level, for god’s sake! Your personal verdict that you’d never say out loud: Nook’s rump was round and plump, but the fox fanny in front of you was bouncy and perky.

       Redd stopped dead in his tracks and gave his butt a bounce in your face, making you freeze and yelp. You looked up as he cackled, hand on the hatch to the bridge. “Eyes up here, pal,” he said over his shoulder with a broad, toothy grin. “If I knew you were like that, I’d charge you admission; you know, pay-per-view!”

       The fraud fox laughed at his own joke as he opened the door and ushered you inside, your face burning as you walked past. He was still laughing, almost wheezing, as he shut the door, walked past you in turn, and took his place at the helm, swishing his hips with excessive swagger all the way.

       “Alright, ya perv, setting sail for my place,” he said, his laughter descending into giggles and a smug smile. “Keep your hands on deck, off my donk, and off the dick you may or may not have!”

       Redd’s cackles were back in full force and ringing in your ears as they burned with embarrassment. It was hardly your fault that so many people in these islands didn’t wear pants and had shapely asses to show off! Raymond, Marshall, Fauna, Audie – Isabelle wore a long skirt, but you wouldn’t be surprised if she went commando! The only people that wore actual pants were Flick and C.J., and they were in a committed relationship!

       As you mulled over the local pants shortage that followed you wherever you went, Redd’s laughter had died down as the Treasure Trawler tugged along. It was hard to hear over the clamorous engine, but he was humming, bumping his bare bum back and forth and up and down to the melody. He didn’t seem to be paying you much mind, giving the impression this was just his personal ritual when on the open sea.

       And that tune… was that Steamboat Willie?

       What a fucking dork.

       You, in the meantime, stared out the window at the shifting waves and passing clouds. You didn’t want to give Redd the satisfaction of finding your eyes glued to his glutes again. 

       If you had, you might have noticed what his tail was doing.

       Namely slithering along the floor, growing inch by inch in length as it did so.

       Might have even scrambled out of the way before it wrapped itself around your middle and swept you off your feet with a metallic thud.

       Probably wouldn’t have escaped, though. You were miles from shore by then. It was just you and Redd, out at sea, alone, completely at his mercy.

       And as his tail retracted, dragging you toward him, he just kept humming along, bouncing his butt to the beat. That waggling rump loomed ahead of you, forced as you were onto your back.

       You struggled. You tried to get your arms free, but they were firmly pinned to your sides by fluffy fox tail. The fur was soft and light against you like a luxury scarf, but underneath was unnatural strength every bit as flexible yet unyielding as a boa constrictor.

       If Redd heard you, he didn’t respond. But there was no way the ancient engine of the Treasure Trawler was [i]that[/i] loud. He just kept humming, his booty bumping this way and that with musical abandon.

       Then his tail pulled up and back, like a fishing pole with a bite on the other end, lifting your legs up with it.

       Then Redd’s dancing donk came to a stop, holding somewhat still with excited little wiggles.

       Then his tail pushed your feet up against his bouncy, perky asscheeks, slipping between them with the feeling of tickly fox fuzz.

       Then you felt, and heard, the wet squelch of flesh around your feet, and a wave of warm and damp rise up around your ankles.

       You yelled – this couldn’t be happening. There was just no way. Just like there was no way Redd didn’t [i]notice![/i]

       Then the tip of Redd’s tail covered your mouth, squeezing tight like a gag.

       With your own protests gone from the soundscape, you could properly hear Redd: he was humming, still, but between gasps and pants. A shiver ran down his spine, his glutes quivering around your shins from the motion, before he lustily bent over the helm like a beast in heat.

       He was well aware of your peril. He was just pretending not to hear you, just like he was pretending to listen before.

       You tried to bite down on his tail. He didn’t seem to notice; all you accomplished was filling your mouth with fur, forcing you to retch and gag without a way to get it out.

       You tried to kick, to pull your feet out of Redd’s ravenous rectum. But his bowels were tight and his pucker was tighter, so all you accomplished was making him moan in delight.

       There was not much else you could do. So you tried both, again and again, but always to the same result.

       You were getting dragged deeper and deeper to your certain demise the entire time. Redd’s tail fed more and more of your legs into his ass, his perky, bouncy bumcheeks tickling every inch of you that slid between them.

       For the first time in a short forever, Redd spoke. “K-kinda quiet back there, cousin!” he panted through shallow, horny breaths. You couldn’t see his smug, shit-eating grin, the way you were getting dragged feet-first into his backside, but you could practically feel it. “Gonna give me the silent treatment the whole way?”

       There was another wet squelch when Redd’s pucker squeezed over your knees. A shiver ran through him, and the flesh around your feet rippled, squeezing around your ankles and opening up ahead of your toes to draw them in.

       That was, without a doubt, a swallow. Jolly Redd’s fat fox ass was [i]eating[/i] you. And you were forced to watch it happen.

       You bit down harder. You kicked in his colon more fervently. Didn’t seem to make much of a difference, besides making the fox all the friskier.

       “Www[i]ow[/i] this is embarrassing!” Redd laughed, swinging his rear side to side and you along with it as his asshole squeezed you in up to your waist, your knees forced to bend as your legs rounded the first bend of his colon. “Popping a boner in front of a customer! No wonder you’re dumbstruck, pal. Guess this is why ol’ Nook traded in his apron for some slacks and a sweater vest, huh?”

       The shameless scoundrel grunted, his predatory pucker slurping you inside him up to your navel, trapping your arms up to your elbows. His intestines were tight around your lower half, the silky folds of flesh snug as could be, but his backside showed no sign of slowing down on gobbling you up.

       “Oh look, there’s my place, right on the horizon! Sit [i]tight[/i], and I’ll see to that rrrr[i]efund[/i],” he said with a grunt, flexing his glutes to pull your chest into his pucker, “you so [i]desperately[/i] wanted!”

       A refund. You were almost up to your neck in Redd’s perky, bouncy butt, the small of his back a few inches from your nose and the back of his head seemingly miles away, about to vanish up the fox’s fat, orange ass –

       Over a [i]refund?[/i]

       As your shoulders sank into the depths of the conman’s big behind, your neck tickled by the fuzz of Redd’s bare butt, the depths of this man’s absolute [i]pettiness[/i] sank in.

       Redd flexed his glutes again. Those powerful muscles squeezed on either side of your neck, threatened to choke you, before the cushy flesh of his asshole slid up around your throat. Your head was well-wedged between Redd’s asscheeks, your vision filled with the fur of the root of his tail. You craned your neck, ‘lifted’ your chin to look ‘up’ just to see daylight. You could vaguely see the door to the bridge, framed between the mounds of fat on either side of your head and mostly obscured by buttfluff.

       Which is when Redd turned around.

       The movement of his legs grinded one asscheek against one cheek of your face, then the other, then the first again before he came to a stop. Now, all you could see was the helm, the steering wheel. You could feel faint pressure squeezing from both sides as Redd put his hands on his hips.

       “Why, where did you go, cousin?” Redd asked coyly to the ‘empty’ bridge of the Treasure Trawler. He swishes his hips side to side, ‘looking’ left and right, making you dizzy as you were shaken upside-down and wedged up his ass. “I can’t give you your refund if you’re not on board!”

       Though you couldn’t see, Redd grinned a devilish grin as he declared, “Oh well~!”

       And leaned backward, smushing his ass against the helm.

       The spokes of the wooden wheel mashed into your face, pressed against you. Redd’s asshole loosened, slid around your chin and forehead as you kept looking ‘up,’ before it crowned over your head and [i]squeezed.[/i] Your head was sent sinking deeper, deeper, deeper into Redd’s rectum, the light fading as his asshole eased closed, bit by bit, until those fleshy lips sealed entirely, leaving you in the dark.

       You were utterly, completely, totally inside Redd. Inside his intestines, crammed in his colon, behind his butt, nestled in his pelvis, taken under his tail. You could feel just as much as hear his heartbeat pounding through his entire body, pumping blood from his chest and into his dick, while the breaths of his lungs hissed like distant rain and the grumbles of his guts rumbled like thunder.

       And Redd, feeling you squirm within him, his belly hanging over his wide waist and throbbing cock with all your weight and mass in his bowels, couldn’t be happier. Fleecing fools out of their cash paid the bills, but fleecing folk into his insides was [i]divine.[/i]

       Wiping some drool from his lip, sporting a lusty blush on his face, flicking his tail like a whip with a crisp [i]crack[/i] to force it back to its ordinary length and fluffiness, he took a moment to rub over his engorged gut through the fabric of his apron. “Ohhhh… well…~” he repeated with a lusty sigh, turning back around to make sure his shop-ship didn’t run aground.

       As he kept a steady course toward his home island dead ahead, both hands at the helm when he’d rather have them both furiously attending his full mast, Redd squiiished his belly against it, smushing you in his insides up against his pelvis and prostate. “Fucking [i]unf,[/i] cousin… hope you don’t take this personal or nothin’, but a kitsune’s gotta eat, and bellyachin’ customers like you ain’t worth the headache.” He leaned forward with more of his weight, grinding his gut against the spokes of the steering wheel until you pressed up against his prostate’s sweet spot, making the secretly magical swindler gasp and shudder all around you. “But hot damn are they worth the bellyache…!”

       More than anything, more than eating you with his ass, more than toting you around in his tummy like a prize, Redd had to love plausible deniability. Didn’t hear nothin’, didn’t see nothin’… he did [i]feel[/i] you disappear up his donk, but if anyone asked, he’d just say he had a ‘feeling’ he’d never see you again.

       The fact that he [i]knew[/i] he wouldn’t?

       Well… how’d anyone prove that after the only witness was weight on his waist~?