Down the Hatch

Mila stumbled back through the door, far unsteadier than she was sober. She knew the crowd at the Hatch and what they tended to do in the sole bathroom in the back of the building. At least she had managed not to back into anyone actively fucking. What she had backed into, however, as she tried to navigate a space as noisy and bustling as the stage and dance floor outside, was Reika.

The blonde and tan mule before her grinned, hips resting against the counter. Reika was imposing – a wall of a woman with broad shoulders and sturdy, muscular arms. The leather jacket she wore as her only top left a band of fur-covered skin exposed that ran from her collarbone to the waistband of her briefs, the inner curve of her heavy breasts bare, enough to show how large they would be if you pulled back her jacket more fully. Black, fishnet knee-highs and laced-up combat boots contrasted against cream-colored fur that shone golden when the bathroom lights brought out the highlights in their glare. Wire sunglasses glinted in the fluorescent lights; a wild mop of blonde hair seemed to glow like golden, fairy tale straw.

“I saw you looking,” she said, “both now, and during the show.” She licked her lips. Those closest in the crowd chuckled, ooh’d, and ah’d. 

“D-During?” Mila sputtered. She tried to look away from Reika’s eyes and the tongue sliding over her lips, and only managed to stare down instead at the still moving swell in her gut that had hours before been – or, she supposed, still was – one of the dancers on stage during her set. She planted her feet firmly under her at last, but struggled to find a place for her hands. Instead, she meekly held them in front of her, below her chest, fingers fidgeting at the air.

“It’s a small club, babe.” Reika chuckled, catching a lock of Mila’s long, wavy, silver hair in her fingers before brushing it lightly back. “I can see everyone’s faces.” 

Others in the bathroom began to catcall and whistle at Reika, a few shouting out confessions of what they wanted the mule to do to them. She grinned and took her attention from Mila a moment to blow a few kisses into the crowd.

With Reika’s attention momentarily off of her, she considered bolting. Her face felt like it was burning, more so than it had already been from the booze and the music and the raw energy of the club. She should have come with friends! That thought only made it worse, combining the burning, blushing sensations in her face with a nauseous anxiety at what her few friends would think if she asked them to join her at a club like the Hatch. They’d laugh at her; worse, they’d be disgusted. Too embarrassed to share the experience and too embarrassed to stay here alone much longer, her eyes darted around Reika to get her bearings on the door through both the hazy atmosphere and her hazy, alcohol-tinged vision.

“Hey, now.”

Mila froze. A firm hand with hardened tips – Reika’s hand, closing its fingers around her shoulder. There was no force to it, but the pressure of a warm palm and thick fingers closing hard, smooth tips through the white fur of her shoulders and down against her skin made it clear that Reika did not want her to leave the room. And, she realized, she didn’t want to either.

Reika leaned in; Mila’s breath caught in her throat. She’d watched the mule on stage a few times now, and on camera more times than she could count, but she was more real than real now, touching her. Her breath was warm against Mila’s neck and cheek; the ends of her hair tickled through her fur as it moved with the air Reika exhaled.

“There’s a lot to be gained from giving in to what you really want, y’know.”

Mila met the other woman’s eyes, then felt a touch at her chin. Reika’s grip was light, but firm, as it insisted to Mila which way to turn her body. 

Her heart pounded; her paws gripped the edge of the counter behind her. Reika’s hips straddled her thighs, holding her thin legs tight between the muscular grip of the mule’s own. One hand continued to hold Mila’s chin, while the other thrust into her jacket pocket and withdrew something, concealing it in its grip.

Reika’s fingers uncurled, then dangled a small packet with a round, pink pill in it. “This little thing,” Reika started, “will tune you in to the most intense sensory experience of your life. It can be a lot, but don’t worry, I’ll be here to guide the ride.”

She leaned in again, lips at the base of Mila’s ear. The hand at the rabbit’s jaw glided to the back of her head. Mila smelled smokey perfume at the mule’s collarbone, and felt a swell between her pillar-like legs as their bodies pressed together. “Of course,” she added, her voice lower, quieter this time, “It’ll also make you small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. Or, as I’d prefer – and I think you would, too –  in the pit of my stomach.”

Reika stood back up, locking her eyes on her prey. Mila reached for the pill but hesitated to take it. Reika started to step back, hand pulling away from Mila’s head. In one chain of fluid motions, she tore the wrapper open, turned Mila’s palm upwards, and dropped the pill in her hand.

“If you really want it, if you’re craving it, if you’ve never let yourself have this before, then give in,” she said, her words direct but sweet, filling Mila’s thoughts like cola sinking through smooth whiskey in a glass. “You look like a girl who doesn’t let herself enjoy much. Why not loosen up a bit more, have yourself some fun for a night. You’ll have a clear head in the morning, but for now,” she grinned before finishing, “go a little wild and have a taste of some of the fantasy I can tell you’re holding onto deep inside.”

Mila’s eyes dropped to the pill. She barely even drank; she was a lush tonight after two beers. She’d never tried any drug more than that in her life. She’d never tried a joint, even though it was as easy to get as cigarettes or a beer from the corner convenience store and deli. Certainly not something as exotic and wild as what the mule – the staggeringly attractive, very real, very physically in her space mule – offered her.

She was always a good girl. Praise heaped upon her by so many others.

Straight-laced. Went to school. Got perfect attendance and a magna cum laude diploma. Year after year of excellent performance reviews and regular praise for her diligence, flexibility, and earnestness.

Never asked for anything. Never had a relationship. Barely even had sex, unless you counted the few times she fiddled with a vibrator to results that were frustrating, at best.

Always busy.

Never really enjoying it, either.

Mila tossed the pill into her mouth and, before it hit her tongue, tipped her head back and swallowed.

Reika laughed, taking Mila’s head in her hands, bringing the bunny’s lips to hers. “Girls like you are so cute,” she said. Her lips pressed against Mila’s. Her tongue – thicker, stronger, more insistent than Mila’s – worked inside as they kissed, the two exploring one another in long, slow drags on each other.

The world wavered in and out of focus for Mila. Her eyes shifted from Reika’s own, to the crowd turning their attention to them, to her paws as they lifted off the floor. Her skin, her fur, felt electric. The warm haze of cheap beer gave way to the feeling of feeling everything intensely as her body switched from processing one substance to another. Everything felt fuzzy except for her captor, for the woman standing tall over and around her. 

The kiss between them separated, saliva glistening in strings whose surface tension stretched and shattered as they pulled apart enough to breathe. The thighs pinning her in place eased their pressure long enough for Reika to spin her around. The room and all its faces and voices whirled by in a blur, crashing to an abrupt stop as she faced the mirror, seeing herself and her wide, starry eyes. Heart building steam like an old fashioned locomotive, she gasped as Reika’s hands pulled her top off of her, then again as her bra was undone and her breasts hung free beneath her chest.

“Now, while I might be working with a time limit on stage,” Reika said as she bent over Mila from behind, “I’m going to take some time with you. The drugs take a bit to fully hit and start changing things. I really need to get your blood pumping if you want to truly enjoy the trip.”

Long front teeth pressed against Mila’s lower lip, holding back a moan as Reika cupped her bare breasts and squeezed firm. One hand left her skin, pushing two fingers inside Mila’s mouth to open it up.

“No holding back, either,” Reika laughed. She withdrew her fingers, painting a gloss of her prey’s saliva over Mila’s lips. “I want to feel and hear you, pretty little treat.”

When the mule’s hands returned to her breasts, Mila closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, the rush of air from her throat building into a long, drawn out moan as she let herself feel Reika’s touch. Keratin stubs met the nubs at the center of pink, flush nipples and dug into them with pressure that climbed, little by little, in time with the bass from the DJ driving the dance floor. Mila’s breath trembled up her throat before cresting and breaking from her voice into the air in a sharp, rounded cry that sank into a foam of steadily rambling moans and back into the relative silence of catching her next breath.

Behind her, the mule’s hips encircled her own, Mila’s legs as much riding on top of Reika’s own as they tried to support her weight on their own. Reika’s knees pushed her legs apart, her erection stretching the elastic fabric covering it as it pressed between the bunny’s panty-covered ass. Red blush showed through the white fur on Mila’s cheeks, drawing excited calls from the growing crowd in the bathroom. Her arms had settled, extended but relaxed, into a pile that she rested her head on. The tuft of gray fur above her mons grew sticky as a wet patch spread through her underwear. Her head turned slow from side to side, feeling her own arms against her face to ground herself, to try to hold onto something that wasn’t the superstar mule bending her over a counter in something that felt like it had come out of her own sultry dreams so that she could be more than a babbling mess so soon.

One of Reika’s arms wrapped under Mila’s chest; the other gave a firm tug at her ponytail of silver hair. The edge of sharp incisors pressed and slid subtle but unmistakable down the length of her ears, drawing a spill of halting phrases from Mila. “My food,” Reika spoke low, “should be tender and relaxed. Don’t try to hold on so tightly.” A snort of hot breath rushed through Mila’s hair and across the back of her neck. “Does this feel good?”

The question echoed through Mila’s mind as though over a wide canyon. She found words, discarded them, found others, discarded those with a more frustrated huff, then finally gasped out, “Yes, please. Please. It’s so…”

“Let the words come to you,” Reika whispered. “Don’t try to find them.”

Breathing deep until the air hit the bottom of her lungs, Mila closed her eyes and let her body loosen on the following exhale. Like yoga, she thought to herself. Like yoga after work. Except, she thought, this massive, gorgeous, fearsome woman has me in her grip. I’m her’s to enjoy, not just me acting for myself, not just doing something for the sake of…

The sake of what?


The mule’s voice rumbled in her ear, obliterating her thoughts.

“I like this,” Mila said, the counter so cool beneath her ruby red cheeks. “I want this,” she added, her voice coming from deep in her gut.

“Show me just how much you do,” Reika replied. 

Mila shivered and felt her words break apart again. Reika’s body lifted it off of her, giving her space, giving her room, and making her whine in frustration at the same time. Lifting herself onto one forearm, the other reached her hand down until her thumb hooked into the waistband of her skirt and her panties beneath. She pushed down both, rolling her hips from side to side as she balanced on the arm in front of her, her gray and white-tipped tail shaking as it popped out of its sleeve in her skirt.

The strength dropped out of her as soon as Reika touched her again. She dragged the arm that had loosened her clothes back in front of her as the mule’s fingers took hold of each and pulled them down to her knees. Her hand slid down between Mila’s cheeks, outermost fingers spreading the plush padding around her lips, while the interior pair moved like melting ice across sensitive folds.

Mila wanted to bite into her own arm to mute herself, but – as her unexpected lover made clear – what did it matter? People were watching and being so seen, so nakedly seen like this, was as intoxicating as the beer, as the pill from Reika, as the rich, almost incense-like perfume that she exuded, as anything else. She let each moan roll over her tongue as it came forth. The fingers easing inside her, moving and stretching her as they eased deeper within, made her push back against them. Her giddy expression as she held her head as high as she could manage drew cheers and whistles from the crowd and she drank it in as deeply as she absorbed herself in just much Reika’s touch was so easily opening her up.

When the mule finally entered her, she drew a long, sharp, climbing inhale, eyes opening wider as the vivid, hot sensation of Reika’s heartbeat pulsing inside her like the music outside, like the drumming of her own against her ribs and breasts and the countertop and her eardrums. Reika had one hand to her hips and the other forearm supporting her waist from beneath; Mila couldn’t hold herself up even if she wanted to. She simply let herself rock with Reika’s thrusts, her weight more on the woman’s arms than anything else. Each push coaxed her body to relax, to melt into how this felt, to the beat and the movement and the feeling of feeling more alive than she’d felt before.

She took as much of Reika as she could, tightened her hold on the cock within her, drunk with fantasies made real and her thoughts blazing like stars against the ocean of attention centered on her. Her voice broke like rebounding sparks each time she came; at last, when she felt Reika pull her off the counter and against her chair, she knew this would be the last. Reika moaned out, a deep, halting, resonating sound that flooded Mila’s ears – the only sensation she could process as all others washed away with her thoughts in the mule’s orgasm.

The noise of the crowd and the music and the club washed away to static. She looked over her shoulder as Reika smiled; long, black lashes framed the most deeply blue eyes, glittering like water, like the city harbor at daybreak or twilight. Mila let out a long, slow exhale as her lover withdrew from inside her, her own black and brown eyes trying their best to hold Reika’s gaze.

“It’s going to start now,” Reika said. It was; Mila felt suddenly small in the mule’s arms. She looked down, blushing again against still ruddy cheeks as realized the woman’s flaccid cock was now nearly as long as her leg. She couldn’t find words but hoped instead that leaning back against Reika’s body would communicate enough that this felt alright, this felt okay, that this was what she wanted.

Reika turned Mila over in her arms, one supporting her from behind her back while the other supported her hips and butt from below. Even then, she was still steadily getting smaller; Reika had to continually adjust her grip to keep her weight balanced. “You’re going to be fine; nothing bad is going to happen to you now. You’ll wake up in the morning in a nice hotel room. But for now, I’m going to swallow you little by little; squeeze you tight inside my stomach, and make you realize that for now, until you’re well asleep, you are my food. My treat after the show.”

Mila panted for breath, face buried against the tuft of fur between Reika’s breasts. Her arms – so thin and fragile now, white lines against the cream and tan of Reika’s own – reached up and draped around Reika’s shoulders. “I want this desperately,” Mila said, her voice trembling, ecstatic, small. “I need this. You’re… you’re so much, a whirlwind, and…” She gasped, still searching for a steady breath, “I want to feel it overtake me. Just for a night.”

Reika’s fingers grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, lifted her into the air. “Please,” she begged, slowly kicking her legs – not in terror, but simply because her body wanted to move. She had no real idea of how small she really was; maybe twice that of Reika’s hands. It didn’t matter. Her fur glistened with sweat; come and lubricant laid it flat against the inside of her thighs. She looked down and there was nothing real except the up-tilted head of a golden-furred mule opening her maw wide, sharp incisors and hard, grinding molars separating from one another to reveal the pink, glistening gums and tongue and throat waiting for her. Hot breath blasted against her, making her thoughts and vision swim again.

Reika lowered Mila’s legs into her throat; Mila squirmed as the pads of her feet met the tongue behind and below them. Once her hips were within the mule’s jaws, they closed around her. Teeth pressed with care at her back and belly while her feet met the back of Reika’s throat. It closed around them and pulled, Mila’s fur sliding easily over wet lips and a wetter tongue. A mouth that was kissing her just moments before now greedily dragging her inside. 

The girl she’d eaten earlier in the show in between song sets was already deeper in her gut by now; she’d be alone in Reika’s stomach, but very aware of what was happening beneath her. Mila shuddered again, shaken out of a brief moment of coherent thought by another swallow that dragged her down into the mouth gripping her until she was down to her breasts, her shoulders, head and arms. Another swallow would pull all but her hands inside; another would bring her senses to the back of Reika’s throat and draw her completely inside. One, or maybe two, after that and she would be nothing more than a bulge sliding down a mule’s throat on its way to a stomach eager to claim a rabbit to consume.

Swallow. Her eyes were level with the back of Reika’s tongue, her fingers playing over the sensation of taste buds beneath their pads. Her heart trembled somewhere in the top of the mule’s throat; her hips squirmed some way down her neck. Somewhere beyond the deafening sound of pulse and hiss of air moving through a busy throat there was a crowd screaming in excitement at watching their star devour a cute girl up-close, but she didn’t care. Maybe she thought the mass of attention felt good, but the all-encompassing feeling of being enveloped like this felt so deeply better.

One more, and she’d be gone. She smiled, relaxed, anxious for nothing, enjoying everything with ease.

Swallow. Pull.

All of her fell into Reika’s throat, and from then on until morning, for now, nothing else mattered but feeling.

One thought on “Down the Hatch

  1. Won’t lie, I often feel like Mila does. Always have to take care of stuff, always have to go above and beyond for family and work. Wouldn’t mind taking Mila’s place to be honest.

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