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Artist for this collab is pogojo, http://pogojo.deviantart.com/

This story contains some shrink, mild feet, violence, vore, and humiliation.
I don’t like the look of this guy already. He hasn’t prestiged, his dog tag is boring, and what the fuck kind of name is Rabbity? I swear to God if I got matched with a whiny, no good, piece of shi-

“Hey.”

He’s a talker? That’s not good. The talkers are never as good as they should be. The game is simple. It’s 2 on 2. There’s no need to communicate. Just do your damn job and don’t mess up me doing my job. God, I’m fucking hungry. I should’ve eaten before starting. Then I could’ve avoided this.

“Hello?”

Ugh. This guy sounds like a limp wristed weak-spined little fa-

“Are you there?”

“FUCK!” Where’s my headset? This is not looking good. We haven’t even started and I already want to punch his fuckin’ teeth out. Where is my God damned headset?

Standing up, I look around on the floor under the assumption I may have been sitting on it. No such luck. Ugh. Whatever. He can keep talking to nothing. I don’t care.

“I like your name.”

My name’s not important shitlord. And what the fuck kind of name is Rabbity? Fuck you.

“Three.”

Shit! The match is about to start! Giving up the search for my headset, I jump back in front of the TV, and sit my ass on the carpet. Maybe I can report this guy if he keeps trying to talk to me.

“Two.”

Oh. There’s my fucking headset. Piece of shit was plugged into the controller. After slipping it on I lean back against the couch and sigh. I don’t care if he heard it.

“Are you a girl?”

“Yeah, and if you do a good job then I’ll suck your dick so shut the fuck up and play.”

I probably could’ve been nicer to him. Hell, I definitely could have been nicer to him. Why bother, though? If he does well then he’s got nothing to worry about. If he does poorly, well, he’ll regret it. They always regret it.

“One.”

The match begins. I can feel the accumulated stress from the day disappear as I sink into a game. Even if that game is a violent, chaotic murderfest. When I’ve got a beautifully rendered 3D gun in front of me, I feel invincible. Or close to it.

“First Blood!”

No fucking way. He did not just fucking die already.

“How did you die so fast?!”

“S-Sorry. I’m not that used to this-“

“Shut the fuck up! Stop talking! Scrubby piece of…”

He listened. I think. That’s the thing about telling someone to stop talking. You won’t know whether they’re listening or just trying to think of something to say.

“M-Miss?”

Not again. Taking a deep breath, I bring the headset’s microphone and nearly shove in my mouth before sighing as loud as I can. He’s not listening. That’s another bad sign. I should’ve tried to votekick him out as soon as he showed up.

“How do you throw a…”

“Press the X button!”

I shouldn’t have told him that. I know his type. They’re a drain on humanity. A waste of resources. He’s going to take that knowledge, and fuck it up somehow. Mowing down opponents is supposed to be therapeutic, and he’s turning it into school time with Ms. Ann. Today’s lesson: How to throw a fuckass grenade!

“Killing Spree!”

That wasn’t me. I haven’t died yet, either. What’s going on? Bringing up the scoreboard, I notice that my partner, Rabbity has died three times already. We’re like a fucking minute into this game? How can someone be so fucking bad?

“Stop dying.”

I don’t know why I said it. I know he’s not gonna listen. He hasn’t listened to anything else I’ve said. Piece of shit’s probably jerkin’ it to my voice.

“And stop masturbating.”

That’ll teach him.

At that exact moment, my two opponents turn the corner into the room I’m running through. My gun rises, and I mash the trigger down, but a grenade explodes, and it’s too late. They got to me first. I should’ve been paying more attention, and maybe I’d have noticed that grenade before trying to engage them. Now I’ve died, because I had nobody to back me up. Ugh. Whatever. I’ll just force my way through this game, block that piece of shit, and hope I get matched with someone better next time.

“Team Kill!”

I’m done. Of course our opponents didn’t kill us. Fucking Rabbity threw a grenade in the wrong place and killed me.

Well now I’m going to kill him.

Ripping off my headset, I press pause and exit the game. It’s not a ragequit, no. Ragequitting is what pissy little 13 year olds do when they realize they have no hope of winning and can’t do anything about it. I’m a fully grown woman. I can do something about it.

Opening up the menu, I bring up the list of people I’ve recently played it. There, at the top, is Rabbity. I highlight, “Send PM”, and get to typing away. I use a modded console. Not for cheating, of course. I’m no bitch. I use it to get even, and Rabbity is going to be the latest in a long line of shitheads.

Clicking “Okay”, I send him the message, and wait. Any second now…

A small, naked figure pops into existence right in front of my crossed legs. The only light in the room is the dim blue glow of my TV, but I can tell that he looks exactly how I expected. Pale, and thin. He’s got a fuckin’ nerdy haircut too. I almost wish my console could bring them in at full size, as he seems like he’d be easy to handle even then.

“Hi.”

Fuckin’ idiot was looking in every direction but the one that mattered. The direction that I’m facing. He turns around after I call out to him and just looks at my feet. They always look at my feet first, like they’ve never seen a pair of feet. Or maybe they’ve never seen a pair of feet that look as nice as mine? Or maybe they’re all just foot freaks.

“Like what you see?”

He’s not so chatty anymore. This guy’s a total fuckin’ wimp. Some people have tried to fight me after I’ve done this. Those are the fun types. Not that taking advantage of a completely subservient little bitch isn’t fun too. It’s just a different kind of fun.

Uncrossing my legs, I slide a foot forward and step on him a little. At the last moment I see his pasty little hands go up. As if he could fight my foot off. That’s probably how he fuckin’ died so fast in the game. He needs to learn about over-reaching, and not taking on a situation he’s not equipped to handle. You can’t run into a room with two opponents, and your little fuckin’ white sticks for arms can’t do shit against my big, brown foot.

Oh! I felt him. Well, maybe he can do something. I certainly felt his little hands sink into my foot. Maybe he’s not so useless after all. Hell, if he can keep this up, then maybe…




“Keep doing that, you little bitch.”

Sure. Now he listens. What a stupid shit. I like the sound of that, though. Little bitch. He’s little, and he’s a bitch. It’s literally perfect.

Does he have no upper body strength whatsoever? I felt him at first, but I’d been pressing down on him at the time. Now I don’t feel a thing. He’s just… there. I can feel his body, and I can feel his little breath at the bottom of my toes. It feels kinda nice, if I’m bein’ honest, but where’s his little arms?

“That really all you’ve got?” I ask, slipping my foot away and placing it onto the carpeted floor next to him. His naked little body is exposed again, and he starts coughing. I don’t know why. I turn the foot I’d just had on him sideways, and press my fingers into the sole.

It’s a little dirty, yeah, but only barely. He’s wheezing now, like he hasn’t had fresh air for years. What’s the big deal? Though I gotta admit he looks kinda funny like that, and my finger is a little dusty now.

Wiping the dust from my finger off on his face, I watch him convulse again. It’s just some dust, shithead. What’s the big god damn deal? Aside from me, of course. Maybe his smaller body can’t process some foot dust?

Or maybe he’s just being a little bitch.

“You’re fuckin’ useless.”

He did not like that. He’s crawling away now, and I don’t know where he thinks he could go. The thick carpet can’t be easy for someone as weak as himself to pull through, and surely he knows that I could catch him in an instant if I wanted? Maybe he’s a retard on top of being weak, and pasty. That’d sure explain how he could play that fuckin’ bad.

“Oh no you don’t.” I laugh, and pick him up. I do it carefully, since he’s supposed to be my new source of fun for the next few minutes, but God damn do I just want to squeeze my fist. I’ve done that before, and while it feels nice, it’s always a disappointment after. Sure, their bodies are crunchy, and feel nice, and gooey in my hand. But then what? Then they’re dead, and my hand took all the fun. No, my foot deserves him.

A loud, rumbling sound echoes in the quiet room, and at the same time I come up with another idea. In the dim light of the room I can barely make out his little face turn into a mask of despair. Maybe he’s not retarded, if he knows what that sound means. He starts to wriggle around, and hit at my fingers. Why?

“The fuck are you doing?” I ask. I honestly want to know. He hasn’t said a thing since arriving, and it’s really starting to get on my nerves. I don’t like people that are overly quiet, even if I know that they couldn’t be planning anything. “You heard that, didn’t you? I’m hungry, and you look pretty fuckin’ tasty to me.”

Ooh, now he’s really struggling. Strange how he knew it was coming, but he fights extra hard once I’ve said it. I don’t regret saying it though. They’re always more fun when they know what’s coming. Their little arms and legs fight as they slide down the throat. It tickles, but it feels really nice. Like, really nice.

“Stop moving or I’ll break your God damned legs.” I say, giving him an evil glare. For once, I’m bluffing. Not that I couldn’t, or haven’t broken their legs before, but I want to try something new with this one. Something that’ll require working legs, even if they’re a bit wobbly.

Opening my palm up, I let him roll into the center of it, and watch him.

“Are you… crying?”

Holy shit. This is new.

“Stop fucking crying you little bitch.” I taunt, making sure to put my lips directly in front of him. His hair is just long enough to be gently blown by my breath, and I can feel myself grow a little hot at the sight of it. I wasn’t even trying to fuck with him, and I totally fucked with him! It doesn’t make him stop crying though. He just can’t accept it, and that is so fucking hot.

“Hey.” I say, trying to get his attention. He looks up at me with glistening eyes. Tear stains have formed on his cheeks, and I can tell he’s not breathing normally.

My stomach starts growling again. Fuck the foreplay, I need him now.

“Walk into my mouth, and go down my throat.” I order, and open my mouth as wide as I can. Stretching my tongue out just a bit, I let it rest in the palm of my hand, and wait for him to do as told. To go down my mouth on his own and give up his life simply because I told him to.



He doesn’t want to move. My breath washes over him, though I can’t see him too well now. Maybe I should just toss him in.

“Get in or I’ll break your fucking arms.”

He doesn’t need arms to walk, and I want to try this out. What’s the point of bringing him over here if I’m just going to do something I’ve done a million times before?

I feel him take a step. He’s still on my palm, but he’s done it. His panicked wails become louder now, as if he’s trying to earn some sort of mercy from me. If he wanted mercy he shouldn’t have fucking killed me, and ruined my game.

“That’s it. Keep going little bitch.”

God I love calling him that. Even better, my sudden speech surprised him, and he backed up. I feel him take another step immediately after, so he’s accepted his ultimate fate, even if he doesn’t want it. He’s too scared of me to resist.

He’s done it. I can feel him on my tongue now. The bottoms of his feet don’t exactly taste appetizing, but the simple thought is more delicious than a thousand people. His feet sink into my tongue, and I marvel at how incredibly light he is.

I have to resist urges though. My stomach seems to detect incoming food, and grumbles again. I give it a light rub with my free hand, and curl my lips up into a smile as best I can. I can sense his presence now, as he takes another step, and his feet leave my palm.

He’s fully in my mouth now, and he holds the top of my teeth in an attempt to not fall out. He’s so intent on doing this that he cares about failing! It sure didn’t take a lot to break him.

Breathing deeply, I move my hand away, and leave him be. There’s no going back now. It’s either continue his trek onwards into my throat, or fall out, and risk me carrying out my threats. I’d definitely break his fuckin’ arms if he tried to escape. I’d feel good about it too.

He continues walking forward, and I can feel him go deeper and deeper into my mouth. He’s no longer able to stand, so he drops to his hands and knees. I can feel the vibrations of his bawling down my throat, and taste the minuscule saltiness of his tears falling onto my tongue. I love obedience.

This is it. I can feel him crawling forward more, and can sense that he’s near the back of my throat. I try to hold off for a moment longer, but with a sudden lurch forward, my gag reflex is activated, and my throat pulsates, ready to accept its meal. Its tiny, human, meal. He falls in on his own, and I close my eyes, forcing the lump of meat down my throat.

He’s definitely a fighter. I can feel him down my throat every step of the way, and give my neck a little massage, to ease him down. I can’t stop myself from shuddering, and I miss the sensation once he falls out of my throat and into my stomach.

That’s it. The little bitch is gone. He won’t ever bother anyone else in multiplayer ever again. He may have not tasted that great, but he felt fantastic going down. For a moment I consider vomiting him up, just to experience swallowing him again.

But why do that when there’s an entire world of victims out there, who deserve the same fate? I could definitely go for another, I think to myself as I lift my shirt and rub my belly. I know he’s in there, stewing away in the darkness.

God that’s so fucking hot.
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