Weekend at Sofia's: Supper time

Dylan sat in the oversized kitchen chair and huffed a bit. It wasn’t that the immense kitchen felt two sizes too big (and reminded him that he was two sizes too small). Nor was it the fact that his feet couldn’t quite reach the floor even when he stretched his toes out to try and reach it. It was moreso the causal way Sofia had just grabbed the scruff of his neck while he was trying to hoist himself up into the seat. He would have been fuming over the cheeky denial of his agency, had she not defused him with a ruffle of his hair. That and her unbroken stride right on by, like picking him up with a single hand motion was nothing out of the ordinary.

Still he didn’t mind the view from his new perch. Not having to crane his neck upward for a bit was nice. Seeing Sofia’s curvy rump on display as she bent down to search the vegetable drawer of her monolithic fridge was even better.

“Mm.. I wasn’t expecting company of the vegetarian persuasion tonight,” she mused, sifting through the salad mixes and intermingled cheeses before pulling out a bag of baby carrots and glancing over her shoulder.

“But I’m sure we can work something out for you, bun,”

She retrieved a slab of steak from a plate on the top shelf as well as various other fixings and ignited her stove top as she rummaged through the cupboards. The distant reaches of which seemed like the upper racks of a store room from his perch. Shelves big enough to stuff him into and a variety of bunny-scale household fixings. Not that Dylan was particularly bothered by the wait. Those canine assets were on full display as she stretched up; her plush rump and her muscular frame flexing to the tune of a slowly wagging tail. Doggish muzzle hunting down bagged prey and canned quarry.

In no time at all the doggy assembled a bounty of legumes and rice on the counter; whose transition towards sauce pans and skillet brought the kitchen alive with the popping sound of sizzling. A lively crackle chatter of stovetop flames, and the incense of spice blooming into the air.

That hearty aroma of vegetable base alight with garlic and red pepper and a smirky sprinkling of cumin and a pinch of paprika that made Dylan salivate. Not just because Sofia was putting on a succulent show for him as he cooked, but because he hadn’t had a chance to really eat anything all day. His coffee house nibbling felt ages ago.

It felt as far away as the ceiling was to him as he gulped nervously. Hoping that whirling ceiling fan above him was going to remain just that distant until they sorted this all out. He was lost in that thought when the soft tink-plink of ceramic on the table broke his revere.

“Sorry about barking at you earlier Dylie. You know how it is when you’re hungry,” Sofia apologized; sliding over an enormous platter of spiced rice with a side of beans and steamed carrots his way. The sauna of scents and heat wafting over his face with the promise of some carb-dense fixins’ was apology enough. He could stand to be boof-woofed occasionally at if it meant something this nice!

Of course, that was nothing compared to the exquisite selection the canine had picked out for herself. The protein prickle-tickle of her steak announced itself to his senses as she set out her steak. The cut almost overflowed her plate; her own helping of greens was housed separately on a bowl beside her. The massive slab was almost as thick as his arms and its width was broader than he was. She placed a set of comically oversized silverware before him, even as she retrieved a steak knife and experimentally tested her cut for doneness.

Dylan could smell that medium-rareness before he even saw the peek of pink. After-all, despite lapine appearance, the feline elements of Dylans heritage acutely picked up on those dense, meaty undertones. And as Sofia plopped down across from him, licking her long chops, it reminded him he was in the company of a very large very predatory puppy.

He tried not to be distracted as she sliced into her meal. He didn’t want to stare as she drew in the scent, nor did he want to take note of how her pupils dilated or the extra salivation perking around her chops. He hide his apprehension with a mouthful of carrot as she opened wide and savored bite after bite. All his predatory agency was shushed at this scale. He felt riveted in place; with a lot more empathy for that rib-eye than he normally expressed toward menu items. .

He hoped he wouldn’t get caught gawking, but just as Sofia savored the pepper and the paprika, she caught a whiff of something more intoxicating still. The latent pheromone dread of her dining partner. Were this a dated, she’d probably have chided him for being spooked by her chops, but she knew better. This was Dylan. And it wasn’t just fear that made him stare.

Leering across the length of her long snout, she lifted up her snout just enough so that she could watch his expression as she flexed her throat and that steak bite vanished into her gullet with a Glrrrk.

“Jealous?’ she mused in time with his involuntary shudder as he squeaked at being called out,

“W-what? No – just uh… admiring,” he blushed.

“Oh?” Sofia mused, piercing another bite as she kept her eyes locked on the lapine, “Admiring what I wonder? Is it..”

“My big long snout?” the hummed, tapping her chin,

“Or my big long tongue?” she stuck the tip of which through her pursed lips.

“Maybe my big long fangs?” she posited, opening wide to show them off. A spiderwebbing of canine drool spanning each ivory spire, hanging heavy in the air as she showed off her big long chops and her big hungry gullet too. The doggy held her jaws open and let him admire the mural of her purple throat and the flexible curl of her tongue.

If it were a fellow canine these would be atrocious table manners. And even a normal herbivore would lean back in their seat aware from such a display of lupine features. But with each progressive demonstration Dylan leaned a little bit more forward. At least until she CLACKED her jaws shut and made him jump; – that steak bite snatched up into her waiting jaws.

She chewed tenderly and lifted her head up fully – breaking their eye contact a moment as she swallowed with relish. That soft fluffy throat swelling out with a bulge of dog-chow, sweeping down before vanishing under her collar bone. The collie dabbed her lips tenderly with a napkin and mused, “But.. if its my big long throat, you might want to keep admiring from afar.”

Dylan shuddered in his seat as Sofia showed off her chops. Not just because of his innate empathy for the steak bite (and certainly a perilously paradoxical dose of envy as well); but because he felt the pressure of size loss squeezing in around him again. The way that plate infront of him seemed to expand. The slight upticking of the table as he become level with his chest and then his shoulders. He felt the world squeeze in around him, like the way the collies gullet squeezed in on that chunk of meat. Here a moment. Gone the next.

He huffed and bit his lip a bit, before Sofia paused her predatory staring contest to sit up right. “But, if you want to feel my throat working, you can tomorrow during brekkie,” she teased, before chiding him; “If you keep staring any more your dinner is going to get cold.”

He blushed a bit and nodded affirmatively. Trying not to be so rude. Or at least open mouthedly gawk as the doggy finished her supper.

She helped at least with less intense conversation. Discussions dragging his thoughts toward recent sit coms, a few idle internet videos. Mutual musings of acquaintances and even weather. It helped him regain a bit of his composure.

But not his height.

The acute awareness that if he kept this up he could very easily be the same size as that cute of steak. Scrambling on her plate. Sputtering atop the river of her tongue. Slipping against the spires of her fangs. Tumbling down that dangerous, long, inescapable throat.

He sat there worriedly as she took up the dishes. The mixture of spent adrenaline and a suddenly full belly was still tugging at his senses. A sleepy sense of exhaustion that made him slump back in his chair. Despite the existential terror brooding in the back of his thoughts, he permitted himself to slump back a bit and get lost in the rhythmic pattern of that swooping fan above. The soft splash of water from the sink and the tink-clink of plates set on the drying rack. The shoomph-poomph of a fridge opening and closing to store left overs. Normal house hold things. Not the concern of dwindling bunnies.

And this time he didn’t complain at all when the oversized pup scooped him up off the oversized chair. He could definitely go for an oversized bed about now.