The arctic fox slipped into the log house, shivering with pent up energy as she shook the wet snow from her clothing and body, dumping the wood she carried noisily to the floor. That damn ice patch had caught her again, and she'd toppled clumsily into a snow bank soaking herself down to her fur but not her skin due to her natural winter coat.
Grumbling about the cold and the soreness of her fanny, the white colored young vixen stripped down to her underwear, she lived alone and nobody was going to come visit her in a blizzard anyway, revealing her athletic figure and modest chest to the one soul who had come in earlier, unbeknown to this host.
The little snow mouse had also been searching for a way out of the cold. He'd come across he cabin and to his happiness had found a gap between two logs at the foundation just big enough for himself to get through and had cautiously skittered across the empty room once he was confident that the owner was out.
He'd climbed up onto the kitchen counter following a pleasant smell expecting food, finding instead a bowl of warm soup that had been left to simmer while the lady of the house had gone out for more firewood.
Not realizing what it was at first, he decided to use it as a hot tub, dipping his toes into the cooled-from-a-boil liquid in the bowl, finding it pleasant he had eased his legs and tail in shortly afterward before finally lowering himself in up to his chest.
When the fox had slammed the door open, he'd panicked and lost his grip on the rim of the bowl and had slid down the smooth curved wall to the bottom in a faint splash. Quickly he'd struggled to the surface just in time to catch a view of the vixen's breasts from the underside, held back snugly in her bra she approached her dinner.
That was where he'd made his second mistake and had dove under the surface, the opaque liquid effectively hiding him while the soup's aroma masked his smell. The next sensation he was aware of was the "hot tub" moving as the fox slid her paws around the bowl and lifted it up to her face.
He poked his head up to gasp for air even though he knew he'd be spotted----yet he wasn't, the giantess's eyes were closed as she inhaled deeply, savoring the airborne taste of her meal. "Smells perfect," she muttered aloud to herself, or so she thought.
The mouse watched in silent horror, still too afraid to move or squeak as his captor brought her lips to the edge of the bowl and opened her muzzle. He stared into the pink cavern of her mouth lined with perfectly kept fangs that abruptly dropped off into the black pit of her throat for several seconds until he became aware that the world---or at least the part of it he occupied, had tilted, and he was being carried forward towards the vixen's mouth by a river of yellow soup.
He wasn't much of a swimmer, all the impromptu ingredient could manage was to tread water as it carried him into the maw of the fox. Thankfully he wasn't caught on her razor sharp teeth, but this also meant there was nothing to stop him from reaching the back of her throat.
The vixen felt a lump poised at the edge of her gullet and closed her mouth, frowning as she sloshed it around with the accompanying soup. She didn't recall putting any meat chunks into this, and was tempted to reach in and pull it out with her fingers for a quick inspection.
But, she was SO hungry; tromping through that thick snow and carrying those heavy logs had built up a tremendous appetite, one that gnawed at her belly and possibly caused her to ignore the faint sensation of tiny feet kicking against her palate which she dismissed as random pieces breaking off.
The vixen swallowed, hard. Soup and meaty lump alike were squeezed down her neck, the warm liquid giving her a pleasant tingle, warming her chest and stomach as the meal descended into her body. Quickly she drank the rest of the soup and licked her lips contentedly.
The mouse, meanwhile, couldn't help but find irony in all of this: he'd snuck into this cabin to find warmth, and now he had it in overabundant supply. The body heat from the fox mixed in with the simmering liquid that had brought him down here made the female's tummy the perfect spa.
Well, almost perfect. True, he could feel the last bit of air running out as the bubble that his head occupied begin shrink with each breath. And the aqueous environment magnified the sounds of his surroundings several times: the beating of her heart was like a thunderstorm in the darkness as well as the churning gurgle of her stomach beginning to massage its heavy load.
Finally there was the matter of everything moving as the vixen went to lie down, curling up under a blanket as she sighed with content---also magnified to her unwitting prey---licked her lips a second time and rolled over, the action causing the contents of her belly to rearrange themselves such as the mouse and the air bubble ending up at opposite ends, and drifted off happily to sleep, dreaming of a warm spring just around the corner.
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