Lox has a nightmare and seeks comfort in her big pal, Irving.
Content: willing tiny female prey, unaware (sleeping) giant male pred, panic (from nightmare), comfort, soft vore, safe vore
Lox bolted awake, floundering in her blankets. She gasped for breath, chest heaving as her heart pounded. She could feel her pulse throbbing in her hands, neck, and ears. As her breath slowly came under control, she rubbed at her eyes, wiping away tears.
Wriggling back under her blankets, she laid her head back on her pillow. The fabric was cold, likely damp from sweat. She tugged at her blankets, then kicked them up as she fought to get comfortable. Every position felt off. Her mattress had transformed into mounds of dirt; her blankets now surely spun of pure wool. Where a comfortable position could be found, her line of sight was terribly obscured, leaving her exposed to unknown shadow creatures that could pounce at any moment. Of course, that was all terribly silly; she knew that. The feeling was not so easily shaken by mere reason.
She sat up again, this time swinging her legs over the side of her bed. A thick rug met her feet as she stood up. With silent steps she approached the edge of the ledge she used for a bedroom.
With hardly a glance she hopped over the edge, hugging her knees and tucking her head as she fell through the air. A plush surface caught her with hardly a sound. She uncurled and floundered in the thick blanket. With difficulty she crawled along; the exertion made her gasp for deep breaths.
At long last she reached the edge of the duvet. Not far below her vantage upon his shoulder, she could see her destination: Irving's face. Though it was tempting to just leap onto his cheek, she opted to clamber down backwards, clinging to the blanket and his nightshirt. With light steps she crept across his slack face.
His breath was a continual stream of moist air ebbing and flowing from his nose. It sent a shiver down her spine as she lay across the side of his nose. Her body weight forced the nostril closed. She strained down and grabbed the edge of the other side, pulling it up. His muscles flexed beneath her as he strained for a moment to breathe before his lips parted. Air sucked past his teeth, then gushed back out in a warm wave.
A grin split her face as she slowly released the nostril. His gaping mouth was still the easiest path for breathing, so air continued to wash in and out. She grabbed the squishy lip and slid her arm around it. Her hand was immediately coated in slimy saliva, but the warmth made it overall pleasant.
From there she was just one awkward slither away. It was hard to control the slipping and falling at this point, but he hardly stirred at all. Still, the efforts were exhausting. She lay clinging to the inside edge of his top teeth, one leg down to brace against his cheek. It was terribly temping to slide through the crevice and settle cradled in his cheek. Both here and there were risky positions to be in: one bite with any force would almost certainly break something important. That thought spurred her onward. She could rest soon anyway.
Gripping the slick ridges of his teeth, she hauled herself towards the back of his mouth. Though she couldn't see it in the dark, she knew his uvula would be hanging askew to her left. Touching that would almost certainly wake him, and it would definitely ruin any chance of being swallowed any time soon.
With one final, painstaking squirm onward she wriggled past it and into the back of his throat. She gasped, whether from joy or surprise she couldn't say, as his tongue flexed and tossed her forward. Any sound was stifled as his throat muscles constricted around her. She panted for breath between the ripples of the throat around her as it dragged her down.
She slid victoriously into his stomach. Dragging in deep breaths, she nestled into the bottom. The soft folds of stomach lining enveloped her in warmth. Gurgles rumbled all around, offering soothing ambiance in the darkness. Every sensation was a comfort. His stomach could've been made of the finest silk and every wrinkled ridge bulged as if under the weight of a hot-water bottle.
Most of this was lost on Lox, at least consciously. No sooner than she had settled was she asleep. Nothing could get her here, not even the nightmares.
