“You’re in the lead, by like… a lot.”
The weasel smirked, adjusting his tie to make sure his image was at all time immaculate. “Fantastic news! I can taste the champagne already.”
Their younger assistant (a dog of some sorts, he wasn't sure all the canines looked alike to him) nodded. “Not to jinx anything but congratulations, sir!”
He shot him his most presentable smile. “Thank you very much! Man, it’s too bad I cant throw a proper election party though.” He sighed.
“Because of the possum?”
The future mayor rubbed his eyes at the question. While the young dog was loyal, he was as dumb as a bag of potatoes. “Yes, because of the fucking possum.” He sighed.
His whole life he’d wanted, no, craved being in office. All that seemed to go down the drain when the mysterious shrinking pandemic hit. In an instant his dream of occupying the highest office of authority dwindled… along with 99% of his height.
Corralled along with all the rest of the reduced populace into one of the many sectors designated for them to live until they could be cures...but considering it had been months since they even received a call from the ‘big’ government the possibility of a cure now seemed like a pipe dream.
While most would view this as a dead end for a political career, the weasel saw nothing but opportunities. This tiny community needed a leader and he rose to fill that need.
That is he would have...if not for the possum.
Their sector used to have a normal sized overseer that was in charge of their safety and supplies, used to being the key word. Apparently the guy had left after weeks of the possum showing up every day to argue that the sector didn’t need an overseer, and one day the guy couldn’t take any more and just left.
From what he could tell the possum was a staunch believer that the world didn’t need any sort of hierarchies and that such concepts where inherently exploitative and wanted to prove a point...using their sector to do it, viewing the newly formed micro sector as the perfect starting off point for such a society on account of them not having any hierarchies to begin with.
Of course this was no way to live. If they were to survive and thrive as a community they needed a leader, a strong leader, preferably one that was himself.
When he’d suggested a mayoral election they’d called him a fool, but as the situation got worse and worse they came to see the need for any sort of leadership and an underground movement was formed to vote someone into office.
While it wasn't exactly the kind of power he wanted, it was a start. He looked around the impromptu campaign headquarters he’d set up in one of the abandoned micro sized buildings the state had provided, usually this building would have housed their makeshift police force but the possum had made short work of them, now it was filled with people working tirelessly to prepare for his eventual victory. “How are the numbers looking now?”
The dog sighed. “No change. It’ll be a landslide sir!” He said excitedly, his tail wagging behind him.
He smiled wide. “Excellent! And don’t worry, I wont forget all the work you did to help me. I’ll make sure you get a position in the new administration.”
Their ears perked up and tail wagged faster. “T-thank you sir!”
The weasel leaned over to see the screen. His numbers were far ahead of anyone else stupid enough to run against him. For the first few days he’d been running unopposed but then some bleeding heart morons decided to run against him citing that he only wanted power...they weren’t wrong but still it got on his nerves. “Look at em’. They never stood a chance.”
The dog beside him chuckled. “Absolutely! It’s kind of strange though if you don’t mind me saying sir.”
The weasel blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, yesterday the old socialist dude was in the lead but then you shot up past him.” The dog cocked his head. “How did you manage that?”
He let out a chuckle. “Well, I realized that the biggest issue with getting votes is that most people don’t know about the election since we cant exactly advertise it.”
“Because of the possum!” The dog added excitedly.
“Yes because of the possum.” The weasel said calmly. “But I found a way around that. I simply had some of the volunteer employees here pass out a fliers.”
The color drained from the dogs face. “B-but what if the possum sees the fliers?”
He let out another chuckle. “Oh please, I don’t think the guy even knows how to rea-”
The ground under them shook and everyone in the campaign center stopped in their tracks. The weasel felt his heart skip a beat. The ground shook again, and again. Everyone in the campaign headquarters stood frozen, swaying slightly with the tremors. As items started to fall out of shelves everyone regained their senses, some scrambling to hide under desks with others breaking down into panicked whimpers.
Again the ground shook and the weasel felt his heart race. But then...nothing. The shaking stopped entirely. After a few seconds of nothing, everyone visibly calmed down. The weasel stood up, sensing a great PR moment. “It’s all r-right!” He said as he raised his arms, barely managing to stifle the shiver in his voice. “He was probably just walking past. There is no way he knows about the ele-”
With a deafening, horrifying crashing sound, the roof suddenly lifted off the micro building, fluorescent lights fell from the ceiling and the people inside screamed in horror. Light flooded inside the building as the roof was peeled off like a lid and a long, gray furred face stared down at them with yellow eyes.
The entire campaign crew froze and stared up at the possum glaring down at them angrily.
“UH- just what the fuck is this?”
Nobody even stirred, some nervous glances where traded, a few whimpers where heard.
Those massive brown eyes trailed around the gathering until finally settling on the weasel, easily the best dressed among the bunch.
A grimace spread across the long, pink skinned snout. “This better not be what I think it is.”
Some brave campaign volunteers found the courage to attempt to flee, only making it about three steps before a possum hand wider than they were tall slammed down in front of the exit. A trademark of the hastily built micro buildings was the sheer amount of safety hazards such as the lack of fire exits. One of the weasels campaign promises was to establish a crew to build actual buildings more than one entrance and exit...a promise that now felt very ironic since the possum was blocking the only exit to the house.
The weasel blinks, quickly coming to his senses. “Uh-depends! What do you think this is?!”
The giant’s eyes narrow into an angry glare. “An elect-”
“An election?!” The weasel balks. “Goodness no! This is a-it’s a-” He glanced around nervously. “It’s a charity drive!”
An eyebrow twice the size of a person was raised. “A charity drive...for what?”
“Soup!” The weasel quickly blurted out.
“Soup?” The possum repeated.
“Yes. Soup...for the homeless.” He continued the lie.
The brown eyes searched around. “Then where’s all the soup?”
Everyone snapped their head in the direction of the weasel, all expecting an answer. He fixed his tie again. “Well uh...it’s finished. We gave it all to the homeless.”
For a moment the possum stared down in silence, the tension was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. The weasel was sweating bullets, it felt like his collars was tightening by the second.
“Okay...what about that?” The possum raised it’s hand to point behind the weasel.
He slowly turned his head, feeling his heart sink into his stomach when he saw the brightly colored banner with the words CONGRATULATIONS MAYOR! The weasel swallowed and looked back up at the possum, trying their best to keep their salesman smile on. “T-that’s my name, it’s my birthday!”
“...your name is mayor?”
The weasel nodded.
A small smirk appeared on the possums face and he looked down at the dog assistant. “Is he lying?”
Immediately the dog broke down into tears, falling to their knees in terror. “Yesyesyeys please don’t kill me I was just doing what he told me oh god please!”
Within a second of the filthy mutt giving up the goose, the weasel sprung forward, making a mad dash towards the nearest exit but before he could even take three steps the possums large fingers clamped onto his torso painfully and hoisted him kicking and screaming into the air.
He found himself held in front of a very large and very angry possums face. His mouth moved to try to say anything to talk his way out of this but nothing but a strong of incoherent babbling escaped his lips.
The possum looked down at the panicked, cowering election campaign staff. “All’ya’ll better stay in there. Anyone who tryin’a get out will get stomped.” He hissed before slamming the roof back down, shaking the entire street. Once the roof was back in place he turned his attention back to the little weasel in between his fingers. “Now, what to do with you?”
“W-wai-wait!” The weasel pleaded, desperately trying to cling onto the fingers while also pushing them away to keep them from crushing his torso like a blueberry. “I- I was just trying t-to give the people s-some direction!”
The possum scoffed. “Yeah right, you’re just another power hungry politician. Everybody knows power structures are unnecessary.” They glanced down at the shin height makeshift campaign office. A smirk spread across his face. “Hey, since ya’ll’re so obsessed with having authority, let me show you what it leads to.”
With a very very quick motion he dug his fingers under the roof again and flipped it off like a lid, sending it crashing into the adjacent street. He rose to his full height, looming over the terrified micros within the campaign headquarters.
“Alright, listen up everybody. It seems ya’ll’ve forgotten just how much having authority figures suck so I’m gonna give ya’ll a reminder.” The possum said loud and clear with their hands on their hips , leaning over the building like a parent scolding a child. “Pretend I’m some authoritarian asshole who totally controls everything ya’ll do!” He posed.
The cowering micros in the building looked around nervously, everyone too scared to speak against the horrific oppressor who systematically denied and destroyed any attempt to make an actual functioning society.
A malicious and cruel smile spread across the possums long snout as he looked at the tiny weasel in his fingers. Before The weasel could even make another plea for mercy, the possum moved him behind his back, pulling open the waistband of his shorts with a thumb.
The weasel felt his heart skip a beat, realizing what the possum intended for him “ W-wait! No, pleas-” Before he could get another word in edgewise, the hand dipped into the possums pants, pressing his tiny body against the giants gray furred cheeks.
Wide eyed and shocked, the people in the building below watched the weasel who was going to become their future leader, vanish between two house sized plush cheeks as the possum shoved him up his ass. A visible shiver when through the giants body as his hand lingered there, no doubt shoving the weasel into just the right spot.
With the mayor shoved deep into office the possum turned his attention to the little people in the building. “Now then. Ya’ll might wanna make some room.”
Before they could ask what he meant, the possum raised his foot into the building. They scrambled out of the way just as the possums foot slammed down in the center, followed shortly by the other foot.
Making little effort not to step on the micros, the possum positioned his feet inside the building, lowering his rear onto a taller, waist high building next to it, sitting down on it softly. He stared down at the trapped campaign team trying their best to stay as far away from the feet occupying 70% of the building space.
“Alright ya’ll, get to work. Since yall wanna lick boots so much, have a go at mine.” He chuckled. “Of course I prefer to go barefoot, but ya’ll get the idea…either way I want them cleaned. With tongues.”
The trapped people looked around at each other, clearly frightened and confused.
He narrowed his eyes at them. “I wasn't asking.”
Immediately the most skittish of the little micros rushed towards the dirty possum paws, first running fingers along the flesh, then finally forcing their tongues against the sweaty foot.
The possum felt a shiver go up his spine. He couldn’t help but smile a bit at the sight of all those would be boot-lickers laid so low by him. The sensation of tongues on his toes, tongues between the toes, licking along the sides. It was fantastic.
Another shiver ran up his spine as he felt a wiggle between his cheeks, forcing a small gasp from the possum. “Mmmh~ That goes for you too, Mr.Mayor.”
The wiggling intensified.
“If I don’t feel that tongue in five seconds I’m clenching my cheeks. One…haah!”
Immediately he felt the faint tickle of something wet against his sensitive rear, sending a sharp spike of pleasure through him.
With a wide smile on his face, the possum ground his rear into the building to get comfortable, content with spending the next hour teaching the little boot-lickers about the finer points of anarchism.

Edit Report
Pub: 07 Jul 2023 02:37 UTC
Views: 436