I stumbled upon my newfound ability quite by accident. It happened one night as I was going through the photos I had taken earlier that day of Daisy, my crush. She looked radiant in a flowing white summer dress, and I couldn't help but admire the beauty captured in those pictures.

As I scrolled through them in the dim light, something caught my eye. There seemed to be a glittering mark on the screen where Daisy's bra was barely visible through the fabric. Thinking it was a smudge, I attempted to wipe it off, but it didn't budge. Perplexed, I tried to exit the photo app, and in my frustration, I accidentally pressed the screen with a bit more force than intended.

To my astonishment, my fingers didn't just touch the screen, they passed through it as though it were water. Startled, I quickly withdrew my hand, causing ripples to distort the image on my phone's display. It was surreal and unsettling.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I cautiously touched the screen again. Sure enough, my fingers passed through as if the barrier between reality and digital had dissolved. I could feel the cool glass of the screen encircling my fingers, but beyond that, there was nothing but space.

Then, almost impulsively, I touched Daisy's image on the screen. I wasn't prepared for what happened next. Instead of the expected sensation of touching a flat image, I felt warmth and texture. The unmistakable feeling of human flesh. It was Daisy's miniature waist I had touched, and I could feel the contours of her body beneath my fingertips.

In a moment of disbelief, I instinctively pulled my hand back. And with it came something extraordinary. A miniature version of Daisy, doll-like and limp, yet undeniably real in its warmth and softness. I stared in awe at what lay in my hand. A physical copy of Daisy somehow materialized from the digital realm through the screen of my phone.

Shocked and bewildered by the surreal experience, I couldn't resist the urge to examine the miniature Daisy more closely. She lay in my hand, eerily lifelike yet motionless. With trembling fingers, I traced the contours of her waist, behind, and up to her delicate breasts. It was like holding a perfect replica of Daisy, down to every detail.

As I carefully explored her, marvelling at the intricacies of her miniature form, a strange sensation washed over me. It felt almost invasive, this intimate exploration of someone who, moments ago, existed only as a digital image on my phone. But the more I inspected her, the more I became entranced by the realism of her features.

I was hypnotised, pressing down on her chest with my thumb. Despite her diminished size, their size was impressive and tender to the touch. I began pulling down her neckline to reveal her breasts. Then, without warning, Daisy's eyes fluttered open.

A gasp escaped my lips as her small frame stirred in my hand. Panic surged through me as I realized she was not just a doll; she was alive. Her eyes, filled with confusion and fear, locked onto mine. She let out a soft whimper, uncertain of her surroundings.

"No, this can't be happening," I muttered to myself, trying to convince myself it was a hallucination, a dream. But Daisy's presence felt too real, too tangible.

In my fear and confusion, a surge of aggression overtook me. This couldn't be real. It must be a trick of the mind, a bizarre dream I needed to wake up from. Gripped by irrational terror, I tightened my grip on Daisy, hoping to silence her, to make this unsettling hallucination stop.

"Daisy, you're not real," I muttered, my voice trembling with fear and disbelief. "You can't be real."

But Daisy's whimper turned into a frightened cry as I inadvertently squeezed too hard in my panic. She struggled against my grasp, her tiny hands clawing at mine, trying to break free.

"Please, let me go!" Daisy pleaded, her voice trembling with fear and confusion.

I recoiled, horrified by my actions. Yet I couldn't deny the excitement I felt as Daisy begged for mercy. The overwhelming sense of power made blood rush to my groin. I squeezed her, shaking her body. Her perky breast jiggling as she wimpered.

But I convinced myself this wasn't real; none of it was. If it was all just a figment of my imagination, my actions wouldn't have consequences. So despite her protests, I undressed Daisy.

As I aggressively removed the tiny dress, Daisy's trembling intensified, her small form seeming even more delicate and vulnerable. Her skin, smooth and flawless, bore a slight sheen of sweat. Each movement revealed the delicate yet striking curves of her body. Her slender waist accentuated by the gentle swell of her hips, and her chest, surprisingly busty for her tiny frame, with pink nipples barely standing out against her pale skin.

My touch was possessive, driven by a mix of desire and urgency that heightened the surrealism of the situation. The sensation of holding her, vulnerable and exposed in my palm, stirred conflicting emotions within me, yet I was determined to go through with my plan.

Pulling down my trousers, I revealed my stiff member. The sight of it made Daisy cry even more, her tears inexplicably heightening my arousal. Unable to wait any longer, I pressed her soft body against my shaft, trapping her between my palm and my rod as I began jacking off.

As I rubbed, a surge of power swept through me. Daisy's delicate form quivered against my cock, her small body feeling fragile yet alive with fear. Her smooth skin, cool against mine, I could feel the contours of her slender yet curvaceous frame pressing against my shaft as she squirmed, her waist fitting perfectly within my hand, her hips subtly rounding, and her surprisingly ample chest being dragged along.

"Please, let me go," she pleaded in a tiny, trembling voice that fueled my desires.

"Shh, it's okay," I murmured, though my grip remained firm. Daisy's movements became more frantic. Her warm breath, rapid and shallow, brushed against my skin, adding to the surreal intimacy of the moment.

Despite her fear, I couldn't help but marvel at the delicate resilience of her body. The sensation of holding her so tightly, feeling her vulnerability and strength intertwined, created a strange allure that both fascinated and unsettled me.

Tightening my grip, I felt the contours of her ribs press into my skin. I could feel her tiny chest struggle to draw breaths, desperate for air. Her pleas for mercy devolved into unintelligible groans.

I increased the intensity, going harder and faster. My mind blanked out, consumed by the need for stimulation, with Daisy reduced to nothing more than a tool to achieve that end. And soon enough I came harder than I ever had before.

Groaning and bucking my hips as my throbbing cock and iron grip nearly crushed Daisy. The strands of semen raining down probably being a minor inconvenience in comparison. As my grip finally loosened I nearly collapsed of exhaustion. Sleep threatened to carry me away just as Daisy's slight tremble in my hand brought me back.

Looking down I was met by her worn-out body. Drenched in my slick, viscous cum, the glistening substance clung to her tiny form, making her already pale skin appear almost translucent. Each tiny breath she took was a laboured effort, accompanied by a faint, rasping cough that echoed her suffering. The semen seemed to weigh her down, adding to her agony, and I could see her shaking as she attempted to sit herself up.

Her damp hair, matted and tangled, stuck to her face, framing her once bright eyes, now dim and clouded with pain and confusion. She looked up at me, her eyes holding a silent plea, a mixture of suffering and a heartbreaking question: why had I done this to her? The depth of her agony and fragility was magnified by her tiny, vulnerable form, and the oppressive fluids that encased her was a stark reminder of the cruelty I had inflicted.

Seeing her like this, so helpless and tormented, a wave of guilt and remorse washed over me. I had done this to her, reduced her to this pitiful state. My post-release clarity allowed me to see the errors of my way. Each breath she took, each tremor of pain, was my fault. I couldn't look at her anymore, even if this wasn't real.

I closed my eyes, trying to wish Daisy away, hoping to end this fantasy. But when I opened them again, she was still there, her tiny body writhing in pain. Panic set in as I realized I couldn't just make her disappear. I had to get rid of her somehow.

Grabbing a packet of wet wipes, I began to clean my fluids off her, the cool touch of the wipe causing her to shiver. Covered in goosebumps with hardened nipples, her fragile body felt even more delicate in my hands as I carelessly wiped away the hot mess. Despite her tiny protests, I continued, driven by a mix of guilt and a frantic need to undo what I had done.

When she was finally clean, I hesitated for a moment, looking at her tiny, fragile form. But the desperation to get her out of my sight overwhelmed me. My instincts kicked in and took over. With a deep breath, I brought her legs to my lips. Her tiny cries of protest got a new life as I placed them in my mouth, pushing them down my throat . I could feel her squirming on my tongue, the taste of her fear spreading across it.

Daisy's protests grew stronger. Her tiny voice growing louder with each moment. Fearing for her life as she was being swallowed alive. Her frantic movements re-awoke the disturbing satisfaction I felt earlier, a sickening pleasure fueled by her pain. My throat tightened around her, a visceral reminder of my own depravity. Yet, with each swallow, the thrill only intensified. A perverse desire to consume and possess her completely manifested.

As Daisy slid further into the cavern of my throat, the twisted excitement surged through me, a great arousal that mingled with guilt and horror. The sensation was electric, her desperate struggles and pleas becoming fuel for a dark pleasure I couldn't deny. Each inch she descended intensified the perverse thrill, a sickening fascination with the power I wielded over her fate.

I felt her fragile form squirming against the walls of my esophagus, a macabre dance of predator and prey within the confines of my own body. Emotionally, waves of guilt crashed over me, threatening to drown out the exhilaration. How could I find pleasure in such a grotesque act? Yet, the more she fought, the more alive I felt, a rush of adrenaline mingling with the rumble rising from my belly.

As she finally slipped beyond my reach, swallowed whole into the darkness of my stomach, I collapsed backward, gasping for air.

As Daisy writhed inside my stomach, the sensation was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was amazing feeling the twisting and churning as her tiny body fought against the acids that threatened to dissolve her. Feeling my cock rise I couldn't help but go another round.

Amidst the visceral turmoil, I heard her muffled pleading, a faint echo of desperation from within the confines of my own body. Each plea was a stark reminder of the life I was extinguishing, the consequences of my actions reverberating in the hollow chamber of my abdomen. Her voice, diminished and distorted by the flesh that enclosed her, carried a weight. And the more she sobbed and cried, the more sensual my experience became.
It didn't take long before I had another climax. The sensation was too intoxicating to resist. Given the chance, I would have continued indefinitely, but exhaustion overtook me as I collapsed into bed.
Despite my sexual fatigue, Daisy's desperation was as present as ever. I'd eventually drift into sleep. All while hearing her pain ridden sobs and feeling the desperation in her squirms.
When I woke up the next day, my stomach felt empty. I initially dismissed the entire experience as a bizarre dream. Even when Daisy didn't show up to school, I tried to rationalize it as a strange coincidence. However, denial became impossible when she was reported missing just hours later, supposedly disappearing in her sleep.

I rushed home, anxiety gripping me as I searched for any confirmation of my actions. There, on my floor, lay her shrunken dress. A horrifying testament to what had transpired. I grabbed my phone, hoping to pull her out of it again, alive. But she was missing from it. The image of her having turned into a landscape picture of the background she once covered.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. I had abused and swallowed my crush alive, leaving her to painfully digest while I slept peacefully. Nausea churned in my stomach, my core sickened by the monstrous act I had committed. Yet, disturbingly, I couldn't deny the perverse excitement that accompanied the horrifying truth.

Obviously, they never found Daisy. Nor did they find any of the other girls who have gone missing since. None of the disappearances were traced back to me. Despite the horrors of my actions, I craved to relive the experience. However, I chose my victims more carefully now. No one close to me, often people who had wronged me in some way, a bump with a shopping cart could be enough. Of course, I made exceptions if I desired someone enough.

I discovered certain conditions to my abilities. I had to genuinely crave the person for the process to work. The image of the victim had to be less than 24 hours old. The moment I pulled them from my phone, they would disappear from wherever they were, reappearing in the outfit they wore in the photo. Their size determined by their scale in the image.

I could keep them for days. Sometimes even extract multiple victims if I wished. But I always ensured that any evidence of their presence was erased before anyone could discover my actions. Still, I kept a shoebox with their tiny clothes, as a trophy case of sorts. Erasing all other evidence of their beings.

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