Light flashed across the room, followed by the rumble of glass rattling loose in window panes. Once it faded, your vision resolves itself in the looming, rounded mass of flesh arcing up high over your head. Far above, two heavy breasts lay against an equally massive chest, while thighs that seems as big as the subway tunnels that bore beneath the city streets lay to either side of you.

A face, soft and round, with large, plush, red lips and narrow, angry eyes, stares down at you. Light catches on the edges of saucer-like eyeglass lenses, and the lips you were admiring between your moments of disorientation and horror frown at you. It's a shame, you think: if you weren't so small, or she wasn't a giant, you would want to kiss them to see how they would feel, and how she might react to the slow contact, that lingering moment where you wait for her reaction.

"What a nasty little thing," she says. Her voice is small, but her words sound tense and sharp as they emerge from her throat and are spat out of her mouth. "Looks as though I've made your physical size match the sort of creep you are."

She leans down, plucking you off the bed. You wonder how you must have ended up here: you'd been standing by the window, which had banged shut despite your attempts to get in without disturbing the mouse-woman sleeping in her bed. You had no ill intentions towards her: pawning stolen goods was just good business for a dropout and an orphan. At the very least, the tablet she-- like most in Crossroads-- likely had in her apartment would fetch enough for a few days worth of food.

Of course, you think as you dangle from her arms, that was then. You weren't getting anywhere, not at this size.

"It's not decent to break into someone's home, much less their bedroom." She shakes you, your body swinging like a rattled chain for a moment. "Misbehavior like this should be punished."

She brings you closer; you've heard enough stories to know how this is going to end. People just disappear sometimes, in the 7th. If the victim's next of kin are lucky, the police might even find a body. More often than not it's simply chalked up to life in the lowest slum in Crossroads and left at that.

You force your eyes not to shut as she opens her mouth. Another bolt of lightning flashes light across the room, shows the contours and curves waiting for you behind her lips, her teeth. The walls of her throat flutter in anticipation; her tongue is slick and wet, thick and flat as it waits within her jaw.

You're stuffed inside, only your legs hanging out; her lips close up around your knees, and you wonder for a moment if she'll simply bite your legs off at the joint. No, you think, calm and disconnected from what's happening. Your death is a certainty now, after all; you might as well take in the awe of the moment. She's sneaky about this. The dark makes her feel powerful; the dark makes her feel unashamed. No one is watching, no one will notice her. She's free to dispose of you however she wants, provided that she leaves no trace.

Her tongue drags against you, soaking your shirt and smearing saliva over your face and hair. Your heartbeat echoes in your ears, while hot breath rolls over you from the depths of her lungs, wet and thick with the pungent smell of a body's core. The muscles rolls around you, side to side; she's tasting you, wondering what she's invited into her mouth. You shivered at the thought; in your last moments, you are little more than a curious morsel to your captor.

She finishes playing, and pushes you inside, your feet popping past her lip, sealing you irrevocably in darkness. The world tilts and shifts, the muscle beneath you pushes, and you slide downward into the tight, all-encompassing grip of her throat. Slick, undulating flesh stretches open, riding over you, the heat of her blood and the claustrophobic dark carrying you inside of her.

You land with squelched clap of wet upon wet, and cough, the thin air inside her stomach rancid from whatever it was she ate last that has since traveled onward deeper into her bowels. Everything sounds monstrous; the walls around you compress and relax, pushing the shallow pool of soupy liquid at your feet up and down. Everything groans and grumbles; all around, the steady thrum of her pulse pushing blood through her body rumbles in the distance; something deeper down growls at her stomach's sudden activity.

Everything shakes and tumbles; you're thrown off your feet and onto your back, landing with a splash in the pool around you. Your hands itch and burn; your eyesight blurs for a moment before refocusing on the few details it can see in the darkness. You wonder whether asphyxiation will come first, or simply passing out as the pain of being digested alive crosses the threshold of what your brain can tolerate.

The pulse in the distance slows, everything shifting around before finally going still. You'll be gone by the time she wakes up, you think to yourself; only a few indigestible fibers, and what survives of your clothing, ruined beyond recognition by their journey through her gut. You sigh and cough, and wait for the end, wondering what she'll dream about as you become one with her flesh.

Post a comment