You were walking home after a long day, tired and exhausted, when you decided to take a shortcut through an old, mostly abandoned block of warehouses that was now home only to rats, criminals, and the occasional rat-themed criminal. You started to regret taking this route when you were nearly knocked off your feet, the ground shaking as the sound of explosives fills your ears from somewhere nearby. Turning the corner, curious as to what was happening, you can only gawk at the sight before you as a gigantic-sized Ms. Marvel- Jersey Cities' own superhero- did battle with what can only be described as a squad of Iron Man suits. Whether they had humans piloting them was uncertain, but the mechanical humanoids buzzed around the young superhero in a way that reminded you of a swarm of insects, attacking the titanic teenager- who must've been around 300 feet tall, when you compared her height with the nearby buildings- with their built in weapons. Yellow lasers, small explosives, some of them used what looked like freeze rays, and a few even attacked with kicks or punches... however the super-heroine didn't seem bothered by any of the attacks, casually swatting at the suits as they flew around her. The back of her hand collided with one, sending it spinning through the air in your direction, it's mechanical body hitting the ground hard. It skidded a few feet, the friction and the force with which it hit the ground all but tearing it apart. Thankfully, the mass of wires and circuitry sticking out where its head used to be seems to confirm that it was a robot.
 
"TREMBLE BEFORE THE MECHANICAL MIGHT OF THE GENT, PEASANTS!" You whip around in response to the tinny voice just in time for one of the robots to grab ahold of you, hooking its arms under your armpits and hoisting you into the air. Panicking, you try and struggle out of its grasp before you get too high, only to stop when you realize that a fall from the height you're at would kill you. Instead, you shout for help, trying to attract Ms. Marvel's attention before the drone can do whatever it's trying to do. Unfortunately, it seems that she can't hear you over the sound of the fighting, and you go unnoticed as the robot carries you towards her head.
 
A sudden movement of Ms. Marvel's head causes your path to be blocked by her silky brown hair. The drone tries to alter its trajectory, but is too late, and the robot quickly becomes tangled in her hair, dropping you in the process. You let out a scream of horror as you start to plummet downwards, flailing your limbs in a blind panic. Before you can fall more than ten feet though your vision is filled by Ms. Marvel's open palm. You land on her hand hard; enough to knock the wind out of you and send a jolt of pain through your body, but not enough to break anything. Her skin is soft and smooth, radiating warmth and the scent of vanilla hand soap, and the fingers close around you gently as Ms. Marvel brings you back towards her face. She gives you a small smile, wincing as the robot pulls at her hair trying to get free, joined by a few of its brethren. She brings her arm over her head, catching the group in her crushing grasp and squeezing them, making a horrible crunching noise as the robotic drones are reduced to scrap metal.
 
"Sorry about that," she says apologetically, looking at you with concern, "are you hurt?"
 
"N-no, I'm not," you reply, still shocked from the situation you're in, and more than a little nervous from being held in the grasp of the teenage superhero.
 
She gives you a smile, a sight which does wonders to calm you down. "That's good. Now, let's find a safe place to set you down..." She turns around, checking around the nearby buildings for cover, making sure to keep you safe while swatting away the occasional robot. Her smile gradually turns to a frown as she sees that there isn't any where she can put you down where a robot wouldn't immediately be able to attack you. It doesn't help that the swarm- perhaps sensing that their attacks are doing nothing to pierce or harm her light brown flesh- are starting to go after the hand that holds you with increasing frequency. She gives a frustrated sigh as more robots arrive to join the fight. Then her expression changes, her eyes going wide as if in realization. Her tongue slips out between her lips, wetting them with saliva as her eyes dart towards you.
 
Bringing you up to her face once more, she begins to speak to you again, giving you an apologetic look. "Sorry, but this is the only safe place around..." You watch in confusion as she brings you closer to her face, only realizing what is about to happen when her lips widen in front of you. Despite apparently doing this for your safety, you can't help but squirm and whimper as Ms. Marvel reveals her open mouth to you. Her mouth is like a massive, wet, fleshy cavern, her tongue alone easily big enough to accommodate your entire body when spread out with room to spare. Saliva hangs from the roof of her mouth, connecting to the bottom in thick strands, which snap and break as the opening to her body grows wider. Her teeth, which are bigger than your head, are an immaculate pearly white, without any signs of cavities or other dental problems. Her undulating pink tongue has a thin pool of foamy saliva coating it, reflecting the afternoon sun. When you breathe in, the air inside her mouth is heavy, and lightly tinged with some sort of spicy smell. Her uvula hangs in the back behind her hard, curved palate, swaying lightly like a pendulum. And beneath it lies her gullet; a dark, moist, twitching muscular tube that leads to Ms. Marvel's stomach, a space which you could easily fit into given the difference in size.
 
You let out a brief scream as she drops you into her mouth, landing on her tongue with a splat. Her saliva quickly covers the front of your body as it makes contact with the bumpy pink muscle, the bubbly liquid clinging heavily to your body. The air inside of her mouth is even hotter than it was outside, and the atmosphere is somewhat muggy, like a sauna, and thick with the scent of whatever she ate last. Despite the robots still flying around outside, your instincts are screaming at you to escape. You clamber forwards on your hands and knees, back towards the outside world, your heart beating out of your chest as Ms. Marvel's mouth closes, sealing you inside, your last view of the outside world framed by her lips. Was it just your imagination, or was the outline of her mouth curved into a smile just before her lips closed? You crawl frantically around the dark, wet, fleshy space, trying to find a way to escape, but there isn't one. Suddenly her tongue rears up underneath you, and you give a scream of terror as you fall blindly backwards, landing in the middle of the muscle. Her tongue presses you against her hard palate gently, almost seeming to ooze around you as the soft muscle covers your body like a heavy blanket. You're absolutely soaked in her saliva now, the oily liquid covering every inch of your body and making your clothes cling to you.
 
She holds you there like that for a few minutes, and you gradually start to calm down. Her warm tongue embracing your body feels good in a way, like being pressed against a warm wall of gelatin. Your heartbeat gradually starts to slow down back to normal, your breathing normalizes, and tension seems to fade away from you as you get used to being held in Ms. Marvel's mouth. She gradually lets up on the pressure, easing you downward a fraction at a time until you're laying on her tongue, staring up at the roof of her mouth. You lay like that for a few minutes, her warm saliva starting to pool around your body, forming a sort of tub in the curve of her tongue.
 
Outside of her body, Ms. Marvel is fighting back against the robots, going all out while doing her best to keep her mouth steady. She crushes scores of robots in her hands, letting the mechanical bodies fall to the street below; smashes them out of the air with idle slaps, even breaks a few in half at the waist by casually flicking them with her fingers. It's no challenge for the young hero. As her mind wanders she gets an idea, her face briefly sporting a devious smirk before she replaces it with a more heroic one.
 
More and more saliva has started to fill Ms. Marvel's mouth, although you're already as soaked with it as you could possibly be. Suddenly the tongue moves violently underneath you, pressing you against Ms. Marvel's cheek. The tongue slithers over your body, undulating as you're carefully sandwiched between the soft flesh of her cheek, and the firmer, bumpy tongue; you're kept well away from Ms. Marvel's teeth, but occasionally you're briefly brushed against the hard enamel as well. You wonder what she's doing as she passes you between her cheeks, occasionally letting you flop down onto her tongue; the thought that she might be enjoying your taste occurs to you, but the idea is almost unthinkable. At least until you hear a loud gulp coming from the back of her mouth, as she swallows some of her excess saliva. The muscular contraction of her throat draws you backwards a few feet, and despite how oddly comfortable you were up until this point you can't help but let out a shriek as you're pulled towards her yawning gullet, panic taking hold once more as you scramble away from the dark drop into her digestive system. Ms. Marvel's tongue comes up once more, this time folding over you, trapping you in its embrace. You can feel the tip of her tongue slip up your shirt, the hot muscle touching your back causing you to shiver. A loud rumble comes up from Ms. Marvel's throat, joining the sound of her breathing and the wet sloshing of her mouth. Was that a grunt? A laugh? A moan?
 
Ms. Marvel claps her hands together, flattening the last robot like a tin can before letting it drop to the street below. She sloshes you around her mouth again, in thought; she certainly appreciated this experience, and your taste. She began to think about what it might be like to swallow you, to feel you in her stomach. The thought sends a shiver down her spine, and almost causes her to moan out loud, but she knows she can't do it. Mentally preparing herself for what your reaction might be, she opens her mouth, giving you the first look at the outside world since you slipped between her jaws, sticking her tongue out and holding her hand up so you can step onto it. You get up shakily, balancing yourself on her tongue, taking one last look around her maw, including her dark, ripping throat, before taking a step forward.
 
"I SEE YOU'VE MADE SHORT WORK OF MY MINIONS! I SUPPOSE THAT I, THE GENT, WILL HAVE TO DEAL WITH YOU MYSELF!"
 
The creator of the robots- a villain in power armor- arrives, announcing his presence by slamming into Ms. Marvel's back, hard. Despite his much smaller size, his suit's technology- and therefore its strength- is much more advanced than that of his robotic minions, and the teenaged hero is sent stumbling from the force of his blow. Inside her mouth, you also lose your balance; slipping onto your front as you start to slide backwards on her slick tongue, away from the outside world and towards the entrance to her digestive tract. You throw your limbs out in a panic, trying to grab onto the hero's slippery tongue, but you can't get a grip on the smooth, slick muscle. Your legs go over the precipice leading further into her dark gullet, then your waist, your torso, until you're barely hanging on, your entire body lodged in Ms. Marvel's throat with the exception of your head, shoulders, and arms. With your body blocking her windpipe, the hero's body acts reflexively to clear the obstruction, and...
 
Gulp. You scream in terror one last time as Ms. Marvel's throat muscles clamps tightly around your body, pulling you down into her gullet; a wet, dark, and tight yet yielding tube of flesh whose peristaltic waves are dragging you quickly towards the teenager's stomach, rippling and kneading against your body. Try as you might, you're powerless to stop your descent; even if her esophageal muscles weren't much more powerful than your entire body, you'd have to fight gravity, as well as the slippery, tight, mucous-lined flesh of her throat to climb back up. You can only pray that she'll let you out in time, before her body starts to break yours down. As you're squeezed further inside, you start to hear more of Ms. Marvel's inner workings; the soft and wet squishing sounds of her throat, of course, but also her massive lungs breathing in and out, her massive, rapidly beating heart, and even the faint sound of blood going through her veins. As your journey nears its end, another sound is added to the mix; the soft gurgles and groans of Ms. Marvel's tummy.
 
Ms. Marvel's eyes went wide as she felt your body slip down her throat, suppressing a shiver as you slipped past her collar bone. Even though your passage barely caused her throat to bulge, you were still quite a large object to swallow in one go, and she can clearly feel your body being squeezed down towards her belly by her throat muscles. It's horrible- to think, that a person is inside her body, about to be dropped into her stomach full of her digesting lunch and stomach acids, which will treat them like any other thing that enters it- yet at the same time the young hero can't help but feel excited and giddy at the idea. She hears something whizzing towards her, and moves her head just in time for a missile to fly by her head. 'Right,' she thinks to herself, her thoughts hazy from pleasure, 'I've got a super-villain to deal with.' She turns to face down the new arrival, thinking of a strategy for how to deal with him- putting your plight out of her mind, at least long enough for her to defeat this new villain.
 
Your feet hit a more solid muscle, which you recognize as the lower esophageal sphincter; the only thing separating you, and Ms. Marvel's massive stomach. Your feet press up against it as you're squeezed downwards, the closed muscle gradually opening as your body is forced through; your feet enter the 'open' air of Ms. Marvel's belly, dangling limply as your entire body is shoved out of her throat like toothpaste through a tube. Your legs are next, followed by your waist, then your torso and arms; all the while, the solid muscle is squeezing over your body tightly. Your head comes soon after, and you achieve a few seconds of free fall before landing in a warm lake of muck. The pool is deep, and has an oily consistency, made up of stomach juices, mucous, and the liquidy remains of whatever the teenaged superhero had for lunch; even so, it's not deep enough that you would be forced to swim. You quickly bring your head to the surface, taking a deep breath as you start to retch, coughing up some of the liquid that had gotten into your mouth and taking your first breath of foul stomach air in the process. The atmosphere inside of her stomach is hot and steamy, like you might find in a sauna, only the air is also heavily scented with Ms. Marvel' last meal. Something bumps into you, and you take a hold of it, using it as a flotation device to help you keep your head above the 'water' as the stomach starts to churn its contents, the walls flexing and heaving as it moves around the liquid. You recognize its texture as some sort of hotdog, which at its current size would've been thicker than you are at your shoulders. The thought that, in comparison to the giant hero, you're smaller than a proportionally scaled hotdog- a mouthful, at best- is almost a funny one, despite your current surroundings.
 
Ms. Marvel dodged another missile, all too aware of the effect her movements would have on you. She winced as she moved out of the way of another one; she had seen the effect they had on buildings, and even as big as she was, she didn't want to feel what they might do to her, even with the ability to heal from damage that her powers gave her. She had felt you plop into her tummy, and even felt your feet on the 'floor' of her stomach, but she could no longer feel your presence, floating as you were in the lake of her digesting meal. She worried that you might've fallen unconscious- or worse- a thought which worried her immensely. She tried to grab the Gent, but the power-armored villain nimbly darted away from her hands, firing a laser in response. Ms. Marvel jerked her hand back as the laser stung her, and her metabolism speed up slightly to help heal the wound...
 
As Ms. Marvel predicted, her movements sent you spinning through her tummy, adding to the already chaotic nature of the wrinkled sack as her stomach walls squeezed tighter due to the presence of fresh food inside of it- you. Thankfully you were small enough that the walls couldn't crush you, though it did mean you had to cling even tighter to the piece of hotdog, or else you'd be dragged underneath the waves of her roiling stomach. Even so, the oily contents of Ms. Marvel's belly splashed over your head, keeping a fresh coat of chyme on your body at all times. It itched- not painfully, yet- but enough that you were constantly reminded of the possibility that you might be digested; reduced to nothing more than a meal for the young superhero. You stayed like this for a while, getting tossed around Ms. Marvel's stomach and treading the digesting muck while occasionally hitting one of her wrinkled stomach walls, anxiously waiting for something to happen when you heard it- a loud, drawn out gurgle from down below. It could mean only one thing; that the next stage of digestion was about to occur.
 
Ms. Marvel winced as her belly gave a long, drawn out groan, avoiding yet another missile. Her tummy was growling embarrassingly loud, thanks to her greatly increased height, a fact which did not go unnoticed by her opponent. "HAHA!" the Gent laughed, his synthesized voice almost as loud as it blared from his suit's speakers, "SOUNDS LIKE YOU COULD USE A PICK-ME-UP! I'D SUGGEST ONE OF THE FINER EATERIES AROUND, BUT I DOUBT YOU COULD AFFORD IT- NOT THAT I'D LET YOU TAINT THE ESTABLISHMENT WITH YOUR PRESENCE, PEASANT! HOW ABOUT YOU EAT FLAME INSTEAD?"
 
Inside of her stomach, you were fighting to stay above the muck as it drained downward, trying to pull you down with it, clinging on to the bite of hotdog for dear life. The bubbling, swirling lake rapidly disappeared, creating a strong current leading further into the hero's body. Eventually you lose your hold of the hotdog, slipping under the surface of the grimy lake. This is it, you think to yourself; this is how I die; getting digested by a superhero. Not the worst way to go, when you consider all the megalomaniacs with superpowers and alien invasions, but still. Once you get sucked into her intestines, it wouldn't be long before you drown, surrounded by the liquid remains of her lunch; then your corpse would be squeezed through her guts, traveling through her small intestines until...
 
Your feet brush against the sphincter leading to her intestines, and you grit your teeth. Reaching down, you grab one of the wrinkled walls of her stomach, putting it in a death grip as you try with all your might to avoid that horrible fate. Your muscles ache, and your lungs are burning from lack of oxygen, but you absolutely refuse to die like this! It feels like minutes before the liquid drains to the point where you can breath- although it was only a few seconds- and it feels like even longer when the sphincter closes up, trapping your toes inside of it. You cough and hack up the vile fluids, greedily inhaling the stomach air despite the smell. Somehow, you've managed to avoid entering Ms. Marvel's intestines. You crawl forward, your feet sliding free of the pyloric sphincter with only a little effort. You get up, standing in the small puddle that remains- now the pool of stomach contents doesn't even come up to your knees, let alone your chest- and begin to walk forwards, far away from the entrance to your host's intestines. Along the way you stumble across the hotdog, and you begin to push it forwards as well, only stopping once you reach one of the walls of Ms. Marvel's stomach. You slump down, cradling the bite of food like someone might hold a pillow during a horror movie. The sack sways lightly, and the churning starts to become gentler. You almost start to fall asleep when the stomach contracts, the air becoming thinner as Ms. Marvel's belly contracts just a little bit. Whatever it was, you quickly shrugged it off; all you had to do now was wait, and see what happened.
 
As Ms. Marvel started to reflexively cover her mouth, a jet of flame shot out of the Gent's suit towards her. A burp that would've sounded dainty and feminine at her normal size escaped her lips, taking on a much louder tone thanks to her large stature; the gas ignited in front of her, and she jerked her head back in surprise, blushing a little. The sudden ignition backfired on the Gent's suit, and his suit's internal fuel tanks exploded, sending his suit in a free fall. Ms. Marvel caught the suited villain, who looked sheepishly up at her as she glared down at him.
 
He spoke in a timid, meek voice; "Just so we're clear, I didn't really mean all that stuff I said earlier about you being a peasant. It was all an act, I swear- AIIIEEEE!" He shrieked as Ms. Marvel began to tear away his suit, leaving the super-villain in a skintight bodysuit that he wore underneath. "I want a do over," he muttered. Ms. Marvel merely gave him an unimpressed look.
 
A few minutes later and the police arrived, picking up the Gent and congratulating Ms. Marvel on a job well done before heading off back to the police station; all the while her feelings of victory and accomplishment that she normally got after defeating a super-villain were overshadowed by the person inside of her stomach, possibly dead or dying. She breathed a sigh of relief as they finally left, poking her tummy warily. "H-hey," she asked, "are you still alive in there?"
 
The movement sent you tumbling back into the pool of juices and digesting food, only this time there was less to dilute the acids. You stepped frantically backwards, your skin stinging painfully as you retreated back to the wall. The hotdog slid down, sizzling a little as it entered the pool of juices. You began to bang on the walls of Ms. Marvel's stomach, frantically slapping and hitting her belly to remind her of your presence.
 
She blushed as she felt your movements inside her, biting her lip; your movements made her feel really good... another gurgle rang out, and she shook the thought off. They made her feel bad, not good; she had to get you out of there. "Don't worry," she said, softly, rubbing her tummy- trying to comfort you- "I'll get you out of there before you digest." Just as she started to stick her fingers down her throat, she saw an explosion happen in the top level of a building- around her height- a good distance away. She grimaced, biting her lip once more, this time in thought, before she began to run towards it, silently praying that you'd be able to hold on just a little bit longer...
 
Meanwhile, her running movements had sent you sprawling back into the pool, the slurry up to your waist as her running motions prevented you from standing up. Scooting over to the hotdog so you could use it as a chair, you prepared to wait out whatever was happening outside. Ms. Marvel's stomach happily began to churn around you, trying to digest its contents...
 
---
 
Kamala rushed into her home, all too aware of the time that had passed since she swallowed you. She had shrunken down to her regular size after helping evacuate the building, which took around twenty minutes; the fight with that villain took around twenty, and finding a good place to hide and change into her civilian clothes had taken around five. Combined with the time it took to get home, and she estimated that you had spent around an hour inside of her. An hour... she shuddered when she thought about what could've happened to you during that time. It didn't help that she couldn't feel you moving inside of her anymore. Had you suffocated? Drowned? Succumbed to her stomach acids? Were you even in her stomach anymore? Her thoughts were racing as she entered the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. The fan in the ceiling rattled loudly as she hunched over the sink, sticking a few fingers down her throat. She gagged, her stomach heaving, but she didn't vomit. She did it again, turning the handles on the sink with her other hand almost as an afterthought, so you wouldn't get hurt when you hit the porcelain. Kamala's eyes watered as she began to wretch, strands of saliva dripping from her mouth. Her insides were clenching up, her head was pounding, and she was starting to sweat. 'C'mon,' she thought, 'why can't I-'
 
---
 
You stood, uncomfortably, in the pool of mucous and stomach acid. The hotdog- which had served you so faithfully in this trying place you found yourself in- had finally lost it's consistency, leaving you to fend for yourself. Your skin itched terribly, especially around your feet and ankles, which had taken the brunt of the damage caused by the hero's digestive enzymes. Loud groans and gurgles came from underneath you, as Ms. Marvel's lunch travelled through her intestines. The stomach rippled around you, knocking you off balance, and you collided with one of the walls. You're tired; as you rest against the wall, you almost feel like you should just go to sleep. It's sweltering in the depths of the teenager's belly; your body is aching both from the acids and from being thrown around in this chaotic environment, the air has become increasingly thin, as you've already consumed most of the oxygen that was once in her belly, and there's still no sign of her throwing you up. You start to close your eyes; all in all, this wasn't too terrible a way to go.
 
Suddenly, the walls close in around you, tightly; the stomach juices wash over you, getting in your nose but also carrying you with them as they rush upwards, back up Ms. Marvel's throat. The wrinkled sack transitions almost seamlessly to her tight gullet; you're only in her esophagus for a second before you come flying out of her mouth. You land in a pool of warm water, and despite your tiredness you quickly swim back to the top, breaking the surface of the water. The light is blinding after spending such a long time- what felt like days- inside of the hero's stomach, and you shut them tightly. Above you, you can hear the sound of Ms. Marvel's labored breathing; eventually, yours eyes adjust, and you take your first look at the heroine who swallowed you, and the world outside her stomach.
 
To your surprise, you recognize her- not that it's hard, considering the incident with her clones a few years back- but you're still surprised when you realize that you know who Ms. Marvel is. Kamala Khan. You didn't have many classes with her- she was one of the smarter people at your school, which combined with being a year ahead of her meant that you didn't have too many classes with her. It made sense, come to think of it; the weird stuff that happened around school always seemed to involve her in some way, and whenever Ms. Marvel showed up Kamala Khan was nowhere to be found. Honestly, you're surprised you didn't see it earlier, considering the only thing that kept her identity hidden was a small mask. Tears are streaking down her face, probably from the exertion of throwing you up, and she's panting heavily. It made you feel bad for her, despite what you've just been through.
 
It looked like you were in a sink; when she went back to her regular size, it must've shrunk you, as well. Why, you did not know, but you suppose it beat being crushed by her stomach. Superpowers are weird, and when you consider that there are heroes who can lift mountains, run faster than sound, or shoot beams of energy, this seems rather tame. The water you're floating in is warm, and has a thin sheen of stomach acids and other juices floating on top of it, along with you. It looked like you were in a bathroom, probably hers, unless she brought you somewhere else for some reason. You look down at yourself; your clothes are in tatters, badly damaged by her stomach acids, floating loosely around your body. You're more concerned about your body, however; you're beet red, and although you don't feel like you're bleeding there isn't an inch of skin on your body that isn't some shade of red or pink from being burned by her stomach acids. You don't seem to have any permanent damage however, and you thank God (and any other gods; you like to hedge your bets, considering that you know Thor, Loki, Ares, and Hercules exist for sure) for that.
 
Eventually, Ms. Marvel recovers, opening her eyes and spotting you. Tears well up immediately afterwards, as she quickly fishes you out of the water, sobbing incoherently. It's hard to understand her through her tears and her hitching breath, but you get the gist of what she's trying to say; that she's sorry, that she didn't mean to swallow you, and that she's sorry, again. You pat her finger, a few times, and she sniffles, looking at you with curiosity. "I know you didn't mean to swallow me," you say, understanding that she did the best she could with what was available to her at the time, "it was an accident. I don't blame you for it."
 
"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Kamala says, bringing you up to her cheek and pressing your body against it in a sort of hug; her skin is soft and smooth, and feels heavenly against your sore body. She quickly pulls you back, however, grimacing at a thin line of stomach mucous which connects the top of your head to her cheek, which she quickly wipes away. "Uh, do you want to clean off?" You nod, and she looks down at the sink. "Right, of course you do, you were just inside my stomach. Let me clean up the sink first..." She sets you down gently on the countertop, and she quickly gets to work on cleaning the sink, draining the water and wiping the basin off with paper towels, throwing the tissue in the trash when she's done before drawing some more water out for you. Kamala squirts some soap into the water, mixing it up until bubbles start to form on the surface, then offers you her hand. You clamber on top of it- once again admiring how smooth and soft it feels- and she lowers you towards the water, dipping her hand into the water just enough for you to be waist deep.
 
You step off her hand, and begin to paddle around the sink, occasionally diving down a little to get your hair wet. You run your hands over your body, getting what little remains of Kamala's stomach contents off of your body, making sure to be as thorough as you can. It's a bit difficult, since you're still wearing the tattered remains of your clothes, but Ms. Marvel is watching over you- fidgeting nervously, as if she expects you to start dying at any minute- and you don't think taking your clothes off would help with that. Her nervousness is why you're surprised when her hand scoops you back up, creating a platform like when she put you into the sink, as her other hand starts to lightly scrub your body. You look up at her quizzically, and she blushes.
 
"S-sorry, thought you might want some help," she says, looking away. Wanting to help her feel like she's helping you, you motion for her to continue, and she does, gently and dutifully scrubbing your back, running her fingertip over your back. It feels good, like getting a massage, and you lean into her finger a little bit as you start to relax. "O-oh no!" you hear her say, and your eyes immediately snap open as you look up to her. She shows you her other hand; caught between her finger nail is part of your shirt. You look down at yourself, and realize that your clothes have finally come undone, the fabric unraveling under Kamala's ministrations after being weakened by her stomach acids. Even your shoes hung loosely to your feet, you realized, the binding material mostly eaten away. The only item of clothing you had left were your boxers, and even they were looking a little ragged around the edges.
 
"I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean..." she looks at you, mortified, finishing lamely, "sorry." She continues to wash your body, this time targeting your chest, making sure to be gentler now that you don't have many clothes on. Eventually you give her a thumbs up, and she pulls you out, giving you a washcloth to dry off with. When you're dried off, she offers her hand once more, and you step on to it. Kamala opens the bathroom door, holding you behind it while checking around the hallway. When she's done, she quickly walks you to her room, locking the door behind her. Breathing a sigh of relief, she carries you over to her desk, letting you hop onto it before sitting at the head of her bed. The two of you sit in silence for a few moments; occasionally looking at each other before awkwardly looking away. You caught her gaze more than she caught yours, though, and you could see that she was staring at you with a strange look on her face that could only be described as ambiguous.
 
Finally, you break the silence, saying something that had been on your mind for a while now: "You know, that wasn't too bad, actually. It was even fun, in a way; something I wouldn't mind doing again. As long as I have time to rest, afterwards."
 
Ms. Marvel's cheeks flush immediately, her eyes wide as she gapes at you. She recovers quickly however, folding her arms firmly. "W-well, I hated it! I'm never doing anything like that again!"
 
A loud, hungry growl emanated from her stomach, and the expression on her face was so surprised and mortified as her belly betrayed her thoughts that you couldn't help but laugh. Scowling, she glared at her tummy, "Traitor..."
 
She sighs. "Okay, fine," she admits, folding her arms and hardening her expression, "I liked it, too- a little- but that doesn't change the fact that it was super dangerous! What if you had gotten seriously hurt or even died in there?"
 
You shrug. "I could just as easily have been killed by the robots, or falling debris, or that armored guy. More easily, in fact."
 
"Yeah, but..." she looks away for a moment, as if in thought. With a sigh, she returns her gaze to you. "There's another problem. You've seen my face, which puts my secret identity at risk."
 
"Actually," you tell her, "I already know who you are." She lifts an eyebrow, and you explain; "Kamala Khan, right? We went to the same high school; I graduated last year." She kneels, bringing her head down to examine you closer, until you're face to face with her eye. "We had the same English class?"
 
"Oh," she gasps, standing back up. "it's you, the, uh, yep- I recognize you," she says, sheepishly, "small world, huh?"
 
"Believe me, I know," you joke. Kamala laughs a little at that.
 
"Okay," she says, her voice serious once again, "so. You can't tell anyone that I'm Ms. Marvel. I don't want you to go mouthing off and get my family replaced by Skrulls or targeted by some super-villain."
 
"I can keep quiet," you reassure her.
 
"It's either that, or I have to pass you off to someone who can remove your memories of the last two hours or so. And I don't think you want that to happen." You nod, in agreement, and she looks a little more relieved. "One last problem- we need to figure out how to get you back to normal size." Her belly growls again, a little louder than before, and she blushes, placing a hand over her tummy. "Maybe we could find someone who-"
 
"Kamala, dinner's ready!" you hear a female voice call from down stairs, cutting her off.
 
"That's my mom," Kamala says, her cheeks still flushed, "are you going to be alright up here by yourself? Tomorrow, I'll try and turn you back to normal size." You nod, and she smiles gratefully at you, standing up; you crane your head up to look at her as she continues speaking, "I'll bring you something to eat, okay? Don't worry, I'll figure something out."
 
You lay down, as she leaves her room, ready to take a quick nap after today's long ordeal; your dreams quickly turn back to Kamala Khan. As you drift towards unconsciousness, you can't help but hope that you get to stay like this, for a while; and that when you return to your normal size, it's through the same medium that shrunk you down in the first place- Ms. Marvel's hungry, gorgeous stomach.