Continued from Part 1
Rosalie
Sky Canada Flight 9638
7:30 AM CET
The airplane groaned and creaked as it rolled down the runway, its engines straining against the forces of gravity. Passengers gripped their armrests, their hearts pounding in their chests, as the world outside began to blur from the speed with which it passed by.
And then, with a sudden lurch, the airplane lifted off the ground, soaring upwards into the endless morning sky. The passengers felt themselves being pulled back into their seats as the airplane gained altitude, the roar of the engines drowning out all other sounds.
For just a moment, they were weightless, suspended in mid-air like in the dreams of a madman. The ground fell away beneath them, a patchwork of greens and browns and grays, until it was nothing more than a distant memory. Above was a blue sky, below was a carpet of cotton clouds.
And yet, even as they hurtled through the air at impossible speeds, Rosalie felt a sense of calm. They were aloft, free from the constraints of the earth, and for a moment, they felt invincible.
Sighing, the young woman turned away from the window. A colleague in the front of the plane began to make the announcement that they would soon be serving in-flight drinks. Rosalie began to load the cart with some of the things she would need, hot coffee, hot water, a few extra snacks, some stickers she usually kept with her to give to children. Then pushing the cart up the slight incline of the isle, she began to work.
***
Rosalie
Somewhere over Great Britain
Sky Canada Flight 9638
7:58 AM GMT
After over an hour of serving refreshments, Rosalie found a rare moment of tranquility amidst her demanding responsibilities. Seeking solace from the bustling cabin, she retreated to her seat in the aft section of the aircraft.
Taking a seat in a comfortable crew chair, Rosalie released a contented sigh, relishing the much-needed break. No one seemed to be needing her at the moment. Breathing a contented sigh, she reached into her bag and retrieved the small Vortex box—her favorite in-flight indulgence. She picked up the box she had bought the previous evening.
Thank goodness that nice woman at the grocery store let me have these, she thought to herself as she looked down into the box.
Vortex had recently begun making completely clear boxes. Apparently, these new boxes created less pollutants to make and were also completely recyclable. It also meant that she could see into the box and observe each one of the twelve little people within much more clearly, all of them separated from one another since they were stored in their own little cells. They looked up at her, all of them looked terrified, but their reactions were as diverse as the people within. Some began shouting at her, shaking their fists. Others were crying and calling out to her, though Rosalie couldn’t hear them at all while they were inside the wrapper. A few simply curled up and cried in the corner of their little compartments.
The crinkling sound of the package echoed gently in the otherwise peaceful space. As Rosalie carefully tore open the box, she felt a rush of saliva, the anticipation of the delicious snacks whetting her appetite. Rosalie's hands delicately plucked one of the humans. This first one was a young man who was somewhere between dark and light skinned. He was shouting in a language that was not French, German, or English. At a guess, he might have been Indian, but there was no real way to tell. Rosalie smiled, more in anticipation of the snack than any desire to appear friendly, but the expression terrified the tiny man. He began crying out again, this time louder and in a higher pitch.
Oops, Rosalie thought to herself. I didn’t intend to frighten you more than you already are. Though thinking about it, she had shown her teeth when she’d smiled. They were as big as he was, poor thing.
It was a bit too late to avoid taunting the man, so Rosalie stuck out her tongue and pressed it against the now crying little fellow. He adhered to the wet, sticky surface. His last cry of terror was barely audible to the nearest passenger over the engine noise as Rosalie drew him in and sealed him behind soft lips.
As it happened, the nearest passenger was a teenage boy. He turned in his seat just in time to see Rosalie swallow. He looked from Rosalie to her Vortex box, and back to Rosalie, who was just dangling another shrinkie before her face.
The boy’s stare caught Rosalie’s eye. “Oh,” she said as she popped the second shrinkie into her mouth, swallowed, then leaned forward.
“Tu as besoin de quelque chose, mon ami?” She asked. The boy wrinkled his brow in confusion. He clearly didn’t understand. Rosalie was about to try again in German when she suddenly recalled he’d asked for his drink in English.
“Do you need anything, my friend?”
“N-no,” said the teen. He smiled. “I am okay.”
Rosalie beamed at him. The boy’s face began to heat up.
“You are not hungry?” She asked, her face a question as she pointed to the shrinkies. “I saw you eyeing my little snacks here. I can get you some cookies if you would like a treat.”
The boy shook his head. “No thank you, ma’am. I was just looking at the shrinkies. I didn’t mean to stare while you… while you ate them.”
Rosalie made a sympathetic face. “I am sorry, my friend, but we do not have shrinkies for sale on Sky Canada quite yet. I was told we will soon, but not as of now. These ones are a snack I brought with me.”
“I hope you like them.” The young man’s face was beginning to blush.
“They are quite tasty,” Rosalie admitted. “I like how they wiggle on the way down.”
Rosalie smiled at the young man again. The boy’s face went fully red. He turned in his seat and buried his nose in a video game.
“Je pense que tu as un admirateur,” said Severine as she walked past. She was the only other flight attendant onboard who was a French-Canadian native.
"C'est drôle. Il me trouve attirante, mais il est trop gêné pour me parler. Si seulement il était un peu plus âgé." Rosalie replied offhand as she reached for another shrinkie.
“Please. Help. You’ve got to listen to me,” the shrinkie cried between Rosalie’s finger and thumb.
Rosalie gave the shrinkie – nineteen-year-old Guy Engels, a shoplifter from Luxemburg – no more than a passing glance before putting him into her mouth and swallowing him down.
***
Oliver
Rosalie’s Vortex box
Sky Canada Flight 9638
8:04 AM GMT
“Oliver! No!”
“Oliver!”
The cries from his two best friends sounded out as an enormous finger and thumb made their way into Oliver’s compartment. He tried to avoid them, but there really was nowhere to go. Finger and thumb grabbed Oliver. Then the box, his shouting friends, the other shrinkies all fell away as he shot upwards into the air, carried by Rosalie’s fingers.
The flight attendant seemed to be looking at something else, one of the passengers.
“No!” said Oliver. “Please don’t eat me!”
He immediately realized that he shouldn’t have said anything. His utterance caused the flight attendant’s deep green eyes to snap to him. He held out his hands, clasped together in supplication.
“I’ll do anything.”
Oliver's heart pounded in his chest like a trapped bird as Rosalie's mouth suddenly parted before him. The cabin lighting was just ambient enough to reveal an expansive abyss that stretches into the depths of her being. Dread washed over him, threatening to overwhelm his senses as his eyes widened in terror.
As Rosalie's lips parted, his gaze was involuntarily drawn to the expanse of her mouth. A milk white gateway of pearly teeth greeted him, framing a moist cavity with a playful coating of saliva over a taste bud studded tongue. Beyond that was a cavernous void that seemed to swallow the light around it.
Oliver's breath caught in his throat, his mind racing with a kaleidoscope of thoughts. The vastness of Rosalie's mouth taunted him with its formidable expanse. He was a mere speck in the face of her grandeur, a fragile existence teetering on the precipice of oblivion.
It felt like peering into the abyss, into a darkness that held his own nonexistence.
Oliver's gaze, fixed upon the gaping maw before him, was transfixed by what he knew what was to come. The abyss of her throat became a reflection of his deepest fears, an abyss from which he would never emerge. He had seen such a place before, every night in his nightmares. He’d dreamt it every night since Miriam had nearly eaten him. He had gazed down her throat too. Only this time, he knew there would be no last moment recognition. This time, he was taking the trip down, and would end up in this young flight attendant’s stomach.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Oliver was caught in a suspended state of dread, grappling with the desperate urge to survive as the woman’s gaping mouth rushed towards him.
In this chilling moment, Oliver's fear became a palpable presence, suffusing every inch of his being. His mind raced, desperate for a solution, a way to evade the dark depths that lay before him. With his heart pounding and his senses heightened, he mentally prepared to confront the harrowing unknown, aware that his very existence was about to be snuffed out in a single bite.
Full pink lips passed above and below Oliver. He was crossing the threshold, into Rosalie’s mouth. The tongue's muscular movements pressed him against the roof of the mouth, slathering him from head to toe in hot saliva.
“No!” screamed Oliver. “Please!”
The tongue seemed to tense, then curl around him, holding him tightly.
*GULP*
Oliver screamed as he passed through the muscular passage of the throat. The walls contracted and relaxed in synchronized motions, propelling him downward. The last thing Oliver ever saw was a moment’s glimpses of the uvula gently swaying above, contributing to the orchestration of swallowing.
Entering the long muscular tube designed to transport food and drink to the stomach, Oliver encountered rhythmic waves of peristalsis. They were incredibly powerful, created by muscles that were bigger than Oliver’s entire body. He resisted of course, but it was like trying to resist while in the constricting coils of an anaconda. The walls of the esophagus gripped and released, urging Oliver further along his digestive journey.
A few seconds later, Oliver arrived at the gateway to the stomach—the lower esophageal sphincter. This muscular ring relaxed and allowed him to pass through to the inner sanctum of the stomach. Oliver was expelled from the esophagus and fell. He screamed again.
***
Oliver
Inside Rosalie’s Stomach
8:07 AM GMT
As Oliver struggled to the surface of a muck that was like liquid mud, he realized it had finally happened. He was inside a human stomach. A world of moist, noisy darkness enveloped him. Though the blackness hid them, he could feel the immensity and power in the muscular walls of the stomach that surrounded him. The rhythmic movements of their contractions created a constant sense of motion despite Rosalie still being seated.
The environment was unpleasantly warm and humid, with the acidic gastric juices already beginning to irritate Oliver’s skin. The distinct smell of digestive fluids filled the air, a potent reminder of the stomach's role in breaking down food. Only this time, Oliver was the food.
There was a gurgle that was as loud as thunder, then a gentle churning sensation as the stomach contracted, working diligently to mix its contents. The sounds of gurgling and rumbling resonated around Oliver, creating an auditory backdrop that underscored the ongoing digestive process as the stomach continued its relentless task of breaking down food into smaller particles.
Amidst the darkness, and between the rumbling thunder of the stomach, there were occasional cries of pain. Oliver swore he heard someone speaking quickly in another language, though it was not one with which he was familiar. He considered trying to find his way over to them, if only to have company. It was so lonely in here. It was strange to feel lonely when he was insideanother person.
He began to move through the chyme towards the sound of shouting. The action caused more discomfort on his skin. Moving around in an acidic stomach was admittedly not the best idea. He was quickly reminded of the powerful chemical processes occurring around him.
The stomach walls shifted again, causing the contents withing the murky depths of the stomach to wobble and churn. Oliver tried to climb out of the chyme, keenly aware of the immense power of the woman who had devoured him. He thought he would be better off trying to climb the slippery stomach walls. At least that way, he might get out of the acids for a while.
A moment later, there was a scream and a splash. Someone else had just been eaten.
Welcome to hell, Oliver thought to himself.
A mumbling of a panicked voice sounded nearby. An instant later, yet another person fell into the stomach. Oliver heard him crying quietly a moment later. He began to make his way towards the person, but the constant squelching and relaxing of the stomach pressed people every which way. It made it impossible to come across someone in the dark.
Time seemed to pass differently within the stomach. Minutes felt like hours as Oliver floated within its confines, experiencing the relentless cycles of contraction and digestion. It became a world of its own, isolated from the external realities that existed beyond its walls. It was only pain, suffering, slow asphyxiation, and darkness.
While within the stomach, Oliver was both a witness and a participant in the intricate process of digestion.
As he continued to navigate this corrosive environment, he was aware the stomach was preparing him for his ultimate destiny. Its contents, including him, would eventually be transported further along the digestive tract, continuing their journey towards absorption into and elimination from Rosalie. Just as he was thinking things couldn’t get worse, they did.
The world shifted in a violent explosion sideways. If he’d thought the stomach was churning him before, it was nothing compared to now. He sloshed this way and that. It was like being in a blender.
She’s walking, Oliver realized. Walking where?
***
Rosalie
Somewhere over the Irish Sea
Sky Canada Flight 9638
8:26 AM GMT
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are hitting some pockets of slight turbulence. The captain has turned on the ‘fasten seatbelt’ sign, so we ask for your safety that you remain seated until the light is turned off.”
Rosalie strode between the aisle, every inch a poised and professional lady. She had a smile to greet each passenger. As she made her way down the aisle, she noticed a man in his early thirties giving her a flirtatious smile, trying to engage her in conversation. She gave him a polite but reserved smile back, sensing his attention and preferring to keep a professional distance.
Just as she was about to move on to the next row of seats, she heard a commotion from the back of the plane. Another passenger, an older woman, seemed to be in distress, her eyes wide with fear, her knuckles white from where they gripped the armrests.
“Do not worry, ma’am. We are experiencing something quite normal in flying. It is quite unpleasant but perfectly harmless.”
“Will it be like this the remainder of the flight?” the woman asked, clearly trying to sound merely curious but unable to prevent a tremor of fear from entering her voice.
“It will very likely pass soon.” Squeezing the woman’s hand, she left her briefly, then returned with a glass of water. “I will check back on you in a short while. Remember this is fairly common. If it were dangerous then I would look for another line of work.” The older woman gripped Rosalie’s arm tightly for a brief moment, smiling her thanks.
With the woman calmed, Rosalie then continued on with her duties, checking on the other passengers to ensure their safety and comfort. When she passed the teenage boy, she slipped him a wink and an extra packet of chocolate chip cookies. The boy blushed but smiled back.
Just then a passenger gestured frantically for her attention. As she approached, she could see the man had spilled his soda all over his tray table and was trying to mop it up with a napkin.
"I'm so sorry," he said, looking up at her with a sheepish expression.
"It's okay," she replied with a smile. "These things happen. Let me help you clean it up."
She quickly grabbed a few napkins and began wiping up the spill. As she worked, she made friendly conversation with the passenger, asking about his travels and recommending some local attractions in her home city in Canada.
Within minutes, the mess was cleaned up and the passenger was settled back into his seat with a fresh drink. “Hold tight to this one,” Rosalie joked with him. “You never know when we will hit another rough patch.”
Eventually, the turbulence passed. The busy flight attendants finally returned to their seats. Rosalie breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have a brief respite from the constant hustle and bustle of the busy flight. She smiled and reached into the box for her next shrinkie.
***
Miriam
Rosalie’s Vortex box
8:41 AM GMT
“Julian, help! Help!” Miriam screamed as the enormous digits of the flight attendant wormed their way into the little confines of her cubicle. She shrank away, crying in fear. But there was nowhere to go.
Julian punched and kicked the wall dividing them, desperate to aid his sister. He was shouting something, though in the din of the moment Miriam couldn’t have said what it was. She was too busy watching those fingers come closer. There was no place to hide.
The finger and thumb closed round her.
Then suddenly, they were gone.
Looking up, Julian appeared just as perplexed as Miriam. What had happened?
Through the transparent walls of their prison, Miriam, Julian, and the remainder of the shrinkies within watched as Rosalie took swift steps down the long aisle of the plane. She had been called away on some errand.
Miriam sank with her back to the wall, gasping. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears; her fingers trembled with shock. She watched the beautiful flight attendant talking to a passenger. Apparently, Rosalie had work to do. Miriam sighed. She had been saved. But how long would it be until the giant beauty returned?
***
Rosalie
Sky Canada Flight 9638
8:41 AM GMT
Just as Rosalie was about to eat another shrinkie, a passenger's voice cut through the quiet:
"Excuse me, miss? Can I get a glass of whiskey, please?"
The young woman sighed inwardly, knowing that duty called even when she was on a break. She stood up and made her way back to the beverage cart, taking care to keep a professional smile on her face despite her moment of frustration.
As she poured the spirit into a small plastic cup, she couldn't help but think about the contrast between the peacefulness of her break and the constant demands of the passengers. Flights are like that, she thought to herself. Nothing to do one moment, too much to do the next.
Turbulence rattled the plane once again. Showing expert balance, Rosalie handed the glass of whiskey to the passenger without a drop spilled. The plan dropped suddenly, making everything feel momentarily half its weight. As it did, Rosalie was suddenly very aware of the half dozen shrinkies inside her stomach. They were definitely still alive, and they clearly had been shaken about by the turbulence. It seemed they were even less happy about it than the passengers Rosalie was working so hard to help. As the turbulence passed, the young woman felt the shrinkies in her belly fall back to the bottom of her stomach. She stifled a small burp.
They’ll settle down when I get back to my seat and relax, Rosalie told herself as she turned to go. A pleasant thought occurred to her, And there are still a few left to be eaten. I shouldn’t keep them waiting.
“Can I have your number with this glass of whiskey?”
The query made the young woman pause. Rosalie turned to the man she had given the whiskey. She fixed a tired but professional smile on her face. It was the best she could manage after all the running around.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't think my employer would appreciate me providing complimentary services of that nature."
“Come on,” persisted the man. “No one would know but us. I could take you to dinner at the best restaurant in Canada. And I would be a perfect gentleman.”
"I'm flattered, but I'm afraid I'm only allowed to serve beverages, not hearts."
With that, Rosalie turned and headed back to her seat. A glance cast quickly over one shoulder confirmed what she had already sensed. The man was watching her, staring at her bottom. Gross.
Rosalie refused to let that fool bother her or make her feel self-conscious. She’d seen his type before and she hadn’t been impressed then. Head held high, she returned to her seat.
***
Miriam
Rosalie’s Vortex Box
8:45 AM GMT
Rosalie had eaten several more people after Oliver, but Miriam hadn’t reacted nearly so badly to them. Oliver had been eaten. Sparing him a few months ago hadn’t saved him. It had only delayed his death. Instead of Miriam digesting him, it was this flight attendant, this Rosalie who would absorb his body into her own.
And because Miriam had spared Oliver those months ago, now she and her family would suffer the same fate. It was grim irony to witness Oliver being eaten. It wasn’t so much that she was sad for him. Concern for her own wellbeing and that of her family, combined with shock of nearly being eaten herself a moment ago had superseded any feelings of sympathy she might otherwise have had for Oliver.
No, it was not that the flight attendant, the attractive Rosalie had eaten her friend. It was that Oliver had been eaten at all that bothered her so much. Sparing him months ago had accomplished nothing good and had only brought about her own family’s demise.
Her eyes lingered on the flight attendant's striking features, taking in every curve and contour of her body. Somehow, nearly being eaten by the woman had made Miriam hyperfocus upon her, so that she could barely take her eyes off the young Canadian. She was beautiful, confident, striking, and every inch the sort of female hero that Miriam loved to read about in books. Rosalie was the sort of woman Miriam had always wanted to be.
Miriam watched as the colossal woman soothed a nervous passenger one moment and poured whiskey in rattling turbulence the next. She hadn’t even spilled a drop or seemed the least bit unnerved.
Just then, Rosalie seemed to have a brief exchange of words with a male customer who was clearly interested in her. They were too far away to overhear, but the body language was not lost on Miriam. She had a good enough view of them both to understand what had happened.
The passenger had approached her, assuming that his attentions would be welcomed. But the flight attendant was not so easily swayed. She had clearly seen men like him before, with their entitled attitudes and their objectifying gazes. And she just as clearly had no patience for them.
For the first time since seeing her, Miriam saw Rosalie’s gaze chill to a frosty detachment, refusing to be reduced to an object of desire. Now she was more than just a pretty face, more than just a body to be admired. She had dreams and achievements of her own, and she was determined not to let this man's gaze minimize who she was.
Rosalie said something to him, and Miriam saw the man’s expression of surprise at the remark. Once again, Miriam could not overhear what she said, but it was clearly a firm dismissal.
For a moment, the passenger seemed almost taken aback, as if he had never encountered a woman with such strength of character before. And yet, even as he recoiled, she remained steadfast. Back straight, Rosalie strode away.
Beside her, Julian was surprised to see a change in Miriam. His sister’s eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks crusted in the salt of dried tears, her body was curled in on itself in a defensive posture, bereft of hope. In short, she appeared much like a forlorn captive from a bygone era, awaiting her turn for execution at the gallows. But as Miriam watched Rosalie defy the flirtatious passenger with ease, a small grin appeared on Miriam’s face, tugging her at the corners of dried and cracked lips.
For the most fleeting of moments, Miriam saw Rosalie as more than simply their executioner. Rosalie had stood up for herself, and in doing so, she had stood up for every woman who had ever been objectified. And Rosalie strode confidently away, the captive shrinkie couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for the woman. Miriam supposed that pride was an odd emotion to feel for someone who was almost certainly going to kill her. Still, there it was.
Just as this occurred Miriam, Rosalie sat back down in her seat. To another flight attendant she said. “I just want a few minutes to finish my shrinkies.”
Miriam shuddered. The moment was gone, and the harsh reality of their situation bore down on them both once more.
***
Rosalie
Somewhere over Ireland
Sky Canada Flight 9638
8:51 AM GMT
Rosalie flipped the page of one of the magazines one of the previous crewmembers had left aboard. There were the typical ads for things she didn’t need, a few coupons offering discounts for those same things she didn’t need. There was an article about tobacco, another about the best pasta places in Italy.
Somehow, she had begun reading an article about Vortex Foods. The more she read, the less appealing finishing the article seemed. And yet, it was like a train wreck, it was so damning to the company’s moral practices that she couldn’t quite pull her attention away. She took a sip from her hydro-flask and read on.
“Vortex makes promises of conducting ‘quality control’ upon its victims, but it is only a ruse to get more people into their custody. After running a perfunctory check based on what is referred to by leaked internal company documents as a ‘social score’, Vortex henchmen, officially entitled ‘field operatives’, are authorized to apprehend and miniaturize a person. These captives are then transported to the nearest Vortex central hub for cleaning, packaging, and distribution.
The claims that all shrinkies have criminal records or that they are social nonproducers might contain some truth, but there are too many innocent people who find themselves reduced in size and served as snacks despite a total lack of faults of their own. Furthermore, it is unclear how the so-called ‘social score’ is even calculated, as company officials continue to deny the very existence of such a scoring system. Equally maddening is that innocents cannot find justice because of various laws protecting Vortex from any form of accountability for their actions.
But how often do boxes of shrinkies contain innocents? One recent study has shown that there are more than most people would care to consider, with good odds that there is at least one innocent person in even the smallest of boxes. Worse still, the law of averages means that there could be a great deal more than only one."
Rosalie flipped the page closed. “This is the last thing I need to read right now.”
The comment was to herself, but it received a reply. Severine was making herself coffee in the nook where Rosalie was reading her magazine. She looked over at her colleague. “What’s that, dear?”
“I was just reading about Vortex Foods. According to this article, a sizable number of the people who are shrunk are innocent of any crimes. Or so this reporter would have us believe.”
“I’ve heard that before too, dear. But you mustn’t believe everything you read.”
“A good point,” Rosalie replied. “But it’s an interesting article. They make some convincing arguments that give one pause.” She raised her eyebrows. “I think I’ll finish my shrinkies before I read the rest of it. I’ve been looking forward to them and I don’t want spoil it by imagining them all to be poor innocent men and women who were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
The two women exchanged knowing looks.
Severine stirred some cream into her coffee. “That’s why I avoid articles like that one. I don’t want to give up shrinkies because one of them might not be something like a murderer or rapist. Of course, not every shrinkie is as bad as that. There was this online documentary recently called ‘Deception Unmasked, The Vortex Foods Exposé.’ They argued that many of the shrinkies are not just criminals or lowlifes. A small but persistent percentage of them are simply innocent people, at least according to the film.” Severine paused, as if the very idea was disturbing to comprehend. Finally, she added, “I didn’t really believe that, but Chris and I watched the first half hour of it. We had to turn it off or we both would have stopped eating shrinkies forever.”
Rosalie nodded grimly. “I saw that documentary, I managed to see the whole thing,” she said quietly, struggling slightly with the lid on her water bottle. She cursed under her breath at the obstinate cap and pushed it back into place. “It was very convincing and more than a little startling,” she said as she raised the bottle to her lips and took a sip. “Do you recall when they discussed the various computations of how many innocent people the average Vortex consumer has eaten?”
Severine’s shoulders tensed, her lips curled as if she had bitten into a lemon. “I do remember. That’s when we turned off the documentary. It gave me nightmares. But there’s no way the numbers they presented could really be that high, could they?” She gave Rosalie an expectant look, clearly waiting for a reassuring comment from the other woman. But all Rosalie could do was shrug helplessly.
Severine’s face twisted into a grimace, her eyebrows furrowing together in worry. Her fear seemed to deepen as she considered the possibility that the numbers were genuine.
Eventually Rosalie shook her head. “I don’t think those numbers could possibly be right, but it sure does make you think about what is happening to anyone who goes missing. It makes you wonder if they were whisked away by Vortex. After watching the film, I couldn’t eat shrinkies for a month because I kept imagining them to be innocent people.”
Both women laughed nervously, more as an outlet of nerves than anything humorous. In a more upbeat tone, Rosalie said, “To put both our minds at ease, I later read many of the concepts in the documentary were debunked. Most of the facts presented in the film were half-truths. The rest of it was imagined data and conspiracy theories cobbled together. Several of the people who made the film have been largely discredited as attention seekers and charlatans.”
The green-eyed flight attendant shifted her weight in her seat, turning to face her friend more directly. “My guess is that no matter how seriously that documentary was presented, it was not really meant to be taken as one hundred percent factual. It’s like that show, ‘Ancient Extra-Terrestrials’ on the Historical Channel. It’s good for a laugh, but not much more. Certainly, there are enough facts to make the program seem credible, or to make the viewer scratch their head. The problems only come when people begin getting the wrong idea from the whole thing and treat it as if everything is factual. I think that’s why most big platforms removed the documentary so quickly after it was posted. People were taking it as factual.”
“And thank goodness it was removed,” Severine agreed. “I don’t need their lies ruining my appetite. Shrinkies are bad people and that is that.”
Rosalie seemed to freeze in place, her teeth bared in a wince.
“You feel differently?” Severine asked, seeing Rosalie’s demurred reply.
“Well,” Rosalie shifted in her seat while crossing one leg over the other. “I've heard a lot of reports on this subject, and that exposé was quite convincing. While I think the film grossly overestimated the number of innocent people stuck inside shrinkie boxes, I believe there are still more out there than Vortex wants to admit.” She looked at Severine with an apologetic face. “But they are so good, I haven't been able to completely give them up. I have tried to limit my consumption by only eating them as treats during long flights or as snacks after workouts. That has worked for the most part, though I do allow myself to give in to cravings from time to time.”
“You still eat them anyway? What if one of the shrinkies in that box is innocent?” Severine gave a taunting grin, enjoying playing with her coworker.
Rosalie’s face twisted into a grimace. “I know. It’s terrible. But they’re a guilty pleasure. And I would have no way to know the innocent from the rest.” Her grimace twisted into a smirk. “They all taste the same, and they all wiggle pleasantly on the way down.”
Severine took a sip of coffee. “Don’t feel too guilty. I still eat them too. Though I would disagree on one point. I think that most of the people in boxes deserve to be there. And while I admit that there are certainly some people who are unjustly shrunk down, that number is probably not very high. Besides, those few are beyond help. It’s like global warming; it’s a problem that needs to be solved but I can’t do much about it. Certainly, my not eating Vortex won’t help them. If I don’t eat them then someone else will.”
“That’s pretty much how most people look at it,” Rosalie agreed. She flipped another page of her magazine, then gave a startled gasp and began to laugh.
“What is it, dear?”
Rosalie passed the magazine to her colleague.
“An advertisement featuring that model Anastazja Kamińska in a bikini. Oh, and a blurb about how eating shrinkies will boost one’s derrière,” Severine said, disapproval heavy in her voice. She wrinkled her nose at a photograph of the Polish fitness model lying naked on a beach with half a dozen shrinkies standing atop her shapely bottom.
“How did they convince those shrinkies to stand there without running off while they took the picture?” Severine wondered aloud.
“And why did they put this advertisement in the same magazine as an article about how many shrinkies are innocent people?” Rosalie asked her tone heavy with irony.
Both women laughed cheerfully together. This time the laughter was genuine. “Someone didn’t plan this magazine out very well,” Severine said.
“Clearly not,” Rosalie set the magazine aside. She could return to reading it later. Taking another swig from her hydro-flask, she reached for the half full box of shrinkies, placing the box on her lap. The diminutive people within looked up at her, fear in their eyes.
“Can you imagine being an innocent person in your Vortex box, only to be eaten and become part of your bottom?” Severine asked.
Rosalie flicked her gaze at her coworker like a horse might flick its tail at flies. “Ugh, Severine! That is not at all what I want to consider while finishing my shrinkies.” After a pause, she moved her head from side to side, as if weighing the merits of the comment. “Even if it’s probably happened to many of my shrinkies. It would explain why I can barely get my rear end into these dreadful airline uniform skirts.” She stared at the shrinkies in the box before her with something near to sympathy.
Severine seemed to realize she had gone a bit too far. “You look quite attractive, dear. You needn’t worry. The man in seat 17 C certainly noticed your hourglass figure, though he was far from the only one.”
“Perhaps so.” Rosalie gave her friend a grateful smile to show there were no hard feelings. “Either way, I am finishing my snack before some other guilty thought ransacks what remaining joy I can take in them.”
Severine finished her coffee, placed her cup in the sink, then walked forward to respond to a passenger pressing a “call” button.
Turning back to her box of shrinkies. Only about half a dozen remained, cowering in fear as they waited for their owner’s next move. She spotted a delicious looking young man and reached in to grab him.
***
Miriam
Rosalie’s Vortex Box
8:58 AM GMT
Miriam let out a bloodcurdling scream as Rosalie’s finger and thumb invaded her brother’s tiny compartment. Julian had just enough time to look up at Miriam, their eyes meeting for what would be the final time.
Then Julian was gone, lifted out of the box by the giantess. A whirlwind of emotions engulfed Miriam as she stood, watching her sibling’s fate. Panic tightened in her chest; her heartbeat thudded in her ears. The sight was horrifying and surreal, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away.
A surge of helplessness washed over Miriam. A knot formed in her stomach, her muscles tense with fear as she desperately searched for a way to intervene and protect her beloved brother. Miriam's eyes welled up with tears, her hands trembled involuntarily.
This can’t be happening. It can’t. Not to Julian. He’s too special.
A mix of disbelief and terror froze her in place, her eyes unable to move away from the heart-wrenching scene unfolding before her. She could scarcely believe the immense threat that Julian now faced, and it sent waves of anguish and sorrow through her.
Guilt once more crept into Miriam's consciousness, gnawing at her thoughts. It was all her fault that her brother was being eaten alive. It was all her fault that her parents and sister were likely already dead. Why had she thought she could attack a megacorporation and get away with it? She could have been more vigilant, more protective of her siblings.
Rosalie did not hesitate.
There was no inspection of Julian, no toying with him. Rosalie simply brought him to her lips, extended her tongue, and pressed it against her brother’s body. Then she drew him in. The lips closed.
“Julian!” Miriam screamed, “No!!”
And screamed. And screamed some more.
Rosalie’s throat pulsed ever so gently, and as it did her hand returned. For a moment Miriam thought it was coming for her, but no such luck. It grabbed the man in the cell behind hers. She watched, numb, as he was tossed into Rosalie’s mouth. Rosalie rolled him about. Miriam was waiting for her to swallow when gargantuan objects suddenly forced their way into her cell; a finger and a thumb, tipped in red nail paint. They grabbed her. Miriam resisted but there wasn’t any point. She was powerless to fight them off. After the finger and thumb closed around her body, she was brought up to Rosalie’s face with such speed that she nearly lost consciousness.
And there was Rosalie, her face taking up everything Miriam could see. Her beautiful green eyes shone, her lips were still pursed, clearly moving something about on her tongue. Then her full lips parted. At the back of her tongue Mariam saw the other man hadn’t been swallowed. He was sprawled out, coated in saliva and flailing weakly. The tongue extended towards her as she was moved forward. The wet organ pressed against her, coating her in warm saliva. Then it drew backwards, carrying her with it into the enormous cavern that was Rosalie’s mouth. The lips closed behind her.
Then everything went dark.
“N-no,” Miriam’s whimper sounded hollow in the wet darkness. She began to crawl forward towards where she had seen the other man.
Suddenly there was a terrible squelching sound and Miriam was pressed flat on the bumpy tongue as it flattened her against the roof of the mouth. Miriam struggled; her face turned to the side. She tried to suck in a breath, but the tongue was so thickly coated in saliva that she ended up breathing in half air, half spit. She began to cough and retch, desperately trying to suck in another breath and half gagging on the thick saliva. Her body thrashed about involuntarily, or at least she attempted to thrash about. The tongue was relentless in holding her fast against the soft flesh of the mouth so that her flailing amounted to almost nothing. Miriam choked out another scream of defiance and beat at the tongue as best she could in the hot, sticky darkness.
***
Rosalie
Somewhere over Ireland
Sky Canada Flight 9638
8:59 AM GMT
Rosalie smiled as she savored the sensation of having two shrinkies on her tongue at once. The first had been a bit lackluster. He’s almost boring, she had thought privately. To spice things up, she had decided to swallow him along with another shrinkie. Swallowing two shrinkies together would enhance the pleasant sensation they imparted while going down her esophagus. The second shrinkie she’d picked was more than active. This little one was busy screaming and moving about on her tongue in a defiant fashion. It was absolutely delightful. She had been about to swallow them together when the female shrinkie had begun shouting and thrashing about, so Rosalie had held her on the tongue a moment longer, the better to savor her activity.
The new tiny continued her delightful defiance. She continued to scream and fight, yelling curses, the poor dear. It was a pleasant addition to the other shrinkie who was still barely struggling.
Still, Rosalie couldn’t play with them forever. With a gulp, Rosalie swallowed. Once again, she was not disappointed. The terrified screams of both shrinkies faded almost at once, but the sensation…
Wow. Rosalie closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of the two shrinkies squirming so delightfully together. That was fantastic. She had distinctly felt the little lump of food that represented two shrunken people move down her esophagus. She had been fully aware of every inch of their progress before the pair had finally disappeared into her belly.
A smile quirked at the corners of Rosalie’s full lips. Those two had been positively delicious. She looked back at her box. She was going to eat two more together. And maybe, she pondered to herself, I can swallow three at once.
***
Miriam
Rosalie’s esophagus
8:59 AM GMT
The powerful contraction of the esophageal muscles pressed Miriam and her companion together, forcing them DOWN deeper and deeper into the young Canadian’s body.
Her screams were lost in the blackness. The esophageal muscles contract around her, pressing the air out of her lungs with massive pressure. Miriam beat against her progress, trying to dig her fingers into the smooth slick muscles that surrounded them as they half-fell, half were forced down this black, biological well.
Miriam’s fingers pushed and clawed at the fleshy walls, desperate for leverage or purchase or anything, a hold in this situation. But she found none. It was smooth, wet, and slick. She couldn’t hold on to anything, no matter how hard she tried.
The other man who had been swallowed with her was struggling too. Some innate survival instinct had kicked in, and he too thrashed and bucked accordingly as they were conveyed together down a dark, long, living tube. They fought against Rosalie, a confused tangle of slimy arms and legs.
None of it mattered.
A moment later they were expelled into the stomach. There was a moment of freefall through hot, acidic air. Then-
SPLASH!
They fell into a stomach filled with suspended sediment in unpleasantly warm water. The man who had been swallowed with Miriam struggled back to the surface of the stomach beside her.
Miriam felt the acrid liquid that filled the stomach almost immediately, and it stung. She spit out what had trickled into her mouth and nose, and tried to scrub away any residue of the liquid and saliva from her body.
“Julian!” she screamed. She gasped, taking a ragged breath of air that felt heavy with moisture and burning with acid. “Julian,” she choked again.
A hand grabbed her. “I’m here,” said a voice. She gripped the hand like it was a lifeline. She turned towards the sound but in the blackness of the stomach, she couldn’t see a thing.
“Julian!” she cried again, this time with relief. They hugged in the darkness.
“Oliver is here too. He’s still here.”
“Miriam,” said Oliver’s voice. It sounded pained and haggard, but it was him.
“It’s my fault we’re all here,” Miriam broke down. “It’s all my fault.”
“No, it’s not your fault. It’s Vortex,” Julian replied. “They are the ones who-”
New screams emanating from above them sounded in the dark chamber. They fell into the stomach with a splash. New arrivals. They surfaced not far away, one screaming for help, the other simply crying.
“We’re going to die here,” said Miriam.
“But we are together,” Julian reassured her.
As if needing the final word, the stomach rumbled with ominous foreboding. Rosalie’s digestive system was beginning to gear up.
The three of them tread water together in a circle, taking what comfort they could from one another’s presence. They stayed together when two more people fell into the stomach a moment later. Suddenly there was a violent rush of water, washing them about. Miriam struggled to swim to the surface. When the stomach settled as much as it did, she was clinging to the side of a slowly moving stomach wall, trying to keep from slipping beneath the water. The walls were too slick to climb, but she was able to cling to them just enough to help remain on the surface.
“Oliver? Julian?” She cried out to them in the darkness. She thought she heard an answer, but it was drowned out as the stomach rumbled yet again. For a moment, the acids were more diluted, their concentration reduced by the large drink of water Rosalie had just taken. But after a moment the acidic burn returned, seemingly even more fierce than before.
In the darkness of Rosalie’s belly, Miriam clung to life, listening to the wails of her fellow shrinkies as they cried for help that would never come.
Twenty minutes later, the last shrinkie would fall silent. Miriam, who had managed to stay alive through it all, still clung to the side of the stomach. Her body was badly burned, her strength fading. The lack of cries struck her as horrifying. Only a moment ago it had been a place of constant shouts for help. Now, there was only the ominous sound of the stomach gurgling, briefly interrupted by rumbling thunder as Rosalie apparently concluded her meal with a short, content burp.
Miriam sobbed. Her brother was gone. Her friend was gone. Soon she would be gone too. Then Rosalie would digest them all and they would become part of her.
She slipped beneath the water, unable to hold on any longer.
***
Rosalie
Sky Canada Flight 9638
09:12 AM EST
The wheels touched down, sending a rumble through the cabin that slowly ground to a low roll. A moment later, Severine’s voice echoed throughout the cabin.
“Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of all of us on board, welcome to Canada. Please remain seated until the airplane has come to a complete stop.” Switching easily over to French, Severine repeated the announcement. “Mesdames et messieurs, bienvenue à Canada. Nous vous demandons de rester assis jusqu'à l'arrêt complet de l'avion.” Hesitating for the briefest of moments during which Rosalie knew Severine was thinking through her next words, she spoke in a somewhat uncertain German. “Meine Damen und Herren, im Namen von uns allen an Bord möchte ich Sie in Kanada willkommen heißen. Bitte bleiben Sie noch einen Augenblick sitzen, bis das Flugzeug zum völligen Stillstand gekommen ist.“
Rosalie waited along with the rest of the crew as the plane made its way to the gate. Once the fasten seatbelt sign was turned off, passengers began to stand and collected their baggage from the overhead bins. A few made telephone calls.
Rosalie waved goodbye to the passengers as they disembarked the plane. There was the cute boy who was almost too afraid to talk to her. There was that poor old woman who had been afraid of turbulence. She gave only a polite nod to the man who had asked for her number.
After a while, all the passengers were gone. Rosalie gathered her things and walked gratefully from the plain. From there it was only a short walk to her car. Meanwhile, deep inside her intestines, the digested remains of a dozen shrunken people sloshed around, slowly being broken down into nutrients that Rosalie would absorb over the next few hours.
It was a twenty-minute drive home, but when she reached her apartment, the young woman walked inside with a sigh of relief. She changed into running clothes, then did a twenty-minute jog outside. She didn’t run for distance but did the same hundred-meter sprint up a long hill near her home, walking back down each time to start again. After being cooped up in a plane all day it felt good to stretch her legs. Returning home, she took a shower, then made a simple but healthy meal of chicken and vegetables. After eating, she loaded her dishes into the sink and collapsed onto the couch, drifting off to sleep for a few hours.
She dreamed sweet dreams of flying in a faraway land, where she met a handsome prince named Thaddee who asked her to marry him and help benevolently rule his kingdom. After she was made queen, she was appointed a page who placed a crown on her head. The page looked just like the young man who had been so shy towards her on the plane. Somehow, the name Julian came to her mind. Though she had barely registered the name, her subconscious recalled hearing it the day before.
“Thank you, Julian,” she said as the boy laid the crown on her head.
“You’re welcome, Your Majesty. Though my name is not Julian. That was your last Page, but you ate him.”
“Oh right,” Rosalie remembered. “Don’t worry. I am sure you will do such a good job as a page that I won’t have to eat you too.” She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and the boy smiled at her.
She awoke just as she was riding her winged unicorn around her new kingdom with Thaddee.
Rosalie stretched, then got up to make herself some coffee. She had the day off and she didn’t want to waste it. After all, she was flying back to Germany the day after tomorrow.
She walked to a nearby gym, then worked out for a little over an hour. After returning home, she showered and went to bed for good. The next morning, she met a friend for coffee and breakfast. The afternoon was reserved for doing laundry while she spent time leisurely reading. She had dinner with her parents at their home and walked about the block with them afterwards. Then she returned to her little apartment. By the following morning, the flight attendant was back at the airport.
***
Rosalie
Grocery store, somewhere in Germany
A few days later
Rosalie walked past the display of cereal boxes and stepped into to the aisle containing Vortex products. There were the typical advertisements of young men and women holding the plastic boxes. One even showed a picture of that Polish fitness model Anastazja Kamińska. She was holding a box of shrinkies in her left hand and seemed to be offering another with her right. Thankfully, she was not as scantily clad as in many of her other advertisements. In this picture, she simply wore spandex pants and a cutoff shirt with the swirling Vortex logo on its front.
They probably needed a less ostentatious advertisement for a family friendly establishment, Rosalie thought to herself. She remembered the licentious photograph she’d seen of the Polish model in the magazine the other day. That would hardly would have been appropriate for a grocery store. It isn’t appropriate for a magazine either. I can’t imagine putting myself on display while totally naked. Rosalie grimaced at the idea of a bunch of strangers looking at her naked. She certainly wouldn't want that.
Rosalie's attention returned to the available Vortex Foods boxes. The store had clearly restocked since she’d been here a few days ago. Rosalie’s green eyes roamed the shelves. Inside the boxes, shrinkies stared back at her, some clearly afraid, others beyond fear and simply bored, waiting for whomever would eat them.
Simply seeing the shrinkies in their little cubes was enough to make Rosalie’s mouth water. She hadn’t eaten any shrinkies since she had last been here. Maybe she would treat herself and get a medium box, rather than a small one. The medium boxes were on the lowest shelf. She bent over to grab one of them.
Several dozen shrinkies looked up in terror as she grabbed the box. Some of them moved about, making Rosalie smile. They certainly looked lively, which-
Something pressed against Rosalie’s bottom. Rosalie jumped, immediately straightening up as she turned to look behind her.
She found herself staring into a familiar face; it was the very same blonde woman who had given her the box of shrinkies in this store last time. Like herself, the other woman had been looking at the display on the other side of the aisle. They had simultaneously bent over to reach for something on the lowest shelf. Rosalie realized that her bottom had bumped against the other woman’s rear as they had bent over.
Neither Rosalie nor the other woman knew it, but in the brief moment in which their behinds had touched, Miriam and Julian Lindner were, in a sense, briefly reunited with their parents Wolfgang and Ulrike. Some of both Miriam and Julian Lindner were now a part of Rosalie’s buttocks, which had pressed against what the other woman had absorbed of Wolfgang and Ulrike Lindner into her own. For an instant, the four family members were pressed together in a post-digestive facsimile of reunion, now nothing more than fat and muscle on the bodies of the women who had eaten them.
Neither woman was aware of this connection, nor would they have cared had they known.
“Mon Dieu,” said Rosalie, reverting to her native French for the briefest of moments. Switching over to German, she greeted the lady. “Please excuse me, Madame.”
The German woman had turned around just as quickly. Hand on chest, her blue eyes were wide as she looked back at Rosalie.
There was a moment of shared amusement as the two women realized what had happened.
“You are back visiting us again. Stocking up for another flight?” asked the German woman, her eyes moving from Rosalie to the box of shrinkies in her hand.
“Exactly,” Rosalie replied, flashing the woman a cheerful grin. “How nice to see you again.”
“Mom,” said a nearby voice of a young woman, speaking in German. Rosalie and the other woman turned to see an attractive university aged girl walking up the aisle. She looked quite similar to her mother, save for the fact that she was about half her age. This surprised Rosalie a little; the woman must have either had her when she had been quite young herself, or was actually older than she looked.
“Konstantin says he is running behind. Can you drop me off at his place?”
“Of course, Lisa,” said the German woman.
Lisa stopped beside her mother, curiously looking at Rosalie with the same clear blue eyes. Then she smiled kindly, pearly white teeth showing between her soft lips.
While Wolfgang and Ulrike Lindner had been eaten by her mother, Denise Lindner had ended up being eaten by Lisa. Like her siblings and parents, the nutrients her consumer had absorbed had been distributed throughout her body, particularly adding to the girl’s breasts and her buttocks. Lisa cocked her hip to one side, causing her butt cheeks to shift. What remained of Denise gently wobbled along with them, hidden away beneath a pair of tight-fitting jeans.
This was the closest proximity the Lindner family would ever be to one another again, all five of them now part of the three women who had eaten them. As they waved goodbye to each other, Lisa and her mother walked in one direction, Rosalie the other.
As Miriam, Julian, and Oliver were now part of Rosalie’ blood, flesh and bones, they went with her. All of them had been absorbed throughout her body, becoming part of her arms and legs, her abdomen, her breasts, her buttocks, her eyelashes, her blood, her skin, her hair, her sweat, even her brain. Rosalie would never think about them ever again and had already half forgotten about them. Despite this, they would be a part of Rosalie forever.
The Vortex box in her hand was held before her. Inside the box, a dozen shrinkies looked up in fear. They knew the beautiful woman who had bought them would eventually eat them. But even they never knew the names of the people she’d eaten before, or whom she would eat on trips to come.
The End.