Anxiety, of course, is something one should always feel when in a place that could be regarded as dangerous or even deadly to oneself. Considering a human mouth, especially that of the ever-charming and possibly slightly unhinged Jo, would definitely be considered a dangerous (not to mention disgusting) environment to a tiny person such as myself (and, of course, had in the last twelve or so hours proved that), I would attest to anyone that my anxiety about being within was perfectly natural, even if it was an extremely exhilarating experience at the same time. For me, it was like skydiving; obviously dangerous, but it was a hell of a fun ride to do it. The difference of course, was that in most extreme sports my survival relied heavily on myself and myself alone; in my current situation, ultimately the giantess who I was still serving as flavour packet to could easily decide whether I lived or died. Thus again, naturally my anxiety would be heightened.
It was also perfectly natural, I believe, for my anxiety about my immediate future within Jo's mouth to be more heightened than normal when considering the night ahead. As my titanic captor-gone-partygoer made a call for a taxi, of course jostling me around in the living cavern she had forced me to live in in the process, I took the time while gaining a few more bruises for the road to assess what I might be up against in the coming hours. Dancing was an obvious- I had dealt with Jo moving excessively for long periods of time before- as was drinking, both regular drinks and shots. The latter was certainly more dangerous than the former where drinks were concerned. Shots were called shots for a reason, after all; you were expected to down them in one shot, with almost no mouth time. Naturally this was because the spirits used for shots all, in my admittedly limited experience, tasted like a cleaning solvent of some description, but as a tiny person taking up semi-willing residence in the maw of someone doing one, I was going to need to avoid the shots much more than usual, lest I wanted to end up biting the bullet myself. I also had to consider how alcohol would affect Jo's treatment of me; perhaps my biggest worry was how a drunken giantess, either intentionally or unaware, would deal with the little speck she could feel within her maw. In that, I could only hope that fate, in all its 'divine wisdom', treated me favourably and her drunken mind didn't feel like ending my existence between her teeth, or worse. My newfound determination to escape my equally newly imposed slavery was still burning strong, a fire keeping the cold darkness of my anxiety from overwhelming me. I was worried, sure, but I was also confident. I had survived Jo and her hellscape of a mouth for this long; I could survive for a few more hours.
Partnering this strange melting pot of anxiety and determination was the ever-present mix of disgust and fetish-induced wonder at my surroundings. By this late stage, any vestige of cleanliness had once again been purged from the living grotto, and it showed in the state of it. As mentioned, the white film that had covered Jo's ever-inquisitive tongue in the morning, seeming almost months ago now, had recolonised the muscle completely, a slimy plain of bacteria and other nasty micro-organisms that made me shudder to think about whenever it decided to give me another taste. Mushed up bits of rice, fish, and broken rags of seaweed sporadically appeared between the sulphur-coloured boulders of her teeth, thanks to my 'laziness' at thus far not bothering to remove them, and were complemented by the seeming network of gummy, revolting plaque that had now built up across the blemished surface of said boulders. The ever present rivers and lake of her saliva was as warm and disgustingly swamp like as always, oozing in from around her maw and periodically being condemned to the worse stew in the depths of her body. Worst, perhaps, was the smell; the humid and steam-room esque environment made the aforementioned stench of fish so overwhelming it made my eyes water, and my nose slightly burn; coupled with the slowly diffusing and mingling scent of Jo's general halitosis made it all the worse. It was almost enough to rival the infamously terrible conditions of her maw upon my first fateful entry, only this time this horrible stench was sealed behind the lips of an otherwise dolled up and moderately attractive girl, rather than the pre-routine Jo who had slurped me up back in the morning. Whoever goes in for a kiss with this mouth will get a nasty surprise, I mused to myself- even if it's not because my tiny body accidentally gets caught up in the snog.
As it happened, my oral prison's climate was soon to be changed again at the whim of my giant associate. She stepped into the taxi, which had in my musings had the time to arrive from wherever, and told the driver to take her to the centre of town.
"Want to pick up anyone on the way, miss?" The gruff, deep voice was more discernible than most in the fairly closed area of the taxi.
I knew exactly why the resultant giggle that boomed around me framed her reply. "No, it's just me tonight, I'm afraid. Thank you, though, you're too kind."
"Anything to make me more money..." the driver mumbled in reply, before I heard the familiar rumble of the engine spring to life and the car drive away into the night. For a few minutes, there was silence; at least between the two of them, while of course my world was, as it always was, dominated by the ambient chorus of Jo's body. Unfortunately, sweet things never seem to last, and Jo's ability to find new ways to torture me inside her own gob never seemed to fail her.
"Hey, do you mind if I smoke in here?"
I've never been a big fan of smoking, in any form. Ever since I had lost loved ones from diseases caused by the filthy habit, I had stayed about as far away from it as possible. Cigarette smoke made me cough just being near it, and the stench itself was repulsive. I had never understood how someone could inhale that and enjoy it, but everyone is different; including, or so it seemed, my tormentress. One of the big mysteries surrounding the appalling (or, to my eyes, appealing) state of her teeth; it all added up, combined with the addiction to coffee, that had led her grin to become the colour of solid sulphur. Be that as it may, the small revelation did not change the fact that I was about to be subjected to a giant death-stick being pushed into my giant captors jaws, and having to deal with the horrible fumes that were to come from within. As she lit the fateful cigarette, rolling down the window as she did so as per the driver's wishes, I watched her lips and jaws open to receive her hit. Curling up in my position leaning against her teeth in the pit of her mouth, I drew in a breath of the fresh-ish air leaking through, and held it as the huge, cylindrical object entered the gates of my prison.
The revolting end of the cigarette was clamped between her jaws, sealing me back inside her mouth with it. Immediately, I felt the backward pressure of her sucking, and a cloud of smoke began seeping out of the end, through her maw and into her throat. It rushed past me like a searing wind, the heat dry and stinging. While I had sealed off my own respiratory system to the cloud, and was battling my own lack of breath to keep it out, I had neglected to close my eyes, and the searing hot smoke, laden with god knows how many chemicals, made my eyes sting fiercely and I reflexively screwed them up tight. Only when the suction finally stopped did I open them again, my vision blurry with tears, and let out my breath, succumbing to my lungs burning from lack of life-giving oxygen. My next breath in had to be quick, as I could hear the smoke cloud rushing back up her windpipe. In a split second, I inhaled again, the residual smoke searing my lungs and producing an awful taste in my mouth, as the same cloud came rushing back out of her mouth, exiting her puckered lips (now free of cigarette) in a plume of smoke. I had to try my hardest not to break out coughing and thus breathe in the toxic cloud, despite my lungs burning and the revolting taste on my own miniscule tongue. The whole demeaning and painful experience was over in but a few seconds, as Jo took her first drag and relaxed. When the last trails of smoke had finally exited her jaws, I let out my own breath, coughing and hacking.
The result of her first drag had left the air noticeably drier, and still containing vestiges of the myriad substances that had travelled off the cigarette. Any stench of fish or otherwise in her maw was replaced by the vile reek of cigarette smoke, and I continued to borderline choke on it as I drew in breaths of unclean, recycled air; anything was better than the smoke cloud, even if it contained some of the awful chemicals from it. Like usual, Jo had in one mundane action cost me a lot of energy and left me reeling; and she was only just getting started.
"Ahhh. Nothing like a good smoke before you go out on the town," she sighed contentedly to the driver, who nodded in agreement. "Really relaxes me, gets me in the mood to go into the club and get pumped. Gonna need more than one drag, though...."
If anything, I was at least glad I got advance warning of the cigarette's return.
The next drag was just as bad as the first, though mercifully this time I remembered to close my eyes as well as the searing cloud passed. Quickly exchanging fairish air for foul once more, I again fought the terrible pain in my lungs long enough for it to pass back, before breaking out into another fit of coughing and wheezing, so much that I felt my stomach turn and feared not for the first time that I would double over and throw up. Jo had made the air quality in her maw even lower than its general thick and stuffy atmosphere, and my lungs were paying the price for it, Already they were aching, a dull sting present from being forced to inhale the vestiges of Jo's second hand smoke. The worst thing was, I knew Jo could hear my every cough and wheeze in my prison, and she was most likely loving every minute of it; I could just picture the smug smirk on her face as she eyed the cigarette in her hand. Strangely, the driver didn't comment on any noises I made, so I insinuated that perhaps he couldn't hear me; peculiar, since Jo could supposedly hear me just fine, despite my height. However, I didn't have time to ruminate on it further.
The third drag caught me completely off guard.
As fast as I could scrunch up my eyes and take in a breath, it wasn't enough. The seeping smoke cloud entered my mouth and into my lungs, breaking the breath I was holding and making me break into a fit of violent coughing and hacking in a desperate effort to expel the foul gas. Of course, breathing back in again just brought on more coughing, which left me completely unprepared for the smoke to come back through her maw again. My chest was now in searing pain, as was my throat from coughing violently, and my eyes were in floods of tears from both the smoke and the coughing fit I was going through. Every breath I took in seemed to be like a new river of fire coursing down my throat, and the overpowering odour around me only pervaded my senses more and caused me more discomfort. Eventually, mercifully, I was able to stop my respiratory fit, and immediately flopped down on the slimy floor under her tongue, exhausted and in pain. If ever there were a watershed moment where I closed out doing smoking completely and utterly, this was it; in just three drags, my cruel co-worker had virtually incapacitated me. I thanked every god there was when the engine purred to a stop, and Jo asked for the driver's ashtray before she paid him, disposing of the awful implement for good before she paid him his due. As he drove off again, a snort of derision rumbled through the cavern, and I knew I was in for an insulting, the cherry on the cake.
"Jesus Christ, you really can't take your smoke, can you?" my captor commented, laughing at me in the process. "I'll tell you what, you're lucky your little girly coughing fit didn't attract the attention of the driver, or you'd be meeting my sushi right about now."
At that moment, I genuinely wondered whether her stomach was the favourable option to more smoke.
"Man up, speck. We're out on the town now, and that means its party time." She took me with her tongue and unceremoniously threw me up in the air, before setting me back down again where I was. "I'm gonna get my dance on and my drink on, so you'd better behave yourself in there if you want to live past this night. I'm not responsible for you if you happen to die horribly in there, but I'd rather you didn't. As delicious as you are and as fun as you are to play with, I'd rather not have to carry around a corpse in my mouth. Okay?"
I gritted my teeth, wiped the last of the tears from my eyes, and tried to let the determined side of me do the thinking again. After what I'd just been through, what Jo was about to put me through couldn't be much worse. The environment, though awful at present, was bound to change, and when it did it would be an awful which would arguably be more preferable. Anything was preferable to the horrible, artificial stench of cigarette smoke.
Though I was in the gloom with no-one else to see, I nodded.
"Bring it on."