Over the course of human history, many sects of civilisation, religious or otherwise, have come up with concepts of worlds or even dimensions apart from our own, where souls travel after the death of their bodies. One such world was where the sinners would go to be punished for their past lives; the common term, most associated with Christianity, was 'hell'. Typically, hell was (and is) pictured as a fiery wasteland, filled with demons, brimstone, and endless suffering. Presumably, the idea of such a forsaken place was something the theological thinkers of old considered as the worst place imaginable, the worst sentence a person could be condemned to.

The thinkers of old, clearly, had never had the experience of being an inch tall inside a human stomach.

If Jo's mouth was an otherworld, her stomach was even more so. Even through the gloom, as with her maw, I could see the disgusting, forsaken chamber around me; and chamber it was. From where I had landed, the ceiling (as it were) of the fleshy sack loomed high above me, the wrinkled sphincter I'd been forced through lazily flexing slightly, as if winking at me. A long 'hall' also expanded out lengthways in front of me, within which rested the lake of her festering stomach contents; contents which I knew could spell my doom should I become immersed in them.

In many ways, I was lucky, or as lucky as someone who had been swallowed alive by a drunk giantess could be. The air was still somewhat breathable, thanks to my gluttonous captor scarfing down her food and drink so fast that pockets of air were condemned to her belly with them. I was also lucky that the majority of the food Jo had eaten, which mostly comprised of the sushi rolls I had seen destroyed by her filthy jaws a few hours before, had accumulated in a mush pile in the corner of her stomach, directly underneath the sphincter which deposited it there. Had I fallen into a lake of fluids, my flesh would have probably melted from my bones in a matter of minutes; but there I sat, on a soft, mushy, and possibly unstable pile of digesting fish, seaweed and rice, thanking whatever deity there was out there that I had been shown this small biological mercy. All I could do in those first fateful moments of entering the much-feared organ was shed tears- of sorrow for the predicament I was now in and of joy for at least giving me the slimmest of chances of surviving; and look around in that all too familiar blend of fantasy fuelled awe and primal terror at my new surroundings.

In truth, words fail to accurately describe the sheer alien nature of the world around me. To describe Jo's stomach in all its terrifying glory is a task that takes far longer than the few moments I was given to take it all in following my entry. It is the understatement of the decade, perhaps even the century, to say that I was overwhelmed with all the new facets and parts of this new, living environment inside the girl who had kidnapped and tortured me, not to mention the emotional barrage that had assaulted me as well. Such feelings are almost too real, too powerful, to put into writing, and like a perception of abstract concepts like 'good' or 'evil' can be understood, but not defined.

What I can describe is the disgusting chamber itself. The walls were the same dull red, fleshy colour of the inside of her cheeks, and was made up of wavy ridges all across the sac that undulated and moved with every churn and change. The saliva coating everything in her mouth had nothing on these walls, which were coated in sticky mucous, as well as concentrations of acid and bile where the vile substances were secreted into the living chamber. Indeed, it seemed to have a life of its own; upon reaching out to touch the walls, I found it reacted to my tentative touch by sucking my hand into its fleshy folds, presumably in an attempt to digest it. Recoiling my hand in horror, I found it to be covered in the revolting goop- though admittedly, after my twelve hours essentially bathing in Jo's disgusting saliva, I was not as filled with disgust as I could have been.

The atmosphere was like Jo's mouth enhanced by several times. Being cut off as it was from the fresh air of the outside world by the long beginning of her digestive tract, the air was thicker than even I was used to, and the lack of oxygen in the air was palpable with each painful breath in. The sheer acidity of the alcohol and the stomach fluids even leaked into the 'air', meaning my every inhale seared my throat. As with her mouth, the stomach was exceptionally hot, with almost steam room levels of heat and humidity; perfect for the little enzymes which were working diligently to break down my mushy platform to do their work. It was enough to drench me in sweat, a new layer on top of all the other foul bodily fluids of Jo I had been and was being subjected to. And the smell! The various fluids in her stomach all amalgamated to form the overpowering stink of vomit, which of course mingled with the bitter alcoholic stench to make it all the more potent and the digesting fish, which gave it that same awful odour that had been on her breath only a few hours before. The belches I had been subjected to had only been a snapshot of the true horror of the stench down in her belly, and finally unable to stop myself from holding it in, I myself threw up, mixing my pitiful amount of upchuck with the lake of gunk that dominated her stomach.

And what a repulsive lake it was. What first caught my eye were the lumps of sushi mush, floating around in the mix and festering like patrons at some gross spa, slowly sinking beneath the surface in a mass of bubbles. The liquid itself was, thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol Jo had plied herself with, thinner than one might expect, though it was still thicker than water on account of the food breaking down within it. Almost constantly, more fluids were added to the mix, coming from all around the titaness's continental body. Of course, there was a fair amount of the slimy white saliva in the lake; all that spit that had disappeared down Jo's gullet was obviously going somewhere. There was also a fair amount of mucus in the mix, as the walls secreted the slimy goo to protect the organ from literally eating itself, and it slowly oozed into the deadly broth. Perhaps the most worrisome addition to the stew, understandably, was the corrosive hydrochloric acid, completely colourless, that dripped down from the folds of the roof of the chamber, as if they were from stalactites in a cave. All these mixed together to form the orange-brownish goop that was, essentially, Jo's vomit, a bubbling and volatile stew that made my heart beat at a mile a minute every time it happened to churn slightly more vigorously or break off another piece of my life-giving platform.

Jo's belly wasn't a still beast, either. It constantly churned and roiled, continuing as was its job to digest down the giantess's meals, including her unwilling little après-dinner snack. The walls seemingly lurched about, never still, as it sloshed about its contents in an almost lazy-seeming fashion. It was almost impossible to stand without stumbling, especially with the soft mush providing only slippery and weak purchase. This I learned to my horror when I slipped on my backside the first time, getting covered in the slimy muck and finding my tiny body actually sinking into it, as if I was trapped in quicksand. Scrabbling out of it, I managed to find somewhat safer ground, but I was too scared to move again, not unless I absolutely had to. One thing, fortunately, seemed to always be the rule of thumb; the larger lump of mush and digesting material always seemed to remain in the corner of Jo's stomach, meaning I was about as safe as I could be; which, considering the deadly and unforgiving nature of the organ I was in, was one of many factors that kept my new prison from becoming my tomb.

At a loss of what to do, and too scared to move even a muscle after my last attempt, I finally tried to get myself to calm down, listening to the sounds around me. The gurgles and groans of Jo's body were only more amplified now I was actually within her body itself, and formed an eerie chorus to the muffled club music blasting outside the walls of flesh. Accompanying this was the faint boom of her heart, pumping its blood all around the gargantuan body of my captor, and the regular sound of inhale and exhale from her powerful lungs, sounding for all the world like two giant balloons being inflated and deflated; which, in essence, they were. Clearly Jo was taking the time to recover from the 'little blockage' in her throat, and I was somewhat thankful for that, despite all my fear and panic; the logical side of me, still fighting the battle to keep me sane, told me that I needed the time to get accustomed to the new environment I was in, and thus approach surviving it with more of a level head.

It was hard to reach a state of calm, however, when the bubbling vat of stomach content suddenly seemed to become more volatile.

Rooted to the spot, I looked on as a huge bubble, presumably of air, rose up out of the lake and disappeared up through the sphincter. A few seconds later, a massive rumbling echoed through her body; it didn't take a rocket scientist to realise that the giantess had just let loose another belch. The lost air immediately took its effect on the atmosphere, and the air only became harder and harder to breathe, making me worry once again about my survival chances. There was no question about it; I had to get out if I wanted to live; but I had no idea how. Climbing back up her throat was impossible; my stint in her gullet had proved that; and besides, the sphincter was too far out of reach to pull myself through it. Attempting to leave through the other way- that is to say, the 'back exit'- was a certain one-way ticket to death also, and dying in the airless passages of Jo's deeper guts was not a prospect I relished in any way. I considered beating on the walls and trying to make her realise my presence, but the walls would just suck in my fists and probably wouldn't even be felt by the tipsy titan I was trying to escape. Besides, I knew Jo by this point; who was to say she would be willing to let me back out in the first place? She was very clear about what would happen should I end up swallowed, and almost seemed to relish in the prospect of eating me... it was most likely unwise to tell her I had failed.

I was out of options.

In the few minutes since I had entered Jo's stomach, I had run out of options on how to get out of it. It was hard not to plunge into crippling depression and break down crying again as I realised I was inevitably going to die down in her belly, after all I'd been through. I would survive for as long as I could, and hope for a miracle, but it seemed, after twelve hours of fighting for survival in that terrible mouth of the girl I worked with, that my story was to end in the depths of her colossal body. I had always feared death, and now it appeared to be on my doorstep. Grim determination to survive as long as possible, a last middle finger to Jo, to Melissa, to the whole situation, was partnered with the crushing reality of my situation.

Fucked, that was how I felt.

I was royally fucked.