Waking up is never a nice experience, in my opinion. Being dragged from the bliss of slumber back into the world usually leaves one bleary-eyed and groggy, taking some time to fully adjust to being awake again. How bad it is depends on a range of factors; how much sleep you got, the quality of your bedding, and the manner of being woken up, to name but a few. Arguably, both me and Jo had a particularly bad experience waking up that morning, after the raucous night before; though I still claim my experience was worse. After all, being woken up by the semi-conscious moaning of the girl whose mouth you're staying in tends not to let one wake up slowly.

"Uuuuunnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhh........"

The low, almost creepy groan reverberated through the thick air, waking me with a start. With eyes resisting the heaviness of their respective eyelids, I looked around my 'accommodation' and saw the grey light of early morning leaking in through Jo's slackened jaws. At some point in the night, she must have rolled over in her sleep, because I now found myself on the slippery surface of her cheek, which had most definitely been a wall when I drifted off. This change in position had also affected other things; like the river of foul-smelling drool that I found my lower torso in the warm, gooey embrace of. Pulling myself out of the trail in disgust, I followed its path down the dip of her cheek and out of her lips, where it had undoubtedly collected on her pillow to form a slimy wet patch that would reek for days afterwards. It wasn't the first time Jo had literally drooled on me, and I was of course familiar with the slime of her saliva by this stage, but something about her unconscious hangover spit that made me shiver a little, even though it was as warm as everything else in her fetid maw. Trying to ignore the fresh coating of oral juices coating me, I jumped a little as the primal rumble of her snoring dominated the cavern.

It is worth a moment at this stage to describe, at the very end of my long imprisonment within the living cavern, how utterly filthy and disgusting Jo's mouth was in that final morning of my time behind her lips. I had experienced and described the state of the gigantic woman's decaying oral state throughout the day; from the milk-laden cesspool of her maw upon my entry to it, to the cleanliness after she had put me through her dental hygiene process, to the various stages of decay into first staleness and then dirtiness as the day wore into the night. That morning, however, my co-worker, through events already told, had not done anything to freshen up her mouth since my encounter with her gum the previous afternoon at least, and more realistically since she had brushed her teeth almost twenty-four hours beforehand. As such, one can only begin to imagine the horrors of how truly disgusting it was to be inside the bacteria-laden, slimy, and utterly putrid cesspit that had been allowed to fester behind her seemingly innocent lips; worse even than when I first entered it the previous morning.

Jo's teeth, for one, were of course as infamously brownish-yellow as they always were, made only worse by the act of not brushing them clean in so long a time. In that time, the festering clumps of plaque which I had already made contact with the last time Jo slept had almost entirely occupied the gaps in between her teeth, in a beige, gummy wall that also lay in a translucent sheen across much of the walls and surface of her blemished jaws. In the middle of her mouth, and thanks to her sleeping position high above me, her tongue was still coated in not just the slimy white film of bacteria, but the revolting brown colouring from the residue of her vomit, which had mingled with said film to produce the awful-looking staining. For some reason, all I could imagine was Jo dragging me along that horrible, rough yet slimy surface with her finger, using me as a makeshift tongue scrubber; the thought made me shudder and my stomach heave, and made me somewhat glad that I might at least be spared that torture now my imprisonment was almost over. Even her saliva, which still looked like the white, bubbly goo it usually had been in my stay, reeked of all the horrible stenches of things Jo had consumed and then regurgitated yesterday evening, making the fact that my lower half was thoroughly slimed afresh all the more sickening. It still, of course covered everything in the fleshy chamber, collecting in the sluggish stream I had awoken in and forming eerie-looking slivery strands connecting between various areas of her mouth. All of this was the most repulsive condition I had found Jo's maw to be in ever since my entry; indeed, it may have been the most vile and unsanitary place I had ever been in up to that point. But the worst part, the facet of this godforsaken hole that I had obsessed over most and would disgust me the most, was yet to come.

When, all those hours ago on the breakfast top, Jo had opened her mouth wide and delivered that colossal, roaring belch onto me, I imagined that that was the worst, most awful-smelling thing that had ever past my nostrils. To an extent, I wasn't wrong; up until that point, it most certainly was. What I encountered that morning, however, from the depths of the hungover colossus's powerful lungs, would make that seem like the smell of roses.

The first warning I had of my impending doom was the great suction of air the half-asleep giantess began to pull into her lungs. Her jaws opened wider than I had ever seen them; it must have been a spectacular sight had anyone been my size on the outside of her jaws. From my perspective her maw opened so wide it could fit the Arc de Triomphe inside of them easily, and devour several thousand people of my stature without issue. Air flooded in from outside and down into her throat, hundreds of thousands of gallons of fresh-ish air from the outside world disappearing down her throat. As suddenly it stopped, in that one-second pause where all was silent, I knew what was coming; I'd experienced if before, of course, not ten minutes after first entering her cruel and unforgiving jaws. There was nothing to do but steel myself and wait for the inevitable onslaught.

Then, the lungs released their great quantities of air, and the true hell started.

Jo's breath, created by twenty-four hours of not brushing, defied all describing words. It was like the stink of her regular morning breath but multiple times worse. Of course, the general stink of her morning breath, an amplified version of the rotting, fermenting stench I had been subjected to when she first opened her jaws in front of me, made its grand return, ripping through her maw and assailing my minute nostrils. Mingled in with it were all manner of terrible stinks and odours, all of which mirrored something that had been through her mouth some time before. It was almost as if the utterly stomach-churning reek of her breath was giving me a whistle-stop tour of all I had been through in those last few chaotic hours. The overpoweringly sour, almost chemical stink of vomit, stale from the remnants of it still coating various areas of her mouth, was most prevalent; but in there also I could smell the bitter, septic scent of spirits, the unbreathable stench of cigarette smoke, and even a hint of the once overpowering odour of fish from the sushi rolls that had inadvertently saved my life down in Jo's stomach, and were now probably a unrecognisable mush somewhere deep within her intestines. The obnoxious amalgam of stenches, all mixing together in this one drawn out moaning yawn, was almost too much to bear. My eyes watered and I doubled over and gagged as it continued, almost beginning to feel faint and light-headed as the terrible gale continued, the stench only amplified ever further by the oppressive heat and sweltering humidity I was well acquainted with, and accompanied by an ear-splitting moan that drew out over the entire time. When it finally, mercifully ended, the lips closed once again, smacking in what could have easily been either contentment or merely groggy half-sleep, and I was left to recuperate in the gloom, tumbling back down to the floor of her mouth as the hungover titaness sat up in bed.

"Uuuunnhhh... the fuck happened last night..."

I wasn't entirely sure whether she was talking to me; assuming she had forgotten what happened last night and assumed I was still in her maw; or just groaning into the aether, but I assumed the latter. Clearly, Jo was as hungover as I figured she would be; her continuation into complaints and gasps of pain concerning the headache she apparently had attested to that; but at least she was awake. Which meant my time in the stinking, garbage pit of her mouth was almost over. Disappointment clashed with relief, but one thought overrode both. It was time to try and get Jo's attention.

I had to first take some time to recover; I justified it to myself as giving myself time to come up with a plan. Clearly, Jo was too out of it to hear coherently my little voice; much as I knew she could hear me through whatever magical powers she had, I was fairly certain my voice didn't register as being as loud as a human voice. Hence, I would have to think up another way of getting her attention. The most obvious way seemed to be to start jumping around and making as much of a presence as possible in her maw; jumping around, hitting things, the whole lot. However, the voice of fear in my head told me that method was balanced scarily on a 50/50 knife edge. If she did happen to notice the thing causing her mouth irritation, she could easily spit it out to find out what it was; there was, of course, also the chance that she'd just swallow me, and then I'd really be fucked. I didn't feel like trying to cheat death again was a particularly good idea, especially after all the times I had cheated it already. Eventually, I decided my best bet was to make myself as innocuous as possible until she next opened her maw, and then I'd quickly scrabble out of her lips and get her attention from there. It seemed to be the safest option in terms of not being swallowed, and I figured I could probably reach her eyes or her ears quite quickly from her lips to get her attention. It was no master plan, but that said none of my plans were; it was the best plan I had.

Meanwhile, Jo spent the time sitting in bed moaning for at least a few minutes, before finally I felt my prison jostle slightly as she got out of bed and stood up, walking somewhere. I had begun to edge my way down her gumline to her lower lip, in order to make my great escape, but consistent groaning and the occasional gut-wrenchingly foul yawn made progress somewhat slower. Jo's own monologue, while at first somewhat amusing, eventually became irritating;

"Uugghhhh, I feel like shit.."

"My head, my throat, my stomach... ugh, everything hurts..."

"Did I throw up last night...? Ugh, no wonder there's such a shit taste in my mouth..."

"Did I kiss Melissa last night...? Fucking hell..."

"I need coffee...."

I had to wonder why she was moaning out loud to herself about her ailments- knowing Jo, it could have been equally either self-pity or the first sign of insanity setting in- but it what interested me more was what she didn't say, namely that she made no mention of me, her little prisoner, who she had spent so much time torturing yesterday. I wouldn't have put it past her to have such callous disregard for the people like me she had tortured that she'd forget about them, but I was curious whether she had truly forgotten me, or it was simply hangover blindness. Whatever the situation, there was one thing we could agree on; her mouth was indeed filthy. To have her admit that herself was testament to that.

For minutes I waited in the very front of her maw, breathing in the thick, putrid air, waiting for the chance that never came. However, listening intently to the muffled sounds outside her maw; the boiling of a kettle, the rustling of packets, flowing liquid; I felt a chance brewing. It was dangerous, certainly, but after all I had been through in Jo's mouth, I was willing to take the risk to make my final escape. The final gamble, as it were, was upon me.

It wasn't long before the chance came. As the great jaws opened for what I hoped was the final time during my imprisonment, I scrabbled up the slimy wall and peeked over the rim of her lips to see a massive spoon, laden with something or other; cereal, knowing the creature of habit my co-worker had proven to be- sailing towards her hungrily awaiting maw. Looking back for an instant, I took one last view of my prison from within; the slimy walls, the filthy tongue, the stained teeth; before I climbed over onto her lip, and made a break for it. As the great lips closed to take in the forsaken cereal and milk, however, I lost my footing, in a cruel twist of fate that seemed to come into effect just as I left the hell of being inside Jo's digestive system. Stumbling, I suddenly found the red lips had become open air, and I felt myself free falling. All around me was a blur as I fell further down, cursing this final awful trick after all I had been through. For the third time in my chaotic tale, I felt my life flashing before my eyes, and waited for the end to come in a sickening crunch.

So, when the splash came instead, one can imagine I was most surprised.

Finding myself suddenly immersed in something cold, I instinctively kicked towards the surface, breaking it with a breath of air.

Fresh air.

I had gotten out, after so long in that awful, dangerous prison. I was free. Yet, in a cruel and somewhat hilarious irony, I had escaped the frying pan only to fall right into the fire.

I had finally escaped Jo's mouth. But I had traded it for being trapped in her cereal bowl.