Dinella smiled and put out her tongue at him, and made a gesture with her finger and thumb, beside it. He realised that she was inviting him to consider the scale of it in comparison to himself. He estimated that he was now not a lot taller than what he could see of the length of her tongue. Dinella fetched a stool and sat on it in front of the oven, so that she could keep an eye on the last stage of his reduction. He looked out in bewilderment, still wishing that she might have given him a cuddle instead of eating him. Dinella eagerly awaited her meal, enjoying the diminishing sight of her captive as he sat cooking in her oven.
Hansel fully understood the danger that he was in. He knew that he would never return from Dinella’s stomach. Yet, along with this realisation came a strange anticipation. Hansel was too young to understand why the sight of Dinella’s tongue and the thought of her intentions excited him. Soon he would be between those lovely round cheeks, inside her mouth, on her tongue, and on his way to a plump stomach which somehow captivated him. He was both keen to escape and slightly thrilled about what lay in store.
“It’s amazing!” he thought, “Soon I’m going to be eaten!”
Then he heard the oven alarm go off, and saw her reach for the key again, and unlock and open the door.
“You heard the alarm,” she said, “You’re small enough now. Just look at you! I think you’re going to be the tastiest little boy I’ve ever eaten.”
Her hand reached in towards him, and he admired the smile on her face. Her fingers felt strangely pleasant as they closed about his now tiny form. Dinella stood up and walked over to the tray, and placed him onto the plate. Hansel looked up at her neck, which was clearly in view from this angle. It was wide and soft and pink. He imagined what it would be like, when he was inside that neck, when it became his way down inside her stomach. It would not be long now, and he would find out. He felt movement, as she lifted the tray and carried everything to her table. Dinella sat down, and once again, he saw her tongue orbiting around the aperture of her mouth, signalling the pleasure she was deriving from the prospect of eating him up soon.
“Do you think I’m overweight?” she asked.
“What does overweight mean?” asked Hansel.
“Do you think I look too fat?”
“No. I think being fat looks good,” said Hansel.
“Well aren’t you a polite little meal?” she said, “I think I might nickname you Girthfood. I hoped you liked my gingerbread, Hansel. It’s time for you to feed me in return now.”
As he looked on in wonder, Hansel again felt her fingers lifting him up off the plate, as he saw himself rising into the air, above her neck and level with her mouth.