“Why so much grief for me? No man will hurl me down to death against my fate. And fate? No one alive has ever escaped it. Neither brave man nor coward, I tell you. It’s born with us the day that we are born.”

-Homer, The Iliad

Vinnie

The place was quiet. A lonely bar on a lonely night in an unfamiliar city. I shook off the rain that had fallen from dark skies and drenched my jacket during my brief dash from the taxi cab to the restaurant. It was cold outside, rainy. Southern California was supposed to be warm and dry. Even Mother Nature was pissing on my luck.

I wasn’t sure what to expect in a place that licensed cannibalism, but whatever I’d anticipated, this wasn’t it. No people were hanging in chains from the ceilings, no unsightly monsters with a hundred face piercings waggled their tongues at one another with whips and meat grinders strewn about the floor. There was nothing like that at all. The place looked normal. Low lights, tasteful decorations, modern. It was actually not so much modern as it was futuristic, unlike the more old-world dining room lurking just one floor below.

The prevailing theme down there had been dark wood, bricks and candles. Kinda reminded me of the old country. But up here was a more clubbish atmosphere, the bygone era firmly in the rearview mirror, the future dominating the windshield.

Glowing lights and décor were tastefully done, with plenty of open space for dancing. Meanwhile sparce but prominently displayed artwork reminded the observer of the restaurants darker and more famous nature.

It was easy to see that the place was a vorphilia themed restaurant. The few pictures on the walls all featured women in the process of holding, standing over, or swallowing miniscule people. Music with a slow, hypnotic beat played quietly from unseen speakers. Meanwhile, three wide plasma TVs flickered over the bar. None of them displayed a ball game or played the news. Instead they each flickered through a long, continuous loop of incredibly gorgeous women. Some of them were dressed in expensive clothes, some wore nothing at all. The single, unifying factor was that they all handled, and ultimately ate miniaturized people.

There were even two brief but admittedly detailed clips from the inside of a woman’s stomach. It even showed the shrunken people contained within. Against all sense, they appeared to be loving every minute, acting like they were at a party. Odd to look happy as hell to be digested.

I stopped to watch one of the screens as the loop reached that part of the film. The television displayed two young attractive women and a young attractive guy inside what was clearly a human stomach. Foamy liquid sloshed about, enough that it almost appeared like a jacuzzi. The two women were making out with each other, egged on by the guy. I watched as he tried to get in on the action, attracting the attention of one of the girls. She leaned in to kiss him. The other girl leaned in too, but then gave him a shove, her face splitting into a mischievous laugh. The guy toppled into the foamy water only to pop back up a moment later. More good-natured splashing ensued, evolving into a sort of group make out/ dance party involving all three people.

At that moment, the clip flipped to the outside of a woman’s stomach, a beautiful woman of Asian descent, wearing tight fitting clothing and a shirt that left her midriff bare. She placed a hand to her flat stomach, then winked at the camera. The screen shifted, this time featuring a woman with short blonde hair. One hand held a swiftly spinning baton, the other carried a half filled martini glass. Within that glass swam a tiny man. At the woman’s obvious coaxing, he took a deep breath, then slipped underwater. With a tap of her batton, the woman lit the surface of the drink on fire, as if by magic. Then with a toss of her head, she drank the glass’s contents, knocking it all back in one go. The person within was carried along with the drink, disappearing into her mouth. There was a single gulp, emphasized by a close up of her throat as she swallowed.

Next on the screen came another woman, another shrunken man, another vore sequence.

I look away from the tv, approaching the bar. It was futuristic as well, a long light set into the surface of the bar making it glow. Moment by moment, it shifted color. First white, then cold blue, then green, purple, then red. It was changing back to white as I sat in an empty chair. Unsurprisingly, there were plenty to choose from. It was a weeknight after all.

“Well, hello,” came a bold, feminine voice. I looked up to see a face I recognized. The blue eyes and soft features of one of the woman from the film, the one with the martini glass and the bleached white hair in a pixie cut. Her hair was untidy, as though she had bedhead. Somehow it only made the woman appear even more stylish, like a vixen in an action movie.

Pale blue eyes boarded with dark eyeshadow fixed on me. Her face was youthful, beautiful. But those eyes. There was something in their touch that left chills, like hearing a whisper of supernatural. It would be like seeing something out of the corner of your field of vision in a lonely graveyard at night, only to turn towards it and find nothing.

“Welcome to the Forbidden Dish,” the barmaid intoned in a gentle hum. She didn’t seem the least bit worried that there was a reel playing above the bar showcasing her eating another human being alive. “How are you today?”

“Hey,” I replied uncertainly, shaking off the odd sensation of paranormal like I’d physically shaken off the rain a moment ago. Meeting her gaze had been a bit unnerving at first, but I soon regained my self-confidence. The world was a normal, sensible place. The bartender was normal, sensible person. Even if she did eat human beings. “I’m okay. Just got into town so a little jet lagged.”

“Well let’s see if we can fix it.” Those blue eyes were still fixed on me. They seemed like something mythical that spoke of occult secrets. But her voice was light, pleasant as peaches, sugared with an alluring Australian accent almost enough to warm my skin. “What can I get you? What’ll make your night a bit more bearable?”

Where to begin? I thought. The question dredged up all manner of unwelcome thoughts, mostly because of all the recent developments that had conspired to me it unbearable. Joey the Neck and Mickey Ice Cream were foremost amongst them. Oh yeah, and a death sentence from the Italian Mafia. Instead of confessing to the twenty-something about problems that she probably believed to only exist in movies, I asked. “Any good local beers? I’m thirsty enough to bite the neck off a bottle.”

The broad rattled off a list. Most of them ended in distressing phrases like, “triple IPA,” or “pale ale.” They smushed up against the back of every beer name like they were some kind of professional title.

“Jeez,” I winced, not bothering to hide my disgust. “What is it with the West Coast and putting too many hops into every damn beer?”

“An excellent question,” the skirt agreed in her cute little accent, moving her from ‘nine’ to a an extremely well rounded ‘ten’ on the hotness meter. “I only moved to California last year. The wine is excellent, but the beer leaves much to be desired. I can also offer a Pacifico or a Corona if you’re in the mood for something lighter.” Reading my grimace, she directed my attention towards a list of wines and bottled beers. My finger tapped against the words, “Newcastle Brown.” A moment later, a cold bottle slid across the bar and into my hand.

“’Nother quiet one, Oz,” said a deep voice from the entrance to the bar.

“Yeah, na,” the pixie bartender agreed with a smile. “Cuppa coffee?”

“ Yeah. ‘Preciate it,” the man replied. He was tall, about six foot three inches by my quick estimate. He also was light on his toes for someone with arms as thick as his. An LA Kings Hockey hat was perched on his noggin, its brim unbent and flat. He was obviously the restaurant’s hired muscle. I eyed a few of his tattoos. One in particular caught my eye. The muscle saw me studying him and gave me a friendly smile. Another difference between East and West Coast. Back in Jersey if another guy saw you staring at him, he would have glared, given you the finger, maybe called you out. I guess aside from liking IPAs, they were friendlier on the West Coast too.

“Hey buddy,” he said in a most genial tone.

I lifted my beer in greeting.

“First time?”

I nodded.

“Listen buddy. I was supposed to be at the door a minute ago, but I was in the bathroom and we only just opened. Think I could get a quick peek at your ID?” The man’s tone was apologetic, as if he were somehow at fault for needing the bathroom. Still his words came as a surprise.

“You want my ID? I look twenty-one to you?” The incredulity in my voice was more from my astonishment than any sort of anger. I hadn’t been carded for years.

The man shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. “I’m supposed to check everyone. Restaurant policy.”

Rather than argue, I fished out my walled and presented the card. He raised a brow upon studying it. “Jersey, huh? I should have guessed from your accent. You’re a ways from home, uh.” He rechecked the name on the licence. “Vincent. Just get into town?”

Not at all liking his inquisitive nature about my business, I responded with a question of my own. My finger pointed to a specific tattoo on his arm; a lightning bolt between a sun and a star. “You serve in the Ranger Regiment?” To his answering nod, I persisted with more questions, keeping the focus on him. “Which battalion?”

“The second. Yourself?”

I shook my head. This was one question I didn’t mind answering. “Wasn’t a Ranger. Was an Army grunt though. 69th New York.”

“Oh yeah?” the guy brightened. “The famous Irish Brigade?”

“That’s the one. Although there’s not a drop of Irish blood in me.”

“But it’s still an extremely prestigious infantry regiment, especially for a Guard Unit. Incredible history. Fought in Gettysburg, Marne. Where else? Let’s me think…” The guy wrinkled his young, creaseless brow, wheels visibly spinning as he mentally groped for more historical facts to rattle off to try and show how smart he was.

“Dunno ‘bout the others. I was only there for Baghdad,” I interjected before he could start discussing regimental history. My tone came out a more harshly than intended, which made me feel a bit guilty. The poor prick was just trying to be social. But it got the message across to the junior historian that the subject of Bagdad was definitely not open for discussion. The last thing I wanted to hear were all his stories about chewing dirt. Or to be reminded of my own experiences, best left behind.

Giving me an understanding look, my new buddy handed back the driver’s license. “Of course,” he replied gently.

Olivia arrived to save the day, brandishing a fresh beer with a questioning expression. I nodded my thanks.

“Never been to New York or New Jersey. I suppose New York City is a place everyone hears about,” she placed the fresh beer before me, light fingers whisking away the empty predecessor. “Maybe someday I’ll go. Are you just here to visit or will you be staying?”

“Well, I’m here to stay I suppose. In a way.”

Olivia gave me a flirty grin. “Of course. You came to the Forbidden Dish for a reason, didn’t you?”

“S’right.”

We sat in silence for a while. The hired muscle and I nodded farewells to each other before he wandered back to the door, leaving me and the saucy barmaid largely alone. There were only a few other customers at a nearby table, and only one other bartender. She was on the far side of the room playing on her phone.

Olivia put her elbows on the far side of the bar smiled quietly, as if expecting me to speak. I didn’t have much to say. But given that this was probably the last person I would ever speak to, it seemed worth the effort to try.

“I um. Saw your video.”

A stupid thing to say. What was I? A lovesick teenager whose balls hadn’t descended? The quizzical expression on the broad’s face turned to understanding when I clarified my idiotic statement by pointing to the enormous tv screen. Its reel of vore flashed passed.

“Oh, yeah. It seemed to come out well. Did you like it?”

“The trick with the wand was cool. With the fire.” I swung my beer bottle back and forth, subtly mimicking how she had used the wand in the film. “Where you lit the drink on fire with a tap of your wand.”

Her blue eyes twinkled. “Fond of magic?” She asked with genuine enthusiasm.

“I suppose so,” I shrugged. “Never really thought about it much. Why? Know any magic tricks?”

Cordelia held my gaze, then raised an empty hand. Then she turned it and suddenly it wasn’t empty any longer. Clutched between her fingers was the brim of a top hat.

“Whoa. Cool. A magicians hat. How did you…?”

Any question that had begun to form on my lips was destined to die a premature death. Words failed me as Olivia turned the hat so I could view it sideways. Only now it was no longer a hat. When she’d turned it, it had thinned out more and more. And then as if by magic, it had become a baton.

“Can I see that thing?” I asked, wanting to get to the bottom of the trick.

With a twirl, the baton was placed on the bar before me. I inspected it, even tapped it a few times against the corner of the bar. It appeared to be an ordinary magician’s wand, one that you could buy in a toy shop. How had it been a top hat a moment ago?

I set it down before me, then raised my eyes to Olivia.

“How did you turn that hat into a wand?”

“What wand?” Olivia asked, raising an eyebrow and looking around with mock confusion.

“This wa- hey!”

I had dropped my eyes to the table before me, but the wand was gone. Olivia was a pace away from the bar. There was no way she could have grabbed it without my seeing her. But when I looked back, there it was in her hand. She spun it casually, getting a charge from my bewilderment.

“How did you pick that up without me seeing?”

“Magic.” A smug but predictable answer.

“You really are a magician,” I mumbled, awed by the impromptu performance.

Fast as Olivia’s tricks, the sparkle in her eyes was blown out in an instant, replaced by something harder. “I’m not a magician.” She took a step forward, leaning close as if to impart some deep secret, she pressed her lips to my ears. With slow, carefully controlled words, she spoke what was clearly a meaningful self-identification. “I’m a witch.”

“Same difference,” I replied. Based on how the woman’s form stiffened, she felt differently. Another twirl of the baton and it vanished. As if by actual magic. I knew better than to ask how she’d done it.

The woman heaved a sigh, visibly trying to calm herself down. As was my typical habit with people, I’d wasted no time in getting under her skin. She was trying to keep cool and maintain her service industry smile. “Didn't quite catch your name,” she said, though her tone was a bit colder than before.

“Vin.”

“Just Vin?”

“Short for Vinnie.”

She laughed. “Vin short for Vinnie. With your New York accent, it sounds like you need a title after your name. Like Vinnie Knuckles. Or Vinnie the Hammer. Just like the mafia movies or something.”

I made some fake noises that sounded like laughter, but my blood had gone cold. I stared carefully at this beautiful little self-proclaimed witch. Did the bitch know more than she let on? Was she a fucking scumbag Federal Agent? Or worse, was she working for the Family? If either one was the case then I needed to leave, and quickly. Was that dude bro of a bouncer really an undercover cop? Could he be an asshole agent for the FBI or DEA? Was he waiting on some signal to grab me?

The possibility had me worried. I mentally imagined going toe to toe with the former Army Ranger bouncer guy. The prick was just about as close to the physical incarnation of Captain America as it was possible to be. Meanwhile, there was me. I probably couldn't have taken him when I was younger and working out regularly. Yeah, I had been pretty tough once, but that had been years ago. Any serious physical training had been left by the wayside back in my forties. I had gotten out of shape since then, weaker. Lousy odds to begging with, and even worse when considered against a Captain America lookalike.

Wait a minute. Wait a goddamn minute. Things were fine. This was just paranoia. This cannibal restaurant was a continent away from New Jersey. The wise guys couldn’t know I had gone. Or at least not yet anyway. They would find out soon of course. And then they were sure to follow. It was only a matter of time until they tracked me down. It wouldn’t matter where I went to hide, what name I assumed. Maine, Texas, Oklahoma. Eventually they would find me.

Except for here. The Forbidden Dish was the one place that I could take control of my destiny. Here I could take my fate into my own hands. By the time they found me I would be…

My eyes slid over Olivia’s young, healthy, curves. The girl was sugar and spice and everything nice. Her natural beauty was all the more radiant in the prime of her life. Hell, she couldn’t any older than mid-twenties. There wasn’t a single wrinkle on that pretty face. And that body of hers… It beat a cold, watery grave in the bottom of the Hudson. I let my eyes trace supple breasts that stood out prominently on Olivia’s chest. And that exposed midriff of hers didn’t have a lick of extra fat on her belly. Young. Beautiful. And apparently a witch.

Seemed like as good a person to punch my ticket as any.

There were much worse ways to go. Much worse people wanting to kill me using much more painful methods. Most of them were back in New Jersey. Looking for me.

I smiled at her. “What’s the story of the three people making out in that stomach in that little movie up there?” The reel had just swung around to that part of the film.

Olivia looked up at the movie, then lowered her azure eyes to me. “Oh that. Yeah. They had three people swallowed at once, along with another fella who was there to do the filming. Cassie ate them all. She swallowed some antacids beforehand so they didn’t start to digest straight off. Made for a more appealing film than watching people begin to dissolve in acid.” She paused, as if having given something away. “That’s um. Well, I can take the antacid too if you want beforehand. If, you know. You decide you want to.”

I nodded, to show that it was alright. “Then they aren’t just actors in a studio. They’re actually people inside a stomach?”

“Exactly. They were actual people that agreed to be in a promo film. We shrunk them down and Cassie ate them one right after the next. I wasn’t there to watch that bit of filming, but she told me that between the antacid and all the people at once she got the hiccoughs. Shook them about a bit more than they’d planned for the filming. But the tape came out alright in the end.”

“And they just made out in that frothy stomach acid until she digested them?”

“Pretty much. The antacid neutralizes the acid already in your stomach. It also adds a bit more oxygen into the stomach to give the people inside a little more to breathe. The antacids are a special blend that we ordered from a pharmacy. The whole notion was actually something I designed as part of my doctoral studies. We don’t use them often, but for things like photoshoots when they’re filming in our stomachs, we take them. Of course, eventually your stomach makes more acid. And then nature takes it course.”

“What about the guy you ate on the screen? The one you swallowed in the drink?

“Oh yeah. That was fun. We did a whole bunch of takes just to get that one little ten second clip. It took a whole morning.”

“With the same little shrunken guy every time?”

Olivia shook her head. “We had to use three different shrinkies.”

“And all three of them you…?” I let the rest of the question go unspoken. Olivia was already nodding the answer. Pushing off the bar to stand straight, she made a show of rubbing her belly. “Felt great. I can’t imagine what it was like for them. All three in my stomach awash in the three martinis I’d had one right after the other. In a tragic twist of fate, I’d only had a light lunch that day. Bleh.” She shook her head. “Waaaay too much. Left a terrible headache later.”

“Three naked guys in your stomach when it’s filled with alcohol. I mean if I had to be with two other naked guys in a confined space, I would want to be drowning in alcohol.”

“I suppose,” she replied in a pensive tone. In a more sultry voice she continued, cocking her hip to one side. “But they were inside me. Surely that’s not so bad?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You are pretty gorgeous.”

The woman smiled at the compliment. It was a fake smile. I’d been around enough to know the difference between showmanship and the genuine article. But that was okay. She was at work and I was only a scarred old dog of a customer in a joint that prized physical appearance.

“Have you eaten anyone today?” I asked. I was still working up to the idea of actually being eaten.

“Not yet,” Olivia perked up, brightly staring at me. “It’s all empty and ready for you. If, you know. You were interested. I was kind of hoping you would be.”

“Seems about the best way to go that I can imagine,” I confessed truthfully.

Olivia blinked, clearly troubled by the comment. She looked at me more closely, less like a cat eying a mouse and more like a concerned teacher eying a troubled pupil. “Are you sure this is what you want? You sounded almost reluctant for a second there.”

I shook my head. “I’m not reluctant. Been giving this a lot of thought. I’m sure. It’s how I want to go.”

“Because we have a legal waiver to sign. It’s pretty lengthy but the basic premise is that after we shrink you, you don’t get to opt out. No changing your mind.”

“No changing my mind,” I repeated to show that I understood. “Get the form.”

The form was indeed lengthy. Olivia left a blue pen and thick stack of papers, tabbed out on where to initial and where to sign. I began the paperwork while she bought me another bottle of beer, bless her.

Once finished, Olivia circled the bar. She slid an arm around my waste and guided me towards the back of the room. “Come on my handsome fellow. Let’s get you shrunk down and then I’ll be all yours.” Her words were rich as red wine. My heart sped up at her touch. It was gentle, barely there but enough to give me chills. And there I was feeling like a teenager in puppy love again. What the hell was wrong with me?

The girl was so captivating that I didn’t even remember our walk to the back room. Before I knew it, we were standing in front of the shrink booth. It looked almost like a phone booth, not much more than a few square feet of floor space.

“Okay. You’re sure? You one hundred precent want to go through with being eaten?” The beautiful girl, half my age and cute as a button, even cuter because of her Aussie articulation, stared at me, genuine concern in her young face. Her apprehension on my behalf was endearing. Holy hell was she ever gorgeous.

Better to die with you, making you happy than slowly tortured to death in a dirty basement in New Jersey, I thought with certainty.

“I’m sure,” I replied with finality etched in the words. “Something about taking control of your own destiny that’s appealing to me. And if I can do it while being a small part of your life, so much the better.”

“You’re trying to take control of your own destiny? Why, Vinnie? What’s waiting for you? Are you running from something?”

A sudden overcome urge to confess everything stole across me. Halfway to blurting out who I really was, I stopped myself. She didn’t need to know. Telling her might even put her in danger. So I held my tongue.

“I’m running,” I allowed. “But never mind what I am running away from in New Jersey. It’s not like I’m leaving a wife or kid behind. I don’t have either. What I’m escaping is a certain way of life. And the important thing is that it’s history. My future is with you, helping to continue your life, your journey.”

“Okay. If you’re certain,” she didn’t seem convinced, but in a moment her outward energy changed. Gone was the cautious, concerned girl, vanished into thin air like a magic trick. The person before me now was the beautiful confident witch, the entertainer.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” I added, taking off my jacket. “There’s something here in my inside jacket for you. Find it later. You know, afterwards. Consider it a way to remember me.” I had left the rest of my stolen loot in the collection box at St. Anne’s back in Hoboken, all while wondering if someone could buy their way into heaven.

“Well, I’m burning with curiosity to find out what it is,” she smirked. “Let’s get you shrunk down and we can have some fun. Oh, and you might want to take off all of your clothes, not just the jacket. You don’t have to of course, but it’ll make the shrinking process a lot more pleasant. Otherwise, once you shrink you’ll be buried in your own clothes and I’ll have to fish you out. There are pairs of the red undershorts if you want to put something on that will shrink with your size. You’ll find a pairs in all sizes in the cubby by the shrink booth.”

I did as she instructed, carefully folding my shirt and pants, laying them atop my shoes. It made me feel self-conscious. I wished I had taken a few fewer trips to Benny Tondino’s Pizzeria and a few more long runs along the waterfront. Ready to get this particular part of the experience over with, I hurried into the tiny shrink booth.

Olivia stepped forward, closing the door behind me and locking it. Pressing her lips against the glass in a kiss, she pulled away, winked at me, then retreated several steps away to a group of controls. It reminded me of the setup they had for the transporter on Star Trek.

“The shrinking process is not going to hurt, but you should be ready for a tingle,” Olivia told me. “That’s normal, Vinnie. Take a deep breath. You just need to get through this and then I’ll be right there to gently hold you in my hands immediately after. I can’t wait, Vin. Ready? Here we go.”

There was a sudden surge of power, energy all around me. A flash of brilliant light. A smell of ozone. And then…

Soft fingers curled around my body. Soft. Tender. Warm. I wanted them to stay wrapped around me forever. More than seeing it, I felt them me skyward. Then a soft voice reached my ears.

“You’re alright, Vinnie. I know you feel funny right now but you’re alright. You’re just an inch tall. It’s a bit disorienting but I’ve got you and I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re mine now Vin. I’m going to take good care of you.”

Olivia was whispering, though at my diminutive size I easily heard her. Perhaps she was whispering so as not to hurt my suddenly sensitive hearing. How considerate. The girl knew her business.

Still a bit disoriented, I was carried gently to a nearby private room. Inside, the walls and floor were a deep red. The ceiling was black. I was placed on a small black table. It felt more like a thin stand than anything else. As we entered music began to play. Funnily enough, I realized that I knew the song; ‘Confession’ by Richard Shindell.

And then Olivia began to dance.

I couldn’t say that the dance itself was overtly sexy. It was alluring to watch the beautiful woman dance, so in that respect it was of course, attractive. But the dance lacked anything of an overt vaudeville or exotic style. This was simply Olivia dancing, having fun. And as I watched I realized that wouldn’t have had it any other way.

This was far better than anything that might have been garishly suggestive. This was alluring, captivating, like she had slipped into the tempo of the music and wore it like a coat. Like she was savoring the rhythm of her young life, understanding that each moment would never come again and desperate to squeeze every drop of happiness from it that she could.

Then, just as I felt mesmerized by her dance, by her sheer enormous presence, Olivia began to use magic. She pulled a card from thin air. With a wink to me, the card burned up in green flames. With a shake of her hand, it was extinguished, the card gone, as though it had never existed at all.

The music swelled around us, almost a part of Olivia’s every movement. And then, in the blink of an eye, Olivia jumped position in the room. One moment she was standing before me. The next, she was on the far side of the room, apparently having never taken a step to get there.

“Don’t worry, Vin,” she cooed.

A blink later she was by my side. Against all sense, she was my size and standing on the table beside me. She looked so tenderly at me that I thought my heart would break. “I’ll take care of you.” She opens her arms to hug me. I reach for her. But she’s gone. Vanished.

Beneath my feet was warm skin, part of the body of a giantess. I was standing on a trim stomach. Turning to look towards Olivia face, I saw her looking down at me from between her breasts. “I’ll remember you,” she whispered.

A warm breath tickled me from the side and ruffled my hair. I turned to face it, and realized Olivia was back where she had began, standing right in front of me, licking her lips. I was back on the table. Her finger and thumb grabbed arms. And just like that I was hoisted into the air.

Swaying her hips in time with the music, she brought me to her mouth. Her full lips pursed, pressing against me in a brief, gentle kiss. Then they part, her tongue first tasting, then pulling my head and torso into her mouth.

This is it, I think. But instead of pulling me in further, she took me from her mouth, slowly dragging me down her neck, between her breasts, and across her flat belly. There she swayed slightly in time with the steady beat of the music, letting me appreciate how young and beautiful she was. “This is me, Vin,” she said, pressing me to her taught stomach. “Who I am. What my body is. And soon, Vin. We’ll be one,” She moved me up her torso, once more past those beautiful breasts. “Together forever. Your soul will move on. But your body will become one with me.” She dangled me before her face. “And in that way, we’ll always be connected.”

Her face seemed to soften. It was less than a smile, but something more than a neutral expression. There was a gentleness, a tenderness impossible to convey to someone who wasn’t present.

“You’re the real thing, aren’t you?” I asked. “Those weren’t holograms. You didn’t hypnotize me. You’re a witch. An actual witch.”

She smiled, brilliantly as if I couldn’t have said anything else to make her happier.

And then her mouth opened. She took her time, giving me a second to appreciate what was happening. Somewhere above and behind me was a light. Olivia had positioned herself so it illuminated her beautiful mouth, framed by her full feminine lips.

And in I went. A moment later I found myself lying on her outstretched tongue. It pulled me into the darkness of her open mouth, then caressed me like an eager lover reunited after parting long ago. It moved beneath me like a mattress come to life. Saliva began to well in her mouth, covering my naked body. Somehow, I had not been thinking about saliva when I imagined her swallowing me. I figured I’d be dry, clean. But I was covered in spittle soon enough.

The tongue continued to work me over, pressing, caressing. It was like a cross between a massage and a bath. And it was the best feeling in the world.

I distinctly felt the moment she chose to swallow me, sending a pulse of fear running through my nerves. I could have cried out, asked for her to wait, told her I didn’t mean it.

But I had meant it. I had wanted this; death at the hands of a beautiful young woman with her entire life ahead of her. And for me to become one with her. In a way, it felt like a fresh start, like the beginning of a new journey for me, joining Olivia for her life. Better this than some gruesome death tied to a chair in a basement in New Jersey, with a couple of wise guys grinning over the ways they were torturing me.

Yes, being eaten by a beautiful woman was an infinite time better. I would belong to this beautiful woman. As her tongue shifted beneath me, I relaxed my body. Hopefully it would make swallowing me easier. The tongue tensed, then rose, pressing me painfully tightly against the roof of the mouth. The tongue pulled me backwards.

Then-

***GLUK***

Down, down I went, pressed in on all sides. I was falling headfirst, propelled by a fever hot embrace of flesh from all around me. My pulse skyrocketed in panic and excitement. For a moment the headfirst fall bothered me, instincts kicking in to bring my arms above my head and protect it from an impact that might break my neck or split my skull. But then I remembered, I was inside Olivia. There was no concrete beneath me. There was a stomach.

Somehow that thought was a disturbing one. I was about to be unmade, then remade as part of her.

There was a sudden change in my surroundings, thicker muscles pressed against me, more powerful than my entire body. But they relaxed at my touch, holding me tightly, yet still forcefully and irresistibly expelling me into a hot, open chamber of darkness.

And then I fell and landed in a shallow pit, filled with water that reached my shins. And I knew. I was inside Olivia’s stomach.

Somehow, I had anticipated some sort of immediate death after being swallowed. But of course that wasn’t what happened. She didn’t chew me. Naturally I was now alive inside the girl’s stomach, much like the people in that little movie. And much like those same people, I would be digested. School had never been a priority growing up but I suddenly remembered enough to know that during the digestive process the stomach filled with acid. This could promise to be a painful death.

Outside the stomach, the music was still playing. To my surprise, I could even still hear the music inside here. It was still the same song to which Olivia had danced, finally reaching its crescendo before ending a moment later.

The world suddenly lurched sideways, the stomach gurgled, and I slid off my feet and splashed heading into the warm water once more. It was mucky, with large particulates suspended in it, a disgusting mix.

I waited for the earthquake to pass. It didn’t. It simply continued. Then I realized that this was no earthquake because I wasn’t lying on earth. The swift, sharp back and forth motion of the stomach, the steady, regular impacts; it meant that Olivia was walking. She was going somewhere. Now that she had eaten me, she would likely return to bartending. And I would be here in the darkness within her, being digested alive. Then my body would nourish the beautiful young woman which now surrounded me.

Better than being tortured to death, I reminded myself. Even now, inside the stomach of the woman who had just swallowed me whole, I still believed it to be true. Sitting down in the pool of water while waiting to be digested, I imagined Olivia around me. I tried to picture her face. She was such a beautiful young woman. My beautiful young women. Or now that I was inside her belly, was I hers?

Her voce came to me from somewhere, but I couldn’t tell you what she said. Occasionally I caught a word, but it was far to garbled to make sense of anything.

I simply let nature take its course, surrendering to her fully. This was a good way to go.

***

Olivia

I walked out of the back door of the Forbidden Dish. Outside, Phil leaned against the railing, a cigarette burning in on hand. As bouncers go, he was more intimidating than most. But then, Meghyn seemed to attract the best candidates. Of course, she can afford to pay them better than most.

“Bot a durry, Phil?” I asked by way of greeting.

Phil’s thick brows rose to just below the hairline where they held a trembling position.

“A cigarette. I want to borrow one,” I clarified to his mystified expression.

“Oh. Sure thing.” He fished a cigarette out of a pack and handed it over. I pressed it between my lips.

“Light?” He asked, pulling a lighter from a back pocket.

“Not to worry. Brought my own,” I replied, conjuring a card from thin air. It was a simple trick, a slight of hand that was easy to learn. But it never failed to impress. The face of the card had a flame emblazoned in the middle. I turned it so Phil could see, then faced it back towards me.

“You going to light your cigarette with a playing card?” he asked, amused.

“It’s a flame. I trapped the soul of a flame the card,” I replied offhand, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Leaning in, I pressed the tip of my cigarette against the card and took a long inhale, giving the cigarette a chance to catch until its tip began to burn. Making the card disappear with another flash of my hand, I exhaled a long breath of smoke and stuck my hands in the pockets of the new jacket I was wearing. The jacket Vinnie had left was a nice one, and I figured he wouldn’t mind if I used it from now on. It was something to remember him by.

The thick wad of hundred dollar bills stashed in the inside pocket of his jacket would be a nice way to remember him also. I smiled as I leaned against the railing beside Phil, smoking my cigerette.

“You’ll have to show me how to do that trick,” Phil requested, clearly impressed by the card trick and trying not to show it too much. He took a puff of his own cigarette. “How did you do it anyway?”

“Magic,” I replied honestly.

“Right. You’re a witch.”

“Too right, I am. Just ate someone an’ all.” I gave him my best, sexy grin.

“Still squirming?”

I shook my head. “Awfully quite in there. Don’t think he wanted to resist. He just sort of settled. Some do. It’s nice when they do. Maybe it’s peaceful.”

“Really? I thought you liked when they struggled.”

“Does feel good,” I admitted, caught out. “But this is also pleasant. It’s calm. Tranquil.” I looked up at the stars. “Like tonight. It’s stopped raining. You can even see the stars.”

And as I gazed at the first star of the evening, I made a wish that Vin found what he was looking for in the next life.

Epilog

The two men stepped up to the bar. Typically when people came to the Forbidden Dish they looked excited. It might be in the form of shyness, it might be exuberance, or even eager confidence, but there’s a genuine excitement to patrons who are about to live out their fantasies.

These two were not excited. And they were certainly not shy. Their eyes were hard as nails. One was smaller, heavier, and a bit stout. The other was tall and physically imposing, even tougher looking than Phil. He looked like he ate weights for breakfast.

The restaurant manager, a pretty woman named Lindsay, stood beside them. “Olivia, these gentlemen are Mr. Del Torro and Mr. Romano.” She indicated the smaller of the two men. “Mr. Del Torro is a lawyer who is trying to make sure that one of his clients is deceased.

“Hello Olivia,” said Del Torro. “I, uh, am told the kinda place this is. And I wanted to confirm that my client, a fella named Vinnie.” He paused, as if considering how to phrase the sentence. “That he um, went through with the process of being shrunk and eaten.” Del Torro began to describe the customer. It didn’t take long for me to remember.

“They’re asking because you were the one listed as the consumer on the logbooks,” Lindsay clarified. “Now you didn’t do anything wrong, Olivia. But Mr. Del Torro explained that he needs to confirm his client’s passing to be able to officially notarize some legal documents.”

Del Torro took a phone from his pocket. Angling the screen towards me, he scrolled through several photographs. “Do you remember this man?”

I nodded. “That’s Vinnie. From New York. Or, no wait. New Jersey. Didn’t learn much about him but he sat at that chair right over there. Had a few beers. Then I shrank him.”

Del Torro and Romano looked at each other, then back at me. “And you ate him after that, right?”

I nodded, not certain if this would make them angry.

“You’re absolutely sure it was him? He’s gone? No mistake?”

“Are you sure I’m not in some sort of trouble?” I asked carefully.

“No, no,” Del Torro put his phone away. “These are just boring legal issues. Nothing for you to worry about. But the family felt better *ahem* Vinnie’s family would rest easier if I confirmed with the person who ate him. You know, to make sure he was really gone.”

“Well, that’s him. He gone. And yeah. I ate him. This had to be over two weeks ago,” I finally acknowledged. I wondered if I should have told him about the money in his jacket. It had been an awful lot of money. But then I decided against it. Vinnie had given it to me after all.

“Three weeks ago, if this paperwork is accurate,” Del Torro replied. He looked to Lindsay who gave a nod of agreement. Turning back to me he added, “That’s all I needed. Appreciate your time. You have a nice day, Olivia.”

And then the two men walked out of the bar without a single backwards glance.

“Wonder what that was about,” Lindsay mused, watching the two men leave.

I shrugged, just as mystified. Vinnie had some secrets. Secrets that I would likely never learn. What had Vinnie been running from anyway?

Whatever the case, he seemed to have escaped. And he had done it by coming to me. Despite myself, I smiled with a fierce pride. Whatever Del Torro’s reason for tracking him, my delicious Vinnie had got away.

The End