You hadn’t been in town long, so you weren’t too familiar with the area, yet. But you had downloaded a dating app and were ready to start mingling - it was a bit of a college town, near the beach and dancing with a feeling of eternal summer.

The girl you had matched with - Sloane, was her name - seemed really laid back, kind of a go-with-the-flow kind of girl. She had just asked you to meet her at a hot dog stand by the beach, and you of course, had agreed. If only you had known just how differently your evening was about to go - but of course, you had no idea. Wanting to make a good impression, you shot off a text - you’d buy both the hotdogs and meet her at the shore. Feeling like quite the gentleman, you took the two paper trays of dogs over to a bench facing the sand, setting them on the slats.

Looking around the area, you start to feel a little… woozy. You lean against a nearby bench, trying to shake the strange feeling of spinning from your head - only to find that the bench seemed to be much bigger than before. And it was growing - faster and faster! Before you could figure out what on earth was going on, you stumbled forward, dropping in size as you started to  fall - directly towards the pair of hot dogs! By the time you make contact, you were somewhere around an inch tall, landing in a patch of ketchup that stains your clothes and musses up your hair. The heat of the hot dog rises up around you, the smell of the condiments surrounding you - but that was nothing compared to the next sensation you feel.

The slats of the bench rattle underneath you, the chopped onions on the hotdog jumping up and down, the world seeming to shake all around you - and then, it clicks. Footsteps. You were feeling someone simply walking. You turn your eyes to the sky, and there, you find your date - much, much taller than she said in her profile.

Sloane looks around, her hair catching the setting sun and throwing her tan face into relief. She had clearly come from a day on the beach - her hair was still a little slick with saltwater that had dried, her tan and toned form in a cropped swim top over which she wore a casual beach-print shirt with the buttons open, revealing more sun-kissed skin. She towered over you like a mountain range, clearly looking for someone - her eyes falling on the hot dogs on the bench.

“Oh, far out! He got the dogs after all. Must be in the bathroom, or something.” She says, talking to herself as she reaches down for the paper tray. Her shadow falls over you and blocks out the sun, the scent of sea-spray and vanilla rolling over you as the world quakes again. She picks it up, and you are knocked about in a mess of condiments as she sits down on the bench.

The world seems to grow still, like the calm before a storm, as the giant surfer chick settles into the bench, the hotdog on her lap. You could hear her stomach groan behind you like some massive beast- she must have been hungry - and she had just decided not to wait for you to come back from the bathroom. Her hand blocks out the sun, casting a looming shadow over your shrunken form. Your jaw drops as you try to make sense of the sheer scale of her, as her fingers wrap around the bun and start to lift it up. You cling to the slippery surface of the hotdog as it rises up, your heart racing.

“Sloane! Hey! I’m down here!” You shout as loud as you possibly can, but the surfer chick wasn’t listening. You were just another condiment on her hot dog. You can only watch as your perch is lifted up to her face, her huge lips looming and slowly opening - strands of saliva stretching from the top lip to the bottom before breaking into a spray of tiny droplets, some of them landing around you as you jump up and down, waving your arms on the hotdog.

But it was no use - the sun is slowly sinking on the horizon as the top of her mouth soars over you, blocking out the light as she prepares to chow down on. You can feel the hot, humid air rush from the depths of her mouth as she exhales over you - the heat of her mouth all around you as the light slowly starts to dim. Past your shaky perch on the hotdog, her lips close around the bun as her teeth sink in - trapping you in the dark, hot cavern of her mouth.

And then it all explodes into chaos. She starts to chew, and you are thrown from your foothold into the maelstrom of her saliva, the entire hot dog going to mushy, soggy pieces as she chews. You were tossed onto the huge, slick surface of the surfer chick’s tongue, the saliva instantly soaking your clothes. The bun was quickly soggy with it, and she flicked her tongue around to move it to her teeth - narrowly avoiding you as the shiny white boulders slammed down on the food as she chewed, almost making you into mincemeat.

She talks with her mouth open, giving you flashes of light that show the saliva-drenched mess inside her mouth, the view of the beach outside through the window formed by her lips strange and surreal.

“Brah… he better not have ghosted me.” She says, to nobody in particular. “That’d be so bogus!” She says, as you were unknowingly closer than she could ever have guessed, being thrown against the top of her mouth, knocking the wind out of you as you splutter, accidentally inhaling some of her saliva in the process of gasping for air, coughing violently as the echoes of her chewing resonate all around you.

Another bite enters her mouth, and you have to struggle to avoid being chewed up as the hot dog is slowly worked into mush around you, the sounds of Sloane’s chewing and the wet squelching of her mouth the only thing you can hear as she moves to swallow it. You sense it coming - you grip as tight as you can to her back molar, the surface slippery with saliva as the huge muscle of her tongue rears up to push the food down her throat. You dig your fingers in as best you can when -

G U L P 

Anyone looking on from the outside would have been able to see a sizeable lump travel down the surfer girl’s throat - and if you had been less lucky, you might have been in it. Sloane sighs, running a hand through her auburn hair as she looks around the empty beach.

“Dude, that blows! And I got something stuck in my teeth, too..” She says, her voice echoing around you. Of course, that thing stuck in her teeth was none other than you. Her tongue swishes around, slapping against your face as you struggle, winding up pressed in between two of her teeth. The tip of her tongue rolls against your upper body, pressing into it and nearly smothering you in the hot, wet muscle - slowly working you loose from your place between her teeth. You were noticed, at last! But not in the way you expected. Sloane spits you out into a napkin, luckily, instead of sending you down to join the rest of her hotdog. And then - her eyes grow wide as she looks at you.

“Whoaaah! A little dude! That’s radical!” She says, grinning wide and leaning in close. “What were you doing in my hot dog, little dude?” She says with a giggle, poking at your tiny form with one finger. She claps one hand over her mouth as she connects the dots. Oh, no way, brah ! You’re totally my date, aren’t you?” She says, pulling up her phone to compare your pictures as she squints at your saliva-coated form in her napkin. “That’s gnarly! You’re way shorter than your pictures, little dude!” She says, cracking herself up laughing at her own joke.

“Plus like, I don’t know how I’d date such a little dude, no offense! And, like, you were totes late; which is mega lame, yeah?” She says, with a teasing grin. She shakes the napkin you were on, jangling the dozen braided bracelets on her wrists as she does so, knocking you off and sending you falling towards her sandals, before you can even say anything in your defense!

You start to fall towards the earth, looking down to see a pair of Birk sandals that were clearly well-used. Her tan toes were dusted with sand and wiggling eagerly as you hit the space between her big and second toes with a soft pamf sound. She looks down - “Oh, sorry little dude - you’re like, hard to keep track of, my bad!” She shrugs. “But since you’re late and you are like … super itty-bitty, I’m gonna eat your hotdog too, brah!” She adds, lifting up your dog.

She starts chowing down on it as she slips her feet from the sandal in a spray of sand, her toes slightly sweaty from the sun as she curls them above you, raining down more salty sand on you, stuck between the huge indents formed by her big and second toes. She actually totally ignores you while she finishes her hotdog, playing with the straps of her sandals and slipping her foot in and out of the footwear as you protest as loud as you can.

“S-sloane, come on- mmPMH!” You are silenced quickly as the surfer chick lazily slides the sole of her foot over you, like a rolling pin flattening you out into the worn out insole, liking the feeling of your body under her sore feet. She was singing a song to herself, idly grinding you into the ball of her foot as the rough texture of the sand scratched up your skin and clothes, totally uncaring as she scarfed down the hotdog that you had bought!

The surface of Sloane’s sole looked soft from afar - but up close it had patches of rough skin from rubbing against a surfboard, and from wearing the same divot in her leather sandals for years and years. The scent of salt-spray and sweat and her natural odor seemed to overwhelm you as she playfully squished you down into the sweaty indent made by the ball of her foot. Then, you feel something that makes you even more concerned. That same feeling you felt before you reached the bench - a dizzy, spinning feeling. You were shrinking again! You call out for Sloane, but there’s no chance of her hearing you as you dwindle down, losing about half your size. This couldn’t be happening!

You can hear her humming to herself far above, but it was heavily muffled by the ball of her foot and the deafening sounds of leather on skin as she rolled you around under the sweaty ball of her foot - you actually start to suspect that she totally forgot that you were under there. You must have felt like nothing more than a particularly big grain of sand to her, after all - but surely there was no way she forgot something as insane as a shrunken person?

But it wasn’t like you were in any position to remind her, your struggles doing nothing more than scratching loose more sand for you to get rolled around in. You were totally overpowered by nothing more than some lazy beach bum’s sole!

You hear the sounds of Sloane crumpling up the paper tray and tossing it into a trash can, as she stretches her arms out and slides her sandals out across the sand. She yawns, kicking off her birks and burying her toes in the sand of the beach.

Then, she seems to squint down at her dirty sandals - finally seeming to remember you exist. “Haha, hey there little dude!” She says, giving you a wave, leaning down closer. “Gnarly! You look even more itty bitty than last time, brah!” She pinches her fingers together in front of her face. “What’s it like being such a little dude, dude?” She asks, but she doesn’t wait for your answer - she picks up her sandal and shakes you out into her palm, knocking loose a small avalanche of sand along with your tiny form.

“There you are, little guy! Like, I almost missed you in that sand, that’s wild!” She picks you up by your ankle and watches as you dangle, your shirt nearly falling over your head as she swings you around. “So like, what should we do next for our date, lil’ dude?” She asks - and you angrily snap back at her.

“What are you doing? Seriously, you have to get some help before I get any smaller!” You shout.

“Haha, whoaaah, I can’t really hear you that well little dude, but your tone sounds mega aggro! I think you gotta go with the flow, just relax!” She says, swinging you from side to side. “Mmkay, I have an idea for our next stop, ‘kay dude?” She says with a wink, her sun-kissed face grinning wide as she takes up your whole field of view. “And my trunks don’t have pockets, so I gotta stash ya somewhere-” She says, looking down to her chest.

“Ohh, radical! Dude, you’re gonna get like, second base on the first date!” She says, and pulls out her swim top a bit, showing off her perky cleavage. You flush red, but she just laughs, and then stuffs you down in between her breasts - warm, soft, and all around you as she pushes you deep between them.

The world grows muffled and quiet - what on earth was going to happen to you next?

To be continued…