Turning around and picking up the jar, she says, “actually, we’re never gonna top that.”

The two of you are dumped back into her hand. Her fingers still have the fishy, musty smell of her cunt. Her fluids glisten off her black and crimson fingernails. She brings the two of you up to her plump lips, smeared with red lipstick. Light dances off the fast food grease and sweat on her skin. She takes each of you, and holds you in separate hands. You are pinched between her left thumb and index finger.

Will is pinched in the same way, but in the fingers on her opposite hand. You try to maintain eye-contact with him. Hopefully, this simple gesture can reassure him. His gaze has always had that effect on you.

“MhhmMmm,” Megan says in a pondering tone.

The humid breath she expels, reeks of cheeseburgers with onions, and greasy French fries. You dry heave and your whole-body recoils. Megan brings the two of you up to her eyes.

Shaking your body and looking at you, she says, “shit head,” then, shaking Will’s body and looking at him, she says, “and Mr. Twink. Got it.”

You can see all the pores and details of Megan’s skin. Intricate patterns, that would be invisible to you at regular size. Her green eyes seem monstrous and cruel. There was a time when they held a warm, love for you. They zero-in on you, sending shivers down your spine.

“I was thinking you would make great toppings on my dessert. But, I don’t know? What if you fuck on my dessert? Doesn’t seem very hygienic,” Megan says, in a faux-concerned tone,  “but tinies make such great toppings…oh, I know,” she says in a way that indicates she already had this figured out, “I’ll eat one of you now and the other can join me for dessert.”

You and Will both scream, louder than then either of you thought was possible. Both of her hands lower, but only Will is closer to her mouth. You are kept a few inches away, which at your size, is a few body lengths away. Will reaches out to you, and you respond in kind. The incredible pressure of Megan’s fingers, restricts your movements. And even if you were free to move, you’re too far away to reach him.

You sob as you hear the SQUELCH of Will landing on Megan’s slimy tongue. He slips and slides, trying to escape.

“Oh, you’re a real squirmier,” Megan’s cruel, booming voice says.

Will is knocked around by the movements of Megan’s tongue as she talks. Each time you think he’ll make it to her lips, he faceplants in her saliva instead. His face disappears, as she closes her lips. GLUCK! You watch a bulge in Megan’s throat, you know to be the person you love, descend deeper into her massive body.

“Ahhhhh,” Megan says, opening her mouth and blasting you with the horrific air it produces.  

You are placed on top of the bookshelf and immediately collapse. Rocking back and forth, you sob as Megan gets dressed. She puts on the purple panties she tossed off and her plaid pajama bottoms. Megan sniffs a stained, sky blue, low-cut t-shirt. She shrugs and puts on what turns out to be a very tight-fitting shirt.

“This is nice,” she muses, almost as though she is alone, talking to herself, “now I have a few minutes to let dinner and all my other food digest, before I dig into dessert.”

She pulls a bottle of white wine out of her mini-fridge and takes a swig directly from the bottle. Megan thunders over to the bookcase, still holding her wine. She takes another swig and sets the bottle down next to you. The enormous THUD takes you out of your revelry. You’re back in the moment, reeling from what has happened to Will. And the disgust you feel, regarding the layers of Megan’s cunt fluids and sweat, that have dried around your skin and hair.

“Fucking Heather hordes all the red wine, so I keep the best white wine for myself,” she says, the boozy, wine vapors hitting you.

Megan presses her chest against the bookcase and grins. Her enormous forearm looms over you. Megan’s fingers land behind you and you feel an intense pain as she FLICKS you off the bookcase. You land in Megan’s cleavage, still in shock over the sight of her eating Will. She trots out of her room and towards the stairs. Megan’s heavy, warm breasts crash against you. The soft skin continually wipes away the tears, that are still streaming down your face.

Even if Megan could see the tears, coming from your miniscule body, nothing would change. She’d feel a sick pleasure, if anything at all.

“GRJhNkkHhkkgGhHg,” her stomach echoes up to you.

It’s as though the destructive pit of digestion, wanted to remind you that it was too late. Will has already been cast to his doom. Once again, the strange feeling of wanting Megan to, “get it over with,” and eat you, pops into your head. This time, it is built on the hope that you could find Will in the chaotic storm of slop in her gut. And the two of you would not die alone. It is a very jarring thought, to want to be eaten, so that you can comfort your love.

At the same time, your desire to escape, has never been higher. It seems that every minute you’ve been Megan’s captive, the yearning to escape, reaches a new zenith. One you think could never be topped, but repeatedly has been. When she ate Will, you watched your worst fear come to life. And now, you feel a certainty, that your own demise has never been closer. This horrible fate could reunite you with Will. Or you could find his digested corpse, in the acidic stew.

The emotional whiplash, of both wanting to be eaten, so you can find Will, and the desperation to escape your imminent demise, shatters your sanity. During this tizzy, you failed to notice the transition from Megan’s warm cleavage, to her cold, kitchen counter. There is an ear-splitting DING, and she pulls a plate out of the microwave. She places the lime green, ceramic plate next to you. The vibrations from this, knock you on your ass. A pleasant, chocolatey smell emanates from the plate. 

The familiar, but still eye-popping pressure of Megan’s fingers, squeezes your body. You  look down and see three brownies. One is perfectly centered, on top of the other two. Megan drops you and land on something moist and warm. The post-microwave heat of the brownies, burns your skin a little. Megan’s titanic hand looms overhead, casting a larger shadow. You prepare yourself to be scooped up with the brownie, and deposited in Megan’s horrific mouth. Instead, light glistens off black nail polish, as her pinky jams you inside the confection.

“Wouldn’t want you falling off on the journey up.”

You feel the brownie being lifted into the air. The wind is still knocked out of you, from the force of her finger. Though firmly in place inside the brownie, you can still see the world around you.

“Oh yeah, shit,” Megan says, “the wine I wanted to pair with these brownies, is still in my room.”

The brownie cushions some of the THUD of being dropped back onto the plate. You let out a sigh of, relief at the sight of Megan exiting the kitchen. You have a moment to collect yourself, still reeling from the shock of everything that’s just happened. Then you hear the familiar boom of a giantesses’ footsteps. Looking up, you don’t see Megan. You surmise that this is her roommate, Heather. There’s a round, ovular shape to Heather’s head, almost like a pigeon. Her eyes are wide and a piercing blue.

“Ugh, that lo mien was not enough, I need some dessert,” Heather’s explosively loud voice says, as she rubs her belly.

Her belly muffin-tops over her red gym shorts. A glance at her chest tells you, if she and Megan were not so territorial, the two could easily share bras. Heather’s lime green tank-top, accents her skin, which has a darker tan than Megan’s. In addition to skin that’s seen more sun, she has a much sunnier disposition than her roommate. The living mountain of her body, jiggles and shakes as she dances around the kitchen. She twirls her hair, which is dyed blue and green. It seems like Heather is looking for something.

All the while, you are screaming your lungs out. You try to climb out, but the gooey composition of the brownie makes this difficult. With each attempt to escape, you just ended up buried deeper inside the treat. Heather spots the plate with you and the brownies. She has thin, pink lips, but a big, wide mouth. One that forms a delighted smile, at the sight of this dessert. You think your heart is going to pop out of your chest, from the adrenaline.

            Her hand looms over you, in all its gigantic glory. Seeing this and the shadow it casts, fills you with dread. Your screaming is clearly accomplishing nothing, but you can not stop. You are too terrified and too desperate. The brownie raises into the air, with you still jammed in it. Light reflects off the zebra pattern, painted into Heather’s nails. The reflection gets in your eye and when you look away, you see Heather licking her lips in anticipation.

The brownie comes closer to Heather’s mouth and her thin lips open. This reveals a moist, slimy and humid cave. The idea that Heather, “hogs the toothpaste,” let alone knows toothpaste exists, becomes preposterous to you.

A horrible, “URrrYYruuaaPPpp!” belching sound, blasts out of Heather’s mouth.

You are coated with her disgusting, warm saliva. Heather laughs at her own noise and you think your eardrums are going to burst. Megan’s grumbling about Heather, “hording all the red wine,” is forced back into your mind. In addition to the fruity, boozy quality, her breath also has a garlic and soy tint. Mixed with the smell of food that’s been in the sink for too long. Her not quite white, not quite yellow teeth, bite down on the brownie.

Her bite captures a sizable chunk of the dessert, but you are spared. The sight of her massive, pink tongue, tossing the brownie bite, is as disgusting as it is horrifying. Wadded up bits of food, are caked into her gums. Chords of saliva, some of which are taller than you, run from her pallet, to behind her lower lip. They break at the slightest prodding from heather’s tongue. A chunk of food, is powerless against the mouth of a giantess.

You are unable to break free, as you and the next bite of brownie, plunge into the dark cave of Heather’s mouth. Her enormous teeth, crush and mash the dessert you were trapped in. You escape their crushing power, but still end up on Heather’s slimy tongue. You find yourself mimicking Will’s actions, in Megan’s mouth. Each attempt to reach Heather’s lips, immediately fails. And instead you face-plant into the soggy mucus and salvia, of her squishy tongue. Heat and humidity, along with the rank smell of her breath, hits you from every angle.

You feel her tongue moving you to the back of her throat, with the rest of her food. Trying to claw and stop your decent, fails. Instead you only collect reams of her tongue scum, under your fingernails. If you were going to be eaten, in a way you wish it could’ve been Megan. Then you and Will might have been reunited, in her gut.

But maybe this mouth, belongs to someone who can help. Clearly, Heather is not in the know about tinies. Perhaps, your intense writhing, squirming, and fighting will be enough, for her to sense something’s odd. Maybe, she’ll pluck you out and learn of the horrors her roommate commits, before it’s too late…

GLUCK!

It’s too late. You’re already in her fleshy, smooth throat. The constriction you feel is so intense, you’re shocked you haven’t burst into a splat of goo. This is the most uncomfortable and disgusting experience of your life. But then, the sphincter into her stomach opens. And it blows your mind how much worse things can and do get.

The smell is like a garbage disposal. In many ways, this place is a kind of garbage disposal. Only the smell is 100X worse. You immediately vomit into Heather’s ocean of the same substance. The heat and humidity are incredibly intense. Her rumbling gut, tosses and throws you around with her mush. There is a chaotic violence to the current and movements of your prison.

 You accidentally ingest some of the chewed mush that composes your life raft. You immediately spit out the chocolatey, vomity, chyme. There is a continuous, sloshing sound, caused by the movements of this disgusting ocean.

“HHrrnkkHuhhUhh!” Heather’s stomach lets out another deafening rumble.

There’s a fleshy, wet slapping sound. The source of this becomes apparent, when you are thrown against her slimy, stomach wall. Its folds squeeze you, very hard. You are coated in a thick, disgusting mucus. PLOP! Another chunk of brownie lands in the mush. SPLASH! More red wine rains down into this horrible ocean. You were already quite nauseated, from the heat, humidity and stench. But the vapors from her wine, add an extra layer of haziness to your experience.

One of the most disorienting things, is Heather’s heartbeat. It’s calm and peaceful. To you, she is an all-powerful, destructive goddess. But for her, it’s just another evening. PLOP! An evening to enjoy dessert. SPLASH! And some wine.

You sweat profusely, from the unbearable heat and humidity of Heather’s gut. The dried layer of Megan’s sweat and pussy fluid, that’s all over your body, begins to fall away. But new coatings have formed on your skin and hair. Endless layers of the mucus from Heather’s stomach folds, the horrific stew of chewed mush, and the cocktail of her wine and saliva, coat and re-coat your body. Every inch of skin, and the hair on EVERY part of your body, are covered in these substances.

“GrrnhUHhnkkUuhhGh!”

Only the loudest and most deafening grumbles of her stomach, catch your attention. The endless grumbles and roars of Heather’s stomach, are interrupted with her echoing voice saying, “so, what I had the last few brownies?”

There’s a pause, then you hear, “what do you mean you added something special?”

For a half-second, you are able to take some solace, that in the end, Megan was pissed, that she didn’t get what she wanted. But then, you feel an odd vibration, unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Followed by the reverberations of Heather screaming. The tone of Heather’s shrieks is familiar. You realize it is the distinct tone of someone in Megan’s clutches.

Your energy has started to fade, but your attention is roused, by the echoing shout of Heather yelling, “bitch, your mouth is disgusting! Let me out!”

This is followed by the echoes, of what sounds like Heather trying to scream, but being muffled by something constrictive. Finally, your suspensions are confirmed, when you feel the familiar sensation of falling, from the sphincter at the base of a giantesses’ throat, into the mush of her stomach. It is now certain, that woman who consumed you, is now herself, trapped in the gut of a goddess. Even the smallest movements Heather made, before she was shrunk, would disrupt and intensify the sloshing in her gut. Now, it is compounded, as she herself, is tossed in the chyme of Megan’s stomach.

“I’m sorry, little tiny. If I had known…” Heather interrupts herself, with a bout of dry heaving, as Megan’s gut tosses her every which way.

You find yourself feeling some forgiveness towards Heather. Her cries of distress, mimic your own. It is an odd kinship, that you feel with her. Megan is digesting both of you. Just like she  did to Will. Given how much time has passed since he was swallowed, and your own level of deterioration, you know he must already be gone.

The jostling of the gut is compounded a second time. By the movement of Megan returning to her room. As you fade inside Heather’s gut, you extended your sympathies to her. Knowing Megan, Heather is going to have endure the noise of Megan enthusiastically masturbating, alongside the pain of being digested. For a moment, you think back to your best times with Will, before all this insanity. The sound of Heather’s gut, rumbling and churning, as she herself is churned, is the last thing you hear, before you fade for good...