The table was uncomfortable for Stephen. He was stuck on the structure, naked, the cold air-conditioned atmosphere and lack of shelter made him a shivering mess most of the time he spent on it. But the purse he was now stuck in was far worse. In her quest to spice up his three deaths, Grace needed to go to a store (she wouldn't say which) to get some things (things she didn't describe). To prevent him from being eaten by spiders or freezing to death, she had the bright idea of just putting him in a small purse pocket and carrying him around. He felt a bit like a toy breed of dog, if it had a bag over its head. The pocket was closed, nothing in it besides some wadded up gum wrappers Grace put in months ago and promptly forgot about. But the closed pocked meant the temperature increased over time, and the constant rhythmic jostling of the purse as his giant escort walked leisurely around threatened to bowl him over at any time. He could hear the beeping of scanners, the squeaking of cart wheels, and the unmistakable sound of inoffensive fifteen year old pop songs playing outside the purse. She's at a grocery store, he figured. Hang on, is she buying sides to go along with me? Stephen could not believe how willing his girlfriend was to commit to this. She just decided she'll eat him and she'll find a way to make it 'enjoyable' for him, too. Why is she not freaked out by this? Why does she seem so nonchalant? Stephen could only guess as he felt a massive thud followed by the roaring sound of an engine turning over. Grace was taking him home, to his deaths.

As he felt one final thud a few minutes later, he heard his captor speak to him from beyond the leather prison, "Babe? Gonna get ready. I'll take you out in a few minutes. I love you!"

"I love you, too!" he tried to shout to her, figuring he likely couldn't penetrate the walls of the pocket. He sat and stared at the wads of gum for nearly thirty minutes until he heard her steps again. Instead of a booming sound, her footsteps were sharper, more of a clack-clack. He had no time to speculate why that might be as she unzipped his cage and gazed down at him. She was wearing makeup!

In fact, she looked ready for a date. She was adorned with a small but stately necklace, hoop earrings, a low-cut camisole and a short red skirt. Observing the shock on Stephen's face, she squatted down to cover his sky with her face, "like the outfit, honey?"

She plucked the man up from the pocket and slowly rose, giving him the ability to see the black heels she was wearing to complete her outfit. Stephen felt a mix of fear and dread mixed with unabated lust, "You look... incredible," was all he could muster. Oh, man. Her perfume. It's overpowering me, but I don't mind. Fuck, this woman... "That's the idea!" she exclaimed, "I'll treat you to a nice dinner, get you good and liquored up, and by the time you're relaxed and pleased, I swallow you! Quick and clean."

"Oh, alcohol will help this. Good thinking, Grace." Stephen could use a drink for a regular person, anyway. Grace slowly walked into the kitchen, pointing her hand down a little to give her boyfriend a view of her outfit as she swayed back and forth. She didn't mention it, but she could feel a tiny little pressure on the pad of her finger holding Stephen. Good. It's working, she thought to herself. Such a horny little guy! Grace had her suspicions as to how he was reacting to being so small around her, and his apparent stimulation confirmed her theories. She figured if she pushed just a few buttons she could get him willing to do anything she told him to with gleeful abandon. All to get him back to normal, of course. Even if he is really cute like this.

Grace entered the kitchen and set her boyfriend down on the counter, next to a large glass filled with some kind of brownish-red spirit. "What's that your drinking, Grace?" Stephen asked as his trepidation grew. His date looked down at him, "Vermouth, on the rocks with some bitters. Perfect to calm the nerves and open the stomach!" Stephen gulped, "Oh. So you'll eat me after a drink?" A booming laugh filled his head, "No, silly. You're going to be a garnish for me."

"Wait, I-" His protests were interrupted by her massive fingers pinning him once more. She dropped him in casually into the freezing drink, Stephen clinging to an ice cube as the spirit splashed into his face and nose. The burn was intense, barely tolerable thanks to the ice diluting the alcohol just a little. He stared up at the giant before him, peering down with a peculiar expression. There was the concern she had been wearing for a while, but something else obscured that. Something more primal in her face signaled the deepest terror in the little man.

She was hungry.

Grace watched her tiny boyfriend struggle against the drink, his desperate kicks and flails sending barely perceptible ripples through the surface. The ice cubes moved to and fro, threatening to strike him and send him under the sweet waves. But she would prevent that; after all, she needed him to be alive as she eats him. But she had to toy with him, just a little. He's a great swimmer. Let's see just how good he is! She flicked the outside of the glass a few times, her simple motion causing tremors emanating across the drink. The waves pushed the cube Stephen was holding on to and he fell under the waves. Mere seconds later, he reemerged across another ice cube. He yelled something, but Grace wasn't listening. Whatever he wanted didn't matter. Now, she was in charge. She flicked the glass again, harder this time. A tsunami engulfed the tiny man and he sloshed around just under the waves, his movements becoming weaker as the exhaustion and drunkenness began to take hold. As she watched his helpless struggles, she realized she felt different from moments ago. She felt heat move from her feet up to her thighs, felt her skin tighten just slightly, and as she stuck a finger in the drink to swirl up a vortex around Stephen, she felt an unmistakable movement in her abdomen, followed by a little weakness in her arms. Her breathing steady and slow, she lost herself in the titillation of toying with him. So completely helpless. At my mercy. Weak. Tiny. Garnish. It was time. Grasping the glass, she slowly brought it up to her mouth. Just before meeting her lips, she opened her mouth to give her boyfriend a view of his tomb. So close to her ears, she could hear his cries of terror, inconsolably begging for her to do anything, anything but put him in her mouth. But she made her mind up. The glass tipped and cold liquid flowed over into her mouth. Pulling the drink back, she swished it around in her mouth and swallowed, smiling with glee at Stephen, now a bit down from the rim of the glass. "Delightful," she cooed. "You really help brighten the taste, babe." She swished the glass and brought it up for another drink.

Stephen could no longer think as he tried desperately to escape. He could only swim, against the massive current of alcohol flowing into Grace's cavernous mouth. The ice cubes to which he held on colliding nearly crushing him into paste. And Grace above him, pure bliss on her face as she watched him struggle. Exhausted, he lay on an ice cube to get some breath while his girlfriend swallowed what was the second to last gulp, by Stephen's estimation. Just as soon as his head stopped spinning, Grace reached a hand into the glass and began to pluck out the ice cubes. One by one, Stephen's life boats were taken away by his predator. And once she carried up his ice cube, she gently shook it to knock him over into the drink, the tiny man getting a face full of Vermouth. Laughing, Grace took the glass up and swirled him around. Stephen got one last look at his girlfriend's face as her mouth parted and she sucked him inside.

Grace had let him simmer long enough. Now, time to taste. He had unusual texture, much softer than Grace predicted. And a lot more savory, too. She could taste his fear and his sweat, and critically, his arousal. It was subtle, a kind of background note like vanilla in chocolate chip cookies, but it was distinct. Knowing she could complete the ritual now, she wanted to keep tasting him. His struggles, the helpless fight against the current and her mighty tongue, filled her with satisfaction. Sloshing him around violently, she giggled as she felt him hit the back of her molars. But the force of her laugh caused the current of the alcohol to change and shove Stephen back to her throat. Involuntarily, Grace swallowed her boyfriend, and felt his panicked flailing as he dropped into her stomach. "Fuck!" She hit her fist on the table in frustration. She wanted to play with him more, but she could feel him stop moving in her belly as she finally took him. At first, she felt guilt and fear as he was still gone. Then suddenly, she heard a zap behind her. On the dining room table, a little man appeared, lying prone on the surface. She ran over to Stephen and tried to wake him. "Babe? Baby? Wake up!" She poked his side a few times, and finally he arose. "G-grace? Did it work?"

Grace smiled, "Yes, cutie. Your first death! Now, ready for the main course for the night?"