September 1st, 2001…

Since a good story can’t be all gloom and doom, we now digress into a new plotline of a more romantic nature.

Louise Waters washed her hair, dried herself off, put on her loveliest dress and drove to the Flying Wild restaurant in the summit of one of the tallest buildings in New York. She looked around eagerly, until she saw a familiar face. It was a face that she had only seen in a photograph on a dating site, but had instantly come to like. The guy was even featured, well dressed, and had an air of gentility: just her type.

Looking radiant with elegance, she walked over to him.

“Evan?” she said.

“Does reality do justice to the photograph?” he asked.

“I’m not disappointed at all,” said Louise.

Evan Chully kissed her cheek and led her to a table by the window, with a panoramic view of New York below them. Louise Waters smiled in appreciation. In fact, her name was Bea Louise Waters, but the Bea had seemed too old fashioned. So she usually dropped it in favour of her middle name, occasionally referring to herself by the compromise of B Louise Waters, inspired, she admitted by the author L Frank Baum.

They talked about their careers, their past dating experiences, and the things about New York which excited them the most. Louise had not been drinking, and noticed that Evan hadn’t either. Yet she found that he was loosening up as he got to know her, losing his inhibitions and speaking more openly, more boldly in fact. Eventually he said something which, on a first date, might well have turned most women off.

“I’d love to remove all your garments slowly and give you a nightcap in my spa,” said Evan.

“Is that your goal in all this?” asked Louise, betraying no emotional reaction one way or the other.

“Not so much a goal as a fantasy,” said Evan.

“Now that the subject of fantasies has come up, I’d like to tell you something straight up about mine. If I could shrink you down to tiny size and swallow you whole, I would,” said Louise.

Evan sat there in unqualified silence.

“It’s not your average run of the mill fantasy, is it?” asked Louise at last.

“I can’t say I’ve heard it before,” said Evan, and looked down at his watch, “Still it was interesting to meet you, and get to know you this evening. I guess I’d better get the bill now, so we can both get some sleep before work tomorrow.”

“Another one gone,” thought Louise, as she made her way home, “To think he’s never heard of the women with the gts gene and the men with the shrinking gene, not to mention their sometimes mutual fantasies. I just haven’t been able to meet one of THOSE guys at all, let alone one I’d like. But who am I kidding? As if I’ll ever find an available guy who wants to be eaten. They’d already be paired up with giantesses who want to do it. It’s so unfair that I don’t have the gts gene, and yet I do have the giantess vore desires. Not that it would hurt the little guys going down. They show no appreciation for the trouble I’d go to in reducing their size first.”

She had had so many first dates, all of which had ended with that precarious announcement of her fantasy. She knew the causality well enough, but she lived for two moments: the one she had yet to experience, when a first date guy would by some miracle respond positively to her declaration of desire to dine on him; and the one she experienced almost invariably which was the look of stunned surprise on the face of each guy as she told him what she wanted to do.

There was time enough to look again, before she went to bed. She hopped onto the internet and browsed the recently joined new members of the dating sites she frequented, until she saw a profile name which had her licking her lips with longing:

Shrunknguy!