Melvin’s mind is bombarded with new sensations; a sensuous collage of stimuli bringing all his senses to full awareness for their first time. 

The sight, or perhaps better described as the vision of Rachelle from every conceivable view as she carries on.  Her female form, slender, strong, smooth flowing rounded curves, her absolute perfection is more than his feeble mind can fully grasp. 

The constant feeling of soaking in her armpit, basking in Rachelle’s underarm filth as one would relax drinking a glass of champagne in a luxurious hot tub. 

The crushing pressure smushing him like a piece of Play-Doh whenever she closes her left arm in tight to her body.

Melvin sniffs in deeply.  The pungent rank of sweaty underarm odor is overpowering all his other senses except for taste.  He is focused on the intensity, the full bodied aroma of Rachelle’s feminine flavor.

The never before felt sensations of his transformed body.  A strange weightlessness, as if floating alternately underwater and in space.  A continual refocusing of his mind and body; keeping his mind’s every thought concentrating on Rachelle while his body repeatedly reforms itself to absorb her armpit’s sweat and grime, binding him in a state of perpetual sexual frustration.

Melvin’s mind is forevermore focused solely on Rachelle, he can no longer think of anything except her; yet he senses many changes to his physical self beyond being shrunk and smushed up in Rachelle’s left armpit.  As he sniffs up, licks up, sucks up, and absorbs Rachelle’s foul armpit grime, Melvin’s feels himself being filled up with it, becoming one with it.  Not so much as one fills up from eating and drinking a meal, more as one feels their essence being transformed, even replaced by that which they consume.  Every drop of her tangy sweat, every tasty little flake of her skin, every whiff of her underarm’s foul odor, every bit of her filth and grime are interweaving within his body and soul.  He senses the transition, as he consumes Rachelle’s nastiness, it flows to every part of him, to every cell, to every molecule, and to his bottomless unfillable core he was never aware of before. 

A strange counter flow, one that is clean and pure, one of pleasure and power, one of boundless ecstasy rises up from deep within the microstructures of his form.  He senses them, but not one iota of their varied pleasures does he experience.  All this good clean manna is passed along to Rachelle’s underarm, a tribute to her feminine superiority.  In return, for his manna, for his spiritual nourishment he suffers.  He suffers nasty tastes, nauseating stench, ever building sexual frustration with eternal denial, the omnipresent visual image of his captor and tormentor Rachelle whose beauty and indifference bring him serenity by her humiliating dehumanization of him.  

With his technical education background, if Melvin could stop thinking about Rachelle for a few moments he would compare his situation similar to that of a component in an electronic circuit.  Melvin would equate his absorbing of all her underarm’s filth to that of negative electrical current hole flow while in reverse to him all the good going to Rachelle as positive electrical current electron flow.  His being miniaturized and invisible are nothing more than Rachelle plugging him into the conduit of some form of energy unknown to him.  His being visible or invisible are a simple turning of a switch on or off by her.  Alas, Melvin will never be reprieved from his new position within Rachelle’s underarm to do such an analysis.

His thoughts are only of Rachelle.  Without his mind able to actually think about himself, just as one is keenly aware of the light and warmth from our sun yet never having to look up in the sky to see it, Melvin is intensely aware of the agonizing pains from his raging hard-on and denied sexual release.  He humps Rachelle’s armpit as a dog hump’s his owner’s leg.  It’s a natural, repetitive motion for him now, as are his non-stop sniffing, licking, and sucking for any tidbit of filth her armpit has to offer up as his treat.

Rachelle has reduced Melvin to a sweat pad which can only think of her while sexually agonizing in all the vial her left armpit provides his tiny form.  Melvin has found the meaning, the purpose of his existence, and he is happy.