- Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:

Slow size-change, breasts, gentle, willing, mouth play, the steamy content starts towards the end of this chapter and continues in the next

The next week couldn’t have passed more slowly. It crept by like molasses, though that’s also to say it was sweet in its own way. Bethany absolutely adored this part of the process. She liked it nearly as much as the moment she finally got her hands on them. The young man called himself “JP,” and he had opened up to her like a torrent of water rushing through a broken damn. Their fantasies fit together like a jigsaw puzzle, and he was filling her up with confidence that he’d be the perfect dinner guest. He was extremely enthusiastic about many aspects of what she considered foreplay, which was always a plus, but his primary fixation was vore. She was certain that he’d be the kind of guy she could take her time with assuming he made it past the “moment of truth,” and that she’d savor every second of his company until his final miniscule struggles faded along with his physical being within the confines of her belly.

They’d discussed some of their favorite scenarios, giving her ample materials to work with as she slowly planned how she intended to put him to use. Every night she went to bed pretending she could feel his tiny hands and feet playing across her naked skin. She would barely brush her nipples and clit with her little finger while pretending it was really him giving it all he had, and then she’d suck on her pinky and swallow, and would swear she could almost feel him going down and wriggling within. It helped that she’d experienced it before. She saved this kind of play for when she was anticipating actually closing the deal with someone. It was much more effective that way. She didn’t know how he was spending the time he had left, or why he needed a week before he could meet her, but she didn’t really care. As far as she was concerned, he was preparing to give her that which she valued above all; his consent.

Finally, the day arrived. She’d considered making him meet her somewhere in public, but eventually resolved to simply invite him over. She was determined to appear confident, in control, but above all, casual. She preferred to make it seem like what was about to “go down” wasn’t really that big of a deal to her in terms of logistics or normality. She liked the idea that her catch had built this scenario up in their mind and imagined it all playing out in a dozen ways only to subvert those expectations and instead come off as someone merely happy to oblige something that to them meant the culmination of a life-long dream and the end of not so long a life. Of course, it was an act. She was practically vibrating with eager anticipation with every passing minute as she lounged on her sofa in her casual clothes. She’d donned a white tank top that fit loosely, allowing for her plain black bra to spill out along with her ample breasts, and sweat pants that left plenty to the imagination. All the better for once they came off and revealed what she wasn’t wearing beneath, she thought. The one really fine touch she did take the time for was in applying a scentless lip gloss that really made them shine.

A few minutes before he was due, she heard a light knocking at her door. It almost made her jump, less out of being startled than being irrevocably excited. She breathed out a deep sigh, forcing her implacable veneer of calm to shield her hopes against any possibility that this might not live up to her every expectation, and she marveled at the smooth sound of her own voice when she called to him, “It’s open, let yourself in.”


JP had arrived almost an hour early. He was terrified that he wouldn’t be able to find her address and really didn’t want to let the plans for today be subjected to such trivial error. After finding the place with relative ease, he cursed himself for being too eager, and walked around the neighborhood feeling like a nervous fool for forty-five minutes before finally succumbing to the allure and knocking on her door. He didn’t know what to expect. He was already surprised that he was simply being invited over for something he considered far from casual, but when he heard her voice call out faintly from behind the heavy door, it was almost too much for him. He was about to meet the woman who had claimed to be able to help him realize his deepest, darkest fantasies. She had promised he wouldn’t be disappointed; guaranteed that by the end of the day they’d both be happy, and by the end of the night, she still would be. He was sure this must be a seriously clandestine operation on her part as she was taking on quite a bit of risk, and yet, her door wasn’t locked, and she simply beckoned him in. “She really must like her prey showing some initiative,” he quietly said to himself, and he turned the knob and pressed forward.

When he got inside, he was greeted to the visage of a woman who looked like she’d just gotten out of bed but was entirely better for it. She was stunning. His eyes made a desperate attempt to collect as much information about her as possible while his ears attempted to communicate to his brain that she had told him to sit down. For a moment he just stood there, mouth slightly agape while he awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hand still on the doorknob. By the time her invitation to seat himself had registered in his brain, she was already speaking again.

“Go ahead and lock that. Then please, do come sit down.” She pushed up from her prostrate position and patted the cushion on the couch right next to her.

“Oh, sorry. I uh… right.” He sent the deadbolt home and then, without looking at her again while he collected himself, proceeded across the quaint sitting room and sunk into the soft couch directly beside her. As his weight settled into the couch, she leaned into him, placing an arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder, her pin straight platinum hair draping elegantly over his chest.

“That’s better,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, JP.” She remained in that position, maintaining unflinching eye contact with him.  He would like to have said he matched her gaze, but his own eyes kept fluttering here and there, sometimes to her cleavage, sometimes to her lips, and then back to her big, glossy eyes. They were somewhat two-toned, hazel rings with little ringlets of turquoise within. They were captivating. It was a couple of minutes before he realized he hadn’t strung together a single coherent sentence since opening the door. He stammered a bit, clearing his throat to prepare to speak until she seized the opportunity to once again put him off his balance.

“You’re cute. Mind if I have a little taste?” At that, she grasped up his left hand and swiftly yet smoothly took his middle and forefinger between her lips. She applied delicate suction to the digits and ran her tongue around them smoothly before extracting them from her mouth’s embrace. She closed her eyes and smacked her lips thoughtfully a few times before forcefully placing his hand on her throat as she swallowed with an exaggerated “gulp.” She then pulled his hand down, guiding it deftly between her breasts before she arranged it so it was placed open-palmed below the left one. As if on cue, he could feel and hear her stomach punctuate the gesture with a single, loud, tantalizing gurgle. He was dumbstruck. She could tell. He had to say something to establish that he actually had anything going on upstairs, but it was becoming somewhat difficult when all of the blood being pumped through his body by his racing heart seemed to be getting stuck in his rapidly hardening erection.

“I… see I’ve come to the right address,” he managed to say. “I like how you shake hands, Bethany.” For a second, her eyebrows came together as if trying to make out what he had meant, and then, she burst out laughing. He laughed with her until she finally caught her breath and said,

“And I see I’ve got the right man,” she gestured to the bulge forming in his jeans. “Now, I’m more than happy to engage with you in shooting the breeze—diffuse some tension—but first, I find it necessary to establish that you really are what I ordered.” She suddenly produced a small, strange-looking sort of pistol from behind her back and let it rest lazily on her thigh. “This can make you smaller,” she began, and held up the little finger of her left hand, “a lot smaller. This small. This is how big I want you to be so that I can easily swallow you, but still feel you once you’ve gone down. You’ll be this small, whole, and alive slipping down my throat and into my stomach. I want to eat you, and if you let me shrink you, I will eat you. I will not let you out. This is your last chance to back down. Are you ready to give me what I want?”

He was speechless. Having it broken down for him so matter-of-factly almost left him shaken to bits. His heartrate had reached impossible new heights, and as if she had him by a set of strings like a marionette, his dick twitched and bobbed up attentively when she said the words ‘swallow,” and ‘stomach.’ He nearly exploded before she finished her little explicative confession. She had told him nothing contrary to what had brought him here in the first place but seeing the device and hearing it from those glossy pink lips made it almost too real, and yet, not nearly real enough. He wanted her. No, she wanted him, and he wanted to give himself to her. He’d spent plenty of time contemplating that fact during the entire week before he’d delivered himself to her doorstep. He was already resigned to his desired fate and would accept it however it turned out according to her demands.

“I’m ready to give you everything. I’m ready this second.” She flashed him a perfect, knowing smile, and her grip on the pistol tightened, and then she tossed it aside. A mixture of emotions washed over him as he watched it bounce heavily off the right arm of the couch before settling harmlessly into the cushion. He couldn’t tell if what he felt was more parts relief than disappointment.

“Good, then we can shoot the breeze. How about I make you a drink?” She braced herself on his thigh, stood up, and made her way out of the room and into the hallway. He was at a loss, and just stared at her sweatpants-clad ass swaying with her steps until she turned the corner and disappeared from view. “You can go ahead and follow me if you’d like to,” she called out, shaking him from his two-parts paralysis of arousal and shock. He hopped up obediently, and then caught himself, forcing himself to try and match her casual demeanor, and tried to steady his shaking hands by burying them in his hip pockets while he followed her into what he discovered was her kitchen.


“You strike me as a bourbon guy, yeah?” She asked without turning away from her task. She had positioned herself in front of an elaborately stocked mini-bar. Several differently shaped crystal decanters reflected the sunlight pouring through them and their contents beautifully, and there were plenty of other bottles, glasses, and little metallic artifacts that made the whole arrangement look carefully chaotic.

“I’d love a bourbon-anything, thanks.” He watched her as she nodded and began putting things together. She peeled an orange, and then used the peel to coat the inside of a couple of crystal glasses before her. A couple of sugar cubes, a few dashes of bitters, and some water all went into each glass. Then she added ice; one big spherical ball of it each, clear enough to read through, and finally grabbed one of the decanters with a darker brown substance in it and poured it over the ice in both drinks. She stirred thoroughly and dropped an orange peel twist into both before turning on her heel and presenting him with one of the drinks.

“An old-fashioned for you, dear.” He graciously accepted the glass and sat down with her at the little table-for-two she had against the adjacent wall. She rose her glass between them, and he did the same, clinking them together loudly before taking a small, exploratory sip. Delicious.

“M-m-m, it’s perfect. Thank you!”

“Don’t mention it. I love a good old-fashioned.” She took a long sip from her glass. “And this bourbon really makes me feel nice and warm inside. I can feel it going all the way down.” She winked, and JP chuckled.

“Then what do you need me for?” He chided.

“Hah! Now that’s what I’m talking about. I was worried you’d lost your wits when you got here.” She gave him a big grin. “And because booze doesn’t know what it’s in for. You do.”

“I do. About that…” He seemed suddenly serious, and her face reflected his sudden shift with curiosity. “I uh, really thought that little gun back there was it. The moment, I mean. I thought you were about to really do it—shrink me. Was that a bluff?” She grinned and took on a playful tone.

“Not a bluff. More of a test… an ice breaker!” She said and noted his confused expression. “I’ll explain. When you got here, you were wound up so tightly that I’m surprised you were able to breathe. That test was meant to take you off guard, and so beget a genuine response. That gun very well could have shrunk you, but I wasn’t ready to just yet. I simply wanted to put you under pressure and see if YOU were ready. I would have sent you packing if you’d said no, and you’d always be left wondering if I was serious or not. But you did take me seriously, and you said yes, so I see no need for such barbaric force. I don’t need the gun for the likes of you, JP.” She smiled devilishly at him. “I think you’re very willing to comply.”

“I am. I pretty much made peace with any possibility before coming here. But if you’re still set on, um, shrinking me anyway, and you got my consent…”

“Hence the ice breaker aspect of the test.” She interrupted. “You’re much more at ease now, aren’t you?” He shrugged acceptingly.

“I suppose I am.”

“I’d much rather you be an active participant in this little game than a simple yes-man along for the ride. I didn’t invite you over here to play the slave or the snack. I invited you over here to be a man; an equal. I like devouring men who want to be devoured. That means you’ve got to carry your own weight and show me that you’re just as into this as I am. Otherwise,” she sipped her drink, “you’re just bourbon.” He took her point.

“Ah, I see. So, my showing up at your door isn’t enough of an indicator for consent. You prefer a loud and clear ‘yes!’ as opposed to the simple lack of a ‘no.’” She nodded.

“Exactly. I know a few women who don’t trade words with their prey. They’re quite carnal about it, as if men really were just food. Very domineering. But I got the impression from you that you regarded vore the same way I did. It’s the main event.”

“It’s sex,” he corrected her.

“Yes! Absolutely…” She tilted her head sideways, eyeing him from a different angle. “It’s sex.”

“In a way that actual sex could never quite live up to,” he said. Her eyes narrowed.

“You almost sound like you’ve done this before.” He laughed.

“Probably wouldn’t be sitting here if I had. No, I just know that sex, while plenty fun, has never satisfied the desire I’ve had burning within me since before I had a word for it; since before I sexualized it. With your help, I’d really like to fix that.”

“You’d really like to… as if now you need MY consent,” she said, the right corner of her lips tugging into a sly grin.

“Well, hey! It’s like we established. Vore is sex to us. If I just wanted to be eaten, I’d go swim around in shark infested waters covered in chum.” They both shared a hearty laugh at this.

“That certainly would get you into some trouble,” she mused, and reached across the table, taking his free hand into her own. “Which isn’t to say you’re not in trouble now. I’ve smelled blood in the water since your first correspondence.”

“But you’re no mindless shark. You’re a beautiful woman, and you want to enjoy some mutually-consented-to vore with me, a man, not bourbon.” Her grip on his hand tightened at his words.

“JP,” She began, and leaned forward towards him, staring at him intently. “I want you inside me more than I’ve ever wanted to fuck anybody.” His whole body quaked from an irresistible shiver that coursed through his bones at hearing these words. He worried absurdly that his erection would end up lifting the small table and spill their drinks. To make matters worse, she leaned even closer to him, and let her jaw slacken slowly before finally opening her mouth wide and sticking out her tongue. He was a deer in headlights. He could see the overhead lights reflecting off the bumpy surface of her perfect pink tongue, and his gaze was drawn inwards as if she already had him. Her lips were stretched taught and yet still somewhat plump. Her teeth glistened and sparkled more beautifully than the crystal decanters on her mini-bar. Her throat was a dark and inviting abyss framed by a cute and shapely uvula. He didn’t notice that he was leaning towards her until her mouth suddenly clamped shut and she planted a soft, sensual kiss on his lips. She released his hand from her own and leaned back from him, making pleasant eye contact. “Soon enough,” she began. “For now, I’m rather enjoying foreplay.” His face flushed.

“There are other kinds of foreplay I’m looking forward to as well. Some topics we discussed via email.”

“Oh, yes. Don’t you worry.” She licked her lips. “There’s no rush. Plenty of fun to be had before I’ve had my fill of it. But I don’t know how much longer I can keep my hands off of you.” She excused herself from the table and made her way back to the mini bar. This time, she spent much less time and effort concocting a drink, and there was only one glass. She brought it back to him and set it on the table.

“Neat?” he asked, not having noticed her putting anything additional into the bourbon this time.

“Not exactly,” she said. “I told you I wouldn’t need to use the gun.” She cocked one eyebrow up, the expression full if implication. He understood it entirely. She had somehow made this drink specially to suit their needs. He picked it up, weighing the crystal glass carefully in his hand, considering that this was the real moment of truth. She had made it entirely his choice. If he drank this, he would shrink, and she would swallow him. How would it feel? Would shrinking hurt? Would he pass out? What about the swallowing—the stomach? He imagined for a moment his tiny body on the table ready to be plucked up and dropped into her mouth for keeps. He tried to keep his hand holding the glass from shaking.

“Bottoms up,” he said and raised the glass high. “To your health.” He downed the entire beverage in a single gulp. He even shook the empty glass over his open mouth a bit to make sure he got every last drop. He sighed with contentment and set the glass down with a “clack” on the table between them. “A-h-h. So, how long until that kicks in?”

“Not sure, I don’t really bother with measuring. Maybe a few minutes. An hour at most. The strength of the dose doesn’t change how small you’ll get, only how long it takes to get you there.”

“And the dose in that gun in the other room?” He had to make an effort to speak clearly and calmly. He couldn’t tell if he was so nervous that he couldn’t enunciate properly, or if the strange shrinking chemicals were already having an impact on his physiology.

“Extremely strong, and not exactly a dose. It works differently; gets the job done in seconds. It’s more of a defense item.”

“A defense item? What’s wrong with a real gun?”

“This gun makes it a lot more convenient and fun to hide the body?” She stuck her tongue out playfully. He laughed.

“That’s something. But what’s wrong with shrinking me instantly?”

“Let’s just say that it wouldn’t taste as good as your drink.” She never took her eyes off of his. “And the side effects of shrinking that much that quickly are less than pleasant.”

“Any side effects to this method?” He was less curious than he was deliberately distracting himself. He felt a little strange, and he was trying to make sure it wasn’t all in his head.

“Oh, JP,” she sighed with an air of mock-pity. “If you haven’t noticed yet, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

At hearing this, he suddenly felt compelled to take stock of his situation. He broke away from her entrancing gaze and gave himself a look over. He had taken her implication correctly. He was definitely smaller. He wasn’t sure how much he had shrunk in the last minute or so, but it was enough that the table top had gone from resting directly above his waist to being aligned above his belly button. His jaw dropped. He looked back up to her and she was wearing the most mischievous grin.

“Looks like I won’t have to keep my hands to myself much longer,” she cooed.

“Who said you had to wait this long?” He interjected. He was trying with all of his might to keep a mental grip on the situation. He didn’t want to ruin this experience with a panic attack, and if the physical changes could be endured without a loss of focus, he was determined to see it through.

“M-m-m, no one, of course. But nothing gets me in the mood quite like what you’re doing right now.” His left shoe fell off and landed on the floor with a dull thud. She giggled.

“You’re making my clothes just fall off!” He joked.

“How long before the other shoe drops?” His right shoe followed suit.

“That long.” He chuckled, and then groaned. “Okay, in all seriousness, this feels so strange.”

“I’m surprised you’ve been so cavalier about it,” she admitted, “most people pass out.”

“I wouldn’t call it excruciating, just bizarre. I would guess that anyone who passes out is probably succumbing to the shock of it.”

“So, you’re implying you’re just more of a man than my previous rendezvous?”

“Hardly an implication,” he realized he had to look up at her now to maintain eye contact. The edge of the table had passed the bottom of his ribcage, “and from where I’m sitting, you’re becoming more of a woman every second.”

She pushed her chair back and reached for him across the table at a speed that startled him. In seconds, she had him with both hands under his armpits and had pulled him back towards her. He was a little shocked at how strong she seemed but realized that he was getting down to about the size of a toddler. She set him down atop of her lap with his legs astride her waist like a saddle, and leaned down towards him, wrapping his body with her arms and catching him in a deep kiss. He realized that she had lifted him out of his pants and boxers. He was naked from the waist down. She was enflamed with passion. Her now overlarge tongue breached the barrier of his lips and invaded every corner of his diminishing oral cavity. He returned the embrace with as much strength as he could muster. As they continued kissing, his shirt seemed to outgrow his shoulders, and she pulled it down over his body, actually ripping the fabric audibly in the process. He didn’t care. It’s not like he would need to put it back on. She lifted him away from her waist in the process and held his mouth to hers.

She broke the kiss and leaned back. He took this opportunity to open his eyes and gauge his situation. He was almost overwhelmed with awe. He was probably no more than two-feet tall, and she towered above him beautifully. Had he still been sitting in her lap; he was sure his head wouldn’t come up past her chest. As things were, she seemed able to support his weight with little to no effort. He was so caught up in his observations that when she suddenly stood up, his heart skipped a beat.

“I can tell you’re going to be incredible,” she purred, and stepped into the middle of the kitchen, setting him down in the middle of the floor. He had evidently been shrinking since they’d stopped kissing, as he now only reached midway up her shins.

“This is incredible,” he said quietly.”

“What’s that?” She asked, cupping a hand to her ear.

“You’re incredible!” He shouted, eliciting a laugh from her.

“That’s not what you said,” she chastised him, wagging a forefinger.

“Well you are… and this is… wait, could you really hear me?”

“I have very sensitive ears. And I’m used to attuning them to little voices. You might have to speak up a little though in a minute or two. It looks like you’re about finished…”

“I’m only getting started,” he assured her.

“Is that so?” She reached down and plucked him off the floor, now capable of picking him up in a single hand wrapped around his legs. He guessed he was less than a foot tall. She held him abreast with her face and beamed a smile at him. “Well, first things first then. We’d better get you used to a LOT of this.” Before he had a chance to ask her what she meant, she stuck out her tongue and licked him from his waist to his forehead. The first lick was slow and smooth. He was able to appreciate just how warm and powerful her slimy mouth muscle had become compared to his miniscule form. Then, she licked him again and again until he actually lost count and became quite disoriented. His penis was throbbing within the confines of her grip, and he couldn’t help but thrust against the fleshy padding of her fingertip that seemed perfectly placed for his pleasure. She seemed to notice. “Someone is just revving to go, aren’t they? Well, I’d say you’re the appropriate size for transport. Let’s take this show to the bedroom, what do you say?”

“Do I get to pick where I’ll be carried?” He asked playfully, partially to practice how to timber the volume of his voice, and partially because he was curious as to what she meant by ‘small enough to transport.’

“Only if you have a preference between left cup or right.” Both of her brows went up as she said this, and her free hand tugged and let snap her bra strap.

“I’m sure you have a favorite nipple.” He responded. She giggled.

“How considerate of you! My right one has always been a little more sensitive. See if you can’t make good use of that while you’re in there.” At that, she pulled her right bra cup open and unceremoniously stuffed his tiny body inside. His legs slid down until he felt them collide with the support wire, and his face settled about an inch above her nipple, which he noted seemed to double in size in response to his chest rubbing against it. He didn’t want to waste a second. He brought his hands together in front of his chest and began doing his best to ‘pinch’ her nipple. He went so far as to craning his neck to plant some kisses on the enormous tip, and even bit it a little. This got a muffled “squeal” of surprise from above that he decided translated to “yes, more of that, please,” and so he wriggled a bit so that his face was more aligned with her nipple and he began to chew on it while his hands maintained their efforts.

“This is going perfectly,” Bethany thought to herself. JP was everything she was hoping for. He was confident, witty, sexy, and most of all, very willing. He wanted what she wanted. And now she had him. He’d allowed her to shrink him. Hell, he downed the solution in one gulp. And now he was in her bra, working away happily at her nipple, and she was eager to acquaint him with the rest of herself. She resolved to sit in place for a moment and enjoy the sensations of his enthusiasm. There was no need to rush things. It was going to be a lovely night.


You must login (register) to review.