Disclaimer: All persons depicted having sex are over the age of 18. There is a science fiction component to make the story work.
This is a horror-vore shrunken man story. You’ve been warned.
******
George Hanneman was lonely. He was a decent looking man, six feet tall and slim, with not too bad of a face. He wasn’t ugly, but neither was he a model. His loneliness stemmed from a combination of too much time invested into his job and an almost crippling shyness when it came to approaching women.
He had one single, solitary day off before he had to return to the grind of work, and it would be another six before he had another day of free time. There were few options for companionship available to him.
He’d tried the bar scene, but unable to start conversations made it a waste of an evening every time. He’d tried online dating, and had profiles on three separate websites he’d been paying subscription fees to for over a year. He was either too plain, or too dull for any attention there.
George had only one option available to him that panned out here and there, and that was an application on his phone for one night stands. He’d prefer for more than one night, but if that’s all he could get, George would take the time with another human being and be grateful for it.
The app was different than most in that you would post what you were looking for with an accompanying photo, and the ad would be available for viewing for exactly one hour before being deleted from their servers.
He loaded up the app, and began looking through the ads posted by women. The money he paid to use this particular app was worth more than the cost of the three dating sites combined, given how many times he’d had success actually meeting women, few and fleeting as they were.
The one that caught his eye was labeled 'Horny and pregnant needs cravings satisfied.’ The picture attached showed a torso shot of a bulging pregnant stomach, with full, huge swollen breasts resting atop it. Other than those three large spheres, the woman looked slim.
George decided to try. She was probably out of his league, given how smooth and tanned her skin looked, but as they say; Nothing ventured, Nothing gained.
-Hi. My name is George. Are you still looking for company?-
To George's surprise, he got a reply back within minutes.
*I sure am! Do you have a picture?*
This was the point in which nine out of ten times everything fell apart for him. He sent a picture of his face, and crossed his fingers.
*Well hi there handsome! Can you come over right now? I'm so horny!*
-Sure can. Where should I go?-
*18644 45th Ave NE, Apt 331. Bring a condom!*
George blinked at the screen of his phone. That was almost suspiciously easy compared to the usual back and forth of trying to hook up over the app. He shook it off, as she didn’t ask for money or to go to a website or anything like that. He’d already showered this morning, but…
-I'll be there in forty-five minutes or so.-
It was about a half hour to that address. That left him fifteen minutes to get in a quick shower and shave.
*Okay! I'll be here, wet and waiting. What do you drive, so I can watch for your car?*
-Silver Honda Civic.-
*Got it. Hurry!*
George planned to hurry.
******
George knocked on the door of apartment 331, and it was abruptly opened revealing a short, very pregnant thin woman with disproportionately large breasts for her body frame. Her body, currently covered as it was, matched the photo from the ad he answered but her face was simply too pretty. She could have her pick of anyone in the entire world, even as far along in her pregnancy as she was. Why, he wondered, would this woman settle for him?
“Uh…” he stammered, not sure how to ask if he had the right place.
“Hi George! Come on in!” she said cheerfully, and stepped aside for him to enter. “I’m Laura.”
'Well that answers that,' he thought, 'definitely the right place.’
George stepped in, and seeing the shoes by the door, kneeled down to untie his own shoes. When he finally got his shoes off, he looked up to see Laura standing in an open doorway across the living and kitchen space, wearing nothing but tanned skin and a smile. It took his breath away.
“C'mon, baby. I need it so bad right now.”
Feeling somewhat relieved that she was taking charge, George immediately started undressing where he stood. There wouldn’t be any of his fumbling with trying to talk to the opposite sex getting in his way.
He dug the condom out of his discarded pants, and made his way to where Laura was impatiently waiting, fidgeting from foot to foot.
“So, uh, how… how do you want it?”
Laura grinned, and crawled up on to her bed, laying her head down and presenting her glistening snatch to him. “From behind, but you have to be gentle, okay? If I think you’re too rough for the baby, I won’t think twice about slapping you, alright?”
That sounded fair to George. He rolled the condom on himself, fumbling a little with the unpracticed motions, but persevering until he was covered.
He moved one knee at a time up on to the bed, and shuffled forward until he was close enough to enter her. “Ready?” he asked.
“I’m so ready. Just shove it in, okay?”
Mindful of her warning to be gentle, despite telling him to shove it in, he slowly worked his cock onto her waiting hole, and was a little disappointed at how loose she felt. He’d heard once that sex is like pizza, that even when it’s bad it’s still good. Laura’s wet pussy, while not as tight as he was expecting was still a long way from 'bad'.
“Oh God, George. I need this so bad. Fuck me, fuck me please,” Laura begged.
George started moving his length almost all the way out, before moving in at a speed that when he bottomed out, it sent the smallest of ripples across her pert, juicy ass.
He grasped her by the hips, using the placement of his hands to press the flesh of her ass cheeks together further, liking the gentle ripple that flowed across her behind with every thrust. Still, he was careful not to impact too roughly, or grip her too tightly.
“Oh, that’s perfect, baby. Just like that… You don’t talk much, do you?”
“Uh, no. I’m quiet. But I’m having a good time, don’t worry about that,” he rushed to assure her.
“Mmmm. Me too.”
The room was silent for a time, save for the soft coos coming from Laura and the near silent slap of skin gently impacting skin.
George was straining hard, holding back his orgasm through sheer will alone, but when Laura pushed up on her hands, arched her back, and started to whine through her own orgasm, George could hold back no longer. The erotic sight of the hottest woman he’d ever been to bed with cumming set him off, and he filled the condom reservoir, breathing more heavily than before but otherwise still silent.
Laura rode her body through the trembling aftershocks of her orgasm, and started to rock her body back and forth again on George’s sensitive cock, not realizing he’d already cum. George backed out quickly.
She looked over her shoulder at him, and pouted. “Awww! Are we done already? I’m still horny!”
“I'm sorry, Laura,” George apologized. “You were too sexy, I-I couldn’t hold back. Uh… I could go down on you if you want?”
Laura rolled to a sitting position, showing him again her large belly bump and disproportionately huge breasts, nearly pushing against each other even braless. “No, I’m really craving penetration right now. Say… you wouldn’t be up for trying something kind of kinky, would you?”
George nervously shuffled from foot to foot. “Uh, probably? What do you have in mind?”
Laura bit her lip sexily. “You know those minimizers?”
George frowned, “The garbage thing?”
“Right!” Laura nodded. “You put your garbage in, push a button, and all the trash is one tenth the size it was before.”
“O…Kay?” George had no idea where she was going with this.
Laura gave him a bashful look. “You can just barely fit a person in there, and then, well… a six foot tall man can be a seven inch long human dildo.”
George’s mouth went completely dry, and the silence after her idea was stated aloud stretched on. He tried to wet his lips, but was mostly unsuccessful. “That sounds kind of dangerous…”
Laura wiggled on the bed a bit. “Look, I’m not ashamed to admit that you’re not the first guy I’ve hooked up with through the app. Ever since I got pregnant… the cravings are intense. Things I just have to have, you know? This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done this either. The guys only complain when it’s all over.” Laura’s face turned to a sly smile, like she was laughing at an inside joke. “C’mon, live a little,” she cajoled.
“Well… okay. Um, how…?”
Laura stood, and gestured at his now limp cock, the condom barely hanging on. “You go take care of that, and meet me in the kitchen, okay?” She kissed George’s cheek and half waddled, half bounced out of the bedroom.
George tied the condom tightly, wrapped it in toilet paper, and placed it into the bathroom garbage can. He cleaned his flaccid cock off with a little more toilet paper, and was unsurprised to find his hands shaking. Whether it was from excitement or fear, was the question.
What eventually won him over, was the promise of spending more time with a beautiful woman. As lonely as he was, being with Laura was precious and fleeting, and he knew it. He released a shaky breath, and wandered out of the bathroom to where Laura waited in the kitchen.
George nervously made his way to where Laura was bending over the open drawer of the minimizer, her juicy, bubbly ass pushed out and on display. She straightened up, a tiny bag of shrunken refuse hanging from her fingertips. Laura placed it into a larger bag hanging from the side of it, and turned to him with a bright smile on her face.
He couldn’t help but to take a long look at her large breasts, swollen and so very full, resting high up over her pregnant belly. Her melodious giggle snapped him out of his trance, and he quickly started stammering apologies.
“Oh, that’s okay sweetie. I’m flattered, really. Are you ready?”
George wasn’t, he really wasn’t. But, he steeled himself anyway and moved closer.
“Okay, you’re going to have to get on your hands and knees, and lay down low, alright? This is going to be so great!”
George stepped into the tall drawer of the minimizer, and gingerly got down on his knees, before sitting back on his heels, tucking his arms into his chest, and leaning forward.
“Perfect!” Laura told him happily. “Just stay like that!” Laura pushed on the drawer to close it, and the well oiled castors allowed her to easily move George’s weight inside of the drawer into the compartment.
Laura shut and latched the drawer, before pressing the activation button. The interior lit up as her playmate began to lose mass, and she did a happy little dance. She would have twirled, she was so happy, but was too afraid of falling and hurting the baby. After all, this was all for her baby.
When the indicator signaled the process was complete, and the lights died down, she unlatched the drawer and pulled it back, revealing the seven inch tall man still curled up in the exact center of the bottom.
She reached in and grasped him around his chest, bringing him up to her face to inspect him.
George kicked his legs as he was lifted high into the air and the room spun wildly, before coming into focus on Laura’s gigantic smiling face. “There you are!” she beamed, and George smiled uncertainly back.
“Wha-“ he cut off as he was pressed deep into her firm breast and the world rocked up and down as the giantess holding him bounced back to her bedroom.
Laura sat heavily and laid out on her bed, spreading her legs wide. She brought George up to her face, and he was subjected to a kiss from plump, sexy lips that covered the entirety of his own face.
He opened his mouth to speak, when the giant lips in front of him parted, and he was shoved inside.
Laura shifted her grip to hold him around his waist and thighs with a single hand, roughly running her tongue all over his head and upper body, lubricating him with her saliva just as she would with her silicone dildo. With her other hand, she dipped fingers into her leaking vaginal canal and spread the moisture there-in around her opening and clit.
George’s hands were pinned to his sides by Laura’s grip on his waist and thighs. He wasn’t sure what he expected being a human dildo, but being in her mouth behind those perfect teeth with her less than stellar breath as she drooled all over him wasn’t it.
Laura decided he was slippery enough, and pulled him from her mouth, ignoring his wet coughing and the saliva threatening to drip from his soaked hair. “Now make sure you keep your arms to your sides, pickle. You might, you know, hurt me… or break your arm,” she added as an afterthought, as though him being seriously injured wasn’t really enough for her to care about.
George opened his mouth to ask why she called him ‘pickle', or if she was serious about breaking his arm, but Laura either didn’t see him or didn’t care. He was swiftly moved down, past the mountains of her over-full, swollen breasts, past the tight skin of her equally large protruding baby bump, and ending right at the entrance to her hairless, glistening snatch.
Two colossal fingers parted the enormous, puffy labia in front of his face, the hole inside winking open with a hungry, wet silence. Unceremoniously he was shoved forward, his face impacting her engorged clit, much larger than his own head.
This close, and this big, Laura’s clitoris looked like a basketball with a wet and shiny pink blanket draped over it. He’d always thought that even engorged, a clit was still soft, but at his current size his face had more give to it than the enormous love button did.
It was painful, the way she smashed him against her clit and shoved it around with his delicate face, and George yelled out. The giant woman, again, either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He tilted his head down, and Laura diddled her throbbing clit with the crown of his head.
“Oooooh,” she moaned, his hair tickling her clit in the best way. Faster and harder she slapped his head up and down her hard nubbin, and George felt like she was going to snap his neck. Then, without warning, she tilted her hips and slotted the helpless man inside of her wet, gooey cavern all the way up to where she contained him in her tight grip.
The walls around him squeezed painfully, and the amount of moisture bleeding from those walls increased. A second later, it happened again. George was constricted harshly, roughly once per second as Laura orgasmed around his shrunken torso.
Her interior vagina was, thankfully, not air-tight. It was tight on his sides, but above him there was a little space, which thankfully let air through for him to breathe. She pulled him out briefly, and her cum, not her vaginal lubrication but her actual cum was sticking to his shoulders and head like fifty gallons of pussy snot, stretching back into her dark dripping cavern as a heavy rope that sagged and thinned as gravity pulled at it.
He had a moment to take in the sight, that of her quivering pussy lips and the hot cum trying to simultaneously cling to him and drip off, before he was shoved back in.
Laura rubbed his cum-slick head around her opening, and George felt like he was circling the drain. One swirl, two swirls, a third. Then he was stuffed back inside.
He was too shocked to notice the first time, but the inside of her ravenous cunt was a furnace. Perhaps a boiler, given how wet it was. She let go of where she had gripped him around the waist and arms. He felt her middle finger wedge between his ankles, and with a foot held to it on either side by the neighboring fingers, she slipped him the rest of the way inside of her drenched cavern with a negligent curl of her wrist.
George impacted her hard cervix with his face, and his neck really started to hurt. Laura pulled him almost all the way back out by his ankles, and then shoved him back in, stopping just short of a second cervical collision. With just the casual strength in her dainty wrist, she powered the prone body of George’s entire person into and out of her slick, grasping tunnel.
George was terrified of breaking his arms, so he kept them locked to his sides as he was slid back and forth in her slippery cavern. He recalled being disappointed at how loose she felt before he shrank. Now, she felt unbearably tight, as her powerful vaginal muscles squeezed and tenderized him mercilessly.
Salty, stinging cunt wetness worked its way into his tightly clenched eyes, and he opened his mouth in a silent scream. It was immediately filled with the same fluid, shoved into his mouth on his down-stroke and forcing its way down his throat. His puny throat muscles couldn’t fight back the river of thick vaginal excretions as Laura plowed him through it. Laura moaned and cooed as she fucked herself with his body, but George could only hear the wet squelching as her sponge-like interior folds slathered him.
She picked up her pace, and the back and forth motion of his body sliding inside of her cunt increased to the point that he vomited up all of the pussy juice that had just been shoved into him, along with everything still in his stomach. The mess was quickly washed away.
She shoved him in and out at a blistering pace and he started to forget that outside of this too hot, too wet, too tight orifice was a beautiful woman that he just wanted to spend a little more time with. There was only oppressive heat, moisture, rapid movement, and constriction.
She shoved him all the way in to strike her concrete cervix once again, and pressed him there as she came hard. The squeezing of her tunnel was unbearable, and her cum leaked from everywhere to cover him from his head all the way down to where Laura’s fingers held his ankles securely at her entrance. Once per second, every second, she crushed him in her vaginal embrace and oozed more of her cum to cling to his flesh. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, and couldn’t move.
Once her orgasm had finally abated she moved him just a little, a minute pistoning of his body before being yanked backward, completely out of her cave. He was thoroughly coated in her slime, and didn’t dare open his eyes, they already stung. He could feel the clinging slime of her ejaculate pull downwards as gravity took hold. He opened his mouth wide, trying to make an airway through the cloying pussy ooze, and gasped a much needed breath.
Laura raised her legs backward and tilted her pelvis. She grasped her slick dildo around its chest with her free hand and lined it up to her other hole.
George felt his face being dragged downward, before rubbing against the wrinkled skin of her puckered anus. His eyes opened in horror, despite the pain of her salty cum, and he had a front row view to her pressing him face first through the constricting ring of the beautiful giantess's sphincter.
The girl-cum that coated him easily lubricated his passage into her bowels. Unlike her pussy entrance, her ass opening was an airtight seal that squeezed against him no matter how thick or thin his body was. The gooey coating of slick cunt slop around him let Laura easily slide him through the clenched hand that lined him into position. Laura grunted as his shoulders painfully stretched her asshole for a moment, but by then George could hear nothing.
He was shoved far into the tunnel that wasn’t wide enough for him, and had he been able to draw a breath he would have gotten a lungful of exactly what her shit smelled like. Unable to breathe, however, he only had the peripheral stench of the inside of the beautiful girl’s ass clinging to his useless nostrils.
The only exit from this new hell tightened crushingly on his calves as his leg bones creaked and tried to bend around Laura’s middle finger. Then, the finger vanished, and his feet wiggled helplessly where they hung outside of the tight ring of her anus.
His world rolled side to side as the immense woman he was trapped inside of moved around, and then her fingertips captured his feet and pulled him out slowly, stopping right when his shoulders tried to stretch her sphincter out again.
He shivered, the air of the bedroom a lot colder than the heat inside of her, and then it got much worse as she drizzled gallons of shockingly cold lubricant over the freed parts of his body, dangling in the air between her fingers and asshole.
The cold lube slowly started succumbing to gravity and running over him as he lay in midair unable to move, and then her hand was roughly smearing it around him, working it into his tiny frame.
Completely coated in the greasy anal lube, he was shoved back into her ass, and the grip on his feet changed as Laura pinched both of his feet between her wide thumb and fingers. Then, she started fucking herself with his shrunken body in the new hole.
In and out he slid, but she never pulled him out enough so that his head and shoulders could escape her anal cavity. His arms were pinned by the extreme tightness of her ass tunnel, so much so that even if he had forgotten to keep his arms by his sides, her pitch-black, anal cavity did it for him.
She never changed her pace, just mechanically pistoned him back and forth, over and over.
She shoved him in fast, suddenly, and her asshole squeezed his calves hard.
George mercifully passed out.
******
George awoke to the sound of running water and a hot, humid room.
He groaned, and after a failed attempt, managed to sit himself upright. His entire body was sore, and he had deep, painful bruises on his calves. He noticed, embarrassingly, that his bladder was also empty now.
His skin was agonizingly tender, and smelled strongly of… dish soap? She’d scrubbed him with dish soap? He was sure that he was very unclean after his trip into her backside, but surely he rated at least bar soap, right? More alarmingly though, he didn’t know just how long she’d fucked herself in her ass with his unconscious body. He couldn’t get any air in there at all. He could have died!
From his vantage point on the counter next to the bathroom sink, he could only really see the closed shower curtain, the sink, and the fogged over mirror.
He tried to rub out some of his muscle soreness, but his skin was raw and painful to the touch and the bruises went so deep, it did more harm than good. It was a good learning experience, but he was ready to be done now. George tried to clear his nose with a snort, but it didn’t really help. There was a slightly strong hint of poop clinging in there.
The shower water shut off, and Laura stepped out, grabbing a towel to pat herself dry. Glorious, beautiful, busty, dripping wet and very pregnant, gargantuan Laura.
He cleared his throat, “Laura, I think that I’m ready to be done-“ he cut off as she walked past him without even a glance, opening the bathroom door and letting all of the warm air out. George shivered in the cold, very confused.
After a few minutes, she walked back in, the towel wrapped around her wet hair and only wearing a black bra that was two sizes too small, as she spilled out and over the cups that were valiantly trying but failing to contain the volume of her massive tits.
She picked him up by grasping him tightly around his arms and chest without a word. He looked down past the large finger right under his chin to see her part her cleavage with a thumb and finger, prying the crevice apart.
Laura wedged him down into that gap, letting go of him once his legs were inside and pressing down on his head with a single finger to stuff him down until he was trapped up to his neck between the oppressive, colossal mammaries.
Her breasts squeezed him so tightly that he could barely draw a breath, and what he could inhale was so shallow he couldn’t even make any sounds. Though he wanted to scream and yell, he stayed silent by her effortless force and had a front row seat to what Laura was doing.
He watched helplessly as she walked over to where his clothing still sat in a haphazard pile by the front door, and rummaged through his pockets, coming out with his keys, phone, and wallet.
She rifled through his wallet, taking out all of the cash and his bank card, before simply dropping it, abandoning his wallet back onto his pile of clothes now that it had nothing more of value.
Then, she jiggled and bounced over to the kitchen table, the rippling of the mountainous breasts around him not even capturing George’s attention, before dropping her spoils onto the table.
She pulled a black sharpie marker from an assortment of writing tools inside of a clay cylinder that sat in the center of the table, then she finally pulled her helpless prisoner from the cage of her bosom, setting him down roughly onto the table top.
“Wha-“ George coughed, then tried again. “What the hell Laura! What the fuck is going on?!”
“Oh, pickle,” she said pityingly. “You still have one more craving to satisfy. I did tell you I had cravings, right?”
“What does that… why are you calling me pickle?” George started to break out in a cold sweat as his fear ramped up.
“Because that’s what you are, pickle. When my baby wants ice cream, I eat ice cream. When baby wants anchovies and mustard, I eat anchovies and mustard. When my baby wants a pickle… I eat a pickle,” she said with heavy implication.
“No… no, you can’t be serious. This isn’t funny, Laura.”
She ignored his question. “But first, you are going to tell me the code to this phone and the pin number for this card.”
George hugged himself and tried not to sob as he sat naked on the giantess’s table. “You’re going to kill me. You’re going to kill me and eat me. Why…” George swallowed heavily past the lump in his throat, “Why would I tell you anything?”
“Because, pickle, there are a lot of ways for this to go. There’s the nice way, and that’s the way I like. I swallow you down, and you wiggle in my tummy. The wiggling feels really, really good. After a few minutes, you run out of air, and you drift off to sleep. No pain, just sleepytime.”
“Then there’s the mean way. The mean way involves chewing, pickle. That way isn’t so good for you.”
George lost the battle to control himself and let out a shuddering sob. All he wanted was one night with a woman, just one night! He didn’t want it to be his last.
“See, if you don’t tell me what I need to know, I’m going to tie this bit of string here,” she waggled a four-inch length of sewing string in front of him, “around your arm, and then I’m going to bite it off.”
“Oh God!” George exclaimed, and his body shook violently with fear tremors.
“That’ll really hurt you, Pickle. And I’ll really have to chew it well so your bones don’t cut me up inside. But, to keep from you bleeding all over the place, I’ll have to suck out the meat of the rest of your arm and tighten the knot. That’s the part that really makes pickles scream. I don’t like the taste, and you don’t want that pain, but you can do us both a super-duper favor and tell me the code to my new phone. What is it?”
George opened his mouth, but all that he could do was sob more.
Laura shrugged, uncaringly. “Have it your way.” She started to loop the string around his left bicep, easily holding his hand over his head with a single finger and thumb.
She had the knot tied before George could make his voice box work “Five!” he screamed, hoping she would just stop.
She paused in her motions, “What was that, pickle?”
“Five, five, zero, zero. My phone,” he cried.
Laura tapped in the code to his phone, and seeing it unlock, efficiently went through the settings to set the code to something she could remember. She then pressed the button on the side to re-lock it, and set it off to the side. “And the pin number?”
“Th-The same,” he said defeatedly. George hunched in on himself, and wiped the tears from his eyes.
Laura paused with the black sharpie poised over the back of his bank card. “Are you sure, pickle? Like, really sure? Because if I get to the bank and I find out that you lied to me, I’m going to eat both of your arms before I ask again. You really only need one leg to wiggle like I like.”
George simply nodded, and uncaring about how it looked, dropped to his side and curled into a fetal position, silent sobs racking his frame.
Laura dutifully wrote '5-5-0-0’ on the back of his debit card. “Okay, you and me are going to go to the bank, pickle. Now, good pickles get to ride in the front.” Laura stood up out of her chair, and looked down on him through the valley of her mountainous breasts and over the curve of her bulging belly. She patted her plump pussy lips meaningfully, “They kick their legs and play with my button when I tap them. They don’t move if I don’t tap. If you don’t get me off when I tap you, or you play with me when I don’t want it, or if you fall asleep, then it means that you are a bad pickle.”
Laura turned, showing her profile. Her too-big breasts sat high on her chest, encased in the too-small bra, her bulging baby belly underneath, and her taut, jiggly ass all so very humongous and sexy, and now… absolutely horrifying.
“Bad pickles have to ride in the back,” she continued, slapping her ass cheek and sending the tight flesh into brief movement. “If you turn into a bad pickle, I won’t blink at finding a bathroom and moving you out of the front and into the back, got it?”
George nodded his head where he lay. He couldn’t speak if he wanted to.
“Good. Just have to clean up the wrappers, and we’ll get going.” She picked him up off of the table and shoved him back into her cleavage, the body heat trapped between her giant tits almost scorching him after being naked in the open air for so long.
He unwillingly watched from his entrapment as she scooped up all of his clothing from the floor, picking up his shoes as well, before dumping it all into the drawer of the minimizer.
Then, puzzlingly to him, she picked up her phone, the teal color of it so very different from his black one, and dropped it in as well.
Laura shut the drawer and activated the device, causing the transparent sides of the machine to illuminate from the inside with a soft, blue light. While she waited for it to finish, she bent over, and vigorously scrubbed her hair with the towel that was wrapped on it, trying to get most of the water out of the underside. This set her breasts into such violent motion that poor George was bounced around with them, his neck unsupported unlike the rest of his tightly bound body. He barely escaped breaking it.
Laura reopened the drawer, and scooped the miniaturized contents into a single hand, transferring them to the counter. She reached up into the cabinet above, and pulled down a half-full container of cupcake sprinkles, unscrewing the top.
She very carefully dug out the now-tiny teal phone from the pile with her nails, and dropped it into the sprinkles. When she brought it closer to George’s vantage point to twist the cap back on, George could see that the contents weren’t sprinkles at all, but rather miniaturized phones in a myriad of different colors, only seeming to be confectionery at anything other than a very close inspection.
Up until that point, he’d still had a little hope that maybe this was all just a joke taken too far, or even a sick con game to get what little money he had. But that container… there must have been hundreds of phones in there.
It was all really happening. It was all really happening, and the woman who’s cleavage he was trapped inside of was going to literally eat him alive. The beautiful, simple-seeming, innocent looking girl was going to just swallow him down, like he was a tasty treat and not a living, breathing person. Just like she’d done to the owners of every one of those phones. Every. Single. One.
He started to hyperventilate as the doom set in. His life expectancy was measured in minutes now. Perhaps hours, but certainly not any more than that.
“This can’t be happening,” he wheezed quietly, too quietly for his captor to hear. He watched as one by one, she lifted articles of his clothing to her mouth, chewing them roughly with a grimace before heavily swallowing it and reaching for the next.
She was smart, he’d give her that. He’d been completely taken in by her brainless act. As overwhelmed and terrified as he was, he could still put the pieces together. It actually helped take his mind away from his upcoming demise.
She chewed and swallowed his clothing. They would never be found. The only evidence left that he was ever here was his car, which she had the keys to, and his phone, which would probably join the others in the sprinkles container once she had her next victim. Any signal it put out would be impossibly weak, too weak to track. Anyone trying to find a pattern of disappearances linked to a single phone was out of luck, she obviously used the last victim’s phone to snare the next.
No one would ever find his body, or know what had happened to him. No one would ever discover that he was lured into the den of a beautiful yet cunning and cannibalistic psychopath who ate hundreds of people alive and blamed it on pregnancy cravings. Laura made sure he saw her completely erase any trace of his ever being there, and how there was absolutely no chance of rescue.
He didn’t have much fight left in him, his sanity almost completely shattered by the horror of what was happening to him. He had just enough willpower remaining to try keep his end as painless as possible.
******
Laura tightly twisted the sprinkle container closed and carefully placed it back on the highest shelf of the cupboard. You couldn’t just throw batteries and phones away, no matter how small they were. That would be bad for the environment!
She picked the tiny pair of pants out of the pile and brought it to her mouth. She hated this part. She was craving that pickle so bad, but she couldn’t eat it until she knew for sure that she had the right number for her new bank card. Eating the pickle wrappers would hold that craving at bay while she ran her errands. She especially hated chewing the shoes, those were the worst.
Once she’d swallowed down all of the wrappers, she headed to her bedroom to get herself dressed. She pulled on a pair of cotton panties almost all of the way up, and placed a panty-liner in the crotch of it. If she got bored and tapped her pickle too many times, she might leak through her pants. That would be so humiliating.
She pulled her pickle from the divide between her boobies. One of the fun things about having super big boobies was you could carry a lot of stuff in them, and not have to use your hands or pockets or anything. She bent her pickle and coaxed its legs up inside of her hoo-ha, cradling the rest of it between her lips and against her button with a cupped hand as she struggled to pull her panties the rest of the way up with her free hand. She wiggled them tight against her, and stepped into her maternity jeans, pulling the tight denim snug as well.
She carefully checked her crotch in the full-length mirror for suspicious bulges, but it looked flat and natural. No one would be able to tell she had a pickle in there.
She put on a tight, low-cut T-shirt on over her bra, making sure her cleavage was showing. The best thing about being pregnant was her super-big boobies got even bigger and super-er, even if she couldn’t find a bra that actually fit. Why was life so hard like that?
Her new ATM card went into her billfold with the others, and that went into her purse with her new phone. She loved getting new things! Yay! She couldn’t believe how quickly she’d cracked her last phone. Or the one before that. Or... well, she had to get a new phone everyday. They should make them way tougher.
She tucked her hair into a baseball cap, slipped on a pair of sunglasses, and shrugged into her windbreaker jacket. Checking to make sure she had everything, she made her way out to the apartment complex's parking lot.
The silver Honda Civic was still parked where it was when she watched it arrive. She sat herself into the seat, and had to move the seat forward to actually drive it. She turned the key in the ignition, and gave her crotch a double-tap. She wished she had her own car, that would be nice. She kept losing the ones she found for some reason.
The pickle kicked its legs inside of her and moved her button around, and she moaned quietly, squeezing her boobies hard just once, then she pulled on her driving gloves and drove out of the parking lot.
She pulled up next to an ATM kiosk, and pulled out her billfold, removing the first card. ‘George Hanneman', the front said, and she turned it over to see ‘5-5-0-0’ written on the back. She withdrew $300, the daily limit on most cards, and stuffed the cash into her purse, the card back into her billfold, and checked the balance remaining on the receipt.
She crumpled the receipt up and tossed it to the floor boards. She had days before she needed to worry about that card running low. The next card had a receipt wound around it, and she unfolded it to find there was only a little over $120 left in this account.
The name on the front was 'Kathryn Giovanni’, and on the back was written '6-3-6-5’. She withdrew the $120, tossed the card to the passenger seat, and crumpled up the new receipt with the old one. They joined the first on the floor boards.
The next card she pulled out had 'Jerome Washington' on the front, and on the back were two scribbled out codes, '4-7-7-7’, and two distinctly separate brown splatters of dried tiny arterial sprays. She frowned cutely as it was the dried blood, rather than the name on the card that reminded her of the pickle she had with breakfast yesterday. She withdrew another $300.
That pickle had been awful. By the time she actually got to eat it, it didn’t have anything left to wiggle with. That made her sad.
Laura rolled her window back up, tapped her pickle again, and drove off. She had a lot more ATMs to visit. They just didn’t keep enough money in them.
******
Laura parked at the shopping mall, and rolled all of the windows down in her new Civic. It sure was hot lately, and being pregnant made being hot awful! She made sure she had her purse, that all of her withdrawals were in it, and the few bank cards that didn’t even have $20 were left on the passenger seat and not in her purse. She’d worry about those later, but if she mixed them up with the good cards in her billfold it would be really frustrating. She left the keys in the ignition so she wouldn’t lose them and waddled into the nice air conditioning of the mall.
She picked up some cute maternity pants and tops that fit over her super-big boobies and tummy, and some more of the shampoo she liked so much. When she went back out to the parking lot, the car wasn’t where she parked it anymore. Why did this keep happening to her?
Laura unlocked her new phone and called the local taxi company’s number by memory to get picked up at a different entrance than the one she entered. She wasn’t waiting outside in the heat if she didn’t have to, so she’d walk through the mall in the air conditioning, and when she got to the other side, the taxi would be there! She just didn’t trust Uber or Lyft drivers. Glancing around and seeing no one was paying her any attention, she covertly patted her crotch, signaling the pickle trapped in her panties to get her off again. Who knew what kind of psycho she’d get from Uber, right?
She bit her lip softly as her pickle brought her to orgasm again. She paid it little attention otherwise, and waddled through the mall to the other side in the nice, cool air. The time in the taxicab back home was whiled away with orgasm after orgasm, even though her pickle was slowing down.
******
Laura pouted at the directions on the side of the microwavable instant mashed potatoes. Cooking was hard. She carefully peeled one of the corners of the plastic wrap back, and set it in the microwave to cook for three minutes. Done! Mashed potatoes and a pickle for supper. Her stomach growled angrily, and she stroked her distended belly soothingly. “Just a few more minutes, baby. Pickle’s on its way.”
She loosened her jeans, and reached down into her panties to get her pickle out. Oh, ewww, she got it all gooey. She brought it over to the sink, turned on the water, and started rinsing it off.
The pickle started screaming, and she rolled her eyes. The water wasn’t that cold. She gave it one more rinse, and brought it to her face to smell it. Yeah, that’s okay to eat.
She absentmindedly licked the dripping water off of her pickle while she looked for the wrap in the silverware drawer. Ah! There it is!
******
George was too exhausted to even try to fend off her tongue as the giant woman licked him all over his body.
Having to bring her to orgasm over and over, and surviving the deluge of pussy juice and girl-cum after each one, all the while being pressed too tightly against her hard clit… it took everything he had to keep going, just so he didn’t have to ride in the back.
When she ran him under the cold, cold tap water right after spending what felt like hours in her hot box it almost sent him into shock. He screamed at the pain, not that it mattered to the uncaring, monstrous girl.
She stuffed him halfway into her mouth and held him there tightly with her pursed lips, his exhausted legs weakly kicking from where they hung outside of her drooling mouth, and then he felt something being rolled up over his feet. Very, very tightly.
Laura pulled him from her mouth, held his arms down, and continued rolling it up and past his face, over his head. It was a green-tinted sausage casing, and once she had him completely inside of it, she spun his entire body, winding the top closed. George got dizzy enough to be sick, had he anything in his stomach. Suddenly, calling him a pickle made a cruel sense, seeing as how his world was now tinted green.
He missed how she sealed it, but when she cut him from the rest of the rolled up tubing with a scissor, the tip stayed closed. His prison was porous, and he could breathe, but he couldn’t move except for a weak wobble.
Laura, the gorgeous cannibal, dangled him in front of her face by the top of the casing, and smiled happily at him. It wasn’t the happy smile of one person seeing another, he realized. It was the happy smile of a hungry girl who was seeing her favorite meal, and George broke down into deep, wracking sobs.
She laid him down onto a plate, and spooned steaming mashed potatoes onto the other side from a disposable black plastic container. George could only watch, immobile and helpless, as she got herself a bottle of water and a half-empty bottle of ketchup from her refrigerator and moved both them and the plate he was trapped on to the kitchen table.
He shook in fear, unable to look away, as she spooned the hill of mashed potatoes into her ravenous maw, one scoop at a time. Every pass of the spoon brought him that much closer to his death.
She didn’t even look at him. She would pull the spoon from her closed lips, clean and shining, and scoop up another pile of white fluff, only for that to also disappear behind that beautiful mouth. Not once did she ever acknowledge that laying on her dinner plate was a living man who had hopes and dreams. She truly only did see him as a 'pickle'. Just a part of her meager supper.
He turned his head as much as he could, and watched in deep terror as she scraped the very last of the potatoes from his side. The sound of the metal spoon on the plate was a loud death-knell.
Her eyes turned to him excitedly, and George's mind finally shattered under all of the fear and stress. Maybe he really was a pickle? Was the life of George Hanneman only a cruel dream? He couldn’t have ever been a man, he decided. Men don’t get eaten, and pickles do. It was a pleasant dream, pickle supposed, but pickles are meant to be eaten. That’s their purpose.
Pickle watched as beautiful Laura upended the ketchup bottle and squirted it loudly into a huge pile right next him. Pickles and ketchup? Well, she was pregnant, and who was a pickle to judge how she ate him?
Laura gripped pickle by the top of his casing, and dragged him into the ketchup pile, turning him over and coating him completely. It was very cold, but as a pickle, he was supposed to be used to cold.
She then lifted him into the air, and the ketchup drifted down his casing enough that he could see her face. She frowned at him, and looked down at herself. Was there something wrong with him? Why wasn’t she eating him? Oh no, what happened to pickles that people didn’t eat?
Laura put him back down on the plate, in the slop of the cold ketchup. He watched and tiredly shivered as she wiped her hands with a napkin, before pulling her shirt over her head, reaching behind herself to take off her bra, and loosening and taking off her pants.
Clad in only a pair of panties, her impressive, full breasts wobbling, she reached for him again, and lifted him up to dangle high above her up-turned face. Drops of red liquid rained down from his dangling form to splatter on her perfect skin, marring the pristine condition of her perfect breasts and face with drips of ketchup that looked an awful lot like blood splatters.
“Remember to wiggle!” the Goddess Laura admonished him, and pickle silently promised to. Pickles didn’t talk, after all. Then, her perfect tongue extended, guiding his feet into her perfect mouth, and past her perfect teeth.
He was somewhat lucky, pickle thought, to be eaten by someone as breathtakingly perfect as Laura. The ketchup coating him eased his passage into her throat. When his waist was past her teeth, she closed her full, plump lips around his body, and slurped him inside and down her gullet with immense suction.
He moved very quickly through her throat after that. Her powerful esophageal muscles convulsed and drug him quickly down to drop into the digesting slop in her perfect, glorious stomach. Remembering his promise, pickle wiggled for all he was worth, bucking his hips and dolphin-kicking his bound legs. It was all the wiggling he could do.
Pickle didn’t know what he expected to happen after he was eaten, but he should have expected the overpowering vomit smell of her digestive tract. Her stomach squeezed and churned him in the stew of digestive fluids and mashed potatoes, and the loud gurgling of digesting food was deafening.
Stomach acid seeped through the pores in the sausage casing, and still pickle kicked and wiggled with all of his might. His breath grew short and shallow, and he started to get very sleepy. His wiggling tapered off, and pickle fell asleep for the last time.
George Hanneman was no longer breathing when Laura’s stomach acid finally started to eat through his skin.
******
Laura dipped her pickle in the ketchup, rolling it around to get it all good and ketchup-y, and lifted it to dangle it into her mouth. She was really, really craving this pickle.
Laura frowned as the ketchup didn’t stick like she’d hoped, and dripped down to splatter on the plate. She looked down at her clothes. She liked this top! Ketchup would stain her clothes, and then she would have to throw them out.
Laura put her pickle back down on her plate, and thoroughly cleaned the ketchup from her fingers with a napkin. She quickly pulled off her top, and thought hard, staring at her own cleavage. She liked this bra, too.
She took off her bra, and her pants as well. There! Now she could eat her pickle without ruining her clothes! She picked her pickle back up on the very end of it with her fingertips, and held it above her face. It was so much easier to swallow it down with her head tilted back.
What was she forgetting? Oh! “Remember to wiggle!” she reminded the pickle. That really was the best part. She opened up her mouth, and guided the dripping bottom of the pickle into her mouth with her tongue. The ketchup splattered all over her, and she sure was glad she was smart enough to strip down to her panties.
She slid the pickle to the back of her throat, and when she felt like she was going to start gagging, she closed her mouth around it and slurped it down like a big yummy spaghetti noodle but, you know, covered in ketchup.
The pickle started to wiggle really good, and within seconds her orgasm started. She didn’t know why the wiggling in her tummy made her cum constantly until the movement stopped, but it did and she didn’t question it.
For long minutes, she squeezed her super-big boobies and her hoo-ha clenched and creamed. Part way through, she started wailing at the intense pleasure.
When the wiggling died down, she took stock of herself and sighed, exasperated. She’d smeared the ketchup all over her boobies, and soaked through her panties to the point that it spilled over the chair and trickled to the floor. She was such a mess! Her hoo-ha ached from too much strain, but it was so worth it. The entire kitchen smelled strongly like wet hoo-ha.
Laura bounced out of the chair cheerfully to take another shower, and get really, squeaky-clean again before sleepy time.
******
Laura woke slowly the next morning and sleepily cuddled her body pillow. She softly belched, and the coppery taste of blood bubbled up out of her throat, making her grimace. That was the worst part of eating pickles. The after-pickle burps.
Lovingly, she stroked the tight skin on her large belly. “Good morning, baby,” she cooed. Her stomach growled loudly back at her.
“Another pickle, you greedy girl? You just had one!” she exclaimed. Her stomach growled again, lower in pitch. “Fine, fine. Let me order out, okay?”
She scooped up her new phone, frowning at the screen already cracking in the corner, and loaded up the application she used yesterday. It was super lucky how her new phones always had this app! She took a selfie of her super-big boobies and tummy, and set up the ad.
'Pregnant and so having morning cravings,’ she wrote, and then thought for a moment, chewing on her hair. She then added, 'narrow shoulders are a huge turn on.’
Pressing the ‘post ad' button, she dropped the phone to her duvet and hopped out of bed energetically, off to brush her teeth and work her hair back into order. Maybe take an altoid.
In the empty bedroom, the late George Hanneman’s phone beeped with a notification that the posted personal ad had a new reply.
Then another.
And another…
Giantess World
Story Notes:
Horror vore with a shrunken man