“Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.” - Leonardo da Vinci

“I still don’t see why you expect me to boycott shrinkies.”

Far from lowering her eyes or taking a retreating step, Denise Lindner met the three gazes currently leveled upon her with folded arms, lips pressed together into a thin line, and defiance written across her face. She tossed her hair, causing the long honey-colored locks to flick away from her face so her two siblings could get the unadulterated brunt of her indignation. She fired a challenging glare of her own at her sister.

“Have you not been paying attention to what has happened over the past six months? I almost ate Oliver. Our friend!” Incredulity dripped from every word spoken by Denise’s elder sister, Miriam. She extended one hand towards the computer table in indication of where a tiny man sat atop a tall stack of thick books piled upon the office desk. When perched upon the bookstack, the diminutive human was nearly at eye level with his friends, provided they were sitting down.

Denise and Miriam’s brother Julian pulled a headphone away from one ear in order to hear his sisters, the jerky motion of his hand belying his irritation. A small silver microphone sat on the desk before him, positioned just between his computer keyboard and the screen. Another microphone was on the stack of books, pointing down at the shrunken man atop the pile. Julian shot the miniscule person a grimace that was half apology, half frustration.

The shrunken man was a fellow by the name of Oliver Keller. He and Julian were in the midst of recording their latest episode of their podcast, “Surviving Vortex.” Each episode discussed a different facet of Oliver’s experience in being kidnapped, shrunk down, and ultimately sold as food by a company called Vortex Foods. The company’s public affairs offices had always informed the public that Vortex only did this to deserving criminals or other undesirable and nonproductive members of society. Oliver Keller was quick to remind listeners that he had no criminal record, had been gainfully employed, and was largely well regarded in his hometown.

It was a recurring point with Oliver that if he could be shrunk and sold by Vortex then it could happen to anyone. As a result, the podcast frequently discussed Vortex’s lack of oversight and prioritizing profit over any culpability of the people whom it shrank and sold as food.

Vortex claimed that only criminals and degenerates were ever shrunk down to be sold as food had been repeatedly challenged by Oliver and Julian’s podcast. The two young men had accused Vortex of failing to properly check people’s criminal history before shrinking them, as was representative of Oliver’s case.

Miriam had been the one who had very nearly devoured their lifelong friend and neighbor. She had realized it was him at the very last moment before she had planned to toss him into her mouth a moment later. Shouting her name had made her take a second glance at the tiny person she had held between finger and thumb. Her eyes had widened when she realized that she held one of her closest friends, a friend she’d been a hair’s breadth from devouring as a midafternoon snack.

Once Miriam had recognized Oliver, she had of course, been unable to eat her friend. Instead, the young woman had quickly brought him to her brother Julian. They sat together and listened to Oliver’s account of being captured by Vortex outside a convenience store several days earlier.

Upon hearing the story of their friend, both siblings had vowed abstinence from eating Vortex shrinkies. After informing their parents of this near disaster, Ulrike and Wolfgang Lindner had been equally shocked to learn young Oliver Keller had somehow ended up in their daughter’s shrinkie box. They joined in their children’s resolution to never eat shrinkies. After all, Vortex promised to shrink only criminals and lowlifes, and as practically everyone in the neighborhood knew that Oliver Keller was no criminal.

The only dissent against the family boycott came from Denise, the youngest child. A student of business at the local university, she considered Oliver’s predicament to be more of a fluke than proof of a depraved plot by an evil corporation. After all, Vortex had reduced worldwide crime and terrorism by all accounts. Accordingly, Denise had been the lone member of the Lindner family to consume the few remaining shrinkies in the box that Miriam had abandoned after discovering Oliver.

That had been months ago. Since then, Denise still hadn’t altered her position about eating shrinkies. She was even openly hostile about the podcast, which she viewed as a ridiculous waste of time. “One of the company’s Public Affairs representatives has admitted that Vortex has made mistakes in the past. She held a whole press conference about it. You can look her up on the internet, I think her name’s Madison Graves. No one’s ever denied it,” Denise said for perhaps the tenth time. She looked down her nose at her two siblings and miniscule neighbor, her mild tone hardening to a note of defiance in the last few words.

“But they shrunk Oliver. How could anyone confuse him with being a criminal?” Julian pulled the second headphone away from his ear in order to listen to his sister’s response. “There’s not an immoral bone in his body.”

“Of course there isn’t. I would never accuse Oliver of any illicit act. He’s a dear friend to us all.” Denise replied, her tone a shade softer. She flashed a small smile in the shrunken man’s direction before turning back to her elder brother. The hard edge returned in her voice. “But this isn’t indicative of an evil conspiracy. His presence in that box was simply a mistake. Yes, it ought to have never happened and I’m incredibly relieved dear Oliver is alright, but that doesn’t give us the right to accuse Vortex of shrinking whomever they want. The average person in a Vortex box is a criminal, a lowlife, or a societal drain and deserves to be there.”

Julian rolled his eyes again. “And who told you this, Denise? Vortex? How can anyone trust what they say? They’re not going to admit to anything that might impact their bottom line.”

Oliver was too tiny to be heard across the room, so his remarks were directed into the microphone positioned on the desk. The sound equipment was sensitive enough to catch his words, amplify them, then project it through the computer speakers.

“That’s not true and you know it, Denise. Vortex isn’t to be trusted. Don’t believe their lies.”

All three siblings turned to look at Oliver in surprise, taken aback by this sudden break from his customary laissez-faire attitude towards nearly everything. The words were spoken with such vehemence that they almost seemed out of place when uttered in his voice. Oliver continued his thoughts in a more measured tone.

“If it happened to me, then it is happening to others. There are other innocents out there in other boxes.” The shrunken man slapped his fist into an open palm. “People who don’t deserve the fate that awaits them, Denise.”

Denise raised her hands, her hard look returning. “Okay, okay. But that goes back to the point that I have just finished making. Everyone knows that once in a very great while some innocent people end up in shrinkie boxes. Like I said, that’s not a secret. Vortex literally admits this happens on infrequent occasions. Extremely, infrequent occasions” She emphasized as she turned to look at the shrinkie atop the bookstack. “Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m ever so sorry this happened to you, Oliver. If ever someone didn’t deserve to be shrunk down, it would be you.”

Denise turned back to her siblings once more and continued in a firmer tone. “But I refuse to admit that their numbers are more than one in… what’s the official figure? A million? Ten million? And I don’t see why everyone in the family is upset with me just because I haven’t given up eating shrinkies. I signed that ineffective petition you three drew up. Maybe if you keep getting more signatures, Vortex really will agree to allow more transparency in the selection of who they shrink. But nobody in this household or anywhere else gets to dictate or judge my dietary choices.”

Miriam sighed, not only at her younger sister’s obstinance but also at the mention of their petition. It hadn’t gotten nearly as many signatures as they had hoped. She and Julian had tried standing outside local grocers and large supermarkets, requesting patrons’ signatures on more stringent rules for Vortex when it came to shrinking people. Despite a sustained effort, their signatures numbered below several dozen. Miriam had hoped more of the several hundred podcast subscribers would have signed the online petition against Vortex by now, but perhaps that would come with time.

It had been Julian’s idea to create a website. After that, it was a short step to making videos, and ultimately beginning a podcast outlining Oliver’s experience. In the podcast, they highlighted that they had found their friend in a Vortex box. They showed how the local police department had no record of wrongdoing, and they even posted the Vortex legal office’s dismissive reply to their letter that Oliver be returned to his original size. The Surviving Vortex website was still in its beginning stages, but it was starting to attract attention. And the podcast really was taking off. Coincidently, a Vortex exposé called ‘Deception Unmasked’ had recently made the rounds online as well. The documentary went into detail about the number of people with no criminal history or other negative social qualities that were shrunk and sold in Vortex boxes every year.

After watching the documentary, Miriam had been inspired to participate in her brother’s most recent podcast episode. She had described how she had eaten more than half the box of Vortex shrinkies before coming across Oliver. She’d actually been about to put him in her mouth when she had realized the shrinkie was screaming her full name. Recounted almost eating Oliver had left both Miriam and Oliver in tears. Oliver had recalled watching her devour person after screaming person, wondering when he would be next. He had discussed observing Miriam swallow a screaming woman whole right before bringing him into her mouth. He tried to convey the sense of doom that had accompanied this act; explaining how he’d called out her name in the forlorn hope that it might attract her attention, even as her mouth opened wide before him. The decision had saved him of course. Now Miriam and the rest of the Lindner family were all looking out for Oliver. At the end of the episode, Miriam had vehemently chastised Vortex Foods marketing campaigns that emphasized shrinkies’ nutritional value, touting that they could enhance one’s figure. Miriam had identified that this was the reason she’d eaten so many shinkies in the first place.

“They market themselves to people, particularly to young people who want to ‘eat healthy and build a strong, fit physique.’” She had spat the words into the microphone as if they were a curse. “I bought into that retail absurdity for years. In so doing, I ate goodness knows how many people. Here is the truth; anyone can build the body they want without eating Vortex. All that company offers is wholesale murder. Nobody should enhance their physique at the expense of innocent lives.” This last podcast episode had finally resulted in at least some attention. There had been a newspaper reporter who had interviewed Oliver and Miriam. Another more mainstream political podcast had invited Julian, Miriam, and Oliver to participate in a discussion. It had been an enormous boost to the three friends. Word of their message was finally beginning to spread.

Therefore, it was frustrating to all of them that such an obstinate redoubt of defiance to their message was entrenched within their very home.

The petite and pretty Denise stared at them with neither encouragement nor appreciation. The three friends stared back.

“If you want to eat shrinkies, then do it away from us. We have important business to attend to. Like saving innocent lives.” Julian turned away from Denise and strapped his headphones firmly back in place. Miriam likewise turned her back on her sister and sat down at the computer table. She picked up her own headphones and put them on. The message to Denise was clear; we’re not listening to you anymore.

With a shake of her head and a shrug of her shoulders, Denise turned away from them and walked into the living room. Her father was in his favorite chair, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand, a laptop computer balanced on his knees. He was engaged in his favorite pastime, online chess. Denise’s mother had her feet up on the couch and was reading a magazine with a picture of the fitness model Anastazja Kamińska on the cover, her face a contortion of disapproval.

“They say they don’t like that I still eat shrinkies,” Denise complained aloud to no one in particular. She flung herself onto the couch beside her mother with a sigh. “I don’t see how they can’t understand that mistakes happen. That’s what happened to Oliver, a mistake. This isn’t some soulless company conspiracy.”

Wolfgang looked up from his chess game. “Oliver Keller has been Julian’s best friend their entire life. They were at school together. And you and Miriam also have been his friend. You must understand, dear, they are trying to protect Oliver, and people like him.”

Her mother laid the magazine aside. “Perhaps it’s best not to fight them on this subject, even if you do decide to continue eating those little shrunken people. Though I really wish you wouldn’t. I was just reading an article that says many innocents-”

Just then there was a knock at the front door. Her father turned to look at her. “Princess, would you see who is at the door? I’m right in the middle of a chess speed match.” Denise sighed, getting back to her feet. Opening the door, she found a burly man and a tall, fierce looking woman standing outside. They both wore black uniforms that bore a vortex logo over their left breast pocket.

The man consulted a data pad in one hand. He held it up as if comparing her to a picture on the screen. In a gruff voice he asked, “You’re… Denise Lindner?”

Denise nodded. “Yes. That’s right.”

The man appeared to hesitate for a moment, but the tall woman withdrew a gun-like object from a holster on her belt and pointed it at Denise. “Doesn’t matter which one she is. We’re to take the whole family.”

Denise fell back a step, her hands coming up between her and the aggressive woman. “Hey what’s the big idea-“ Denise didn’t finish her question. There was a sudden flash of light. Then everything went hazy for a while.

Hungry Skies

A Vortex Foods Story

***

Rosalie

Grocery store

8:24 PM CET

Rosalie hurried through the aisles of the grocery store; her sneakers pitter pattered on the clear, clean linoleum. Her green eyes darted this way and that, taking in the colorful displays of neatly stacked produce; the towering shelves lined with boxes and cans, and the brightly lit signs advertising various products in German, dismissing each as quickly as the last. Her ears were filled with a cacophony of sounds - the hum of the refrigerators, the beep of the checkout scanners, the rustling of bags, and the clinking of carts as people pass by, all to the low undertone of classical music piped gently through the speakers. It sounded like Mozart, but Rosalie couldn’t be certain.

People of all ages were in the store, some deep in thought as they perused the shelves, others chatted casually with friends or family members. The scents of fresh baked bread and cooking meats wafted through the air, mingling with the sharp tang of cleaning chemicals from an employee mopping the floor. A sweet perfume of fresh flowers hung around a flower stand where orchids, pansies, and roses were available for purchase.

As Rosalie’s green eyes finally settled upon her objective, her pace unconsciously quickened and the tempo of her sneakers upon the floor increased by half a measure. Exiting the long isle of snacks and candies, she navigated through a loose group of shoppers clustered around the soda display.

There was the sound of a squeaking wheel and a rattling off to her left. Rosalie jumped aside, narrowly avoiding collision with an errant shopping cart whizzing by at a reckless velocity. It was piloted by a carefree young boy who clung with both hands from the back. As he shot past, the grinning youth kicked the ground like he was riding a skateboard, propelling the cart speedily onward. An angry mother hurried in the child’s wake half a second later. Her arms were outstretched in a desperate attempt to grab the youth. A moment later the mother caught up with her son, stopped the cart, and sharply berated the lad in a scathing Teutonic reprimand.

Meanwhile, Rosalie had stepped past them and finally stood before her goal. She reached out to take it from the shelf.

The item in question was a box by Vortex Foods. It was a small package, containing a dozen shrunken human beings, known as “shrinkies” for short. Being a snack that was both healthy enough that she didn’t feel guilty about eating too many of them, and squirmy enough to be fun when swallowing them, shrinkies were Rosalie’s snack of choice for long flights.

Her hand was closing around the very last Vortex box on the shelf. But at the same instant another hand reached for that same box. Rosalie looked up, startled.

The owner of the other hand was a stunningly good-looking woman, perhaps in her late thirties. Her straight back and unwavering gaze lent her an air of confidence and relaxed sophistication. In terms of appearance, she had short blonde hair that didn’t reach as far as her shoulders but framed her face. Her bright blue eyes were sharp and inquisitive. They scanned Rosalie, first with mild surprise, then in confident curiosity. Rosalie looked back. The woman’s manner of dress was relaxed, with brown shoes, jeans that hugged powerful legs, a white blouse, and a thin gold chain around a graceful neck. A diamond sparkled on her ring finger.

The other woman hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering with a hint of disappointment, but then she gave Rosalie a gracious smile. Relinquishing her grasp on the box she gestured to Rosalie to take it.

"Please, go ahead," she said in German, her voice warm and kind. "I already have two more boxes in my cart. This is the last one in the store so it would be most unfair if I were to take them. They are quite popular.” Then she paused for a moment, and chuckled. “Especially since the recent advertisement of that woman Anastazja Kamińska in that rather bawdy commercial." Both women turned to survey the empty shelves that had held Vortex boxes. All of the shelves marked with the Vortex logo lay bare.

Rosalie looked uncertainly at the other woman. “Are you certain you do not wish to take this box, ma’am?” She asked in heavily accented German. “You seem to need many shrinkies.” Her eyes drifted to the other two boxes in the other woman’s cart.

The German woman waved the idea off before Rosalie could finish her sentence. “I normally purchase the extra large boxes. My daughter and I eat a number of them each week, but it seems the grocery store is sold out of the large boxes today. I was buying a few personal sized boxes to tide us over for now. They won’t last the week so I shall have to come back for more in a day or so regardless. Please, I insist that you take the final box.” Rosalie smiled. “You are extremely kind. You see, I am a flight attendant.” She lifted the box of shrinkies in indication, sending the tiny people into an outcry of frenzied panic. “These are to be a snack for the flight home tomorrow.”

The German woman’s eyes narrowed as if trying to place something. “You work for Sky France?” The woman had identified Rosalie verbal cadence and inflections and had correctly pegged her as a native French speaker. But to the conjecture of her employment, Rosalie shook her head.

“No ma’am. A good guess based upon my accent, but I work for Sky Canada.” She lifted the box that the woman had relinquished, causing the dozen shrinkies inside to stumble back and forth within the confines of their tiny individual compartments. “These will be the perfect snack for tomorrow’s flight back to Canada. Plenty of protein, and they don’t go bad quickly, so you don’t have to eat them all at once.”

“Then is one box enough?” The blonde woman turned to point to the other two boxes she had in her cart. “Would you like to take a second box from my cart? As I said before, I shall have to return for more tomorrow on the way home from work.”

Rosalie shook her head. “One box is more than enough for me, ma’am. But thank you very much for your charitable offer.” “Of course. I hope you enjoyed your brief time here in Germany. Have a safe return flight,” The woman returned the young Canadian’s smile.

The attractive German turned back to her cart and gently pushed it to the next isle, where she selected crackers to go with the cheese, wine and the shrinkies she had already picked out.

Rosalie waved goodbye to the other woman, then hurried to the checkout counter. It was getting on towards evening and she wanted to make sure she got enough sleep. After all, it would be a long flight tomorrow.

***

Miriam

Grocery store

8:24 PM CET

Miriam Lindner was not in a pleasant mood. Being shrunk down to be sold as food was a trying concept for anyone. She kept expecting to wake up, lying atop her soft mattress in her one room apartment back at home. Up until yesterday, Miriam had been a successful accountant at a local marketing firm. She had a semi-serious boyfriend, a career, and even had a retirement savings account.

She wasn’t food. She hadn’t done anything to deserve to be shrunk. Nothing aside from being a participant of a podcast whose sole purpose was criticism of Vortex, of course. As soon as she had awoken in the restrictive confines of the plastic box, Miriam had logically realized what must have happened. She had been shrunk down in size. The Vortex corporation had arrested, no they had kidnapped her along with her entire family merely because she was highlighting damaging facts about the company.

She remembered having been shrunk by that Vortex collection team, taken to a processing plant, and then… Then she had come to her senses in a box, already on a shelf in what appeared to be a typical supermarket. Looking around, she saw it was the same supermarket at which she shopped for her own groceries. Up until a few months ago, she had even purchased many of the shrinkies she had eaten here. It was hard to so quickly adjust to the idea that now she was considered groceries.

It had not been a comfort to look through the transparent plastic diving herself from the next cell over and discover her elder brother Julian was looking back at her. “Miriam! You’re finally awake. Are you okay?” His voice was muted through the thick sheet of plastic that separated their separate cells. When she didn’t immediately respond, Julian leaned closer and peered at her with his hands pressed against the plastic wall between them. “Are you alright?” “Yes, I-I’m fine.” Miriam tried to make her voice sound as normal as she could and failed miserably. Meeting her brother’s gaze was one thing but sounding normal was something else. She placed a trembling hand against the plastic where his was pressing against the other side. “I’m fine, Julian.” This time, she willed more control into her wavering tone and was rewarded with her own voice sounding more confident, more herself.

The next cell past Julian held another familiar face. Oliver waved to her, looking almost embarrassed. Miriam waved back. Then she turned from Julian and Oliver to look at the world around them once more.

The vast supermarket stretched to an unimaginable distance. Humans now seemed taller than skyscrapers. And now to every one of those giants, she would be considered food. “Vortex!” She spat the word like a curse, the very sound tasting poisonous. They had done this. They had shrunk her, and her brother and… “Mama? Papa?” The words came out as a screech; half terror, half disbelief. They were there too; her own parents were in plain sight right before her. They waved back to Denise, excitedly signaling that for now at least, they were alright. Healthy or not, it didn’t change the fact that Miriam’s mother, father, and sister Denise were all inside a Vortex box, a differentVortex box from her own. Theirs was directly adjacent to the one that held Miriam, her brother Julian, and their friend Oliver. Tears ran down Miriam’s face as she realized that the entire family had been captured, shrunk, and sold as Vortex shrinkies.

“Mama? Papa? Denise? Why? Why did they shrink you? None of you had anything to do with the podcast.” She pounded her fist on the sheet of plastic between herself and her family. Using all her might, she tried to batter down the barrier that held her so she could reach them.

It wasn’t any good. The wall of her corner cell held firm. From what at her current scale would be several meters away, her mother, her father, and her younger sister looked morosely back at her from the confines of their own cells in the adjacent Vortex box.

“This is all my fault,” Miriam moaned. She gave a searching look to her parents, at a loss of what to do. Seeing the hurt in her daughter’s eyes, her mother began to sob. Her father seemed to have read her lips and understood what she’d said. He shook his head as if to refute the idea that this was her fault. Then he looked lovingly at her, a picture of stoic bravery. Two cells away, Denise seemed to be shouting something, urgent to tell her… something. But Miriam couldn’t hear a word. The sound of her voice didn’t carry through the double walls of plastic that separated them. She could only see her sister trying to mouth some message, but she couldn’t make out what it was. It was then that Denise pointed.

Before Miriam could turn to see what her sister was pointing at, a hand descended upon the box holding Miriam’s parents and sister. She watched as their box was lifted far into the air. Miriam watched as the box that held her parents and sister seemed to travel a staggeringly long distance in the blink of an eye. Miriam, Julian and Oliver looked up from the respective cells in their box to see a woman standing over them. She was perhaps in her late thirties, with short blonde hair and deep blue eyes. The woman was in good shape, as displayed by her simple white blouse and jeans that spoke volumes of the fit body beneath. The woman deposited the box holding Miriam’s parents and sister into her cart. The box was half dropped into the cart, impacting the bottom with a clang. The sound Miriam wince. What must that have felt like to her poor parents and sister? Then the attractive giantess turned and reached towards Miriam’s box.

If this woman takes all of us, then at least we’ll be together, Miriam thought to herself.

Just as the blonde woman reached her hand out and grabbed Miriam’s box, another hand fell upon it. Miriam looked up in shock and horror to see another woman standing over them. Being so focused on the blonde woman, Miriam hadn’t noticed this brunette lady appear from the other side of the box. The two giant women holding Miriam’s box straightened up and immediately began to talk. Miriam looked from one woman to the other, feeling like a swimmer caught between two gigantic sharks. The voices of the giantesses carried far more easily than those of her fellow shrinkies. While Miriam had been unable to hear the cries of her parents and sister through two boxes, she clearly heard every word exchanged between the enormous women towering over them. And it was right then that the blonde woman who had already taken her parents’ box, politely offered Miriam’s box to the newcomer. “No!” Miriam screamed at the blonde giant. She had to take Miriam’s box. She had to. Otherwise, Miriam and her parents would be separated. “Please take us with you.” Miriam blubbered the words through blurry tears. If the blonde woman didn’t take Miriam, it would mean never seeing her parents and sister again.

The dark-haired woman was replying in heavily accented German. She was talking in chilling nonchalance about working as a flight attendant and explaining how shrinkies were her favorite snack during long flights.

“I hope you enjoyed your brief time here in Germany. Have a safe return flight,” said the beautiful blonde woman, evidently ending the conversation between them.

The flight attendant’s thanks came at the same time that Miriam wailed in despair. In the cell beside her, she heard Julian beating his fists against the plastic. “Don’t separate us,” he screamed. It was all to no avail. The blonde woman turned away, putting her hands to her cart. Miriam pressed her face to the plastic at the edge of her box, trying to steal a final glimpse of her mother, her father, and her sister. She could even see the box. It was wedged directly between a melon and a box of blueberries. Then the blonde lady put her hands to the cart and pushed them away.

Meanwhile, Miriam’s box was clutched before ample bosoms. They jiggled lightly as the woman who held the box carried it to the cash register. When she placed the box down to be rung up by the store employee, Miriam took her first good look at the woman who was buying her. Miriam could not have said quite what she had expected to see. An ugly monster, a spoiled, pompous jerk. An arrogant bitch. A drooling lunatic. But when she finally got a better look at her, Miriam couldn’t help being surprised. The person who had purchased them was an attractive woman around her own age. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a loose bun, strands of hair hanging free here and there. Her green eyes sparkled as clearly as the forest in a mountain glen. Her lips were full and inviting, and her skin glowed like the moon on a summer's night. She was the kind of woman about whom men might write sonnets, and that other women might envy. But as she stood in the checkout line, nonchalant and waiting to buy her box of shrunken humans, she didn't seem to care about any of that. She was just a sleepy looking young woman quietly waiting for her turn at the register.

The mundanity of the activity was reflected upon the woman’s features. Her full lips closed, her face was slack, eyes at half-mast.

Then the register beeped. The cashier handed their buyer a slip of paper and wished her a good night. And then Miriam and her box were gathered up by a woman who indented to devour them. With long strides she carried them into the night.

***

Rosalie

Condor Hotel

Room #113

8:56 PM CET

After arriving in Germany early that morning, the young flight attendant finally made it to her hotel room. She set her box of shrinkies down on a small desk beside her purse, and took a deep breath, feeling the exhaustion in her muscles. The tiny room was quiet except for the sound of an air conditioning unit humming gently near the window.

Rosalie squeezed around the bed to head straight into the bathroom. The twenty-eight-year-old was eager to shower. Before going to the grocery store, she’d had a short but intense workout at the hotel gym. Realizing that the day had grown late, she had needed to hurry out to purchase shrinkies before the grocery store closed. Consequently, the young Canadian had yet to wash away the sweat from her workout and the grime from her day. Turning on the shower, she began to get out of her clothes.

The bathroom was just as crampet as the tiny bedroom, so Rosalie was forced to do a lot of balancing to remove each article of clothing. Bit by bit her sweaty exercise apparal came off, and each item in turn was tossed into a small bag that she used for dirty clothes. Meanwhile the shower was already radiating enticingly warm steam. Finally disrobed, the young woman wasted no time in slipping eagerly into the shower.

Warm water cascaded down her body, soothing aching muscles. Eyes closed, head tilted back, the water seemed clean off the day’s sweat and stress. She took a deep breath of the moisture infused air and felt her body relax, the day’s tension melting away. The flowery smell of Rosalie’s favorite shampoo from its travel-sized bottle served to further calm the young lady. The various trials and problems encountered over the course of the dying day now seemed so far away.

After finishing her shower, Rosalie wrapped herself in a plush white towel and padded into the bedroom, being careful not to slip on the bathroom’s tiled floor. A moment later, she changed into pajamas and crawled gratefully into bed, relishing the soft sheets and the quiet of the empty room. As the young woman drifted off to sleep, she did not spare so much as a second thought for the people in the Vortex box she had purchased less than an hour ago and left on the hotel room desk. Inside, a dozen shrunken humans watched as Rosalie rearranged her pillows, switched off the light, and fall into a dreamless slumber.

*** Miriam

Condor Hotel

Room #113

1:13 AM CET

The innocent woman sat with her back to the wall of her prison, legs hugged to her torso and stared blankly at the floor. Her hands were clasped tightly together in front of her shins, fingers interlocking, knuckles white. She had been wrongly accused, falsely arrested, and thrown into this small, suffocating clear-walled cell.

Every sound was muffled inside the tiny cube, making it feel like this was not truly reality. The muted calls or quiet sobs of other shrinkies in adjoining cubes could be heard from time to time, even if she chose not to look through the clear compartment walls to pick out whomever was causing them.

Despite their innocence, it seemed the authorities were not coming to their rescue. Vortex had sold them. It was likely that this woman who had bought them simply assumed they had once been criminals, druggies, or other lowlifes. Now Miriam, Julian, and Oliver could do nothing but wait. They were stuck together in this tiny box, each in their own cramped cell, awaiting a gruesome and undignified death. A rising sense of despair and hopelessness washed through the young woman’s conscience. She was beginning to come to terms with the eventuality of being eaten by the woman who had bought them.

It didn’t take long for Miriam to grow to hate the individual cells into which they had been deposited. The air was musty and warm, the silence oppressive. The walls were transparent so she could at least see into cells beside her own, where her brother sat with his own back to the wall. Beyond him, she made out the somewhat more obscured figure of Oliver, standing and watching the sleeping giant woman as if trying to discern some clue about her. Other prisoners sat, stood, shifted around, or even paced, though there was hardly enough room in each cell to take a single step. Moving about mostly amounted to turning in circles or banging against the transparent walls as people burned off nervous energy. Even some of the braver looking men cried.

Miriam looked at the bedside table in the hotel again. It was past one in the morning. Despite the late hour, no one in the hotel room was asleep. No one save our captor, Miriam thought with a bitter laugh. In a cruel twist of fate, their box was beside the woman’s purse, as well as a Sky Canada identification badge attached to a nylon cord that could be worn around the neck. The ID had a smiling picture of the attractive woman, her name emblazoned below.

Her name was Rosalie Lefebvre. As Miriam had overheard back in the grocery store, she worked as a flight attendant for Sky Canada.

Rosalie Lefebvre… That is the name of the woman who is going to kill us, Miriam thought to herself. She looked back at the picture emblazoned above the name. Rosalie had been smiling quite pleasantly at the camera when the photograph had been taken. The woman was undeniably attractive. Her face was calm, cheerful even. She looked friendly in the picture. She could even be said to look kind. She didn’t look anything like a killer.

The clock on the bedside table displayed the time; 1:14 AM. The space between each minute seemed to stretch out into an eternity. Miriam fidgeted, stood, then took the single step her stifling prison gave her space to make. Then she turned around, stepped back, and turned again, moving back and forth in the confines of the cell. Her footsteps made the plastic beneath her feet crinkle. It sounded loud in the cramped space. She couldn’t stop thinking about her mother and father. About Denise, to whom she had been so unkind the last time they had spoken together. Now her entire family had been shrunk by those bastards at Vortex.

Damn them. Her parents were innocent, but she doubted the woman who had bought her parents would care to listen to their explanations any more than the woman who had bought Miriam and her brother.

Shrinkies always attest to their own innocence, Miriam thought to herself. But maybe if we can somehow get this woman, this flight attendant to simply listen to us…

A grim smile flickered on Miriam’s face as she realized the absurdity of the idea. It was a fool’s hope and nothing more. Before she had given up eating shrinkies, how many of them had insisted upon their own innocence? Before coming across her friend Oliver, Miriam had never paid attention to their cries. She’d simply eaten them all without a second thought.

Miriam shivered with a horrid chill, her whole body then suddenly as still as a statue.

“Oh no,” she whispered, her eyes wide as a terrible possibility occurred to the young woman.

“What if,” she whispered to herself in sudden horror, the sound of her voice urgent and high. The rest of the thought was too terrible to utter, even in the privacy of her little cell. And yet, the thought wreaked havoc through her mind like a raging tornado.

What if it wasn’t one in a million shrinkies that were innocent, like Vortex claimed? What if it really was one in ten, like that online documentary had suggested?

The idea had been terrible enough before she had been shrunk. But here she was, in the same circumstance as the shrinkies she’d eaten in the past. Now as she watched the clock tick away the minutes of what was likely the final night of her life, the understanding of precisely how the shrinkies she’d eaten must have felt suddenly hit her a weight all its own. She staggered under the sudden emotional burden; her heart beating beaten with guilt like a mold of hot lead under a blacksmith’s hammer.

“How… how many innocent people did I eat?” Miriam turned to look into her brother’s eyes. Though he hadn’t heard her, he reacted to the horror held in her features and stood to face her. “Miriam? What is it?” “How many of the shrinkies I’ve eaten were people just like us that had to spend nights like this? How many innocent people did I murder?” Miriam spoke louder, just loud enough to be heard it seemed judging by the look of understanding in her brother’s face.

Julian shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known.”

Miriam gazed back at her sibling, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “Just like she doesn’t know.” Miriam nodded to the sleeping pile of blankets in the bed of the hotel room. For a moment, the two of them simply stared out at the sleeping giantess.

Julian opened his mouth, then closed it again. When he finally spoke, he seemed to pick his words carefully. “The important thing is we’re together. You, me, and Oliver. We’re together. The three of us. We are going to get through this together too. I don’t know how yet, but we will.” In his cage on the far side of Julian’s, Oliver nodded at Miriam, one hand on the transparent wall between him and her brother. At first, Miriam found their presence reassuring. But then her mind whirled.

“Fuck!” She shouted. “Fuck. I am so sorry, Julian. It’s all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, Miriam,” Julian replied at once. “Vortex put us here. Not you.” Beyond him, Oliver shouted, “Not your fault, Miriam!” loudly enough that she was able to hear him despite being two cells away. Their eyes met, and for a moment, Oliver seemed surprised by the hurt and anger that met his gaze. If only I’d eaten Oliver, Miriam thought to herself. He was almost in my mouth. If only I’d swallowed him down. Then we wouldn’t have started that stupid petition, begun that foolish podcast, we wouldn’t have drawn the anger of Vortex, and we wouldn’t be in this mess. She absentmindedly rolled her tongue across her teeth. Oliver probably would have even tasted nice.

It was a horrible thought, but as she stared at Oliver, she found herself wishing she’d swallowed him. If she had, her whole family would never have been subjected to this torture. Even if she had known it was Oliver, if she could do it over again, she couldn’t have conclusively said that she wouldn’t have swallowed him whole. Then the trapped young woman looked away from her friend in a sudden rush of shame. That kind of reasoning was nonsense. Miriam Lindner was not that kind of person. She was not! Miriam told herself she was better than that. Better than wishing she’d killed a lifelong friend.

Letting out a long shuddering sigh, the distressed young woman pressed herself against the thin border of plastic that separated her cell from Julian’s. She’d have given anything to feel her brother’s protective arms wrap around her once more, to feel safe just one more time. Slumping to the ground, Miriam leaned against the barrier, trying to get as close to her sibling as she could. On the other side of the plastic, Julian cuddled up as well. Only a razor thin barrier of plastic separated them.

The long minutes stretched to hours. The tiny captives tried to focus on anything other than their confinement. Julian occasionally hummed a tune or recited a poem. Sometimes Oliver or Miriam would join in a song. A few of the other shrinkies in the box would sometimes sing too. When they ran out of songs, Julian switched to asking them riddles. He did anything he could to distract their minds from their dire circumstances. But the seconds seemed to crawl by, and the weight of the injustice they were facing seemed to hang heavily over them until it felt unbearable.

They all knew what would happen when morning finally came. The only question was how long they would be stuck in the individual cells of their box There was no way to escape, no way to contact anyone who could help them.

As the clock ticked closer to morning, their eyes grew heavy, exhaustion taking over. One by one they curled up in corners of their individual cubes, trying to find what comfort they could in their last night of life. None of them truly slept. They simply rested for a while in their small, lonely cells, counting down the minutes until the day they would die finally began.

***

Rosalie

Condor Hotel

Room #113

5:01 AM CET

In the early morning light, the sound of a song filled the hotel room, emanating from Rosalie’s phone. It was a gentle melody, like a lullaby, but with a sense of urgency that suggested it was time to wake up.

The young woman stirred, her hand blindly groping for the phone hooked into the charger on the bedside table. Fingers clasped around it, fumbled with it briefly, then silenced the song with a tap. The owner of the phone thought fondly of returning to sleep, but it was too late. The seed of wakefulness had been planted, and dreamland was now frustratingly beyond reach until the end of another day.

The phone lay upon the hotel sheets, its screen casting a pale glow in the darkened room.

As Rosalie lay there, blinking in the glimmer of her phone’s light, the weight of the day ahead pressed down on her like a heavy blanket. She just wanted to close her eyes for another hour. But there wasn’t time. Packing needed to be done and done quickly. After that, there would be just enough time to get dressed and meet the rest of the crew to catch the airport shuttle.

With a sigh, the young woman rose from her bed. The morning alarm song had been silenced on the phone, but the tune still played in her head. She hummed a few bars of it as she threw off the covers. It was time to face the day. And as she reached for the phone once more, she felt a sense of gratitude for the simple things in life, like a song on an early morning alarm clock.

Switching on a morning playlist on her phone, she swung her feet out of bed and onto the cold tile of the hotel floor. Turning on the light at the bedside table, she plopped her phone next to the box of shrinkies so she wouldn’t forget either one. She thumbed on her morning playlist on to energize herself. Then she turned to get ready for her day.

The phone began to play “Reflektor” by Arcade Fire. It was a bit early for a more boisterous song, but it was also a favorite of Rosalie’s. Perhaps it would wake her up.

Today, she told herself, is going to be a good day.

***

Julian

Condor Hotel

Hotel room #113

5:06 AM CET

The young man sat huddled in the corner of his small cage, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't believe what had happened to him. He was the captive of a giantess. The woman who legally owned him and who would treat him as a food commodity was unlike anything he had ever seen before. When she’d stood over him yesterday, she’d towered over him like a mountain.

Much like his sister, he was still adjusting to this new size. A cell made of thin plastic that a few days ago he could have torn in half, was now too strong to even dent. Though he’d tried, there had been no give to the plastic, transparent walls that separated him from his sister on one side, or his best friend on the other. On the plus side, he could at least see and communicate with his sister and his best friend.

However, it also allowed him to spend the night looking at a pile of blankets under which he knew was the person who would kill him. As she had woken up, the entire box of shrinkies had watched her every movement. Rosalie Lefebvre was large enough to literally swallow each of them without even bothering to chew them up first. More terrifying still, she almost certainly would. And here I am, Julian though. Waiting for my fate to be meted out in her hotel room. I wonder if she will eat me for breakfast or hold off until lunch?

Now that Rosalie had turned the table light on, the room’s borders were thrown into harsh aspect. Julian looked out at the vast expanse of the room, his eyes widening in awe despite himself as he once more looked beyond the walls of the Vortex box.

The furniture of the hotel room was massive, the curtains were as big as sails, and the bedside light larger than any lighthouse. He felt so small and insignificant, like a tiny insect in a world of giants. It was enough to send him into a fresh panic.

The young man tried to calm his racing heart. He took a deep breath of the stale, warm air in his cell, wishing for the thousandth time that the air holes in the box were bigger. Nevertheless, he took another breath, trying to calm his nerves as a giant roamed the world beyond.

It will be okay, Julian told himself. Everything will be okay. He knew he had to keep his wits about him if he was going to survive. But as he looked out at the vast expanse of the hotel room, he couldn't help but feel small and helpless. He was at the mercy of the giantess, and his chances of escape were almost zero.

Even supposing he did manage to escape, where would he go? No one was going to help him. They would likely eat him as soon as they saw him. Certainly they would be no more charitable than the attractive young woman who had bought them yesterday. He looked up at the woman who had thrown off the covers and was stretching sleepily at the edge of her bed.

Despite his fear, Julian couldn't help but be drawn by an almost terminal attraction to Rosalie Lefebvre. The giantess was immense. It boggled the mind that someone so enormous could move so quickly. Logic seemed to dictate that something of such immeasurable mass would take slow lumbering steps. Julian recalled a cartoon he’d watched in his youth that had a giant as a character. In the cartoon, the giant was a dim-witted creature, reacting slowly and stupidly to his surroundings. This woman was the exact opposite. She was quick, deliberate, and precise.

She was also distressingly attractive, with long, flowing dark brown hair and a body that seemed to go on forever and a trim but muscular hourglass figure. Each motion of her alluring form was graceful as she walked around the room, her every movement sending shivers down his spine. He knew he was in danger, but he couldn't help feeling an almost overwhelming attraction to her. She had a beautiful face and an absolutely stunning body. Were these feelings some shrinkie version of Stockholm Syndrome? Some logical corner of his mind wondered if a study had ever been conducted on such a thing.

As he sat there watching Rosalie, he couldn't help but wonder what was going to happen next. Was she going to eat him in a few minutes? In a few hours? There was no way to know of course, but he knew he had to try to escape and get to safety, to get Miriam to safety. Oliver too, if it could be managed. Yet as he looked at what to him was a giantess, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of comfort. It was as if she was protecting him from the larger world, in her own way. He was… hers.

It was a ridiculous notion, but if nothing else, he wasn’t in the possession of some snot nosed kid, or some potbellied, middle-aged man. If he was going to be eaten, it would be by a stunningly beautiful woman.

Julian’s heart rate quickened to double time as his imagination treated him to the mental image of the giantess turning her attention to him and devouring him in one bite. The thought of being swallowed whole terrified him. He hoped she chewed him up first, but he knew most people simply swallowed shrinkies. Many people ate them specifically for the tickling sensation they imparted as they wiggled alive on the way down. The thought of falling down someone’s dark esophagus sent a surge of fear through him.

He, his sister, and his friend were helpless, trapped in cells of a transparent box in his cage, with nowhere to run and no way to defend themselves. The thought of being consumed by the giantess filled him with such dread that he felt sick with anxiety.

And yet…

Julian watched as the woman continued to stride about the tiny hotel room. She moved with a kind of effortless grace that was hypnotic to watch. Her steps were sure and confident, and every move she made seemed to be choreographed to perfection. At some level, he hated that she was so attractive. She would be easier to hate if she weren’t quite so good looking.

Then the giant woman began to undress, removing first her pajamas, then her underwear. Her body, now devoid of clothing, was on ostentatious display. Rosalie appeared heedless of the box of shrunken people on the table.

The soft light of the hotel lamp made her pale skin glow. Her body was carved from long hours in athletic training. Magnificent glutes stood out from a muscular back and legs as she turned to the bed and drew the covers back up.

Julian watched as the woman moved around the bed, her ample, muscular and shapely bottom wobbling hypnotically almost directly above and in front of the box of shrinkies. She was clearly unconcerned about appearing naked before a dozen strangers.

She probably doesn’t think of herself as being naked before a dozen other people. Bitter comprehension dawned as Julian realized that the beautiful woman almost certainly thought of herself as being alone in the hotel room. While she was certainly aware that Vortex shrinkies were live humans who had been reduced in size, she also was no more embarrassed of being naked before them than one might be embarrassed in front of a bag of chips. To her, we’re not human anymore, just snacks for later, Julian thought as his eyes traveled the towering length of a dazzling feminine form.

Julian watched her walk away, her curvy, muscular bottom swaying in a hypnotic sensual rhythm. It was like watching a shooting star streak across the sky, knowing that it would soon be out of sight. Still, he felt oddly grateful for having witnessed her beauty. In this entire process, she was a rare gem, and he was lucky to have seen her shine at all. He had only wished he had met her before he had been shrunk to snack size. Who knew? Had they met beforehand, maybe she would have agreed to go on a date. Maybe they would have become a couple.

The giantess closed the bathroom door. For a moment, the shrinkies were left alone in the hotel room, the music from her buoyant morning playlist beating noisily in their ears.

***

Miriam

Condor Hotel

Room #113

5:07 AM CET

Meanwhile, in the corner cell, Miriam also watched their owner disappear into the bathroom. The woman who had bought them was strikingly beautiful, even more so when seen without clothes. Despite their situation, it had been glaringly obvious that all the shrinkies had looked at her too, especially the men. The experience left Miriam feeling oddly self-conscious, even embarrassed on the woman’s behalf, as if Miriam were out there naked instead of this other woman. She wished Rosalie wouldn’t stand before their box with her naked bottom hovering in front of them. Hopefully, she would put clothes on soon. Miriam tried to think back and recollect if she had ever changed or been undressed around a box of shrinkies. She certainly hoped not. If she ever had then it was unlikely she would have thought any more about it than Rosalie did, which was to say not at all. The idea imparted a feeling of what could only be described as delayed-onset embarrassment. She curled back into a ball in the corner of her cell, wrapping her arms tight about her legs once more and tried to imagine herself somewhere else, anywhere else but this awful hotel room of a flight attendant who had bought them to eat as a midflight snack.

Forgetting her circumstances proved to be an impossibility. A moment later there was the “woosh” of a toilet being flushed. Then the door to the bathroom opened once more and the giantess Rosalie reemerged, still naked, still beautiful, and looking more awake. She walked around the bed once more, ample boobs the size of houses bouncing on her chest.

The flight attendant then began to gather the few possessions she had taken out of her suitcase and repack them; a book on the bedside table, a bag of toiletries that included toothpaste, floss, and hair wash. The woman stood before their box on the table, hip cocked to one side, powerful shapely glutes larger than a mansion standing out before the box of shrinkies, dark brown hair cascading halfway down her back like a waterfall. The woman packed up her bag, then cocked her hips for a moment, moving in time with the beat of the music from her cell phone. Her butt cheeks bounced in a repeated gentle collision until she finally came to a standstill. Miriam looked over at the screen of the cell phone, just visible from her vantage point. The screen displayed the band name, Les Trois Accords. The song name apparently was “Corinne.” Above her, Rosalie sang a few lines of the song.

“Il n'y a pas de remède. Le rythme me possède,” She sang. Her voice was pleasant, though slightly off key.

Miriam had little knowledge of French, so the meaning was lost on her. Then the titanic woman bent forward to don underwear, causing her cheeks to spread just enough to see right up her-

Miriam turned her head sharply away to avoid a visual of any more of the giantess’s posterior than she’d already had. The woman might be gorgeous, but given where the human digestive system ended, this felt like being mocked.

Looking sideways meant that she saw Julian and Oliver in the adjoining cells. They were pressed close to the front of the boxes. Despite the flight attendant’s horrible designs for them, the two young men couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of the admittedly shapely, feminine derrière directly before them.

Why should this woman get to eat us as snacks anyway? Miriam thought to herself. Why can’t she understand that we’re human beings just like she is?

Once again, the staggering weight of guilty comprehension crushed her. That was likely the same feeling many of the shrinkies Miriam had eaten must have felt. She had never really thought of shrinkies as humans when he had eaten them either, but that was what they had been. Miriam had made this point on the podcast half a dozen times of course but now that she was on the other side of the equation, the concept was hitting home in a way it never had before.

Human beings. I used to eat human beings before I gave up Vortex six months ago. Miriam blinked tears from her eyes. They were all people like me. They probably felt as helpless as I do right now. Only now it’s my turn.

These wretched thoughts crowded around Miriam’s mind, giving her no rest as she sat and cried in her cell. After a moment, she blankly stared back to the flight attendant. Thankfully, Rosalie was now donning her gray Sky Canada uniform by pulling on a skirt and blouse. The woman then did her dark brown hair up in a bun tight enough to stop a bullet. Finally, she went to the bathroom and applied a little makeup in the mirror.

Rosalie finally closed the cap on her lipstick and dropped it into a handbag with an air of finality. Turning off the bathroom light, she picked up her phone and turned off her music. Then she reached for the box of shrinkies, the first time she’d given an indication of remembering them since setting them down the evening before. Miriam shouted with the rest of the tiny shrinkies as they were tossed roughly about. It was like being a pinball rattled about in a pinball machine. The box came to rest in a handbag with one half of the Vortex box protruding out of the top. The handbag was then placed on the top of a rolling suitcase. A moment later, the whole bag tilted sideways as the flight attendant’s well-manicured fingers wrapped around the rolling suitcase handle and she walked out of the hotel.

***

Miriam

Hotel Lobby

6:12 AM CET

The next half hour was filled with more jiggling, jostling, and constant motion than Miriam had ever experienced before. The flight attendant’s first stop was the front desk of the hotel to check out. They gave her a receipt a receipt for her stay, which she folded up and put into her pocketbook. Taking hold of the rolling back once more, she pulled the bag and therefore the box of shrinkies out to the street and loaded them into the back of a van. Rosalie’s luggage was placed alongside a collection of other suitcases, then shut up in the trunk. Miriam heard Rosalie’s voice as she spoke in rapid French with another woman. Miriam didn’t understand a word of French, but soon the voices of the two women talking were joined by others, some voices belonging to males. There was a give and take in both French and English. Miriam knew English well enough, but what she understood was neither helpful nor especially interesting. She recognized Rosalie speaking in English a few times, mostly talking about having caught a new romantic comedy at the movie theater after dinner a few days ago, Moonlight Dreams. Miriam had actually planned to watch the film herself with a few girlfriends, or make her boyfriend see it with her.

I suppose I will never get to see it now, she thought to herself.

The van lurched into motion, making the luggage wobble. For a moment, Miriam was afraid the handbag in which their box was placed might fall over, and the rest of the baggage might fall and crush them all to death. Fortunately, the handbag was propped up between a large red backpack and the black rolling bag that they had ridden on earlier. The bag steadied as the car picked up speed.

The sound of the wheels on the road beneath them drowned out the voices of the normal-sized humans in the cabin to the point where it was rare that Miriam could make out anything they said. Instead, she simply tried to keep from getting nauseous. The stop-and-go movement of the airport shuttle made her woozy. In the half-light of the trunk and breathing the stuffy air of the poorly ventilated cubes in the Vortex box, it left many of the shrinkies feeling a bit motion sick.

For better or for worse, the ride to the airport was not a long one. The car soon stopped and a moment later the back of the trunk was opened. A driver loomed before them, a young man. His face was pocked with acne, blonde hair peeked out from beneath a formal cap. He roughly grabbed each bag and set it on the curb to be collected by its owner.

Rosalie appeared, towering over them. She set the handbag on her light blue rolling suitcase once more, then made her way into the airport, her heels clicking on the hard polished floor with every step, sounding for all the world like the ticking of a monstrously large timepiece. It was like she was listening to the seconds of her life count down to nothing.

Miriam turned to her brother and Oliver, hoping for some word of comfort or gesture of support. She received neither. Both men were staring up at Rosalie, seemingly transfixed as she dragged them through the airport. Miriam looked back at Rosalie, wondering what had captivated their attention so completely.

It did not take long to discern what had captured their interest. The flight attendant uniform was clearly not made to be especially ostentatious. Despite its more formal and reserved style, the physiques of the woman who now wore it seemed determined to make itself known. The skirt clung to Rosalie’s feminine form beneath, revealing provocative curves and contours in more detail than Miriam would ever have wanted in her own clothing.

Julian and Oliver were making the most of their ringside seats as the woman’s footsteps struck a tempo matched by the sway of her hips. CLICK, CLICK, CLICK went her shoes, each impact loud in her ears as the enormous woman walked. Each stepresulted in an unintentionally seductive swing of Rosalie’s muscular glutes. Miriam looked over at other shrunken men in nearby cells to discover that many of them were similarly beguiled by Rosalie’s more scenic characteristics.

Men, always thinking with their dicks, even at a time like this.

Miriam looked back up at the flight attendant’s muscular rear wobbling tantalizingly above her. It could have been be worse. At least she was clothed this time.

Miriam turned her back to the flight attendant, not wanting to stare at the woman’s derrière any longer, no matter how scenic it might be. To distract herself, Miriam turned her attention to the world beyond. There were signs for various airlines. There was a large poster advertisement for a German car company, with the latest star of a spy thriller movie positioned beside a fast-looking car. As if mocking her predicament, there was an advertisement picture of a famous fitness model holding a box of Vortex shrinkies with the caption, “Vortex. The perfect snack for the skies.”

Rosalie was just passing the airport’s security checkpoint. On the far side of a rope barrier, long lines of travelers were waiting to pass through the security scanners.

Miriam watched as Rosalie stopped briefly to check with a security member, displayed a badge, and exchanged a few words in her heavily accented German. Then the security man nodded.

“Have a good flight,” he told her. “Thank you,” Miriam heard Rosalie reply in her accent-tinted German. Grabbing the handle of her bag, she sent a jolt through the shrinkies as the suitcase beneath them rolled forward. Then the flight attendant continued on her way, and with her, went Miriam, Julien, and Oliver.

Funny, Miriam thought to herself dryly. This is the fastest I have ever gone through airport security.

***

Rosalie

Airport

6:21 AM CET

Rosalie strode past the security line at the airport, her eyes scanning the colorful array of passengers with a mixture of curiosity and mild cheerfulness.

The scene before her resembled a madhouse, a chaotic mix of people from all walks of life, forced together into the cramped confines of a sterile, metallic world of air travel. There were businessmen and women in expensive suits dragging oversized bags. They stood in line with college students in pajamas and sweatshirts who appeared to have just rolled out of bed. One couple hugged tightly, as if saying goodbye before parting for a long time. Nearby a group of friends in their twenties laughed and joked, clearly excited for what was likely a group vacation. A number of individuals were traveling alone. They read books, typed on computers, or simply appeared lost in thought, perhaps contemplating whatever awaited them at their journey’s end.

Rosalie passed by a young mother who fumbled with three different passports and sets of tickets while her husband held a small child. The toddler clung to his father like a human koala as his curious green eyes roamed the airport. For a brief moment, they latched onto Rosalie. Rosalie smiled at the little fellow, giving him a wave. He broke into a joyful smile and returned the wave with the jerky motion of someone who has not quite gained full control of his hand’s motor skills.

Just behind them, a college boy with bedhead caught Rosalie’s eye. He grinned at her too, though for an entirely different reason. Rosalie immediately broke eye contact and continued onward towards the gate. She felt the young man’s gaze follow her, admiring her form. Unwilling to let the sleepy looking young man affect her, Rosalie continued beyond the crew security checkpoint.

The young Canadian couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the people beginning to line up to board the plane. Some looked lost, vulnerable, impatient. And all were at the mercy of a labyrinthine bureaucracy that could turn the simplest of tasks into an epic ordeal.

And yet, despite the chaos, there was a sense of order, a strange kind of harmony that emerged from the madness. Passengers were shuffling forward, inching their way through the metal detectors and baggage scanners, their eyes fixed on the prize of a flight that would take them to their destination. Despite the differences in their appearances and reasons for traveling, they all had one thing in common: the anticipation of a journey, whether it be for pleasure or necessity.

Rosalie paused outside the gate that led to her airplane, arranging several documents, ensuring she had not forgotten her passport, and checked that she had everything else she needed. Her fellow flight attendants were there too, along with the pilots. In a moment, it would be time to board. Soon, she and many of the people she’d passed in that security line would board the plane, each one on their own unique journey with their own story to tell. In some small way, she would be a part of many different stories today. She hoped that she would be a positive part of peoples’ lives, even only a fleeting one. The idea was pleasant and made her smile.

Walking to a nearby water fountain, she took out her reusable bottle and filled it. She had bought the bottle in order to reduce the amount of garbage created by plastic bottles. It was a small thing, but it was something she could do for the world. Rosalie was always striving to be a better person.

Unable to linger any longer, the young woman nodded to the other flight attendants, and they continued down the gate, and Rosalie made ready to play her part in the grand theater of air travel. For better or for worse, she knew that this was where she belonged, among the chaos and the order, the excitement and the fear, the joy and the sorrow. This was her world, and she was ready to take flight. And today was especially good because today she would be flying home. Home.

I hope we all reach our destinations safe and sound, Rosalie thought to herself. It never occurred to her that in her bag, a dozen shrunken people anxiously watched her every move.

***

Rosalie

Sky Canada Flight 9638

6:37 AM CET

Onboard the plane, Rosalie stowed her luggage, then dropped her handbag by her seat at the back of the aircraft. She paid no attention to the shrinkies in the box as they were jostled by the impact. Leaving the rear of the aircraft, she began to methodically check each seat, ensuring they were properly cleaned and clear. Her keen deep green eyes scanned every corner of the cabin, noting any stray items that needed to be stowed away. She straightened the magazines in the seat-back pockets and made sure the safety cards were in their proper places.

Once all the preboard checks were completed Rosalie took a deep breath and savored the fleeting moment of calm before the passengers began to board. She smoothed out her uniform, making sure it appeared neat and tidy. A glance at her silver, triangle-faced wristwatch ensured that everything was running on schedule. The passengers would be coming aboard any moment.

The hum of the engines outside was a constant background noise, but inside the cabin it was peaceful and still. She took one last moment to appreciate the serenity before the bustle of passengers and their needs and requests came rushing in.

It wasn’t long before a gang of passengers began pushing their way onto the airplane. They rumbled aboard in a state of frenzied excitement, like a herd of cattle being driven onto a train car. They pushed and jostled one another, struggling to find their seats in the cramped confines of the cabin.

There were fat men with sweaty brows who struggled to lug a similarly bulky bag between the narrow aisle of seats, and women with screaming children in tow. Some carried oversized bags that threatened to topple them over, while others clutched computers or phones like precious jewels.

The noise of discussion grew to a constant murmur, a hum of voices offering instructions, advice, and complaints. As they settled into their seats, the passengers took stock of their surroundings. There were veterans of the skies, who knew the ins and outs of air travel like the backs of their hands, and first-time flyers, whose eyes widened with wonder as they peered out the windows at the world below. In the midst of it all was Rosalie, helping stow a bag here, or find a seat there.

***

Oliver

Sky Canada Flight 9638

7:28 AM CET

As the reality of his situation sunk in, Oliver couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of dread. He knew that Rosalie liked to eat shrinkies like him. He wondered how long it would take until she became hungry. The thought of being swallowed alive by this beautiful but deadly creature was almost too much to bear.

But even as he feared for his life, the man was also captivated by the giantess. Her size and strength were both awe-inspiring and alluring. Someone that kind couldn’t be all bad, could she? He wondered if there might be some way to appeal to her humanity and persuade her to spare him.

I’ve survived nearly being eaten before, Oliver thought to himself with a sideways glance at Miriam.

Looking over at his friend gave him a start. Miriam wasn’t looking good. Her eyes were puffy from crying all night. Clutching her knees to her chest, she rocked back and forth, her eyes never leaving Rosalie.

Oliver’s view was disoriented when the plane began its taxi to the runway. He bounced around unhappily within his cage, being tossed about every which way and feeling much like a human pinball machine. He could see glimpses of the airport terminal through a nearby window, but most of his view was restricted to the interior of the aircraft. From where the Vortex box rested in a handbag at the back of the aircraft, he could see lines of seats before him. In the aisle between them stood Rosalie, apparently giving a safety demonstration on how to use a seatbelt, a life jacket, and an emergency mask, her demonstrations corresponding with a video playing on the airplane movie screens. A sense of vertigo and motion sickness stole across Oliver as his sense of balance seemed to inform him that the plane was moving. He pressed against the transparent walls of his cage, feeling helpless and trapped. The whine of the engines was overwhelmingly loud in the shrunken man’s ears. The constant jostling and swaying were making him feel nauseous and dizzy.

He only wished for one thing: To escape this surreal nightmare.

Continued from Part 1

Rosalie

Sky Canada Flight 9638

7:30 AM CET

The airplane groaned and creaked as it rolled down the runway, its engines straining against the forces of gravity. Passengers gripped their armrests, their hearts pounding in their chests, as the world outside began to blur from the speed with which it passed by.

And then, with a sudden lurch, the airplane lifted off the ground, soaring upwards into the endless morning sky. The passengers felt themselves being pulled back into their seats as the airplane gained altitude, the roar of the engines drowning out all other sounds.

For just a moment, they were weightless, suspended in mid-air like in the dreams of a madman. The ground fell away beneath them, a patchwork of greens and browns and grays, until it was nothing more than a distant memory. Above was a blue sky, below was a carpet of cotton clouds.

And yet, even as they hurtled through the air at impossible speeds, Rosalie felt a sense of calm. They were aloft, free from the constraints of the earth, and for a moment, they felt invincible.

Sighing, the young woman turned away from the window. A colleague in the front of the plane began to make the announcement that they would soon be serving in-flight drinks. Rosalie began to load the cart with some of the things she would need, hot coffee, hot water, a few extra snacks, some stickers she usually kept with her to give to children. Then pushing the cart up the slight incline of the isle, she began to work.

***

Rosalie

Somewhere over Great Britain

Sky Canada Flight 9638

7:58 AM GMT

After over an hour of serving refreshments, Rosalie found a rare moment of tranquility amidst her demanding responsibilities. Seeking solace from the bustling cabin, she retreated to her seat in the aft section of the aircraft.

Taking a seat in a comfortable crew chair, Rosalie released a contented sigh, relishing the much-needed break. No one seemed to be needing her at the moment. Breathing a contented sigh, she reached into her bag and retrieved the small Vortex box—her favorite in-flight indulgence. She picked up the box she had bought the previous evening.

Thank goodness that nice woman at the grocery store let me have these, she thought to herself as she looked down into the box.

Vortex had recently begun making completely clear boxes. Apparently, these new boxes created less pollutants to make and were also completely recyclable. It also meant that she could see into the box and observe each one of the twelve little people within much more clearly, all of them separated from one another since they were stored in their own little cells. They looked up at her, all of them looked terrified, but their reactions were as diverse as the people within. Some began shouting at her, shaking their fists. Others were crying and calling out to her, though Rosalie couldn’t hear them at all while they were inside the wrapper. A few simply curled up and cried in the corner of their little compartments.

The crinkling sound of the package echoed gently in the otherwise peaceful space. As Rosalie carefully tore open the box, she felt a rush of saliva, the anticipation of the delicious snacks whetting her appetite. Rosalie's hands delicately plucked one of the humans. This first one was a young man who was somewhere between dark and light skinned. He was shouting in a language that was not French, German, or English. At a guess, he might have been Indian, but there was no real way to tell. Rosalie smiled, more in anticipation of the snack than any desire to appear friendly, but the expression terrified the tiny man. He began crying out again, this time louder and in a higher pitch.

Oops, Rosalie thought to herself. I didn’t intend to frighten you more than you already are. Though thinking about it, she had shown her teeth when she’d smiled. They were as big as he was, poor thing.

It was a bit too late to avoid taunting the man, so Rosalie stuck out her tongue and pressed it against the now crying little fellow. He adhered to the wet, sticky surface. His last cry of terror was barely audible to the nearest passenger over the engine noise as Rosalie drew him in and sealed him behind soft lips.

As it happened, the nearest passenger was a teenage boy. He turned in his seat just in time to see Rosalie swallow. He looked from Rosalie to her Vortex box, and back to Rosalie, who was just dangling another shrinkie before her face.

The boy’s stare caught Rosalie’s eye. “Oh,” she said as she popped the second shrinkie into her mouth, swallowed, then leaned forward.

“Tu as besoin de quelque chose, mon ami?” She asked. The boy wrinkled his brow in confusion. He clearly didn’t understand. Rosalie was about to try again in German when she suddenly recalled he’d asked for his drink in English.

“Do you need anything, my friend?”

“N-no,” said the teen. He smiled. “I am okay.”

Rosalie beamed at him. The boy’s face began to heat up.

“You are not hungry?” She asked, her face a question as she pointed to the shrinkies. “I saw you eyeing my little snacks here. I can get you some cookies if you would like a treat.”

The boy shook his head. “No thank you, ma’am. I was just looking at the shrinkies. I didn’t mean to stare while you… while you ate them.”

Rosalie made a sympathetic face. “I am sorry, my friend, but we do not have shrinkies for sale on Sky Canada quite yet. I was told we will soon, but not as of now. These ones are a snack I brought with me.”

“I hope you like them.” The young man’s face was beginning to blush.

“They are quite tasty,” Rosalie admitted. “I like how they wiggle on the way down.”

Rosalie smiled at the young man again. The boy’s face went fully red. He turned in his seat and buried his nose in a video game.

“Je pense que tu as un admirateur,” said Severine as she walked past. She was the only other flight attendant onboard who was a French-Canadian native.

"C'est drôle. Il me trouve attirante, mais il est trop gêné pour me parler. Si seulement il était un peu plus âgé." Rosalie replied offhand as she reached for another shrinkie.

“Please. Help. You’ve got to listen to me,” the shrinkie cried between Rosalie’s finger and thumb.

Rosalie gave the shrinkie – nineteen-year-old Guy Engels, a shoplifter from Luxemburg – no more than a passing glance before putting him into her mouth and swallowing him down.

***

Oliver

Rosalie’s Vortex box

Sky Canada Flight 9638

8:04 AM GMT

“Oliver! No!”

“Oliver!”

The cries from his two best friends sounded out as an enormous finger and thumb made their way into Oliver’s compartment. He tried to avoid them, but there really was nowhere to go. Finger and thumb grabbed Oliver. Then the box, his shouting friends, the other shrinkies all fell away as he shot upwards into the air, carried by Rosalie’s fingers.

The flight attendant seemed to be looking at something else, one of the passengers.

“No!” said Oliver. “Please don’t eat me!”

He immediately realized that he shouldn’t have said anything. His utterance caused the flight attendant’s deep green eyes to snap to him. He held out his hands, clasped together in supplication.

“I’ll do anything.”

Oliver's heart pounded in his chest like a trapped bird as Rosalie's mouth suddenly parted before him. The cabin lighting was just ambient enough to reveal an expansive abyss that stretches into the depths of her being. Dread washed over him, threatening to overwhelm his senses as his eyes widened in terror.

As Rosalie's lips parted, his gaze was involuntarily drawn to the expanse of her mouth. A milk white gateway of pearly teeth greeted him, framing a moist cavity with a playful coating of saliva over a taste bud studded tongue. Beyond that was a cavernous void that seemed to swallow the light around it.

Oliver's breath caught in his throat, his mind racing with a kaleidoscope of thoughts. The vastness of Rosalie's mouth taunted him with its formidable expanse. He was a mere speck in the face of her grandeur, a fragile existence teetering on the precipice of oblivion.

It felt like peering into the abyss, into a darkness that held his own nonexistence.

Oliver's gaze, fixed upon the gaping maw before him, was transfixed by what he knew what was to come. The abyss of her throat became a reflection of his deepest fears, an abyss from which he would never emerge. He had seen such a place before, every night in his nightmares. He’d dreamt it every night since Miriam had nearly eaten him. He had gazed down her throat too. Only this time, he knew there would be no last moment recognition. This time, he was taking the trip down, and would end up in this young flight attendant’s stomach.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Oliver was caught in a suspended state of dread, grappling with the desperate urge to survive as the woman’s gaping mouth rushed towards him.

In this chilling moment, Oliver's fear became a palpable presence, suffusing every inch of his being. His mind raced, desperate for a solution, a way to evade the dark depths that lay before him. With his heart pounding and his senses heightened, he mentally prepared to confront the harrowing unknown, aware that his very existence was about to be snuffed out in a single bite.

Full pink lips passed above and below Oliver. He was crossing the threshold, into Rosalie’s mouth. The tongue's muscular movements pressed him against the roof of the mouth, slathering him from head to toe in hot saliva.

“No!” screamed Oliver. “Please!”

The tongue seemed to tense, then curl around him, holding him tightly.

*GULP*

Oliver screamed as he passed through the muscular passage of the throat. The walls contracted and relaxed in synchronized motions, propelling him downward. The last thing Oliver ever saw was a moment’s glimpses of the uvula gently swaying above, contributing to the orchestration of swallowing.

Entering the long muscular tube designed to transport food and drink to the stomach, Oliver encountered rhythmic waves of peristalsis. They were incredibly powerful, created by muscles that were bigger than Oliver’s entire body. He resisted of course, but it was like trying to resist while in the constricting coils of an anaconda. The walls of the esophagus gripped and released, urging Oliver further along his digestive journey.

A few seconds later, Oliver arrived at the gateway to the stomach—the lower esophageal sphincter. This muscular ring relaxed and allowed him to pass through to the inner sanctum of the stomach. Oliver was expelled from the esophagus and fell. He screamed again.

***

Oliver

Inside Rosalie’s Stomach

8:07 AM GMT

As Oliver struggled to the surface of a muck that was like liquid mud, he realized it had finally happened. He was inside a human stomach. A world of moist, noisy darkness enveloped him. Though the blackness hid them, he could feel the immensity and power in the muscular walls of the stomach that surrounded him. The rhythmic movements of their contractions created a constant sense of motion despite Rosalie still being seated.

The environment was unpleasantly warm and humid, with the acidic gastric juices already beginning to irritate Oliver’s skin. The distinct smell of digestive fluids filled the air, a potent reminder of the stomach's role in breaking down food. Only this time, Oliver was the food.

There was a gurgle that was as loud as thunder, then a gentle churning sensation as the stomach contracted, working diligently to mix its contents. The sounds of gurgling and rumbling resonated around Oliver, creating an auditory backdrop that underscored the ongoing digestive process as the stomach continued its relentless task of breaking down food into smaller particles.

Amidst the darkness, and between the rumbling thunder of the stomach, there were occasional cries of pain. Oliver swore he heard someone speaking quickly in another language, though it was not one with which he was familiar. He considered trying to find his way over to them, if only to have company. It was so lonely in here. It was strange to feel lonely when he was insideanother person.

He began to move through the chyme towards the sound of shouting. The action caused more discomfort on his skin. Moving around in an acidic stomach was admittedly not the best idea. He was quickly reminded of the powerful chemical processes occurring around him.

The stomach walls shifted again, causing the contents withing the murky depths of the stomach to wobble and churn. Oliver tried to climb out of the chyme, keenly aware of the immense power of the woman who had devoured him. He thought he would be better off trying to climb the slippery stomach walls. At least that way, he might get out of the acids for a while.

A moment later, there was a scream and a splash. Someone else had just been eaten.

Welcome to hell, Oliver thought to himself.

A mumbling of a panicked voice sounded nearby. An instant later, yet another person fell into the stomach. Oliver heard him crying quietly a moment later. He began to make his way towards the person, but the constant squelching and relaxing of the stomach pressed people every which way. It made it impossible to come across someone in the dark.

Time seemed to pass differently within the stomach. Minutes felt like hours as Oliver floated within its confines, experiencing the relentless cycles of contraction and digestion. It became a world of its own, isolated from the external realities that existed beyond its walls. It was only pain, suffering, slow asphyxiation, and darkness.

While within the stomach, Oliver was both a witness and a participant in the intricate process of digestion.

As he continued to navigate this corrosive environment, he was aware the stomach was preparing him for his ultimate destiny. Its contents, including him, would eventually be transported further along the digestive tract, continuing their journey towards absorption into and elimination from Rosalie. Just as he was thinking things couldn’t get worse, they did.

The world shifted in a violent explosion sideways. If he’d thought the stomach was churning him before, it was nothing compared to now. He sloshed this way and that. It was like being in a blender.

She’s walking, Oliver realized. Walking where?

***

Rosalie

Somewhere over the Irish Sea

Sky Canada Flight 9638

8:26 AM GMT

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are hitting some pockets of slight turbulence. The captain has turned on the ‘fasten seatbelt’ sign, so we ask for your safety that you remain seated until the light is turned off.”

Rosalie strode between the aisle, every inch a poised and professional lady. She had a smile to greet each passenger. As she made her way down the aisle, she noticed a man in his early thirties giving her a flirtatious smile, trying to engage her in conversation. She gave him a polite but reserved smile back, sensing his attention and preferring to keep a professional distance.

Just as she was about to move on to the next row of seats, she heard a commotion from the back of the plane. Another passenger, an older woman, seemed to be in distress, her eyes wide with fear, her knuckles white from where they gripped the armrests.

“Do not worry, ma’am. We are experiencing something quite normal in flying. It is quite unpleasant but perfectly harmless.”

“Will it be like this the remainder of the flight?” the woman asked, clearly trying to sound merely curious but unable to prevent a tremor of fear from entering her voice.

“It will very likely pass soon.” Squeezing the woman’s hand, she left her briefly, then returned with a glass of water. “I will check back on you in a short while. Remember this is fairly common. If it were dangerous then I would look for another line of work.” The older woman gripped Rosalie’s arm tightly for a brief moment, smiling her thanks.

With the woman calmed, Rosalie then continued on with her duties, checking on the other passengers to ensure their safety and comfort. When she passed the teenage boy, she slipped him a wink and an extra packet of chocolate chip cookies. The boy blushed but smiled back.

Just then a passenger gestured frantically for her attention. As she approached, she could see the man had spilled his soda all over his tray table and was trying to mop it up with a napkin.

"I'm so sorry," he said, looking up at her with a sheepish expression.

"It's okay," she replied with a smile. "These things happen. Let me help you clean it up."

She quickly grabbed a few napkins and began wiping up the spill. As she worked, she made friendly conversation with the passenger, asking about his travels and recommending some local attractions in her home city in Canada.

Within minutes, the mess was cleaned up and the passenger was settled back into his seat with a fresh drink. “Hold tight to this one,” Rosalie joked with him. “You never know when we will hit another rough patch.”

Eventually, the turbulence passed. The busy flight attendants finally returned to their seats. Rosalie breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have a brief respite from the constant hustle and bustle of the busy flight. She smiled and reached into the box for her next shrinkie.

***

Miriam

Rosalie’s Vortex box

8:41 AM GMT

“Julian, help! Help!” Miriam screamed as the enormous digits of the flight attendant wormed their way into the little confines of her cubicle. She shrank away, crying in fear. But there was nowhere to go.

Julian punched and kicked the wall dividing them, desperate to aid his sister. He was shouting something, though in the din of the moment Miriam couldn’t have said what it was. She was too busy watching those fingers come closer. There was no place to hide.

The finger and thumb closed round her.

Then suddenly, they were gone.

Looking up, Julian appeared just as perplexed as Miriam. What had happened?

Through the transparent walls of their prison, Miriam, Julian, and the remainder of the shrinkies within watched as Rosalie took swift steps down the long aisle of the plane. She had been called away on some errand.

Miriam sank with her back to the wall, gasping. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears; her fingers trembled with shock. She watched the beautiful flight attendant talking to a passenger. Apparently, Rosalie had work to do. Miriam sighed. She had been saved. But how long would it be until the giant beauty returned?

***

Rosalie

Sky Canada Flight 9638

8:41 AM GMT

Just as Rosalie was about to eat another shrinkie, a passenger's voice cut through the quiet:

"Excuse me, miss? Can I get a glass of whiskey, please?"

The young woman sighed inwardly, knowing that duty called even when she was on a break. She stood up and made her way back to the beverage cart, taking care to keep a professional smile on her face despite her moment of frustration.

As she poured the spirit into a small plastic cup, she couldn't help but think about the contrast between the peacefulness of her break and the constant demands of the passengers. Flights are like that, she thought to herself. Nothing to do one moment, too much to do the next.

Turbulence rattled the plane once again. Showing expert balance, Rosalie handed the glass of whiskey to the passenger without a drop spilled. The plan dropped suddenly, making everything feel momentarily half its weight. As it did, Rosalie was suddenly very aware of the half dozen shrinkies inside her stomach. They were definitely still alive, and they clearly had been shaken about by the turbulence. It seemed they were even less happy about it than the passengers Rosalie was working so hard to help. As the turbulence passed, the young woman felt the shrinkies in her belly fall back to the bottom of her stomach. She stifled a small burp.

They’ll settle down when I get back to my seat and relax, Rosalie told herself as she turned to go. A pleasant thought occurred to her, And there are still a few left to be eaten. I shouldn’t keep them waiting.

“Can I have your number with this glass of whiskey?”

The query made the young woman pause. Rosalie turned to the man she had given the whiskey. She fixed a tired but professional smile on her face. It was the best she could manage after all the running around.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't think my employer would appreciate me providing complimentary services of that nature."

“Come on,” persisted the man. “No one would know but us. I could take you to dinner at the best restaurant in Canada. And I would be a perfect gentleman.”

"I'm flattered, but I'm afraid I'm only allowed to serve beverages, not hearts."

With that, Rosalie turned and headed back to her seat. A glance cast quickly over one shoulder confirmed what she had already sensed. The man was watching her, staring at her bottom. Gross.

Rosalie refused to let that fool bother her or make her feel self-conscious. She’d seen his type before and she hadn’t been impressed then. Head held high, she returned to her seat.

***

Miriam

Rosalie’s Vortex Box

8:45 AM GMT

Rosalie had eaten several more people after Oliver, but Miriam hadn’t reacted nearly so badly to them. Oliver had been eaten. Sparing him a few months ago hadn’t saved him. It had only delayed his death. Instead of Miriam digesting him, it was this flight attendant, this Rosalie who would absorb his body into her own.

And because Miriam had spared Oliver those months ago, now she and her family would suffer the same fate. It was grim irony to witness Oliver being eaten. It wasn’t so much that she was sad for him. Concern for her own wellbeing and that of her family, combined with shock of nearly being eaten herself a moment ago had superseded any feelings of sympathy she might otherwise have had for Oliver.

No, it was not that the flight attendant, the attractive Rosalie had eaten her friend. It was that Oliver had been eaten at all that bothered her so much. Sparing him months ago had accomplished nothing good and had only brought about her own family’s demise.

Her eyes lingered on the flight attendant's striking features, taking in every curve and contour of her body. Somehow, nearly being eaten by the woman had made Miriam hyperfocus upon her, so that she could barely take her eyes off the young Canadian. She was beautiful, confident, striking, and every inch the sort of female hero that Miriam loved to read about in books. Rosalie was the sort of woman Miriam had always wanted to be.

Miriam watched as the colossal woman soothed a nervous passenger one moment and poured whiskey in rattling turbulence the next. She hadn’t even spilled a drop or seemed the least bit unnerved.

Just then, Rosalie seemed to have a brief exchange of words with a male customer who was clearly interested in her. They were too far away to overhear, but the body language was not lost on Miriam. She had a good enough view of them both to understand what had happened.

The passenger had approached her, assuming that his attentions would be welcomed. But the flight attendant was not so easily swayed. She had clearly seen men like him before, with their entitled attitudes and their objectifying gazes. And she just as clearly had no patience for them.

For the first time since seeing her, Miriam saw Rosalie’s gaze chill to a frosty detachment, refusing to be reduced to an object of desire. Now she was more than just a pretty face, more than just a body to be admired. She had dreams and achievements of her own, and she was determined not to let this man's gaze minimize who she was.

Rosalie said something to him, and Miriam saw the man’s expression of surprise at the remark. Once again, Miriam could not overhear what she said, but it was clearly a firm dismissal.

For a moment, the passenger seemed almost taken aback, as if he had never encountered a woman with such strength of character before. And yet, even as he recoiled, she remained steadfast. Back straight, Rosalie strode away.

Beside her, Julian was surprised to see a change in Miriam. His sister’s eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks crusted in the salt of dried tears, her body was curled in on itself in a defensive posture, bereft of hope. In short, she appeared much like a forlorn captive from a bygone era, awaiting her turn for execution at the gallows. But as Miriam watched Rosalie defy the flirtatious passenger with ease, a small grin appeared on Miriam’s face, tugging her at the corners of dried and cracked lips.

For the most fleeting of moments, Miriam saw Rosalie as more than simply their executioner. Rosalie had stood up for herself, and in doing so, she had stood up for every woman who had ever been objectified. And Rosalie strode confidently away, the captive shrinkie couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for the woman. Miriam supposed that pride was an odd emotion to feel for someone who was almost certainly going to kill her. Still, there it was.

Just as this occurred Miriam, Rosalie sat back down in her seat. To another flight attendant she said. “I just want a few minutes to finish my shrinkies.”

Miriam shuddered. The moment was gone, and the harsh reality of their situation bore down on them both once more.

***

Rosalie

Somewhere over Ireland

Sky Canada Flight 9638

8:51 AM GMT

Rosalie flipped the page of one of the magazines one of the previous crewmembers had left aboard. There were the typical ads for things she didn’t need, a few coupons offering discounts for those same things she didn’t need. There was an article about tobacco, another about the best pasta places in Italy.

Somehow, she had begun reading an article about Vortex Foods. The more she read, the less appealing finishing the article seemed. And yet, it was like a train wreck, it was so damning to the company’s moral practices that she couldn’t quite pull her attention away. She took a sip from her hydro-flask and read on.

“Vortex makes promises of conducting ‘quality control’ upon its victims, but it is only a ruse to get more people into their custody. After running a perfunctory check based on what is referred to by leaked internal company documents as a ‘social score’, Vortex henchmen, officially entitled ‘field operatives’, are authorized to apprehend and miniaturize a person. These captives are then transported to the nearest Vortex central hub for cleaning, packaging, and distribution.

The claims that all shrinkies have criminal records or that they are social nonproducers might contain some truth, but there are too many innocent people who find themselves reduced in size and served as snacks despite a total lack of faults of their own. Furthermore, it is unclear how the so-called ‘social score’ is even calculated, as company officials continue to deny the very existence of such a scoring system. Equally maddening is that innocents cannot find justice because of various laws protecting Vortex from any form of accountability for their actions.

But how often do boxes of shrinkies contain innocents? One recent study has shown that there are more than most people would care to consider, with good odds that there is at least one innocent person in even the smallest of boxes. Worse still, the law of averages means that there could be a great deal more than only one."

Rosalie flipped the page closed. “This is the last thing I need to read right now.”

The comment was to herself, but it received a reply. Severine was making herself coffee in the nook where Rosalie was reading her magazine. She looked over at her colleague. “What’s that, dear?”

“I was just reading about Vortex Foods. According to this article, a sizable number of the people who are shrunk are innocent of any crimes. Or so this reporter would have us believe.”

“I’ve heard that before too, dear. But you mustn’t believe everything you read.”

“A good point,” Rosalie replied. “But it’s an interesting article. They make some convincing arguments that give one pause.” She raised her eyebrows. “I think I’ll finish my shrinkies before I read the rest of it. I’ve been looking forward to them and I don’t want spoil it by imagining them all to be poor innocent men and women who were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

The two women exchanged knowing looks.

Severine stirred some cream into her coffee. “That’s why I avoid articles like that one. I don’t want to give up shrinkies because one of them might not be something like a murderer or rapist. Of course, not every shrinkie is as bad as that. There was this online documentary recently called ‘Deception Unmasked, The Vortex Foods Exposé.’ They argued that many of the shrinkies are not just criminals or lowlifes. A small but persistent percentage of them are simply innocent people, at least according to the film.” Severine paused, as if the very idea was disturbing to comprehend. Finally, she added, “I didn’t really believe that, but Chris and I watched the first half hour of it. We had to turn it off or we both would have stopped eating shrinkies forever.”

Rosalie nodded grimly. “I saw that documentary, I managed to see the whole thing,” she said quietly, struggling slightly with the lid on her water bottle. She cursed under her breath at the obstinate cap and pushed it back into place. “It was very convincing and more than a little startling,” she said as she raised the bottle to her lips and took a sip. “Do you recall when they discussed the various computations of how many innocent people the average Vortex consumer has eaten?”

Severine’s shoulders tensed, her lips curled as if she had bitten into a lemon. “I do remember. That’s when we turned off the documentary. It gave me nightmares. But there’s no way the numbers they presented could really be that high, could they?” She gave Rosalie an expectant look, clearly waiting for a reassuring comment from the other woman. But all Rosalie could do was shrug helplessly.

Severine’s face twisted into a grimace, her eyebrows furrowing together in worry. Her fear seemed to deepen as she considered the possibility that the numbers were genuine.

Eventually Rosalie shook her head. “I don’t think those numbers could possibly be right, but it sure does make you think about what is happening to anyone who goes missing. It makes you wonder if they were whisked away by Vortex. After watching the film, I couldn’t eat shrinkies for a month because I kept imagining them to be innocent people.”

Both women laughed nervously, more as an outlet of nerves than anything humorous. In a more upbeat tone, Rosalie said, “To put both our minds at ease, I later read many of the concepts in the documentary were debunked. Most of the facts presented in the film were half-truths. The rest of it was imagined data and conspiracy theories cobbled together. Several of the people who made the film have been largely discredited as attention seekers and charlatans.”

The green-eyed flight attendant shifted her weight in her seat, turning to face her friend more directly. “My guess is that no matter how seriously that documentary was presented, it was not really meant to be taken as one hundred percent factual. It’s like that show, ‘Ancient Extra-Terrestrials’ on the Historical Channel. It’s good for a laugh, but not much more. Certainly, there are enough facts to make the program seem credible, or to make the viewer scratch their head. The problems only come when people begin getting the wrong idea from the whole thing and treat it as if everything is factual. I think that’s why most big platforms removed the documentary so quickly after it was posted. People were taking it as factual.”

“And thank goodness it was removed,” Severine agreed. “I don’t need their lies ruining my appetite. Shrinkies are bad people and that is that.”

Rosalie seemed to freeze in place, her teeth bared in a wince.

“You feel differently?” Severine asked, seeing Rosalie’s demurred reply.

“Well,” Rosalie shifted in her seat while crossing one leg over the other. “I've heard a lot of reports on this subject, and that exposé was quite convincing. While I think the film grossly overestimated the number of innocent people stuck inside shrinkie boxes, I believe there are still more out there than Vortex wants to admit.” She looked at Severine with an apologetic face. “But they are so good, I haven't been able to completely give them up. I have tried to limit my consumption by only eating them as treats during long flights or as snacks after workouts. That has worked for the most part, though I do allow myself to give in to cravings from time to time.”

“You still eat them anyway? What if one of the shrinkies in that box is innocent?” Severine gave a taunting grin, enjoying playing with her coworker.

Rosalie’s face twisted into a grimace. “I know. It’s terrible. But they’re a guilty pleasure. And I would have no way to know the innocent from the rest.” Her grimace twisted into a smirk. “They all taste the same, and they all wiggle pleasantly on the way down.”

Severine took a sip of coffee. “Don’t feel too guilty. I still eat them too. Though I would disagree on one point. I think that most of the people in boxes deserve to be there. And while I admit that there are certainly some people who are unjustly shrunk down, that number is probably not very high. Besides, those few are beyond help. It’s like global warming; it’s a problem that needs to be solved but I can’t do much about it. Certainly, my not eating Vortex won’t help them. If I don’t eat them then someone else will.”

“That’s pretty much how most people look at it,” Rosalie agreed. She flipped another page of her magazine, then gave a startled gasp and began to laugh.

“What is it, dear?”

Rosalie passed the magazine to her colleague.

“An advertisement featuring that model Anastazja Kamińska in a bikini. Oh, and a blurb about how eating shrinkies will boost one’s derrière,” Severine said, disapproval heavy in her voice. She wrinkled her nose at a photograph of the Polish fitness model lying naked on a beach with half a dozen shrinkies standing atop her shapely bottom.

“How did they convince those shrinkies to stand there without running off while they took the picture?” Severine wondered aloud.

“And why did they put this advertisement in the same magazine as an article about how many shrinkies are innocent people?” Rosalie asked her tone heavy with irony.

Both women laughed cheerfully together. This time the laughter was genuine. “Someone didn’t plan this magazine out very well,” Severine said.

“Clearly not,” Rosalie set the magazine aside. She could return to reading it later. Taking another swig from her hydro-flask, she reached for the half full box of shrinkies, placing the box on her lap. The diminutive people within looked up at her, fear in their eyes.

“Can you imagine being an innocent person in your Vortex box, only to be eaten and become part of your bottom?” Severine asked.

Rosalie flicked her gaze at her coworker like a horse might flick its tail at flies. “Ugh, Severine! That is not at all what I want to consider while finishing my shrinkies.” After a pause, she moved her head from side to side, as if weighing the merits of the comment. “Even if it’s probably happened to many of my shrinkies. It would explain why I can barely get my rear end into these dreadful airline uniform skirts.” She stared at the shrinkies in the box before her with something near to sympathy.

Severine seemed to realize she had gone a bit too far. “You look quite attractive, dear. You needn’t worry. The man in seat 17 C certainly noticed your hourglass figure, though he was far from the only one.”

“Perhaps so.” Rosalie gave her friend a grateful smile to show there were no hard feelings. “Either way, I am finishing my snack before some other guilty thought ransacks what remaining joy I can take in them.”

Severine finished her coffee, placed her cup in the sink, then walked forward to respond to a passenger pressing a “call” button.

Turning back to her box of shrinkies. Only about half a dozen remained, cowering in fear as they waited for their owner’s next move. She spotted a delicious looking young man and reached in to grab him.

***

Miriam

Rosalie’s Vortex Box

8:58 AM GMT

Miriam let out a bloodcurdling scream as Rosalie’s finger and thumb invaded her brother’s tiny compartment. Julian had just enough time to look up at Miriam, their eyes meeting for what would be the final time.

Then Julian was gone, lifted out of the box by the giantess. A whirlwind of emotions engulfed Miriam as she stood, watching her sibling’s fate. Panic tightened in her chest; her heartbeat thudded in her ears. The sight was horrifying and surreal, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

A surge of helplessness washed over Miriam. A knot formed in her stomach, her muscles tense with fear as she desperately searched for a way to intervene and protect her beloved brother. Miriam's eyes welled up with tears, her hands trembled involuntarily.

This can’t be happening. It can’t. Not to Julian. He’s too special.

A mix of disbelief and terror froze her in place, her eyes unable to move away from the heart-wrenching scene unfolding before her. She could scarcely believe the immense threat that Julian now faced, and it sent waves of anguish and sorrow through her.

Guilt once more crept into Miriam's consciousness, gnawing at her thoughts. It was all her fault that her brother was being eaten alive. It was all her fault that her parents and sister were likely already dead. Why had she thought she could attack a megacorporation and get away with it? She could have been more vigilant, more protective of her siblings.

Rosalie did not hesitate.

There was no inspection of Julian, no toying with him. Rosalie simply brought him to her lips, extended her tongue, and pressed it against her brother’s body. Then she drew him in. The lips closed.

“Julian!” Miriam screamed, “No!!”

And screamed. And screamed some more.

Rosalie’s throat pulsed ever so gently, and as it did her hand returned. For a moment Miriam thought it was coming for her, but no such luck. It grabbed the man in the cell behind hers. She watched, numb, as he was tossed into Rosalie’s mouth. Rosalie rolled him about. Miriam was waiting for her to swallow when gargantuan objects suddenly forced their way into her cell; a finger and a thumb, tipped in red nail paint. They grabbed her. Miriam resisted but there wasn’t any point. She was powerless to fight them off. After the finger and thumb closed around her body, she was brought up to Rosalie’s face with such speed that she nearly lost consciousness.

And there was Rosalie, her face taking up everything Miriam could see. Her beautiful green eyes shone, her lips were still pursed, clearly moving something about on her tongue. Then her full lips parted. At the back of her tongue Mariam saw the other man hadn’t been swallowed. He was sprawled out, coated in saliva and flailing weakly. The tongue extended towards her as she was moved forward. The wet organ pressed against her, coating her in warm saliva. Then it drew backwards, carrying her with it into the enormous cavern that was Rosalie’s mouth. The lips closed behind her.

Then everything went dark.

“N-no,” Miriam’s whimper sounded hollow in the wet darkness. She began to crawl forward towards where she had seen the other man.

Suddenly there was a terrible squelching sound and Miriam was pressed flat on the bumpy tongue as it flattened her against the roof of the mouth. Miriam struggled; her face turned to the side. She tried to suck in a breath, but the tongue was so thickly coated in saliva that she ended up breathing in half air, half spit. She began to cough and retch, desperately trying to suck in another breath and half gagging on the thick saliva. Her body thrashed about involuntarily, or at least she attempted to thrash about. The tongue was relentless in holding her fast against the soft flesh of the mouth so that her flailing amounted to almost nothing. Miriam choked out another scream of defiance and beat at the tongue as best she could in the hot, sticky darkness.

***

Rosalie

Somewhere over Ireland

Sky Canada Flight 9638

8:59 AM GMT

Rosalie smiled as she savored the sensation of having two shrinkies on her tongue at once. The first had been a bit lackluster. He’s almost boring, she had thought privately. To spice things up, she had decided to swallow him along with another shrinkie. Swallowing two shrinkies together would enhance the pleasant sensation they imparted while going down her esophagus. The second shrinkie she’d picked was more than active. This little one was busy screaming and moving about on her tongue in a defiant fashion. It was absolutely delightful. She had been about to swallow them together when the female shrinkie had begun shouting and thrashing about, so Rosalie had held her on the tongue a moment longer, the better to savor her activity.

The new tiny continued her delightful defiance. She continued to scream and fight, yelling curses, the poor dear. It was a pleasant addition to the other shrinkie who was still barely struggling.

Still, Rosalie couldn’t play with them forever. With a gulp, Rosalie swallowed. Once again, she was not disappointed. The terrified screams of both shrinkies faded almost at once, but the sensation…

Wow. Rosalie closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of the two shrinkies squirming so delightfully together. That was fantastic. She had distinctly felt the little lump of food that represented two shrunken people move down her esophagus. She had been fully aware of every inch of their progress before the pair had finally disappeared into her belly.

A smile quirked at the corners of Rosalie’s full lips. Those two had been positively delicious. She looked back at her box. She was going to eat two more together. And maybe, she pondered to herself, I can swallow three at once.

***

Miriam

Rosalie’s esophagus

8:59 AM GMT

The powerful contraction of the esophageal muscles pressed Miriam and her companion together, forcing them DOWN deeper and deeper into the young Canadian’s body.

Her screams were lost in the blackness. The esophageal muscles contract around her, pressing the air out of her lungs with massive pressure. Miriam beat against her progress, trying to dig her fingers into the smooth slick muscles that surrounded them as they half-fell, half were forced down this black, biological well.

Miriam’s fingers pushed and clawed at the fleshy walls, desperate for leverage or purchase or anything, a hold in this situation. But she found none. It was smooth, wet, and slick. She couldn’t hold on to anything, no matter how hard she tried.

The other man who had been swallowed with her was struggling too. Some innate survival instinct had kicked in, and he too thrashed and bucked accordingly as they were conveyed together down a dark, long, living tube. They fought against Rosalie, a confused tangle of slimy arms and legs.

None of it mattered.

A moment later they were expelled into the stomach. There was a moment of freefall through hot, acidic air. Then-

SPLASH!

They fell into a stomach filled with suspended sediment in unpleasantly warm water. The man who had been swallowed with Miriam struggled back to the surface of the stomach beside her.

Miriam felt the acrid liquid that filled the stomach almost immediately, and it stung. She spit out what had trickled into her mouth and nose, and tried to scrub away any residue of the liquid and saliva from her body.

“Julian!” she screamed. She gasped, taking a ragged breath of air that felt heavy with moisture and burning with acid. “Julian,” she choked again.

A hand grabbed her. “I’m here,” said a voice. She gripped the hand like it was a lifeline. She turned towards the sound but in the blackness of the stomach, she couldn’t see a thing.

“Julian!” she cried again, this time with relief. They hugged in the darkness.

“Oliver is here too. He’s still here.”

“Miriam,” said Oliver’s voice. It sounded pained and haggard, but it was him.

“It’s my fault we’re all here,” Miriam broke down. “It’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s not your fault. It’s Vortex,” Julian replied. “They are the ones who-”

New screams emanating from above them sounded in the dark chamber. They fell into the stomach with a splash. New arrivals. They surfaced not far away, one screaming for help, the other simply crying.

“We’re going to die here,” said Miriam.

“But we are together,” Julian reassured her.

As if needing the final word, the stomach rumbled with ominous foreboding. Rosalie’s digestive system was beginning to gear up.

The three of them tread water together in a circle, taking what comfort they could from one another’s presence. They stayed together when two more people fell into the stomach a moment later. Suddenly there was a violent rush of water, washing them about. Miriam struggled to swim to the surface. When the stomach settled as much as it did, she was clinging to the side of a slowly moving stomach wall, trying to keep from slipping beneath the water. The walls were too slick to climb, but she was able to cling to them just enough to help remain on the surface.

“Oliver? Julian?” She cried out to them in the darkness. She thought she heard an answer, but it was drowned out as the stomach rumbled yet again. For a moment, the acids were more diluted, their concentration reduced by the large drink of water Rosalie had just taken. But after a moment the acidic burn returned, seemingly even more fierce than before.

In the darkness of Rosalie’s belly, Miriam clung to life, listening to the wails of her fellow shrinkies as they cried for help that would never come.

Twenty minutes later, the last shrinkie would fall silent. Miriam, who had managed to stay alive through it all, still clung to the side of the stomach. Her body was badly burned, her strength fading. The lack of cries struck her as horrifying. Only a moment ago it had been a place of constant shouts for help. Now, there was only the ominous sound of the stomach gurgling, briefly interrupted by rumbling thunder as Rosalie apparently concluded her meal with a short, content burp.

Miriam sobbed. Her brother was gone. Her friend was gone. Soon she would be gone too. Then Rosalie would digest them all and they would become part of her.

She slipped beneath the water, unable to hold on any longer.

***

Rosalie

Sky Canada Flight 9638

09:12 AM EST

The wheels touched down, sending a rumble through the cabin that slowly ground to a low roll. A moment later, Severine’s voice echoed throughout the cabin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of all of us on board, welcome to Canada. Please remain seated until the airplane has come to a complete stop.” Switching easily over to French, Severine repeated the announcement. “Mesdames et messieurs, bienvenue à Canada. Nous vous demandons de rester assis jusqu'à l'arrêt complet de l'avion.” Hesitating for the briefest of moments during which Rosalie knew Severine was thinking through her next words, she spoke in a somewhat uncertain German. “Meine Damen und Herren, im Namen von uns allen an Bord möchte ich Sie in Kanada willkommen heißen. Bitte bleiben Sie noch einen Augenblick sitzen, bis das Flugzeug zum völligen Stillstand gekommen ist.“

Rosalie waited along with the rest of the crew as the plane made its way to the gate. Once the fasten seatbelt sign was turned off, passengers began to stand and collected their baggage from the overhead bins. A few made telephone calls.

Rosalie waved goodbye to the passengers as they disembarked the plane. There was the cute boy who was almost too afraid to talk to her. There was that poor old woman who had been afraid of turbulence. She gave only a polite nod to the man who had asked for her number.

After a while, all the passengers were gone. Rosalie gathered her things and walked gratefully from the plain. From there it was only a short walk to her car. Meanwhile, deep inside her intestines, the digested remains of a dozen shrunken people sloshed around, slowly being broken down into nutrients that Rosalie would absorb over the next few hours.

It was a twenty-minute drive home, but when she reached her apartment, the young woman walked inside with a sigh of relief. She changed into running clothes, then did a twenty-minute jog outside. She didn’t run for distance but did the same hundred-meter sprint up a long hill near her home, walking back down each time to start again. After being cooped up in a plane all day it felt good to stretch her legs. Returning home, she took a shower, then made a simple but healthy meal of chicken and vegetables. After eating, she loaded her dishes into the sink and collapsed onto the couch, drifting off to sleep for a few hours.

She dreamed sweet dreams of flying in a faraway land, where she met a handsome prince named Thaddee who asked her to marry him and help benevolently rule his kingdom. After she was made queen, she was appointed a page who placed a crown on her head. The page looked just like the young man who had been so shy towards her on the plane. Somehow, the name Julian came to her mind. Though she had barely registered the name, her subconscious recalled hearing it the day before.

“Thank you, Julian,” she said as the boy laid the crown on her head.

“You’re welcome, Your Majesty. Though my name is not Julian. That was your last Page, but you ate him.”

“Oh right,” Rosalie remembered. “Don’t worry. I am sure you will do such a good job as a page that I won’t have to eat you too.” She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and the boy smiled at her.

She awoke just as she was riding her winged unicorn around her new kingdom with Thaddee.

Rosalie stretched, then got up to make herself some coffee. She had the day off and she didn’t want to waste it. After all, she was flying back to Germany the day after tomorrow.

She walked to a nearby gym, then worked out for a little over an hour. After returning home, she showered and went to bed for good. The next morning, she met a friend for coffee and breakfast. The afternoon was reserved for doing laundry while she spent time leisurely reading. She had dinner with her parents at their home and walked about the block with them afterwards. Then she returned to her little apartment. By the following morning, the flight attendant was back at the airport.

***

Rosalie

Grocery store, somewhere in Germany

A few days later

Rosalie walked past the display of cereal boxes and stepped into to the aisle containing Vortex products. There were the typical advertisements of young men and women holding the plastic boxes. One even showed a picture of that Polish fitness model Anastazja Kamińska. She was holding a box of shrinkies in her left hand and seemed to be offering another with her right. Thankfully, she was not as scantily clad as in many of her other advertisements. In this picture, she simply wore spandex pants and a cutoff shirt with the swirling Vortex logo on its front.

They probably needed a less ostentatious advertisement for a family friendly establishment, Rosalie thought to herself. She remembered the licentious photograph she’d seen of the Polish model in the magazine the other day. That would hardly would have been appropriate for a grocery store. It isn’t appropriate for a magazine either. I can’t imagine putting myself on display while totally naked. Rosalie grimaced at the idea of a bunch of strangers looking at her naked. She certainly wouldn't want that.

Rosalie's attention returned to the available Vortex Foods boxes. The store had clearly restocked since she’d been here a few days ago. Rosalie’s green eyes roamed the shelves. Inside the boxes, shrinkies stared back at her, some clearly afraid, others beyond fear and simply bored, waiting for whomever would eat them.

Simply seeing the shrinkies in their little cubes was enough to make Rosalie’s mouth water. She hadn’t eaten any shrinkies since she had last been here. Maybe she would treat herself and get a medium box, rather than a small one. The medium boxes were on the lowest shelf. She bent over to grab one of them.

Several dozen shrinkies looked up in terror as she grabbed the box. Some of them moved about, making Rosalie smile. They certainly looked lively, which-

Something pressed against Rosalie’s bottom. Rosalie jumped, immediately straightening up as she turned to look behind her.

She found herself staring into a familiar face; it was the very same blonde woman who had given her the box of shrinkies in this store last time. Like herself, the other woman had been looking at the display on the other side of the aisle. They had simultaneously bent over to reach for something on the lowest shelf. Rosalie realized that her bottom had bumped against the other woman’s rear as they had bent over.

Neither Rosalie nor the other woman knew it, but in the brief moment in which their behinds had touched, Miriam and Julian Lindner were, in a sense, briefly reunited with their parents Wolfgang and Ulrike. Some of both Miriam and Julian Lindner were now a part of Rosalie’s buttocks, which had pressed against what the other woman had absorbed of Wolfgang and Ulrike Lindner into her own. For an instant, the four family members were pressed together in a post-digestive facsimile of reunion, now nothing more than fat and muscle on the bodies of the women who had eaten them.

Neither woman was aware of this connection, nor would they have cared had they known.

“Mon Dieu,” said Rosalie, reverting to her native French for the briefest of moments. Switching over to German, she greeted the lady. “Please excuse me, Madame.”

The German woman had turned around just as quickly. Hand on chest, her blue eyes were wide as she looked back at Rosalie.

There was a moment of shared amusement as the two women realized what had happened.

“You are back visiting us again. Stocking up for another flight?” asked the German woman, her eyes moving from Rosalie to the box of shrinkies in her hand.

“Exactly,” Rosalie replied, flashing the woman a cheerful grin. “How nice to see you again.”

“Mom,” said a nearby voice of a young woman, speaking in German. Rosalie and the other woman turned to see an attractive university aged girl walking up the aisle. She looked quite similar to her mother, save for the fact that she was about half her age. This surprised Rosalie a little; the woman must have either had her when she had been quite young herself, or was actually older than she looked.

“Konstantin says he is running behind. Can you drop me off at his place?”

“Of course, Lisa,” said the German woman.

Lisa stopped beside her mother, curiously looking at Rosalie with the same clear blue eyes. Then she smiled kindly, pearly white teeth showing between her soft lips.

While Wolfgang and Ulrike Lindner had been eaten by her mother, Denise Lindner had ended up being eaten by Lisa. Like her siblings and parents, the nutrients her consumer had absorbed had been distributed throughout her body, particularly adding to the girl’s breasts and her buttocks. Lisa cocked her hip to one side, causing her butt cheeks to shift. What remained of Denise gently wobbled along with them, hidden away beneath a pair of tight-fitting jeans.

This was the closest proximity the Lindner family would ever be to one another again, all five of them now part of the three women who had eaten them. As they waved goodbye to each other, Lisa and her mother walked in one direction, Rosalie the other.

As Miriam, Julian, and Oliver were now part of Rosalie’ blood, flesh and bones, they went with her. All of them had been absorbed throughout her body, becoming part of her arms and legs, her abdomen, her breasts, her buttocks, her eyelashes, her blood, her skin, her hair, her sweat, even her brain. Rosalie would never think about them ever again and had already half forgotten about them. Despite this, they would be a part of Rosalie forever.

The Vortex box in her hand was held before her. Inside the box, a dozen shrinkies looked up in fear. They knew the beautiful woman who had bought them would eventually eat them. But even they never knew the names of the people she’d eaten before, or whom she would eat on trips to come.

The End.