Rebecca

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

You are in an indie comic shop, just browsing, hanging out. It was just you in there, until she walked in. Her face, round a freckled. Super piercing blue eyes and wavy brunette hair. Her body is a bit pudgy. Certainly curvy. A bit pale, but not too pale.  

You want to say something to her. But you remember that reddit post you just read. About how annoying it is to be a girl in nerd spaces and constantly have people hitting on you. So, you decide to go about your business. The person behind the counter goes to get something in the back room. You feel someone tap on your shoulder.

When you turn around, it’s her! This cute girl wants your attention!

            “I’m Rebecca.” she says.

            “Oh, hi. I’m—” you start.

            “That’s not important.”

            There’s a flash of light and your brain goes fuzzy. When your brain unfuzzes, you look up to see some kind of mountain or something in front of you. A curvy mountain. You realize it’s Rebecca. She’s now terrifying to you and you try to run. The absolute tree trunks of her fingers reach down. You feel an enormous pressure as they squeeze you, easily catching you. Her fingers bring you to her left boob and sneak you into her bra.

Her massive areola presses against you on one side, while her bra presses against the other. Things stay this way for a while. At some point you think you hear a car starting, but everything is muffled by her soft, warm skin. Her nipple gets harder and sweatier. A slippery space opens up and you slide from her nipple, to her cleavage. There, the vibrations of her car, jiggle her freckled, soft skin against your body. The warmth and her calm heartbeat, would be soothing in any other circumstance.

You’re pinned by her boobs in a way, that you’re stuck looking up at her face. It seemed so cute a sweet a minute ago. Now her never ending smile, seems much more sinister.  More bouncing, as she walks from her car, inside her house. Going up the steps, the jiggling intensifies until…..PLINK! She drops you in a clear jar. You look around at the largest bedroom you’ve ever seen!

Days, weeks, months go by. To the point that you’ve started losing track of days. You’re just watching her life go by. And have been doing so long enough, to have a sense of her routine.

Thoughts like "oh it must be Wednesday, she's doing laundry," become common.

And all the other tinies she captures, she eats immediately. At least in a relative sense. Sometimes there's a few hours of her teasing her pussy with them. And every so often one of them spends a day or two in there or in her ass. You yourself have become quite familiar with what it’s like to spend an hour or day or more, squeezed by the slimy, fleshy folds of her rectum.

Or having your screams turn into bubbles in the fluid her pussy gushes over you. Its tight muscles squeezing your tiny body.

You always dry heave, as she brings you closer to her giant, wrinkled labia, knowing this is coming. Those thick thighs you found so enticing the first time you saw her, now disgust you. They obscure a slimy slit, monstrous hole, and sweaty forest of brunette pubes. Ones you’ve spent days pressed against, in the confines of her damp panties. So, you know she’s not keeping you, to spare you pain.  

            In fact, every now and again she dangles you over her mouth. And you can see chords of saliva going from the bumpy roof to her mouth to her squishy, slimy, glistening tongue. Food clumps wadded in her gums. Her humid, rank breath hitting you. You've noticed she only does this when snacking on sour cream and onion chips. It's clearly a deliberate choice.  

And you watch the hypnotic movement of her plump lips every time saying the same thing, "one day," before dipping you in her mouth for a fraction of a second.

Every time dropping you back in your jar. Now once again, you’re stuck in the jar, watching this squishy mountain game for hours. You see her sweat collect on her chair and think about all the times you've been in her sweaty bra or panties. Not to mention in the slimy holes her panties conceal. In these instances, her fluids and sweat mix and coat your body. You shiver and feel nauseous, just thinking about it.

Rebecca looks so sweet. She gets all dolled up to game. Her hygiene and appearance are like your life…there for her. Things that make her feel cute and powerful. She pinches you up, out of the jar. She lodges you in her massive, soft cleavage. You feel her warmth and soft skin. There's actually a pleasant smell in the times. At least for a bit. She games for hours on end. Her various keystrokes and mouse clicks, ripple into little jiggles of her big tits. And she does it for hours on end. That’s when the pleasant smell and sensation is replaced by sweat.

But that's the torture. Not any one activity. But all of it, combined with the knowledge that something worse is on its way. You've seen too many bulges, that used to be struggling tinies in her pussy or ass go down her throat, to kid yourself. Part of you wants her to do it just to get it over with.

“GrRRgGHhh,” you hear her stomach, roar up to you.

But a part of you is still delusional, a small part fraction of a percent, but enough to poison your mind, make you afraid…..

The sweat pools more and more and you slip from her tits, slide down her torso and you reel in disgust. This has happened many times before. You always hear the boom of what would be her sweet voice, if you were regular sized.

Instead it's always thunder saying, "as long as your making your way down…”

You hear this again and brace yourself. The shadow of her freckled, slightly chubby hand, looms over you. It pushes you past her waist. A true swamp awaits you. Her thicket of curly brunette pubes is like a rain forest. All the heat and humidity and wetness. But it's not rain it's sweat and vaginal fluids.

Her fingers, the tree trunks in this forest, bring you once again to her wet pussy. You dry heave, thinking you are about to enter her.

"Actually….those aren't the lips I want to put you in…"

The statement is too terrifying to comprehend. As is the speed at which you fly

from her wrinkled labia lips, to those plump red lips. She looks like she going to say something

but instead she just smiles and SQEULCH, lets you fall on her slimy tongue. You fall face first into a chip clump. Her lips close at a torturously slow rate. All the tinies you saw become bulges in her throat, they all tried to make dash for her lips. They failed. Which is why her smile is so broad. She knows you'll fail.

And she can feel you slipping and sliding on her slimy tongue. The only reason you're not currently shrouded in darkness is how wide she's smiling. But you're so close to escaping. Maybe you could be the one. And if you can escape her mouth, maybe you can escape her room. If you can escape her room, you might be able to get big again and be free. That's when the light starts to fade.

Her lips purse and an object of some kind blocks the opening. You are hit with a gush of mountain dew and the current knocks you across her squishy tongue, into her slimy constrictive throat. It squeezes you, with more pressure than you thought it was possible to feel. One might be able to eat a bag of chips and not feel full. But as you splash in a sizeable ocean of truly foul-smelling mush, you wonder how that is possible. You land in the mush on your back and immediately spray your front in your own vomit, reacting to the awful stench. You are thrown around, splashing in the mush and foam.

            “HRrgHHkkHHHgh,” her stomach roars.

Her mucus is getting all over you as her slimy folds squeeze you and hurtle you back into the ocean of mush. There is a disgusting, wet slapping sound. And you're in total darkness, deafened by the  “GGhNHkkHHh” sound of her gurgles and rumbles. A cute noise from outside her stomach. But inside, it’s the sound of torture. You're sloshed around, more dew dumped in from time to time. It's chilled.  Unlike the oppressive heat and humidity.

Every time this carbonated sugar water splashes down, it prods a belch from her. You are lifted almost to her esophagus, only to splash back down in the mush. Tossed around, buried by all the pretzels, chips and dip, bombarding you from above. You notice yourself getting woozier. Clumps of hair coming out. Rebecca keeps gaming. Continues enjoying her afternoon. As her gurgling stomach destroys you and you feel yourself fading away...