I - The world, as it were sewn

For countless years, the world witnessed the coexistence of two distinctive yet intertwined communities: the Tinies and the Standards. The first years were characterized by chaos and disorder as the two groups struggled to coexist. The assimilation of the Tinies into the domain of the Standards posed an endless challenge throughout history. Various parties pushing for integrating these disparate populations highlighted two significant issues that hindered progress: the exorbitant costs associated with specialized Tiny services and the unfortunate occurrence of ‘accidental’ deaths.

The dream of universally merging life for the Tinies and Standards seemed insurmountable, as the hurdles appeared impassable. However, the year 2104 inscribed a turning point in this account of division. The protagonist, Marcus Lowman, was an innovative scientist devoted to the Tinies’ cause. Lowman’s brainchild was the anti-shrinkage device (ASD) – a groundbreaking invention that would forever alter the dynamics between these discordant communities.

Lowman’s motivations were profoundly personal, rooted in his desire to lead an ordinary life alongside his Standard wife and children on Europa. The ASD (Anti-Shrinkage Device) emerged as a beacon of hope, promising a bridge between the Tinies and Standards. Upon its unveiling, the ASD proved to be nothing short of revolutionary. It ushered in an era of mass harmony by allowing Tinies to temporarily assume a regular size for a predefined duration. This temporal conversion offered Tinies a glimpse into the commonplace reality that Standards took for granted.

However, the ASD’s potential came at a high price. For consistent operation, it required extensive amounts of power, relying on rare and precious energy sources harnessed from Europa. The original launch of the device was accompanied by a hefty cost, mainly due to the scarcity of these specialized energy resources. Over time, advancements in machinery and resource control led to a steady price reduction of the Europa energy sources. Consequently, what was once a luxury for a privileged few became accessible to a broader spectrum of Tinies.

While the ASD represented a a significant stride towards unity, it was not without its ramifications. The duration of temporary growth varied from one individual Tiny to another, introducing an a factor of unpredictability. Moreover, some unfortunate cases experienced side effects that ranged from spontaneous shrinkage or growth to even the fatal occurrence of death. These setbacks underscored the delicate nature of tinkering with the very fabric of existence.

As history marched forward, Marcus Lowman’s legacy endured. The ASD continued to perform as a a token of humanity’s relentless pursuit towards harmony and understanding. The Tinies and Standards, once worlds apart, now shared a common thread, thanks to one remarkable individual. The journey towards integration was far from over, but the ASD had laid the foundation for a more inclusive and interconnected world; however, for George Ackley, the ASD would fail him at his most dangerous moment.

II - To be a lucky one

Amidst the whirlwind of movement that characterized the bustling airport terminal, George settled with an air of tranquility that seemed to set him apart from the circling chaos. The ebb and flow of travelers rushing to catch their flights, the monotonous announcements echoing through the terminal, none of it phased him. This was a plot he was all too familiar with, just another average flying occasion for him. He was a seasoned and regular flier, a matter that resonated with his position as a mechanical engineer specializing in the domain of automated cars. His job was nothing short of intriguing, and it was a profession that often required him to cut across the skies.

The purpose of his present trip had a particular professional flair. His destination was Japan, a country synonymous with mechanical innovation and meticulous craftsmanship. Specifically, he was en route to Fujioka Motors – a name that carried prestige in the sphere of automated vehicles. George’s anticipation was palpable; the prospect of this visit was a source of genuine excitement for George. He viewed it as a rare privilege to be granted a firsthand look at cutting-edge innovation: Fujioka Motors’ newest line of ASD-integrated cars. The concept of cars designed to accommodate both regular-sized Standards and their Tiny counterparts was a testament to the strides made in reconciling the two worlds.

As George’s thoughts oscillated on what lay ahead, a sense of satisfaction enveloped him. His role as a mechanical engineer allowed him to not only witness but actively contribute to the very technology that ignited his passion. George could make a tangible difference in the lives of Tinies who wished to seamlessly transition between sizes, thanks to the ASD-integrated vehicles. This alignment between his occupation and his values lent him a strong sense of purpose.

George's confidence was also deeply rooted in the meticulous preparation he had undertaken. As the sun had set on the eve of his departure, he had devoted a substantial amount of time to the intricate task of self-calibrating the ASD. With painstaking attention to detail, he had pain-stakingly adjusted every parameter, leaving no room for error or oversight. Such thoroughness wasn't uncommon for ASD users. Lowman Technologies wished to eradicate the once-prevailing stigma attached to ASD failures. Over the years, advancements in technology, safety protocols, and rigorous testing had rendered these failures increasingly rare, and George was well aware of the progress that had been made. Yet, his growing inherent skepticism compelled him to take every measure possible to ensure his peace of mind.

This cautious attitude had led him to seek out the services of an on-site technician from Lowman Technologies, stationed at the airport specifically to cater to the needs of ASD users like himself. With a genuine smile, the technician had greeted George and quickly finalized the ASD screening. George's wrist, now adorned with the ASD, was handed back to him,

“All set.” The ASD technician weakly smiled at George and handed him his wrist back with his ASD in-hand.

“You can never be too cautious, right?” George firmly strapped the ASD onto his forearm. With a subtle click and minor rattle, it successfully bound to his forearm and beeped.

"Yeah," the technician responded.

With a dismissive scoff, the technician began the process of packing away his tools and logging off his adjacent terminal. His demeanor betrayed a hint of disdain, reflecting the sentiment that, despite the improvements, ASDs still imposed an unwarranted inconvenience. 

"If I had to deal with that garbage just to fly, I'd probably stay home," he quipped, the irony of his own profession not lost on him.

He eyed George’s ASD and paused in self-reflection, “You take for granted being one of the lucky ones…" the technician continued, a touch of gratitude underscoring his words. "-hey, more power to you. Glad to help."

George nodded to him and waltzed into the hustle and bustle of the airport. With a slight rumble, George’s stomach provided a gentle reminder of a more basic human need. As he surveyed the array of food options laid out for the Standards, he couldn't help but marvel at the sheer abundance available to them. The spectrum of choices was staggering, a stark contrast to the limited offerings that Tinies like himself were accustomed to. Pizza, hamburgers, sandwiches – the possibilities seemed endless. This cornucopia of flavors left George feeling almost spoiled for choice.

Yet, as he found himself enticed by the aroma of freshly baked pizza and the alluring display of One More Slice pizzeria, the familiar intercom broke his culinary reverie. The announcement for his flight's boarding echoed through the terminal, injecting a sense of urgency into his leisurely pause. The anticipation of relishing a specialty pie was put on hold as he swiftly gathered his belongings and navigated the winding path toward his designated gate.

III - Mine or yours

"Your private seat, sir," the stewardess announced with a polite smile, her finger subtly pointing to the designated spot on George's ticket. Meeting her gaze, George acknowledged her gesture with a nod of gratitude. Yet, even as he did, he couldn't help but notice her fleeting glance toward the ASD device securely fastened to his forearm. The small, almost imperceptible motion betrayed her curiosity, her subtle attempt to decipher the nature of the device that set him apart from her.

"Thank you," George replied warmly, his response infused with a sense of appreciation for her assistance. As he adjusted his carry-on bag and positioned himself to move towards his seat, he couldn't shake the awareness of the lingering intrigue that his ASD seemed to evoke with Standards.

Navigating the narrow aisle of the aircraft, George was greeted by the reassuringly familiar ambiance of an airplane cabin. Passengers were settling into their seats, the rhythmic hum of conversation mingling with the soft hum of cabin systems. The interplay of anticipation and relaxation was palpable, each traveler immersed in their unique blend of excitement, routine, or quiet contemplation.

Finding his designated private seat, George stowed his bag in the overhead compartment with practiced efficiency. The sight of his seat prompted a subtle moment of reflection – a silent acknowledgment of the journey ahead. As he settled into his seat, a subtle smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Normalcy – the feeling of being among the other Standard passengers, his stature and presence unremarkable in the best way. He relished in the anonymity that he hadn't always been able to enjoy. There was a gratifying simplicity in being just another passenger, a regular traveler navigating the familiar rituals of air travel. George had grown weary of being noticed. He longed to transcend the novelty and embrace the mundane, to be free from the constant scrutiny that accompanied his size-altering device. He yearned to be just a face in the crowd, to fade into the grayness of mundane society. This feeling of belonging, of blending seamlessly with the Standards, was a privilege that the ASD granted him.

“Oh! You’re in my seat.”

The words were spoken with a blend of astonishment and playful amusement. The voice immediately captured his attention and he gazed towards the source of the dialogue. Before him stood a striking full-figured woman with long blonde hair appeared before him. She filled his entire vision. Her frame, voluptuous. Her thighs, soft and substantial. His eyes traced the contours of her shape. She dressed in a comfortable yet stylish ensemble. Her upper half was adorned with a simple yet chic black tank top that embraced her structure. Around her wrists, an assortment of bangles and bracelets. A soft, flowy cardigan in a muted burgundy draped over her shoulders. Comfy yoga pants embraced her buttocks with grace. A pair of pristine white sneakers, decorated with clean lines and overall minimalist design, covered her wide soles. George was caught off guard by her presence and assertion. He peered upwards at her and responded with a minor note of surprise and uncertainty,

“Uh- maybe there’s a mistake?” His voice carried an air of apology, his confusion evident as he motioned his ticket towards her, offering it as truth of his rightful place.

The woman's lips curved into a warm smile as she compared her ticket to his, revealing a twist of fate. "Weird. They both say C4. What're the odds, huh?" Her laughter was infectious, a melodious sound that echoed through the cabin. She leaned against his chair, the proximity between them drawing a curious mixture of excitement and unease. As George felt the gentle press of her presence against his seat, his heart rate quickened, the aura of her confidence and charm enveloping him.

"No worry! I'll figure it out with the stewardess." Her words were delivered with a reassuring smirk that set George at ease. He accepted his ticket back from her with a grateful nod, watching as she continued down the aisle with a confident stride. Her departure carried a sense of anticipation, a sort of unspoken promise that the situation would be resolved with ease.

As George's gaze followed her, a mixture of relief and curiosity washed over him. Her willingness to handle the mix-up without any signs of irritation or frustration was a welcome contrast to what could have been an awkward situation. The graceful way in which she had navigated the interaction left him with a lingering sense of admiration.

With a gentle exhale, George glanced out of the window, absorbing the sight of the airport terminal view. George's thoughts meandered as he leaned softly back in his seat, ready to take-in the scenery of the trip. The gentle hum of the airplane's engines served as a soothing backdrop to his contemplative thoughts. His body eased softly inwards against the cushioned upholstery. He looked forward to absorbing the ever-changing landscape, savoring the rhythmic dance of clouds against the cerulean canvas. Then, the moment was disrupted as an unexpected wave of nausea washed over him.

His body tensed instinctively, and his gaze darted downward toward the source of his unease – the ASD device securely bound to his forearm. His heart raced, but his fingers remained poised, ready to react. A fleeting glance confirmed his fear – the device wasn't functioning. Panic surged within him as he wrestled with the implications. His stomach churned, mirroring the chaos within his mind. Should he raise the alarm? Call for assistance? The urge to take action warred with the fear of drawing attention to himself.

The cabin remained a symphony of uninvolved passengers, each absorbed in their private worlds of reading, watching, or dozing. George's heart pounded audibly in his ears as he wrestled with his dilemma. Time seemed to stretch, suspended in a tense and uncertain pause.

Then, as if the universe itself had conspired against him, it happened. An abrupt shift rocked his perception of reality, the world around him assuming colossal proportions in a dizzying whirl. The plane's overhead lights bore down on him, intensified to an almost blinding brilliance. A guttural gasp escaped his lips as he realized the inexplicable – he had shrunk back to his Tiny size.

At approximately 1mm, the world that had once felt welcoming had now transformed into an overwhelmingly massive expanse. A muffled symphony of sounds bombarded him, each noise amplified to a cacophony of exhaustion. The once-familiar sights of the aircraft cabin had morphed into a bewildering tableau, each sensation magnified and distorted. In this moment of surreal disconnection, George grappled with a profound sense of vulnerability. His body, now tiny and inconspicuous, was dwarfed by a reality he could barely grasp. The very fabric of his existence had changed, thrusting him into a new reality. He was now feeling fatigued and tired. The world was far too vast for him to navigate, and the idea of him being heard was unfathomable. The magnitude of everything – the sights, the sounds, the people – overwhelmed him, leaving him feeling like an inconsequential speck. And then, amidst this disorienting sea of thoughts, a sudden shift in the atmosphere caught George's attention. His heart seemed to skip a beat then sank into his chest like a stone. From the edges of his perception, a familiar voice reached his ears.

“Yeah, we’d been assigned the same seats- Oh, he must’ve moved!” the woman spoke to the stewardess.

IV - What doesn’t kill you

George gazed up with a mixture of dread and faith as the woman’s lips opened in conversation. He observed her eyes scanning the seat, his miniature heart pounding in his chest as he fiercely wished for her to spot his shrunken form. His world drifted in the balance, the seconds stretching as he clung to the possibility of being liberated from the impending danger.

“No, I haven’t seen him,” the flight attendant responded, her concern focused on her list as she offered the woman assistance. The exchange between the two women unraveled like a silent drama, George an unseen participant caught in the tides of their words.

The woman’s expression shifted, a blend of bewilderment and chagrin clouding her features. 

“Huh. That’s so weird. He was right here a minute ago.” Her voice held a note of dissatisfaction, a tinge of concern that tugged at George from his miniscule vantage point.

“I’m sorry. Maybe check the bathroom, ma’am? Otherwise, we can have someone look for him once we land.” The stewardess’s approach was practical, a lifeline of assistance extended to the woman who had unknowingly become George’s unwitting potential threat.

“Right, right, of course,” the woman responded, the tone of her voice carrying a hint of confusion and dejection. The exchange seemed to conclude, leaving George to grapple with a growing sense of urgency as he realized that his time was promptly dwindling.

A gleam of movement from the woman drew his attention like a magnet, his gaze shifting towards the impending threat. The woman gradually shifted her position above the seat, readying herself to rest in the very place that he occupied. Panic surged within him, a cocktail of fear and desperation that propelled his thoughts into overdrive. His voice, a tiny cry for help, emerged from his lips, a plea that was drowned out by the clamor of the plane’s interior.

The reality of his fate was clear, the looming inevitability of being crushed by the heavy bum of an unsuspecting woman. The notion of being a victim of circumstances was an unsettling thought. 

As George’s thoughts raced, an an abrupt shift from the woman above him brought him to a standstill. In a single, fluid motion, she leaned forward and slid comfortably back into the seat, her body settling into his space. George braced himself, his body tensing with anticipation. He closed his eyes and waited for the crushing impact to come. Seconds passed, each an eternity of tension and terror. And then it was. A realization dawned on him – his body had not been altogether flattened by the woman. The pressure that he had thought to crush him was there, but it was manageable.

Opening his eyes, George understood that he was pressed firmly between the chair and the woman’s rear end. The contact was exceedingly intense, a grand force that pinned him against the upholstery. The sensation was akin to being held in place by an unrelenting vice. While the pressure didn’t prove to be deathly, the fact of the situation was that George did have trouble breathing, and it was incredibly difficult to move.

George took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. With immense effort, he forced his body to relax. His muscles opposed, aching in protest as he allowed his form to yield to the curves of the woman’s behind. The woman’s obliviousness to his plight was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it meant that she wasn’t intentionally trying to employ pressure and put his life at risk. On the other, it meant that he had to navigate this perilous situation without her aid. As her tush pressed him against the fabric, George felt a glimmer of hope – a gradual shift in the woman’s posture. Her movement provided him with a sliver of space, an opportunity to wriggle free from the grip that held him captive.

Gradually, with a mix of perseverance and outright willpower, George managed to wiggle his body into a slightly more favorable position. The intense pressure on his chest lessened, allowing him to take in deeper breaths. As his hands found purchase against the fabric, he inched himself upward, ever so slowly working his way away from the center of the woman’s weight. It was a strenuous process, his movements precise and deliberate as he navigated the treacherous terrain of her groin, thighs, and tush.

With each judicious adjustment of his body, George could feel a renewed surge of confidence. The sensation of his muscles working against the fabric of the seat and the softness of the woman’s bare skin sent shivers of awareness through him. As his hands grazed the skin of her hips and his chest brushed against her rump, a tingling warmth began to multiply throughout his body, both from the effort of his movements and the intimate contact he found himself in. The pressure that once felt suffocating now ignited a peculiar kind of response within him. He couldn’t deny the palpable intimacy of the situation, his senses heightened by the closeness of their bodies.

With each subtle movement, his skin kissed against hers, shooting currents of electricity along his nerves. The warmth, sweetness of her monumental body transferred through him, producing an intoxicating connection that he couldn’t disregard. Perhaps the universe had orchestrated this bizarre scenario to awaken desires he had long kept dormant.

As he inched his way out of the cramped space, George found himself torn between two conflicting urges. The first was the instinct to escape, to extricate himself from the situation that had begun as a life-or-death predicament. The second was the undeniable allure of the sensuous cocoon he found himself in.

His inner struggle was mirrored in his quickened breaths, which now reverberated with a rhythm that seemed attuned to the woman’s presence. Her slight movements, oblivious to his turbulence, continued to provide him both challenge and convenience. With each shift, he felt the layers of her body molding against him.

And then, amidst the turmoil of his inner battle, her scent wafted into his nostrils – a delicate fragrance reminiscent of summer and sunshine. George found himself intoxicated by the aroma, the scent of her body a balm that soothed his fears and stirred his lust. He inhaled deeply, the heady fragrance enveloping his senses and dulling his rationality. His fingers gripped her thighs, his digits sinking into the plush flesh of her hips. His muscles strained against her, his body yearning for more. His eyes widened, the sight of her skin before him, and the realization that the fabric barrier between them was a mere obstacle.

His desire overrode his inhibitions. His thoughts were a tumultuous sea of yearning. His heart, once racing with anxiety, now pounded with anticipation. With his movements, he moved himself closer to her vulva. The thin fabric of her panties did little to conceal the heat and moisture that emanated from her pussy. A rush of excitement rippled through his veins, and the sensation of his own hard cock rubbing against her made his head spin. His puny fingers gripped her, a wordless expression of his lust.

She shifted again, a slight motion that elicited a muted groan from him. Suddenly, her two colossal fingers slid downwards into his immediate area. He could not know the full extent of her movement, but he could sense her hand moving circularly. She was rubbing her clit with her hand, and the pressure was drawing his teeny body further inwards. He could now feel his crotch pushing against her vast clit, which had driven him even further upwards.

The actions of the woman astonished him. Did she feel his tiny body? Did she know he was under her? A force emanated from the woman and her groin appeared to press down upon him with greater and greater force. His tiny body, still fully dressed, was being ground and contorted by the powerful sexual energy that was flowing from the woman above. A deluge of thoughts poured through his mind as his person was dragged further into her pussy. He couldn’t see. The walls of her inner folds swallowed him like the walls of a valley. The force emanating from her vagina was indescribable. His arms flailed as his feet sank into her vagina’s flesh.

“Are you having fun down there?” 

V - In-flight service

The woman's voice, though distorted by the pressure, held an unmistakable note of amusement. It was as if she found the situation more intriguing than alarming. His mind danced on the fringes of uncertainty – could she possibly hear his faint shouts, despite the minuscule size of his voice? 

George shouted at the top of his lungs.

Summoning courage from the depths of his tiny being, George gave his all to shout, the words emerging as barely audible and muffled whispers. A chuckle from above confirmed his suspicion that his efforts had fallen short of catching her attention. Then, as if orchestrated by fate, salvation arrived in the form of her gargantuan fingers. The surreal nature of the moment deepened as he was lifted from his confined space, only to find himself covered in the warmth and stickiness of her juices. With each passing moment, the scope of his surroundings grew. Her massive face came into view, her features magnified beyond comprehension. George was engulfed by the sheer magnitude of her countenance, every detail exaggerated by his miniature perspective. Her lips, the size of grand doorways, held an allure that was impossible to ignore.

She was gorgeous.

As her fingers drew him closer, George's senses were overwhelmed. The warmth of her skin, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, the intoxicating scent of her presence – all of it. His gaze lingered on her lips, his tiny heart racing. The reality of the situation dawned on him, and with it, the realization of his desires. He wanted this.

Her lips parted, and a gentle sigh escaped her.

“You know, with all that early, you nearly gave me away…”

She spoke, her words a sultry melody.

George was speechless, the words failing to leave his lips. The sheer scale of the situation rendered him silent. The woman's mammoth digit stroked his cheek, her touch was electrifying to say the least. He gazed at her, his body trembling. A mischievous smile played across her lips.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything. I’m the guilty one. You think I didn’t see that little thing on your wrist?" The device was still not functioning, and the screen was now cracked from all the excitement earlier. The woman's hand lowered him towards her mouth, the gaping opening revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her cavernous interior.

"Don't worry. I won't hurt you… yet," she purred.

A moment passed, and the woman's tongue emerged from her mouth. The slimy appendage wrapped around his legs, lifting him up towards her lips. George was unable to resist the urge. His body arched and his legs spread wide as her tongue lapped at his tiny body. The woman's lips curled into a smirk. She knew what she was doing. She could see the effect her ministrations had on him. His eyes were wide and his cock was stiff. She could smell the lust emanating from him. The taste of her saliva coated his skin, an intoxicating mixture of musk and salt. The woman's tongue was a massive, thick appendage, its length easily several times longer than George's entire body. It coiled around him, squeezing him gently and teasing him. Her lips parted and he could feel her hot breath on his skin. George could no longer hold back. He moaned softly, his voice a weak, helpless whisper.

"Good boy," the woman murmured, her tongue slipping between his lips."Now cum for me."

She licked and sucked at him, her tongue stroking and prodding him. He writhed and moaned, his tiny body convulsing in pleasure. She took him in her mouth, her tongue caressing and massaging him as he squirmed like an ant. She was relentless, her tongue pressing and probing his cock and little ass, her mouth sucking and slurping at him. George's orgasm was explosive, his cock exploding in a shower of cum, which was eagerly lapped up by the woman's tongue. She continued to suck and lick at him, milking him for every drop of cum. His orgasm seemed to last forever, his tiny body spasming and shaking.

"I'm still hungry." She spoke in a low, seductive voice. George was barely aware of her words, his mind consumed by pleasure.

The woman's mouth closed around him, her tongue and lips sucking and licking at him. He felt himself sliding down her throat, his body engulfed by her wet, warm, velvety flesh. He could feel her throat muscles contracting around him, squeezing and milking him. His cock erupted once again, his cum spurting down her throat.

“Another helping, oh.”

 As he traversed down her dark throat, his tiny limbs and body were pressed tightly against the walls of her esophagus. The fluid pressure of her saliva, a mixture of her own saliva and his cum, lubricated his path, allowing his form to slide effortlessly deeper into her gullet. He felt his tiny feet enter the depths of her stomach, his toes brushing against the soft lining. The gravity of the situation finally hit him. His body had been swallowed by this woman, his form devoured by her hunger. She had claimed him. The woman's voice drifted through the darkness. Her voice was distant and muffled, but the message was clear. This was his final flight.