The girl lay there on her bed, utterly naked, utterly beautiful. Her hair lay around her head like a brown halo, falling away in all directions from the center, stretching out for nearly a foot before ending. Her breasts rose and fell to the rhythm of her breathing. She was perfect in the eyes of the man on her lips: breasts the size of pomegranates, a belly that curved inward from the sides and stayed flat on the top, a little patch of downy hair just above the lips she hid from the world. It seemed she did not know he was there. He wished she did; it would have made his life much easier.
He had awoken in her room, the size of a small ant, the day before. He had no idea how he had gotten there or how he had become so small and it was not his fate to learn that secret. The place he had awoken had been interesting: he had found himself in the sleeping girl’s cleavage, open to all the world in the privacy of her bedroom at night. It had taken him quite some time to realize where he was, and even longer to accept that this was, in fact, reality. His memory was hazy at best. He could not recall his name or anything but his language.
When the girl had risen in the morning, he had already climbed down the side of her ribcage and was safely off her body; he had not fallen off her chest and splattered on the bed, as he feared he might have had he not moved quickly after awakening. He had spent the rest of that day sitting next to her pillow, hoping to get her attention that night when she lay down in bed. He had failed.
His first idea was to climb up to her ear to get her attention. He attempted to do this by climbing up a strand of her hair. Not long after he had grabbed onto it, her cell phone rang and she answered it. The hair he was on flew into her mouth along with several others and he was pulled loose of it. He had floated around in her mouth during her conversation, screaming all the while for fear of being swallowed. She hadn’t suspected his presence at all. Late in the conversation she laughed heartily and he flew out of her mouth, landing on the bed underneath her titanic breasts. When she hung up and lay down, she had picked him up on the side of her breast; he was not crushed, fortunately for him and the story. He spent much of that night stuck to her breast, crying, and finally fell asleep there. That night, he had nightmares of mouths the size of the moon competing to eat him and breasts the size of the Earth crushing him.
When he awoke, it was to the sound of the girl’s alarm clock. Before he could try to force himself free of her breast, the girl had risen from her bed and walked over to the pile of laundry on her floor. She piced up a bra and put it on, saving our protagonist from a bloody fate on the floor, but sentencing him to a day of being crushed between the fabric of the bra on one side and the giant breast’s flesh on the other. Fortunately, it seemed he did not need to breathe, and he survived the ordeal no worse for the wear. After a day of bouncing up and down with the enormous breast before him, and several orgasms over the course of the day (she had itched at him each time he came; he felt some hope each time, praying that she would take her bra off and notice him. No such luck, though), she took the bra off to sleep, once again in the nude. He had cried then, and determined to end his pitiful existence as less than an annoyance to the only being in his world.
He had begun the trek down her breast and over her neck not long after she fell asleep. Her jaw had posed some trouble, but at his size he had no trouble finding handholds. Finally, after what seemed like days of travel (it had, in fact, been an hour), he arrived at her lips. They were pursed in sleep at the moment, but he had patience. He sat on the crack dividing them, waiting for them to open. Before long his wait was over.
The lips parted, affording him a vision of the pink monstrosity that lived behind them. It emerged slowly and licked at the walls that trapped it in its moist prison. The lick started opposite from him and moved at what seemed to him like a snail’s pace around, finally scooping him up when its circuit was nearly completed. It returned to the mouth, and he was tossed around for a minute. It was terrifying for him. He could see nothing, but he could feel the heat and wetness of the mouth around him in ways he had never thought possible. He was nearly drowned in the girl’s saliva, terrified of the death that awaited him; waiting in religious anticipation of the liberation from the hell he had found himself in. Finally, after an eternity, she swallowed.
He felt himself pressed against the roof of her mouth and pulled backwards along with enough saliva to fill an Olympic swimming pool ten times over. He felt the push and pull of peristalsis in the throat as he was dragged in terror and anticipation toward the girl’s cavernous stomach.
He fell into the acids waiting below him with a scream in his lungs and a prayer on his lips. He kicked and screamed for a solid half hour before he finally grew too tired to fight it anymore. He fell asleep, and the acids had their way with him. In wakefulness, he had been invincible, but in sleep, he was terribly mortal and died in only a few minutes.
Katie woke up in the morning and rubbed her gurgling belly. She was starving. She put on her bra and panties and moved into the kitchen to make some breakfast.
The man woke up once again between her breasts. When she rose, he fell and came to rest between the lips of her pussy. He did not remember how he had gotten there, and he did not know where he was or who he was, and he did not remember the events of the past few days. But the girl did. She had bought him a year before in a pet store. He had been her constant companion ever since, dying in some way in or on her body almost every day and coming back to life between her breasts every night. She didn’t usually know where he was, but when she felt him crawling on her body she felt a rush of sexual exhileration unlike anything else she had ever experienced.