February 2005, Boatstreamingin Cove…
“We could come to a profitable arrangement with you, you know,” said Farik See.
“So you think you can deal with me now, do you?” asked the voice, “To someone who can do what I can do, what would the petty achievements of your criminal cartel be able to offer?”
“We’re rich enough to write million dollar cheques every day for the rest of our lives,” said Farik, “You could have the whole damn world in your own Swiss bank account.”
“You genocidal bastards!” said the voice, “I doubt that dollars are the currency where you’re going.”
Farik was the next to suffer disappearance by shrinking.
September 6th 2001…
Blissfully unaware of the fate that would await six global crime masters in less than four years time, Louise Waters’ mind was very much on Phil Hermuth, as she waited in hope for his next reply. Nothing else would bring her days to life now. For so long she had considered a guy like Phil to be nothing more than a fantasy. Now he was at least a name and a face in cyberspace, and how she longed for him to be so much more … or after reduction: so much less.
At last, to her joy and considerable relief his reply finally came.
“Darling Louise, I’m sorry for the delay in returning your fascinating email with all its delightfully scary questions. I was sick with indigestion last night and went straight to bed, finding it hard to sit up straight and go on the computer. I’m fine now. To answer your question, I think I would love to be eaten by you, if I could go out with you first, both as a normal sized guy in the usual cuddly and kissy way, and then as a shrunken guy. So if you would be willing to let us do things that way, then yes, I really would like to be actually eaten by you. Is this what you literally want too, or would it just be role play even if you could shrink me?”
What a question, she thought, and could hardly wait to answer it.
“I think I’d love to date a handsome guy like you in the manner you suggest, both at your full size and then after shrinking you … just so long as you knew where you’d be going in a few days. And can I say that I’m sure you wouldn’t make ME sick with indigestion. I’d be friendly and affectionate, and give you all the love you’d ever want, but I’d certainly eat you in the end.”
September 7th, 2001…
“I wouldn’t mind being eaten in the least if you did everything as you described first,” wrote Phil, “I have thought of one more part to the fantasy though, which I hope you wouldn’t mind enacting for me first. I’d really like you to put on a long feminine dress, with short sleeves and a reach to a few inches below your knees, and chase me through a garden and catch me and cook me first, just enough to warm me up without burning me of course, maybe in a nice pavlova you could then eat around me. Oh how I can imagine watching that pavlova being spooned onto your tongue and going down your throat, knowing that it would not be long before I was next. I’d love to see you licking the spoon each time too. Would you mind factoring those scenes into the voreplay?”