There was no sense running; even Caleb, in his fear and abject disbelief, was aware of that. He knew that a sprint away from the titanic hand that was extending towards him was a futile gesture, as the colossal woman whose imprisonment he was soon to be under could cover in a mere step or reach what to him was easily half a mile or more. Instead, he simply chose to look on, partially through said terror and partial refusal to believe this was indeed happening as the grasping palm of his worst enemy sailed ever closer to his miniscule form.

It was as if her hand was moving in slow motion; whether that was an illusion due to his terror, the physics of being so much smaller than his colossal kidnapper or simply an intentional move on the part of the giantess to create such an atmosphere was completely unknown and irrelevant to him. It sailed through the air, a gargantuan fleshy behemoth with five huge outstretched digits coming to do God knows what to him. The closer it got, the more Caleb could see of the billboard-sized palm, until it was so close that he could see the lines crossing Miss Blaine’s palm, the massive swirls of her fingerprints, even the beads of sweat that glistened on the warm, pinkish skin. Slowly, her hand changed position as it advanced, seemingly graceful and majestic in its size and movement but equally terrifying given the connotations; Miss Blaine was making to grab him, her thumb and forefinger poised to pinch him between them. It was only then that Caleb could really gain an appreciation for just how small he really was, as the grasping fingers began to fill his vision and he noted that to him, each fingerprint was easily the size of a car to him, the fingers themselves as tall as decent-sized town houses. Caleb couldn’t even begin to fathom the relative size of Miss Blaine compared to himself; and quite frankly, for the preservation of what remained of his sanity, he didn’t want to.

Then, the fingers were either side of him, and all too soon he found himself clamped between the two rough, slightly rubbery pads of his teacher’s fingers. He could feel every ridge of the swirls of her fingerprints, and the warmth and subsequent dampness of her skin from what he realised, with some disgust, was her sweat. The pressure was intense from both sides, just barring being painful but still extremely uncomfortable, and his arms were squeezed into his torso. He felt himself slowly lift off of the ground and into open air, now fully in her grip and being pulled away to what he presumed to be his doom. Slow as it had seemed to be as her hand advanced, the ride back was far faster than he had imagined; at his size, he was travelling at many miles per hour, completely exposed to the elements. The room flew past like the view from an aeroplane window, and a combination of the rushing winds, high g-forces from the acceleration and the continued panic he found himself barely suppressing causing multiple waves of nausea to wash over him. Higher they climbed, seemingly into the heavens, though Caleb knew that the goddess he was being taken towards was by no means benevolent.  The only constant sight was the plumpish, smiling face of his teacher, the woman now so ostensibly titanic that to the young student she could easily be considered deific, getting ever larger as he was pulled towards it, until mercifully the flying stopped. Quickly looking around to assess his new position, he realised he was high enough off the ground for any fall to end very nastily for him, and close enough to her face that it filled his puny vision.

Even from far away, Caleb could see that Miss Blaine’s face was, understandably, large compared to his own; up close it was colossal, enough so to be terrifying all on its own. Looking down upon him, her two hazel eyes now were more akin to massive spotlights, scrutinising every facet of his tiny, naked form and making him feel a sudden self-consciousness that no girl’s judging gaze had ever created. He could see every dimple on her cheeks, every hair on her eyebrows, and every old blemish on her skin. Her nose, though he was still at least a far enough distance from her face that she could see him without stressing her eyes, seemed to loom over him, the two nostrils great cave entrances that he imagined he could easily crawl- or worse, be sucked- into and possibly never come out of again. As she exhaled, a hot gale of air came rushing past him out of the twin tunnels, making his normally perfectly-kept hair fly about wildly and bringing tears to his eyes, dispelling also for a few seconds the sweet if faint aroma of her perfume. Then his gaze moved down to level, and he saw the sight that, upon frantic thought and only amplified now so close to them, actively terrified him most of all the features on her landscape of a face.

Her lips.

Miss Blaine’s lips were as long as at least twenty of himself, and that was at a conservative estimate. Stretched ever further by the threatening and excited smile she still wore, the full, plushy lips, coloured a dull, flesh-like red, were a disarmingly safe-looking yet tremendously scary entrance to what Caleb could only imagine in his fear would be the worst fate for any person his size. As if on cue, the cushiony lips parted to reveal her teeth again, a yellow wall of slimy, smooth, and most importantly deadly-looking boulders that Caleb could now surmise were not only bigger than him, but the largest ones were easily twice the size of him. Slowly, the grin split, and the tiny gang leader had to wonder whether she was going to end it then and there; this was it, his final fate, tossed into the jaws of his worst enemy to be chewed into viscera. But as they opened a fraction, nowhere nearly enough to reveal the horrific sights of what Caleb knew lay inside but didn’t want to see, her colossal tongue poked through from the depths and slithered between her teeth to sluggishly rest on her lower lip. From there, it began to make a slow circle around her plush lips, revealing first the plain of endless taste buds and then the smoother, slimy underside, dull blueish rivers marking the path of the great veins within. As it slithered along, it deposited a smooth sheen of Miss Blaine’s saliva, leaving them somewhat gleaming in the light from the fresh coat of presumably less than fresh oral fluids. The slow, intentionally threatening and disabling nature of her merely wetting her lips was not lost on Caleb, and when he looked up he knew the look in her twinkling hazel eyes very well. Indeed, he reflected, he had been the subject of it many a time, from many a girl; but not quite like this, with nowhere near as deadly circumstances.

Hunger.

The pieces began to fit together in his head, and a terrifying picture began to take shape; one, he realised, that incorporated the horrors he had just now thought he would hope to avoid.

This giant bitch wants to eat us.

Terror, panic and all manner of other emotions flooded his head all at once, but with much effort he was able to suppress them. He knew, he could tell, that to go to his death in fear and broken pleading was exactly what the sociopath in front of him wanted, to break him both physically and psychologically. He knew she could, and by that point knew she would, break him physically. That, surprisingly, he could come to terms with- unless by some miracle he could escape, and he fully intended to search for one, he could see that his death was inevitable in the hands of this woman. He wasn’t stupid; his very condition was clearly no form of shock to his now slightly salivating teacher, and it didn’t take an Einstein to realise she was the cause of it. But much as he was fond of life, especially his own considering how amazing it was, he never had too much of a problem with accepting death, or so he told himself. It was inevitable, after all. But she could never take his mental capacities from him, much as she tried. He knew then, in front of her colossal face, scrutinising gaze and display of hunger, that if he was going to die, he would do it like the king he was. She could send him into the gates of Hell (for, he assumed with some dryness, her gargantuan maw would probably be a fitting metaphor for them, if not even worse) and sentence him to die in her stomach, but he would never let her take his sanity.

He had his mission. He knew what was coming. Closing his eyes, he smiled; he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of watching him react; and waited for the inevitable plunge into his death sentence.

He was very much surprised, therefore, when he suddenly felt the pressure of her fingers release from him, and opening his eyes again he found himself in free fall.

In his shock, he couldn’t even scream for the first instant, instead in stunned silence at this sudden development when he was so sure his lot was to be lost to Miss Blaine’s digestive tract. When the scream finally came, it was lost to the rushing wind and blurred surroundings as he dropped like a stone towards what he presumed would be his inevitable death on the ground. Yet, as the whim of the titaness desired, again he found himself misinterpreting the timing of his demise. Instead of continuing to fall, he found himself impacting soft ground with a muffled thud. He had landed on his front, and the pain at first rippled through his torso, but otherwise, he reasoned, he felt alright; the soft, warm ground had broken his fall. He slowly staggered to his feet again, realising that he was standing on a fleshy platform which almost encircled him; Miss Blaine’s hand. She must’ve moved her hand when she released me from that vice grip she had me in, he reasoned, correctly. In my panic and the blur, I didn’t even see it. Exhaling deeply as his heart rate returned to slightly more normal rates (as much as they could do given the nature of his situation), Caleb craned his neck to look up at the face of Miss Blaine, now partially obscured by her somewhat buxom bosom, and tried to come to terms with the fact that he had just thought himself on the brink of death twice, at the whim of his colossal philosophy teacher, and then had been saved by the whim of the same woman. You’ve proved yourself wrong, you silly tit, he joked to himself dryly, despite everything. All this time you’ve been telling us there is no definitive proof for the existence of God, and now you’ve made yourself one.

“Hehe, not yet. There’s too much fun to be had yet with you, my new little pest. But your time will come…”

Her omnipresent voice once again boomed around him, only amplified by the reverberating walls and partial ceiling of her fingers and hand. Her very skin seemed to vibrate slightly as she spoke, the power of her monolithic vocal chords seeming to resonate through her whole body. Caleb couldn’t help but marvel slightly at the sheer power she had from his perspective; just as everything else in his new massive world, her sheer size compared to him made even the most normal things seem strange, even somewhat alien in their actions. His wonder was rudely interrupted, however, when Miss Blaine’s fingers moved swiftly above her palm, the tips coming to rest on and pressing down the lower part of her palm so they arched over him completely like a living ceiling. Simultaneously, her thumb made a wall where before there had been a hole between her fingers and her palm, and her little finger (still the size of a tall building to the mite trapped within) sealed off the other escape route between it and the plushy palm he was stood on. Darkness now reigned as Caleb found himself confined to the enclosed space within Miss Blaine’s poorly-made fist, now a prisoner of the quickly rising temperature as her body heat found no way to escape and the musky smell of his kidnapper’s hand sweat. Without any warning, his world flipped and began to swing back and forth violently, and he was ricocheted around the long, vaguely tube-like confines of her hand. Clearly, he surmised with some irritation, the bitch was on the move, and she intended to make it as uncomfortable as possible as him; in reality, the natural swing of her arms was more than enough on its own to cause him the troubles he was in.  Far above, he could hear her humming jovially, the sound muffled by the prison of her own flesh, and every step she took jostled him slightly more. Slowly his nausea returned, accompanied this time by dizziness and disorientation as he tumbled over and over in seemingly every direction. It wasn’t unbearable, but it was certainly an experience he never wanted to go through again, and worst of all he knew that this was far from the worst she could- and most likely given the glimmer in her eyes before, intended to- throw at him.  At last, mercifully, it stopped, and he found himself being unceremoniously dropped out of her hand, the building-like digits recoiling suddenly to reveal the textured wooden surface below which he landed on arse-first with a considerably painful thump. His dizziness subsiding, he watched as the towering figure that deposited him glided around the desk that he knew was at the front of the classroom, and came to sit down on the similarly colossal green office chair before him. It could have been his imagination, but Caleb could swear he heard the air rushing from underneath her as her unimaginably huge form settled into the comfy chair. He felt himself under the hazel spotlight again before he saw it, and slowly had to gaze up the body of his foe once again as she gazed at him like a child would a sweet.

Miss Blaine, even sitting, towered over Caleb like a mountain; possibly even larger, but mountain was the largest thing Caleb could come to reference in comparison. He’d seen plenty of mountains, the Alps were like a second home to his ski-crazy family, but the stone monoliths he’d come to know were a far cry from the living, breathing, practical landscape of a body his teacher had become to him. He was eye level with her belly, her black blouse giving no hint of pudge or flab, or even any hint of the colossal stomach within. It made Caleb marvel and fear all the more that within this colossus was a series of chambers and tubes which at his new size would theoretically be navigable; a whole network of inner plumbing that one could imagine getting lost in in some fantasy or science fiction epic. He knew, knew too well, however, that this was not some epic story, that to end up inside that colossal body was a one-way ticket to his own death. He didn’t even want to picture the giant, churning pit that Miss Blaine’s stomach now would be to him; on terms as he was with his own death now, even by disappearing down the gullet of the vengeance-lusting psycho sat before him, he didn’t want to picture the grisly details; such things made him shudder to think about and twisted his own miniscule stomach to no end. Instead, he brought his gaze down to her other fist, laid out on the table in front of him- notably, the opposite hand to the one he had been not-so-comfortably transported in. Held in much the same way as the fist he had been imprisoned within, he could already guess from her walk around the classroom that her other hand contained his poor friends, who had obviously shared in the same fate as him.

It was then that he finally picked up on the muffled shouts, unmistakeably from inside the makeshift prison that her fist was serving as. His fixed gaze on her fist had not gone unnoticed by Miss Blaine, and the grin that split her face looked bigger and more malicious than ever before.

“Right, boys… let’s get started, shall we?”