I was held in my owner's cupped hand as she walked into the house. Her giantess fingers curled up all around me, and I sunk down into the warmth of her palm, sitting down in a fold of her skin. The warmth and smell of her lotion soothed me, and I inhaled deeply. As she was walking, Mr. Fujiwara asked how her morning was.

"It was nice. I went to the park. That's a lot of food you're eating there." I didn't see her husband over her fingers, and soon she whisked me away back to her bedroom. She placed me in the cage, along with some workout supplement food.

She bent over my cage, her stern face filling my view. "Don't forget to work out today," she said. "Don't want you falling behind on your workout regimen."

"I will."

"Good," she said, smiling. Her huge hand moved over the cage and grabbed her reading glasses and a book. I was amazed at how huge the glasses looked as the giant lenses swung over me.

A little while later, Mr. Fujiwara came in, only wearing a shirt. Oddly, we had a cable in his mouth, which connected to his phone, which was tucked between his left arm and his side. In his left hand, he held a couple tissues, while his left hand was furiously jerking himself off. He walked in slowly, giving a few moans as the loud sound of his masturbation filled the room. As he got closer, I could read his t-shirt, which read "Tiny-Eating World Contest" with the dates of last weekend on it. That must've been where he and his wife went last weekend. The legality of what you could do with tinies varied by country, but in the more lax countries there was an annual televised tiny-eating contest, where the person who stuffed themselves with the most tiny people won. The shirt said this year's had taken place in Japan. Last year, a fat brunette from Arkansas had won. She had said she had gotten used to the movement in her stomach (which was the cause of most contestors slowing down and losing) by having the habit of eating insects throughout her life.

The slapping sounds of masturbation sped up, and Mr. Fujiwara covered the head of his dick with the tissues. I was close enough to hear the ejaculation come out into the tissues. Slowly, Mr. Fujiwara drew his dick away, which began to lose its erection. The giant deposited the tissues in a wastebasket next to my side of the bed. Paying no attention to me, the giant turned back around and trudged back out of the room, pulling out his phone as he did so.

Mr. Fujiwara came back a couple hours later, this time walking slowly. He had no shirt this time, and his stomach looked bloated. He was clutching it and moaning. What was once a relatively flat belly apart from some winkles now bulged out somewhat into a mound of golden skin. The enormous hill of a belly swung a little as he walked and eased himself into bed. I could see and hear his enormous hands moving over his belly, carressing it.

He then pulled out his phone and pulled up a video. As he was lying on his wife's side of the bed, I could see it, although it took me a second to figure out what it was. Whatever it was was making his limp dick start to rise. His right hand slid down his belly and rustled through the pubic hair to begin jerking off slowly again. The video showed a slimy pink chamber with wrinkled walls. I quickly realized this was a video of the interior of his stomach. In addition to the puddle of stomach acids, there was a small, pale figure in the middle of it all. I quickly realized with shock that Ada wasn't in her box on the other side of the bed.

The pale figure stumbled into the pool of acid and climbed out, clinging to the comparatively large folds in the stomach lining. That she wasn't harmed by the acid immediately told me she had been coated in TinyShield, a sort of gel that protected tinies from certain substances. It could protect the skin from stomach acid for over an hour.

A loud growl came from the phone's audio. Ada looked around fearfully at the shifting walls and dripping acids. "Mr. Fujiwara, why did you swallow me? Mr. Fujiwara?" Her hands kept drifting to her crotch and masturbating. Even though she didn't know what was going on, the danger and unknown must have excited her.

With a loud "splot" a mound of chewed up rice with some pink and scaly stuff plopped down next to the tiny. The pile of masticated sushi was much larger than she was, and as soon as it landed the stomach gave a contented growl as it sought to ingest the nutritious food.

Another splot, a smaller one, came down. This one was just fish, and it landed right on Ada. She gave a yelp and pulled herself out of the gunk. Stomach acids sloshed over the food, and bits of it streamed around her. It was already starting to smell bad apparently, as Ada was plugging her nose as she struggled to remain standing in the digestive swamp.

More food plopped down, as Mr. Fujiwara scrolled through his video. First, more mounds of sushi fell around Ada and started to dissolve. The rice dissolved quickly into a pale mush, while the chunks of fish floated around her. She vomited once into the disgusting pool around her, and she struggled with dry heaves as she tried to pull herself up into a slippery ride of the stomach. The side of the stomach wall she was on bulged and folded slowly outward, and she fell back into the pool.

Soon, more food came down. Chunks of vegetables, then ramen noodles and chicken. Liquids too. Water and tea, and later some milk. The putrid mix bubbled and churned, with Ada mostly sitting on top of a few ramen noodles on the side of the stomach. When those began to dissolve, she had to doggy-paddle through the slush. The level in the stomach rose.

"Mr. Fujiwara!" she screamed, her mascara running all down her face."'Mr.-!" She was cut off by a glob of chewed-up tempura that fell directly on her. For a moment, I thought that was it, but she clawed her way out of the glob, only for another to land on her. Her arms and face had turned red now, as the gel had run out. Soup drizzled down intermitently between the round of vegetables and tempura, raining down nonstop as Mr. Fujiwara had sped up his eating. Ada didn't emerge again, and soon the stomach was almost full to the top and much wider than before, the slimy ridges stretched out. Mr. Fujiwara past forwarded a couple more times. More food came in occasionally, but Mr. Fujiwara had slowed down a lot. The stomach was practically full by the time he had ended the video.

The tiny-eating contest must've been where he had gotten the idea to eat his tiny. Ada was clearly no match for Mr. Fujiwara's huge and mighty stomach. I shuddered as I stared at that distended, dark golden belly and the churning stomach acids and food that must be inside. With a grunt and a gasp, Mr. Fujiwara came again. He then just lied there, resting. His dick became flaccid again and lay limply over his inner right thigh. The older man's great hands slowly rubbed his vast belly, pressing down occasionally in places. He gritted his teeth every so often, being in pain from having eaten so much. The giant continued alternating between just resting and massaging his belly. The wrinkles in it were very shallow now, and his bellly button bulged out. Soon, he fell asleep. His stomach started to occasionally make a disturbing, loud rumble as it struggled to digest so much food. Another long "glorrrrp", another wet gurgle. I covered my ears, but it was hard to block out the terrifying digesting sounds, which just wouldn't stop.

The next morning, Mrs. Fujiwara retrieved me from my cage, saying it was time for breakfast. She carried me to the table and set me down on her plate, where I would eat the scraps she had left behind. Only this time, the plate was empty. It smelled like it used to have food, but it didn't now. In fact, it was wet. It had been licked clean.

Mrs. Fujiwara was beaming down at me, and below the table she rubbed her belly. "You better hurry before it's digested," she said and cackled.

She overturned a bottle of gel and shook out a big glob over me. She roughly coated me with it with her fingers, battering me with the huge, strong digits until I was coated in the gel.

She set me back on the plate and bent in front of it. She planted her pink tongue out like a carpet. Her wet maw glistened before me. Her tongue quivered, and her slightly yellowed teeth glistened with saliva. If I went in, would she leave me in there to digest like her husband? Did I have a choice?

"Oh come on," she said tersely. "I think it'll be fun to have a tiny little man in my belly." She giggled. "Just get in my mouth and slide down my throat. If you don't, you don't get to eat. You'll just have to starve day after day until you decide to do things my way." She stuck out her tongue again and made an "ahhhh" sound.

With a sigh, I trudged up her pink tongue into the heat of her mouth. I went all the way to the back, past the scarily huge molars, to the back of her tongue. I rubbed my hand along her back taste buds, enormous bumps in her long pink carpet. Then, abruptly, she swallowed with a "glunk."

From outside, I heard her talking but it was muffled. "Don't worry cutie, you'll be all safe inside Mrs. Fujiwara." She giggled some more. What was terrifying for me was just an amusement to her. Oh well, time for breakfast.