The date had started out so promisingly for Michael. Anne was fit, attractive, and by all appearances interested in him. Maybe her taste in jewelry was a little ostentatious, but that wasn't a deal-breaker by any stretch of the imagination. After dinner, she'd invited him back to her place to drink.

Score, he thought as he entered her apartment. She crossed the living room to the kitchen, but not before pointing to a door down the short hall.

"Bedroom's over there. I'll be right in after I get some drinks. You like Chartreuse?"

He had no idea what Chartreuse even was, — wasn't it a shade of green? — but he nodded anyway; all booze is good booze, right? Michael wasn't sure why she was in such a rush to get him in her bedroom, but he wasn't complaining. Foreplay for women always took longer than he thought it needed to go on, and it always had to start with talking and slow conversations that only eventually led to anything physical. Anne's desire to get down to business was yet another point in her favor.

He wandered into her room, wondering not so idly if it would turn her off if she found him naked when she walked in with the drinks. He decided that it was too much risk for too little reward. After all, it didn't seem to him like she'd need much convincing in the first place. After a few minutes had passed, though, he wasn't so sure. How much time did it take to pour Chartreuse, anyway?

"Need any help out there?"

"No, I'll be right in." It sounded like she was right on the other side of the door, and indeed just a second later she sauntered in completely naked. Well, almost completely naked; she was still wearing the stone-studded silver chain around her neck, but that was all she had with her except for two small glasses filled halfway with a vividly green liquid. "Never had this before? It's a bit of an acquired taste, but you'll probably like it." 

She handed one of the glasses to him and immediately clinked the other with the one he had only just got in his hand. She quickly emptied the alcohol from the glass, but swirled it around her mouth for a few moments. Michael found himself staring at the features of her face as she savored her drink, and his eyes followed it downward as she swallowed it. He was utterly entranced by the rhythmic movements of the taut, pale skin over her neck as her muscles allowed the spirit through her throat. 

He downed his own glass a lot faster than she had. It wasn't really the sort of thing he normally drank, and while he wasn't sure what Chartreuse was supposed to taste like, he thought it seemed a bit off. 

Thankfully, Anne didn't seem too offended by his speedy drinking. In fact, her lips were curling slyly at him as she fingered the smooth brown stones hanging around her neck. Watching his reaction to the liquor, she smirked.

"I guess I just have weird taste. Sorry." She didn't look sorry at all.

"It's all right, really. I just need to get used to it." However, he instinctively shook his head to rid himself of the aftertaste. That was some strong stuff, whatever it was. 

"Don't worry about that. I have plenty of other things for you to drink." Her smirk, if anything, had widened even more. Maybe it was just his imagination, or her expression actually seemed physically larger, too. There was no way he was that drunk already, was there? He looked straight ahead at her; she was still playing with her necklace draped between her breasts. Her very large breasts... impossibly large breasts. How were they so huge? Wait a second: why was her cleavage at eye-level?

In fact, it was actually above eye-level to him and shifting increasingly higher.

"What's going on?!"

Anne just kept that infuriating grin on her face, but now her eyes looked different. Hungrier. She continued rubbing the stones on the chain with an insane eagerness. 

And Michael kept getting smaller. He was falling out of his own clothes; he was getting buried by his own clothes. He kept shouting up at the giant woman beside him, but even if she weren't ignoring his cries, she couldn't even hear him anymore. When finally his shirt became so heavy to him that he couldn't lift it up above him, he stopped shrinking. He felt the bed shake under him and his shirt drag over him, and then two outrageously giant fingers (with nails almost as tall as him!) grabbed him up.

He zoomed over pale skin like a plane over snowy hills, his breath taken from him as quickly as he flew, stopping abruptly above a pair of gigantic, shiny lips, warm drafts rising up around him from them. And then there was thunder.

"Hey, cutie." The incongruity between her words and the sheer volume with which she spoke them was completely absurd. Michael would have been speechless if the whole situation hadn't already rendered him dumbstruck.

"You're probably wondering what's going on. That's reasonable. I'll tell you, but just the one time, so listen up." Like so many other things happening to him, the idea that he could do anything but pay attention to the woman dangling his entire body above her mouth was ridiculous.

"I'm attracted to tiny men. Really, really attracted to really, really tiny men, and I'm lucky enough to have a way to make that happen. You don't need to know too much about the whys and wherefores, but the short version is magic. The slightly longer version is that this necklace lets me shrink anyone who's just drunk a certain potion."

"You spiked my drink!?"

Michael's outrage, though obvious, was comically minuscule to Anne, and she couldn't entirely make out what he was yelling about.

"I can't hear you, you know. You're way too tiny." She moaned loudly at that thought, completely drowning out his shouts and, given his proximity to her mouth, neatly stunning him back into silence.

"Oops. Anyway, you're probably angry about your drink. Good thing you're not the type to know good booze. Don't worry, though; I won't get bored with you even if you're not too smart."

Her trademark smirk returned, waiting below his dangling form menacingly. She was practically purring.

"I want you for your body."

Michael was squirming desperately between her fingers, trying to get away. He hadn't yet considered how he would escape from a woman who could outrace him simply by moving her feet only inches at a time. She could even swallow him in a single gulp. This latter fact shot to the front of his mind when the giant fingers, the ones that had been pinching together to hold him in the air, let go; he fell down onto Anne's closed lips as her head reclined on the pillow. He was buffeted by the breath leaving her nostrils, forcing him to stay down on the soft, warm skin of her lips.

Suddenly the chasm parted, and from the depths of the hot, moist cavern erupted a long, pink monstrosity. Anne's tongue curled toward him. He would have fled if he hadn't been paralyzed by terror, but instead he simply waited until the writhing mass touched down onto his back. It was hot and sticky with saliva, and when it pulled back into her mouth, the tiny man's weight was so little that he became stuck to it. He screamed as he was drawn past enamel monoliths into the recesses of her mouth.

Anne would have been greatly aroused to hear him crying out, but she was already lost to a heady feeling of power, amplified by recent drinking, and couldn't hear him over her own moans of delight. The little man trapped in her mouth had to be scared out of his mind, and the fear on her tongue tasted delicious.

And indeed he was scared. He was being manhandled by a tongue much more massive than he himself was, pushed about a dark, stuffy cave that smelled overwhelmingly of liquor. It was terrifying to know that the only thing keeping him from falling down the abyss of her throat was the abrasive, wet muscle currently abusing him against her palate. It was unbelievable to be desperately clinging to taste buds that, even at his scale, were barely more than nubs. It was bewildering to be rolled around ceaselessly at the whim of her tongue while the humid air vibrated with deafeningly euphoric groans. And it was humiliating to find that all of these stimuli combined to make his penis harder than it had been in a very, very long time. He was being forced to learn with alarming quickness that this woman had infinitely more control over his body than he did himself. In fact, he lost what control he had fairly quickly, spilling his cum over the rough surface of her tongue. As it dripped down her taste buds, he heard — felt, really— another earth-shattering moan boom up from deep below.

"Mmmmmmmm." Enjoying the taste of him and his semen, she licked her lips. It was only a small amount that she could get at any one time; the fresh-squeezed cum of a tiny man was practically a delicacy. 

And fortunately for Michael, he'd been stranded on her upper lip when she brought her tongue out to savor him. The fresh, cool air was a huge improvement on the hot, Chartreuse-saturated atmosphere of her cavernous mouth, but the brief moment of relief ended when, once again, tree trunk-wide fingers lifted him into the air above her face. From his aerial perspective, he could see her vast expression below him: she seemed pleased, but not yet sated. She stared at him, hanging limply from her fingers after his brief but exhausting trip inside her mouth, with an intensity that would have sent him running even if he weren't literally smaller than even her eyes. 

No, she wasn't done with him at all.

"Well, little man, did you like that? It certainly tasted like you did." The smirk was back in full force now. "You should be glad to know that you taste very, very good. A little saltier than sweet, though." She giggled, sending warm gusts blowing into his tiny form. Swinging in her intoxicated breath, he found it doubly disorienting: first from the nauseating motion and second from the leftover fumes of the green liqueur. Michael was finding it, quite reasonably, increasingly difficult to think coherently; everything that had happened to him since she entered the room without clothing had been perfect at jamming up the higher functioning parts of his brain. 

"How about I let you get a sip of me? That's only fair, I think." Even if Michael had been mentally quick enough to figure out what she was planning, he was in no position to fight back as she carried him over the hills of her breasts, the plain of her stomach, and the small forest of her pubic hair. Bringing her other hand down to her crotch, she opened her labia with an ease that frightened her little passenger.

"Oh, fuck! Please, no! I'll be crushed in there!" 

His protests were useless. Of course, they were far too quiet at his size to carry all the way to her ears. But even if she had heard him, his pleas would not only have made no difference, but they would only have added to the delicious feeling of power she'd been cultivating since shrinking him. 

"I know I'm moving fast, little guy, but I'm almost positive that's how you wanted tonight to go, right? So don't worry: this is going to be quick for you. If you were normal-sized, how fast you were might bug me, but as it is..." She laughed again as she lowered him into her gaping slit.

The last deliberate thought that passed through Michael's head before being put down was that she was probably still wearing that goddamn smirk of hers. As soon as he hit her wet lips, however, his senses overwhelmed him.

She was so hot, he thought he would burn up. She was so wet, it was practically steaming. Her scent permeated the air so entirely that he could no longer think. The flesh surrounding him shuddered with every move he made; the resulting moans from Anne propagated through her body, shaking him so thoroughly that he would have to lean on her to regain his balance, only to repeat the cycle by causing yet another seismic vibration.

"Oh man, that feels good, but — OHH — it's time to go further."

That ominous warning snapped Michael's mind back from sensory overload. He saw her giant fingers pull up from the lips they were holding open, and he panicked. In that irrational state of mind, the only thing he could think to do was scream.

"Oh god, help me! Please! Anyone! HELP! Oh my god, I'm going to die!"

The only person who could possibly have heard him was lost in her own world, a world where she controlled the lives of any whose lives she desired. It was, in that respect, not much different from the world the tiny man now buried in her labia was living in. The only thing she felt from him was his frantic struggles as he was pulled into her pussy by firm, pulsing muscles. As she focused on the little man inside her, she felt the soft vibrations of his urgent shouts against her innermost walls. He was flailing with all his strength, and while all she could feel was a gentle massage, it was from a man whose life was entirely hers. 

He was a sacrifice, and she was his goddess.

That thought nearly sent her over the edge. Her vagina clamped down with a will of its own, squeezing its guest mercilessly. Michael was deep in the throes of oxygen deprivation, but now his panicky movements were being held down by her relentless cunt. There was nothing he could do as the world surrounding him hugged him tighter and tighter in a fleshy embrace. It might have felt pleasant, and even erotic, under different circumstances, but he was hardly aware of anything other than the steadily building pressure.

And then the dam broke. The giant vagina clenched tightly as Anne's cum flowed through; the narrow tunnel pushed the flood through with such force that the tiny body was ejected from Anne's own in a cascade of juices. After a few minutes of blissful gasping, Anne brought one hand down to the puddle between her legs, lifting up Michael's lifeless form, as she idly played with her necklace using the other.

Seeing that he wasn't alive anymore, she dropped him into her mouth. While swirling him around with her tongue, enjoying the taste of her lover's labors, she got up from her bed and went into the kitchen. After pouring another shot of Chartreuse into a glass, she downed her drink, swallowing the tiny body with the alcohol. She raised the empty glass slightly.

"Cheers, little man." 

And one more time, she smirked.