Leah stood up victorious, awash in the cheers and support of a rowdy crowd. The officials had already dragged the challenger, still unconscious, out of the ring, while one officiant brought her prize to her from the ringside bank where the remaining antéd prizes, her own included, still waited. The man in the suit brought her the glass jar containing the shrunken boyfriend of her defeated competition.
The officiant, a man whom Leah didn't recognize, carried the jar with a kind of solemn reverence, even as the tiny man inside was panicking almost without restraint. By the time the jar was placed in Leah's right hand, the microphone was already in her left, delivered by her manager.
"Looks like it's time for this kitty to get her treat!" Leah shouted, enough that the mic picked it up.
Her hands shot up, the jar and its contents on display for all to see. The crowd rewarded her with a renewed round of cheers. Leah slowly spun, letting everyone in the arena get a glimpse of her in victory, and of the shrunken man in the jar. She ended her display by walking toward the prize table, with all the other jars on display and raised up. Although over the ropes, those jars were about navel level to Leah as she turned to them.
"Go on…" Leah taunted into the mic, rubbing the jar over her exposed stomach. "Get a good look at what's waiting for you. For all of you."
The crowd hushed, a kind of manic obsession with what came next. As she continued to rub the glass over her skin, Leah lowered the mic down next to the jar. Before the tiny man kept in the glass could gain his footing the mic picked up the subtle, but clear, sound of Leah's guts, grumbling for sustenance. It was quickly drowned out by the squeaking pleas for help coming from within the jar, but the effect had already taken hold in the crowd.
Some wrestlers didn't take nearly as much delight in the victory process as Leah did, but thankfully, the league now advertised off displays like Leah's, and afforded her as much time as she wanted to really lean into it. Leah tossed the mic aside, thankfully the sound crew was on top of their game and cut it before it hit the mat. With her hands free, she brought the jar up her body, sliding it along her stomach, between her breasts, and up to her face.
For a moment, Leah just gazed into the jar. The tiny man inside had already scrambled as far away as he could, trying to distance himself from Leah as much as the jar would allow. Leah saw in his face the same panic and fear that she had seen in dozens of other match-antes and briefly wondered if the man inside was genuinely her challenger's boyfriend, or just an acquaintance hired on to risk his life so she could compete. Although the outcome was always the same, Leah preferred an actual boyfriend, to a paid stand in, it made the victory sweeter.
Leah tilted the side of the jar toward her, and as the tiny man fought to avoid sliding closer to her, she pressed her lips against the glass. She made sure that her lipstick was thoroughly imprinted on the jar. By the time he had slid half way, Leah began licking the corner of the jar. She opened her mouth and shook the jar enough to send him tumbling toward her, landing on all fours on the side of the jar, looking down at the darkness of her mouth, and throat beyond, opened beneath him, with only the glass wall of his prison keeping him from falling in.
“Just a little preview for you…” Leah whispered. “Don't worry though, I won't keep you waiting long. I think it's time you helped me with my little, post-match snack problem!”
Biting her lip, Leah carefully gripped the jar, preserving her lip print while slowly unscrewing the lid. She casually discarded the lid and looked down at the contents, a scared, shrunken man starting back up her. A grin spread across her mouth, and she couldn't help but lick her lips in anticipation and hunger. She could feel her heart beat faster, and warmth spreading through her.
“You know, one time, one of you little snacks clung to the jar, and fell out wrong…” Leah explained. “He hit the mat, and in the confusion, I stepped on him. It was the worst, I didn't get my post-match snack! So, to prevent that from ever happening again…”
Leah pursed her lips over the jar’s mouth. The crowd hushed and she was vaguely aware of her manager, Sam scrambling onto the mat with the mic to hold it just under the jar. For some of Leah's fans, this was the best part, and Sam knew they'd be disappointed if there was no audio to accompany what was coming. Thankfully, even through the glass, above any of the ambient background noise, the squeaking, manic pleas of the tiny man could be heard.
The glob of spit formed between Leah's lips with an effortlessness that only came from practice, and glistened against her black lipstick like a perverse jewel. The saliva fell free in a long, spilling strand, a deluge that poured from Leah's lips down into the jar. With some semblance of self preservation, the tiny man leapt out of the way, but a chuckle from Leah, and a quick shake of the jar sent him right back into the downpour of spit she continued to unleash. After a few seconds of continuous stream and a little shaking, he was coughing and completely soaked in spit.
“There you go, nice and slippery!” Leah observed. “Well, it's time!”
Her own drool poured out of the jar first as she lifted it high into the air and tilted the mouth toward her own. She ignored it, letting it spill down her chin, and down her front, keeping her eyes fixated on her prize, the tiny man fighting in vain to avoid sliding down the wall of the jar. The distraction of her chest getting a bit wet, or even the sounds of his desperate screaming picked up by the microphone as he slid smoothly down the glass, wouldn't pull her attention away from the one thing she enjoyed more than anything else in the sport.
As expected, he hit the lip of the jar and slipped right out, into a free fall through the air. A split second later, Leah felt his body land squarely on the back of her tongue, falling neatly between her teeth. Like a sprung trap, Leah pulled him down with her tongue and snapped her jaw shut, closing her eyes.
She discarded the jar in front of her and reached out instinctively to her right where the microphone filled her palm. Bringing it up to her mouth she gave the audience a little moan, just enough to really signal how much she was enjoying herself before parting her lips long enough for a squeak of mortal horror to escape as she licked her lips. For moments she savored his struggles against her. She flattened him against the roof of her mouth with her tongue, she pushed him into a cheek to suck on him, then pulled him back onto her tongue. Every part of him was subject to her tongue’s exploration.
For the final part of the display, Leah let her jaw fall open, her tongue roll out, and let the half-drowned, half-squished, barely conscious man laying on her tongue one last glimpse of light. The microphone picked up the faintest panting coming from his exhausted form, and as her tongue dragged him back into her mouth, a brief shout of horror before her lips sealed him in again.
There was no more fanfare, Leah moved him to the back of her mouth and swallowed. The fingers of her free hand, and the mic, followed the squirming lump down her throat. There was no sound from her snack, but her gulp could be heard throughout the arena. A second, strained swallow sent the still conscious man down past her chest and down into her stomach. Leah patted her stomach gently, even if he couldn't be heard through her skin and muscle and guts, Leah could still feel his movements slowing. After what felt like only a few seconds to Leah, but she knew accounted for more, he finally went still deep inside her, and she could only feel him as he was, a filling snack.
Leah wiped her chin and mouth with the back of her hand and raised both hands in a celebration. The crowd joined her in a raucous cacophony. She took a victory spin, slowly facing all of her fans, before turning back to the table with the jars. Even if they couldn't hear her, Leah knew each of the tiny men in the jars understood her when she grinned wide at them, teeth showing, and running her tongue along her teeth.
One of them would be her next prize.