- Text Size +
Story Notes:

[a sweet and salty giantess story]

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.



[a sweet and salty giantess story]

By: Mac R. File

Aaron circled the block three times before finally working up the courage to make the turn into The Clinic’s parking lot. His stomach lurched—luckily 12-hours of fasting was a strict requirement for today’s appointment: his last)—with the maneuver while his hands gripped the steering wheel white-knuckle tight. All the while, Aaron’s blood coursed hot and frantic at his temples. He took a deep, “get-your-shit-together” kind of breath and continued with his internal pep talk. 

Ok, this is it. Today is the big day. Think of all the planning and preparation that’s gone into it. This is what you want, this is what you’ve always wanted. Don’t you dare chicken out at the last minute. 

At a speed just a notch or two above idling, Aaron carefully steered his way towards a modern, single-story building of red brick, set back several hundred yards from the road on the edge of a dense pine forest. As he drew near to the clinic’s porticoed main entrance, an attractive, clipboard-wielding young woman sprung forth from a glassed-in booth, advancing on Aaron’s vehicle with an oversized smile and a perky wave.

In response to this warm greeting, Aaron hammered down on his car’s accelerator and speed off with a peal of tires. The confused, but still smiling and waving woman quickly receded in the rearview mirror. He gunned it down a row of parked cars towards the exit when finally, his ‘voice of reason’ resurfaced. 

No! Turn around and drive back to the entrance. RIGHT NOW! If you don’t go through with this you’ll never forgive yourself!

Ultimately, this inner voice won out. Aaron slowed his car, looped back around towards the clinic’s entrance, and pulled up next to the curb before a sign reading: “Complimentary Valet Parking – Platinum Members Only.” The chipper young woman—she wore an open lab coat over what could only be described as a “slutty nurse” Halloween costume (the ensembled was finished off with white stiletto heels and matching, thigh-high stockings)—was undeterred by Aaron’s hasty, aborted escape.

“Good morning Mr. Baxter! Welcome back! We are sooo thrilled to see you! Are you excited for your big day?”

Aaron opened the driver’s side door, yet made no move to step out of his idling car. Without missing a beat, the cheerful greeter—her nametag read “Destiny” in curlicue letters—walked around the sedan (heels click-clacking on the blacktop), leaned in towards its driver, and placed a manicured hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m sure you must be nervous Mr. Baxter, it’s only natural, today being your last appointment with us and all. Not to worry. Lot’s of our patients get nervous on the big day.” The woman smelled like the bubble gum she chomped and snapped as she spoke, that and some kind of fruity body wash. Aaron turned and stared uneasily into her large, green eyes. 

“What’s important is to remember that today is the culmination of months of careful planning and preparation. Every last detail from start to finish has been thoughtfully, painstakingly arranged, with you in mind. We’re here to see that all of your needs are met today. I think you’ll find, Mr. Baxter, that you are in the very best of hands here.” The woman reached across Aaron’s lap and unbuckled his seat belt. Her other hand, which had never left his shoulder, gently, but firmly began to pull him out of the car. 

“You can go ahead and leave your car idling right here Mr. Baxter, we will see to it.” Aaron let Destiny pull him from the car and escort him, arm-in-arm towards the revolving door entrance beyond. All the while, she continued to speak quickly and excitedly, “We are all ready for you inside Mr. Baxter. You’ll just want to go check-in with Candi at the front desk and she’ll have you off on your way in no time, have a great experience, I’ll see you la—I’ll just go see what’s going on back at my post! Tata!” 

With a final, playful nudge Destiny ushered Aaron into a revolving door slot and heel-toed it back to her booth. Before whooshing his way into the clinic’s lobby, he shot a final glance over his shoulder and saw a portly man in a valet’s jumpsuit hop into the driver’s seat of his car and speed off with an unsettling smirk upon his face. 

The vibe of the clinic’s reception area could be described as doctor’s office meets playboy lounge. EDM played softly through unseen speakers. An aggressive, men’s cologne-like air fresher permeated the air. Aaron walked beneath a gaudy chandelier; past several, low-slung leather sofas; by a full-sized, wall-mounted zebra hide; around several velvet-upholstered armchairs resembling giant clams; and down the length of an enormous, burbling tropical fish aquarium—seeing his way through it all by the soft light cast beneath a bevy of beaded lampshades. 

At last, bright-eyed and perky-breasted Candi (dressed similarly to Destiny with her skimpy nurse smock, teasing beneath the open lab coat) beamed behind her semi-circle of reception desk. “Good morning Mr. Baxter! How exciting to have you here for your big day, oh my gosh!! We’re all ready for you if you would just sign the guest log for me here real quick and then fill out these final few forms.” She slid a clipboard his way. 

Aaron perched anxiously on one of the clam chairs—unsurprisingly, not very comfortable—and worked his way through the forms (documents with headings like “LIABILITY RELEASE” and “STATEMENT OF INTENT”). Now and then he glanced about furtively at the handful of other clients, all men, populating the lounge-waiting room. He wondered how far along they might be in the process (anyone else here for their ‘big day?).

 He remained a nervous, hand-tremoring wreck, but what the hell? He was already inside the building, his car long gone. He’d already quit his job, sold his house, cashed out his savings and 401k, cut off all ties to family and friends, and had sold or given away the entirety of his earthly possessions. No going back now—there was literally nothing to go back to. Just a few more steps, a few more formalities, and things would be underway. 

“Mr. Baxter,” Candi called out peppily across the waiting room area, “they’re ready to take you back.” Aaron was led down a long, hospital-like hall, flanked by two more stiletto-heeled “nurses”—the co-mingled percussion of their footwear danced about the echo-prone corridor like a flourish of angrily pecked typewriter keys. After what seemed like an endless march, Felicity, or Amber, he couldn’t remember who was who, gestured toward one of the indistinguishable doorways.

“You’ll be here Mr. Baxter, in room 101B. Go ahead in and make yourself comfortable. A technician will be in momentarily to initiate your transformation.”

Aaron suddenly longed to reach out and take hold of Amber-Felicity, or Felicity-Amber, bury his face in either set of large, enhanced breasts, and weep. Please, take me back with you! Instead, he whispered “O.K., thank you,” and watched as their twin, rotund hindquarters receded back down the hallway.

Inside room 101B Aaron studied the furnishings of the space in which he’d undergo his final procedure at the clinic. One end of the room looked like a normal doctor’s office with a papered examining table, various wall-mounted blood-pressure taking and Otorhinolaryngological paraphernalia, and a sink-fitted countertop lined with jars of cotton balls and tongue depressors.

The other end of the room featured a sofa, coffee table, and mini-fridge arranged alongside a queen-sized bed made up with leopard print sheets. On the other size of the bed stood a 5’x5’ scale model of a cityscape—skyscrapers made of spray-painted cardboard, the tallest of which stood about three feet high. A smile crept over Aaron’s troubled visage as he took in the scale-model city. Candi had been right about one thing, every last detail had been taken into account. 

A sharp knock on the door sounded and another “slutty nurse” in a lab coat entered the room without awaiting a reply. “Good morning Mr. Baxter, my name is Brandi, I’m here to prepare you for today’s session. Why don’t you lie down on the examining table over there.”

Brandi proceeded to take Aaron’s vitals with a practiced efficiency which caused him to wonder if she really did have some degree of medical training. The heaving tops of her breasts were perky and on-display, just like those of Destiny, Candi, et al., though with a fetching splash of tiny freckles covering them. Aaron stared at Brandi’s cleavage, which had a calming effect. 

Next, Brandi produced an intimidatingly large syringe from the pocket of her lab coat and uncapped it. “Mr. Baxter, if you’ll just take your pants down a bit and lie prone on the examining table for a moment. This’ll pinch just a little bit.” Aaron complied, feeling like a six-year-old visiting the pediatrician again. Do I get a lollipop for being a good boy? 

Oh, you’ll get something much better than that.

When Aaron hoisted his trousers back in place and dismounted from the examining table he was handed a small paper souffle cup filled with colorful pills. “Take these, you’ll find some mineral water in the fridge. Go ahead and relax on the sofa, your full transformation should take about twenty minutes. Then we’ll send…” she flipped through some pages on her clipboard “…Nikki in to see you.”

Aaron tossed back his pills, drank off the mineral water, and lied back on the sofa, waiting to feel the effects. His mind wandered over the past few years and all that had transpired between his discovery of The Clinic and today: the Big Day.

He’d first heard of The Clinic— what was it, three, four years ago now?— via an online forum he frequented. Institute for the Study of Size Differential and Related Applications, it was called. Kind of a mouthful, so Aaron took to calling it simply: The Clinic. What The Clinic offered to guys like him sounded too good to be true, so he took it upon himself to conduct a little research; find out if the operation was legitimate. 

Ultimately satisfied it was the real deal, it still took Aaron another year or more to muster up the courage to send in for the application. When the thick packet arrived in the mail, he stared at it for another week. Finally, one night he couldn’t take it anymore. Before the bathroom mirror he confronted his refection: “Aaron Francis Baxter, if you don’t commit to going through with this right this instant, you’ll never respect yourself again!” That was the moment that pushed the idea of the clinic out of the theoretical, and into the real. 

Aaron began The Clinic’s application the very next day. It was no customer satisfaction survey either. There were essay questions, a video response portion; he was required to submit statements of income and assets; five years’ worth of tax returns and ten years of medical records. It sure took a lot of time and effort, but Aaron was, at last, properly motivated. He got it done and sent it off, hand shaking on the handle of the mailbox as he tossed it inside.

Weeks passed. Aaron could barely tolerate the ‘business as usual’ of his daily life. Eat, sleep, work, jerk off—it was all torture. Finally, word came that the clinic had selected him to advance to the next step: pre-approval. The Clinic now referred to ‘Mr. Baxter’ as a ‘Silver Member.’ Pre-approval lasted roughly a year during which he’d had to visit the clinic once per quarter to undergo extensive psychological evaluations, physical stress tests, blood and urine analysis, and I.Q. screenings. 

After what seemed like ages, Aaron answered the phone one day to learn he’d officially become one of The Clinic’s ‘Gold members.’ This next phase was a six-month process during which Aaron received special counseling sessions three times weekly, for five hours at a time. These sessions were intensive, aimed at conditioning Aaron mentally for what the next and final phase entailed. 

Gold membership also required him to review and sign volumes of legal and financial documents (really boring, ‘in the weeds’ kind of stuff like waivers, indemnity, non-liability, power of attorney, transference of estate, blah, blah, blah). He’d always hated having to bother with that sort of stuff, but supposed it was necessary. 

Boom: he’d at last become a ‘Platinum Member’ at The Clinic, commencing with the final, two-month period leading up to, as they called it, Aaron’s ‘ultimate transformation.’ This last stretch involved eating a very strict, special diet—absolutely no caffeine or alcohol, much to Aaron’s dismay—taking all sorts of special pills with plenty of water, and of course, his favorite part, selecting his “diminished-stature-experience-surrogate.” 

After being ushered into one of The Clinic’s back rooms, Aaron was treated to a parade of beautiful, naked young women. These ladies represented the full genetic spectrum of the human female body. All varieties of hair and skin colors were on display, not to mention the full gamut of heights, builds, girths, breast sizes and shapes; leg thickness and length—even every imaginable color, size, and shape of bush (or no bush at all!). There were tall skinny girls, short fat ones, medium-heights muscular ones and everything in between. Name a detail, it was on the menu. 

From there, Aaron narrowed his selection down to three, incredible, statuesque 10/10 women and commenced with interviewing them extensively to get a feel for their personality, intelligence, and characters. In the end, he selected 28-year-old Nikki Thomas: a jaw-dropping, Junoesque beauty with olive-toned Mediterranean skin; long, thick, silky black hair which she favored with sturdy rope-like braids; natural DD, bell-shaped breasts; and a think tapered waist that gave way to voluptuously curvy hips and a juicy, full, yet toned ass. Nikki kept her pubic hair trimmed in a clean, tidy, 2” wide ‘landing strip’ and boasted long, athletic legs with large, sumptuously manicured size 11 feet. 

Not only were Nikki’s physical stats off the charts, she was also a smart, funny, thoughtful young woman with an outgoing, exuberant personality and, most importantly, a playful, committed sense of imagination and creativity. In their subsequent exhaustive roleplays together, she could quickly and completely commit herself to a character (whether sweet and nurturing, or, even more delicious: cruel and domineering), taking cues from Aaron’s palpable excitement and then having the initiative to elevate the intensity and inventiveness of the scenario well beyond what even his warped and perverted mind could fabricate. 

In short, Nikki was the perfect woman to be reduced to the size of gummy bear with. The ideal partner to then taunt, tease, humiliate, and devour Aaron. He’d spent hours putting together their final ‘diminished-stature-experience’ scenario—everything Nikki might do and say to tease and titillate his every giantess-related kink—of course, leaving the more than competent woman with plenty of breathing room to add in her own, twisted inventions. 

In a matter of minutes, Nikki would walk through that door and their final giantess session—this time with Aaron actually a tiny to his mistress’ marauding giantess stature!—would begin. When all was said and done, Aaron would walk out of here inside Nikki’s sexy tummy and all the pain of living in a world as a misunderstood, ostracized, lonely and loveless ‘deviant,’ a la his macrophile-centric sexual orientation, would be gone. 

As visions of Nikki’s divine body danced in his head, Aaron drifted off to sleep. Sometime later, the door to room 101B slammed shut, rousing him from his pleasant dreams. It was immediately apparent that Aaron’s ‘ultimate transformation’ had been a success. For one thing, he had to crawl out from beneath the collapsed circus tent of his now vast clothing (little Aaron emerged naked as the day he came into the world). Once he’s escaped, Aaron scanned his surrounding to find the normal-sized, tan sofa on which he’d dozed off now resembled a sprawling desertscape surrounded by soaring “cliffs.”  He trekked his way towards the front of the basketball-court-sized cushion and surveyed the surreal, ludicrously blown-up proportions of room 101B. 

Everything in the suite had taken on gargantuan, landscape-caliber dimensions. Aaron tingled with a heady mix of excitement, wonder, dread, and—of course—burgeoning sexual arousal. All his life he’d dreamed of being a tiny in a giantess’ world, now it was finally happening!

 Just then there was a flurry of movement near the door. Aaron shifted his gaze to take in a gigantic woman as she walked towards him across the room in bounding, ground-tremor inducing steps. As the woman neared his position on the sofa, he watched as her massive right arm swung out ahead of her body, rocketing a colossal object into the air. Aaron gawked, frozen in horror, as a messenger bag the size of a small apartment building hurtled towards the sofa on which he stood. 

Run! Run! his brain screamed and at last, his legs complied. Aaron sprinted for the crack between the sofa cushions and dove into the narrow crevice seconds before the thunderous, bone-rattling impact. When the ringing in his ears began to recede a few minutes later, he could hear the giant woman crashing about the room. 

“O.k., they said room 101B, but I don’t see anything in here. What do they keep it in a jar or something?” The woman mumbled to herself. Her giantess voice, however, carried powerfully to Aaron’s tiny sensitive ears as he climbed out from between the cushions and scrambled over the incline of her crash-landed messenger bag.  

As he stumbled over the crest of the bag’s immense girth, Aaron spied the strange giantess lurching around the room, rummaging through items on shelves and countertops—her massive, house-sized head swiveled on shoulders as wide as an army barracks as she scanned her surroundings. “Little man, little man, come out, come out where you are.” 

Aaron suddenly realized the woman was searching for him—of course he must be hard to spot as just a cough-drop sized man atop her discarded bag. He reached his hands into the air, preparing to signal the woman with flailing arms, but then stopped. Something felt off. The woman stomping about room 101B was no Nikki Thomas. She was instead a shorter (though by no means short) plumper, plainer looking girl with a greasy, unkempt pixie cut—dyed neon pink. 

Before deciding on an action to take, Aaron spent a few moments observing the unfamiliar young woman as she hunted about for him. The strange girl was decked out head-to-toe like a punk rock chick. She wore heavy black metal-studded boots, ripped purple tights, a frayed denim miniskirt with a sleeveless, patch-ridden jean-jacket laid over a Sex Pistols tank top. Her bare, fleshy arms were covered in sleeves of ornate, colorful, often obscene tattoos while her round, snub-nosed face was adorned with a phalanx of metal piercings impaling her ear lobes, nose, lips, eyebrows, and labret.

“Little man, I know you want to be eaten. C’mon out and get in my belly” The pot-bellied punk rock chick giggled to herself as she made another lap around the room. The girl’s playful taunting sent a chill down Aaron’s spine. Surely, she didn’t intend to eat him. That was the carefully chosen, exhaustively plotted role of the beautiful Nikki.

Alright, calm down, Aaron told himself, you’ve been working with The Clinic for nearly two years in preparation for today. They know everything about you and have been consummate professionals, seeing to every last detail. Clearly, this young woman is confused. She must have intended to enter some other room to fulfill some other man’s fantasy. I’ll just reveal myself to her, explain the mix-up and she’ll go find Nikki for me. 

Aaron began to jump up and down on the messenger bag, waiving his hands frantically, while he shouted, “hey, over here!” The punk giantess stopped mid stride and swung around towards the sofa. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

She stomped back over towards her messenger bag, came to a halt before the sofa and scanned the area with a confused expression. “I swear I heard a squeaking noise. Wait, there it is again!”

“Down here! Down here! Help! There’s been a mix-up!” Aaron shouted and waved even more frantically. The punk rock chick loomed over him. He wearily eyed her thick legs, and stout figure. The bottom of her slashed-up tank top pooched out with a prominent belly-paunch over which sagged a pair of enormous, meaty-looking breasts. No, this isn’t right at all!

It was too late. He’d been spotted. “Holy fucking shitballs. There it is. It’s a tiny little man.” The girl bent over for a better view, treating Aaron to an intimidating view of her rolling valley-like cleavage. “C’mere little dude!” Before Aaron could react, the giantess reached out and snatched him off the top of the messenger back.

Aaron quickly found himself in a massive, sweaty palm—the sticky, creased flesh radiated heat as it bucked and shifted slightly underneath him. The punk chick raised him up before her wide, pale-blue eyes. “This is sooo fucking far out man. I mean you’re like, what? The size of a gummy bear,” she poked and prodded at Aaron’s tiny body with a silo-esque index finger, “yet everything seems to be anatomically correct.”

The girl’s slight double chin—like a wave-softened limestone cliff—bounced as she spoke. Her voice, so near, threatened to split his very skull in two. A gust of potent breath streamed between her two rows of teeth: crooked, yellow, boulders whose backs were mossy with dark fillings. As the girl spoke, baseball-sized flecks or errant saliva flew past Aaron’s body, a few of the putrid projectiles breaking across his face and chest, leaving a thick, slimy, residue behind. 

Summoning all of his strength and courage, Aaron labored to his feet in the giantess’ palm and beseeched her in as loud a voice as he could muster. “Miss, please, there’s been a mix-up!...” The plump punk giantess eyed Aaron suspiciously. “Shit, there’s that squeaking again. Oh my god, that must be how it talks!” Hold on a minute dude.”

Aaron nearly tumbled from the massive, open palm as it whisked him up towards the giantess’ two-story tall ear. “Come again Mr. Squeaks?” her voice was less forceful from this vantage point, though Aaron could feel its intense vibrations through her near cheek and jaw. He carefully stepped his way towards the heel of the girl’s palm where he could shout directly into the downy folds of her ear.

“Please miss, you’ve got to help me! Clearly, there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. Today is my last appointment at The Clinic and my session was booked with Nikki Thomas. If you’ll just go find Candi at the reception desk and explain, I’m sure she’ll be able to set everything straight.”

“Wow, who would’ve thought those cute, tiny little mouse squeaks could form words.” The giantess plucked Aaron off her palm with the thumb and index finger of her other hand, pinching the width of his chest, just below the armpits. Aaron’s stomach dropped with a sudden weightless sensation. He nearly blacked out from the sudden force of his trajectory, but soon found himself held before the girl’s round, moon-like face, the undulating contours of her soft, blubbery breasts visible beyond his dangling feet. 

“Alright, so it’s like this. Nikki is like out sick, or dead or something. Whatever. So, I’m here in her place. See, my stepmom’s boyfriend’s dealer, well his aunt is on the board of directors for this joint. Since I’m sorely in need of funds for my band’s upcoming tour of the Midwest, they hooked me up with a gig here. We’re an all-chick crust punk group called Thunder Cunt—my band that is.”

Aaron was dumbfounded. This was simply impossible. All the time, effort, and of course, money he’d invested in this day and now, somehow things were very rapidly threatening to derail. He frantically thrust a finger towards his own ear. “Oh, you must have more to say,” the giantess pointed out the obvious before lifting him back before her own ear. 

Aaron shouted, “young lady, please go get Candi in reception, she’d better straighten this mess out OR ELSE!” 

“Look little man…” Aaron watched, incredulous, as the punk chick giantess swiftly deposited him between the two whale-like bodies of her full breasts. He landed with a soft thud upon an inclination of warm, yielding flesh and promptly skittered down into the dark crevasse of cleavage, where he became hopelessly wedged, unable to move even his arms. Aaron’s new environs smelled of stale, dried sweat with the slight, ripe essence of general, unmitigated body odor common to infrequent bathers.  

With her tiny stowed away for safe keeping, the giantess resumed pacing around room 101B, further elucidating the unexpected change in Aaron’s final appointment. “First of all, you are no position to make any kind of threat to anyone right now. I may not be Nikki Thomas, or whoever, but I do know that to get to where you are, down there, you’ve signed your whole fucking life and fate over to the clinic. As such, you no longer hold any rights, or have any legal recourse. You’re technically not even a person anymore, you’re just…an object, just food, really. 

The giantess’ voice boomed down from on high, “basically, little man, before you go squeaking demands at me, understand that the clinic fucking owns you, and as an employee of the clinic, I can do whatever the fuck I want with you.”

As Aaron was paraded about, the fleshy walls of his confinement brusquely jostled and bounced with the giantess’ steps. The persistent thump-thump of her near heart (Aaron could only imagine the strong young organ’s immense size) was hypnotic—he could actually see her flesh physically pulse with its force. “…Second of all, I’m pretty sure Candi went on her lunch break, ok? So just chill. Gossip in the breakroom has it this place is a struggling a little. Fuckin’ economy is in a recession after all. Apparently, there’s been some budget cutbacks lately, and whatnot. So listen, today might not be everything you’d hoped it would be, but hey, that’s fucking life, am I right? I’m here, you’re here. Let’s fuckin’ do this thing. Trust me, I’ll make sure you get what you paid for.”

Aaron could not believe what he was hearing. Here, so it now seemed, he’d sacrificed the entirety of his life—both figuratively and literally—spent hours plotting out every last tiny detail of his final session with Nikki, and signed over all of his legal rights and financial assets to The Clinic, only to find himself at the mercy of a bratty little punk bitch. This can’t be happening!

The giantess fished Aaron out of her cleavage and raised him before her huge nose— Aaron stared at an oily hillside, fertile with ping-pong-ball-sized blackheads—proceeding to sniff him deeply. “Ripe,” she commented with some degree of pride. The sound of the girl inhaling through her two, immense tunnel-like nostrils rivaled the fiercest hurricane gales.

The giantess carried Aaron over to the sofa where she plopped him roughly down on the coffee table before shoving her bag aside and parking her prodigious ass down on the cushion. She pulled a small high-rise caliber switchblade from an inside pocket of her jacket and began to pick the grime out from beneath her fingernails (spotted with fragments of faded, chipped black nail polish). The pebble-sized crusty bits began to pile up at Aaron’s feet. 

“Now,” the punk chick continued, still idly picking at her nails, “I read over your file—well I skimmed it anyways. I mean Christ, that fuckin’ thing was like more than a hundred pages. You’re one sick little puppy you know that? I mean I guess I can see wanting to be tiny, for a while anyways. You know, since tits and ass and pussy are so great at normal size, how much cooler would they be all giant and blown up, right? But I must say, wanting to be eaten, digested, and shat out by a giant woman, that my little man, is some fucked up, beta-ass shit.”

Aaron scanned his surroundings, desperate for an avenue of escape. Nothing survivable presented itself. He turned his attention back to his hardcore captor. “Point is, I got the gist of your ridiculous little kink. I’m not here to judge. You want to be gobbled up, and I missed out on breakfast this morning,” she patted her protuberant belly to illustrate her point, “it was meant to be!”

A leaden, potent dread was taking root inside of Aaron. His stomach sunk and his head began to throb. Is this really happening? Am I really going to wind up in the mountain dew and Doritos-laden guts of this snotty little punk princess? As if sensing Aaron’s train of thought, the giantess offered the weak tea of her consolation: “I may not be what you were expecting, but the fact is, I’m now your ‘diminished statue doula’ or whatever the fuck. Besides, if I leave this room without you sloshing around in my tummy, I could get fired.”

“So, what do you say we get this show on the road? Let me show you why no fewer than a dozen area bass players call this mouth,” she pointed playfully at her massive, waiting lips, “the ‘hall of oral delights.’” Aaron watched, frozen in terror, as the giantess’s hand reached out for him with lightning quick speed. She snatched him up in her fingers as she shifted her significant weight into a reclined position on the sofa. 

Aaron was summarily hoisted about ten inches or so directly over the giantess’ mouth. Plumes of her hot, nasty breath rose up to greet him. She reclined her head all the way back, displaying the muscular litheness of her immense, creamy throat. “One giant lady digestion fantasy, coming up! Bottoms up little man!” The giantess then threw her slaver-lubricated jaws open wide—sunlight from a nearby window glinted off a thick metal stud center of her waiting, saliva-saturated tongue.  

Aaron screamed as he felt himself drop like a stone. The revolting, yawning cavern of the giantess’ glistening orifice rushed up towards him with a terrible speed. He landed violently on the slimy, glutinous expanse of the girl’s fat, muscular tongue. Aaron tried to roll over and climb towards the fire-pole-thick tongue-stud at the center of the writhing, rough-textured carpet. Maybe he could grab ahold and avoid a trip down the giantess’ waiting throat. 

It became immediately clear, however, that the tongue was in charge—Aaron had no say in the matter. The deft, dominating muscle quickly painted him in a thick, viscid film of spit and then set about tossing, rolling, flipping, and toying his inert little body about the swelting cavern like a soggy ragdoll. Aaron could do little but gasp for breath—the giantess’ omnipresent saliva endlessly filled his mouth and nostrils—and hold on for the ride. Endless squalls of the girl’s humid breath rushed over Aaron’s naked body—its revolting stench now amplified by his intra-oral status. 

His adventure inside the punk rock chick’s mouth was characterized by segments of pitch black, stifling terror as she drew succulently upon his helpless body with her lips sealed tight. But now and then, she would open her mouth a bit to allow flashes of light inside the reeking cavity. These moments were far more terrifying as they allowed Aaron to take in all the grisly details of his close, dripping surroundings. 

Trusses of thick saliva spanned from the roof of her mouth down to her tongue. Her large, crowded rows of teeth, coated with a spume of bubbly spit, threatened to impale and disembowel Aaron at any moment. The soaring cathedral ceiling of her ridged hard palate loomed overhead, tapering gradually back towards the soft, fleshy arch of the entranceway to her throat—this terrifying gateway was guarded by a pair beefy, pitted, Volvo-sized tonsils and bisected by the pendulous, quivering appendage of the girl’s uvula. 

Every now and then the giantess’ powerful, knobby tongue would vault Aaron up into the grooved roof of the giant mouth, pinning him firmly in place. The tiny, helpless man’s ears would then pop with a sudden change in air pressure while, from below, a resounding, wet slapping noise sounded *GLICK*–this was the giantess swallowing down her excess saliva (Aaron could easily imagining himself slipping down into pulsating darkness, carried along on a river of foul, sudsy spit). 

After a minute or two of violent thrashing about, the giantess’ tongue relaxed and worked more tenderly upon Aaron’s spit-soaked, now-wrinkled flesh. Gradually, a gentle vector of steady suction took ahold as the girl began to slurp him tenderly like a hard candy. With the undulating, wet papillae of her tongue probing him slowly, yet eagerly from beneath while her firm, cartilaginous bridge pinned him tightly in place from above, the gentle constant friction gradually inspired in the prone, tiny man, a powerful throbbing erection. 

Aaron quickly lost track of his mounting concerns as powerful waves of pleasure wracked his body. Of fuck, I’m going to cu— Without warning he ejaculated forcefully onto the giantess punk rocker’s pitching and yawing tongue. 

“What the fuck—” A massive, dirty finger invaded the girl’s mouth and plucked Aaron free of its fetid, unfenestrated recesses. The giantess held him, dripping with spit and semen, before her face. “Did you just bust a nut in my mouth?” The girl flapped her tongue about inside her closed mouth with a thoughtful expression on her face—like a wine connoisseur sampling a pricey vintage. “Mm, not bad.” Aaron watched her throat rise and fall as she quaffed his surprise genetic sample. 

“Well little man, I guess you like me after all,” she winked coyly at Aaron with her large, cerulean eyes. “I was literally about to swallow you down when you popped off, but, you’ve suddenly become more interesting. Maybe we can explore some of that other shit from your file, after all. I’m Haleigh, by the way.”

“Hmmm let’s see, I know there was something in your little pervy dossier about wanting to be stuffed down my panties. Right? I’m happy to oblige, but you should be aware—the water got shut off last week at the artist’s collective where I squat. As such, things aren’t the freshest they’ve ever been down there, if you catch my drift.”

The spent and beleaguered Aaron barely registered what the punk giantess had said before he once again found himself hurtling downwards, pinioned between her vice-like fingers. His theme-park-ride tumble jerked to an abrupt stop before a vast, inverted triangle of gauzy purple fabric. The girl had stepped out of her filthy jean skirt and now held Aaron, like a sacrificial offering, before her pelvis.

The unwashed scent of furrowed flesh was even more potent and invasive at his new attitude. Something else was in the mix: a sour, tangy, feminine aroma. In his peripheral vision, Aaron saw the girl’s other massive hand swoop in and pull back the elastic waistband of her purple tights. He was rudely hoisted up and over this boundary and then tossed abruptly into the hammock-like inner-crotch of a crusty, befouled red G-string. 

Aaron stumbled headlong into the garment’s crotch panel and scraped his face across a dried smear of yellow-brown gunk. A fragment of this brittle, dehydrated discharge chunked off and clung to his lips. The little man swiped it away and held back the vomit that had risen in his throat. He rolled onto his back in time to watch the light overhead slowly vanish behind a descending terminus of shadow—the giantess was sealing him inside her dirty panties!

The last thing Aaron saw before he descended into a rank darkness was a wall of thick, coarse, black pubic hair rushing towards him. The girl released the tension on her underwear’s waist band and the crotch snapped back into place, thrusting Aaron’s tiny body deep inside her dense, smelly bush. The fermented miasma (mingle with the ammonia essence of stale piss) of her unwashed cunt was a thousand times more potent inside the befouled fork of the giantess’s G-string. Tears stung his eyes. The scent seemed to fill his nostrils. He choked for breath—the available air was simply too heavy, fetid and wet to breath properly.

A series of violent tremors sounded—the punk chick giantess walked over to the bed and laid down on its leopard-print linen, “man this is like the set of some weird-ass porno flick—I swear any second a conga-line of monster-dicked dudes is gonna bust through that door and go to town on me.” The giantess’ movement had worked Aaron deeper inside her overgrown bush. His face now pressed immovably into the oily folds of the girl’s generous, inner-labial meat. 

“Actually, that thought kind gets me wet.” Aaron felt a wave of pressure against his back as the giantess reached a hand back inside her tights and began to knead her fingers against the outside of her panties. “You don’t mind if I get off too, do you little man? It’s only fair.” The force of the giantess’ probing fingers increased as Aaron panicked. I can’t breathe, she’ll crush me to death in here! He began to jerk his little body about frantically, clawing blindly for a way to escape. 

“Oh fuck! Yeah, whatever you’re doing little man keep it up. That feels so fuckin’ good! Mmmmmmm.” In the next instant, the flesh and fur pressing in against Aaron became saturated in a thick, pungent, creamy lather—evidence of the giantess’ growing excitement. With the aid of this new lubricant Aaron slipped down into a fold of pink, almost-searingly hot flesh somewhere between the girls urethral and vaginal opening. Here the constant, undulating pressure of the giantess’ massaging fingers was less forceful, even vaguely pleasurable. 

After a few minutes of listening to the giantess’ soft moaning— while wiping the constant drip of creamy gruel from his face and struggling to keep his balance as the girl periodically raised and bucked her hips in blind pleasure—Aaron discovered, improbably, that he was once again hard. What’s more, the giantess’ pressing fingers involuntarily thrust his rigid little cock against the nearest saturated plane of her flesh. The resultant friction, it suddenly dawned on him, would soon facilitate yet another earth-shattering orgasm. 

Disturbed by the idea of coming a second involuntary time at the whims of this punk rock brat (and not Nikki Thomas—now a fading, beautiful memory), Aaron tried to halt this masturbatory progress. But no matter what he did the slow waves of pleasure-giving pressure continued—in fact they grew more and more intense. His dick grew harder and harder, adding his own dollop of pre-cum into the piquant mix of sex fluids. 

The giantess writhed and bucked atop of the mattress as her own digital ministrations brought her within range of a powerful orgasm. “Oh fuck, yeah. I’m gonna fucking cum!” Aaron’s held on for dear life as the giantess thrashed about on the mattress. His dick rubbed harder and faster against her wet folds and a rush of pleasure surged into his pelvis. Ooh, fuck, me too!

Aaron’s dick shot off with an explosion of orgasmic ecstasy at the very moment the giantess punk chick reached her own pulsating climax. “Oh fuck yessssssssssssssss!” His semen was quickly swallowed up by a new, heavier flow of frothy white cum from the capacious cunt. For a while, Aaron laid back in the still darkness, feeling the aftershocks of the girl’s orgasm quiver through her near, tender flesh. Just when he thought she’d forgotten about him entirely, blinding light assaulted his eyes. The girl peeled back her panties, dug around inside, and at last seized upon Aaron’s tiny body. 

Aaron felt himself tugged free of the giantess’ now even more decimated G-string. His lungs drank in the fresh air with a stinging gratitude. Haleigh rocketed Aaron up to her mouth where he was treated to a gruff, thorough tongue bath. “Mmm,” she murmured as she slurped his and her cum from the crevices of his little body, “yum. She sniffed him again and declared, “oh man, you reek of pussy little dude.” Indeed, Aaron could smell himself and concluded no amount of washing could ever cleanse the girl’s scent from his skin. The giantess then deposited Aaron on the rolling mound of her belly, just above her navel and laid back, catching her breath. 

Aaron studied the girl’s face in the middle distance, searching for signs of what might come next, the pale rotund ground beneath him swelled and receded with the girl’s normalizing respiration. “Wow, I haven’t cum like that in a good long while. A girl works up an appetite after something like that.” As though on cue, a loud gurgle sounded beneath Aaron’s feet. “I know there was more twisted shit you wanted before the grand finale…but, I’m kinda tired…and frankly, bored.

Suddenly Aaron remember what the giantess told him before bringing him twice to head-spinning orgasm: “…you want to be gobbled up, and I missed out on breakfast this morning…besides, if I leave this room without you sloshing around in my tummy, I could get fired…” Oh fuck, I think I know what’s coming next.

“Anyways, I’ve got an 11:15 in 88A rapidly approaching. I think it’s time we wrap this up.” Before he could react, the giantess (she had amazing reflexes for a slightly overweight, massive giant) seized him from off her gut and stood up from the bed. She marched back over to the sofa, exhumed a bag of Fritos from her messenger bag, and tore open the packaging. 

“I’m kind of a picky eater. I’m terrible with trying new foods. I think I’ll just toss you in with my chips. You don’t mind, do you? I’m mean, you’ll end up in the same place either way” She patted her paunch playfully. Before Aaron could protest he was dropped inside the enormous bag of Fritos. 

Unbelievable. Today was supposed to have been his BIG day. A day hosted by the stunning, inventive Nikki Thomas.  Nikki was suppose to have stomped around the cardboard city in high heels, smashing buildings and playfully attempting to crush Aaron as he fled the urban mockup. Nikki was supposed to have forced him to smell, lick and worship her sexy bare feet. Nikki was supposed to have stuffed him in her (recently washed) panties; Nikki was supposed to have played the evil, diabolical, scheming giantess who mind-fucked him into begging to be her little man-snack!

All the planning, all the promises—they’d turned to shit the moment this fat punk bitch walked into room 101B. Not much I can do about it now. I’m completely at the mercy of this lazy, corner-cutting psycho. In a few seconds, or minutes, she’ll pluck me out of this fun-house sized bag of Fritos, toss me in her nasty mouth, chomp me into a paste and slide me down her massive, dark throat. Down in her plump, gurgling tummy—that’ll be the end of Aaron Francis Baxter. 

Aaron climbed clumsily over the pile of man-sized corn chips, searching in vain for a nook or cranny beyond the grasp of the girl’s dive-bombing, saliva moistened fingertips—no such place existed. The softball sized salt granules scraped against his skin and stung his eyes. He began to wheeze on account of all the flying Frito dust. Occasionally, the giantess would shake her bag of Fritos throttling its contents in a violent, disorienting jumble. 

At last the fateful moment came. It sounds cliché, but Aaron watched the entire scene transpire in slow motion. The giantess’ plump yet nimble fingers penetrated the snack bag and seized upon two corn chips. As she lifted the pending mouthful out of the bag, the chips pressed against Aaron, pinning him in between and thus, carrying him up out of the bag—like some fucked up snack time version of the claw machine in kid’s arcades—and back into the (very temporary) daylight. 

This was his last chance to get Haleigh’s attention and, somehow, convince her to reach Candi at The Clinic’s front desk. “Please! Don’t eat me! It’s all a mistake! Get Candi! Candi at the reception desk!” He screamed himself hoarse. It was no use. The giantess utterly ignored him. She was busy playing around on her phone and didn’t even glance at her food as it chaperoned Aaron up towards her wet, crumb-dusted lips and pumping jaw. Haleigh had already forgotten about Aaron. After she’d had her fun, he simply ceased to exist to her. Now he was merely an object at the disposal of her own comfort and pleasure. Now he was just food. 

As the giantess’ Frito and tiny-man payload neared her busily munching mouth, the Haleigh’s dripping jaws parted to accommodate her next bite. Aaron watched as the massive tongue on which he’d so recently ejaculated welcomed him back. Now its slimy, bumpy curvature was covered in a layer of spitty, masticated Frito bits. As he drew nearer to the foul cavern, the giantess exhaled treating Aaron to a hot, putrid wind. Not only did the violent gale reek of the girl’s now familiar, heinous breath—mingled, of course, with the treacly scent of concentrated Fritos—but it was also weaponized with flying clods of masticated corn chips which pelted Aaron’s body. 

In the next instant, Aaron was thrust back into the Haleigh’s mouth. This time, however, the experience was wholly different. The girls immense, powerful jaws immediately set about pulverizing the newly arrived Frito chips, making no distinction between salty snack and salty tiny man. Helplessly, Aaron was bounced about from cheek to tongue to hard palate and back again, all the while narrowly evading the relentless crash of her boulder-sized molars. 

Haleigh masticated her mouthful of man and chip, soon deluging Aaron’s small body with a coating of spit softened corn chip mush. It was from the consistency of this grotesque slop that Aaron knew the giantess would soon be ready to swallow the mess down—along with him! Shit, I’ve got to do something. 

The giantess’ tongue stud suddenly appeared in Aaron’s field of vision, just beyond his reach. Strings of spit and chunks of chewed Frito adorned the metal ball of her piercing. If I can reach that and hold on, maybe I won’t get swallowed! Aaron thought with a mad optimism. He began to scratch and crawl his way desperately towards the piercing. Just as his fingers brushed the hard, straight surface of the stud, the giantess’s tongue shifted beneath him, pulling the stud out of reach.

 Instead of grabbing ahold of the piercing, Aaron watched as a sedan-sized bolus of masticated food rolled over on top of him. He sunk deep into the blob’s soft, warm body and rode it towards the back of the Haleigh’s tongue. 

  Aaron thrashed madly, trying to free himself from the rounded mass of the giantess’ chewed food as it slid towards her waiting throat, gathering speed as it went. Fuck, she’s getting ready to swallow! If I can’t get free of this fucking slop I’m fucked! The bolus rotated as the girl arranged it at the back of her bumpy tongue, positioning it for its inevitable decent into her hungry, waiting stomach. 

This afforded Aaron an unobstructed view of the alien-like fin of the giantess’ beckoning epiglottis, flanked by those familiar tonsils—now equally coated in the omnipresent mixture of spit and chewed up Fritos. The bolus reached the entrance the giantess’ throat. Her slimy uvula hung down and draped its jelly-fish like tentacle over Aaron’s face and chest. He gagged on contact. 

Aaron stared over the crest of the girl’s epiglottis and watched as the esophageal sphincter opened onto the beckoning blackness beyond. Suddenly all light vanished as the giantess closed her mouth. Aaron felt movement as Haleigh tilted her head back slightly. The waiting ball of food-mush in which Aaron was hopelessly enmeshed, rose up and then slid down even further as her tongue pressed him and the food into the giantess’ pharynx. 

Synapses fired in the giantess’ medulla, triggering the swallowing reflex. Aaron’s ears popped with a sudden change in pressure and in the next instant he, and the blob of masticated Fritos, dropped into Haleigh’s esophagus. Peristalsis took hold and Aaron felt himself squeezed down into utter darkness amidst of surge of digestive gurgles and murmurs.

Somewhere about halfway along his journey towards the giantess’ stomach, Aaron heard a steady, resonant, familiar noise: *THUMP-WUMP, THUMP-WUMP*, the giantess’ powerful heart coursing blood and nutrients throughout her massive body. Whatever remained of Aaron after the Haleigh’s stomach was through with him would soon be distributed by the very same organ. The heartbeat noise quickly faded in intensity as Aaron’s conveyance--that mass of soft, hot masticated food and slobber—neared the sphincter to the giantess’ stomach. 

Downward progress suddenly halted. Aaron waited in digestive limbo for the sphincter to permit entrance into Haleigh’s churning gut. The darkness surrounding him was all consuming—he struggled to extract a sustaining breath from the heavy, rotten air. Another volley of sonorous belly growls and gurgles pealed as Aaron, along with the mass of gooey spit and chewed Fritos was, at last, extruded into the stomach. 

His own stomach dropped with a temporary sensation of weightlessness as Aaron tumbled the equivalent of roughly ten feet before landing with a violent splash in a reservoir of chunky, vile-smelling liquid. The chamber of the giantess’ stomach reeked of Fritos and an eye-watering acidic stench. Aaron clung to a floating island of slop as it bobbed past him, marveling at his own instinct to survive despite knowing full well, it was all over.  

Just as Aaron was about to lose consciousness, he was suddenly showered with a cold, bubbly liquid plunging down from above. He smelled the familiar cloying tang of Mountain Dew and realized the giantess was washing down the rest of her snack with a chilled, carbonated beverage. I guess I was wrong about one thing…I wound up in the Mountain Dew and Fritos, not Doritos-laden guts of this snotty little punk princess.

Aaron bobbed about the giantess’ stomach on his island of spit-congealed, mashed up food as it gradually dissolved—he’d be next. Moments before he finally slid down into the caustic digestive liquid he had a thought.  I wanted to end it all in the belly of beautiful woman, but you know what, in the rank, lightless end, I wouldn’t know the difference between Nikki’s churning gut and Haleigh’s. With than, he slipped below the roiling surface.  

You must login (register) to review.