I’d only been out of the water seconds, but the chill shocked me all over again. A thick blue fog of water pressed in at me from all sides, droning in my ears. The woman’s giant feet kicking chugged heavily from somewhere behind, like huge rudders.
My whole body was dragged down faster than if I had an iron ball manacled to me. One of my inflatables slipped off my arm and was lost from sight. One overlong arm paddled in great sweeps while the other clutched me close to the torso. I caught flashes of the eye-popping breasts, so oppressively large they blocked most of my view. Below that, the enormous toned belly and dark navel. Below that, the long bare legs blurred and darkened into receded depths. It came through my panic that I might not be dealing with a totally sane fan.
As I flailed and floundered my arms, the other of my inflatables slipped off my arm. A burst of speed accompanying a powerful set of kicks caused my swim shorts to wrench off and disappear into the watery gloom.
Then there was a sense of rotation – the woman tipped her head up to take a breath, and raised her arm so my face penetrated the surface alongside. I gulped down air, though I could hold my breath for much longer.
The woman’s hand shifted to grasp me better, but slipped as she descended again. With quick reflexes her fingers caught at whatever they could get. It felt like something big and firm snapped around my ankles and then the world went dim and cloudy blue as I was dragged below, alongside her body like a mere child’s bath toy.
Another kicking surge, another sweep of the paddling arm, and I was streaming along underwater backwards by my ankles, and wickedly fast like I was being dragged by a boat – so fast my body felt like it was stretching painfully and I could barely tell up from down. The woman was an accomplished swimmer.
The woman began using both arms to stroke, inadvertently whipping me back and forth underwater. My body ached as it was wrenched this way and that, and the sea depths became a quivering blurred shadow world, until I shut my eyes in solace from the building nausea.
A dark shape passed by, very close. A soft wall brushed right past me, and on instinct, I pushed my hands out, scrabbling against it. Then the wall slammed into me, and the fingers clutching my ankles spread, releasing me so that I found myself unmoored in the depths, with no sense of direction. Without my inflatables tugging me to surface, my body was suspended in green limbo.
I kicked towards the light, before my head finally burst out of the water, sucking in air gratefully.
Only a moment later, huge shadows grew over my body before, seemingly out of nowhere, a huge object descended on me.
There was a shattering pain in my skull. It felt like two boxing gloves had punched in on either side of my head at the same time, and held there fast. The objects were so big their edges crowded around the perimeter of my vision, blotting out my peripheral sight. Pink grooves indicated it was a pair of giant fingertips.
Dazed from the blow, my jaw worked furiously as I felt myself rising up out of the water where the chilled air blew across my naked, wet body, for a moment too stunned to take a breath.
Then the arm holding me shuddered as if struck. I was shooting back down into the water, with the pressure still resolutely fixed around my head. My captor was attempting to dive back under the waves, taking me with her, my head neatly pincered between forefinger and thumb.
I was hardly able to suck in a breath of air before the water crashed over my head, bubbling against my face in angry spurts.
I was jerked sideways and then shooting like a rocket in some unknown direction, pushing through the currents, the water tugging heavily at all sides, stretching my body. I was limp, couldn’t fight or move against the tremendous force of momentum. It was like my head had been slammed in a giant mousetrap which was now being dragged along. The pain circling my skull in pulsing waves as the fingerpads pressed my head even harder, if possible, adamant I remain in possession. I clung to my mouthful of air but its value was continuously trickling away.
The arm whipped up, attached to it by my head, I briefly rose out of the water before falling back down under the waves.
For another half-minute or so, I was caught in a constant, unpredictable rollercoaster of movement as to leave me in a state of numbed shock.
The great arm jerked again, I felt a whip of cool air on my face, before sinking underwater again within a matter of seconds. Then I slowed and felt myself turning. What felt like a thick blanket wrapped around my body and cinched tight, squeezing my precious air out of my lungs, out between my lips into a stream of bubbles that flew up past my head.
Through a sickly veil of nausea, I realized the anaconda around my torso was actually a couple of fingertips and a thumb. One of these pressed on my groin, and as I was pulled and shifted about through the water, made a sliding rubbing motion up and down over my shaft. As the fingertips slipped and flexed, my shaft was pulled towards my belly, and then nearly squashed by an unbearable grinding pressure. I tried to focus on something – anything else – but it was inescapable; my shaft began to throb sensitively, asking for relief.
Then I was flying up in the air, upside down. But as my head was still being pinched, this was unspeakably painful, pulling me in different directions, until the fingertips around my torso slipped away. My body flipped around freely in the air, putting strain on my immobile neck. I took a breath before I was pulled underwater again, and the previous fingertips found me again as if by sonar, compressing my body once more in their insistent lust for my possession.
It seemed two titanic figures were struggling in the water, at the same time trying to claim me. While one retained a solid grip on my head, I endured the simultaneous feeling of broad flat fingerpads dancing over my most vulnerable areas. It was like being jostled in a crowd of people. The thumb continuously massaged my back, sometimes poking my butt, while the pointer and middle finger shifted around my front, poking my chest and belly, and brushing back and forth over my crotch.
One of the fingers slipped, running down my stomach, before attempting to flick back up to its former position, inadvertently scratching a nail over my front. My long-healed abdominal scar gave a sharp, painful pulling sensation as if trying to draw inwards for protection. From groin to chest my entire front was alive, coursing and throbbing with attuned sensitivity.
The offending fingers curled, tucking my into the cushioned creases of the inner finger joints, squeezing to the point of making me cry out underwater, losing most of my held breath in a stream of bubbles. Now I could feel my ribs creaking inwards.
Ah God…! I thought, willing my thoughts out into the yonder above the water, you’re going to crush me!
Then, all thoughts fled as the fingers against my torso began to tug me away. For one horrible instant I was moving through the water, but the manacle was still around my head, my neck pulled at the weight of the arm capturing me. Then the arm tried to take me back. There was a brief instant as my muscles strained and screamed, finding myself in the vulnerable, hopeless position of being pulled at both ends.
My body felt like it was being teased out and caving in at the same time, my organs getting pressed into paste under the pressure, lungs and stomach flattening…another second of this and my head would surely be ripped off…
The water shuddered, as if there was some massive blow and the dueling grips on my body both released at the same time. Without thinking, I used my remaining energy to swim to where the light danced, and with my breath running out, my paddling turned into desperate clawing before I finally came up to the bright sky for air.
I waded, my limbs spread out, limp, chest heaving and aching. My ears rang and the sea sounds wavered in and out as if I was still underwater. Dazed, I scanned the landscape of blue green crests running to shore. I was still some way off the coast, but too tired to do anything. My head fell back, neck muscles scrunched and hurt. The sky wheeled around my head dizzily.
With my face up at the sky, I didn’t see the giant leg come surging up at me from beneath until it was too late. It smacked into me at full force, the sea dropped away as I went flying. My stomach collapsed as the world spun past my eyebrows. The cold air seemed to somersault around my bare body while I tumbled up, body turning in rapid circles, with no energy or ability to direct myself.
The spinning slowed at the height of ascent, before my face turned down towards the water. The forms of the two women awaited directly below, shifting and butting each other in the water in an anxious bid to position themselves beneath me. They were gripping each other and simultaneously trying to shove the other out of the way. Jen seemed to have the upper hand, with an arm around the woman’s neck and one of the woman’s arms pulled behind her back, but her head was turned up, her eyes watching my rapid descent with the hypnotic focus of a determined athlete, but weirdly disconnected, like I was an object – a spinning ball – and she was a player in some vicious, winner-take-all sport match. For an instant the tip of her tongue poured out of her mouth and ran around her lips, licking them with anticipation. I somehow knew what she was thinking before it happened.
She was going to try and catch me in her mouth, and keep me locked behind the jail bars of her teeth, where the crazy fan couldn’t get me.
The women grew in size as I dropped through the air, like I was zooming down a tunnel and their faces were at the end. Jen launched herself off the woman’s body, springing straight up out of the water like a dolphin, her mouth opening in preparation as I fretted over the safest way to impact her tongue – flat? Curled into a ball? – and hoping to God I didn’t smash my head on her teeth.
At the height of her ascent, right at the last second, the other woman jammed her elbow against Jen, knocking her sideways. I impacted the water somewhere between them, the water crashed over my head and pulled me into it, deep. I began to swim without direction. The giant forms of the women’s bodies swept around me like giant thrashing mermaids before I lost them, and they lost me. Then found myself floating, drifting vaguely underwater, and completed a slow circle around, trying to locate the surface.
I came face to face with Jen, who must have dived in search of me. Her dual-tone hair streamed behind her and her lips were pursed in concentration. Her green eyes identified me and widened. Without hesitation she pulsed through the water at me, long legs pounding behind her.
Relief began to seep throughout my body as I paddled towards her giant, oncoming face. I was so weak now I felt utterly dependent on her rescue. I would happily forgive all the rough groping of earlier as long as she got me safely away from the crazy fan.
Her speed slowed gracefully until she was hovering directly in front of me. A giant hand swept forward and poked my forehead to tip my head back, turning me vertical, before lunging forward to press a kiss against my face, and gripping my head in her lips’ suction, playfully dragging me in her direction.
Releasing me again, she shot a stream of bubbles into my face before withdrawing and mouthing ‘I love you’. In case she had trouble lip-reading my tiny lips, I made a love heart shape with my hands. Then she extended a finger towards her lips. For one absurd moment I thought she was going to follow through with the hooking gesture from the fishbowl nightmare I’d had. Instead, she pointed insistently at her mouth, which pulsed suggestively with a slurping motion – a silent appeal for me to enter for concealment from the fan. All the same, my stomach crinkled up with dread, like I’d just had a premonition.
My response stalled. With impatience, she was already gliding forwards, her lips parting, preparing to work them around my head and take me in—
Over her shoulder, something moved. The length of the other woman’s form darted out of the deep blue, barreling straight into Jen from behind, a last resort attempt to get the upper hand. She struck with a muted thud, like distant thunder. Both women jolted forward. Everything was a blur. I had no time to get out of the way.
The world shattered into disarray. I was racing along with a current of water, passing through a long dark tunnel, all sense of direction exploded. Something – a mushy wall – came speeding out of the dark and went splat into me, jerking me to a stop. To my disgust, the wall appeared to be somehow porous, containing folds like purse slits, because the force of my movement pushed my head a little inside the wall. It was like my head was pushed inside the hole of a damp sponge. For what seemed like a long time I couldn’t breathe, and frantically tried pushing against the wall that encased my head, but my hands kept slipping over the rubbery, frictionless surface.
With one final grunt of effort, I wrenched and my head came free with a wet pop. I stumbled back, blinking in a pitch black space, my feet squelching through puddled, spongy floor.
My first thought: I’m not dead. That brought a rush of such relief that I thought I might cry. The relief quickly ebbed, leaving behind a building sense of danger. Not immediate danger, like the situation I had just escaped from, but something uncertainly menacing, like kayaking over a river that might be filled with piranhas.
The wet spongy ceiling was low. Crawling on my hands and knees, I patted the ground for direction. It was mushy like the wall I’d impacted, with rubbery crevices I could fit my arm into. Water pooled around my ankles and it was difficult to move without accidentally plunging a hand or foot into the rubbery, porous folds, so I stayed in one place.
A steady beating sound came from above, throbbing through the walls. The cadence was unmistakable: it was a giant heartbeat. The blood started running out of my face. I must have been swallowed and was now sitting inside the soft surrounding anatomy of Jennifer’s stomach.
A wet guttural sound filled the air, like a dog barking, and my skull hammered with every blast. With a jolt I realized it was the sound of Jen coughing, the sound amplified and bassy due to the size difference and the fact I was hearing it resounding down her esophagus and echoing inside the pit of her gut.
“JERRY…”
Her voice throbbed around the stomach lining like a cave echo. I slapped my hands against my ears as her voice drummed through my head.
“I’m here!” I shouted as loud as I could, cringing at how my tiny voice echoed.
“HANG ON, BABY!”
As the deafening sound surged down the throat towards me, I covered my ears and sunk my head down into the porous folds of the stomach lining in an attempt to further mute the painful sound.
Some kind of liquid came spilling down, splattering onto my head, disgustingly bitter. I gagged as it ran down my face, then waded over to a section of the stomach wall, a mass of furrowed flesh, and in desperation, began punching and kicking the spongy folds. The problem was, the flesh was so soft and moist the blows didn’t strike, but sunk in deep. If the stomach wall had been taut, like an ear drum, the beating might have made an impact, but as the flesh absorbed the impact, it probably did little good.
Another load of bitter liquid spattered over my head.
The calm was interrupted by a groaning sound, and then the stomach walls began to convulse, stirring up squishing, splashing sounds, quickly transforming the space into a bubbling cauldron.
I jumped up with terror as the warm air began transforming into a sauna. The walls of the stomach were clenching and jiggling, causing puddles of fluid to froth like a bubble bath, and the bubbly froth was slowly climbing the walls, creeping up over my face until I was lost in it. It got in my eyes and was accidentally sucked up my nose. Coughing and wading, I fanned my hands, anxiously trying to clear the screen of fizz – bitterly scented with whatever liquid had spilled down.
The stomach’s jiggling turned into powerful flexing motions, sweeping the fluid around in a whirling vortex. Not only did this whip up more froth, but sucked me into a powerful eddy of bitter stomach juices which were starting to make my skin tingle and burn. The building maelstrom spun me and tipped me around under the froth. My head jabbed into another porous fold, became wedged there, and as I kicked and flailed, squelched free again. Completely disoriented, I accidentally breathed in more burning, acrid froth, making me feel like my body was being gnawed at from inside out. Flicked around and turned upside down, blood raced into my head. The blackness was all-encompassing, entering my head, I was about to black out…
More bitter liquid spouted down onto my face and then the stomach compacted inward violently, the interior pressure became too much, and I was shooting upwards like toothpaste being squeezed out of the tube, gargling and squirming—
I burst into the world as naked and dazed as a newborn baby, riding a spray of bitter liquid and thumping onto a towel.
I wiped my eyes and found dark liquid running off my body, before the towel humped on either side and enfolded me, rubbing me up and down vigorously, rolling me over, scrubbing me, and rolling me again. Powerless to resist it, I relaxed, letting the powerful motions flip and massage me about.
Finally the heaps of towel lifted, and I was staring up at Jen, who was leaning over me. She was sweating and blanched – positively ill looking – and panting. Later I learned she had drained ipecac she kept in her bag and stuck her finger down her throat to induce herself to vomit. The ipepac made her look feverish, but five minutes later she was back to normal.
The edges of the towel lifted, rose into the air and landed on Jen’s lap. I was again set upon between two towel-covered walls, rolled and rubbed back and forth, and too exhausted to resist, let myself be flipped around and around between her towel-covered palms as they feverishly worked me like a twig and she was trying to rub a fire into ignition until my skin was practically red raw.
Finally, I gasped for a breath, pushing against her palms, and she stopped, dropping me back into her lap. One hand slid out of the towel and cupped around me protectively, her fingers running over my chest for my heartbeat – even as she didn’t realize she was doing it – pushing under my armpit and probing around my neck for the reassuring throb of an artery. Her thumb must have found it, it remained buried under my jaw, stroking my neck.
“DID YOU…” Natalie’s voice floated over, sounding shaky, as her footsteps thumped down in the sand nearby, “DID YOU JUST…” She seemed to be silently begging Jennifer to interrupt her with a flat denial. But when the other just pinned her with a defiant ‘yup’ look, she clapped a hand over her mouth and took a step back, the whites of her eyes too visible.
“OH MY GOD!”
“WHOA,” came Grant’s voice, an understated deadpan. “OKAY THEN.”
The sunset was like melted gold on the water, and the surrounding beach was going dark. People were leaving the water. No one else seemed to have realized what had just happened. I blinked across the shoreline, looking for the woman, but she was nowhere in sight. She must have swum away when Jen got out of the water.
*
“The whole time I’ve been at Tiferno,” I said. “I’ve never come across crazy like that.”
My reverse passage up Jen’s digestive tract had put a prompt end to the easy mood of the afternoon. After a quick goodbye, Natalie and Grant had returned to their car, the former’s cheeks blanched as if she’d swallowed a bottle of ipecac herself and was thinking of mimicking the act.
Now we drove under the night sky. No booster seat; Jen’s thighs were acting as my harness. I stared into the darkness beneath the steering wheel, while she navigated the streets leading back home.
“Now I see why you stay here. You like crazy,” I finally said, under my breath. She still heard me.
“NO KIDDING. I LIKE YOU.”
I scoffed. Touché.
“You don’t want to move. But I’ve always wanted to leave the Bay. Now you see why?” I was referring to my pre-shrink plans, which I’d contemplated up to the GPR party.
“AM I NOT ALLOWED TO CHANGE MY MIND?” she said smoothly.
“The problem is, your mind changes like a traffic light. A lot.”
“I’M ALSO RUNNING A LOT MORE TRAFFIC THROUGH MY MIND THAN YOU ARE, PIPSQUEAK.”
I went quiet. Satisfied, she let the silence settle in.
The scent of her sex – just behind me – was starting to thicken over my face, clinging almost like a wet blanket. The earlier insertion had triggered her womanly glands to start drooling in hunger for me. She had a particular scent; spicy, foreign, dominating. It speared up my nostrils and into my brain with unavoidable suggestion. Whether or not she could help it, my unexpected tour of her stomach must have enlivened her kink. Maybe she was savoring the phantom sensations of my punching and kicking around in there, and head poking into the membranous folds, like some weird stomach massage from within – savoring the memory even as we spoke.
“Hey,” I piped up.
The plush muscles gave me a squeeze of acknowledgement.
“TALK TO ME, CUTIE.”
“Think I might invite Natalie to the wedding. Actually…I already have.”
“OOH…OKAY,” she said simply.
“Not a problem?”
“I DON’T KNOW. IS THERE?”
“No. I mean…Just thought you’d want to know.”
Her thighs gave me another reassuring squeeze, which made my tired out muscles twinge.
“YOU DON’T NEED MY PERMISSION FOR THAT. I MEAN, WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME I ASKED YOU FOR PERMISSION FOR ANYTHING?”
She had a point there.
My eyelids grew heavier and began to drop. The car jerked and swerved, a car horn blared very closeby. My eyelids cracked open again.
She made a small, tutting gasp. Her thighs clapped into my ribs like a mousetrap, and then grinded against my body with vicious friction as her foot tapped the break a few times. Air whistled out of my lungs as they deflated like balloons.
“YOU SAW THAT, RIGHT?!” Then she remembered. “OH.” Her thighs mercifully loosened again. “DOESN’T MATTER; I’LL GIVE YOU THE SHORT VERSION: THAT GUY WAS AN ASSHOLE.”
I let out a long, steady breath. Any more of that and I was going to end up pasted around her inner thighs like paint.
As the car engine filled my head, my eyelids began to fall again.
“SORRY,” she said, calming. “IF YOU WANT TO THROW UP BECAUSE OF HIM, I WON’T BLAME YOU. JUST GIVE ME THE WARNING FIRST, AND I’LL HOLD YOU OUT THE WINDOW.”
It was not my stomach, but my mind that was stirring with unrest.
“What was it like?” I said suddenly.
“WHAT?”
“Me being in your stomach.”
“WHY DO YOU WANT TO KNOW?”
She was smiling.
“Why wouldn’t I want to know? How many people get that experience?”
She laughed.
“’GET THAT EXPERIENCE’? LISTEN TO YOU. MY STOMACH LINING HAS NEVER BEEN GRACED BY SUCH CELEBRITY.”
I rolled my head against her leg.
“You know what I mean. Just answer the question.”
She answered in a low, pensive voice:
“NOT WHAT I THOUGHT.”
“What do you mean?”
“I COULDN’T TELL YOUR HEAD FROM YOUR COCK. SO THERE’S THAT.”
“You liked it, or not?”
“WHEN YOU’RE IN MY MOUTH,” she began, “I CAN SUCK YOU, CURL YOU UP, FLIP YOU AROUND, MAKE YOU DO TRICKS. WHATEVER I WANT, BASICALLY. YOU’RE JUST A SOFT SQUISHY LITTLE TOY IN THERE, AND YOU DO WHAT MY TONGUE TELLS YOU. IT’S FUN AS FUCK, THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING.”
“And me being in your stomach is not.”
“DOES IT MATTER? YOU’D NEVER GO BACK, ANYWAY.”
“Just asking.”
She was quiet for a long time. And then, suddenly she was talking again, as if she’d never stopped:
“YOU WERE TOO FAR AWAY. KINDA SCARY EVEN. BUT IN MY MOUTH…IT’S SO INTIMATE.” Her voice acquired a kind of moan as if she was talking about a favorite dessert. “MORE THAN A HUG. MORE THAN SEX. GOD, I FEEL YOU ALL OVER MY TONGUE. AND YOU’RE INSIDE MY HEAD, AND I HEAR YOU LIKE YOU’RE INSIDE MY BRAIN. ANY CLOSER AND YOU WOULD BE ME.” She added, now exhilarated: “SO HOW MANY PEOPLE GET THAT EXPERIENCE?”
“You got me there.”
“YUP. I GOT YOU ALRIGHT.”
A hand descended and gave my skull a soft squeeze, waking me up a little, and staying there to comb through my hair and tweak my ears.
“EVER WISHED YOU WERE ME?” she casually inquired.
I gave a small spurt of laughter.
“Can’t say I have.”
“LIKE, ROLE REVERSAL.”
“No, no, and no.”
“GOOD ANSWER. WE’RE ON THE SAME TEAM, JERRY.”
“We’re getting married,” I said obviously.
“THAT IS ABSOLUTELY CORRECT. ANOTHER GOOD ANSWER.”
“Is this Team Mousseau, or Team Tomlin?”
“NO, NO, THIS IS TEAM JERRY FITS IN JENNIFER’S HAND.”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “I didn’t say anything about us not being the same size.”
Her hand lifted from my head, returning to grip the steering wheel.
Without any warning, she pulled the car over in a shaded strip, and with the engine shut off, put me down on the passenger seat.
She took out some liquid hand soap from her bag and used a tissue to wipe me down.
“What are you doing?” I said.
“I FORGOT TO CLEAN YOU EARLIER.”
“Can’t it wait until home?”
“I BELIEVE THIS IS TOTALLY DESERVED SINCE I SAVED YOUR LIFE.”
She was still only wearing the bikini, and was now anxiously undoing the strings at her waist.
My body was grasped up and swooped down again. She stretched and shifted over the seat, with wide open legs, plunging me into the puffy glistening lips for a drawn out French kiss, with my body as the tongue, slipping into her purse. The passage was already so wet it was like being eagerly slurped in, and I was in pitch blackness in an instant, my body completely out of sight again. She restarted the car and resumed the drive, meanwhile, my lungs pulled at the air, my muscles beginning to wring and stretch.
The passage was a threshold marking the transition my body made from independent person to throbbing organ working synchronously with the great machinery of her sexual anatomy, every muscle in my body worked throughout the drawn out rise and fall. Like a factory it was noisy, steamy, every surface was oozing oily lubricant. the pelvic floor pistoning in and out against me like collapsing walls, causing the ribbed fleshy sleeve of her tunnel to pull tight around until I was stiff as wood.
My face got caught in one of the shallow pockets of ribbed fleshy folds, like the segment of a scrunchy tube, and the contracting muscle walls became a rock-hard, migraine inducing helmet. Glandular run off sweated along the walls, had began to pool in the fold and squelched around my ears, trapping my head in what felt like a rubbery moisture filled bag. She was running like a leaking faucet, every rapid contraction splashed and dunked my head around the sweating puddle. As I coughed and gasped for air, more of it surged down my throat.
Her back arched, and butt drove hard into the seat as she came.
“SOOO NICE,” she moaned.
All my sensory organs were drowned in her sexual organ, so I had no idea whether she was still driving, or had pulled over the side of the road, or was home, parked in the garage, or even, was back inside the house. It didn’t make much difference; I spent much of the rest of the night wholly embedded in the bewitching, pitch black, anti-gravity chamber that was her pelvic crypt. The post-climactic twitches made my muscles ripple and pull at random. Then she felt me touching her, somewhere deep and out of sight between her hipbones, and decided to go again.