A smile stretches across your lips, scarcely able to believe that this is really about to happen! More dreams than you can possibly count have revolved around you being in this very situation. But this wasn’t a dream, no, not this time.
Taking a deep breath, you count the seconds as they pass by. The serum had been emptied only a few minutes prior, all in one neat swig, just as the instructions had described. Leaving nothing but a few drops at the bottom of an otherwise empty glass tube. Now, it’s only a matter of waiting until it kicks in! A few more moments and the very scenario you’ve had locked away in the deepest successes of your mind for most of your life would come to fruition!
Admittedly, snagging a vial hadn't been easy on the bank. Although, paying a small fortune was nothing when weighed properly against living out a fixation you’ve had your entire life. Presented with the opportunity from a shady down on his luck friend, there wasn’t a chance in hell you’d have passed this up.
For months since acquiring the concoction, you’d been planning this. A trip to your favorite author's apartment! Finding her address had been no easy feat. She’d been pretty good at covering her tracks. No faces to go off, no locations made public. But eventually, like everyone, she said the wrong thing to the wrong person. Did you feel a little creepy going to such lengths? Sure. But ultimately, she’d never be the wiser if everything went to plan.
You'd get in, observe her for a few days, and get out safe and sound. Of course, they'd be plenty of fun in between.
Hell, your research had been so exhaustive that you even looked up the floor plans ahead of time, leaving as little up to chance as possible. You'll be in a relatively dangerous situation after all. A condition that never left your thought process. Yet, that's half the fun! The thrill of not being seen, the danger lurking in every footfall.
To help further hedge your bets, you’d drunk enough to be a total speck in comparison to the rest of the world around you. The safe dosage you'd been advised to take would have left you at about eight centimeters, depending on metabolism and body weight. However, that size would be far too apparent to the naked eye. No, you'd need to go smaller.
So naturally, you did the math, double and even triple-checked it. Being so methodical, you bothered to find the speed of your metabolism via some experiments with water. Gross, but efficient.
Knowing the math behind it all meant you could accurately put yourself at the perfect height, two centimeters. Meaning you were looking at consuming the whole bottle in a single go. All or nothing, you'd be going all in. However, the minimal size forces you to think of some creative ideas to move around once you get inside. Though, being without clothes for the entirety might take some getting used to.
Shit, that's right! You completely forgot about your clothes! Sheepishly, you glance around, making sure the coast is clear before removing them. Tucking them away into a messy ball, you throw them just beyond the view of Alexis' door. However, you make sure to snag the napkin from your pocket first.
Gently, you unroll the white patterned party paper, revealing a familiar array of microscopic tools you had spent the last few months carefully honing and crafting. Devices small enough to fit in the hands of a two-centimeter tall you! Unfortunately, you don't get the opportunity to lay them out properly.
The assortment of gadgets falls to the porch step, making teeny indistinguishable as they impact the concrete. An intense wave of nausea passes over you, forcing you to hold the side of your head in some vain attempt to stabilize. It's an unmistakable sign that the transformation is starting! With no time to waste, you reach up and ring the doorbell.
You stumble backward, already having lost most of your height. The world grows dizzy, becoming a struggle to hold down the hastily eaten lunch you’d thrown together earlier. The doorbell that was once chest height now towers a horrifying distance above you, and it's getting difficult to focus on its shape. The rate at which you're shrinking is utterly terrifying in ways you can't wholly quantify.
A sick part of you wonders what it would be like if this insane rate of diminishment never slowed. What if you shrank away into nothing?
Desperately you grab at the napkin full of tools, losing centimeter upon centimeter by the second. Unable to even unfold the napkin in time, you collapse into a sickly pile. The once sharp vision you previously held starts to fade, but you manage to just barely retain consciousness.
The door to the young lady's apartment swings open with a staggering amount of force, and she steps out abruptly without more than a quick peek outside. You scream as a wall of fuzzy pink nearly smashes you into a fine paste right off the bat, coming not even inches away from the makeshift carry case.
Alexis’ socked foot, the very same one that had only moments ago nearly ended your adventure early, sits idly for a moment, and all you can do is stare in existential dread at how tremendous it is. Thinking over and over on how close those warm-looking socks had come to erasing you out of existence. What would it be like to become a permanent resident of those fibers? Would you even feel it happen?
From there, your eyes move upwards across her impossibly large body, marveling at her smooth legs and the comfortable yet fashionable booty shorts. The crop top she’s wearing, combined with her American-Asian visage, both captivates and astounds you.
Then, her gaze turns to you. Or rather, the napkin you brought over. She scoffs, assumedly in annoyance at the trash left on her porch. Too scared to move, you watch in slow motion as she bends down, folding you into darkness. Had she been in a slightly more observant mood, what would have happened? Would she have smashed you, mistaking your feeble form for a bug?
You start to hyperventilate, still encased in deep darkness. Alexis’ warmth envelopes everything in a blanket of her scent. Vanilla scented lotion, with a hint of strawberry. It's somehow both stimulating and comforting. Something inside of you just wants to close your eyes and curl up. After only a few additional moments, it starts to drive you crazy with its intensity, giving you an irrational urge to lash out and hump anything around you in some kind of feral frenzy.
However, it's only a matter of seconds before you’re shaken out of the primal stupor. There’s a clear impact as you are placed down, and the door is shut tightly, sealing your only shot at escape. Despite being so thoroughly wrapped inside the thin paper, you’re small enough to feel the very gusts of turbulence produced by the door.
She hurries up the stairs, leaving you petrified. You miscalculated, finding yourself miles out of your depth. This isn't worth getting off to, no way, no how. Fuck, if something happened, you have little faith that body would ever be found. In the very best case, she'd likely believe she smushed a bug.
Your mind lingers on the possibilities. Sucked up in a vacuum, like lint on the carpet? Perhaps wiped up amidst a variety of crumbs on the counter. Did she have cats? Your body shudders, even the most depraved parts of your mind unwilling to go that far.
Among the internal turmoil, another more prompt thought crosses your mind. Would Alexis be coming back?
You find yourself in a state of internal panic, unsure if now is the right time to make a move. Several more minutes pass by, and eventually, you make the agonizing decision to work your way through the folds of the crumpled napkin. Luckily, she hadn’t squeezed too tight. Otherwise, you’d probably be a gooey mess right about now.
Crawling out from under the napkin prison, you find yourself naked amid the vast openness of some girl's kitchen counter. Someone you’re starting to realize you barely knew. As for your tools? They'd been lost in the commotion. The rations you had so carefully prepared, along with the simplistic tools meant to make scaling areas possible at your pathetic size. All of them are likely in a disheveled pile on Alexis' porch.
Immediately the plan went to shit. It's both frustrating and terrifying. You feel so helpless and unprepared. Coming here has undoubtedly been an enormous mistake. Briefly, you consider grabbing the creator's attention but quickly shrug it off. Even if you managed to catch her gaze, how would she take some fan sneaking into her home like this? Not well, you imagine. The idea is way too dangerous.
You want to cry, kick, maybe even scream out in frustration as you peer over the sheer white cliff making up the kitchen counter. All this careful planning, months of prep, dashed in a single moment by some short girl's stupid foot.
However, it isn't all doom and gloom. Another part of you feels validated. You're inside her house! Looking across the cozy kitchen, your heart practically soars! Sure, the kitchen was nothing out of the ordinary, but it's such an essential part of her days! It provides every nourishing meal! The very place that fueled her every action. There's something so enchanting about the intimacy here.
Continuing to peer around the room, the sweet scent of vanilla hits your nose. A combination of sugar and coconut closely follows. Did this girl’s kitchen always smell like this or….
BEEEEP… BEEEEP… BEEEEP…
A timer goes off, causing you to scream involuntarily at the oppressive noise. The blaring sound came from the stovetop. Of course! Alexis is baking! You cover your ears in a futile attempt to minimize the ringing, but it's no use.
It goes on for a few minutes longer, the very noise nauseating you at such high decibels that you collapse into a disheveled mess. No sooner do you hit the ground than a familiar series of distant thuds come towards your position. The relatively loud but distant sound of footsteps steadily increases until they're upon you, shaking your entire world with their vibrations. Bombarded with so many sounds at once, you let out another scream, combining both your pain and anguish in one guttural noise.
Everything stops. Finally! You breathe a heavy sigh of relief, able to take your shaking hands away from your ears and rise ever so slowly back to your feet. Your jaw hangs open as a colossal shadow eclipses the kitchen's artificial light. So focused on your own pain, that you never even registered Alexis' presence.
She fumbles around, grabbing a plate and some oven mitts. Giving you another reasonably good view of her in the process. Black crop top, green booty shorts. No surprise, it's the very same get-up you'd seen moments ago. Overall, it's nothing fancy. Clearly, she's wearing them more out of comfort than anything else.
Still, you treasure every second of it, peering in on a moment you never would have been privy to otherwise. It's so thrilling, being a tiny voyeur in the home of someone whose art you'd become so intimately familiar with.
It's hard to even fathom how large she is in comparison, her every movement generating tangible gusts that threaten to knock you over. Delicately, she places the hot tray of cookies nearby before switching to her phone. Assumedly, waiting for them to cool.
Although, as her eyes look down at the pink plated square in her hands, some unexplainable force compelled her to scan the countertop, where she finds herself looking directly into you. Maybe she saw movement in the corners of his vision, or perhaps she simply spaced out, picking up your measly body by complete accident.
Regardless, once her pupils lock onto yours, a cynical part of you knows it's the beginning of the end. You'd fucked up, big time. With a measured sigh of annoyance, she puts the phone down and turns on the furious waterfall of the sink. Gallons upon gallons of water pour from the faucet as she simply wets a nearby rag. Unceremoniously Alexis brings it overhead, prepared to wipe you into oblivion.
This is it, killed like the very bugs you'd read so much about in her stories. In a matter of seconds, the rag would pulverize you into a small stain, Alexis being none the wiser. It’s a fittingly pathetic way to go out, and regret floods your emotions right before the end. Panic eating you alive; you can't do anything but shut your eyelids tightly and clench your fists.
But this isn't how your story ends, "What the fuck?" Her voice booms. She stays her hand, instead chucking the rag neatly into the sink's basin. Its drenched material splats wetly against the metal.
"Shit, I totally thought you were a crumb!" She says, her voice filled with disbelief. The fear you initially had of being discovered is sucked away, the close call with death making you more relieved than anything.
The writer leans down, now at eye level with your body. The sheer disparity in scale is incredible, her massive caramel-colored eyes highlighting just how big she is. Or, more accurately, how entirely puny you are.
You start rattling off your version of events, eager to clarify that you meant no harm, but she doesn't react as you'd expected. Instead, she squints with a hint of confusion present in her brow.
"Yeah, um, I can't really hear you." Her breath wafts across you, its warmth covering you in a blanket of fog. The smell is pleasant in its aroma. Chillingly minty breath with a hint of sweetened coffee lingering on the tail end of the breeze.
You can't help but shy away, blush painting your face a bright crimson. Something Alexis quickly clues into.
"You're all exactly the same!" Alexis snickers before blowing you onto your back effortlessly with pursed lips. She lets out another giggle before standing back up to her full height.
In an instant, the air is sucked from the room. A cold dread crawls across your back as your favorite author's tone changes drastically to one of pure, unfiltered disdain.
“So, where the fuck are you even from? And just who the fuck are you?” She’s understandably furious. Her rage brings you almost to tears with both its loudness and the sheer disgust pervading her tone. All of this was such a huge mistake. You try to plead for forgiveness, gesturing broadly as you know she can't possibly hear you. If she notices, Alexis gives no indication she cares.
Standing over you at full height, her eyes gleam at you from high above. Those eyes are capable of anything. They have a sharp intensity to them, one that makes you terrified for your life.
“Hate to break it to you, but I meet way too many people to remember each and every speck I interact with wanting to get smashed or eaten. Did I meet you on the Pinkspace server? Shit, maybe we RP’d for a little while? Oh! Or maybe you saw my stuff on Giantess World?” She cringes at the very mention.
“Never really loved that word, ‘giantess’ sounds so weird out loud.” She says as an aside, her anger disappearing. The irritation is gone; a calm apathetic acceptance washes over her.
“I guess it doesn’t really matter, huh? Bugs a bug.” She says cruelly, the sheer apathy present in each word inflicts a massive wound on your remaining sense of self-worth. In stories, you’d always found it hot. But is this really how she views you right now? A measly insect? You can't detect a single hint of insincerity across her face. But, even the meanest writers are still people, right? She wouldn't actually purposely harm you…. But you aren't very confident in that assertion.
"Sometimes I play around with you weirdos, but, I dunno. I'm pretty busy today." The statement confuses you. Has this happened before? Had others snuck in just like you? A chilling thought sweeps across you. How many people have met their end in this same apartment?
"You have no idea how many mail-ins I get." She says, annoyed.
"'Please, crush me goobess! Yeah, like I have time for that." Alexis rolls her eyes.
She lets out an exhale, "Still, I suppose you are a fan. I need to get back to it, though. So let's make this quick." You don't understand, but gather that whatever she means can't be good. You start to back up, but it's far too late to run. Gently, Alexis licks a finger before running the soaking wet digit along the counter, adhering you firmly to the very end of her plush finger.
Without hesitation, she lifts a pinky to her lips, giving only a brief moment to admire the soft ridges of its landscape before you plunge into a hot minty wonderland, her tongue wasting no time in manipulating the negligible weight of your body. The sweltering sauna of her mouth is almost forgotten in lieu of how roughly she's handling you.
First, she smashes you roughly into the ceiling of her mouth, smattering and rubbing you across the soft gums. She plays with the sensation your body provides, making you wheeze in pain as she finally manages to press too hard. A crack, as throbbing pain shoots through your chest. Oh god, this sick bitch just shattered your ribs! You wail in the humid darkness as the tongue wraps you up, rolling you around it like a glorified fidget toy.
Suddenly, light! You gasp at the sight of the outside world, confident you'd never see it again. However, you. You're greeted with a computer monitor and words on a page.
Freedom is so close, yet so far away. The mouth closes once again, saliva rapidly pooling around you as flair, trying to stay upright. Regardless of how much energy you throw into the problem, nothing changes. Still hopelessly entangled in gooey flavored spit, you find yourself swept up in a current and wished away towards the very back of her throat.
"Oh my god, did I just…." Her eyes go wide as she feels the absence of your movement, inconsequential as it may have been, in her mouth.
"Oops! I was only trying to scare you. Guess I got wrapped up with this!" She giggles, seeing the irony in the situation. Yet, there's no apology, no attempt to make it right. A realization sinks deep within your gut. You aren't nearly important enough for her to bother.
The best you can possibly hope for is to inspire some sort of one-off flash fiction. A one-shot amid all her many others.
You whimper, knowing that her body will be your tomb. Her throat lightly presses upon your tiny frame, slathering you with her body's own mixture of slime and easing you down to the turbulent environment of her stomach.
Reaching the bottom of her throat, you scream, free-falling for only a few moments before the tumble is broken with a mushy splat. Disgusted, you look down to see the remains of what could only be her lunch. Which means…
On cue, her stomach begins to churn, knowing from a lifetime with this kink that you probably only had a matter of minutes before the churning threw you into her digestive seas. Alexis, for her part, is likely still content, typing away at her latest story.
The miserable and fetid atmosphere of her insides gnaws at your sanity straight away, threatening to drive you entirely mad. Facing your mortality in the dank and dark pit of some short American-Asian girl's stomach. What a humiliating and altogether avoidable end.
Yet, those very feelings only serve to arouse you, disorienting and dissociating as you start to touch yourself to the thought that in some small way, you'd be contributing to her.
Part of you wishes she was enjoying this, but in your heart, you know that your death is an afterthought. A blip in her day, you’re quickly forgotten as she gets on with the outline for another story.
A wave of bile splashes over you, thwarting your last attempt at any sort of satisfaction you can glean from the end of your life. You tumble into a disgusting mixture of chime and glop. Acid burns your entire body, making it itch and sting almost immediately. Involuntary, you let out a scream, inviting the foul slop into your lungs.
You dip under the thick sludge, all this exertion forcing an involuntary breath. You flail in alarm, trying to somehow grasp onto something that could save you from a brutal death of melting inside Alexis' juices. But it's far too dark, and you're grabbing at nothing.
What feels like gallons of sickness invades your throat, invited in by your body's unconscious need for oxygen. Skin itches, and you feel exposed flesh already becoming tender and sore. Consciousness slips away, lungs now full of indescribable amounts of bile. You fade away, becoming a part of Alexis forever.
Alexis covers her mouth a few moments too late, briefly bringing her hand off the keyboard.
"Ugh, gross." She says, momentarily repulsed by her own body. The last thought she ever had relating to your ultimately inconsequential existence is just how gross the burp you produced was. A reasonably fitting end. At least, in her eyes.
Unbeknownst to you, the impromptu snack while waiting for her cookies to cool had generated an inkling of heat. Not much, but your inevitable demise does at the very least remind her of a reasonably arousing roleplay she once had.
Briefly switching tabs, Alexis quickly types something in #discussions.
'Ate another one! :pinkheart: :drooling:'
A few heart-laced eyes pop up under the reactions, but she doesn't linger on them, instead opting to get going on this rough draft. The stories wouldn't be writing themselves, after all.
Eventually, the furious typing of keys as she hammers out the latest creative project gives way to a good night's sleep. Unfortunately, your contribution to her body is relatively unimpressive. The negligible amount of calories you provide is burned off before the day is even over. At least in some way, you contributed to a productive workday.
Whatever makes it through the relentlessly cruel gauntlet of her body is unceremoniously disposed of the very next day. Your life and legacy amount to nothing more than a couple of calories for one of your favorite authors.