Will is still asleep when you wake up, his head burrowed in your chest. Megan has extra strong, blackout curtains. Ones that you bought for her, back in the day. The room is illuminated by the lights she left on. At first you can’t tell if this is her old home, the one she shared with you, or somewhere new. You look around the room for clues.

It doesn’t feel like a bedroom. The hills and mountain ranges, made up of everyday objects, makes this room feel like something completely foreign to you. Her bed looks like a wide, massive field. With her unmade bedsheets, acting as hillsides. The water bottle she keeps on her nightstand, is the size of a mid-rise apartment building. One you desperately don’t want to end up. The thought of cold water, rushing you into Megan’s hot, humid mouth, makes you shudder.

Between the carpet, the placement of the windows, and the paint on the wall, you surmise that this location is new to you. Maybe if this was her old place, the house you had rented together, you could have a chance of navigating your way out. At your size, the time that journey would take would be immense. And in this new place, you’d have to figure out your way around. Something that would be easy as a regular sized person.

At your tiny size, it could add days, weeks, or even longer, if you have to figure out which way is out. All of this time would be added, to the long voyage necessary to escape, once you did know the way out. And this is all assumes you could somehow escape the glass jar you’re in. You’d need as much time as possible, to prevent Megan from finding and catching you again. Or for her roommate to catch you. For all you know, she’s in on all this. And if she’s not, she’d probably end up eating or squishing you, on accident.

You feel Will groggily get up.

Looking around he says, “fuck, this wasn’t a nightmare?”

You look back at him and don’t know what to say. He said there’s no reason to be sorry, but you still feel guilty. You wish you could tell him it was a nightmare. That the place you were was some kind of amusement park or something. One designed to look like your ex-girlfriend’s, messy room.

“Where is she?” Will asks.

 “I don’t know.”

“The lights are on, she’ll probably be back soon,” Will posits.

“Nah, Megan always forgets to turn the lights off, when she leaves a room. She could be in the bathroom, she could be at work or on a long weekend. There’s no way of knowing how soon she’ll be back,” you explain.

The two of you spend the next several hours talking. Each of you is trying to distract the other, more than anything else. Your conversation is mostly spent discussing who would win, in battles between different sci-fi, fantasy, comic book and cartoon characters. Neither one of you really wants to talk about your predicament.

Every now and again one of you says something like, “we could try and use what little weight we have, to tip the jar over.”

To which the other says, “but if it breaks, the glass shards could kill us at this size.”

At one-point Will asks, “do you think she could just…let us go?”

After a long silence from you, he says, “yeah, that’s probably off the table.”

Eventually, you hear the booming steps and feel the earthquake of Megan’s return. You hear her the CLICK of her unlocking the bedroom door. Megan is in white, grease-stained shorts and her red and white Five Guys work t-shirt. She sets her purse down on her desk, adding to the BOOMs. She takes her desk chair and moves the dirty clothes on it, to the floor. Megan disrobes, throwing more clothes onto the pile.

“Ugh, what a day.”

She takes three jars out of her collection, and places them next to you. The first one, has two people in it, a man and a woman. They look like they could be another couple. Or perhaps they could just be two strangers forced into familiarity. Either way, Megan casually and quickly pops them in her mouth and swallows them, like nothing. She grabs the two other jars and BOOMS back to her desk.

Holding one of them up to her face she says, “Marcy at work is a vegan and super annoying about it. It’s like, ‘bitch, then why do you work here?’ I think I’ll add you to her veggie sandwich, tomorrow,” a smug grin forms on a Megan’s face and she says, “don’t worry, she won’t know. But I will.”

She kisses the jar, then puts it in her purse. Opening the other one, she pinches up the three tinies inside. Two men with dad-bods, and one skinny woman. With one hand, Megan spreads her thick, ass cheeks. You watch in horror, gripping Will’s hand tight, as the two of them are shoved in Megan’s ass. The other tries to escape, by climbing up her arm.

“Oh, you don’t want to be in my ass? I understand.”

Megan pinches the tiny woman on her arm and drops her on the desk chair. BAM! Megan sits on the chair and a big grin forms on her face.

“There. Now you can be on my ass. Hahahaha.”

Her laughter is cruel and booming. It physically hurts to hear and the sight is emotionally devastating. All she did was sit down. But, the tremendous power of her body, was enough to destroy this being. Not to mention the squeezing, slimy agony the inside of her ass must be subjecting the other tinies to. Megan grabs her dildo out of a drawer in her nightstand, and places it next to her bed. She flounces over to your jar.

Megan turns the jar upside down and pours you and Will into her warm, sweaty hand. After a few bouncy steps, she plops down on her bed. The jiggling of her mountainous body is hypnotic. You watch her enormous hand grab the dildo. Following its journey with your eyes, you see it disappear between her legs.

“Now I’d hate to break you up,” Megan thunders, in a cooing tone, “but there’s two of you and two of these,” she gestures to her nipples.

You and Will are each dropped on a separate nipple. You are on the left and he is on the right. Starring out across the valley of Megan’s cleavage, you see her right nipple, where Will is stranded, is just as hard as her left one.

“The two of you are the perfect size for this. My nipples are your task tonight. You can hump them, squeeze them, mmhhMmmhMm fuck,” you hear the wet slapping of her dildo getting faster, “you can run in circles around my areolas, for all I care. But you will service them!”

You notice there is no, “or else” at the end of her diatribe, none is needed. Atop her nipple, you are surrounded by pinkness and power. You rub your naked body, against her ever-hardening nipples. The skin is soft and warm. Very different from the cold, piercing feeling of dread you have. Not just for yourself, but for Will. You are now well-versed, in how Megan treats tiny people, such as yourselves.

And you could not resist her. Even if you tried, the power contained in her goddess, mountain of a body, is so far beyond your own. If she wanted to eat you or squish you between the glorious mountains you find yourself on, that’s what would happen.

You feel the vibrations of her stomach as a “GrrhHgkkHhgHhkH,” emanating upward from it. Tears drip down your face. The terror produced by this sound, a simple rumbling in her stomach, has caused you to weep. Perhaps you’ve been weeping this whole time, and only just now noticed it. That’s something you’d easily believe. Your tiny tears, dribble down onto her hard, warm nipple. Nothing pink has ever seemed this scary.

Will has taken her, “run laps around my areola,” suggestion to heart. The two of you make eye contact. There is a spark of support, sadness and desperation, all conveyed in a simple look you exchange. The moment ends when the vigor of her masturbation, jostles Megan’s mountainous tit. This causes Will to face plant into her nipple. You stop your gyrating and look over to him in concern.

“Hey! No breaks. Back to work!”

Even without the thunderous booming and echoing quality of Megan’s voice, this order would still be commanding and fierce. You and Will both do as you’re told. Megan’s heart rate, continues to increase. It pounds upward, sending vibrations to the tits and nipples you’ve been tasked with pleasing.

“MnnHnnn,” Megan moans.

  It’s a sound you once enjoyed. Even took some pride in the times, when you elicited it from her. As her partner, her moans were something that filled you with arousal and joy.

“Ahhh Ah aaaHHhhh!”

Now it is a terrifying, ear and soul-shattering sound.

“OooHhoo fuuuckkk!”

 It’s like the roar of an erupting volcano, but worse. A volcano is destructive, but it holds no malice for you. The hell it creates is not meant to please itself. To be a shrunken person in Megan’s possession, is to be a prisoner in a universe, run by a cruel goddess.

“Fu..Fuuu…AhhaaAAh..fuck!” Megan moans louder than ever, as she climaxes.

When she removes her dildo, she lets it glide over her boobs, her vaginal fluid dripping off in thick glops. You and Will each get your share, before she places it back on her nightstand. The warm, viscous fluid gets in your nose. The fishy, sweaty smell of Megan’s pussy, is overwhelming. You dry heave for a moment, as you hear her heart rate slow down. She catches her breath and you do the same. Her sweat slides down to you, adding another violating layer of fluid, over your skin.

 After a short while, her fingers, thick as redwoods, loom down and snatch you up. The pressure dissipates for a moment as she pinches up Will. The pressure returns, as you and Will are squeezed together in her fingers. PLINK. PLINK. You’re dropped back in the jar, one at a time. Both of you embrace each other. The two of you each act as a shoulder for the other one to cry on. You wonder if this really is your life now?

Megan turns out the light and curls up in bed. You and Will are both exhausted, from this ordeal. Both of you sleep very deeply, for a very long time. You spend the next day pacing around the jar. A part of you wants Megan to return, so you can be done with today’s torture. But whenever you think of her, all the memories of her grumbling stomach, and the people she’s banished to it, return.

As it turns out, Megan’s predilections are not your problem the next night. Or the night after. But both nights, you have to suffer through the horrors of her approaching the bookcase. The fear, as she selects the jars, which each of her victims. And whether they are swallowed, inserted or tortured in some other way, you know it will be your turn again. The sight of their misfortune is terrifying and emotionally devastating. And the waiting is a torture of its own...