The 36 year old business oriented mother of three was banging on the door to your apartment.
You've had a habit of not paying rent quite on time, but this time it was out of your hands entirely.
It was three days ago when you've began to feel seriously ill and passed out. Before you knew it, you became the size of a bug. Since then, you've managed to climb onto the kitchen room table, and you're currently stuffing yourself with crumbs of cereal after not eating in so long.
The thunderous banging of the enraged landlady was like thunder.
"I know you're in there!" Her annoying shrill voice was like a stadium speaker.
The banging soon stopped and gave way to the fidgeting of keys, and right after to the sound of an opening door.
Her elephantine stomps made her very aparant she walked through the cramped apartment.
"Where's the fucking rent money?" She asked, in a manner befitting of a massive bitch.
Eventually she made her way to the kitchen, murmuring and cussing under her breath.
She was always, figuratively, a massive bitch, but now 'massive' doesn't cut it. She's colossal.
You stare upwards, in awe. She's wearing her office attire, which hugs her motherly frame. Her shirt strains to cover her back-breakingly large breasts, and her somewhat disdented abdomen.
A black skirt adorns her wide, child bearing hips, and nylons cover her thick meaty thighs. She must've come here right after work.
You were supposed to pay rent on sunday - yesterday, and that was already after putting off for a week.
You start waving your arms and yelling, but this isn't enough to get your landlady's attention.
As she paces around the room, she takes out her phone and starts a call.
As she does this she turns around, giving you perhaps the best view of her ass you've had yet. The firm glutes are like planets, the skirt cannot cloak their shape.
This becomes all the more evident as she leans on the table, plopping her butt down and causing a minor earthquake. Nothing is left to imagination as the fabric ventures between her cheeks.
"Don't you fucking dare not pick up!" She says out loud.
*ring* *ring* *ring*
Your ringtone can be heard from the bedroom, and she sighs, lifting her butt again causing another tremor.
As she turns around to exit, you see a face with the expression of pure annoyance. You can't say you didn't deride any satisfaction from it, despite this situation.

This time the stomping of her heels is even louder, and you can accurately visualise her heading into your bedroom and then back.
She returns carrying your phone, wallet and car keys.
Placing them on the table, she takes one of the chairs to take a seat by the table. With an ass like that she should've brought two.
Once she was sitting, her irritated face sprawled up directly above your bowl.
You once again try getting her attention, but she wasn't the least bit interested, instead scouring through your nearly empty wallet.
"Fucker must've dipped to get out of paying. Fucking freeloader has another thing coming."
Her expression became crazed, which caused you to temporarily cease trying to get her attention. She can get rather nuts, and her face made you think your shrinkage might've not been a good enough excuse for her liking.

You hear some kind of noise, from beneath the table you find it hard to identifyi it. Not to worry, your bitchy landlady is here to explain. Placing her hand on her belly, she grumbles "I'm starving".
You hear the chair screeching, as she pushes it back and gets up to check your fridge.
You were going to go shopping shortly after the time you were shrunk, so it's all but empty except for some milk, which the giant takes out.

You can tell how serious the mess you're in has become, wasting no time you make you way to the edge of the bowl.
You can hear the vicious cow of a landlady walking, and then sitting back down on the chair.
Pulling the chair up along with her moon sized behind, she's finally seated and ready to pour in the milk, just as you're three quarters of the way to safety.
She wastes no time pouring the milk, much of it unfortunately falling on you directly, submerging you.
With some effort you break the surface of your breakfast, which by now has definitely switched its diners.
The first thing you see is a massive spoon heading right for you at a tremendous speed, there's simply no time to dodge.

You're picked up along with a spoonfull of flakes and brought up close to the unimaginably large face of the thirty something office lady.
"OVER HERE! STOP!"
You once again yell and wave your arms spastically, but your little dance is nothing compared to an angry landlady's craving.
Her mile-wide mouth spreads open, revealing the massive chamber behind.
She's always been petty and spiteful, but she couldn't eat you over rent, right?

The spoon is lowered into the mouth, her lips puckering around its neck. She gradually pulls it back out, causing the contents to spill out into her maw.

The inside of her mouth has that signature staleness you've gotten used to when she would yell at you about rent, just a million times worse.
You try to get your footing on the bumpy surface of her huge tongue, but you're continously knocked back down by its slightest movements.
"I'M IN YOUR MOUTH, HELP!"
Your squeaks were completely drowned out by the sound of the bitch chewing your cornflakes. With what little light enters her mouth, you're able to see her teeth amalgamate all the cereal into one cohesive yellow glob.
You try to run sideways, but the milk covered tongue does not give you good enough footing.
You're entirely helpless as the chewed up food barrels towards the back of your landlady's throat, and of course - you.
When the ball makes impact, it's like you're glued to it. Your landlady's spit sure makes for excelent adhesive.
You see the enterance to her gullet dilate, and you enter it along with the glob.
Since you're on the outside of the chewed up mass, you get to feel the slimy corridor as you're relocated to your landlady's gut. All around you you hear the sounds of her organism, her stuffing her face above, the mighty heartbeat that passes you by, and the churning of her stomach that dreadfully inches closer.
As was inevitable, you and the ball slide through her stomach's sphincter, which makes sure to give you the sloppiest and wettest hug of your life as it greets you in your new lifetime residence.
You're oozed out land in the stomach on the cereal you came with. The acids seem shallow, but you'd still much rather not get in contact with them.
What little air there is, is nearly unbreathable and makes her breath smell minty fresh in comparison.
More sludge is pushed out of the throat, so you jump off of your little island and onto a bit of dry stomach floor. You beign banging your fists against the thick wall of the foul sack-like organ with all your might. You scream for the woman to let you out.
This doesn't achieve much.

The woman, unaware of her little tenant and completely unbothered by your impotent thrashing, continutes eating your three day old cereal.
Still in a bad mood, she decides to phone an office friend, as she often does.
After explaining her predicament, she consults her on what to do next.
"You own the place. Stay over, keep him locked out. Mess with his things. Make sure he knows who runs things around here, and who he owes money to."

"You know what? I think you're right. Let's see how he likes it when I sell his junk in lieu of the rent. You're the greatest, see you tomorrow!"

*click*

Finishing her call and her meal, she heads to the living room. Rubbing her satisfyingly full belly.
"It's like an oven in here!" She opens the windows and begins undressing. Unbuttoning her shirt, her breasts literally spill out. Taking off her skirt too, she lays her sweaty, underwear clad body, on the couch, no doubt purposely leaving some ass and thigh shaped spots of sweat, which she took much pleasure in. Your couch, your problem.
She tries turning on the ceiling fan, but to her dismay it doesn't seem functional.
"Ugh, he had to break the fucking fan too?"

Meanwhile, the heat you had to deal with was a lot worse to say the last. You wish you could talk back to her, remind her that it didn't work when you moved in, and that you've asked her to fix it several times, only to be ignored.
But food doesn't talk, much less talk back.
Since she's no longer eating you decided that going back on the pile of cereal mush is a safer option than standing on the floor of her stomach. The acid levels have been rising ever since you got here, if you don't get spat out soon, you can expect to stick with the big bitch for the long haul, probably on her hips. The thought of becoming part of the person you dislike most invigorated you. You get up and begin assaulting the walls of your prison.

On the outside, you landlady decides to check your freezer for some ice. The refreshing cold, combined with what to her seemed like her tummy working diligently, made her feel the best she had felt all day. Looking through your stuff again, she managed to find some old cans of beer you thought you hid better. Jackpot! She goes back on the sofa while sipping your beer.
She turns on your TV on once again, and is "thrilled" to see that you're paying your netflix subscription on time, but not your rent. She logs onto your account and begins a marathon of binging some awful telenovela, forever ruining your sugestions.

But you have bigger things to worry about, for example: being turned into a nutricious soup by her gut.
Yet there was little you could do. Striking the walls was ineffective, the enterance to her throat, out of reach. But you had to try. As futile as it was, you were not willing to surrender yourself to this bitch's gluttony.

Soon, something new entered your new flat, a mouthful of beer. One after another. Mixxing in with the now soupy acid-cereal conction. The fumes this produces begin getting you drunk too.

As the hours passed, and the evening turned to night, having caught up with the series, and having drank enough beers to not be able to speak clearly, your landlady decides to call it a day. Burping, then peeling off her sweaty bra and panties, she lays down spread across your couch, enjoying the fresh cold night air in her body.

You on the other hand, are now too tired and drunk to be able to walk. Your island barely floating in your proprietress' belly, you lose all hope. You lay down, and resign yourself to being a tiny addition to this cows diet. Then it happens. The quiet burp of your land lady causes the island to flip over under your weight.
You instantly forget all your coping and switch to pure animal instinct, as the alcoholic-lactose-acid begins breaking you down, starting with your skin.
You fruitlessly claw at the island, only managing to to break it into tinier pieces.
The landlady's gut greedily sizzless off your skin, and starts working on extracting whatever miniscule amount of protein your muscles contain.
You're so much swimming, as you're flailing around in agony, soon enough your head is submerged by the waves your spastic movements have caused. Your hair slides off of your scalp, your eyes turn to jelly. Your cognitive functions cease all together, nothing but panic remains.
You try to gasp for air, only to have your throat filled with the bitches puke. You'd close your mouth, but your jaw is either no longer responsive or has melted off.

Boiling from inside and out, you finally perish. Your corpse sinking in the soupy vomit.

By the time the valve to her intestines opens, nothing remains of you other than your skeleton, and even it is more like gooified calcium than proper bone.
Your lifetime stay in the landlady's stomach having expired, her huge body begins its work on evicting you, but not before collecting on the payment she's owed.
Throughout the long road of both her intestines, much that was your body is absorbed. The fats, vitamins and proteins switch their owner. As a businesswoman, your landlady knew a lot about transactions. The correct word here would be "hostile takeover".
By the time what used to be you made it to the second half of the small intestine, you were only 20% of your original shrunken self. The rest was fully absorbed into the woman's bloodstream and awaited being dished out as needed.
The rest of what was you made it to the anus, and waited to be excreted.

The woman woke up much later than usual, at 2pm. She took the day off in advance, as she intended to use it on finalizing your eviction. She didn't know it, but her plan went off without a hitch.
Taking a long shower, she doused her body off of the sweat she's worked up yesterday and while she was sleeping in the morning. You've been made to pay for your debts by providing a bead of sweat all on your own, which amounted to about 30% of your nutrition. What a nice parting gift, if she knew maybe she'd think better of her tenant.
Your bead of sweat emerged just by the neck you've slid through, and went down accelerated by the stream of water. Going along her left tit all the way to her nip, before falling off, and down the drain.

As she stepped out of the shower, she could no longer ignore the pressure mounting up in her anus. She plopped her wide backside on the toilet, covering it very well.
The wrinkled hole widened and hurried the digested cereal (with a touch of you) along.
Your landlady was always good at multitasking, working both an office job and making passive income off of you. It's no suprise then, that she decided to waste no time and pissed as she shat.
Your bodily fluids, have been soaking in her bladder, along with yesterdays milk and the coffee she had earlier. They were all blasted out into the toilet.
After she was finished, she wiped both her holes dry, using your towel. But she decided not to brush, leaving you a nice suprise for when she thought you'd return.
As she brushed her teeth, strenghted ever so slightly by the calcium your bones provided, she admired herself in the mirror. For a working mom of three, she held up great. Your additions to her breasts, buttocks, thighs and her potbelly were too subtle to notice, despite the fact that 60% of all that you ever were was now part of her plump self.

After this she got dressed, she started auctions for your belongings, including your car. All together they amounted to way more than you've ever paid or owed her. Your wallet was also put to good use. Your card didn't have much on it, but the bossy bitch still found a use for it. She funded about seven of her morning coffees with it before discarding it in a public trash can. Call it a severance package, for being such a pain in the ass.

Soon enough, she found a new tenant, a nice college girl. She had the feeling she wouldn't be nearly as troublesome.
From then on, her life went on a much better course, what little of you remained was allowed to remain with her, rent free, as padding that swayed as walked.