It took him three months of building on all his previous failed attempts since age 12, but he finally perfected a machine that would both reduce him in size and teleport him to another location, which he could find by setting coordinates on a viewer. The controls were built down low, so that he could reach them at tiny size. He also built a homing ring which he wore unnoticeably on his finger. Turning it would enable him to send a homing recall signal to the machine. When Ingrid had seen him and scorned his tiny size, he could return to his machine and restore his size. At least he would have the pleasure of looking up to her as a giantess, the largest giantess and the most beautiful and the most mischievous and haughty.

Percy waited for a day when he got home from school early, and then sent himself into the outer gardens of Ingrid’s school at tiny size. He waited in concealment, until he saw Ingrid approaching. She looked so big now, that he had to look up and up to see her. Her dark hair was in a long ponytail. Her lower lip now looked as deep as his tiny face. Her neck would have been about two or three times his height. Even her legs looked like giants themselves to him. He had no idea what he would do, but he was aroused incredibly. 

He let her see him. There were no other girls around at the moment. This was no dream, no imagined fantasy. He had finally managed to shrink himself, and Ingrid was really looking down at him. If nothing else, she could not dismiss his shrinking itself as an impossible fantasy. He stood still as she walked over and leaned down, enclosed him in her fingers and stood up. The feel of her hand was pleasant and stimulating too.

“I don’t know where you came from, but I’m a lot bigger than you are,” she said with the same mocking haughty attitude that he knew so well, “I think we’ll find a private place to talk.”

She went and sat on the lawn at the highest point of the school gardens, close to the street. At last it was just him and her. He had come to the one place that even her boyfriend was not allowed to enter: an all girls school, and at tiny size too.

“So what are you, little one?” she asked.

“How do you mean?” asked Percy.

“I mean what sort of little folk are you a member of? I’ve never met any of your kind before.”

Percy was over the moon. She was talking to him without any recognition. She had hated and scorned the Percy she knew, and at best given him a brief passing compliment on that evening a few months ago. Yet she saw his shrunken self as a different person, someone she had never met, and apparently someone she WAS interested in. He might at least be able to hope for a giant kiss from her.

“I’m just a little boy,” he said.

“Well I’m a big girl,” said Ingrid, “And if I like the taste of you, I’m going to take you home secretly and have you for a special treat in my bedroom late tonight.”

She had said, ‘have you for a special treat.’ Those words did not guarantee an intention of Ingrid’s to eat him, but the phrase ‘if I like the taste of you’ increased the likelihood to around 90 per cent. She might have merely been thinking of licking him for half the night, which would be awe inspiring in itself, but he had to know if he had guessed right.

“Do you mean…?” he asked.

“You know I do,” she teased, arousing him beyond belief, “If you pass the tongue test, you’re going to be eaten whole. You’ll still be getting over the gulping and swallowing, when you’re almost down to my stomach.”

Percy remembered the way she had first helped herself to his lollies with mocking amusement. Now she was doing the same thing to a tiny boy, not knowing it was the owner of those very lollies. How he hoped that he did taste appealing to her tongue, which was clearer than ever to him now that she was holding him close to her face while talking to his tiny self. He could see glimpses of the most magnificent taste organ in history, as she continued speaking.

“Can we find out how I taste quickly then?” he asked.

“I imagine you’re even keener than me to find out,” she said, “Though I doubt you’re hoping for the same test result that I am.”

She would lose that bet, he thought. In any event, the test would give him at least one chance to be touched by her huge tongue.

“What will you do with me if I don’t taste nice?” he asked.

“You’d make a cute pet,” she said, “But let’s not think of that. It only takes a lick to find out, doesn’t it?”

With those wonderful words, Ingrid’s tongue took a respite from speaking and came out of her mouth slowly in front of him. She was deliberately doing it in slow motion, to draw out the suspense of the taste test. He was able to look at a protrusion which was longer and wider than his entire body. It had two sides, but no apparent separation in the middle, just a slight dip where the two sides met. The moist fleshy sparkling appearance of her tongue was the most beautiful thrilling sight he had ever laid eyes on. In mere seconds he would actually feel the touch of it.

She moved him closer and slid her tongue over him. It felt every bit as nice as he’d hoped and more so, particularly as its soft moist taste buds ran over his facial cheeks. Then her tongue retreated back into her mouth. He looked at her eyes and lips for any clue as to her assessment of him.

“What’s the verdict?” he asked.

“I’ll keep you guessing for a while,” she said.

Ingrid put him into her shirt pocket, under her jumper, got up and started walking to the station. She caught a train to Wahroonga, while he lifted himself a little and peeked out between the fibres of her woollen jumper at the scenery outside, and at Ingrid’s long lovely hands resting in her lap.

She alighted at Wahroonga, walked into the park, and sat down in an isolated part and took him from her pocket. She lifted him above her head, tilted it back, and opened her mouth wide and let him look in. He heard soft laughter and looked in at her laughing tongue. It was amazing.

Ingrid lowered him into her mouth a little, so that just his face touched her tongue, and then took him out.

“I did say supper, remember?” she said, “But at least you know I liked you. You’re the most delicious piece of meat I’ve ever tasted in my life. I’m going to gobble you all up at supper time and there’s nothing you can do about it. You can think about that for the next few hours.”

“I will,” he said politely, and then hoped he hadn’t given away his keenness to face the fate that she had planned for him.

“I’m glad to see that you’re nervous enough to point out the obvious,” she laughed, and put him back in her pocket.

Ingrid walked home and took him into her bedroom, unnoticed by her mother.

She let him watch her while she did her homework, and then placed him into a drawer.

“You can stay here, while I have dinner,” she said, “And think about the fact that I won’t enjoy it nearly as much as eating you.”

She closed the drawer and left him in darkness. He lay down on a folded item of clothing and waited for her return after dinner. He thought how pleasantly surprised he was. None of the girls who liked him in his earlier childhood years had had any real interest in eating him outside of his own dreams. Of all the people to be willing to do exactly what he wanted, it was the one girl who had openly disliked him at his full size. Ingrid was going to give him exactly what he’d always wanted, and was doing it with a forceful merciless amusement that made it all the more enjoyable and arousing. This was beyond his wildest hopes. He realised that being eaten in itself would have been thrilling enough, but Ingrid’s taunting enactment made it so much better. She was the one he had waited for all these years, since his six year old self had first dreamt of being eaten ten years ago. He admired what she was doing to him.

Ingrid opened the drawer and he saw that she had changed into a long night gown. She lifted him out of the drawer, put him on the pillow and climbed into bed beside him, with only the bright bedside table reading lamp illuminating them both.

“I’m going to sleep for a while. You can’t get away, so just make yourself comfortable,” she said.

“Could I climb onto your face?” he asked, “It … looks nice and soft.”

“If you like,” said Ingrid.

He climbed onto her chin, and said, “This is a bit hard, because of the bone,” shifted to her cheek, and said, “I might fall off here,” and then having intentionally established reasons for not being able to lie on the other parts of her face, he climbed onto her lower lip, which was roughly the width of his body’s length. 

“Are you comfortable now?” she sighed, moving the very lip he was resting on.

“This is just like a mattress to me,” he said, although it was not as deep as the width of his body.

Percy lay down and enjoyed the feel of her lower lip. It was like a permanent giant kiss, and he had tricked her into having no objection to it. Even her boyfriend would not have these experiences.

Ingrid dozed off and he soon felt her lips rising and falling as she breathed in her sleep. He enjoyed that for three hours, and then she stirred and awoke. Her hand lifted him off her lip and she sat up and yawned right in front of him, giving him another fine view of her mouth.

“Is that reading lamp bright enough for you, or do you want me to turn the bedroom light on?” she asked, “I want you to be able to see where you’re going.”

The audacity of the question was yet another of Ingrid’s thrilling taunts.

“It’s good enough for me,” he said.

“Thank you. I’m flattered,” she laughed, and he realised that she was making a pun on the thought of the experience of being eaten being good for him.

“You’ve really got an awesome sense of humour,” he said.

“Well you must have noticed that I’m beautiful,” she said.

“Yes, very,” said Percy.

“Maybe it will be good for you too,” she said, “But not as good as it will be for me.”

She had no idea. It would almost be worth telling her everything, or at least his identity, but he wanted to take no chances on anything changing her mind.

“I like your lips,” he said.

“I noticed,” she said, “You could have slept on my pillow.”

“You don’t mind?”

“If I did, I would have had no trouble stopping you… And I will have no trouble stopping you from ever going on a date with anyone. I’ll have the chance to go on and have a lengthy happy life, and you are going into my tummy … right now. Farewell, little boy.”

With those strangely stimulating ramifications still in his mind, he watched her tongue come out and lick him again and again. Being played with like a morsel of food by her beautiful mouth, without her having a care in the world was an experience that trivialised anything that had happened or not happened with Miss Newkin, Ilona, Ingrid Castlecove and the Wanderer Woman of Wahroonga.

“Well I’m ready to send you on your way,” she said at last, “But at the moment you’ll only taste of my own tongue water.”

She rubbed him on her bare shoulder a few times, and then reached for a cloth to wipe it. Then she opened her mouth wide in front of him. He looked inside in eager expectation. He could see into the top of a throat which would have no trouble gulping his tiny body down.

“Here comes the aeroplane,” she mused, and opened wide again and slid him onto her tongue.

He loved the combination of horizontal comfort and moist stimulation as he lay there for several minutes, until she suddenly angled her tongue. Within seconds he felt himself sliding into her throat. He could feel her throat all around him. This too was pleasant, but the blood was beginning to rush to his head.

Ingrid relieved his concern, by gulping several times, and he soon found himself in the dark tunnel of flesh that would curve its way down to her stomach. Then something occurred to him.

So intent on his fantasy was he, so pleasantly surprised at Ingrid’s willingness to fulfil it without even knowing it was he, that he had not even considered what would follow. Ingrid’s plan had been to digest him, which would have involved a lot of tingles, and then the absence of dating and other pleasures of life, just as she had detailed. 

Yet now his fantasy had been realised, and he could go on to enjoy those other things. Percy suddenly realised the obvious fact that his homing ring would be able to send him out of her stomach and back to his own home, without Ingrid even knowing. She would go the rest of her life thinking that she had eaten a mysterious tiny boy. Even if he met her again at his full size, she would not know him as the boy that she had eaten alive.

Yet he didn’t need to do it yet. He hadn’t reached the area of her stomach acids. He could enjoy just lying inside her for a while, celebrating the accomplishment of something that her boyfriend had no desire to emulate, nor any ability to prevent. He expected she would not even tell him about it. After some time, Percy twisted the ring and returned to the shrinking machine and then to full size.

He spent some days happily recalling the fact that he’d had the chance to be the cake and be eaten. He could go on, but with one drawback: it would not be with Ingrid. She still preferred the vandal to his full sized self, and he could not approach her at tiny size again without giving away the fact that she had not really eaten him. Ingrid had gratified his greatest urge, and he did not want to take away the fact that she might well (for all he knew) have gratified her own too. He would let her think she’d added him permanently to her stomach.