When Paul was first shrunk to one-sixteenth size he looked up into the vast space of the shrinking booth, the size of a fifteen-story building, with a look of fear on his face. Paul had not fought in any wars when he was in the military, but he was well trained for one and he was using all his training to keep calm and alert in this state. But the military never trained you for this: being completely helpless, smaller than someone’s hand.

Nothing happened for a little while. He wondered who would come for him. Maybe it would be Sherri; she was now as tall to him as Betty had been a moment before. But Betty…Paul tried to imagine how big she was right now but couldn’t grasp it. The thought frightened him so he didn’t think about it any more.

There was a sound and the door swung open. The sight that Paul saw overwhelmed his imagination and frightened him to the core. Betty was there, tall as a skyscraper, looking down on him from an extreme height. Her feet were the size of limousines. Out of them came legs that were wider than he was tall. They raised powerfully in the air higher than the tallest buildings in most smaller towns. They supported her waste, itself the size of a house, and out of it grew Betty’s exposed middle, which was the size of a suburban yard. Above that were her breasts, the size of cars, hanging inside her tiny shirt. Above that was her face, vaster than any face he could imagine with eyes the size of his head and a mouth that could easily admit him.

“Hi there, Paul,” Betty said. She spoke softly but the vocal chords creating them were so massive that they filled him. “You’re tiny, aren’t you?”

Paul could not say anything. He could only stare at the giantess.

With a slow deliberate movement like a mountian shifting, Betty kneeled over to pick him up.Her arm was the size of a trailer, and her hand was far bigger than Paul. He wanted to move but could do nothing as the massive hand curled around him with fingers that were nearly as big as he was with little finger muscles that were bigger than the biggest muscles in Paul’s leg.

Betty lifted Paul off the ground, very high off the ground in fact. He almost got vertigo looking at the sheer distance and not daring to believe a single person could be taller than this. Betty held Paul about a foot from her face. It filled his entire vision now and seemed larger than ever.

“You’re such a darling, Paul,” Betty said in that powerful soft voice. “I knew you would be the first one to go. It was inevitable.”

Paul was confused and worried. He was eliminated and he was off the cameras. Presumably he would not be sent home—the eliminated contestants from the last show appeared again in the un-elimination round and again at the end. So he was sticking around, and Betty had complete control over him. He knew nothing good was going to happen.

Betty opened her hand and Paul found himself sitting on her open palm several dozen relative feet off the ground. This was nothing to worry about; he had had training with heights in the navy. He had even jumped off helicopters! But there was something about being in a giant woman’s hand, which was moving slightly with the muscles and blood inside it, that was far different and far more frigthening.

Betty started tipping her hand to the left. Paul sat still for a moment, but the hand continued slipping until it became more verticle and horisontal. Paul started sliding and leaped into action. He flung himself on the hand, grasping onto the edge of Betty’s index finger as the hand went totally vertical. Betty stopped the rotation as Paul hung there, trying not to look down at the ground.

With a smile, Betty continued rotating the hand. Paul hooked his feet to the other side of Betty’s hand and tried to stay balanced, but the rotation was getting too seveer. Quickly, while he had time, Paul climbed over Betty’s index finger onto the back of her hand, stumbelling and causing him to hit his head on the knuckle of Betty’s middle finger. He then straightened himself out as Betty’s hand became vertical again.

“You’re so cute,” Betty said. “I’m glad I got you.” She pointed the index finger from her other hand and pressed it onto Paul’s butt, pinning him to her hand so he couldn’t move.

Is this what she’s going to do, play with me? Paul asked wildly. He had been many things in his life, but he never imagined himself as a toy that could easily be manipulated by one finger and have nothing to do with it.

Abruptly, Betty blew across her hand in a sudden and fast gust. It would have been enough wind to throw Paul completely off her hand if he hadn’t have been pinned down, and he squirmed instinctively. Betty chuckled.

“We’re going to have fun tonight.” She said. Betty turned her hand over so Paul fell into the palm of her other hand. Paul was filled with bewilderment as he looked up into Betty’s face. A second later there was a rhythmic movement: she had started to walk. Where could Betty be taking him? Maybe to a holding cage, where he would wait until it was time for the end of the show—but he couldn’t be that hopeful. He had a sneeking suspicion that he would be staying with Betty at least for the time being.

Betty walked up a flight of stairs to the second floor. She walked a short way down the hallway and opened a door to the bedroom. Was she taking him to her own private bedroom? The room had clothes scattered on the floor, a dresser, a desk, and a bed the size of a football field.

“Here we go.” Betty said. To Paul’s horror, Betty reached her other hand down into her pants and a second later extracted a naked man his own size completely covered in Betty’s vaginal juices. Paul was horified and bewildered; this man wasn’t one of the contestants, but he was strangely familiar.

“I’ll leave you here for Sherri,” Betty said. Opening the top dresser drawer in which there appeared to be a very spartan apartment scaled to his size. As Betty was putting the man in the drawer, Paul could swear the man met his eyes and mouthed “Good luck” to him.

Betty shut the drawer trapping the man inside. She then made her way out of the room and Paul understood that this was Sherri’s room, not Betty’s.

“That’s Tom, from the first season,” Betty said. “We like to keep him around here. Sherri and I share him.”

Recognition hit Paul like a ton of bricks. Of course, this was the same Tom, the man who had been eliminated first last season. But he was filled with a horrible feeling…had Tom really been here a whole year as a slave to Betty and Sherri’s sexual desires? Was he, Paul, going to be trapped here, never allowed to leave?

Betty walked further down the hallway until they reached another door. This one was locked, so Betty had to reach into her pocket for a key. Paul knew what this was: this had to be Betty’s room. This was the point of no return.

The door opened, and the room that met Paul’s eyes was much more lavish than Sherri’s. There were three rooms; a fully operational kitchen, a living room complete with big-screen TV and a sound system, and a bedroom with a soft bed covered in pillows and light fixtures that allowed moody lighting. The studio really spared no expense with Betty. This seemed to further Jerry’s theory that Betty was very important in the company and not merely a host.

“Do you like it?” Betty asked. “I sure do.” Paul continued to say nothing. He hadn’t said anything since he had been shrunk, and he was content to go on keeping his mouth shut for as long as possible.

Betty placed him down on the countertop, putting him level with her stomach. Paul instinctively backed away from the edge. Betty continued to smile down at him, causing him to feel an even greater sense of dread.

“What branch of the military were you in?” Betty asked. “Speek, boy!”

“Navy, ma’am,” Paul said, throwing in the ma’am automatically. Betty unzipped and reached into a small bag she had there and to Paul’s surprise pulled out a complete navy uniform looking as if had been freshly pressed at the cleaners.

“Put this on,” Betty said, laying it out in front of Paul. Paul stared at it and up at Betty, who just smiled down at him. Apparently she expected him to change clothes right under her gaze. Knowing that this would likely be the least of this evening’s embarassments, Paul stripped down to his boxers and started putting on the uniform; socks, trousers, shirt, books, jacket, and hat all went on. It was a size or so too big, but otherwise felt comfertable and familiar. In any other circumstance this uniform would make him feel empowered and strong, but being small enough to be swallowed by this woman in one gulp kept him feeling very small.

“Dashing,” Said Betty. “Turn to the side, would you?” Paul turned to the side, making an effort to be rigid and militaristic. The suit helped, and it helped calm his nerves. “The other side.” Betty said, and Paul did an about face.

“You’re really darling.” Betty said. “Like my own toy soldier. Now march up and down this countertop for me, tut tut!”

Paul did as he was told. He marched back in forth, feeling very much like he was back in basic camp being singled out at random to march in front of the group. He had always been told that he was an exemplerary soldier. Now he was an exemplerary toy soldier.

“Very nice,” Betty said, “I’ve always liked a nice military man.” Betty reached and plucked Paul off the table in mid-stride. She held him and flipped him over a few times as if inspecting him. Of course, her handling of him had left his uniform so ruffled it would have never passed a real inspection.

“A lot of old movies show sailors fighting off great monsters,” Betty said, as she carried Paul into her bedroom, “But I bet those monsters were never like what you’re about to face.”

Betty placed Paul on top of the dresser, which was slightly higher than the countertop had been. Betty stood about a foot away from the dresser and started reaching for something behind her back. Paul knew what she was doing instantly. Betty grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled it up over her head. A bra the size of two large industrial-strength hammocks was all that was holding up Betty’s breasts. She reached behind her back again and undid the bra, letting her boobs hang freely.

Paul could not believe the size of them. If they had been hollow he could have fit inside one without even having to curl up. They were great hill-like mounds on Betty’s vast white chest.

“Like them, don’t you?” Betty said, moving them around with her hands playfully. “Many have.”

Paul stood and stared, but Betty wasn’t done stripping. Betty reached down to her pants and undid the button. Putting her hands in the front and the back she pushed her pants and underpants completely off and stepped out of them. Here was the real monster. Her vagina was there, far larger than him, listening with juice and giving off an almost overpowering scent.

“This monster has swallowed braver men than you.” Betty said, teaingly. “Do you think you can survive?”

Paul had no response. If Betty’s eventual goal was to get him inside there then there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

“Come over here,” Betty said, once again reaching over to pick him up. Betty walked across to the bed and laid across it, a small mountian of pillows supporting her back so her upper half was inclined.

Betty held Paul near her face looking at him. “Look at me,” Betty said. “Quite a view, isn’t it?”

Betty turned Paul so that he could look down her body. Indeed it was an impressive sight. Betty was an extremely attractive woman at any size. At this scale it was just overwhelming. It seemed like her feet were miles away, that the curves of her breasts, hips, and legs were the features of rolling hills rather than an actual woman’s body.

Betty lowered Paul down and placed him on the top of her chest above her breasts. It was rough here; Paul could feel one of Betty’s upper ribs, as thick of a pipe, under his booted feet.

“Now start marching again.” Betty said. Paul marched, going back and forth across Betty’s chest. Her skin moved a little under his feet but he had marched on looser ground before. Betty watched Paul go back and forth. He could only go about six steps in either direction before he had to turn around, but Betty seemed to be enjoying it.

“Halt. Good, soldier.” Betty said. “Now I want you to go and rest on one of my boobs, back up. Go on, you pick.”

Paul hesitated, then obeyed. He scooted down the valley between Betty’s breasts, then chose the left one to lay on. He bent forward and put his arms across it. Even through his uniform he could sense that the breast was very soft and warm. It sunk just a little bit under his miniscule weight.

“Too bad there aren’t any cameras in here,” Betty said. “This would make a hell of a photograph. Kind of show a contrast, military uniform and female skin.”

Paul dearly hoped that Betty was being honest. Being on the shrinking show was bad enough, but having everyone he knew see him as a toy soldier would be absolutely horrifying.”

“Well Paul,” Betty said. “I think it’s time for you go face the monster.” Paul slowly straightened himself up. There was nothing else about it. Betty was going to put him in her vagina. Figuring she’d probably ask him to strip, he started to undo his jacket.

“No no,” Betty said, stopping him. “I want that uniform good and soiled in my juices.”

Paul stopped undoing his jacket and refastened the part he already undid. Why she wanted him to go in there fully clothed was anyone’s guess. Perhaps the uniform was part of his appeal; who knew with this crazy woman?

“Now I want you to act like you’re under enemy fire,” Betty said. “Get down and crawl across the plain, through the bush,” She smiled at her pun, “and face the monster.”

Thinking that this was the most bizzare thing he ever did, Paul dropped down and crawled across Betty’s stomach to her groin. He had been trained to fight in many kinds of terrain but never this. With each inch that he moved the smell of Betty’s vagina grew stronger and stronger until it was nearly hard to breathe. He moved over her belly button and soon was moving through her bush. The hairs were not very long but he still got snagged on a few of them, but he fought his way through. The mound of Betty’s clitorus was straight ahead. He slowed down; he really didn’t want to go on.

“Come on, in you go,” Betty said. He felt her finger on his butt again, this time it was pushing him forward. She slid him onto the surface of her moist lips. Almost instantly the juices started flowing through the fabric of Paul’s garments and he felt them sticking to his skin. Betty spread her monstrous legs, causing the outer parts of her lips to stretch. She put her whole hand on top of Paul and pressed him in. The lips were all around him, moisture was coming at him from all sides.

“Oh yes,” Betty said as she started sliding Paul back and forward. The coarsness of the fabric excited and aroused her, and she continued to excrete all over Paul. By now all of his clothing was entirely saturated with the liquid. He had already lost his hat. She flipped him over, rubbing him face up, then on his sides. Paul gasped for air at any chance he could get, and each gasp was met with a rush of the liquid into his mouth.

After a couple of minutes Betty pulled Paul out and layed him on her public bone. He gasped for air, spitting out the strongly scented liquid. His uniform felt twenty pounds heavier with all the juice it had absorbed; it was much thicker than water or sweat and he didn’t think the smell could ever come off.

“I think the monster won that battle; she marked you with her scent,” Betty said. “Now she must claim final victory—take off your clothes and be prepared to be swallowed whole!”

This was it, he was going to be put inside her, reduced to nothing more than a human dildo. He took off his soiled clothes, which was much harder now that they stuck to his body. He took off his jacket, shirt, boots, and trousers. Even his underpants were completely soaked through. He was now naked and feeling very vaunerable. Betty was looking down, peering at his tiny anatomy and apparently pleased with what she saw.

“Now it’s time.” Betty said. Paul’s body sprung with sensation as Betty picked him up by her thumb and index finger. Paul wondered which end of him Betty was going to insert first, and he was relieved to find that she was positioning his feet to make the first plunge.

He felt the sides of Betty’s labia on his bare feet, and then unmistakibly they had been worked into a hole. Paul felt as the vagina swallowed up his legs, his waste, his torso, and finally his head. His arms were over his head but they were soon swallowed up as well.

The pressure was immense; Paul was being squeezed from both sides. The walls of Betty’s vagina were soft, though, and extremely wet, so it wasn’t actually painful. Paul couldn’t even keep track of all the sensations he was feeling and everything he was hearing. He felt Betty’s fingers find him and soon felt himself being dragged up and down, up and down, up and down.

The motion became faster and more vigerous. With each upthrust Paul’s head came clear of Betty’s vagina, and he tried to get a breath of air each time this happened. The movements became yet faster, the pressure stronger. Paul didn’t know how much of this he could take. Then finally Betty came. It was like an earthquake. The motion stopped and Paul felt the biggest squeese yet. Then, relaxation.

Paul grabbed onto the outside of Betty’s lips and pulled himself out of her vagina, which was easy considering the level of lubrication. He pulled himself across her labia and back into her bush, gasping for air.

“That was great, little man,” Betty said, gently lifting Paul off her crotch. Every square inch of his body was soping wet and he was exausted. “Lie here,” Betty said, placing Paul on her right breast. The soft warm flesh felt amazing under his worn body, and he soon found himself curling up. Sleep was overtaking him. Betty put her hand gently over him, creating a cuccoon of warmpth.

“Sweet dreams,” Betty said, and turned out the light.