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 “Ryan, you’re making me late again!” Liz yelled from the bottom of the stairs. flicking her dirty blonde hair back in a huff, her hands firmly on her hips. Dressed in jeans and a loose-fitting t-shirt, she had a backpack slung over her shoulder, weighing her down with her notebooks. Carrying slightly more weight than she’d like to, she filled out her top with breasts more fat than flesh, forming a balcony over the slight bulge of her abdomen. 

Plush lips pouted as her brother rushed down the stairs, sporting an unbuttoned shirt over a white top. The resemblance between the two was uncanny, with identical wavy hair that red the line between blonde and brown, muddy brown eyes and low-hanging cheeks that fit okay on Liz, but less on her lanky brother. With cheeks peppered with freckles and thin eye brows, they could have been twins, but Liz had had the fortune of being born a year earlier. 


“Took you long enough,” she mumbled as the two left the house, stepping into their mother’s BMW. Michelle Turner tapped impatiently on her steering wheel as she awaited her children. While she herself was often complaining that they were too old, at 16 and 17, to be getting lifts to school from their mom, there was no way she was going to buy them cars.


“You wouldn’t have to wait if I had my own car,” Liz said, noting her mother’s subtle sign of impatience.


“Hush. That’s not happening,” Ms. Turner said. Unlike most children, Ryan’s height had come from his mother, a towering 6-foot woman who took no nonsense. But unlike her son, Michelle was no beanstalk, carrying an impressive 126kg of weight on her body. She had the driver’s seat pushed almost all the way back as he body struggled to fit in the chassis of the vehicle, her thighs and buttocks filling all available space on the seat, “You can buy a car when you can afford it. It won’t be a hand out.” It was unfair to say that Michelle was mean, but when she divorced her husband, kept his name but went back to miss, it was as if she took his name as well as everything else. Mr. Turner hadn’t been to see his children since the day he left. 


She dropped Liz and Ryan at the high school gates and drove off without so much as a goodbye. They entered the school separately, each preferring not to be associated with the other. Ryan slunk off down the corridor towards his first class, as Liz met up with her entourage. 


“We were getting worried …” Laurie started, but was immediately cut off.

“I’m here aren't’ I? God,” Liz shot, walking past the other girl without a glance. Laurie was an inch shorter than Liz but weighed a little more. her milky white skin complemented her light brown hair, pale green eyes set on a round face that had never quite lost its baby fat. What Laurie lacked in conventional beauty, she made up for with a monstrously rotund ass, currently stuffed into a pair of bleached jeans. Still, and as Liz often pointed out, she didn’t have much going for her in the boob department. She had always secretly been proud of her above average bosom, but as Liz always reminded her, fat girl boobs don’t count


Choosing to ignore Liz’s remark, Laurie stepped in line behind her, entering the hallway behind her, followed close behind by Valerie. The taller, blonde girl said nothing, but this was normal in the group. She was the quiet  one, who was merely there to make up the numbers. The girls  went to their class together, moving as one, like always.




Ryan was day dreaming by the time the morning bell rung. He was tall for 16, with a little stubble on his chin was his most prominent sign of puberty, with the normal male characteristics of husky voice, muscles and BO left out of the equation. He wasn’t bad at school, but he never really stood out, coasting his way through classes with B- averages. Ryan had missed the grouping part of high school, and found himself petting through each day mostly by himself. Even in class, he tried to sit at the side of the room, keeping to himself. 




“Learn to hold the door! God!:” Liz yelled, slamming the door behind her as Ryan climbed the stairs to his room. A she watched him retreat, Liz huffed. Her day hadn’t gone as planned. First she had only gotten an A- on her history report, and that bitch Laurie was the one that beat her. Then her P.E. top hadn’t fit so she had to fake being sick to get out of it. She looked down at her breasts, which evidently had gotten larger since the New Year. Cursing her mother for her genes, Liz waltzed into the kitchen. 




Not really knowing why, Ryan was in bed before he knew why. He thought that the day had just taken more out of him than he thought. He didn’t feel well. He thought he was going to be sick and his body felt like it was burning. He launched himself off his bed as he felt the vomit rise. Where had this  feeling come from?  He felt his world spinning as he hobbled out of his room. He knocked on his sister’s door. There was no answer. There were only two bathrooms on the 1st floor, and both were ensuite connections to bedrooms. Ryan ran to his mother’s room and tried the door. She wasn’t home yet and the door didn’t give. He had to get downstairs. The 16-year-old thunder down the stairs in his haste.



“Are you going out?” Liz yelled from the kitchen upon hearing her brother’s charge down the stairs. She didn’t wait for a reply, already having made up her mind to rat him out to her mother. She tore open a pack of pop tarts and tossed them into the toaster. She leaned against the counter and took out her phone as she waited for the tarts. 




A distant bell roused Ryan from his sleep and a moment later the panic flooded back into him. I was  running. Why? Where was I going? He tried  his hardest to remember but was drawing a blank. He breathed in deep and tried to centre himself. Where am I? He remembered coming home from school so he had to be at home, logically. He looked around quickly but didn’t recognise where he was, although it seemed too empty to be his home. Where am I? The floor was an off-white collar and thick, allowing his feet to sink into the fibres that … Why am I naked?! 


Ryan’s hands shot instinctively to cover his privates and he suddenly felt very exposed. He began to shiver, partly from the chill that seemed to blowing across him from afar, and partly from  being so open, with no barrier to hide behind or protect him from the elements. He started to look up when he realised that he had been hunching over, the awkward stance  with which his body was so familiar, but he straightened up to see as much as he could and allow his head to face the sky, or rather in this case, the ceiling. 


While he couldn’t see a blue or even a grey sky where it  should have been, he could make out the definitive edges of a white plaster-coated ceiling, impossibly high above him. Rays of distorted sunlight cut the air as it penetrated the vast space through squares on one of the walls. Following this wall down, Ryan could make out a gap between its base and the ground, easily high enough for him to walk under, and from beyond this was a source of light too bright to keep watching. He turned.


The fluffy floor, looming walls and bizarre ceiling all added up to the same impossible conclusion; he was still at home. Just then the ground shook. Only slightly, but definitely enough for the vibrations to crawl up Ryan’s body, ushering in chills at the thought of what could be causing them. He turned to face the one open side of the hall he knew, the one which led to the kitchen, as a second tremor made him jump. The third quake was enough to knock him off of his feet, causing him to land on his backside on the scratchy carpeted floor. 


A shadow fell over him from the kitchen as an impossible figure appeared almost from nowhere. Ryan swallowed hard as his eyes tried to capture the behemoth before him. New red Converse were planted a mile apart, slightly out turned. They were too far away from him to be sure, but the scuffed white base of the nearest shoe was easily several times his height, and the massive crimson forms seemed almost comically large. Above the familiar star on the ankles, a small gap of skin showed two towers of pale flesh, connecting the shoes to the jeans. A particularly pale pair of white-washed denim rose several miles into the air, bulging out from the bottom like two tornados, the fabric clinging tightly to the flesh beneath. After some slack at the knees, two monstrous thighs like gargantuan melons pushed out against the denim once more, pulling the fibres apart and threatening to burst out of their prison. A few fashionable tears on the thighs shows more white skin, too far away to see in detail, and too high up for Ryan to comprehend. Her thighs seemed to shoot far out to the sides before abruptly coming in at the waist. While a loose sheet of black cotton hung around her, Ryan could see the profusions of mass that hung over the waistband, the largest of which was directly in the middle, lurching forwards and just sagging to hide the button on her jeans. The higher he looked, the more of this beast he could see. The shirt hung so cleanly over her belly only because it was pushed forward and held firmly by two planets on her chest. Each breast was larger than a building and swayed a little, buffeted by the momentum from the previous movement. Ryan recognised the vague logo of a band that his sister had talked about once but it was horribly contorted by the mounds beneath. 


And above all of that was Lizs face, looking over him towards the stairs. In her left hand was a plate, but it was too high up for Ryan to see what was on it. She took another step. The movement was deceptively fast given the size of his body, the leg travelling miles in a single stride towards Ryan and crashing down with the force of a bomb on the carpet. Ryan felt him body rise off the ground and fall back down, thrown by the force of his colossal sister’s wake. By the time he regained his sense, her other leg was already in the air.


“Liz! HELP ME!” he screamed, at the top of his lungs. Unfortunately those lungs were the size of an water droplets and his puny voice didn’t reach Liz’s ears. The tiny boy’s body rocked in terror as the shoe fell, violently shaking him world and moreover bringing the giantess of his sibling closer to his own defenceless form. As her foot came towards him, Ryan wanted desperately to run, but his body refused to move, overcome by the worthlessness in trying to escape his imminent demise. The sole of Liz’s shoe came into view, dominating his field of vision. He could see the trees in the rubber like hallways in a maze, mounds of dirt and mud larger than he was, flattened and broken into them under her weight. The foot came down with astonishing speed and he closed his eyes, waiting for it all to be over, to be crushed out of existence by his older sister’s carless step. 


The boom deafened him as the sneaker his the ground, millimetres from his insignificant form. He was tossed into the air, only to come crashing down in a heap at her feet. Ryan could smell the rubber of her shoe and as he looked up, slowly unfurling his body from its fatal position, he was staring directly at the front of Liz’s shoe. The great whit rubber wall towered over  him, maybe three stories high. He hadn’t realised it but he was in tears, his body shaking from the fear that was coursing through him. He was breathing hard and his heart was racing, willing him to run, to be anywhere but beside the horrific demise he so early underwent under the hellish shoe, He sprung to his feet and started to run, forcing himself towards the front door, what his base instincts saw as his best chance of survival. 


He turned to gauge how much time he had until the next earthquake, but Liz had stopped. Placing a toe against a heel, the titanic girl was removing her shoes. Ryan stopped running, forcing himself to breathe. He wasn’t safe yet. The towering colossus of his sister loomed over him still, at any second threatening to descend upon him. He had to keep moving. He had made his mind up to keep going for the door when a shadow passed over him. 


The titanic sneaker crashed onto the ground before him, the impact knocking him onto his back. He stared, trembling, up at Liz, who had just flicked her shoe over him, nearly smearing him out of existence. The monstrous figure was now shifting, readying to take off the other shoe. Ryan knew he didn’t have much time. The second sneaker was about to come flying towards him, and there was no way to tell where it would land. His brain kicking into autopilot, he rushed towards his one chance at salvation. He ran towards the open top of the shoe. Having landed on its side, Ryan was able to launch himself into it before the other half of the pair came sailing towards him. He got his entire body into the cavernous space before the other shoe hit, knocking his prison to the side. Ryan’s body tumbled onto the sole of the shoe as it came to rest the right way up, bruising his shoulder, but he was alive. 


Gasping for air from the effort of trying to stay alive, Ryan gagged as he sucked in the festering stink of Liz’s feet, the stale odour of sweat smothering him as if a solid. He didn’t have much time to complain as Liz picked up her shoes to put them against the wall. The sole pitched forwards and Ryan fell towards the toe section of the Converse, rolling to a rest against the worn rubber, dips having formed where Liz’s toes had compressed the shoe, over and over again. The force of his collision was too much, combined with the heavy air leaking of feet, Ryan felt his consciousness slipping and the dark cave became darker, then black.  




Jim’s world was black. He tried to move but was veritably stuck in the most embarrassing of places. The 35-year-old carny was still trying to get his head around it, but it was the only possible explanation. He had arrived early for his shift and had started up the machine, then began filling the bags to make it easier for when customers arrived. Then he had felt sick, but putting it down to a bad takeaway from the night before, he had persisted. Then everything had gone black. 


Now, he definitely felt the hard surfaces all around him, the uneven edges and corners dining into his body. But he was in near complete darkness, pinned in place. Thankfully the gaps in the enormous white shapes provided enough air for him to breathe. He tried to move and felt the slightest give in his prison, but ultimately he was stuck. He could hear muffled voices far above, but more than anything he felt the shaking. 


Like bombs going off far away, the world was constantly shaking to the beat of dozens of rhythmic blasts, each one mild but threatening. Suddenly, Jim felt everything shift, the kernels around him moved and he felt a strange weightlessness. He swallowed hard as his mind came to a conclusion his heart had been dreading: someone had picked up the bag. 


“Hurry up Em,” Mandy called, walking towards the theatre door, popcorn and drink in hand, while her friend was still paying. She stopped at the threshold, deciding that she should really wait for her friend. She propped her drink in the crook of her elbow and reached for a handful of popcorn. 


Jim heard rustling above him and cried out for help, only to have his tiny lungs fail to project his cries to anyone. After a few seconds, there was more shifting, and suddenly, he was on his back looking directly up at the ceiling fo the movie theatre where he worked. A second later, a monstrous hand descended into the bag of popcorn towards him. The fingers were each larger than his whole body by several times, and the enormous palm eclipsed the light above him. He screamed again as the buttery flesh met his body and the fingers dung in around him. He felt himself rising into the heavens, but he knew he was going somewhere far less appealing. 


Without a second thought, Mandy showed another fistful of popcorn into her mouth, her eyes fixed on her friend. 


The hot swamp of her oral cavity enveloped Jim and he  was suddenly able to move more freely. He landed on the rippling surface of her tongue, the size of a field, but was only able to feel the slobbering power of it for a second before it moved and he was tossed beside it. Jim’s limbs thrashed as he fell into a pool of saliva that rose to his waist, his mouth screaming without his knowledge of any of it. 


He looked around him on steady legs as a piece of popcorn four times his size was pushed onto the porcelain surface of one of the giantess’s teeth. The only light in the cavern came from the partly parted lips of the beast, but it was enough for Jim to watch the jaw snap shut and eradicate the popcorn in an explosion of white corn and spit. Before he could fully understand how doomed he really was, the Goliath serpent of a tongue nudged him from behind, onto the chopping blocks. 


As the tooth above him rushed to meet him, Jim rolled to the side from instinct, then shrieked out in pain, saliva flooding his mouth as he did. He had survived but only just. He couldn’t feel his left arm anymore, bar the overriding signal of pain. As the teeth parted, he felt relief from his arm, but not his torso. He shook as he saw the bloodied stump of his arm, leaving the slightest stain of red on the enamel of her tooth for an instant, before being washed away by her saliva. 


He was stuck, his body mercifully wedged between Mandy’s gargantuan teeth, but he wasn’t done yet. He noticed a pause in the chewing, as the 16-year-old realised  that something had caught in her teeth. Her friend arrived beside her and the two set about finding their seats, Mandy unconsciously flicking at the object with her tongue. Instead of dislodging it however, Mandy’s tongue did the next best thing. Jim screamed as the powerful muscle crashed into his legs and with the force of a truck. The little limbs were mashed out of existence as her tongue pulverised his fragile lower half, eventually dislodging him from her teeth to fall onto her slime gums. Jim could feel himself losing consciousness, but just before he did, he noticed a large tube enter her lips, which sealed around it.


Mandy slurped up a long drink from her slushy, washing the tinny man’s body away with it. His tiny form sloshed down the teen’s throat, disappearing forever without a soul knowing where, eventually to be digested and incorporated into the girl’s figure. 

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