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[Vore, F/m, Multiple, Shrunken Men]

No sane person in Gotham (of which there are far less than ideal) wants to run afoul of a super villain, least of all a Gotham-based one. Still, it’s often said by many, me included, that if they had to cross paths with one of Batman’s foes, they’d all prefer it to be Poison Ivy. And that’s just how I found myself in my current dire circumstances.

When I awoke, my entire body was on fire. It felt like I had just awoken the day after an exhausting day at the gym. My legs were like jelly. My arms quivered and hung heavily at my sides. My back ached and begged not to be moved at all. The light above was harsh and unwavering, but my eyes did adjust. My sight confirmed why I had been feeling a cool breeze since I awoke. My clothes were gone, leaving me bare and vulnerable in a sterile environment.

Though there was no ceiling, there was certainly no way I could climb out along the smooth glass walls. Alarming conditions to be sure, but it’s what was outside my prison that concerned me the most. The scale of everything was gigantic. From the table this cage sat on, to the various beakers and flasks taking up the rest of the space on the surface, to the dizzying walls of the room my room was contained in. I was either inside the home of a giant, or I had been shrunk down to only a few inches. As I remembered the events before I woke up, I knew it was the latter.

Others in my predicament began to wake up, too, all naked and all confused, but all different sizes. I don’t mean by a few inches or so, but…well, actually, I guess I do mean by a few inches. Still, their heights were not different like you’d find between two men walking on the street; a few inches by a normal perspective. They were of varying sizes of a few inches, but of this new shrunken perspective. There were men who ranged from as tall as my hip to as short as my knee. Others were easily double my height. It seems the effects of shrinking were not consistent. The shortest was maybe an inch tall, while the tallest was closer to six inches, if not more. It was a confusing mix of feelings of superiority and inferiority, being in the middle as I was.

As each man awoke and came to terms with their situation, they all had their own reactions, though none seemed entirely sure of all the facts. There was no time to share details and come up with an answer, or better yet a plan, as our captor entered the room.

She entered, in fitting with her “brand,” with a level of sensuality that captured her beauty and betrayed the danger she posed. Poison Ivy, the green-skinned villainess of Gotham. She was known for known for three things: her impossible beauty, her maddening love for the environment, and her penchant for controlling the minds of men with a kiss (or sometimes just killing them outright with a kiss). It seems we were a new method for her to express her hatred of mankind.

Ivy was all curves and venom. Shockingly red hair was voluminous and exquisite, framing her angular face. The juiciest pair of red lips. Shimmering emerald eyes. Her large bust demanded attention. The size of her breasts swelled against the corset made of leaves that hugged her body. Every breath she took cause them to rise and squeeze together further. Her hips swung left and right when she walked, as if on a catwalk. Legs nothing short of statuesque and oh so inviting. Though I didn’t have a good look of it from where she was standing now, I knew full well how appetizing her pert and firm ass was.

“Well hello, little boys,” she cooed, standing over the terrarium and looking down upon us with the same level of condescension her attitude did. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you all here tonight,” she expressed while running her fingertips across her belly. “I’m so famished and you all look so divine.” All of us within the container took a step back.

“Your surprise is, well, unsurprising,” she lamented. “Everyone thinks that because I love the environment and my expertise is in plants that I must be a vegan. Tell me, how does that make sense?” In truth it was an assumption I had too, and to her credit she was right: it didn’t make sense. “The opposite is in fact true. I, like many of my beautiful darling plants, enjoy the taste of meat. Raw meat. Live, wriggling, panicked meat.” Every utterance of the word “meat” caused her to bare her gleaming white teeth, her plump lips pulled back in a smile as she displayed them for us.

“But I’m not some wild animal, I do enjoy a level of, let’s say…foreplay? So, I’m going to start with the smallest of you and work my way up, up, and up.” With Ivy’s promise, I looked to my left and right at the other men. I was reminded that while I was not the shortest, I certainly wasn’t the tallest, either. So, I had some time to plan, but not as much time as I’d like.

The smallest of us, coming in at possibly just under an inch, had no such benefit of time. Maybe he has the benefit of not being terrified for as long as we were going to be. I doubt that would have made him feel better.

At his size, Ivy had no choice but to scoop him up onto her fingernail, balancing him in the red painted bone nail. We all watched as Ivy lifted him up to her face. Ivy regarded him with widening eyes and a slow, sensual, lick of her lips. Her moan, so deep and aroused, was on its own a delight to hear. No doubt we’ve all thought about hearing Ivy in the throws of passion. Given this context, though, it only filled us with dread.

With no more anticipation, Ivy turned her finger toward her mouth, and with the poor fool on its tip it went in between her lips. She closed her lips around the digit, moaning even louder now as she seemed to savor her victim. Her finger retreated with a pop; a thin line of saliva stretching from it to her lips. Though the motions of her mouth were small and subtle, at our height we could pick them up easily. She was clearly being gentle, trying her best not to end things too soon, knowing how much power even the slightest movement from her had over her first meal. Then, after much pretense, she swallowed. That’s when the panic really set in.

When next her hand hovered over the terrarium, we scattered, trying to escape something that could have just as easily scooped all of us up in its grasp. Sure enough, she went after the new shortest man in the tank.

This time, Ivy tilted her head back and held him up over her face. She laughed as she forced him to sway left and right, the threat of falling either promising splattering on the ground or landing in her mouth. Personally, I don’t know which would have been worse if I were in his position. He was slowly lowered to her open mouth. Just before he would pass the threshold of her lips, her teeth snapped shut with a clack. She followed that up with a laugh, seeming to delight in playing with her food. She did this a few more times before lifting him up as high as her arm could reach and dropping him down toward her outstretched tongue.

She gave him little time to be savored and swallowed him without further delay. That snack was more for the build up than the actual flavor, it seemed. The next man was easily grabbed as he was still distracted by the sight of her heavenly body shivering with delight over her last victim. He certainly remembered the danger when she snatched him up though. Trying a more casual approach, Ivy decided to toss the miniature man up into the air and attempt to catch him in her mouth. As if he was nothing more than a kernel of popcorn.

I suppose she wasn’t practiced enough in that skill, and instead of her mouth making the catch, it was her cleavage. We all watched as the speck barely registered as a man to our eyes landed upon the tops of her mint-green tits and slid down between them. Ivy didn’t seem to see where he landed, but she seemed to feel it. With a dismissive snort and permissive laugh, Ivy set to fishing him out from between her colossal tits. I’m ashamed to admit some part of me was jealous of him.

We watched as she pawed at her own breasts, moving them about to try and find the little man before he fell deeper into her hardly concealing outfit. Eventually he was found, causing a feeling of disappointment and dread to wash over me.

“Well aren’t you a frisky fellow? Diving in after my breasts like that,” she playfully scolded, as if he had had any choice in where he landed. “Still, you are rather cute,” she mused while regarding him closely to her eye, “so perhaps such boldness should be rewarded.” Was there hope for him now? Was there hope for the rest of us? Could Ivy’s needs other than hunger be satisfied and gain us a stay of execution or, god willing, a pardon? “How about a kiss?” A proposition most desirable if made by any other buxom ne’er-do-well, but from her it was anything but.

Thick ruby tiers puckered together and approached the exhausted man sitting in her palm. With an exaggerated smack and muah, the “reward” had been delivered. When Ivy pulled her hand away, we could all clearly see the shape of our brother in misery stuck to her upper lip. Apparently, Ivy could feel him there, as without needing visual confirmation, she stuck out her tongue and began to slowly drag it toward the “frisky fellow.” He had to stay there, stuck to a pair of the most beautiful lips in the world, as Ivy’s tongue took its time coming to collect him. When the tongue was pulled back in between her lips, we no longer saw him, but we heard what was undoubtedly the sound of his demise. Gulp.

“Now, who’s next?” At this point we were so exhausted and defeated by running around whenever she reached in for one of us. We knew who would be next, but it didn’t stop us from worrying she’d go off script and choose someone else. Still, it was always the shortest man in the tank who panicked the most. And I, as the next shortest man, began to feel a new level of dread as I knew my number would be next.

This prey was of course bigger than the others, and it seemed that granted him just enough strength to wriggle free of her pinched fingers. It wasn’t a far drop to the table below, just outside the terrarium, but it wasn’t a soft landing either. “Oops!” Ivy blurted as she saw the shrunken male loose himself from her grasp.

With a clearly sprained ankle causing him to limp back to us, the next item on the menu nonetheless moved quite quickly to the outside of the terrarium. He began to pound on the walls, begging us to let him back in. Clearly fear got the better of him, because he should have known as well as the rest of us that there was nothing we could do to get him back inside. And if we could, what good would that have done?

Behind him, Ivy’s face loomed with a sinister smile. She had lowered herself down, so she was at eye level with the tank. As the man slammed his fists in vain, Ivy inched closer, her mouth opening and her tongue lolling out. We begged him to turn around, to make a run for it for the edge of the table. The drop might kill him, but Ivy would surely kill him if he stayed. But it was no use. Just as he had begun to turn his head, Ivy’s tongue pinned him against the glass.

We watched as Ivy slowly dragged her wet tongue up along the wall of the terrarium. Her humid breath fogged up the glass, but we could always clearly see the spectacle of the man pinned by the salivating tongue. The glass smeared in her wake. Just as he reached the top, he took in a deep breath and began screaming. As last words go, they weren’t very inspirational.

Ivy slurped him back up into her mouth. The green goddess gave a muffled chuckle as she batted him around in her mouth. Then came that stomach churning gulp we had become all too used to hearing.

“I must say, you all have been the most fun batch I’ve had in a long time,” she admitted, confirming my suspicion that we weren’t the first to meet this grim fate, and unless someone stopped her we wouldn’t be the last. I had little time to think of the dead, though, as her eyes then locked onto me.

Before, I had regarded those who ran as fools. What possible solution could they have found in the seconds before they were grabbed by the hungry giantess? Yet, when my number was called, I was no less a fool than they were. I ran, scrambling for some exit that until now had gone unnoticed. All I had managed to do was trap himself in the corner of the tank. As her fingers approached, I could see the tip of her index finger was still wet.

“Leave him alone you witch!” One of the other inmates had summoned up some courage to make a stand. Logically I knew it wouldn’t have made a difference, but it did feel nice to have someone stand up for me. At least he would die with dignity.

“You fucking monster! You bitch!” He called out again, as Ivy clearly had given him no mind from his last insult. It was likely she couldn’t hear him, at his size. His words did give me some manner of courage, at least. Not enough to do anything myself, but at least I had stopped shaking so much.

“I said leave him alone, you cunt!” And that’s where my assumptions were proven wrong. Ivy could hear him, as that last word definitely grabbed her attention. And she did not look happy.

Chapter End Notes:

Two more chapters will follow this one! The outlines for both are done, so hopefully they'll be finalized and uploaded soon. I wanted to at least get this one done, though, for Vore Day, since it's so vore heavy. The rest of the chapters will not necessarily be vore focused, but each one will feature at least one instance of it.

Thanks for reading!

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