Goddess: Book 1 (Full Story) (Patreon)

Andrew had never really considered the finer details of his rivalry with Rachel. It never occurred to him that the reason she frustrated him so much could be because of how similar they were. It drove him mad that despite being just as capable in class as she was, when it the tests came around, she would always excel, and he’d be left in her dust, barely managing to pull together a passing grade. The two would debate for hours on the university’s online forums, both of them making strong arguments for their cause, but neither able to truly best the other...until Andrew was asked to regurgitate that knowledge in the form of short answer, essay, or multiple choice. 

For these reasons, the professor had assigned Rachel to tutor Andrew for the final exam of their History of War class. It was a decisive blow in the relationship between the two, and when the professor could suggested it, Andrew could practically feel the cocky grin on Rachel’s face. She had won. She’d defeated him. She was the victor, and would claim the spoils of his pride the following Saturday morning. He nearly dropped his classes and quit. He cared very little that his father had pulled strings to get him accepted into the prestigious academy, it was just his way of getting him as far away as possible...the two never got along anyway.

Sighing, the tall, jockish athlete climbed the stairs up to Rachel’s on campus apartment at 9:26 a.m., nearly half an hour later than they’d agreed. As he arrived, he sent a quick text to his girlfriend.

‘Just got to Rachel’s place. Wish me luck with little miss know-it-all.’ He didn’t expect a response, not this early, but Kate tended to be a little jealous, especially when he was going to be alone with other women. Shoving his phone in his pocket, he knocked on the door with a sigh.

“I figured you’d bailed on me…” That familiar voice came through the door seconds later, before it swung open. Rachel was right above average height, standing at 5’6”, and 116 lbs of bookworm. Her slightly curled, strawberry blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she was wearing a sports bra, athletic shorts, and relatively new looking sneakers. Andrew took a moment to fully objectify her before answering. The glasses she typically wore had been abandoned

“This is what you study in? Fuckin’ weirdo…” He commented, stepping in past Rachel, despite her not stepping out of the way.

“No, this is what I wear to go jogging in, because you’re half an hour late and I have other things to do today…!” She glared, daring him to push her any further.

“Then let’s just make this quick so we can say we did it.” Andrew responded, collapsing lazily onto the couch of her small living room.

“Fine by me…” She answered dismissively, trying to regain her composure. She was getting extra credit for this, it would be worth it, on top of the bragging rights for years to come. She wished her roommate, Amelia, was here...she had a penchant for keeping tensions down. With a frustrated sigh, she kicked off her sneakers by the door and made her way to the opposite couch, before she noticed something. Andrew had come in with nothing to study with or from.

“...Did you even bring your notebook? Or textbook? Laptop?” Anything?” She felt her temper rising again.

“Nah...you’re the tutor, don’t you have it?”

“For fuck’s sake, Andrew! Do you even care? Do you even want to pretend that you care?”

“I care about getting this class over with and being done with you.” Clearly the pleasantries were over. Andrew said, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table

“At least we can agree on something. Get your feet off of my table, I’m going to go get my books...and everything else. Just...just don’t touch anything.” Rachel, at the end of her wits already, stormed out of the room, white, ankle-sock clad feet thudding against the floor as she left.

Andrew smirked. Stupid bitch...if she was going to get extra credit for this, she was going to earn it. Sighing with content, he crossed his legs on the table, dismissing Rachel’s request, and closed his eyes, lounging back with his arms behind his head.

***

When Andrew opened his eyes, he found himself staring straight up at the ceiling. It was suddenly very distant, expansive, and vast. He hadn’t noticed how large this apartment was until now. The ceiling fan was spinning in a powerful radius that made him dizzy to watch, and unsettled his stomach. Wincing away the feeling, he sat up, and immediately realized that something was very, very wrong.

The coffee table that he’d once had his feet kicked up on was miles away, and the edge of the couch he was on was several dozen yards. From here, he could see to the carpeted floor,  dozens of miles down, a fall that would have lasted several minutes.  What once was Rachel’s cozy little living room was now an immense, undiscovered world. He had been reduced down to a miniscule height, easily under a quarter of an inch, stranded on the couch he was sitting on casually moments ago.

“H-Hello? Rachel? Anyone? Hello?!” He called out into the void, without even an echo in response. The tiny jock began to sweat, grabbing his arms, legs, chin, forehead..anything to confirm that he was asleep. “Oh no...no, no, no...this is impossible…” He swore to himself, falling to his knees on the threaded fibers that made up the upholstery of the couch cushion. Each thread, tightly woven together and indistinguishably connected for anyone at a normal size, were now as thick as telephone poles and he could see the stitching in each pattern that held them together. Tiny couldn’t begin to describe his size now, there were no words that could make him feel smaller, no description that could portray his miniscule size.

However, there was one other thing that he hadn’t conceived that would drive home his diminutive stature.

“I lost the biography we were supposed to read, I’ve been borrowing Amelia’s and…” Rachel’s voice thundered from the heavens like the force of nature she had become to him. So rapt in his own circumstances, he had failed to notice the first few rumbles of Rachel’s footfalls as she returned to her living room, carrying two books and a laptop. She’d also put on her glasses and pulled on a long t-shirt. ”Andrew?” She interrupted herself, pausing a few steps away from the coffee table. “...I told you not to go anywhere! You better not be in Amelia’s room!” The massive, towering goddess of a woman dropped her books on the table and laptop on the chair opposite of the couch, then turned on her heel and headed out of the room.

The appearance of the giantess had left Andrew in his tracks, jaw agape pants slightly more moist than they’d been moments prior.

“R-Rachel’s a giant…” He said aloud, as though speaking them would make them easier to believe. “G-giant...fucking...nerd…” He stared at the books that she’d left on the table, the size of city blocks and more. Even the text of the pages themselves would have been larger than the miniscule jock at this size. With no ability to comprehend the situation, Andrew collapsed where he stood.

***

Meanwhile, Rachel herself immediately headed for Amelia’s room, the door wide open, as usual. It was clean, immaculate even, complete with a small comfortable chair and extra blankets. The framed store-bought catch phrase that Amelia often quoted hung perfectly over the bed, “Home is where the heart is.” Rachel always appreciated Amelia’s willingness to make her room a comfortable place for anyone to occupy. With no sign of Andrew, she turned to check the shared bathroom, finding it empty. Finally, she checked the kitchen, the only other place he could have gone, also finding it abandoned.

“That asshole...he showed up just to leave again…?!” Rachel clenched her fists.  This was the last straw, a slap in the face. It was nothing less than a silent declaration of war between the two. Professor G would hear about this, she was going to send such an email. Storming back into the living room, Rachel grabbed her laptop and threw herself onto the couch, preparing her fingers to type with a fury unlike she had ever typed before.

***

Somewhere, in the blissful dream world that was Andrew’s mind, he was snuggled in bed with Kate. The two were enjoying each other’s company, just being cute together. Things had been rough lately, Kate had confessed her love for Andrew, who hesitated and only sort of returned the sentiment. She accused him of being afraid of commitment, more interested in winning this rivalry between he and Rachel than developing their relationship. They’d almost broken up that night when he’d started yelling, something he was prone to do when frustrated, a habit not interested in entertaining. Since then, they’d been taking things more slowly. 

He was woken from the reverie by the sound of Rachel’s footsteps as she erupted into the room, thin eyebrows furrowed with a scorn that would have intimidated Andrew even if he were not the size of a flea. Regardless, he had to get the girl’s attention and get to a hospital, a science lab, or more likely, a priest who could save his soul. Getting to his feet, he began to wave his hands, despite knowing how futile it would be, like a dust mite flagging down an unwitting human. She was grabbing her laptop, massive strides carrying her the short distance from the chair across the room toward the couch.

“Rachel…! Rachel!” He screamed at the towering woman, a final, earthquake-inducing footstep delivering her directly in front of him now. It was the closest she had come to him since this shrinking incident had begun. Rachel, as tall as any mountain and twice as deadly, cast a shadow on Andrew darker than the pits of hell. From here, on the couch, Andrew had an unrestricted view of Rachel’s toned legs, just above her knees. A tall expanse of tanned, feminine pillars, dotted with small freckles wider than he was lead up into the athletic shorts she wore, just barely covering her full, round butt. Each of Rachel’s perfectly curved ass cheeks were planetary in scope, each easily encompassing the hemisphere of a distant moon, if not a small planet itself. 

Or, at least that’s what he compared them to, as Rachel turned to face away from him, those same moon-like cheeks he was watching giving a full eclipse of all light, while the goddess above began to sit directly where he was standing.

“No...oh no, Rachel! Stop! Don’t fucking sit on me! Look where you’re sitting, watch the hell out!” He screamed at his infuriated classmate, as her luscious rump encompassed everything he knew, shorts riding up her thighs ever so slightly in the process. Was this how it would end? Smothered and crushed under the weight of his nerdy rival’s ass? Would she ever find out? Would she ever care?

He had no time to consider these details, Rachel, ready to scribe an email that would surely get him kicked from class or worse, was planting her backside in this spot with such a force that he would be wiped from existence before she even settled fully.

“Rachel...please, I…!”

Thoom.

Andrew’s world shifted into one of pain and undeniable pressure. He struggled and writhed against the fabric of her shorts, panicking, desperate to survive. The sheer weight of the girl’s rear alone would have required Herculean strength to escape, if he didn’t suffocate first.. There was no liberation from this hell, yet...here he was, alive, firmly between the monumental cheeks of the enormous woman's perfectly sculpted ass. This was indeed a memory he would live to remember for the rest of his life...however short that may be. For now, he would contemplate the situation, and pray to the goddess above him that she would eventually give him his freedom. After all, this was her world now, he was simply trying to survive in it.

***

Rachel attempted for a third time to construct an email that was both indicative of how disrespected she felt, but respectful of the title of the recipient. Professor G was a well known, level-headed instructor, patient and persistent, but commanding of every ounce of respect that she’d earned. Rachel wanted to show that she appreciated that suggestions, but that there was no saving the grade of a student like Andrew. He wasn’t stupid...just careless and rude. 

‘’Ugh...I should just go for my jog like I planned…’ She thought to herself. It was barely 9:45 A.M., plenty of time to get a few miles in, come home, and enjoy the rest of her Saturday. She could speak with the professor in person before class, after she’d calmed down. She stood with a sigh and walked to her abandoned sneakers by the door, and adjusted her shorts for the wedgie she’d acquired. Reaching down to grab her sneakers again, still tied from earlier,  she pulled them onto her slender feet and took a step toward the door.

***

He thought that some men might have even enjoyed being smothered under some girl’s ass, even if she was as bitchy as Rachel. Though he was really more of a tits guy himself, he could appreciate a nice round ass when he saw one. Being buried by one however, that was going a little far. 

It seemed like he’d been here, compressed under the weight of this nerd-girl’s butt for hours, though he knew it couldn’t have been much more than a few minutes. Still though, the combined weight, and ever-increasing heat was beginning to wear on him. He hadn’t even gotten a good chance to try to get Rachel’s attention before she already nearly killed him, and still could. He knew for sure, however, that he would have a whole new respect for women doing glute exercises in the future.

As he contemplated these things, he heard the springs of the couch below began to squeal, and the weight begin to lift. His hopes lifted...was she moving...? Was this his chance to escape? His heart began to pound in his chest, Rachel was standing. As he prepared to have the weight removed and his freedom restored, he felt something tug at his arm, then his opposite leg. As light began to flood in, he felt something shift, lifting him into the air. His vision cleared, and he realized all too quickly that he was snagged in the fabric of Rachel’s shorts.

“Fuck me…” Her swore out loud, watching the couch become a distant land below, eclipsed by the shadow of Rachel’s rounded rump. 

The process of Rachel’s walking felt like an amusement park attraction he never wanted to ride. As her thighs tensed and flexed to propel her massive body forward, the corresponding ass cheek would shift, threatening to pull him deep into the dark, deadly ravine of fabric wedged tightly between them. If he allowed it to happen, he’d surely be mothered between the shifting globes of woman flesh as she carelessly walked. Above him, shadowed by the oversized shirt, was the waistband of Rachel’s shorts, likely a few feet wide for him. If he could climb and reach it, he’d have at least some room to maneuver, instead of hoping his strength would endure him for the next several...who knows how long. Grabbing the next higher thread above him, Andrew began trying to pull himself free to begin his ascent to the peak of Mount Rachel’s ass.

He wouldn’t have to endure for long though. Within two more monumental strides of the colossus girl he was scaling, Rachel had reached her destination, just as Andrew had pulled himself free, fully supported by his own strength now. Still lodged between the two ass cheeks, Andrew continued his ascent, undeterred by the change in difficulty; climbing an unmoving giantess was much easier than climbing a moving one. Inspired, he climbed harder and faster, determined to reach his goal. That is, until yet another shadow darkened his sky.

Rachel’s slender hand came from the heavens with the power of a titan, french-tipped nails cutting through the air with a feminine grace that Andrew was humbled by. Each of her fingernails were the size of aircraft hangars, the fingers themselves curled into position, fingerprints easily as far apart as he was tall.

“No...Rachel!” He screamed yet again, closing his eyes and awaiting impact. 

And impact it did, Rachel’s fingers took ahold of the fabric below him, gripping it in her powerful hand and pulling. It happened more quickly than he could process, swathes of black fabric shifting dramatically in one way or the other, subjecting poor Andrew to it’s whim. Keeping his grip was an impossibility, and he was tossed from the girl’s shorts, diving into a freefall.

The pad of Rachel’s thumb only cushioned Andrew’s fall enough to prevent permanent injury, and it did not spare him any bruises. Being an athlete spared him in this incident, and he was able to quickly grab ahold of one of the dozens of swirling thumbprints that provided the texture of Rachel’s thumb. He clung to that flesh for all of his life, and Rachel continued to pull at her wedgie, unaware of the tiny jock who she’d both endangered and saved simultaneously from the hijinks at her ass. Once the offending fabric was free, the thumb let go, and Andrew was taken for yet another ride.

Clinging desperately to the warm, soft flesh that had saved his life, Andrew felt the winds wiping at his face as though he was standing at ground zero of a tornado. He tried to bury his body within the fingerprint as best as he could, hoping that whatever destination the hand was headed would provide for a safe landing. He didn’t have much hope, given his pessimistic nature, but he didn’t want to give up yet.

His collision with yet another new surface was not as gentle as the one prior, Rachel’s thumb had a softness to the flesh that cushioned him. This new, rugged surface, did not give nearly as much. It was synthetic, rubbery, and he rolled several feet before clinging to the surface to stop himself. Out of breath and weak, he opened his eyes to gauge his new surroundings. 

The first thing he noticed was that just several yards away to his right, Rachel’s thumb was gripping the fabric nearby. He knew time was limited, and he considered making his way back there to be carried off again. Taking a last look around, he’d made up his mind, until he looked directly ahead of him, and realized that he was only a body length away from a sprawling, yawning chasm, spanning a few hundred yards across. Gasping, he turned around to see what was behind, and was humbled by the sight. Towering, winding, tree like spirals of some synthetic rope created a looping, cascading tunnel the raised a dozen feet over his head and higher. Directly below him, on the patch of fabric he sat on, he realized was text, in font three times his size.

“NIKE”

A shoe. He was on the tongue of a massive sneaker, the spiraling coils of rope above him were the shoe strings, the chasm ahead, the mouth of the shoe. His heart began to beat rapidly, had he come any closer, or failed to stop himself any sooner, he’d have fallen into that terrible cave, lost forever until the owner decided to wear it. He prayed thanks to the gods above he hadn’t suffered such a terrible fate, and as he did, he was reminded that he was not safe yet.

The shoe shook violently, Rachel’s other hand grasping it to secure a grip with both hands. Unprepared, Andrew tumbled forward, once again nearly tumbling inside the chasm of Rachel’s sneaker, a fate akin to being banished to the underworld. Finally steeling his resolve, he glanced to the sky, unprepared, again, for the sight above him.

As white as any cloud that he’d ever seen, but exponentially more deadly, Rachel’s socked foot commanded his attention with sheer intimidation. It lorded over his world with a majesty even her ass had not quite captured. Toes, deftly writhing within their cotton prison, spearheaded the assault, poised to guide the rest of the foot into the shoe at the command of their owner. She thought nothing more of this simple action, she was simply putting her shoes on.

“RACHEL!  Down here, for fucks sake, look at me!” Andrew screamed angrily, beating his fist against the tongue of the shoe currently being slipped on. As Rachel’s toes approached the chasm of the shoe’s mouth, she pulled at the opening a bit more to give her toes more room to burrow inside. She could have untied her shoe and had a much easier time sliding it on, but she was so frustrated with that jock’s attitude, she just wanted to get started on her morning run as soon as possible.

That same jock had done his best to cling to the shoe’s fabric as the event horizon approached, but Rachel’s last little adjustment to make room for her toes finally dislodged him, and he slipped from the safety of the tongue of the shoe, and over the ledge he’d feared getting lost in moments ago. As he slipped over the shoe’s tongue, he grasped wildly for anything to cling to.

Again, his athleticism spared him, and he grabbed the opposite side of the tongue’s wall, now dangling precariously over the entrance to the shoe. He clung tighter than he had before, muscle already sore from attempting this same stunt at Rachel’s ass, but this time, there was a much more pressing threat.

Rachel’s toes finally slipped into the mouth of the shoe, shaking Andrew’s world that much more. He knew better than to look down, but the sheer spectacle of being this small, on a woman’s shoe as she pulled it along her foot was enough to draw his attention to the encroaching foot. Below, the pristine white toe of the socks were effortlessly squirming their way inside, like some massive aircraft carrier descending into a cavern below, a sight unparalleled to any he’d seen before. WIth his proximity and size, he could see between the threads that made up the sock’s form, and for a brief second, caught the pink toenail polish so gracefully applied by the goddess at some point recently. 

As the toes slipped into the shoe and out of view, he could feel the shoe shifting to compensate for her foot inside. If he were to fall there, he’d be cast into the same darkness, clinging to Rachel’s sock and praying to her for escape, somehow, some day.  The thoughts only pushed him to try harder, pulling himself slowly, fist by fist, toward salvation. The gyrations of a titaness simply pulling on her footwear unnerved him, knowing that only a few scant yards below, the slender foot of the woman who owned this shoe was pushing through the subterranean landscape he was dangling above, and should he make a mistake, he would certainly find his death.

Rachel’s instep came next, the sound of the sock sliding against the cotton of the shoe’s interior grinding at his ears. As the foot continued to slip inside, he could feel the rumble of her toes, now completely enveloped in their comfortable home, wiggling and stretching. Additionally, Andrew felt the entire shoe shift left and right, as the ankle shifted the foot above to wiggle it onto her foot. The vast plain of Rachel’s instep slipped inside, leaving on the heel to enter the titanic sneaker.

Another fistful of rubbery, synthetic shoe material gave him the strength to pull himself up, just as the heel of the foot reached the mouth of the shoe. Andrew rolled over away from the entrance to the cavern, just as Rachel’s colossal heel cupped into the pre-tied sneaker with a definitive, satisfyingly terrifying thunk that shook the shoe and shrunken man alike. He’d survived...yet again, he was alive, now stranded on top of this clueless bitch’s shoe.

***

As Rachel finished putting on both of her shoes, she grabbed the door handle, only to find it turning already. She stumbled backward, barely getting out of the door’s way as it swung open.

“Oh, whoa!” She called out in response, watching as Amelia stepped inside. 

“Ah, sorry! Hey girl! My bad…” The shorter girl answered, smiling sheepishly at her roommate. The beautiful brunette’s cheeks dimpled as she grinned some.

“No, it’s okay. Bad timing.” She grinned, waving off the mistake. “I’m going for a jog, be back soon.”

“I thought you were tutoring Andrew?” Amelia answered warmly.

“Yeah, I was…he showed up, didn’t bring anything, then bailed out. I’m going to talk to Professor G about it Monday.” Rachel folded her arms as she spoke, heaving a mentally exhausted breath.

“Maybe he had an emergency? Have you called him?”

“Pfft, yeah, I doubt that. He’s just a hot-headed prick, not even worth the extra credit. My pride is worth more than a curved grade on the final.” No longer interested in discussing it, Rachel began to tap her foot, somewhat impatiently.

“Alright, if you say so.” Amelia answered, defeated. “...movie tonight?”

“Sure...I can grab something. Maybe ‘300’?” Amelia’s face soured at her roommate’s response.

“Too violent. Clash of the Titans?”

“...and you’re calling 300 too violent?!” Rachel scoffed, grinning.

“Not with the blood and stuff!” Amelia’s cheeks flushed some.

“Whatever, I’ll call you later.” Rachel responded with a weak smile. She stepped past Amelia and out of the room, disappearing down the hall. Amelia, now alone, closed the door and headed for the kitchen. Maybe she could make something nice for Rachel to come home to, that would cheer her up.

***

Bruised, battered, beaten and ready to break someone’s face, the shrunken jock clambered his way down and under the path of shoestrings that acted as a canopy to the jungle that was the tongue of Rachel’s sneaker.  He knew he didn’t have long to get to safety...or get off of this thing, but being anywhere near what could be the entrance to that terrible cave inside the woman’s shoe was far and away from what he wanted. He didn’t have much of a plan, but he knew he wanted to get off of this shoe and to safer, higher ground. Above and behind him, he could see Rachel’s leg extending miles into the air, climbing her would take days, and he’d likely end up getting crushed or falling before he even got to her knee.

The memories of watching her toes descend into the shoe haunted Andrew’s mind. He wanted to scrub the vision from his mind, but those memories were nightmare fuel, he was sure there were a few of those primed and ready for whenever he got to normal again, if that was even possible.  He could feel the tremors of her foot shifting gently within the shoe, and it chilled him to the bone. He wanted to get away from this nerd’s shoe, if it meant being on the floor for the rest of the day, or getting sat on again, or climbing another massive ass...anything.

The toe of the shoe was like the parking lot of a mall, expanding out in every direction. It was sprawling and littered with potholes large enough for two of him to fit in easily. The last thing he wanted was to fall in one of those and ended up in down below...with the toes. Shuddering, he slowed his pace and began a jog. If he could just reach the very tip of the shoe, he could  climb down, sprint to the nearest wall, and get his thoughts together.

It may have been the multiple close calls and near-death experiences that he survived that inflated his ego, but there was no amount of luck that would prepare him for what would happen next.

It started with a small shift, a gentle twist of Rachel’s towering ankle. A football player, Andrew was able to compensate for this, the shift being more like an elevator moving than an earthquake. He adjusted his trajectory for the move by his unwitting host, and kept barreling forward. The next shift, however, was much more violent and unexpected. Rachel’s entire foot moved, sending Andrew tumbling over, barely dodging one of the crater-like ventilation holes in her shoe. Before he could recover, another massive shift, foretold by the toes adjusting below him, and he was sent sprawling forward.

“Hey! Stop moving, you stupid, giant bitch!” He screamed at the oblivious girl whose  shoe he was attempting to cross. Despite his protests, he was now much farther ahead than he was, if only slightly worse for the wear. A few dozen feet ahead, the very edge of the shoe, and salvation. He thirsted for it, he craved it. But Rachel had other plans. A third shift of that same foot, moving backwards this time, catapulted the tiny athlete over the edge of the shoe, down a sheer 100 foot drop toward the floor.

He fell for just a second, the sensation of descending toward maximum velocity to an unknowable fate becoming familiar in all the wrong ways. Would it be this time that fate selected to finally put him out of his misery? If not now, when? The thoughts flooded his mind, and he refused to look down. The distance from the toe of Rachel’s shoe to the ground was just shy of two inches, at best, but for Andrew, it might as well have been a mile.

‘It’s not the fall that kills you…’ He thought to himself, bracing for a quick death.

Instead...he changed directions, suddenly and violently. A sudden draft from the distance embraced him, carrying the miniscule man in its draft. A coincidence, surely, but enough of one to save his life, and instead of falling directly to the floor below, he was carried on the subtle wind to land unceremoniously on the ground with a 10 foot drop. He landed on his shoulder, dislodging it from the joint and causing a cry of pain. But a dislocated shoulder was infinitely more acceptable than death. Surely, just a convenient wind...inside of a dorm.

As he lay there in pain, Andrew counted his blessings, trying to will himself up to stand again. He didn’t want to, but he knew that Rachel’s shoe was still nearby. He pushed his body to sit up, then stand, grasping his shoulder. It throbbed, and trying to move his arm above his elbow made it that much worse. He thought to stay there and nurse his injury, or maybe even try to move the shoulder back into place, but he remembered where he was. Rachel’s massive, sneaker-clad foot loomed nearby, still shifting. Staying here, on the ground at Rachel’s feet was dangerous, a self-prescribed death sentence, really.

In the distance, however, with Rachel’s feel behind him, he could see a wall. He didn’t know what wall, how near or far it was to anything else, or if it was possible to climb. He did know, however, that getting there would mean he was much less likely to be stepped on. People didn’t walk directly against the wall. It was far from here though...three or four human-sized steps away. A difficult goal, but a goal worth achieving if there were one.

‘Get to the wall.’ He told himself. ‘Just get to the wall.’

He began to jog, despite energy, morale, and hope being low. Reaching his destination unscaved meant taking his first, well-deserved rest from the perils of Rachel’s presence since this had happened to him. He could make it to the wall and rest for a while, counting his blessings. All he had to do was run, run and pray that Rachel’s shoe did not….

THUD.

At this height and distance, Rachel’s voice was indiscernible. She might as well have been not speaking at all. Despite filling the sky, the words and context were as lost to Andrew’s interpretation as thunder in the clouds. Maybe, if he’d been able to interpret her voice, he’d have been warned of his next challenge. Rachel’s surprised gasp might have announced the arrival of her roommate in the entryway, just as Andrew escaped the immediate danger of Rachel’s shoe. Had he known ahead of time, and been aware of the havoc that this new goddess would rain down on him, he might have stayed aboard that sneaker.

Amelia’s sandaled foot appeared from the heavens and connected with the ground with all the might of a deity. The quick step shook the earth beneath him, announcing her presence. Dust storms from the displaced air kicked up, billowing at Andrew from the half mile away he stood. From the gently wiggling toes, exposed, high arches, and powerful, rounded heel, Amelia’s foot stood as a monument unlike any he had seen. He tumbled backward at the sudden presence of the feminine, slender foot that dwarfed him and everything around him with a majesty that commanded his full attention and respect. Amelia had merely stepped a single foot inside, and the tiny world that Andrew inhabited shuddered in reverence for the simple, innocent act.

That wind...it was the door opening, the displaced air of the door had been enough to carry him to safety. Now, Amelia was fully inside, towering over Andrew as she spoke with her frustrated roommate. The simple, thin sandals she wore were held to the foot with a single, inch wide strap across the toes, and another, thinner strap just above the heel, wrapping gently around the ankle, and tied in place with a small tassel. The sandal left much of the foot exposed, especially along her arch and heel, vast and impressive. The shoe had nearly no heel to speak of, and the toes were left unpainted. From Andrew’s perspective, standing in awe of the new goddess, it was quite perplexing. 

Behind him, Rachel’s foot, hidden by layers of sock and tucked into an aggressive looking running shoe, was a challenge he was intimidated by, but familiar with. Her ankle towered hundreds of feet into the air, lording over him and and accented by the rim of her sock, which barely peeked out of her shoe. It was climbable, and if he could predict it or find a place to cling to, survivable, even in Rachel’s footsteps. 

On the other hand, Amelia’s simple sandals commanded his attention with their sheer elegance. There was no rugged tread that he could be lost or trodden within, no deep depths to fall into. There were no socks keeping the toes at bay, no tangle of shoestrings interwoven along the instep. Amelia’s feet stood in full view, and yet he was more intimidated at the thought of approaching them than anything else so far. He could not hope to climb much higher than the insole with finding himself ascending the woman’s bare flesh. Even if he were to consider it, he felt almost unworthy of climbing the sensitive, smooth surface of the foot.

Maybe it was the fact that so much of the mostly bare foot was visible, but still dominated his vision that made Andrew struggle to continue his jog toward freedom, she’d taken but a single step into the room, and her presence had already become the primary source of his anxiety. The thin soles of the sandals she wore were probably three times his height at the thinnest point, and twice that at the thickest, which meant that even her toes were taller than the heel of the shoe. These skimpy sandals were a love letter to the female foot, and Amelia’s feet, with her slender, round toes and pronounced arches, were a perfect match.

Gasping audibly at the sight of another giantess in his vicinity, Andrew willed himself up to stand again, swallowed his fear, and began to jog again. He pushed himself harder, desperate to get to the wall more now than ever. If he didn’t reach the wall soon, one of these two girls was going to set a foot down in a very inconvenient place, and Andrew could disappear underfoot forever. The thought chilled him to his core, and he tried not to think about any of the four massive feet all within stomping range. His trial had begun. Amelia’s foot was not directly in his path, but it was near enough that he would need to come much closer to it than he was comfortable with, or give the foot a wider birth to avoid being within its shadow. The whole consideration felt pointless, in any capacity. Either of these girls could take a single step, or at worst, two, and tread upon him in seconds. No strategy or clever tactics would put him outside of that perimeter until he was against the wall. 

The first to cause Andrew undue stress was Rachel’s left foot, which swung around over his head, exposing the deep, thick treads. The shadow of the shoe darkened the ground around him, something he was getting reasonably familiar with considering how often if happened. As it passed over his head, he kept his pace for the wall, still only at least two miles away, if he had to guess. The fastest athletes in the world could cover that distance in less than 10 minutes easily, and being quite toned himself, felt than he could do it in 15. But 15 minutes was more than enough for him to be crushed hundreds of times over. Reaching the wall was possible, but surviving the girl’s footsteps was an entirely other issue.

The sound of Rachel’s left foot connecting with the ground far behind him was all he needed to hear to confirm that the threat it presented was currently placated. Despite the thundering echo and residual wind the step caused, Andrew was undeterred. Focused on his goal, he rushed along the vinyl, wood-like flooring, wishing that the panels had some kind of space between the tile that would provide safe passage.

The creaking of the floorboards was not unlike a warning siren, wailing as Amelia’s petite size 6.5 foot lifted from the ground and carried itself half a mile across the landscape. The was the first step she’d taken since arriving, and it was subtle, though for Andrew, it caused a panic that had him slowing to a stop. The towering woman’s sandaled foot was a force to be reckoned with, as it displaced the air around it, causing wind currents below and nearby to shift violently for anyone who happened to be near the foot’s path or destination. Andrew watched the entire motion, a simple maneuver, the foot barely lifting an inch over the ground with sandal in tow, before crashing to the ground milliseconds later. It was barely enough to call a step, yet it meant a completely new route for Andrew.

Cowering at her feet below, Andrew was forced to face the fear of Amelia’s dainty foot. The women were discussing something up above, causing the new goddess to shift into a more conversational pose. Closer now than earlier, the step had placed the foot more directly in Andrew’s path, leaving Andrew detrimentally within short jog of Amelia’s foot. He watched from its shadow as the toes settled into place, gently wiggling as they adjusted to the girl’s weight. The arch of her foot exposed quite a bit of the soft, wrinkled sole of the foot from this perspective, and he imagined how many creatures his size had met their doom under this normally delicate field of flesh, meticulously cared for and pampered. With her foot closer now, he would have to take a less direct path toward the wall...something he did not want to do.

A daydream settled upon him, or rather, a waking nightmare. He imaged Amelia taking a much more substantial step, the simple sandal that adorned her sweet little foot rising into the air above him. He thought about how hopeless he would be underneath the sole of the shoe, and how unrecognizable his remains would be when Amelia set her foot down, toes gently wiggling as she finished the step. He thought of how unnoticed his tiny life would have ended.

In a moment of blatant panic Andrew’s resolve melted away. He turned 180 degrees, ready to embrace a new life at Rachel’s feet instead.The nerd girls sneakers were easily climbable, and had much less exposed skin, something that provided a strange comfort. He begged her to stay still long enough for him to climb aboard the daunting mountain of a shoe, dislocated shoulder and all.

But Rachel, as per her usual antics, was not so quick to grant this wish.

As if in response, Rachel’s foot sprung to life, sliding with a chaotic, ear-shattering noise across the floor, sending Andrew to his knees. Her sneaker barreled toward him, treads as tall as any building relentlessly covering territory at an incomprehensible speed. Before he could react, Rachel’s sneaker slid to a halt over his miniscule body, massive treads nearly crushing his meager existence beneath them.

Opening his eyes again, he had been plunged into a labyrinthine darkness, surrounded on three sides by 10 foot tall, black rubber walls. He was lost within the tread of Rachel’s sneaker, a gift, he thought, compared to the indomitable sandals of her roommate. This new world, beneath the feet of his towering would-be tutor, was creepily quiet. The sound of rubber and plastic moaning to adjust to the weight of the wearer above could only be heard by him. He remembered noticing the black and pink accented shoes when he arrived, looking down at them and hardly giving them another thought. Now, beneath them, they were the only thought he had.

Light flooded into his world, and though he hadn’t fully adjusted to the darkness, the change was jarring. He looked up, panicked at what had caused the change. For a split second, he could see Amelia’s other foot in the distance, shifting to be nearer to it’s twin. Before he’d gotten a chance to react to the sudden light, Rachel’s shoe came crashing back down around him again. Banished back to the eerie of darkness within her sneaker’s tread, the massive boom and expulsion of air caused both of Andrew’s ears to pop at once. He grabbed his throbbing head, only for light to flood back into his world again. His gaze shifted up, and as he did, Rachel’s sole was already descending. She was tapping her foot...of all times. 

Screaming, Andrew’s fight or flight response triggered, unsure of whether he should try to escape, or simply cover his head and hope for the best. The simple motion of tapping her foot was going to be his undoing.  

Rachel answered his question for him, the shoe descending with more force this time, the wind erupting around him send him tumbling, just as the shoe descended again. Darkness fell yet again, and this time, when it lifted, so did Andrew. Caught between some of the thinner tread of the sneaker, Andrew was carried into the air with the next simple tap of the girl’s shoe, nearly vomiting at the speed and acceleration. He couldn’t catch his breath enough to scream, but in his mind, he was screaming incomprehensibly.

This next quick tap of Rachel’s shoe dislodged the tiny student, shaking the ground around him. He rolled over once, just in time to watch the shoe lift off of the ground again. Unprotected and in the open, there was no possibility  that he could end up under foot and alive again. He braced for impact.

But none came. Rachel, foot resting on her heel, had blessed him with mere seconds of time to escape her step. Though bones and muscle alike ached, Andrew found the strength to stand and sprint, escaping the shadow of the girl’s tread. Even though the shadow no longer covered him, he knew better than to stand still. He had to clear enough ground to avoid the…

Woosh.

 A final stomp by Rachel send a gale force wind at the shrunken boy on her floor, sending him flying away from her sneaker and tumbling across the ground. He landed with a heavy thud, having only been a few feet off of the ground from his perspective, and slid several more yards before he collided with another vertical surface. Without the energy stand again, he lay on the ground. The wall...he must have been knocked all the to the wall he was trying so hard to reach. He’d survived...after nearly being stepped on and crushed alive by Rachel’s gently tapping foot, he’d finally made it to safety. Eyes slowly reopening, he peered up at the wall that had become his savior. Instead, dread overcame his senses...this was no wall.

Amelia’s foot was as impressive as ever, the subtle sandal’s sole towered over his head. Above it, the girl’s toes were nestled in place. Terror filled his mind, and he found the strength to push himself backwards, attempting to crab walk away from the wall of the sandal. From this close, he could smell the fading scent of her lotion, and the length of the foot itself stretched farther in each direction than he was willing to try to consider.

“Amelia...Amelia...!” He managed to stammer out, finally letting the scope of the girl’s foot settle into his mind. Despite the magnitude of just a simple sandal and the foot it adorned, if Andrew wanted to survive, he would have to climb and conquer this traumatic fear if he wanted to survive. Amelia was the closest thing to rescue he had now. 

He considered approaching at her toes, where the climb was minimal. The toes were long and slender, with a the same slight olive hue as the rest of her face, tanned from constant exposure to the sun. He could slip between them and stay until he had a better plan. Likewise, the toes could wriggle and send him to an early grave as her toe lint. To his right, the strap of the sandal that stretched across all 5 toes was nearby, giving him easy access, and only a slightly higher climb. He cast his gaze to the distant heel of the foot at immediately ruled it out...it was far away, and the highest, hardest climb. If he could reach the top of the strap over her toes, he had confidence that he could hold on tight. Sighing and swallowing his fear, he approached the black strap of the brown leather sandal.

His shoulder screamed at him for daring to put any weight on it. Lifting his arm over his head was uncomfortable, but pulling himself up with it proved nearly impossible. Frustrated, he tried to use the fabric of the sandal’s strap as ladder rungs, intricately woven was the elastic material. They worked well in this regard, and Amelia was being incredibly still. She was never the type to fidget anyway, not like Rachel.

And so he climbed. A shrunken college football player, frantically climbing the toe strap of his classmate’s skimpy sandals. Another memory he would never forget, no matter how hard he tried.

As he pulled himself up with his good, left arm, he attempted to balance himself with his  right, but even that bit of pressure caused his shoulder to rebel. He attempted to find better footing, and pushed himself up with his feet, but felt the strap’s elastic was a little too forgiving to support himself solely on his single arm. He could climb, but it wasn’t easy, and he may not be able to reach the top of Amelia’s toes after all. Discouraged, he looked up for options.

The sandal’s sole was only another foot above him. If he could get there, and Amelia stayed as still as she was now, he could make his way to the arch of her foot and settle in there. Another humbling consideration. He was too injured to climb the unwitting girl’s sandal strap, and his only recourse was to hide under the arch of her foot and pray that she did not crush him underneath her sole as she walked.

Thoughts like that had no place in his mind, and would only discourage his progress. As pathetic as he was, and as insurmountable as Amelia’s sandal seemed, he had to keep some level of positivity, or give up now. Despite his shoulder’s protests, he pulled himself up with a barbarian’s yell, giving himself just enough height to tumble over the edge of the sole of the sandal, just at the ball of the girl’s foot.

Heaving a heavy breath and sweating relentlessly, he rolled over and leaned into the slightly firm flesh at the ball of Amelia’s foot. He’d just put a tremendous amount of effort into scaling what was essentially no taller than a single one of her toes. How was he supposed to get her attention this way?

More thoughts to push out of his mind, and other thoughts took their place. The warm skin here reminded him of Kate. The two were polar opposites in terms of personality. But something about the smell of Amelia’s skin and fading lotion reminded him of his loving girlfriend...even if he wasn’t sure that he loved her quite as deeply as she did him. Despite her shortcomings, Kate was a real catch, and if he wanted to see her again, at any size, he needed to survive. Surprised at how long Amelia had remained still, Andrew turned over onto all fours, crawling along the length of the sandal, heading for the fleshy cavern of the arch of the woman’s foot.

If he’d gotten only a simple hint of Amelia’s scent from his position near her toes, aboard her sandal, the gently sent increased exponentially as he journeyed across the leather platform of her insole, closer to his destination. The towering exposed flesh of Amelia’s arch had begun to slowly lift above him. The slender foot that occupied this shoe was forgiving in this regard, allowing him a growing amount of space to crawl along, until eventually the fleshy wall had completely lifted away from the sandal’s surface, and he had reached the arch of her foot.

Standing at his full height, he was overwhelmed by the warmth and scent of female flesh, delicate, gently cared for skin expanding for several yards underneath the foot above him, creating a comfortably sized cavern. As he stepped deeper, exploring the intimate surroundings within the oblivious girl’s sandal, the sole of the foot above slowly descended several yards back, forming the beginning of the heel of the foot, a place he knew to avoid.

Maybe it was how well cared for the foot had been, or simply because the foot was such a splendid shape, but this warm cavern of leather and flesh was inviting, as much as any natural cavern could be. Getting back onto his hands and knees, he crawled deeper within and rested on his back, staring up at the oceanic sole of Amelia’s petite foot within the simple sandal.

***

Amelia made her way into the kitchen with casual strides, a small smile on her pleasant face. She was glad to be home after a night on consoling a broken hearted friend who had been cheated on. Though she’d gotten a few winks of sleep, she knew tonight would be an early night. For now though, some breakfast and a good book would carry her through this quiet Saturday morning.

Two pieces of toast were placed in the toaster, and as they began to brown, a tea package was placed in the fancy tea and coffee maker. Finally, half of an avocado was peeled and mashed into a spread, and the strawberry preserves were retrieved from the refrigerator. With everything in place, the toast was set on a plate, one piece slathered with preserves, the other in fresh avocado. Her tea was poured into her favorite mug, sadly missing a handle, and Amelia was set to enjoy her breakfast. Snatching her earbuds out of her pocket, she settled into the couch. Her food was set on the coffee table, and she slipped out of her sandals. Feet were kicked up on the table while Rachel was gone, a habit they didn’t share, and earbuds were placed in. Smiling comfortably, she reached for her tea first. She was excited about it, it was supposed to have real leaves in it.

***

Andrew’s comfortable little nest within the arch of Amelia’s foot did not stay settled for long. Despite being tucked rather neatly into the alcove of female foot flesh, a place that minutes ago he feared with every ounce of his being, he knew that this unconventional encampment would not last. As the giantess began to move finally, the fleshy ceiling compressed around Andrew, and tiny, shrunken student barely manage to roll a few feet to his side, avoiding the soft sole that would have otherwise flattened him. Still underneath the arch however, he braced for what he knew to be the first of dozens of Amelia’s footsteps.

The first seemed to go rather well, maybe because the woman was only barely getting into her stride. Her sole flattened only barely around him, now that he wasn’t buried so deep under it. He’d tucked himself neatly within the warm little pocket, protected from the elements and dangers by the very foot he thought would end him. 

Woosh…thud.

He was given a first person perspective of the world flying by, watching from within his safe little alcove. Being beneath the foot meant that he was not subjected to the wrath of the wind, nor did he have to do much to keep his position, though he slipped his fingers into  a bit of stitching for his own peace of mind. The liftoff of Amelia’s first foot step with passenger aboard had gone without a hitch. Andrew was rather proud of himself for facing his fear, and had been awarded with safety as a result.  An earth-flattening impact accompanied the conclusion of the first step, the wrinkled sole settling around him again, though not to as dangerous of a degree as before.

This rhythm repeated itself beautifully with each step. The foot would flex in preparation for a step, before lifting off into the air, covering dozens of miles with each stride, before settling back to the ground would power thud. He imagined what this process would have been like from  the floor. Amelia’s feet would have been much less forgiving, her step destroying anything in its path, displaced air acting as a harbinger to anything nearby to be wary, there was no survival beneath that tread. Unless, of course, you been adopted by the safety of the arch, protected unwittingly by the very sole would otherwise see your ruin.

It didn’t hurt that he’d always appreciated Amelia’s gentle nature. She commanded respect in such a way that didn’t come off as overbearing or entitled. She was helpful and kind, objective, but fair.  If she hadn’t declared an open penchant for women over men, he would have thought to pursue her in the absence of Kate.

Eventually Andrew found a rhythm to Amelia’s steps, and settled into it. His shoulder throbbed still, but being able to rest and avoid putting any pressure on it meant not having to worry about making the injury worse. Eventually he would get back to normal and put all of this behind him.

There were only a few unexpected situations that caused him any stress. Once or twice, the woman would be reaching for something just beyond her fingertips, and she would lean up on her toes to grab it, causing the whole sandal to tilt dramatically forward. When this happened, Andrew had to grip the sole of the sandal and hold tight to avoid tumbling underneath the ball of her foot, which would result in a much less comfortable situation, or more likely, death. He was able to maneuver his way back into his perfect position, and continue his ride.

What would Amelia have thought, had she known of the tiny creature tucked underneath her sole, relying on the arch of her foot for protection. Would she have let him stay, content to have a passenger enjoying the ride? Would she have suggested that her toes would have been more secure? He considered all of these things far longer than he might have, perfectly content to stay here as the clueless brunette carried him in her sandal.

Eventually, however, Amelia’s footsteps came to an end. A final powerful thud indicated that she had finished moving, and across from him, the accompanying sandaled foot had come to rest in place as well, mirroring the perspective he had from Amelia’s other foot. Elegantly tied with a tassel at the ankle, he’d grown to appreciate this perspective. Just a lowly speck, cowering at the indomitable feet of the giantess. He had gained a certain reverence for Amelia’s gentle feet now...maybe even a preference.

Thoughts aside for now, Amelia’s finger descended into his view, grasping at the tassel and string holding the sandal in place on her heel. From his viewpoint at her other foot, the goddess’ fingers tugged at the strap until it slipped free from her ankle, tumbling to the ground loosely. It seemed like she was going to remove her sandals, finally, and Andrew would be left stranded on the empty surface. Having had a mental break from the torture Rachel had put him through, he stood, watching as Amelia’s finger swung over to the sandal he occupied and began to untie the straps.as thick and tall as redwood trees, the strings of Amelia’s sandal tumbled from above, one of them even bouncing off the insole of the sandal, nearly colliding with the nearby stowaway. 

He braced for impact, waiting for the massive, bare foot to slip out of the sandal. Instead, Amelia’s fingers began to descend even lower, even past her ankles, down toward her insoles. Andrew winced, unsure of what was happening...not until the finger began to curl inward and moved forward, the simple, natural tips of her fingernail swooping in. She was scratching her foot, likely from the tiny irritation of a shrunken man playing ‘survivor’ underneath her sole. 

Amelia’s index finger flew into his world, unimpeded by anything less than an act of the goddess herself. The fingernail slipped effortlessly into position, sliding against the insole of her sandal, careening toward him and gliding across the surface of the shoe. Andrew attempted to scramble away from the enormous fingernail, but inevitably was scooped into the underside of marauding appendage. He tumbled several feet along the length of what would otherwise be considered a shorter fingernail, until he settled against the flesh of the finger itself. Dizzy and tired of being flung about, he clung tight to the woman’s finger as it, along with two other fingers, scratched at the exposed sole of her foot.

Watching from here was rather disconcerting, the same flesh he had curled up under for protection was being abused by the fingers. Unnoticeable amounts of dirt and skin gathered along the fingernail as the goddess scratched her foot, sending the deluge of underfoot refuse tumbling toward Andrew, who was helpless to do much other than prepare for the onslaught.

But Amelia’s temporary foot scratching session lasted only a few quick, dizzying seconds, and despite his worries, only trace amounts of what had gathered beneath her foot trickled down to him. He sighed in relief, pushing away several softball sized flakes of skin and dirt collected with him under her fingernail. No sooner had he done this, was he holding tight to the finger again, clinging desperately to the skin as he was carried away from the foot at long last, up toward salvation. He was saved, clinging to the fingers of the woman who would be his savior after so long at her feet. He turned his gaze, ready to embrace Amelia’s concerned face.

Instead of seeing the face of a veritable angel, however, he saw a vast, brown ocean contained within a teacup. Simultaneously, he felt his grip shifting, and before he could truly grasp again, Andrew was free falling.

“Amelia…!” The tiny jock screamed, watching Amelia’s finger continue forward to grasp the lip of the cup he was careening toward. Really it wasn’t more than an inch, but an inch for the shrunken man might as well have been a mile. He felt betrayed, stabbed through the heart, after all of his dedication, Amelia tossed him aside like so much dirt. He was broken hearted, he was terrified of what was to come next. Moreover...he was wet.

Andrew landed unceremoniously in the full tea cup, submerging quite a bit before he was able to kick back up to the surface and gasp for breath. His shoulder immediately reminded him of his wounded state, swimming was not his sport of choice, and even with both arms at the ready, he was mediocre at best. He was able to above the surface with just a few kicks though, and while hot tea was uncomfortable, it was not scalding. After more than a few minutes, he knew he would start to feel the repercussions of sustained exposure to the heat. He had no intention to stay in Amelia’s beverage that long, however.

Steepled around the perimeter of the cup were Amelia’s fingers, surrounding him on all sides, and directly above, was the palm of her hand. The shifting waves and panning scenery beyond her fingers left him with no doubt that he’d landed as she’d picked up the cup, no doubt headed for her lips for a generous sip. He called her name for the hundredth time, to no reply. Even as he ascended, her fingers shifted majestically from around the cup, now supported by her other hand from underneath apparently, her face was revealed, casually glancing down at the sea of warm brew she held in her palm. 

She was smiling. A gentle, crooked smile that warmed his heart as much as the tea warmed his flesh. The sunshine from the window behind her bathed her face in golden light, chestnut brown hair framing her dimpled cheeks and subtle chin. She had to have seen him, that smile was just for him, she was welcoming the tiny boy back to the safety of her embrace, just as she had unwittingly done when he was at her feet. He laughed, shedding a tear of joy. 

‘Thank you, Amelia!’ He thought, reaching his arm out to receive her.

***

‘Oh, they do use real leaves...’ Amelia considered happily, a small smile on her face as she considered the tiny speck in her cup. She appreciated the little things this company added to their teas to really boost the flavor. ‘Watch out little leaf friend…here comes a storm!’ She offered the warning to the tiny fleck in her cup. With no further ado, she pursed her lips and began to blow into the tea cup, ensuring she wouldn’t burn her tongue on the beverage.

***

Amelia’s little leaf friend watched as her lips pursed and hurricane force winds assailed his tiny body. Mere inches from her face, Andrew was absolutely sure that, for a moment, the two were making eye contact. They shared a moment together, and when that moment ended, it ended in the worst way. He coughed and sputtered, torrents of tea carrying him through the surface of the beverage. Swirling torrents buffeted against him, threatening to send waves of tea into him, to drag him back into the depths of the drink. He imagined if this was what sailor endured under the wrath of Poseidon.

The violent storm that he had been subjected to was over as quickly as it had begun, and in the aftermath, he realized that it was just a single breath from the pretty lips of the woman above. Pretty lips, he noted, that were much closer than they had been before the hurricane.

Where once they had simply been a feature of the face he had longed to be noticed by, now Amelia’s lips were massive, plush walls of flesh that dominated his vision as they drew closer, still ever so slightly pursed. They were pink, but not due to any artificial gloss or overly applied lipstick. It was the hue of her flesh, a perfect beginning to the gradient that would eventually darken into a much more brash red, somewhere within the mouth of the goddess, or at best, within her gullet.

“AMELIA, DON’T DRINK ME!” He screamed at the pouted lips, especially as they began to separate ever so slightly, the lower descending beneath the rim of the cup he was stranded in. Thanks, in part, to the windstorm she had subjected him to, he was far enough away from where the lip of the cup met the lip of the girl,  that he was able to take in the entire scene unfolding. The cup had begun to tilt barely toward the parting lips, but not enough to begin a full downfall. No, Amelia had other plans for this particular drink.

Siiiiip.

She began to inhale, yet another world-altering event, allowing what willing fluid at the event horizon had gathered there to begin passing through her lips. Dozens of gallons, certainly, disappearing into her mouth and mingling with the saliva within. The sound of her tiny sip ripped through the porcelain cup, reverberating through it like a soprano in a concert hall. Andrew wanted to cover his ears, but with a shoulder out of commission, and the other dedicated to keeping him afloat, he was not afforded the luxury.

The event was hardly enough to warrant a full swallow, but more than enough for the cup to shift back, and introduce a leviathan of pink muscle to slip out of the cavern it rested in, and caress Amelia’s lips, before retreating back. A quick lip of her lips to retrieve what remnants there were of her quick sip of tea. All of this drama, so that she could simply taste the first drops of tea. A more generous taste would leave him much closer toward her gullet, and as attractive as Amelia was, he had no intent to explore her majestic form from the inside. No, the woman’s stomach was no place he wanted to visit, no matter how lovely the host might have been. Sighing with temporary relief, he began to form a plan to escape.

***

Amelia giggled to herself at the personification of the speck-sized leaf in her morning drink, reaching for her strawberry toast. Lifting it up to her mouth, tea cup still held nearby, Amelia took a quick bite of the toast. As she did, her eyebrows furrowed in disappointed as crumbs tumbled away from her crunchy bread, many settling down into her tea. With tiny crumbs littering her tea, she lost track of her little leaf friend. Shrugging it away menttally, she set the toast back onto the plate, then lifted the mug back to her mouth as she chewed her first bite.

***

 

“Amelia! Look down here! Just look at me!” Andrew continued to scream, pushing himself toward the edge of the cup that he’d already been blown toward by Amelia’s attempt to cool down the beverage. Wading through the massive, man-made hot spring within the cup, his heart sank as he watched Amelia’s face moving a small distance away, making it more difficult for her to notice him. On the bright side, however, it meant he had at least a few moments before having to concern himself with being swallowed again. He continued his one-armed paddle toward the edge of the cup. If he could get out and over the edge, Amelia’s hand had to be nearby, if not directly below.

The next several seconds went by swimmingly. Other than the gentle current caused by the shift of Amelia’s hand holding the cup, he felt generally unharassed, and hadn’t even looked back up toward the heavenly visage of her face. Not until he heard a devastating, thunderous sound from on high, loud enough to distract and terrify him. He hadn’t even gotten a strong look at what had caused such a tremendous cacophony before meteors of varied size began to descend upon his personal ocean.

The first of what he would learn to be bread crumbs splashed into the sea at a safe, but still disconcerting distance away, and he immediately noticed that they floated. Taking note subconscious and putting it aside for now, he cast his gaze skyward again to notice that another, larger, car-sized meteor was careening toward him. Gasping in fear, he submerged himself as the bread crumb made its landing, a small deluge of displaced tea splashing nearby. Returning to the surface, he counted the meteor storm as a blessing in disguise, and used what remaining strength he had to pull himself aboard the floating vessel. Breathing heavily, he turned to look at Amelia, and was instantly mesmerized by the gentle movement of her jaw, chewing away. 

Of greater concern, was the fact that her face was rapidly approaching again, surely preparing for the first real draw of her breakfast tea. Andrew was not sure whether the simple act of Amelia enjoying some toast and tea causing him so much distress was infuriating or awe-inspiring. Either way, his heart rate had increased threefold at the thought of being consumed in such a manner...or any manner at all.

Blissfully unaware as usual, the woman’s face loomed overhead, and soon those perky lips dominated his siteline. Yet again, the pink leviathan made its debut; Andrew had barely registered the gathered crumbs scattered across Amelia’s lips before they were wiped away in a quick, easy lick from her tongue.

‘Please don’t drink me...please don’t drink me...I don’t want to be swallowed, I don’t want to die…!’ He began to repeat in his mind, forming the words with his mouth but never actually uttering them this time. The lips parted again as they made contact with the cup, pressing against the surface in a light kiss before they parted. The cup began to tilt again, this time more drastically, and the gentle current that had accompanied him for the last several seconds took a dramatic turn, both in direction speed. The winds began to blow again, Amelia’s gentle inhale to begin the sipping process assaulted his ears again, but he was far less concerned about the sound as he was concerned about his proximity to her encroaching mouth.

Lips parted once again, Andrew was given a distinct view of Amelia’s cavernous mouth, cast in shadow, with hints of the danger within catching bits of light. A flash of white from a tooth, the pink of her gum line, tongue, and uvula, pools of saliva gathering everywhere. The deep red of her throat, barely discernible from within the cup, served as a final warning to any who would dare venture near. The mouth of the girl grasping his world in her palm was daunting, even more so than his encounters at the woman’s feet.

Andrew clung to his makeshift floatation device with all of his might, though he heavily considered abandoning it to try surviving the current under his own power. He wasn’t stronger than the pull of the sip, but he had a will to survive, unlike the mindless breadcrumbs that practically threw themselves into Amelia’s gullet with all abandon. ‘The cowards.’ he thought, looking for a scapegoat of any type to justify why he was unable to escape the situation. It wasn’t his fault he’d been shrunken to such a pathetic size. It wasn’t his fault Rachel sat on him, or that both of the girls nearly stepped on him. And it still wasn’t his fault that Amelia was about to swallow him alive with her breakfast.

He was close now, close enough that looking directly up, he could see Amelia’s nostrils above, even darker than the depths of her mouth. He quickly looked away, back into the void beyond her lips. He caught snatches of her glistening tongue that resided beyond the warm, supple guardian lips, hundreds of gallons of tea disappearing beyond them each moment. 

His heart sank. It was over.

The deluge of tea carrying his crummy raft toward Amelia’s mouth finally reached the point of no return. The woman’s lip, now almost directly above, puckered gently to increase the efficiency in which she sipped her tea. Her upper incisors above, only the very tips visible at this juncture, threatened to collapse around him the moment he passed through the chamber they guarded with such dedication. Darkness began to consume him, as he prepared to also be consumed by Amelia.

*Bzzzt, Bzzzzzzt!*

It all happened rather quickly, a distant, but distinct buzzing from somewhere far below. Enough to pause Amelia’s sip, enough to save his life. As Andrew and his improvised sea vessel crested the brim of the cup, Amelia’s slight shift in position caused both he, and a single drop of tea, to slip from the cup, and drip onto the woman’s lower lip. Caught in a rogue trickle of tea, Andrew, desperate to find a breath of air,  spent milliseconds stranded within the dribble of tea resting on Amelia’s lip, before, as one would expect, her leviathan tongue made a tertiary visit outside of its personal realm.

The tongue, riddled with taste buds as tall or taller than he, lashed out with the speed and grace of a dancer, attempting to snatch what tiny bit of tea had not become enveloped within the warm, moist cavern of Amelia’s mouth. Andrew, breaching the surface of the drop, watched helplessly as the monumental pink muscle attempted to capture him and drag him between the teeth, to become a toy to toss around, and ultimately sacrifice to the chasm of her throat. But lady luck had granted Andrew one last chance.

As the tongue slipped out, it caught only the tiniest taste of the droplet of tea. The rest of the droplet, unfortunately for the tongue, was propelled forward, just enough to roll across Amelia’s lower lip, and begin to slip along her chin, carrying a tiny, helpless little jock along with it. Before he knew it, he was rolling along the surface of Amelia’s chin within the drop of tea, which left a trail of tea in its wake.

Saved. Once again, what should have been his demise at the unwitting presence of the woman above was simply another nightmare inducing set of events that he had lived through. And below...what terrible fate awaited directly below?

From Amelia’s chin, Andrew’s body floated within the precariously resting drop of tea. He was not heavy enough to cause it to fall, but nor did he want to tempt fate again. He didn’t need to look to find out what was below. He could already imagine it. He could already feel himself exploring it, sliding around and traversing it like a mountain climber’s wet dream, in every sense of the word. Was it worth it? Did he dare?

He did.

Despite his lack of air, and lack of blood reaching the proper brain, he began to wiggle, struggle, and fight. There was a prize to be claimed for surviving this long. Two glorious hills of perfectly formed woman flesh, begging to be explored and conquered. He would start by charting a path between the mountainous mammaries, identifying every curve, every freckle, every possible path to reach the twin summits. From there, he would climb, risking life and limb to ascend the unending globes of flesh, rounder and softer and objectively more magnificent than Rachel’s rump could ever hope to be. 

He would circumnavigate the areola, brazenly marking the territory as his own, before conquering the last trial that towered over his head, ready to plant his flag and shout in victory as he stimulated either of the sensitive mounds of perfectly pronounced femininity...Amelia’s nipples.

He kicked and swung, despite the protests of his now discolored and swollen shoulder. He swung his hips around and threw his weight from left to right, anything to dislodge this drip of tea that had so graciously offered him an opportunity to explore his tiny, personal Valhalla. And for once, his efforts bore fruit.

Practically screaming in excitement as he felt gravity take him away, a non-stop journey to the forbidden mountains, he nearly forgot that his oxygen within this single drop of liquid was nearing the point of suffocation. He withheld his scream of joy for this reason, and awaited his glory. He’d land near her collarbone, exposed and giving a perfect shot for the glorious mounds, barely hidden by the thin top Amelia had chosen to wear on such a wonderful day. ‘Thank you.’ He prayed to the goddess.

And, surprisingly, his estimations on his landing point were as precise as they could be. With Amelia unable to act fast enough, his trickle of now lukewarm team had landed just at her collarbone, and seconds later, the ride began. Finally catching his breath, he was given a prime perspective of his destination, the exposed bosom of the woman whose very body he had been exploring. Carried along with the drip of tea, he only wished he could record the moment to remember time and time again.

He closed his eyes, ready to reopen them when he was deep within the valley of cleavage that Amelia had so unintentionally provided for him to appreciate up close. It wouldn’t be long now. A shadow settled around him...he must have entered her top. Next, his pleasure ride would slow to a halt and…

It came to an end rather suddenly, and instead of the warm sensation of Amelia’s breasts surrounding him, he felt himself pressed into a dry, paper like surface, his wet body adhering to it like glue. His eyes opened wide, and horror filled his mind.

A tissue paper. Instead of the unending joy of the luscious, perky breasts that he’d been promised, he was stuck to a piece of tissue paper, as is collected him and the trail of tea left above Amelia’s chest, guided by her fingers.

“NO! No, no, no! God DAMN IT!” He threw a tantrum, slamming his fists into the paper, which no doubt had the support of Amelia’s fingers within it. Thwarted, plans ruined so easily by a quick swipe of a pair of fingers. He was heartbroken yet again, and hardly even registered the following seconds as Amelia dried her chest, then placed the napkin on the coffee table against her plate.

***

Amelia, having chewed only a bite or two of her strawberry toast before taking a long sip of her tea, was startled by the sound of her cell phone vibrating on the table, indicating a text had come in. She felt herself miss the last drop of her sip, and tried to catch it with her tongue before it fell, but missed. Setting her cup down, she reached for the table and snagged a napkin, just as the escapist drop of tea fell to her chest. She wiped it up easily, then set the napkin back on the table and grabbed her phone. A text from Rachel.

‘I felt a few drops of rain...coming home. I guess it’s a short jog today. Could you put on some coffee for me?’

‘Yep!’ Amelia replied back, getting to her now bare feet and heading to the kitchen to get the pot started. Rachel was really having a rough morning, the least she could do was make a pot of coffee for the poor girl. With the remnants of her strawberry toast in hand, she took another ravenous bite and began surfing through the Netflix catalog. Maybe they could watch 300 tonight after all.

***

Andrew lay on the slightly crumpled and used napkin defeated. Sure, he was safe now, safer than anywhere else thus far, but it was bittersweet. Coming so close to a very different kind of victory, only to have it snatched away had really taken the wind out of his sails. He wanted to stay here and just vegetate, pretend that this admittedly soft napkin was actually his bed, and that he was not under the threat of a couple of giant girls and their butt cheeks, sneakers, sandals and mouths. He wanted to really, truly make up with Kate, and then show her just how much he was capable of loving her. 

The thought of it the same situation from moments ago, except with Kate, is what got him started. With no shame and no one to see, he whipped out his manhood. Amelia’s breasts were nice, but Kate was a well endowed woman, and she had no qualms about letting him get hands on with them. He would regularly grab her boobs or pop her bra straps when she wasn’t paying attention. Kate would always giggle and nod affectionately, giving her breasts a delightful jiggle. He imagined her doing that, but with him wandering through the landscape of her cleavage as she did so. An earth-shaking movement like that would be phenomenal. A simple boob wiggle, or when she bounced on her toes and made those fantastic breasts bounce, or that time when she tried to suffocate him under her chest…

Exhausted after his moment of sex-charged fantasy, he rolled over onto his chest, ready to snooze for a few minutes, a satisfied grin on his face.

He awoke at the rumble of heavy, lumbering footsteps. At this size, and due to his extended stay within Amelia’s sandal, he had gotten rather familiar with the cadence of the woman’s steps, to such a degree that he knew that this new set of footsteps he knew not to be hers. Sitting up and still aboard the slightly crumpled napkin from earlier, he pulled himself to a higher fold, and turned toward the door. Making her way inside was Rachel, that vindictive nerd-girl that had gotten him into this whole mess. Well, she didn’t shrink him, he didn’t assume, or she probably would have been more intentional about tormenting him. Either way, it was her apartment, she was responsible for what happened to people while they were here...right?

“HEY! Hey, you giant freak! I’m down here!” His tone immediately shifted to one with a substantially increased amount of vitriol, all of his anger and lust for revenge aimed at the giantess who might as well have just come down from Mount Olympus itself. He waved around the one arm he had that wasn’t attached to an injured shoulder, while pulling himself up to higher and higher ground. Rachel was moving closer, and her books were still on the table from earlier. Eventually she would have to look down and see them, and maybe she would see him too.

***

Amelia stepped out from the kitchen just as Rachel got home, barely missing the rain. With a sad smile on her face, she held a mug of piping hot coffee, offering it to her frustrated roommate.

“Here’s your coffee...you doing okay?” Amelia said, trying to initiate a meaningful conversation.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just annoyed. It’s not even noon yet and today has been pretty shitty.” Rachel answered as she peeled off her sneakers again.

“Well...if you’d like, I was thinking about inviting some of the other girls over and just having a girl’s night in...maybe that would make you feel better?”

“...Oh, maybe…” Rachel perked up, finally accepting the coffee her roommate had offered. She immediately took a sip. “Mm...thank you.” With a sigh, she settled onto the couch. “Who were you thinking?”

“I dunno, Kristin? Liz?” Amelia considered, reaching down to clean up her plate from breakfast.

“Not Kate.” Rachel responded firmly, pointing at Amelia as she took another sip of coffee.

“No, not Kate…” Amelia agreed, as she grabbed the napkin and crumpled it into a firm ball, then began to carry her plate toward the kitchen. Rachel sat up, noticing an untouched piece of toast, slathered in fresh avocado on Amelia’s plate.

“Hey, you’re not gonna throw away that away are you?”

“Yeah, I got full pretty quick, do you want it?”

“Yeah I do!” Rachel grinned, standing up and grabbing the avocado toast, taking a quick bite. “Thanks, girl.” She said, mouth partially full. Amelia nodded, glad to see even a small smile on Rachel’s face.

“Sure. I’m gonna get things ready for tonight.” Amelia responded, disappearing into the kitchen. Rachel pulled her socked feet up onto the couch and tried to relax. Saturday wasn’t ruined yet, despite Andrew and the weather conspiring to do just that. She would have a great day in spite of both of them. A quick swallow and a sip of coffee later, she took another big bite of her toast.

***

Andrew only became more enraged as Rachel moved right past him, without so much as a glance. He continued to hurl profanities at the clueless college girl as she meandered lazily by, taking a seat on the same couch that, not yet an hour ago, she’d flattened him under her ass with. Growling, and thinking of ways he could exact revenge on her when he got back to normal, Andrew should have noticed the shadow of Amelia’s hand coming from above. It wasn’t until her hand had surrounded the napkin that he was scaling that he realized that things were changing yet again.

Amelia’s hand clutched the napkin with such force and speed that he’d hardly been able to comprehend what happened. One moment, he was hatching a plan to fill her car with shaving cream and roaches, the next, he was airborne, hurtling through the sky with no sense of direction or ability to determine it. He had become used to this falling sensation, but previous attempts had much less momentum behind his x-axis movement. 

He landed with a disconcerting squelch, his entire being immediately sinking waist deep into something with the consistency of thick, chunky mud. His torso, face, and hands were covered in it, and he couldn’t even immediately open his eyes to discern what the substance was. Despite being unable to see what slimy world he’d been tossed into, he could smell and taste it. Avocado.

Panicking, Andrew began clawing at his eyes desperately, his one good arm tossing mushy avocado away from his face as quickly as he possibly could. It was slimy and thick, both difficult to get off, but difficult to grab ahold of. After several panicked seconds, he finally freed his eyes, and peered through the mess at a vast wasteland of green, slimy tundra. It stretched in nearly every direction for a mile, except behind him, only a quarter of that distance. The land was littered with similarly green and yellow hills  and uneven terrain, and emitted an earthy, familiar scent. It all came to him at once, he’d been thrown onto Amelia’s avocado toast.

The goddess herself loomed above, his few seconds of panic had been long enough for her to pick up the plate the toast was resting on. He could see her thumb, distant, beyond the toast, but behind him, within an attainable distance, if he could get through this terrible green spread. He had to act fast though, he would need to cover a lot of ground to…

There was an exchange between the girls above him. He, as usual struggle to discern the conversation, and realized he’d been ignoring it for at least the last several seconds. He looked upward, at Amelia, who was holding the plate, then toward Rachel, hand outstretched, fingers stretching to take hold of something. She was reaching for the plate...the plate holding the toast. The toast covered in avocado spread. The avocado spread that Andrew was stranded within.

“Amelia! No! Don’t let her take me!” He screamed up to his deity of choice, his heart sinking to his chest as he felt the exchange take place. “Don’t feed me to that bitch! I’d rather be eaten by you than that fucking nerd!” He pleaded and prayed, feeling his legs grow weary. Everything up to that point was trivial. Crushed under Rachel’s firm ass cheeks...that would have been an acceptable way to go. Smeared against her shorts...less acceptable, but still not unfavorable given the options. Even if he’d been stepped on by her, he’d have preferred that quick death. And of course, still, there was death by Amelia. Being gently crushed under her sole, or smothered between her toes were immensely better than any death Rachel would have caused. Hell, even being swallowed alive and sacrificed to Amelia’s belly, these were all highly preferable than this fate.

Rachel was his nemesis, his direct equal and polar opposite in so many ways. She was the epitome of what he refused to become, the antithesis of his entire being. Death at her hands, feet, or ass would have been a tragic poem. Unfortunate for him, but fair...she’d bested him. This, however, this was not only his loss, but in his death, he would be fueling her existence. His last moments would be the cavern of her mouth, or the pit of her belly. Both would mean being digested and served to her metabolism, enough energy for her to raise her hand and answer Professor G’s question with a cocky smirk, and nothing more. 

“NO!” He screamed adamantly, turning toward Rachel again, to find the situation was more dire than he realized. Instead of taking the entire plate, Rachel had only taken the toast from Amelia’s plate. The entire vessel was now settled in her palm, leaving no plate to escape onto, nowhere to hide. If she were to devour the entirety of the offering, she would devour him just as well.

Her fingers had settled around the edges of the toast, massive pillars that flexed and rotated the crunchy snack until it was supported from underneath, not unlike how Amelia had handled her tea cup. From here, Andrew could see the landscape clearly, her face in the far distance. He was on the far edge of the toast, angled toward her so that the corner was pointed toward her mouth. She wasn’t even going to give him the honor of making it quick, he was going to have to suffer through every bite.

And so it began, the wind whipping through his hair as mighty plateau of bread and spread was carried through the air, toward the face of the woman he had recently learned to despise more than anyone else on the planet. This hellish journey was not like being in Amelia’s teacup, however. Back then, he’d scarcely been able to process everything before he was confronted by her gentle, puckered lips. That experience, though he could not appreciate it at the time, was an invitation to surrender himself to a greater being, and for a greater purpose. He would have welcomed this opportunity now, to take a leisurely ride between her lips, along her tongue, and down her throat, before letting the world fade to black within the warmth depths of Amelia’s belly. No, that would have been mercy, putting him out of the misery that Rachel had subjected him to.

Instead, he was given a full awareness of the situation unfolding, Rachel’s face shifting into view rather rapidly, eyes centered directly on the surface he was stranded on. She was grinning, teeth catching every bit of the light from the room and window, clean, though not pristine, just typical. He imagined her incisors, and how it would be a full day’s work for him to scrub a single tooth free of buildup, and if they even built scaffolding rigs tall enough to thoroughly clean the surface. He would probably need to hire some additional help, someone to sit on the gum line between the teeth and dispose of any residue. A pulley system could work, using buckets to transport the unwanted film from each tooth, and tossing the contents under the tongue to be washed away when she swallowed.

The conceptualizing of a work day, cleaning a single lower incisor in this college chick’s mouth was a stark reminder of how tiny he’d become, a message that was sent yet again as Rachel’s mouth opened. Instead of a quick preview of what was to come like he’d been given with Amelia, Rachel’s mouth yawned open wide to accept her prey, leaving no question on her intent. The cavernous maw was unlike anything he’d seen, a truly terrifying vista that spanned Andrew’s field of vision. The ravenous, clueless girl had put it all on display for him, tongue and teeth alike, a torrid wind blanketing the area like furnace from the depths of hades. He was going there, he was sure of it.

He had not begun to even consider her throat, dark, red, and unyielding in scope...there was no time to ponder its dark mysteries, as the beginning of the end commenced. The corner of the square meal reached its destination, settling in neatly along Rachel’s tongue, before the surface of the toast erupted into chaos. Amelia’s jaws prompted her teeth into momentum, and with a thunderous uproar, collided with the toast with oppressive force, demolishing layers upon layers of baked and toasted bread as they ripped through the surface. It was a cataclysmic event that lasted for much longer in his mind than it did in reality. Rachel’s mouth had taken its rightful place at the top of his list of fears, an all consuming bringer of ruin. A single bite had cemented this in his mind.

The man fell to his knees. He had no more profanity, he had no more slurs or insults, no more will to see vengeance. All he had left was fear. 

The mouth ripped what few rebellious shreds of bread remained away from the rest of the toasted, chunky green field, pulling her meal away a mere inch, before her lips closed around her mouthful. From here, Andrew witnessed the lips slip into a rhythm that mimicked the motion of her chewing. The jaw lowering first, he imagined, her teeth would be slathered in avocado, her tongue shifting this first bite over toward her molars, before the jaw lifted again to complete the cycle, forcing the teeth along the gum line to decimate any morsel that rested there. The lips would follow this motion, sealing tight against each other to prevent any thought of escape from her mouth. Nothing that had gone beyond them would see the light of day again. 

As the first bite was chewed, Andrew looked behind him. The very tip of Rachel’s thumb rested against the toast like a massive, fleshy sentinel, supporting and balancing its weight. It was the same thumb he’d seen when he’d arrived at her shoe, when things were much more simple. Still just as massive, still capable of delivering him from a terrible fate, if he could make it there.

He began to sprint. Or rather, attempted to sprint, but the gooey, heavy avocado spread refused to let him take a full step. Not only was he stranded in Rachel’s breakfast like a bit of seasoning, but he couldn’t move his legs to reach what precious chance of salvation her thumb had to offer. But he wouldn’t give up...not this quickly.

The dense, green, fruit-turned topping gave a disgusting schluck as he pulled his foot free, placing it down gently a step ahead, to avoid having to struggle as much next time. With one leg free, he put his weight into pulling the next free. It, too, resisted for a moment, before schlep-ing out of the gooey green muck. With both legs free, he looked backward to check his progress against Rachel’s next bite.

Sound assaulted his ears like none had before, the full alto of Rachel’s voice was enough to obliterate his ear drums in two single syllables, She had spoken, and like the deity she had become, that was enough to silence and motivate him. The chewing process continued, and he returned to his slow and unsteady pace toward her thumb.

“I can’t let her eat me, I can’t let this bitch eat me...I can’t let this bitch eat me...” He kept thinking, the intensity of his anger returning slowly after watching her first bite. He knew another would be coming soon, it had been easily over a minute since the first assault, and he had no doubt that this meal was not one intended to be long and luxurious. He trudged on.

His next surprise came not in the form of a tumultuous, world destroying bite from the unwitting predator, but instead, the entire world rotating. Amelia’s wrist, below and out of sight, shifted all at once, turning the toast so that the next corner, to Andrew’s southwest, was now aligned with her hungry lips. The quick and unexpected movement sent Andrew tumbling to the ground, splattering yet again into the thick avocado, his head crashing into a large chunk of the remnants of the fruit, dizzying him. He collapsed for a moment, breathing heavily.

A second later, he opened his eyes and peered across the alien terrain of Rachel’s breakfast toward the woman herself.  Her mouth was opening yet again, prepared to accept another mouthful for consumption. The hungry girl’s mouth yawned open as before, and this time he was unable to avoid staring into her gullet. Dark, red, and awe-inspiring, the distant chasm had just enough light to allow clear shot into her throat, unobstructed by even her teeth. Her tongue lay flat and low, quivering gently in its place, prepared to assist in any manner it could to begin the digestion process and serve its master, Rachel’s throat. 

She was clueless. Andrew was positive that had she known how close to becoming her breakfast he was, she would be smirking, or even laughing. She would be taunting him, at minimum, teasing about how fitting it was that he was in her food, after so many times she’d lost her appetite because of him. She would make sure this torture lasted days, not moments. Instead, she was going to toss him into her mouth and chew him alive, and never consider for a moment that she had sentenced him to death between her teeth.

Rachel’s incisors and canines tore into the landscape yet again. A larger bite this time, one that had required a wide open mouth, and more teeth to work at tearing it away from the rest of the food. Andrew could do little but watch from his defeated, prone position on the surface of her toast as the mouth consumed another quarter mile of uncharted terrain, disappearing between the monolithic teeth with a finality. As with the previous bite, Rachel tore the massive chunk away and began to chew slowly and deliberately, keeping the toast even with lips as she did so. The result meant that Andrew was given an unrestricted preview of the torment he was going to be subjected to, with the full soundtrack of Rachel’s chewing to accompany it.

Crunch. Munch. Munch.

The sound slowly disintegrated from a distinct, impactful sound that resonated through the air surrounding them, to a much less defined sound, a sloppier, chewier noise that indicated the slow shift from crunchy toast and moist avocado, to a soggy wet bolus that could hardly be recognized. The thought, sound, and sight of it all made him sick. That huge bite of toast, substantial and unyielding to the tiny person stranded upon it, had been reduced to a sludgy paste just beyond the lips of his captor. This, finally, was enough to force Andrew to turn his head and gag at the thought of such a simple process, now magnified by so many dozens of times.

***

“Hey, Rach’, try this…” Amelia wandered back into the room, holding a small shaker. “I added some of this stuff to my avocado earlier this week, it was amazing.” She handed the small bottle to her roommate, who read the title as she swallowed her second mouthful.

“Paulo’s Creole Seasoning, huh? Sure, I like spicy.” Rachel popped the lid open with her thumb, then sprinkled a liberal amount of the granular seasoning onto her toast, before closing the lid and handing it back to her. After Amelia took the bottle back, Rachel ran her index finger along the edge of the toast and avocado, gathering a taste of the seasoned topping, and casually licking it off. “Mmph, perfect, good idea…”

“Thanks! Want more?”

“Nah, this is perfect just how it is…” Rachel mused, and took another mouthful, chewing luxuriously.

***

He hadn’t moved yet, weak from the lack of food, his current circumstance notwithstanding, still in pain from his shoulder and other various bumps and bruises, mentally exhausted, and emotionally deficient. At one point, as the goddess chewed her meal above, he shoved chunks of avocado in his ear to avoid having to listen to the sounds of her mouth any longer. It helped, but only barely. At least the conversation going on above him had gone from deafeningly loud to just painfully obtrusive, if that was even something to count among his victories.

As he tried to will himself to continue his journey toward Rachel’s thumb, made longer now due to the shift of the toast a few moments ago, a familiar shadow returned to loom over him. He assumed that it was Rachel preparing for another bite, and readied himself for the devastating crunch of her teeth, or worse. Instead, he heard several small thuds, like baseballs landing in mud. Sitting up, he started to look around, only to feel a sudden impact against his skull, leaving his head throbbing. 

“Ouch! What the fuck?” He turned over, half expecting to find another shrunken person with a weapon of some kind trying to kill him. As he shifted, he was struck again, this time in the leg. “Ow! Shit!” He exclaimed, looking skyward for the source of this sudden painful assault.  He could barely discern Rachel holding something high above, but more importantly, realized that hundreds of fist to basketball sized objects were falling from whatever she was holding, all with varying shades of brown, red and black. Additionally, a spicy scent filled the air. It was...cajun? Was this cajun spice?

“You’re...you’re seasoning me?!” He screamed at her. Not only was he shrunken and thrown into her food, but the giant nerd girl was pelting him with some exotic seasoning. The thought of infuriated him, though for a moment, he thought that maybe it shouldn’t...being offended by the notion of his own bland flavor was something sentient food might do. Andrew was a fully sentient, if tiny, human being. He was not food, and he wouldn’t be seasoned like he was!

He prepared to face the onslaught of granular pepper bits, confident that his football training would see him through. As he prepared for the challenge, another bit of seasoning slammed into his chest, knocking him over. He coughed and wheezed, fully out of breath and winded. No...despite what his brain told him, in this instance, he was very much food for this college-aged giantess. There was no fighting against a storm that a deity provided at the turn of a wrist. The best solution was to get down and try to survive it. He prepared to weather the storm of spice chunks, covering his head and curling up in the fetal position. As he did, he could hear the sound of the falling debris landing around him, a few still colliding with him, others nearby. This is what she had reduced him to... a cowering, defenseless speck, trapped in her food, unable to escape a simple piece of avocado toast, fearing sustained, and permanent injury as bits of seasoning fell from the sky like the worst hailstorm he’d ever experienced.

‘Do something!’ He thought. ‘Anything!” But there was nothing. No tools, no help, nothing but his own will and determination to survive.

The storm slowed and stopped as quickly as it had come. The entire situation had lasted mere seconds, and yet no other situation had left him feeling quite this vulnerable. For the first time, since he’d been shrunken, Andrew began to sob.

He’d never been a particularly amazing person. He’d never gone out of his way to help someone in need, or inconvenience himself to assist another. From day one, he’d always approached life from the perspective of a shrewd businessman, or the general of an army...an army of one. It had gotten him this far, and nothing had slowed that momentum until he met this bespectacled blonde girl who wouldn’t back down. She had a fiery energy that rivaled his own, but where he would struggle to get his thoughts across intellectually, she would annihilate him with words and assault him with multi-syllable, hyphenated phrases that he would only pretend to understand.

But instead of trying to learn from her and become better, he would try to keep her down, tell her how pathetic that only partially wrong answer was, and get all of the other jocks to follow suit. He remembered her storming out of the classroom in the middle of class once, choosing to take an absence instead of dealing with the slings and arrows that Andrew and his gang had come prepared to use on her that day.

She was just trying to make it through college, and this rivalry between them had only sparked because he was too prideful to admit that she was just more equipped in the classroom than he was. He could probably destroy her in an actual game of war tactics or battlefield strategy.

He pulled himself up to his knees, breathing heavily, Above, Rachel was glancing off at something in the distance. Amelia, he assumed. Despite his body screaming for a rest, or better, a physician, he hoisted himself up to a full stand and stared down his opponent from across the field. As he did, Rachel turned to cast her gaze back at her food, unwittingly acknowledging his impromptu stand-off. She had every ounce of the upper hand. This was no longer about beating his rival, this was about overcoming the odds.This was a show-down between two warring forces, the battle that would determine the war. Time slowed for a moment, as Andrew considered the thoughts. If he could handle whatever she threw at him next, he could survive anything.

Rachel moved first, her finger colliding with the surface of the toast, the massive fingertip careening through the spiced avocado with the fury of a loose bullet train. She was challenging him, daring him to act on this new will to survive. He accepted the challenge.

Pushing his body like no other moment before, Andrew began to sprint through the terrain, his muscles practically destroying themselves to move against the thick green spread. The adrenaline pumped through his body, pain receptors shutting down throughout every inch of his being, he could no longer feel his shoulder rupturing into worse injury than it had already been endured. His pounding head only provided a rhythm for his steps, his throbbing heart echoing the cadence as he ran.

He felt the ground beneath him tremble as the finger moved nearer. She was close, and he was undeterred. Just a few more yards, just a few more steps…he could do this!

Andrew felt the collision with the wall of avocado in the depths of his soul. Immediately buried beneath the gathering pile of avocado mush, his mind bridged the feeling of a decisive defeat with the taste and smell of avocado in a traumatic romance that would endure the rest of his life, no matter how short. Rolling end over end across the remaining distance, Andrew grabbed wildly for purchase, and lodged himself in a nook of toast, just as Rachel’s finger lifted away, leaving him stranded, once again, on her toast.

That was the last he had, the final burst of energy remaining. His body was broken, ligaments torn, muscle fibers ripped. Where previously he was able to will himself to stand and ignore the pain, his body no longer responded to the requests from his brain. He lay there on his side, unable to find the strength to even roll onto his back. 

He laughed. A strained, feeble sound that emitted from his throat, despite his face remained stoic. He couldn’t even smile, though his brain had no response to the situation but utter, desperate laughter. 

‘You did it, nerd…’ He mused in his head, watching as Rachel licked the finger clean, as though the assault on this land he occupied had been no more than a trivial joke. ‘You beat me. You win…’ In a way, he was proud of her. The newfound respect he’d gained for her in these last moments had shown him an appreciation for surrender to a more capable ally, in order to learn a lesson.

It was funny, really. He came to be tutored by a girl he thought lesser than him, in a subject he felt he excelled in. War was something he understood well, and was comfortable speaking on at length, given the right context and tools. Instead though, the events of Rachel’s morning had taught him something vastly different, and yet so crucial to any war. The art of humility, and graceful defeat.

‘I guess you earned that extra credit.’ Andrew admitted, despite the thoughts being lost to anyone else but himself. It was too bad she would never hear them.

The girl who held his fate lifted her toast back up to her lips, giving them a gentle lick. Subtle and simple, and as the tongue returned to her mouth, Andrew could see her throat bob ever so gently, sending whatever remains had gathered on her lips down to her belly. With little else to do, Rachel opened her mouth and prepared for only her third bite of toast.

With all of the pageantry as before, the mouth opened, displaying her imperfect teeth again. In the vivid light of the living room the dark chasm of Rachel’s mouth was displayed for him. Her tongue glistened gently with saliva, massive strands of the viscous fluid stretching from tongue to teeth, a few breaking in the center as the girl widened her jaws. 

She was still oblivious. Andrew was simply another bit of spice that littered her breakfast toast, just an enhancement to the flavor. He didn’t beg for mercy this time. Nor did he yell, scream, or call her out of her name. She had earned this, for all the times she had deserved to win, and he’d snatched it away with a snide comment, she deserved a clear, uncontested victory. In times of war, sometimes surrender is the only option.

Rachel’s mouth provided the darkest shadow yet, there was no light within this place. As the wide open maw filled his view and eventually consumed it, there was a stillness to his breath. Though he might have been afraid of what awaited for him beyond these last few moments of freedom, he did not tremble. He was prepared for this, a moment that had been building up since the first time he hid one of her class books behind the bleachers. She never found it.

As darkness fell for a final time, the familiar warmth and humidity of Rachel’s breath embraced him. It was a welcome sensation, he’d grown rather cold from the avocado he’d spent the last few minutes wading through. Fitting, he thought, a final warm embrace before death. He had no more words to consider. The teeth that had threatened to rip him to shreds invited him within their domain, and he closed his eyes, as Amelia closed her mouth around his world.

Munch. Munch.

Gulp.

***

Rachel finished the last few bites of her breakfast rather easily, dusting what few crumbs had escaped her appetite to the ground. With a satisfied sigh, she took a quick sip of her coffee and set it on the table, before turning to lounge on the couch, kicking her feet up on the armrest. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, considering what she would do to fill the time before the girls came over. Closing her eyes, she began to drift to sleep.

Sleep had nearly settled in, too, but was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a heavy knocking on the door. She turned to get up, but Amelia was already passing by.

“I haven’t even sent out a text yet, who could be coming by this early?” Amelia commented, glancing at her roommate, who shrugged in response. Amelia reached the door and opened it somewhat cautiously. Standing there, now soaked to the bone from the rain, was a tall, busty redhead, wearing a bathroom robe, slippers, and looking decidedly unhappy.

“...Kate? What’s going on, are you okay?” Amelia said, opening the door all the way to allow the woman inside. But Kate didn’t step inside, not yet. Instead, she cast her gaze across the apartment, until she saw Rachel, who was sitting up to see who was there. Kate pointed at the confused blonde.

“Where...the FUCK...is Andrew?!.”