© Copyright 2007 - Aro - Used by permission
Storycodes: F/f; shrink; swallow; fantasy; reluct; X
I slammed the door behind me, crossed the miniscule space of my dorm single, dropped my bookbag on the floor, and threw myself into bed. For a few seconds I just lay there on my back, then I grabbed my pillow, put it over my face, and let loose with a little primal scream therapy.
Why did it have to be so difficult? When I first got to college, I remember noticing right away that the guys had changed. If you looked past the frat-boys, past the drunken binges every weekend, past the macho strutters, there were actually some fairly intelligent and eloquent men to be found on campus. After going to high school in La-La-Land with the surf-bums-and-beach-babes-in-training, it was refreshing to be able to have a halfway decent conversation with someone of the opposite gender.
So why was it that every time I started to get close to a guy, he'd immediately de-evolve from a thoughtful, engaging conversationalist to a drooling Neanderthal interested only in That One Thing?
Not that I MIND That One Thing. I happen to really enjoy That One Thing, thank you very much. It just seems that the moment That One Thing enters the relationship, all those intelligent talks and enjoyable moments OUTSIDE the bed go right out the window. Maybe it's just me, but it's been uncanny.
My latest frustration was with Jason: my third serious boyfriend since coming to college last year. It had all started when we were discussing our fantasies a few nights before: for the third straight time, the relationship had become something purely sexual, and I was hoping that talking about a related topic might get us back on track and give me a better look inside his head. His fantasies had followed a depressing trend: they were all about places he'd like to have sex, situations in which he'd like to have sex, unusual positions in which he'd like to have sex, and so on.
When he got around to asking me about mine, I decided to give him a stunner.
It was a fantasy of ultimate trust and oneness, I told him, and one that had been with me a long time. It was also completely unattainable in real life, but that, as far as I'm concerned, is what makes it a fantasy.
In my fantasy, I would be with a willing partner who wanted to know me as no being ever has, including myself. I would then use some sort of inherent powers (hey, it's a fantasy!) to reduce this partner to a tiny fraction of his original size. I would take him carefully between my fingers and pick him up, then tilt my head back, open my mouth wide, and hold him over my open mouth. After letting him get a good look, I would carefully drop him inside, close my mouth, moisten him with my saliva, and with a quick gulp, swallow him down. I would feel him sliding down my throat and into my stomach, and know that he was, all of him, inside me. And he would be with me as no one ever has before.
I asked Jason what he thought about this, and he said "Well, I liked it up until the part where I die."
I tried to explain that this isn't about death, or hurting: it's about being one with another person, and being fully immersed in them. As long as it's a fantasy, why does it have to end with death? Why can't this be a loving gesture? My guest would be safe, warm, and well protected inside me, and I would be contented and thrilled by his presence. Plus, the fantasy goes both ways for me, as I've also often dreamed of being the one being swallowed, and wondered how it would feel to be completely inside someone.
He didn't get it. Not only that, but he made some thinly veiled comments regarding my motives for such a fantasy, and on the whole made me feel really wretched for having brought the whole thing up.
That was, as it turned out, the beginning of the end. He never treated me quite right after that, and was only nice to me when he wanted to get me to hop in the sack.
Which brings me to the present. We'd met in the commons for lunch after my afternoon Mythology class, as we often did, and this time he'd been a little too transparent and insistent with his desires. I finally just stood up, told him it was over, and walked out.
After lying in bed for a few minutes, I sighed loudly and got up. I figured I might as well head down to the gym and work out some of these frustrations on the machines.
As I opened the closet, I glanced over to catch my reflection in the full-length mirror mounted inside the closed door. I often did that at times like this, if for no other reason than to make sure I looked as crappy as I felt.
It was then that I noticed the oddest thing. I caught my own eyes in the mirror, but there was something wrong: they were a dark, dark brown color, almost black.
My eyes are green. Says so on my birth certificate.
I froze at first, then carefully turned to study my reflection more carefully. The shoulder-length red hair was mine, the narrow and perhaps slightly too pointed face, the sprinking of freckles, the smile which owed much to those years of orthodontia...
There again was something weird, because I wasn't smiling. My mouth was hanging open in shock right about then, but my reflection was smiling, and those brown eyes were glittering.
"Hello, Autumn," my reflection said, in a voice almost exactly like my own.
I said nothing: I only stared. My reflection continued to mirror my movements as I peered closer, but continued smiling. At length I raised my hand to touch the mirror, and as my reflection's hand met mine, my fingers closed around hers, as though the glass were not there at all.
Startled, I took a step back, but this time, instead of mirroring me, my reflection stepped with me, right out of the mirror and into my room.
"What's going on?" I asked, weakly. "Who are you?"
"Your reflection," she said, simply.
"That isn't very helpful. How- how did you get here?"
She tilted her head at me and smiled. I was somewhat startled to recognize the gesture as one I often made in conversation. "What is important is that I AM here."
I shook my head slowly. "But why?"
Her hand was still clasped with mine, so she gently eased me back across the room to sit on the bed. She then released my hand and sat at my desk. All the while, those brown eyes never left mine. "You are troubled."
"You could say that," I nodded. More to the point, I seemed to be going out of my mind.
"You are misunderstood," she continued. "You feel that no one can understand your wants, or your feelings, or your fantasies."
"Fair enough," I agreed.
"That," she said, standing up again, "is why I am here. I am your reflection, Autumn, and I understand you more deeply than anyone outside of you is capable."
"Why are you here?" I asked again, more weakly. Her eyes were hypnotic, and I could not look away.
She took a step closer, then another. "You fear that your feelings will never be understood, and your needs will never be met. I am here to help you, sweet sister. I will remind you of those feelings the others neglected. I will show you the being of pure fantasy you can be. I will make your dreams come true."
As she said this, she began to dance: to sway hypnotically to an unheard beat, and as she did, she began to undress, while I watched, wide-eyed. First she pulled her shirt up and over her head in a slow, languid motion. It was the first moment that we'd broken eye contact, and my eyes glanced over her. I was certain I had worn a bra that day, but my reflection apparently hadn't followed suit.
Stop me if you've heard this one before, but I feel I should point out that I have never been particularly fond of my breasts. I'm not exactly flat as the proverbial board, but I'm not particularly top-heavy either. My breasts are the sort doomed to be tagged with the adjective "perky" for life, and my nipples are downright tiny, with areolas not quite as big around as dimes. I've always had the feeling they never finished developing, but at twenty, I doubt I'm going to get any more, size-wise, until having kids.
Call it narcissism, but I couldn't take my eyes off her breasts. They were no different from my own, but something in the way she carried herself, in the way she moved, made all the difference in the world. My reflection was obviously not self-conscious about her body in the least.
Still moving to that unheard beat, she kicked off her shoes, unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, then slid them over her legs.
To continue the running commentary, I HAVE always been proud of my legs. I'm fairly tall, and I run quite a bit; these factors have combined to bless me with a pair of long, sleek legs with more than just hints of strength. On the rare occasions that I want to dress sexy, I go for as much leg as possible.
And yet, watching my reflection continue her striptease, I saw more than just strength or sleekness. I saw raw sexuality, and all of it came with her obvious confidence.
It also became apparent that wherever my reflection had come from was not a place well stocked with undergarments, as once the jeans were gone, she was completely naked.
Here, she stepped right up to me, getting my eyes back. "Did you like that?" she asked, smiling seductively.
"How did you do that?" I asked.
"It's nothing you can't do," she whispered, her eyes drawing closer to mine. "You are a being of fantasy, remember? And so am I."
With that, her open lips met mine, and she kissed me deeply, just the way I liked to be kissed. I closed my eyes, then, and let it all go -- the concern, the bewilderment, the shock -- all of it melted away with her kisses.
Her hands found the hem of my shirt, and her lips broke from mine just long enough to pull it up over my head. She then continued kissing me while her hands worked with the clasp of my bra. Once she had it unfastened, I helped her take it off, and then her lips moved down my neck, tracing the path of my throat, eventually finding my breasts. She attacked them with her lips, gently with her teeth, but mostly with her tongue, which felt electric on my bare skin. She continued downward from there, kissing and nibbling while her hands busily unfastened my jeans. She practically tore them off, and my panties right along with them.
Now as naked as she was, I allowed myself to be eased back to lie on the bed. She slid up beside me, and for a moment lay almost on top of me, so that she could look down into my eyes.
"Are you enjoying this?" she asked.
I could not speak, so I nodded.
"Good," she purred, then kissed me. Again, she started with my lips, but then moved down, tracing a line along my throat, then down between my breasts. She paused a moment to kiss and lick the spot just below my sternum before making a run for parts further south, and it was at this point that the electrical jolts her tongue had been given me went straight off the gauges.
Somewhere in the back of my mind it occurred to me to wonder if this meant I was secretly a lesbian, or if this could just be considered a particularly inventive form of onanism.
Regardless, I was completely at the mercy of that tongue. Not only did she do things in ways I truly enjoyed, but she also showed me a few new forms of ecstasy I had never experienced. Nor did the tongue remain in one place for long: she continued all the way down along my legs, making "mmmm" sounds as she tasted my skin.
It was then that I again became aware of a subtle change in the scene. Her tongue seemed to be everywhere: more to the point, it seemed to be covering more of my skin with each moment. Soon it seemed to be almost as wide as my leg.
I opened my eyes to find, to my shock, that the tongue wasn't all that was growing. My reflection was now several times my size, and getting larger!
No, that wasn't it. I was getting smaller!
Before I could even find my voice to protest, I suddenly found myself a tiny figure lying on an immense flat plain, with my reflection a giant, looking down at me with that same seductive smile.
"What's going on?" I asked. "Why did you stop? What happened?"
"Oh, I've only just begun," my reflection said in a low, husky voice that literally shook me. "I know you like no other, Autumn, including your deepest fantasies."
She sat up on the bed, then reached down and carefully plucked me up off the comforter, holding me gently between thumb and forefinger. She raised me to eye level and studied me with those sparkling brown eyes. "Are you ready to meet your fantasy?" she asked.
Without waiting for an answer, she hoisted me up higher, then opened those smiling lips, tilted back her head, and held me above a mouth that was almost as wide as I was tall. I couldn't have been more than two to three inches in height!
I looked down, and for a moment, had a perfect view of her tongue, her teeth, and most prominently, the opening of her throat. I knew that very soon I'd be passing through that dark tunnel and sliding into its unseen depths.
Then she let go, and I plummeted down into the open maw. She caught me between the tongue and the roof of her mouth, and her lips closed, leaving me in darkness. The sheer unreality of the situation gave way for a moment, and I realized that I was about to be eaten alive by my own reflection. Before I could digest this stunning idea (no pun intended), she shifted me to the very back of her mouth with her tongue, and then swallowed.
It seemed at first that I might not fit, but then I was squeezed through that narrow tunnel and found myself plummeting down a slick, warm chute that moved all around me, forcing me further and further along. In retrospect, it was an exciting ride, but at the time, I was too shocked to really enjoy it. At length I reached what I knew to be the base of the esophagus, and a series of muscles opened to allow me to fall into the stomach.
And there I was, as I'd always imagined. Eaten alive, held securely in the warm, humid depths of another person's stomach. Only this other person was myself.
The walls of my new home were in constant motion, which at first was highly unsettling, but once I got my bearings and managed to situate myself, I started to find the movement soothing. The shock and fear were beginning to abate, and the impossibility of it really began to set in. I'd been swallowed whole! I was alive and apparently safe inside of someone!
I then felt as much as heard my reflection's voice as she spoke to me. "I can feel you inside me, Autumn. Did you enjoy your trip?"
I wasn't sure if she'd be able to hear me, so I did not say anything in reply.
"You realize, of course, that you're swimming in a sea of my digestive acids right now. If I really wanted to, I could allow myself to digest you, and absorb you, and then you'd be a part of me forever. That's a darker side of this little fantasy of yours, you know, just like Jason thought. You take someone inside of you and make them a part of you forever. I could do that to you, you know."
She paused, and I suddenly felt a prickly sensation all over my body. Christ, she was actually considering it!
"But no, I won't do that," she said, sounding almost reluctant. "I'll be much happier knowing that you're riding around inside me while I'm getting a look at your life out here. Don't worry, Autumn, I'll keep you nice and safe until nature takes its course."
Something in her tone put me ill at ease, and I wondered what exactly she meant by that. I didn't have much time to consider it before the already precarious setting went topsy-turvy on me. She was moving, and when I got my bearings again, I realized she was lying on her back. Over the sounds of her organs working all around me, I heard a faint beeping. She was using my phone.
After a while, I heard her voice again. "Hello, Jason? It's me. I wanted to apologize. I never should have said those things."
"WHAT?!" I shrieked, my voice echoing off the pliable walls of my chamber.
"Why don't you come on up?" she went on. "I promise, I'll apologize in a way you'll never forget. Okay. See you soon. 'Bye."
"What are you DOING?!" I screamed. "You can't do this!! I just broke UP with that jerk!!" My host either didn't hear or didn't care, nor did she answer.
I carried on ranting and raving for a couple of minutes to no avail, and even started pounding on the walls, but this only served to get me half-stuck in a gooey mixture of whatever it was my reflection had eaten for lunch... other than me, that is.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. "Come in," my reflection called.
I heard the door open, and even muffled by the body of my reflection, I heard Jason's gasp as he beheld this other me lying there naked, in what I have no doubt was a highly inviting pose.
"I'm sorry I got mad," she said in a small, intolerably cute voice. "HowEVER can I make it up to you?"
Jason, true to form, did not say a word. Within a minute, the environment shifted again as he got up into the bed, and then compressed somewhat as he positioned himself on top of her.
The son of a bitch probably didn't even notice that her eyes were the wrong color.
The churning motions of the stomach ceased, leaving me now completely stuck in a half-digested paste. Of course, I realized: during my Human Sexuality class last semester I'd heard that digestion stops almost completely at times of sexual arousal. The absent motions of the stomach soon became replaced by another rhythmic pattern, and I could only lie there, furious, while something that had walked out of the mirror wearing my face screwed the living daylights out of my freshly exed ex-boyfriend.
That torture was mercifully brief (same old Jason), and I hoped that maybe my host would get around to ending this fantasy already, as I had long ceased enjoying it.
No such luck. It was as though my reflection had forgotten I was there. I, however, got to witness the digestive process at work firsthand as she went about living my life for me that evening. From the sound of things, she skipped my late afternoon class to go out on a shopping trip, and the many subtle motions of her body around me gave me the impression that she was trying on (and charging up, no doubt) everything she could get a hold of. All the while, the muscles of her stomach pushed me deeper and deeper, until eventually I was jammed out the other side and into another narrow tube. This had ceased being my fantasy long ago, and this just made it worse: there was nothing romantic or erotic about the idea of being in the large intestine.
That evening, she stopped by Jason's room and screwed him some more while I rode shotgun somewhere in the intestines.
She eventually returned to my room and went to sleep, but I was having a hard time finding rest. I'm not sure how I was breathing, or how I was surviving, but I was. That doesn't mean I was comfortable, though: I was now completely immobilized, and often bent at highly uncomfortable angles by kinks in the plumbing.
Finally, though, I guess I did fall asleep, because the next thing I knew, I was moving again.
Now, I'm not going to give the gory details of this part, because frankly, it's pretty disgusting, and I'd just as soon forget it. Suffice it to say that there was a sudden sense of falling, a splash, and then with a mighty roar, I was sucked down a whirlpool and into an entirely new set of plumbing. My ride through my reflection's insides was complete, but a new ride was just beginning.
Being a runner, I've developed pretty good lung capacity, and I was able to get a lungful of air before I got pulled under. Then I was in the middle of a water-slide that was faster and more powerful than any theme park could even dream about.
It didn't take me long at all to get completely disoriented as I was shot through one pipe after another, around some tight corners which knocked me around pretty good, nearly making me lose the last of my air. After a while, things slowed down slightly, but the pipes were still very full, with no air pockets to be found.
As my lungs began to burn, it occurred to me that I hadn't needed to breathe while I was inside my reflection's body, but now that I was away from her, the lack of oxygen was foremost on my mind. Not only that, but I could tell that I was beginning to increase in size again. If I didn't get to some larger pipes soon, not only would I drown in sewage, but I'd be crushed for good measure.
In the nick of time, just as my vision was beginning to fade to black, I was shot out of the narrows and into a cavernous space. There was plenty of air to breathe at this point. In fact, there was nothing but air. I was falling.
Again holding my breath, I landed with a sickening "gloop" sound in a river of sewage. As I came back to the surface, my growth increased dramatically: within half a second I seemed to just "pop" back into my normal size.
My first thought was relief, but that faded quickly as I got a better idea of what I was wading in, and what I was smelling with every breath I took. Not to mention the situation of being in the sewage system somewhere beneath campus, completely naked.
Before long, I found a series of rungs leading up to the surface, and with a concerted effort, I was able to dislodge the manhole cover up top enough to get a peek up and through. By the look of things, I was halfway across campus, and it was broad daylight out. Making an appearance in my naked and filthy state was not even an option: I was going to have to wait until nightfall and then make my way back somehow.
Which is exactly what I did. I sat in the grimy, smelly sewer for several hours, stewing in my own fury. There was going to be a reckoning for this when I got back. If my reflection had any idea what was good for her, she'd be back in that mirror by the time I arrived.
Finally, when it was dark out, and the foot traffic seemed to be at a minimum, I slid the manhole cover aside, poked my head out, and took a quick look around. I was pretty close to Fryman Hall, where my Mythology class had been a seeming eternity ago. That meant maybe a good quarter mile between me and the dorm.
I bolted for cover amidst the shrubbery, and in that fashion, made my way back: when the coast was clear, I would dash for the next cover. Sometimes I had to sprint as far as fifty yards in the open between shrubs, low walls, clumps of trees, or whatever other cover I could manage. After about ten minutes of this, my dorm was in sight, with a good hundred yards of wide open lawn separating me from it, and eight stories of dorm room windows potentially looking down on me.
I picked out my own room, and saw that the light was on.
After waiting for a few late pedestrians to pass by, I took a deep breath and decided to make a run for the side door: I had no desire to stroll in through the lobby. Immediately inside would be the stairwell door, then a mad dash up to the sixth floor and down the hall to home sweet home.
Keeping my head down, I ran for it. Never had the finish line of any race seemed further than that door. At least I was able to run most of the way on grass, instead of having to go barefoot on concrete.
About twenty yards from the door, I heard a wolf-whistle from one of the open windows above. Damn! Someone just HAD to have been looking out their window at that moment. Even if they knew me, though, they probably wouldn't recognize me in my current state, with muck-matted hair and smeared with grime.
Finally, I reached the door and pulled, ready to duck into the stairwell as quickly as possible.
It was locked.
In a panic, I ducked into the row of hedges surrounding the first floor, cursing to myself. Of COURSE it was locked. It was always locked after dark, and you needed your room key to get in. That obviously wasn't an option.
Staying here in the hedges until morning wasn't much of an option either.
It then occurred to me that Jason's room was right here on the first floor, and I could probably make my way to his window without ever leaving the line of hedges. It wasn't an attractive choice, but I didn't see much of an alternative.
As quietly as possible, I crept to his closed window and knocked. His light was on as well, so with any luck he'd be there, and not upstairs banging my so-called other self.
The curtains parted, and Jason's puzzled face appeared. His expression changed to shock as he saw me hugging the wall directly beneath him. He quickly propped the window open and looked down at me. "Autumn, this is just getting too weird for..." His nose wrinkled as he got a whiff of my scent. "What the hell happened to you?"
"Someone's played a vicious joke on me," I said, very truthfully, "and unless I'm mistaken, she's played one on you, too."
"Who? What are you talking about?"
I sighed. "Jason, can we not talk about it right here? Do you by any chance have an old bathrobe you wouldn't mind getting all mucked up? I'm freezing out here."
He disappeared inside for a few moments, then came back with a threadbare old robe, which he passed to me. "You smell like the sewer or something."
"That's where I've been most of the last two days," I said, throwing on the robe. It wasn't entirely untrue.
"But... I just saw you this morning!"
I stood on my toes and got my face as close to his as I could. "Jason, what color are my eyes?"
He squinted at me in the darkness, his face again growing puzzled. "Green, of course. What does that...?" He stopped, and I could all but see a light bulb appear above his head.
"Could you go and open the side hall door for me?" I asked, letting him ponder over the rest.
"Yeah, sure, I'll meet you there," he said, still baffled.
A few moments later, we were going up the stairwell together, and I tried to explain. I wasn't going to be able to get out of this without lying, so I just went for it. "I have a cousin at UCLA who could just as easily be my twin sister. She came up to visit me yesterday right after... well, after lunch, and she decided to play a little prank on me. She got me so drunk I passed out, and then I woke up naked in the sewer. I can only imagine what she's been doing in the meantime."
"That's crazy," Jason said, shaking his head. "Why would a family member do something like that?"
"When we were younger, we used to like switching places and trying to fool everyone. I guess she decided to try it again. And I guess she owed me from the last prank I pulled on her."
By now we were on the sixth floor, and I peeked out to see that no one was out and about in the hall. I hurried down to my door, and Jason, still not quite with the situation, followed.
The room door, at least was not locked. I opened it and stepped inside, Jason at my shoulder.
My reflection was reclined in my bed, reading a magazine. "Autumn!" she smiled. "You found your way back!"
Jason made a small choking sound. Ignoring him, I went straight for my closet and got my shower kit and a couple of towels. "I'll talk with YOU after I've showered," I told my reflection, giving her my best withering glare. She just smiled in reply.
I had to practically push Jason out of the doorway as I exited back into the hall and closed the door behind me. "I promise I'll have the robe cleaned," I sighed.
"That's okay," he said, still in apparent shock. "You can burn it if you'd rather. I never use it anymore."
"Thanks for your help. I'll settle things with her; it's a family matter."
"Yeah, sure. Um... Autumn, I'm sorry. I really thought she was you."
"It's okay. You're not the first one she's fooled." And wasn't THAT the truth...
He headed back down the hall toward the stairwell, glancing back every so often. He still looked very confused, and I have to admit, at that moment it was very difficult to feel angry with him for anything that had happened these last few days. "I'll call you soon," I said, and meant it.
He gave a little smile and a wave, and then was off. When the stairwell door was closed, I let out a sigh. It probably wouldn't take Jason long to figure out that this fictional cousin of mine couldn't possibly have gotten me drunk and ditched me somewhere in the sewer in the short time between yesterday's lunch and his first meeting with her. Maybe by then I'd have a better story.
One thing I hate about living in a dorm is the one communal bathroom per floor, but at least there are plenty of showers, and the hot water supply is seemingly endless, particularly at this time of night. I must have spent about an hour under the hot spray, just wiping layer after layer of grime away. I washed my hair four separate times, and that finally got the smell out. Finally, when I felt a little more human, I bundled up in the towels (leaving the robe where it lay for now), brushed my teeth, then marched back to my room.
She was just where I'd left her, reading a different magazine this time. "And how was your little adventure?"
"You call that a fantasy?" I said, accusingly.
"Why, Autumn! You know I meant you no harm. After all, I am your other self!"
"I know what you are," I said, darkly. "We just studied this in Mythology. Every series of myths, every faith, every set of gods has someone like you."
"Really?" she asked.
"That's right. You're a trickster, aren't you?"
"Very good!" she applauded, smiling merrily.
"So why me? Why show up here?"
"Because that is why I exist!" she laughed. "As I said, I came to show you the being of fantasy you are capable of becoming, and to make your fantasies come true." She winked. "But also to teach you that you should be careful what you wish for, as every fantasy has its darker side."
"You were a good teacher," I said, taking a step closer.
She swung herself down from the bed and faced off with me, still smiling. "And while you learned your lessons, I had the singular opportunity of being you for a time. Even as you were riding around inside my body, I was, in a sense, riding around inside your life. The pleasures of the body are always to be enjoyed."
"Always?" I said, raising my eyebrows.
"As often as possible."
I smiled slowly and took another step closer. "I have to say, that was one part I really enjoyed."
I unwrapped my hair from the first towel, then unfastened the second towel and let both drop to the floor. "This part," I whispered.
"Ah, this part," she smiled, stepping into my arms.
I kissed her, and as I did, I began undressing her as quickly as I could. The further along I went, the more passionate her kisses became, and it was obvious that she was really getting into it. Apparently her sessions with Jason had only made her even hornier.
Finally, we were both completely bare, and I held her tightly, flesh to flesh.
"You're a quick learner," she gasped, her brown eyes glittering.
"Like I said, I had a good teacher," I growled, and then made my move.
I leaned forward as if to kiss her, but this time I opened my mouth as widely as I could, until it was wide enough to engulf her entire head. Two things were happening, I knew: my mouth was stretching beyond its normal bounds, and she was shrinking in my arms. Soon her feet no longer touched the ground, and as she grew lighter, I was able to easily lift her up and slide more of her into my mouth. The shoulders soon fit, and by then her head was in the back of my throat, which even then was opening to accommodate her passage. I felt her breasts pass over my tongue, and it was all too plain that she was aroused.
The smaller she got, the deeper she went, until just her calves and feet were sticking out of my mouth. I carefully maneuvered to the closet door to look in the mirror, and this time my reflection was just a reflection.
It was then that I swallowed as hard as I could, and I saw the feet disappear between my lips. Inside, I felt her every line and curve as she descended down my throat. In the mirror, I saw my stomach swell outward as she was pushed inside, and I could even see the impressions of her hands, which she placed out to break her fall.
When she had swallowed me, I had been tiny enough to fit in her mouth. When I had swallowed her, she was much larger: I guess I hadn't been able to shrink her as much as I wanted to, but this was just fine. My stomach felt full and contented, and I was fascinated by the movements I could see in the mirror as she squirmed around inside me.
From within, I heard her voice. "Yes, you DO catch on quickly, don't you?"
"You said it yourself. I'm a being of fantasy, and there are two sides to each one."
She repositioned herself so that I could actually see faint impressions of her face and upper body through my skin. "Well spoken, sister."
I ran my hands down along my bloated belly, first tracing her face, then caressing the tiny curves of her breasts with my fingertips. She seemed to enjoy this, but it was obviously difficult for her to maintain that position, as the walls of my stomach were straining against her. Eventually she settled into a fetal ball, and I was able to caress her simply by rubbing my hand over my stomach.
When she spoke, her voice was still its characteristic mix of perky and smug, but there was a catch of nervousness now that had never been there before. "Now, sister," she said, "you certainly don't intend to... digest me, do you?"
I smiled wickedly into the mirror, but my reflection was still just a reflection, green eyes and all. "You know, I'll have to think about that..."