You guide the chute as low as you dare and then flip up your helmet -- you don't want any of that scalding liquid to get inside. A couple slashes of your field knife snaps the straps and sends you tumbling down toward the steaming brown lake. You spash down in a rippling island of cream and instantly feel the heat even through your envi-suit. When you resurface you view your new macroscopic world through your streaked visor. Never have you felt so tiny and insignificant.
High above, your still burning chute continues its trek through sky (little more than a burning napkin, on alien scale), while below it, but still far above you, the secretary is a mountain (on your ordinary scale). She swings her cigarette poofing smoke from the red rimmed volcanic crater of her mouth. Tapping it in the ash tray, she reaches her free hand in your direction. You start to paddle toward the far end of the cup, but its too late.
You spent too long gawking at the scenery and now the tide is pulling you backward as she tips her glass. At the close of a current of hot coffee, the Giantess's red lips pucker, slurping liquid at the rate of an oceanic fissure. As you draw nearer you note the teeth on the other side, stained yellow by consistent smoke. Each coroded incisor is your equal or better in height and the molars behind are probably as big as hover-jeeps.
You don't ever get to close to any of her teeth, however, as the liquid carries you into her mouth and over her tongue. Darkness swallows you along with a humidity only equaled by tropical rain forests. It fogs your visor but a couple clicks of the controls on your wrist initiates both the front lamps and the wipers. The former shows a fuzzy red orb, while the later clarifies it into a dangling uvula. You begin paddling with more desperate force aware of what its dangling over, but the current only intensifies. Behind you the plaque pasted portcullis lowers banishing all light but your own lamps. Beneath you, the tongue arches up sending you down her throat in a wave of coffee, that sounds like a whirl pool, but must be a swallow. For a moment you tumble through empty air, but then you feel her esophagus tightening around you, its sticky walls slowing your descent. Once you're stabilized your beams show an endless red tube leading into down into darkness. Its folded walls are pushing you along in squelching waves, each one advancing you closer to her stomach and coating you more thoroughly in alien mucus.
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