A Simple Plan

If you want to make God laugh, tell Her your plans.


John Crawford squirmed in the darkness as he coughed and spat out the thick, salty fluid that was slowly filling the small space he presently occupied threatening to drown him if he didn’t suffocate first. He had been able to avoid the worst of it, until his prison had suddenly rotated, tossing him sideways. The fluid had washed over him in a wave, leaving him coated in it. The thought of what he was drowning in repulsed him and he was glad he couldn’t see what it looked like. It was bad enough that he had swallowed some of it causing him to wretch violently. Yet he couldn’t help but laugh at the irony, killed by the ultimate expression of femininity. He knew it was no use to struggle, there would be no escape. As he lay gasping in the oppressively hot darkness, the events of the past month ran through his mind. Final thoughts of a doomed man. He satisfied himself that there was no way he could have foreseen this turn of events. Sure, there were many ways his plan could have gone wrong, but this was not one that he could have foreseen. He had managed to get upright when his prison shifted again sending another wave over him. He was now partly submerged in the stuff and running out of air. As he struggled to maintain consciousness, John thought again about the bizarre string of events that would soon end here…

It had been just two short months ago, that Western Pharmaceuticals had been awash with speculation as to the sudden and mysterious disappearance of Mark Johnston, a senior research chemist who had been with the company for a little more than ten years. His office and apartment had been left as though he intended to be back. There was no sign of struggle it was as though he had simply disappeared. The police had interviewed several employees as to what he had been working on and had talked with his current girlfriend but had no motive, no body, and no leads. The case would remain open but with no evidence of foul play the police considered that he had left of his own volition.

It had been a month since Mark’s disappearance and now John Crawford had the unenviable task of sifting through Mark’s notes. His personal effects had been sent to his sister Elaine and the remaining notes and documents had been stored in John’s office. John sat at his desk, running his hand through thinning hair as he stared at a large Staples copier paper box full of documents situated to one side. As Mark’s immediate supervisor, it had fallen upon him to review the material and documentation on Mark’s last project. He leaned back in his chair wistfully thinking about his early days at Western. It was hard to imagine that he was even thinner then but no less introverted. He knew his awkward shyness had led people to think of him as a bit odd. He remembered overhearing mother refer to him as mildly autistic. He had become a supervisor more through tenacity rather than actual temperament or ability to perform the job.

When his mother had passed just a few years earlier, John had wanted to sell the house, but it had been easier just to remain there. It was comfortable and familiar. Without her pushing him to get out more and be sociable, he had become more reclusive, spending most of his time in internet chat rooms. Such was John’s social life. He liked women but had never developed the social skills necessary to relate to them. They seemed as strange and elusive to him as an exotic animal. His few attempts to date women had ended badly. It hadn’t helped that he lived with his mother and over time it had become easier to study women from a distance and interact through fantasy rather than interact directly. John was particularly fond of the many voyeur web sites. In his youth he had actively engaged in the activity until college when he was caught trying to peak through the partially open bathroom window of the Alpha Chi Omega sorority. Nothing had come of it, but the experience had humiliated and severely traumatized him. His curiosity was not unlike that of a young adolescent boy who, upon discovering pubescent girls, attempted to learn more by sneaking a peak at his father’s playboys or older sister while she dressed.

John leaned forward; his attention once again focused on the box of papers and let out an exasperated sigh. It was going to be tedious work reviewing Mark’s notes. He picked up a thick stack of papers held together by a large binder clip and began to thumb through them. Mark’s documentation was sloppy and disordered. How could he function with such obviously poor organization? John thought.

From Mark’s notes, it appeared that his last project involved a cream to reduce wrinkles by localized shrinking of the skin. John wondered why he was not aware of the project and began slowly scanning through the jumble of papers, but the deepening shadows across his office window reminded him that it was getting late. John was about to quit for the afternoon when he noticed a curious note, "Mouse reduced from 5 cm to 0.1 cm. How to reverse?"

That’s curious, John thought. I wonder if he means the mouse shrank or something else? For the next several hours John anxiously read through the volume of notes as he began to slowly reconstruct Mark’s experiments. As the evening wore on, it became increasingly clear that Mark had developed a serum of some kind that caused living organisms to shrink.

John’s mind nearly spun with the possibilities of such a discovery. Then it occurred to him that Mark must have accidentally ingested the serum or perhaps had ingested it deliberately. It made perfect sense. It would explain his sudden disappearance and would also explain why the police had not discovered a body. Poor Mark. John wondered what might have happened to him. Did he continue to shrink into nothingness, a real incarnation of Scott Carey in “The Incredible Shrinking Man?” Or, maybe he had ended up being squished like an insect under someone’s gigantic foot. He had started to dial the detective on the case when he hung up the phone and smiled as an idea formed. It was brilliantly simple. He would use the formula to shrink himself. As a 1-inch-tall person, he would become a nearly undetectable voyeur.

But first he had to recreate Mark’s serum. With such sketchy notes, that would be an undertaking. That night he barely slept and the next day began the task of piecing together Mark’s formula. It was tricky as the temperature of the reagent had to be kept at precisely 95.7 degrees Celsius. After a week of failed attempts, John was ready to give up. Then, just by chance he let the temperature drift up a couple of degrees and it worked. John slapped his hand on the table in excitement. Mark must have made the same error but had not corrected his notes! The next step was to try to recreate the counter agent so that he could return to his normal size. It turned out that was a harder proposition but after a little more than two weeks, he had synthesized it. But out of an abundance of caution, John spent another week testing the formula on rats. All the tests had gone well. He now had the ability to shrink and restore a living organism at will. It was during that time that John had finalized his plan. The office was fairly populated with attractive single women. Since Monique Delvaux had taken over as CEO it seemed as though her goal was to exclusively hire women. But one young woman stood out from the others as being an obvious first choice.

During the weeks that John had struggled to produce his serum, his nights had been filled with vivid imaginings of Renee McCormick. He remembered the first time he was introduced, not long after she had joined Western Pharmaceuticals as an environmental engineer. They were at a company party and even from across the room the lanky Texan stood out. Her dress seemed to hug her body without giving the appearance of being tight and her short red hair framed her narrow, freckled face in a way that looked boyish yet very feminine. She had a reputation for being ambitious and combined with her appearance created a combination of attributes that John Crawford, found attractive yet intimidating. Perhaps it was the fact that he did find her so intimidating that intensely attracted him to her. John was not a particularly introspective man and the thought slipped away into his subconscious.

Since that encounter, thoughts of Renee had haunted John and he often fantasized about her. He would see her in the elevator and wonder what she was wearing underneath her clothes or how she might look naked. He would go out of his way to walk past her cubicle just to see her. Occasionally he would be rewarded with a glimpse of cleavage or see the outline of her panties through a tight skirt or pants. It was those thoughts of her that flooded John’s mind, warping his judgement, as he finalized his plan.

John had to admit that there were some holes in his plan. In actuality, what John was planning was extremely risky and there were so many variables that to even claim that he had a plan was at best delusional. His obsessive desire was such that he could believe that there would be no insurmountable problems. In its essence, John’s plan was simple enough. He would shrink himself to about an inch tall, if he had the ratios calculated correctly, and hide under Renee’s desk. From his numerous trips past her desk, he had noticed that she always put her purse on the floor just below the right-hand drawers. He would climb up the strap and hitch a ride home with her. Then, after spending the evening watching her, he would use her purse to get back to the office where he stashed a small amount of the formula that reversed the shrinking effect. It was truly a simple plan.

John had arranged to take Wednesday through Friday off, and by Tuesday afternoon he was so excited he could hardly contain himself. A little before quitting time, John decided to stroll past Renee’s desk for a final recon of the area and, truth be told, to get a final look at her before putting his plan in motion.

Renee glanced up as John walked slowly by. She was wearing a pale green sleeveless dress. God, she looks good, John thought. He awkwardly hesitated trying to think of something to say, then continued on irritated for his lack of courage.

Renee watched John walk off and then turned to the cubicle across the aisle. “Say Emily, who is that strange guy? I see him come by here occasionally.”

Emily laughed, “Oh you mean creepy John. He works in the cosmetics group. He kind’a creeps out some of the women cause he seems to always be watching them. I think he still lives with his mother if you can imagine. I guess he’s harmless though.”

Renee smiled. “Yah, whenever he comes by, I sort of feel like he is looking me over. But this place does seem to have its share of strange guys.”

“That it does!” Emily laughed as she turned back to her computer.

That evening, though John went to bed an hour earlier in hopes of getting some added rest, he was so excited that he couldn’t quite fall asleep. It was about four o’clock Wednesday morning when John returned to the office complex. Barnes, the back-shift security guard looked up wearily as John approached the front desk and flashed his badge.

"Getting an early start," the guard inquired?

John frowned slightly, "Yes, got a presentation to prepare for this morning."

Barnes waved him past, and John stepped into the elevator. Next stop paradise, he smiled to himself as he pressed 3.

The floor was empty and quiet save for the low hum of the building’s air handling units. Renee’s desk was at the opposite end of the building from John’s office but at least it was on the same floor, a detail that would make the next part of his plan much less risky because John had to remove all his clothing. While the serum would shrink John quite nicely, it would have no effect upon his clothing or jewelry. John looked about nervously as he quickly removed his clothes and stuffed them into his bottom file cabinet drawer. He felt exposed and a bit foolish as he made his way naked to Renee’s cubicle.

Her space looked the same as it had during his earlier recon. He glanced around the cube and thought about how the office spaces took on the feel of their occupants. The fuzzy stuffed orange and black striped cat draped over the top of her monitor, the lipstick stained rim of her coffee cup, as well as the other knickknacks sitting about left little doubt that a woman occupied the space. John crawled under the desk and laughed to himself at the thought of how stupid he must look, naked and on all fours underneath the desk.

There was about a quarter inch gap between the bottom of the cubicle wall and the carpeted floor. John utilized the space to hide the reversing agent near the back leg of the desk. Everything was now ready. He had prepared a small vial of the serum which he now emptied into his mouth. John waited, wondering when the serum would take effect. He had noted that it only took a few minutes in the mice, but their metabolism was much higher.

Several minutes had ticked by with no effect and John was beginning to think his serum was not going to work. He was about to stand when the nausea hit him. It came on suddenly and unexpectedly; a racking pain in his abdomen that snapped him to attention and sent beads of sweat trickling down his face. The sharp edges of the desk took on a blurry softness then everything went dark as he slipped into unconsciousness.

When John woke, he had no idea how long he had been unconscious. He rolled onto his back with a groan and slowly opened his eyes. He was in a vast, open space; a great flat plane that stretched out before him. Fine creases momentarily appeared across John’s forehead as he struggled to clear the haze from his consciousness. Slowly the events of the previous night began to drift back in disjointed fragments. It was not unlike those mornings back in college when he had awakened from a night of drinking not sure whether his memories were of things he had done or merely dreamed.

A movement to John’s left caught his attention and he turned to face a black wall that had not been there a moment before. He gasped as his eyes followed its curved contour and the reality of what he was seeing came to him. It was one of Renee’s black pumps. The serum had worked!

John staggered backward trying to take in a larger view. It was Renee’s right foot. From his perspective, she was monstrously huge, and he began to realize that it was one thing to imagine being only an inch tall and entirely another to actually be it. Worse, judging by her shoe, he was probably no more than a half inch tall. He had overestimated the amount of the shrinking serum to take.

Her legs were crossed with the left foot almost directly above the spot where he had been previously standing. He had been lucky not to have ended up a red spot on the underside of her enormous shoe. Unfortunately, the purse that was to be his ride to Renee’s home was on the opposite side of her. John guessed the distance across to be a little more than the length of a football field. The carpet was a dense, low pile commercial grade stuff that was not unlike walking on a plowed field. John cut a wide circle around Renee’s feet, eventually reaching her purse.

The handbag rose up from the carpet like a small, black mountain. The leather strap, easily the width of a car, draped down across the floor in front of him. John stepped onto the strap and began crawling along its length. It was then that the first of many problems presented itself. The curve of the strap took it straight up then looped back on itself so that the last several feet were facing downward. Luckily, the inside of the strap was stitched where the two edges overlapped creating a kind of ladder that John could climb, at least until the strap curved back on itself.

The strap was far from stable, and it swayed with John’s weight in a way that made him extremely nervous. As he reached the curve, he was about thirty feet from the floor and about ten feet from the edge of the purse. John climbed a little further and was now hanging slightly from underneath the strap. The right edge was closest to him. With a deep breath, John pulled his right leg free from the stitching and swung it over the edge of the strap. The force of the movement caused it to flex in a way that left John further upside down. His right hand barely reached the edge of the strap, but it was enough to pull him up onto the top.

He lay momentarily, gasping for breath but knew he had to keep moving. Renee could decide to pick up her purse at any time and he didn’t want to be caught or worse, fall. The strap flattened out, then curved slightly downward and John had no difficulty traversing the remaining distance. Directly above him was a curved triangular opening where the end panel met the top which curved over and fastened on the side. John grasped the edge and pulled himself up resting on his chest. He peered cautiously inside but it was too dark to see anything. Grunting and panting, he heaved himself over and dropped into the darkness.

He slid down something flat and smooth, landed hard on a cylindrical object, and tumbled forward onto his back. The fall knocked the wind out of him, and he lay dazed trying to get his bearings. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, vague shapes began to take form. He had slid down what looked to be her makeup compact and landed on a lipstick tube.

John reasoned that he might as well explore his temporary home. He slid down off the lipstick and began rummaging around on the floor of Renee’s purse. The smell of leather permeated the stale air. Tumbleweed sized balls of lint and a partially melted chocolate dinner mint the size of a twin bed led John to conclude that Renee was apparently not the neatest woman. John broke off a corner of the mint and gnawed on it. For the first time since early morning, he began to relax. John was bone weary and mentally exhausted. A shredded bit of Kleenex near the compact was too inviting to pass up. John wadded it up into a pillow to rest and soon fell asleep.

He was roughly jarred awake, when the contents of the purse began shifting menacingly about. A lipstick tumbled onto John’s chest, momentarily pinning him against the bottom of the purse. John fumbled about trying desperately to find someplace safe to hide. He felt more than saw a circular opening, and crawled inside panting, his muscles tense with adrenaline. His chest hurt but it didn’t feel like anything was broken. John continued to hear the muffled sounds of objects brushing against the outside of his temporary refuge and was grateful to be safe.

But his gratitude soon gave way to idle curiosity and John began to explore the culvert like tube, slowly crawling further inside. He had gone about thirty feet when the tunnel abruptly ended in a soft, padded wall. At first John was confused; everything was completely out of context because of his size. He rolled onto his side and felt something against his back. He turned, running his hands along what felt like a heavy rope. As the realization of where he was drifted into his consciousness, he felt the culvert shift.

John’s heart jumped into his throat as wild-eyed panic gripped him. There was just enough time to grab the rope as Renee picked up the tampon and removed its wrapper. He looked down at the open end of the tube below, his mind racing, trying to think of a way out. The tube shifted and John was left hanging from the rope looking down past his feet at the dimly lit opening when it suddenly became dark as Renee’s finger covered it. She slid the smooth applicator inside her, and John felt the wall sliding past as she slowly pushed the plunger up to position the tampon and him, deep within her vagina.

John knew that in a moment she would withdraw the applicator, leaving him trapped inside her. Suddenly the opening reappeared below him. Acting on adrenaline and pure instinct, John loosened his grip and began to slide quickly down the rope, the sharp petals of the applicator scraping over him just as he cleared the soft, plump, folds of her labia. Images of Renee’s inner thigh, wisps of wiry red hair, and daylight, spun by as John twirled crazily about. His hands burned as he desperately clung to the rope for what seemed an eternity. Far below he could see the crotch of Renee’s panties sliding up her legs. Spasms racked John’s tortured hands. Unable to hold on any longer, John slipped from the end of the rope. He brushed Renee’s inner thigh and bounced into the soft crotch of her panties, rolling forward onto his stomach just as the crotch slid into place, the stretchy fabric pressing him against her warm, moist flesh.

The earthy smell of her was everywhere, a strange mixture of musk, urine, and perfume. Through the sheer weave of the fabric John could see down Renee’s thighs. Her hands were busy pulling and stretching black pantyhose up her legs. She smoothed them up over her hips and let her dress fall into place about her thighs. It was an interesting view similar to being in a darkened room, curtains drawn, on a sunny afternoon. Her thighs were in deep shadow down to the hem of her dress which could be seen as a dark arching circle cutting across just above her knees. Then below that, the bright light of day, and freedom.

John heard the roar of the toilet flushing then felt Renee’s crotch begin to rock from side to side in a gentle rhythm with her stride. He dared not move for fear that she might feel him rubbing against her in this most sensitive spot. The last thing he wanted was for her to discover him. He was now trapped in the crotch of Renee’s panties and there was nothing he could do about it but wait and pray.

Renee was washing her hands when a voice inquired, Ready for Lunch?" She looked up to see Julie Henderson standing in the doorway. "Well, yah," Renee responded.

"Great because I am, like, so hungry." The petite blonde smiled at her friend. Renee strolled down the hall casually chatting with Julie completely unaware of the tiny man trapped underneath her.

John thought about his predicament and quietly laughed at the total absurdity of it. Trapped in the crotch of a woman’s panties, now that was something he doubted any of his more worldly coworkers could claim. His anxiousness subsiding, John began to take in his situation. He wondered how he would be able to explain what it was like. There was the bizarre view looking down the inside of this giant woman’s thighs, albeit somewhat veiled through several layers of sheer fabric. Then there were all the physical sensations, the heat from her body, the scent of her genitals, and the gentle side to side rocking of her crotch in rhythm with each stride. If it weren’t for the situation, John thought, it would almost be comforting and certainly erotic.

John was beginning to relax when he felt himself, or rather Renee’s crotch, rapidly dropping. Renee scooted her chair in and idly crossed her legs. Flesh enveloped John, plunging him into near darkness. The panty’s crotch seam cut across his chest, biting into his flesh. Claustrophobia had never been a problem for John but then he had never been put to such an extreme test. He suddenly felt as though he was buried alive. He gasped for breath in a near panic as he clawed at the soft fabric restraining him in its silky embrace, to no avail. However, John’s struggles were not entirely without effect. Renee’s soft, fleshy labia began to moisten, and John gradually slipped between the lips and into unconsciousness.

The sound of a loud shriek brought John to attention. His small size made it very difficult to make sense of his surroundings and his mind struggled to understand what had happened. His gaze moved upward in the direction of the sound, and he was looking into the astonished face of Renee McCormick. She dropped him on the countertop with a look of shock and disbelief then bent down to get a closer look at the tiny man.

He was not much bigger than her fingernail and sat cowering under her gaze. "Who the hell are you? And what the fuck are you doing in my underwear?" her voice boomed.

John sat frozen, terrified of the monstrous, angry figure before him. Renee grabbed a magazine from the counter and was about to flatten John with it when he screamed "Please. Please. Don’t hurt me!"

Renee stopped mid swing with a look of surprised recognition. "You… you’re that strange guy from the office. John. Right?”

John slowly nodded his head.

“So how did you get so tiny and what the hell are you doing in my panties,” Renee demanded again.

John’s mind searched frantically for a response. He knew that what he said might literally make the difference between whether he lived or died. He decided it would be best to simply come clean. If he were to do otherwise, she might perceive his stonewalling, or worse catch him in a lie. At this point he desperately needed her help to get back to normal. Had he known her vindictive nature he might have acted differently but given the circumstance he had little choice. He began to describe who he was and how he came to be trapped in the crotch of her panties all the while studying Renee’s face hoping for some sense of how he was being perceived. Her cold demeanor betrayed nothing of use. However, John felt his own face flush with embarrassment as he answered her questions and hoped that she wouldn’t notice his discomfort.

There was a long period of silence after John had finished explaining. Renee’s large green eyes studied him intently. "Let me see if I understand all of this," Renee began rather condescendingly. "You thought I was attractive and had this kind of adolescent male fantasy going about me. Then you discovered this shrinking serium and thought ‘what the hell I’ll see if I can get an eyeful of Renee while she’s undressing.’ Am I right so far?" She continued before John could answer. "Then you became frightened while you were inside my purse and in a brilliant stroke of genius, you decided to take refuge inside my tampon. After being inserted into my vagina and almost trapped inside me you wound up in my panties and that is the last you remember until becoming conscious here."

John nodded sheepishly. "It somehow sounds worse to hear you tell it, but I swear I didn’t mean any harm."

Renee scooped John into a squat glass and looked at him contemptuously. "It sounds worse because it is. You disgusting little pervert!"

She carried the glass with John into the kitchen and sat it on a round table situated in one corner of the room. John watched as Renee busied herself fixing dinner. She didn’t say another word to him and at his tiny size no amount of shouting would get her attention. After several minutes, wonderful smells filled the air and the pangs in John’s stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since nibbling on that nasty mint in her purse. He wondered what she was preparing for dinner and hoped that whatever it was, she might offer him a small amount. He didn’t have long to wonder.

Renee brought the glass over to the stove. Below him, John could see a dinner plate with some salad greens and a hamburger bun lying open. Off to his left was a skillet with what looked like a ground beef mixture of some kind. She sat the glass beside the plate.

"Do you like Manwich?" Renee asked. She smiled at the unintended pun as she scooped a large spoonful from the skillet. “Ever since I discovered you in my panties, I have been thinking of all the ways I might deal with you. I could stomp you, crush you in my fingers, stuff you back into my pussy,” Renee explained as she spread the thick mixture on the bottom half of the bun. “But then I thought, why not just eat you.” Renee tipped the glass upside down, casually dropped John onto the gooey mixture. John shrieked with pain as he sank waist deep into the scalding filling. He pleaded for his life as he struggled helplessly to free himself. "Please don’t do this,” he screamed. “I’ll do anything just don’t eat me. I swear I’ll never bother you again. Please…"

Renee held a pepper grinder high above him and let loose a brief flurry of dark flakes, smiling as she set the grinder down. "Well, you’re right about one thing; you won’t ever bother me again, except maybe for a bit of heartburn."

John’s screams were muffled entirely as Renee placed the top bun on the sandwich. She carried the plate to the table along with a glass of red wine. A lone candle sat near the table’s center. Renee lit the candle staring momentarily at the delicate, flickering flame as the faint scent of vanilla reached her nostrils. John felt the jostle of his prison, then intense pressure as Renee grasped the sandwich and raised it to her mouth. She examined it momentarily, visualizing John’s puny body trapped somewhere inside, then bit off a chunk, carefully chewing it. She swallowed. A second bite disappeared into her mouth as the phone rang.

Renee placed the partially eaten sandwich on her plate and walked into the entryway where she had left her cell phone. "Hello… Oh, hi Monica… No, I was just sitting down to eat. Could I call you back in a few? Sure. Talk to you in a bit. Bye." She hung up the phone and returned to the table. As Renee chewed each bite, she gently rolled it around her mouth, wondering if she would feel him. Soon, the last bite disappeared into her mouth, her fingers lingering between her lips as she licked the thick sauce from their tips. She finished off the wine and daintily dabbed her lips with the corner of the napkin. Her stomach had a satisfied fullness and she thought about the little man who was now somewhere inside her. She was not the least bit sorry. Renee poured herself another glass of wine and dialed Monica’s number as she relaxed into the couch, her weight sinking into the soft, plush cushions.

The throaty sound of Renee’s voice carried into the kitchen as John carefully considered his situation. The second bite Renee had taken barely missed him but had provided an escape route that he was able to utilize while she was distracted by the phone. Luckily, there was a holder full of napkins nearby. It was from this hiding place that John had watched as Renee chewed and savored each bite, marveling at the way the muscles in her neck tensed and undulated as she swallowed. He imagined the location of her stomach below the soft curve of her breasts and felt great relief that he was able to imagine it from the outside rather than experiencing it from within.

Nothing had gone as John had anticipated and the situation did not appear to be improving. It was clear that Renee’s beauty was limited to her exterior. John’s imaginings of a sweet, attractive girl had been obliterated. He could understand her being upset and angry, but it had never occurred to him that she would desire to kill him.

There were no good options for escape. It was easily a 300-foot drop to the floor from the plateau of the tabletop. There was no way he could survive the fall and there was nothing he could use as a rope to climb down. John knew he was stuck for the foreseeable future, but he did have one advantage, Renee thought he was gone and wouldn’t be looking for him. If he could hitch a ride on Renee’s purse or her clothes, he might just get out of this mess.

John’s refuge consisted of a flat, wooden base with vertical rails on either side. A stack of fluffy white paper napkins stood on edge between the rails and John had settled in-between them. The day had been a disaster, leaving John scared and exhausted. Rest was something he desperately needed and, despite his attempt to stay vigilant, fatigue soon gained the upper hand.

Renee unfolded her legs and stretched. It was getting late and tomorrow would be a busy day. A slight pang from her stomach let her know that it was nearly empty. She smiled. In a little more than a couple of hours her body had reduced a disgusting excuse for a man into elemental parts that were now being absorbed into her bloodstream.

Renee carried her empty wine glass into the kitchen. The dirty dishes left from dinner still remained on the stove and table. Renee frowned, annoyed at having to clean up before going to bed. She had started to pick up the dinner plate when something odd caught her eye. There was a spot behind the plate where some of the tomato sauce had dripped and a thin trail leading away toward the napkin holder. Renee’s mind came to the only possible conclusion which she mumbled under her breath: "The little bastard must’ve somehow escaped." Furious, she yanked the napkins from their resting place. John awoke with a dazed start as Renee’s voice boomed in his ears.

"Well… Well… What do we have here?"

John’s eyes widened in terror at the unexpected site of her. He spun around and began to run, so gripped with fear that he did not realize that there was no sanctuary on the flat, open surface of the table. The situation was not lost on Renee who laughed as she dropped her open left hand in front of him. He turned sharply, slipping on the smooth surface, almost sliding into her hand, then doubling back into the waiting palm of Renee’s right hand. Warm flesh enveloped John, gripping him tightly.

"Gotch ya! Looks like your luck just ran out," she sneered.

John was squirming; trying to free himself from Renee’s closed hand when her palm suddenly opened. He rolled onto his back, looking up, into her enormous face. "You bitch! You won’t get away with this," he squeaked.

Renee laughed, "You know… It’s hard to take the threats of a half inch tall man seriously, so I hope you won’t be too disappointed if I ignore you."

Renee raised her palm up to her waiting lips and in one smooth motion, placed it over her open mouth tipping her head back until John tumbled inside. There was the light sensation of him squirming on her tongue as faint muffled screams reached her ears with the strange sensation of coming from inside her head. She rolled him around the inside of her mouth, coating him in slippery saliva much as she would if she was to swallow a pill without water. She had maneuvered the squirming man to the back of her mouth and was about to swallow him when she had an idea, brilliant in its irony.

She spit John back into her hand. “You know,” Renee smiled; I’m thinking that I shouldn’t eat you. I mean, after all you went to a lot of trouble to see me naked. And as you told me you have always been fascinated by women and femininity.” She dropped John into the empty wine glass and disappeared down the hall. A few minutes later Renee returned wearing only a pale blue camisole. The nipples on her breasts protruded slightly creating little points that moved slightly as she walked toward him. Her pussy was lightly covered in a thatch of red hair that hinted at the lips just underneath.

Renee laughed as she reached for the wine glass. “Look at you! Tiny John has a tiny erection. How cute!” John attempted to cover himself embarrassed and annoyed at his body’s betrayal. “Oh, don’t try to hide it, John. I’m flattered that even with all that has happened, with everything I have done to you, the sight of me still turns you on.” The giantess carried the wine glass into the bathroom. Then dumped him out of the glass and onto the counter next to a pink, roughly cone shaped object.

“Go ahead, check it out,” he heard her say. John walked over to the strange object. The material was translucent with a circular band around the opening. It felt rubbery, roughly three times his height in diameter and the same or perhaps a little more in depth.

John looked at her in stupid amazement. “What are you doing; what do you want” John shrieked?

“Just crawl in and I’ll explain to you as I go. Just trust me because I really want you to understand what I’m doing.”

John hesitated. “GET IN!” Renee commanded. “You really don’t want me to force you in, do you?”

John thought that over and decided it might be better to do what Renee asked. He crawled into it and leaned his back against the smoothly curved end and watched as Renee squirted a small amount of a gel-like substance onto her fingertip from a tube lying on the counter. “I think you’re going to enjoy this,” she said as she picked the object up and smeared the gel around its opening. As I was about to swallow you, it occurred to me that I should put you in the most womanly place imaginable,” She smiled at John as he lay in the bottom of the cup looking up. His face betrayed more a sense of puzzlement than fear.

“In case you were wondering, what you are lying in, this is a menstrual cup. I often use it at night during my period. The woman inserts it into her vagina, and it sits up inside her sealing around the walls of the vagina.” Renee held it up to the mirror so that John could see. “While she is wearing it, her menstrual fluid is collected in it. It is simple and leak proof which makes it perfect for night-time. Then in the morning I remove it and dump out the discharge that has collected.”

John was beginning to sweat as it now was clear what she intended to do. His mind raced desperate to find a way out. But there was no way out of this. He sank back into the rubbery wall of the cup waiting for the inevitable.

“So… I guess since you are inside the cup and seem fairly bright, not counting this stupid shrinking idea, I guess you understand where you’re headed,” Renee smiled. “In a moment you are going to experience firsthand what it’s like to be a woman. I suspect it will quite literally give you a whole new perspective.”

Renee folded the circular opening flat, then folded it again so that it resembled a “C” shape with John trapped in the bottom. “You barely escaped being inside me before, now I think it’s time for you to discover what you missed. I hope the little voyeur thrill you had was worth it,” she hissed.

She used her free hand to spread herself open then angled the cup slightly as she slid it gently up inside her, letting the rubber pop back open to its circular shape, sealing itself against her vaginal walls. “Well that should take care of him,” she said to herself as she removed her fingers and washed. She had initially thought of just pushing him up inside her and sealing him in with a tampon. But he would have suffocated inside her almost immediately. The beauty of this she mused, was that it created an air pocked so that he would live long enough to be coated in her discharge and most likely drown in it. The idea of him drowning in her menstrual flow appealed to her.

Renee slipped on a pair of cotton panties, crawled noiselessly into bed, and let her back rest against the headboard. She picked up a book from the nightstand and flipped it open. She was near the end of the novel and wanted to finish it. But after a half hour she was struggling to stay awake. With a sigh, she placed the book back on the nightstand and turned off the light. In the quiet darkness Renee imagined that she could feel her little captive down there squirming inside her but was not sure if it was real or just her imagination. As Renee drifted off to sleep, she remembered that John had implied that he had more of the shrinking potion in his desk. She would have to check that out in the morning.


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