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    @mrgoblinging7 Probably a dare. Betcha can’t down a whole one alive! GULP Whoops, guess we have to find a new Tracy.
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    Mrgoblinging7M
    Love that third one, so moody!
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    @olo Haha silver (stomach) lining
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    S
    @mrgoblinging7 omg so hot
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    Mrgoblinging7M
    @i-am-insane Oh shit, really!? I couldn’t find a source for it. I feel kinda stupid now if that’s true.
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    @annexia666 Why were you banned?
  • Feeding Time

    Artwork 2d artwork giant non-con nudity shrunken woman vore
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    Mrgoblinging7M
    I have a feeling that he goes through tinies faster than most because of his lack of impulse control.
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  • Hug a Tiny Day

    Artwork 3d artwork giant handheld nudity shrunken woman vore
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    tiny-ivyT
    @olo Sure! I trust you! For some reason!
  • Tight shirt, Thicc body

    Artwork vore growing giant
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    TinyT
    A new update. http://textadventures.co.uk/games/view/9cnzlnfot0ktfo8z8e923g/puny-princess-problems Changelog: 0.06 -Instead of timers, the game now operates in turns. This is because many people complained about the timer causing bugs or happening when they were still reading. The game starts at turn 0 and turns are advanced by either entering a new room or by typing the command “Wait”. (Note that climbing certain objects might also pass the time). Events happen when a turn hits certain numbers (such as 20). -Implemented a Wizard who you can actually talk to. He gives you a mission and, once completed, you can even talk to him. Note that this is the skeleton for more content with him in the future. -Placed a comb in the bathroom that actually leads to the new deaths in the game. 5 deaths specifically. -Fixed some bugs, corrected some typos, and arranged some things to prepare for future updates. The temporary walkthrough that is very bare-bones: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1nYMSuh_scIjHPFteUud8xZsPmxtZbbCsN1e-LmVABrw/edit?usp=sharing
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    OloO
    Chapter Five It was the most intense climax I had ever had. It felt as if Pet had seized me by the prostate and was squeezing every last drop out of me. As dire as Pet’s straits had been lodged between my ass cheeks and balls, she would have been in far greater peril between my surging cock and manic grip. I again wanted to relax in the afterglow, but Pet’s repose was less than secure, so I stayed slouched while I reached around my thigh and gathered her into my grip. I clasped her to my chest and kept my hand over her as she lay atop my pounding heart. She only moved to fill and empty her lungs, her fluttering breath tickling my skin. I simultaneously wanted to hold her tight and give her the room to stretch and breathe free. Both of us were sticky, and neither of us smelled fresh. “Let’s take a real bath, Pet,” I said. Not a word was spoken as I eased us into the warm, soapy water. I was quite content to watch Pet glide between my legs, pull herself up by my cock, and stretch herself out on my thigh. She knew she had been a good girl, and she only had to look into my face to be reassured. Dinner that night was beef and vegetables stir-fry with rice. I decided to have a beer, and Pet accepted a dropperful in her mug. Tomorrow I get her dining stuff, I resolved. Toward the end of the meal, after I had nearly finished my beer, Pet surprised me again. “Sir,” she asked, “what does it feel like to have someone in your mouth?” “Blissful,” I said without hesitation. “The world collapses until you are only aware of the sensations of the tiny person contained within you, totally at your mercy and open to your appetites.” I had no idea how long I had been waiting to tell that to someone. Pet considered this, and she didn’t move—not even reflexively—when I leaned down to bring my face close to her. “What does it feel like to be in someone’s mouth?” I asked recklessly. She tilted her head and gave me a stare I had never before seen from her at this size. She seemed to think that was sufficient response, but I didn’t know what to make of it. “C’mon, Pet,” I pressed. “It’s fucking terrifying, whaddaya think?!” she exploded. She was so agitated that I thought she only kept her seat as a way of suppressing the instinct to flee. “I got the impression that you liked it,” I said deliberately, trying not to provoke her further. “What else was I gonna do? Dude, I’m four inches tall and I have no idea how to get back to normal!” she cried. “My life is basically over.” She crumpled in on herself, sobbing. She’s as surprised by herself as I am, I thought. She knows she shouldn’t have asked me that first question, but her curiosity got the better of her and now we’re here, grieving her old life. Only way forward is through. I reached forward and she didn’t notice or react as I gathered her into my grip and brought her close. I tried to keep a soft but solemn expression as I lightly stroked her back with the tip of my middle finger. She continued sobbing, eventually burying her face between my thumb and forefinger, right where she had bitten me the day before. I was at a loss, and I dared not say anything just yet. It was going to take her more than a day to process this, and what she needed from me was consistency. Reliability. Practicality. I couldn’t put her to bed like that, so I simply waited until her sobs had subsided. She raised her head to look at me, and I saw it: a pleading in her eyes, an honest hope that I could provide an answer. “So start a new life,” I said, and put her to bed. I didn’t sleep well. My worries about Pet were scattered and intangible, so I ended up focusing on whether I really wanted to give her sharp utensils. I couldn’t come to a confident decision about that. Pet was more composed at breakfast; she was even forward enough to ask for sugar for her coffee. Without any premeditation, I added some sugar to my coffee, too, and for once I found the sweetness charming rather than cloying. “Sir,” she asked, “how did class go yesterday?” I did my best to conceal my frustration. I really didn’t want Pet dwelling on her old life, particularly something as pointless as a 100-level Poli Sci class. At the same time, her question expressed polite concern for the only other person in her new life. I dared not injure that. “Same ol’, same ol’, Pet,” I replied. “Do you want my help with the presentation, Sir?” It was, in fact, due in two weeks, and just that morning I had already gotten a text about it from Jeff. “You don’t have to worry about that stuff anymore, Pet,” I said as kindly as I could. She was clearly trying to find something in the future to focus on. “I have to go to work this afternoon, Pet,” I said, “but before that I’m going shopping. I’m gonna get you a new bed, chair, and table, all exactly your size.” She wasn’t expecting that, and it took her a few moments to say, “Thank you, Sir. Thank you.” It sounded sincere enough. High on my own generosity, I plunged ahead. “Howabout some books or magazines?” I offered. “Would you like some of those?” “My, my size?” she asked skeptically. “Of course, I can make anything your size.” “Uh, yes, yes Sir,” she said, gaining earnestness with each syllable. “Thank you, Sir.” “Any ones in particular?” “You choose for me, Sir.” I could hear the smile in her voice. It was an excellent note on which to end breakfast. My heart was light as I showered, dressed, and headed out. Work was as tedious as usual, but kept myself going by imagining Pet’s reactions to all the presents I had gotten for her. As a celebratory treat, I also picked up fresh ingredients for Chicken Parmigiano and a California red that I liked. I had left Pet with the same chunk of cheese for her lunch, and I hoped she hadn’t made herself too full for dinner. When I entered my kitchen, she was lying on Rosa’s too-small couch. You’re gonna love this, Pet, I thought. I set my satchel on the floor next to the kitchen table and sat down. I opened the satchel clasp and flipped the cover back, then turned to make sure Pet was watching. “Are you ready for your presents, Pet?” I fairly sang. Pet hadn’t moved from the couch, and I wondered if she had been more fatigued than I had realized. Even though the couch was beneath her scale, she really looked darling curled up on it. I think I’ll let her keep it. I brought my face right next to the plexiglass. “Yoo-hoo,” I called softly. I thought I would be disappointed when Pet opened her eyes and failed to be startled by my looming face, but instead I was relieved when she returned my smile. I’m glad to be home, too. The first item I presented Pet with was a new bed, queen-sized just right for my lilliputian Queen. No sooner had I placed it in the terrarium than she stretched herself out on it, just as I had envisioned in the department store. “Pull back the covers,” I said with anticipation. Pet promptly did so, running her hand across the fine sheet underneath. Also for the terrarium was a high-backed easy chair with arm rests for reading. For the kitchen table was a cushioned dining chair and table. Her plates, bowls, drinking glasses, and utensils had all come from a thrift store, all shrunken afterward. I had hesitated over the serrated steak knife, but in the end I had decided I would have to risk a little trust. The books and magazines required more inspiration. I resisted the urge to get her all the nerdy sci-fi I was overfamiliar with, but I did sample some well-regarded authors: Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman, Ursula LeGuin. I really had no clue what kind of magazines to get, beyond those with hi-res photos. I picked up issues of National Geographic, Vanity Fair, and Food & Wine. Pet accepted the books and magazines in the spirit intended, and while she perused them I set about getting dinner ready. The trick was starting the pasta first because it was more easily interruptible than the chicken. I opened the wine early, and we both had a sip or two before we were finally ready to sit at table. I didn’t shrink any stemware for Pet because she would be washing all her own dishes and I didn’t want her to have to worry about breaking it. I’m gonna need more eye-droppers, I thought. The chicken and sauce turned out perfect, and I was pleased to see Pet eating heartily. I poured myself another glass of wine, but Pet declined a refill. “Sir,” she asked, “Is this to be my new life?” I nodded with my mouth full, chewed, and swallowed. Pet rested her hands in her lap with a forlorn expression. “I’m just your pet,” she said softly. “Just your sex toy.” Finally, I thought. “Yes,” I said patiently, “you are my Pet. Mine and mine alone.” “Why me?” The question hung in the air while I fished a sliver of chicken out from between my gum and cheek with my tongue, scrutinizing her. Because your bountiful hair snared me with its sprays and scents. Because your round ass and thick thighs lured me with their tautness and texture. Because your wide cheeks and smile enchanted me with their audacity and openness. Because your bouncy breasts and belly seduced me with their curves and capacity. And because your deep eyes intrigued me with their awareness and appetites. “Because I wanted to take you,” I said finally, “and I had the power to do so.” I saw Pet open her mouth for the next question, but the warning in my eyes made her think better of asking it. I refilled her wine glass with the eye-dropper. She took a sip and looked around at the giant kitchen that had become her home. “How long do you plan to keep me, Sir?” she asked plaintively. “As long as you are happy here,” I replied sincerely, “which I hope is a very long time indeed.” I returned to my meal but watched Pet out of the corner of my eye. She picked up both her utensils—including the sharp knife—but she only paused a moment before cutting her chicken again and taking another bite. When we had both finished our dinner, I cleared and rinsed my dishes and filled a small wash basin to soak Pet’s dishes until she could get to them later. I then retrieved the small couch from the terrarium and set it on the kitchen table underneath the magnifier lamp. It was time for Pet’s final present. She remained seated at her dining table as I got up and went to my jacket to collect a small tub of coffee creamer from the pocket. The seal was slightly open from when I had emptied it before I left work. I sat back at the table and set the creamer tub next to the couch. I pulled the seal back all the way, removing it, then beckoned Pet to approach. I was pleased to see from her gait that she retained some curiosity about my acquisitions. The top of the tub only came up to her knees, so she knelt and peered down into it. Her head snapped back up, her eyes searching my face for affirmation or explanation. I smiled and nodded, and she looked back down and reached into the tub. When Pet withdrew her arm, her fist was clutching a fellow who had woken up that morning at least six feet tall but was now less than an eighth of an inch tall. I had been concerned that I would injure or kill him when I used the tweezers to pick him up from the restroom floor, particularly as he had been trying to evade me. Next time I should put my finger over the end of a straw and use the force of vacuum when collecting micros. Gazing through the magnifier, I saw the expression of amazement and delight spread across Pet’s face as she brought her toy close. She chuckled as the microscopic man struggled in vain to escape her grasp. “You wanted to know what it was like,” I said gently, trying not to intrude too much. Pet raised her face to me with an appraising expression I had never seen before. It was almost as if we were seeing each other for the first time. “What’s his name?” she asked. “I didn’t ask,” I said. “Why don’t you give him a name?” She smirked and looked at her toy. “He looks like a Dick,” she said. “‘Dick’ it is,” I proclaimed. “Hi, Dick!” she chirped at her toy, grinning irrepressibly. Dick’s struggles became even more animated. “Be quiet,” she said testily. Pet looked back to me. “What should I do with him?” she asked with a leer. “Do whatever you like,” I replied, “so long as I get to watch.” Pet turned her full attention to Dick. She sat on the couch and set him down in front of her. She folded her hands in her lap as he got to his feet. “You have been irreversibly shrunk,” she said with the imperiousness of a vice principal. “You will live out the rest of your days as my toy.” Dick’s protests were inaudible to me, but Pet cut them off. “Remove all your clothing now,” she said bluntly, “or I’ll break your neck.” I knew she could feel my scrutiny, but she kept her impassive eyes on her plaything as he undressed. When he was completely nude, she plucked him by one wrist and dangled him in front of her face. Dick’s legs flailed furiously as Pet’s mouth opened. Her tongue darted out and lapped between his legs, then returned to her palate for the savoring. Her face split into a triumphant grin, and my heart warmed with pride. Pet opened her jaws even wider, and I could see her shudder with excitement as she slowly brought Dick over her waiting maw. I couldn’t hear his screams, but it was clear Pet was enjoying them. Then she let go and he dropped into her mouth. She caught him with her teeth about his chest and back, and one of his arms was still free to press and pound on her upper jaw. I thought she might have bitten down when she smiled at his predicament, but I couldn’t see any blood. Pet shut her eyes and puckered her lips around Dick’s neck, and I could see her tongue pulsing in her throat. She took several deep inhalations as she savored his struggles between her lips, then she dutifully raised her face to my gaze. I wish she could have seen his wide terrified eyes as she sucked him entirely inside. From that point I could only discern what was happening with Dick from Pet’s expression and posture. She kept her eyes closed and lay back on the couch, and when she put one hand to her chest I thought she might have swallowed him. Her breathing was very shallow and her face was quite still. Her throat muscles, however, were still twitching and I concluded that her tongue must still be having its way with him. Finally, Pet tipped her head back and I saw the bulge of Dick’s passage down her throat. There was nothing to do or say, just breathe and imagine the sensation of Dick filling Pet’s stomach and meeting his doom. When I took Dick I had had no firm idea of what would happen to him, but in retrospect it seemed inevitable. Pet had disposed of him rather quickly, but I had surprised her and she hadn’t had time to contemplate anything more elaborate. Look at you. What must you be feeling right now? Her eyes were still shut, and her lips were tightly pursed. Her hand was still at her chest, fingers splayed wide. I had to hold her. Pet opened her eyes but did not otherwise react when I gathered her up in both hands and brought her close. I closed one thumb over her belly. I couldn’t detect any movement, but she smiled satisfactorily as she placed both hands on top of my thumb. “Well,” I asked, “how was it?” “I get it now,” she replied after a moment. “This is the way of things.” There was nothing to do but kiss her, right on the front of her head from the bridge of her nose to her crown. “Who was he?” she asked after I had brought her back under my gaze. “Just some rando, minding his own business,” I replied. “So an innocent person, then.” “I don’t know about ‘innocent’.” I might have taken him because he was tall and he looked like he took it for granted, but that didn’t matter to Pet. “He didn’t do anything wrong to me, if that’s what you mean.” “You just took him because you could.” “And because it pleased me to give him to you.” Pet looked up at me for several moments with an inscrutable expression. I felt judged, and I welcomed her judgment. I craved it, in fact. She let out a deep breath, and a rueful smile crept across her face. “I can see why you do it,” she admitted. I channeled my relief into a broad smile. As much as her sympathy meant to me, however, her happiness meant more. I started caressing her over her clothes with my thumb on her belly, making wider and wider circles until it was fondling her boobs and pressing on her crotch. My tongue stirred insistently. I sought one last affirmation from her, but I was in no position to request it. In the end, I let my eyes speak for me: You are mine to play with, and I will never let you go. Pet lay back in my hands and raised her arms until they rested above her head against my fingers. She relaxed her legs and let my molesting thumb nudge them apart. Her breathing was deep and even, and her heartbeat felt strong. Her lips were skewed enigmatically, but I had no doubt what her eyes were saying in reply to mine: I am yours. HERE ENDS VOLUME TWO Many, many thanks to @Taedis for her assistance with this story.
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  • Little Nibbles Café

    Stories handheld nsfw oral shrunken woman snuff vore
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    HHunter1H
    Hope no one mind that I added to this story this week. Just had an urge to. That is the great thing about having so many stories rolling about in my head. When I’m uncertain what to do in other stories, sometimes clears up what I’m doing in other stories. As the title shows I’m not sure if this will be the fourth chapter or not, as I am jumping about a bit with this one to keep it light. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think. Also, don’t forget, if you can and would like to. You can support me at my Buy Me A Coffee page, Link below. Green Status and higher have access to a Members only story there. Thank you. CH ?04:Will’s Self Challenge M/f,f,f Vore only I take a deep breath. If I’m going to work for this place I need to be able to do this. I will need to have lunch at Little Nibbles Café. And I’ll have to eat everything on my plate. Or more my issue, everyone on that plate. Little Nibbles Cafes have a unique menu. Every dish has one or more tiny people incorporated into them. Wrapped in noodles, draped across meat, clad in pastries these little people were part of the meal. One the guest could devour, and for many of them that was the attraction to these private restaurants. Or if they were inclined a guest could ask for a doggie cage and they could keep the tiny person as a pet. I have that urge. The want to keep them. Since I’ve only been served pretty young women. But I have to accept that these little people are mainly intended as food. I am being a touch deceptive to myself. These tiny people are actually marvelous little clones. They have all the memories, hopes, and dreams of the person that they are a copy of. Including the want to not be eaten by some giant person. Though their bones are closer to hard cartilage than bones when they are served, they don’t know that and move and squirm just like they would if they were the real person they resemble. To make this more appealing Little Nibbles Cafes make their little bodies more to the guest’s physically ideal. In my case, more physically fit, like little fashion models. Making it even harder for me to eat them. As I rather touch them then digest them. My friend Jim is a board member in this secret chain of restaurants and he wants me working as an Internal Accountant. I can’t do that with a clear conscience if I’m not willing to partake in the main purpose of the restaurant. Sure if I can get through this I will likely still doggie cage most of my morsels over eating them alive. But it will mean I accept the culinary death I’ll be helping to run smoothly. I step into the plain gray door and look at the ornately carved wooden doors hidden from public view. I’m a member, thanks to Jim. Platinum member even as a friend of a board member. My nerves are just jumping. Like I’m about to have a lion jump at me. Yet I know I’m not in any danger. I just have to slip my membership card into the card slot and the door will click to allow me access. My arm reaches my hand out and the card slides in. An audible click and I open the door. Jennifer, shit I forgot to call her. Why didn’t I call her, she’s gorgeous. “Hello Mr. Jackson, on your own today?” she says to me in a cheery tone. “Yes,” I answered. Unnecessary I clarified, “I need to see if I can handle actually eating the little people that are part of my meal.” She smiles as she corrects me, “Accents, they are accents of your meal.” “Sorry, right Accents.” I accept my mistake. She grabs a menu and advises, “Follow me. I’ll find you a private spot to test your plate. Still not comfortable with the idea of eating Accents?” “No, I can’t quite get past the idea that they are little people. Might be my fault for taking so many home the other night.” I suggest. She looks over her shoulder at me as she notes, “This might not help, but for some guests that idea is all the appeal.” “Yeah, it was a rush when I first did it. But now that I have been thinking about it, I can’t shake the idea that when I ate those women. I ended their lives.” I explained. “They have no lives but to be eaten or otherwise enjoyed. If you didn’t order your meal they wouldn’t be brought to life in the first place.” She says and that actually helps some. “So, they only live to be eaten.” I reply as she points me into a small booth. “Exactly, like chickens.” She says happily. I had to explain why I hadn’t called her before she went back to her podium to lead the next guests to their table, “Look, I’m sorry I haven’t called. I just got out of a long term relationship. And I’m just a little out of practice with the whole dating thing.” “I understand.” she replies before suggesting, “So to make it easy on you how about this. My friend is having an exhibit of their art on Thursday at a little independent gallery. I’ll be going to Galbraith’s for a light supper at about five thirty. If you happen to be at Galbraith’s about that time we could eat and go look at their paintings together. If your not ready yet, I understand.” How was I this lucky? She was gorgeous. Maybe I’m so hesitant because she’s nearly half my age. But, she’s made the first move. It’s not like I’m a creepy old guy hitting on a girl barely old enough to vote. She gave me her number of her own accord. “I might need to look at some art come Thursday.” I tell her and she smiles warmly. “A touch of advice for this experiment.” she replies pointing at the table and twirling her finger. “Order one of the sandwich combos and a drink. That’s only three Accents. Also, ask the waitress to select off your list. So they will not be familiar to you. Yet with your data they will still be able to get you Accents that are appealing to you. So it should be a little easier for you to handle. Worse comes to worse, you have three new pets to enjoy at home.” “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” I replied. I didn’t know that was an option. “Hope to see you Thursday.” Jennifer said before turning to walk back to her station. The view was certainly making dinner at Galbraith’s on Thursday sound like a better and better idea. I sat and opened my menu. It didn’t help that the pictures of the meals showed them Accented. Half little men and half little women, likely to appeal to whichever preference the guest has. I skip the appetizers and I’m disturbed by the Tots Toss Salad. Then snicker at the Chick/Hunk Noodle soup. Yep, each meal was male-female labels with a helpful little note at the bottom of the menu that clarified that the mixing of Accents was an option. Well, at least they were inclusive in their cannibal cuisine. A pretty young brunette came to my table and began filling my water glass. As she did she said, “Hello Mr. Jackson. I’m Tammy, your server. Are you ready to order or would you like a few more moments?” I had to remember I was a platinum guest. That’s how she knew my last name and had to call me by it. Jim wanted me to have all the perks. “Not yet thank you Tammy. Could I have a shot of rum un-Accented? I’m still getting used to the concept of this Café.” “Certainly Mr. Jackson.” She said with a little bow and went to the bar. Some of the options I could understand how they worked. Added Accents on salads or bacon wrapped and draped over a steak. But the Breaded Chicks as a Burger or the Deep Fried Babe in Ice Cream just defied my imagination. How could they cook those with the little clone inside and not kill them? I made it to the Lunch Fare part of the menu. Chick Club sandwich, Hottie and Cheese, Cucumber Cutie, Cold Cuts Cuties, each had two accents on a sandwich that was divided in two and made sense to me. But The Grilled Chick or the Meat Doll sandwich were both confusing. Both would require the Accent to be cooked as part of the sandwich wouldn’t they? Like the Bimbo melt literally has cheese melted over the Accent’s bodies restraining them to the bread. I decide to just go simple and question how they are made later. A simple BLT and French fries. Yep, a Babes Lettuce and tomato. As described, two attractive Accents restrained in three strips of Bacon each laid a top garden fresh tomato and lettuce on freshly toasted artisan bread. Yeah, that should be manageable for me. Tammy arrives and places the shoot before me. And before she can finish asking, “Would you like more time Mr. Jackson?” I have downed it to claim my agitated nerves. “Yes, I’ll have a BLT with Accents not on my personal list and a cola to drink.” I state a little quickly. She takes it in pride and smiles in amusement. Then clarifies, “Off list Accent for the cola as well?” “Yes please.” I answer, trying to slow down. Then, I have a craving, “That couldn’t be a cherry cola could it?” I’m surprised when she answers, “We can do that Mr. Jackson.” “Thank you Tammy.” I say. She asks, “Anything else Mr. Jackson?” “No, I think just the sandwich and fries will be good.” I answer. “Right away.” she says with a little bow and is away again. She comes back shortly with the sandwich, fries, and my drink on a serving tray. The Sandwich has the top slice of bread leaning on the bottom of the sandwich. This is clearly so I can see the two attractive and shapely blondes laying in an unconscious state upon my sandwich. Bacon wrapped about their calves and thighs then another strip about her torso restraining their arms. Tammy taps my plate with that strange wand thing they use and the two beauties awaken. It takes them less than a second to assess their situation of being draped as filler of a sandwich half surrounded by French Fries with a giant looming above them. They begin rambling, in German I think. Oddly I think that’ll help me with this personal challenge. If I understood them they might have more of a chance. Tammy then sets my Cherry Cola upon the table. Tall glass of dark liquid with a little ice floating at the top. On a very little plate is a straw with a red haired sexy shaped Accent restrained to it. On her head as a hat is one of those bar cherries sliced to stay fit over her head at an angle. Tammy taps that plate and this one is just as quick. Struggling hard against her restraints she too seems to be babbling in German. “Everything look good Mr. Jackson?” Tammy asks like this was a normal everyday thing. “Yes.” I told her. Because I guess here, this is a normal everyday thing. “Oh Good.” She replies. Then notes, “If anything is wrong just wave at me and I’ll be right over. Enjoy your meal.” And she leaves me with three miniature terrified women among my food. I don’t know how to start. I look out into the dinning room and my gaze is greeted with a cascade of carnivore death. Tiny men being sucked back by a woman off oyster shells. A man slicing the leg off of a woman speared to his steak by his fork. Another man chomping down a burger as little hands stretch and grab at the air from under the bun. A woman dipping a breaded covered woman into some sauce face first, her plate says she likes to mix her accents. I turn back. I remember Jennifer’s words, “They only are alive because you ordered the meal.” And, “Alive to be eaten.” I take a deep breath and center myself. I look down. Both blondes are extremely attractive. I find myself thinking of Doggie Cage for home fun almost immediately. I wish Jim was here, his presence makes this easier. I slip the half a bread slice over one side of my sandwich. The now trapped woman screams and screams, likely wondering in her panic how she ended up on giant’s sandwich. Likely begging for me to show her mercy, to get her back home. Not knowing she wasn’t who she thought she was. I lift the top of the sandwich towards my open mouth, head first should end her torture sooner. My teeth crush through bread, lettuce, tomato, and take her screaming head clean off. I chew, the bacon flavor is delicious. That had to be her as the little of the slice I got with that bite would account for all that flavor. Her sandwich partner screams in terror and I understand why this is a enjoyable experience for the other guests. There is a rush in knowing you can eat a tiny person alive and they can’t stop you. I feel it as I take another bite. But I also feel a touch guilty, I could have saved her. But, to what end? How many tiny women do I want at home to look after? Sure Jim bought me a huge cage so I could keep many more then I already have. But that would also mean looking after getting them food and other perversions. I tear another part of the sandwich off with my teeth, I’m already halfway through the first Accent’s body. I slide the bread over the other side of the sandwich to muffle that one’s screams a little. I grab the straw and that one whimpers in a language I don’t know. I slip her into the cherry cola and she’s neck deep. I lift the glass and lower the level a little. The shapely redhead is shivering before I place the glass down. I take another chomp and grab a fry to munch on. This, this wasn’t bad. The sandwich was delicious all things considered. Fries cooked to a perfect crispy outer edge. And the cherry cola was not too sweet. They did know how to make good food here. I toss the last of the first half sandwich into my mouth and take another sip of cola. Tammy arrived as I’m chewing. How they always do this to me I never know. “How is everything Mr. Jackson?” I swallow and take another sip. “Good thank you.” I managed to get out. “Not so bad once you start? The eating of an Accent I mean?” She inquires. “No, rather tasty actually. Are they, well, do they flavor the Accents?” I ask. “Depending on the meal, yes. Yours would have a smoked flavoring added to their mix to give them a richer bacon taste. If your planning on keeping the other one you’ll find that flavoring will fade over a week or so.” She explained politely. “Interesting. Kind of a rush, eating a living little person.” I admit. Tammy smirks and advises, “You want a real rush, eat the next one feet first.” “I’ll try.” I say trying to convince myself. “I’ll be back soon Mr. Jackson to see if you need a refill or want something after your lunch.” Tammy informs me. “Thanks Tammy.” I acknowledge as I lift the second half of the sandwich. I look at my sandwich. The tiny woman inside is looking out helplessly, clearly begging in her language. I decide to take Tammy’s advice and turn the sandwich around. I bring the side between my teeth. My mouth tears those in incisors through the bread and veggies. I can feel the tiny woman squirming for her life trapped between the slices. To no avail as my next bite severs her legs just below her knees. She screams in agony and I feel a strange delight I know I’ll question later. I destroyed her lower legs in my mouth and swallowed them down. I take another sip before I go for her thighs. Meaty and firm are the last of her lower limbs. Now I have a new question as I chew, why isn’t she gushing blood all over my plate? Her screaming is gone and now just helpless whimpers escape my sandwich. I rend into the sandwich and take off her fine little ass. Her bacon flavor is delectable. Mixing with the fresh tomato wonderfully. All her sounds end with the next bite. Likely I took her heart and lungs with my eager chomp. She’s still delicious. I ate the last of the sandwich noting Tammy was right, that was a cruel power rush. I nibble my fries as I reveal more of my drink’s Accent’s fabulous body with each little sip. This was easy once I began, I don’t know what I had myself all worked up about. Tammy happily comes back, “Well Mr. Jackson, did you enjoy your meal?” “Yes thank you.” I answer. “Dessert?” She suggests. “Not today.” I decide. She leans in close and suggests, “If you eat your drink Accent, you should swallow her whole. You’ll feel her struggle all the way to your stomach.” “I did that last time. It was a touch hard on my throat.” I point out. “Once you get used to doing it, you’ll enjoy swallowing at least one Accent whole per visit.” She tempts me to try. I pull the straw out of the cola. I look at the restraints about the Accent’s wrists and it’s just a twisted strip of paper. Ankles too, she is so helpless she couldn’t tear cola soaked straw paper. I, however, do it easily. She yelps in pain as I forcefully free her. She is pleading away in the foreign language as I raise her head first to my open mouth. Tammy is there watching eagerly, likely wanting to be encouraging. The Redhead Accent’s skin is cold on my tongue from soaking in the ice chilled cola for so long. She slips smoothly over my tongue, I can hear her screaming in terror from within my mouth. I feel her head and shoulders touch the back of my throat and tilt my head back to straighten the path. As I swallow hard I suck her shapely legs between my lips. Her little torso slips down my esophagus. I enjoy those long legs dancing their last dance along my lips. Kicking frantically along my tongue. And tickling my Uvula with her toes as they are pulled down into the darkness inside my torso. As empowering as that was, still rough on my throat. Tammy is right however. I feel that shapely body struggling against the downward pull of my esophagus. Wiggling and kicking every compact inch. Then the pressure of her mass escapes my chest into my stomach. I think I feel her flopping about among the pieces of the devoured sandwich and chewed fries. Likely splashing in the now belly heated soda she was just recently soaking in cold. “See, feel like some powerful other worldly being don’t you.” Tammy asks self assuredly. I clear my throat and take a sip of cola before I point out, “Still hard on my throat.” “It’ll get easier, I promise.” She assures me. “I’ll try to remember that. Not to rush you, but could I have my bill?” I ask while grabbing a fry to munch. “Oh, Ms. Lewis picked that up for you.” Tammy informs me. Now I have a new question, “Ms. Lewis?” “Yes. You know, from the board of owners.” Tammy states like the whole board was known to everyone once they entered the Café. Then seeing my confusion she realizes aloud, “Oh you never meet Ms. Lewis?” “No, I have no idea who she is. Is she still here?” I should at least thank her. Meals, even the cheaper ones, were pricey here. “No, she left shortly after you ordered. She just asked that your meal be placed on her tab. I thought maybe you were friends.” Tammy explained. Then cheekily asked, “Would you like dessert now?” “No, I shouldn’t push her hospitality.” I say, but I have a feeling from my first visit there are power dynamics challenges among the board and don’t want to put Jim in anyone’s debt. “OK, well take your time with your fries and if you change your mind let me know.” Tammy offers. “I will.” I say. Now I have to worry when I come here to eat that I could be used against Jim in some way. I’ll need him to explain who this Ms. Lewis is and what and who I should avoid. He said I would be a help for him if I take the job he offered me. Well, then I should take it to help my friend. I finish and start back to my current job. I call Jim, “Hello buddy.” he answers happily. “Hey, about that job you offered. Would me being there really help you out?” I go straight to the point. “Indubitably.” he replied. “OK, to help you out I’ll take it.” I informed him. “Yeah, just to help me out. Like the more pay and better health benefits weren’t an incentive.” He teases back. “I had lunch at the Café today.” I told him. “Oh, was everything good? Added to your collection?” He asks cheerfully. “Yeah, all good. Actually I ate all the Accents this time.” I start. “Oh cool, good for you.” He says clearly wanting to encourage me out of my comfort zone. “Yeah, one thing though. A Ms. Lewis paid for my meal.” I informed him. His tone is attempting to stay cheery but I can hear him questioning her motives, “Carol, really.” “Yeah, is that OK? Is that something I should avoid?” I let him know I was aware of the possible power struggle. “No, that’s” he started, but paused enough before saying, “Fine.” To make me worry. “Well if there are any problems let me know.” I told him. “Will do.” He lied, he’s worried about something. “Got to go, guess I have to get back to work and give my notice.” I said to him. He suggests, “Hey we should get together and celebrate you joining the chain.” “Sure, I’ll call you. Talk to you later.” I say. “Yep, talk to you soon.” He replied. Before I hang up. I guess I’m stepping into the secret tiny human serving Café business. Not something I had ever considered till recently. Hope I don’t end up on the menu.