John Crawford spat the bilious taste from his mouth as he struggled for a handhold. Slowly, agonizingly, he pulled himself up from the hot churning pool that waited to consume him, the events of the past month running through his mind. 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 being swallowed alive was not one that he had thought of. John’s throat and lungs burned, each breath he gasped drawing in a mist of stomach acid and digestive enzymes that would only hasten his end. As he struggled to maintain consciousness, he thought again about the bizarre string of events that would soon end here… Western Pharmaceuticals was 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 five years. His office and apartment had been left as though he intended to be back. The police had interviewed a number of 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. John Crawford sat at his desk, a large copier paper box full of documents situated to one side. As Mark’s direct supervisor, it had fallen upon John to review the material and documentation on Mark’s last project. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his slightly balding head. He didn’t have time for this and was frustrated over having to spend additional precious time cleaning up Mark’s mess. John was slightly built and by anyone’s standards would be considered to be an introvert. He had become a director more through tenacity rather than an actual temperament or ability to perform the job. He had lived with his mother until her death several years ago and now spent most of his time in Internet chat rooms. Such was John’s social life. He liked women, though he had never really dated, preferring to study them from a distance rather than interact directly. He was particularly fond of the voyeur web sites and had actively engaged in the activity until college when he was caught trying to peak through the partially open bathroom window of a local sorority. Nothing had come of it but the experience had 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. It was tedious work reviewing someone else’s notes and Mark was not known for good documentation. Apparently, Mark had started working on a cream to reduce wrinkles by shrinking the skin. John wondered why he was not aware of the project and began thumbing through the notes, 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 in Mark’s journal, “Mouse reduced from 5 cm to 0.1 cm. How to reverse?” For the next several hours John tore through the volumes 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 used the serum on himself. It would explain the sudden disappearance and 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? Or, maybe he had ended up being squished under someone’s gigantic foot. He was in the midst of dialing the detective on the case when he hung up the phone and smiled. John’s voyeuristic proclivities had gained the upper hand and over the next week John worked like a man possessed. He was able to synthesize the serum and the counteracting agent so that he could now shrink and restore a living organism at will. It was during that time period that John had finalized his plan. The office was fairly populated with attractive women, and there would be time to visit them all, but one young woman in particular stood out from the others as being an obvious first choice. Renee McCormick was one of a small group of new hires, having recently graduated from Northwestern University with a degree in environmental engineering. When the opportunity to work in the newly created Environmental Products division of Western Pharmaceuticals presented itself, Renee did not hesitate to accept. Renee was smart, extremely ambitious, and attractive, a combination of attributes that many men, including John Crawford, found attractive yet very intimidating. Thoughts of Renee haunted John and he often fantasized about her, wondering what she was wearing underneath her clothes or how she might look naked. Occasionally he would get a glimpse of lacy cleavage or see the outline of bikini panties through a tight skirt or pants. Thoughts and images of Renee flooded John’s mind as he finalized his plans. Perhaps it was the fact that he did find her so intimidating that intensely attracted him to her. He was not a particularly introspective man and the thought slipped away into his unconscious. The much more obvious reason was that Renee was very feminine. What he noticed first was her hair, strawberry blonde and cropped short. Like most men, John preferred longer hair on women. Although cut short, it was not harsh or mannish. Rather, it had a very soft, feminine look that had the effect of making her eyes seem large and expressive almost like an anime’ character. Those green cat eyes! If the eyes were indeed the window to the soul… He felt a chill travel through him. The rest of her was no less beautiful. Renee was slightly taller than average, slender yet soft and curvy. It was no wonder, John mused, that he had become instantly drawn to her. John would have been the first to admit that there were some holes in his plan. In actuality, what John was planing was extremely risky and there were so many variables that to even claim that he had a plan was at best delusional. His passionate desire was such that he could actually 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. She always put her purse on the floor just below the left hand drawers of her desk. 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 had stashed a small amount of the formula that reversed the shrinking effect. 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. John had strolled past Renee’s desk a couple of times as a last minute recon of the area. Everything was just as he had expected. It was about three 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, “Yah. 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 to Renee’s cubicle. Her space looked the same as it had earlier 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 took several minutes in the mice, but their metabolism was much higher. John crawled up under the desk as best he could and waited. The nausea came on suddenly; a racking pain in John’s 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 John slipped into unconsciousness. John rolled onto his back with a groan and slowly opened his eyes. He was in some kind of vast, open space. 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 on John’s left side caught his attention and he turned to face a black wall that had not been there previously. His eyes followed its curved contour and he gasped as 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 that he had seen directly in front of him. From his perspective, she was monstrously huge and he began to realize that it was one thing to imagine being only a couple of inches tall and entirely another to actually be it. Her legs were crossed with the left foot almost directly above the spot where John had been previously standing. He had been lucky not to have ended up a red spot on the underside of her enormous pump. 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 some kind of 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 rope 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 60 feet from the floor and about 10 feet from the edge of the purse. John climbed a little further and was now hanging slightly from the underneath of 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 himself 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 bearing. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, vague shapes began to take form. He had slid down what looked to be her compact and landed on a lipstick. “It’s going to be a long, boring wait,” John thought. “I might as well explore a little.” 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 and rested. He was roughly jarred from a dead sleep, when the contents of the purse began shifting menacingly about. A lipstick tumbled onto John’s chest, momentarily pinning him against the side 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 with fright. “This is not what I had in mind,” John thought. 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. Gratitude soon gave way to idle curiosity and John began to wonder about the culvert like tube. His curiosity aroused, John began to slowly crawl further inside. He had gone about twenty 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. It was a thick 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 tattered wrapper. He looked down at the open end of the tube below, his mind racing, trying to think of a way out. The circle of light below him suddenly became dark as Renee’s finger covered the opening. She slid the smooth applicator inside her then slowly pushed the plunger up to position the tampon, and John, 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 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 hair, and daylight spun by as John twirled crazily about. His hands burned as he desperately hung on 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 bee 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. Renee was washing her hands when a voice inquired, “Ready for Lunch?” She looked up to see Julie Henderson standing in the door way. “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 between her legs. 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 friends 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 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 definitely 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 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 no bigger than her thumbnail 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. “My God you really are a tiny man!” she gasped. Again Renee demanded to know who he was and what he was doing. 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. John 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. Renee wanted to know why he had chosen her and was very curious about the shrinking potion and how he had discovered it. 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 potion and thought ‘what the hell’ I’ll see if I can get an eyeful of Renee while she is 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 almost trapped inside my vagina 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. Wonderful smells filled the air and the pangs in John’s stomach, reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since morning. 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 hamburger bun laying open. Off to his left was a skillet with some kind of ground beef mixture. 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. Renee spread the thick mixture on the bottom half of the bun. Then, tipping the glass upside down, she casually dropped him onto the sandwich. John shrieked with pain as he sank waist deep into the scalding filling.
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