Random Late Night Thoughts
I have many favorite types of giants, but recently I’ve been really loving those giants that eat tinies just because they can :) That giant who sees a tiny and immediately thinks, “Oh look. Food.” The giant that thinks nothing of their tiny but as another snack, or maybe a very delicious toy, but only for a while, something to dominate and then swallow. The giant that holds a hand to their stomach to feel the tiny struggle inside, and perhaps causing this tiny to feel sheer terror is the cake, and getting a snack out of it is just the extra icing.
That giant that looms over you when they spot you, like THEIR BODY LITERALLY CASTS A SHADOW OVER YOURS, and the fact that they’re blocking the sun douses you with cold fear because you know what’s coming next. Those giants that get a rush from seeing you tremble at the sight of them; they love it so much their lips spread into a smile, revealing those rows of pearly white teeth that make your heart skip a beat.
Perhaps they’re the type of giant to tease you with a seemingly innocent one liner.
“Oh? What’s such a little thing like you doing out here all alone?” Or maybe “You’re so small, I almost didn’t see you down there,” and as they bend down to pick you up, your instincts tell you to run, but you barely manage a few steps back before they’re much too near for you to escape, yet you still try, even though that smile on their face is telling you that they won’t let you you get far. You turn to run, barely managing to stumble out of the reach of their huge, grabby fingers, but this single victory doesn’t last long as their hand wraps around you and lifts you from the floor, until there’s nothing but air beneath your feet.
“Where are you going little one?” He might ask, his grip around you too tight to answer, and he lets out a low chuckle as he rises back up to his full height. “Don’t you want to stay and play awhile?”
And maybe he adds, “And aren’t you the perfect little size for a midday snack?”
Your body freezes in his hand. Fear surges throughout your body, telling you to escape, but where to? How are you supposed to run when your body won’t listen to you and literally cannot move?
And he holds you up to his mouth, smiling hungrily as his tongue swipes across his lips in anticipation, and he lets out a soft sigh. “Mmmmmfuck, you’re gonna taste so good.”
He throws his head back and dangles you above his smirking lips, which part neatly to reveal strings of saliva clinging to the roof of his mouth. From this terrifying angle, you can see inside of it perfectly: between his rows of pearly teeth, to his outstretched tongue like a red carpet, waiting to welcome you into that warm, pink cave that’s hungering for you, that’s craving you, all the way to the back of his mouth, where the light turns to dark and leads down a path to your demise and similarly, his satisfaction.
A low “ah,” bubbles up from the back of his throat as he lowers you into it, which snaps you out of your thoughts, and you squirm between his fingers, shrieking as you get closer and closer.
You can’t. You can’t let him put you in there.
You push and kick at his plush lips and slap at his fingers until you’re forced into his mouth and he closes his lips over you, but you can’t give up here. It’s hot, humid, damp, disgusting, and you just want him to open his mouth and let you out of here. If anything you wish he’d do it on his own, because the delighted noises he’s making sounds like he’s enjoying it: your struggle against his tongue, tasting you, squishing you against his palate, sucking on you and rolling you around the confines of his mouth like a piece of hard candy, and you can just hope he won’t trap you between his teeth. Through frustration and fear you try to fight back, although you know it’s useless, kicking at the hollows of his cheeks and gripping on to his tongue, trying your hardest to ignore the growls of his empty stomach from below and the deep chuckles that reverberate around you, a manifestation of his amusement as though he knows he’s already won this battle.
“Mmm so yummy…”
“Feisty, aren’t you?”
“Relax, you’re going down anyway.”
He’s the type of giant that won’t listen to you plead, beg, or curse as he pushes you to the back of his mouth and holds you there, your feet at the edge of his throat, your tiny fingers slick with saliva grasping for anything that you can reach, begging him not to swallow you, but that dream was just a dream, and with a simple flick of his tongue, he gulps with you down without so much of a second thought, even though your hands are still looking for something to hold on to to keep you from slipping down further as you’re forced down the slimy walls of his throat, shrieking in horror as the light from his mouth fades to black, and the sound of his heartbeat echoes around you.
He’s the type of giant that lets out a large, satisfied sigh as you slide into his empty stomach, and you push against the crowding walls, pound against them, unknowing that it feels heavenly to him, and he’s urging you to continue. He’s the type of giant that gives a soft pat to his gurgling belly as you struggle from deep within, and continues on with his day until he forgets all about you and finds another tiny to swallow. But he does hope you enjoyed your little journey. He surely enjoyed it.