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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2182045
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Fantasy · #2182045
A man discovers that being a voyeur can have deadly consequences.
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 filling the small space he presently occupied threatening to drown him if he didn’t suffocate first. The thought of what he was drowning in repulsed him and he was glad he couldn’t actually see what it looked like. It was bad enough that he had swallowed some of it. 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 hot darkness of his prison, the events of the past month ran 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 this was not one that he could have foreseen. He was now almost 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. 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 sat at his desk, running his hand through thinning hair as he stared at a large 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. 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.

John had lived with his mother until her death a few years earlier and remained in the same house. He now spent 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 and his few attempts to date women had ended in rejection. 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 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 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 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 used the serum on himself. It made perfect sense. It would explain his 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; a real incarnation of Scott Carey? Or, maybe he had ended up being squished like an insect 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 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. Over the next week John worked like a man possessed. After several failed attempts 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 single 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.

John’s mind wandered to thoughts 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 many men, including 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, seeing her in the elevator and wondering 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. Thoughts and images of Renee flooded John’s mind as he finalized his plan.

John would have been the first 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 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. From his numerous trips past her desk he 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 had stashed a small amount of the formula that reversed the shrinking effect. It was 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 exclaimed as she turned back to her computer.

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 few minutes in the mice, but their metabolism was much higher.

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 he slipped into unconsciousness.

Several hours later, John 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. His eyes followed its curved contour; 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. 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 bearing. 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 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, 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.

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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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. "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. 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.

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’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 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 disgusting 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 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 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.

"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 sorry. Renee poured herself another glass of wine and curled up on the couch. She dialed Monica’s number from memory and 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 easily a 300 foot drop to the floor from the plateau of the table top. 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 number 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 Renee’s 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 some how 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… 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 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 and carried John into the bathroom. She dumped him out of the glass and onto the counter next to a long, clear tube.

“I think you’re going to enjoy this,” she said as she picked up the tube. It was cylindrical with a rod that protruded from one end. She unscrewed the end with the rod and laid the tube beside John. “Crawl inside,” she commanded.

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 definitely 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 the threaded end of the tube; its opening was just wide enough to clear his shoulders.

“That’s better, Renee said. She picked up the tube and screwed the end back on. She held it up to the mirror so that John could see. “This is a feminine applicator. In case you don’t know, the way it works is that the woman fills it with whatever is needed, usually some kind of yeast medication. In this case what I need is you. Then she inserts it into her vagina.” She slowly ran her finger nail along its, length. “It’s long enough to go all the way to the back so whatever is in it can be deposited close to her cervix. Then she presses the plunger up and it squirts what’s inside into her. Simple.”

John was beginning to sweat as it now was clear what she intended to do.

“So… I guess since you are inside the tube and seem fairly bright, not counting this stupid shrinking idea, I guess you understand where you’re headed,” Renee smiled.

“Oh, I almost forgot the best part,” Renee said sweetly. “I guess you couldn’t help but notice that I started my period.” She turned slightly so he could see the string dangling from her. “So in a moment you are going to experience firsthand what it’s like to be a woman.”

Renee laid the applicator with John inside on the counter. She removed a tampon from a drawer somewhere below and ran her finger along its length before placing it on the counter beside him. “This is what being a woman is all about.” He watched her gently pull out the used tampon and pat herself with a wad of toilet paper.

“Now it’s your turn.” She picked up the applicator holding it up to her face. “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 positioned the tube at the entrance to her vagina. John was at the far end near the plunger watching as she parted the lips of her labia and began pushing the applicator inside. Abruptly he felt the plunger pushing him, sliding him slowly upward along the applicator’s smooth surface. The pink walls of her vagina slid past as it gradually got darker until he could see only the backlit translucent sides of the tube. There was a final push and he was aware of hot wet flesh surrounding him.

Renee removed the empty applicator smeared with a few flecks of blood and smiled as she placed it on the counter. Then she picked up the tampon and inserted it.

“Well that should take care of him,” she said to herself.

She slipped on a pair of cotton panties and a camisole, crawled noiselessly into bed and turned off the light. In the quiet darkness she imagined that she could feel her little captive down there 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.


Copyright 2000 Adeline. All rights reserved. Adeline has granted Stories.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.



© Copyright 2019 Adeline (missadeline at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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