It was a world where size dictated one’s worth. As might be expected, the regular-sized people controlled everything while unfortunate tinies – dust-sized humans, barely visible to the naked eye – lived short lives full of risk and suffering. For pocket change, anyone could pick up a packet of them, containing dozens, hundreds or even thousands of lives crammed into a little foil square, sold at corner stores as novelties or disposable comforts. In truth, given their absurdly small scale, you couldn’t really feel tinies moving around or anything. It was more about the idea, the mental feeling of superiority it granted, knowing hundreds of lives were ending for your slightest whim or pleasure. It was a kink thing for some, or a food craving for others (nothing like seasoning a steak with a hundred living, breathing, sapient souls!). Most people didn’t care what became of the diminutive playthings once the seal was broken, and Alex was no exception.

Alex himself was a striking figure despite his weariness today – a cute young twink with smooth brown skin and a scattering of darker freckles across his attractive, youthful face. His hazel eyes, framed by long lashes, flickered with a tired apathy to the entire world that only deepened after hours of retail hell. He needed something to sooth the headaches of the day. To him, tinies were nothing more than a gimmick to help him relax, their microscopic lives too trivial to stir his conscience even slightly. After a day spent on his feet, forcing smiles for rude customers, all he wanted was to collapse and let the world fade away.

On his way home, he stopped by the convenience store, its flickering sign casting a pale glow over the sidewalk. Inside, he scanned the rack of tiny-packets, each boasting bold claims like “Pure Relaxation” or “A Thousand Tiny Ways to Spice Up Your Night!.” His fingers settled on one labeled “Feminine Essence: 1,000 Tiny Women,” the foil glinting as he handed over a crumpled bill. Yeah… tonight he felt like using up a bunch of little ladies. He could pretend some of them were his customers from today’s shift. The clerk barely looked up as he scanned the packet and murmured a goodbye and soon Alex was back in the cool evening air, the packet a small weight in his pocket. He headed home.

His apartment greeted him with the usual stale air and scattered mess. Kicking off his shoes, he let them thud against the wall, then tugged his work shirt over his head, tossing it aside. He sank onto the worn couch, the springs creaking under him, and eyed the packet now resting on the coffee table. With a faint smirk, he plucked it up and tore it open, the foil splitting with a satisfying rip. It felt like opening a condom packet, but instead of a rubbery ring inside, it was a swarm of barely-visible human beings. He dumped the packet over himself. A shimmering cloud of dust-sized women puffed out, catching the light for a fleeting second. Tilting his head back, he shook the packet over his bare torso, watching the specks drift down to settle across his chest, arms, and stomach like a fine, sparkling mist. Some probably got lost in the couch, but he didn’t care. They wouldn’t last long on their own anyway.

But Alex wasn’t done. He stood, stretching lazily, and hooked a thumb into the waistband of his underwear. With a casual flick, he pulled it forward just enough to shake loose half the remainder of the tiny women inside, letting them tumble into the darkness of his boxers, slightly tickling his cock. Then, turning slightly, he tugged the back open and repeated the motion, ensuring another scattering landed there. Satisfied, he let the elastic snap back into place, the faint tickle of their presence barely registering. He flopped back onto the couch, legs sprawled, and closed his eyes, a long sigh escaping his lips as the day’s tension began to melt away. The thousand tiny women were strewn across and within him now—on his skin, in his clothes, a forgotten garnish to his relaxation—but he didn’t care. They were there for him, not the other way around.

Endings:

Ending 1: Wrong Place, Wrong Time (Crushed under ass)

Ending 2: Into the Dark (Anal death)

Ending 3: Licking His Lips (Vore)

Ending 4: Swiping Right (Finger crush on phone)

Ending 5: Shoe Speck (Fell into a shoe, no escape)

Ending 6: Dirt Underfoot (Foot crush)

Ending 7: Pubic Press (Finger crush in pubic hair)

Ending 8: Alone (Smothering between shaft and sack)

Ending 9: Bad Idea (Cockvore)

Ending 10: Two Can Play (Blowjob vore)

Ending 11: Exercise is bad for you (Sweat, drowning)

Ending 12: Pit Stop (Armpit smother/crush)

Ending 13: Feeling Drained (Washed down shower drain)

Ending 14: Inhale, Exhale (Nasal death)

Ending 15: Treading ‘Water’ (Watersports)

Ending 1: Wrong Place, Wrong Time (Crushed under ass)

Lila had barely registered the dizzying flash of light from the darkness of the foil packet when the world shifted violently beneath her. One moment, she was tumbling through the air with hundreds of her fellow tiny sisters, a speck in a cloud of specks, her tiny heart pounding with terror and confusion. The next, she landed on a coarse, damp surface that smelled faintly of sweat and fabric softener – the back of Alex’s underwear. She clung to the fabric’s threading tightly, her minuscule hands trembling as she tried to make sense of the vast, curving landscape of her new god’s body. The air was warm and humid, thick with the musk of a giant who didn’t care that she existed, let alone what happened to her down here.

While he stayed standing for a moment, she thought she might have a chance – maybe she could climb free, escape this nightmare – but then came the drop, the sudden lurch as he flopped back onto the couch. The sky became a wall of brown skin and faded fabric, descending with indifferent speed, and Lila screamed, a sound unheard by anyone but other doomed speck-women, all too small to matter. The pressure hit like a moon falling directly onto her, her fragile body flattening instantly beneath the weight of his butt, bones snapping like brittle twigs, her last breath crushed out in a silent gasp of pure terror and pain. Panic had flared bright and hot in her chest for a single instant, a desperate plea for mercy no one would hear, only to be snuffed out without a thought. Her life, and the lives of dozens of others caught in the same fold of cloth, ended not by malice but simply by a tired boy’s need to sit down. She’d been an artist once, with dreams of her own, now reduced to nothing more than a forgotten smear on a sagging cushion, her existence erased forever for the sake of some random boy’s fleeting comfort.

Ending 2: Into the Dark (Anal death)

Brittany and Tiffany clutched each other as they slid down the slick, sweaty slope of Alex’s skin in the dark back end of his underwear, their twin dye-blonde lengths of hair matted with fear. Besties since their pep-rally days in their tinies-only high school, they’d tumbled together from the packet into this nightmare, landing in the back of his underwear. Now, they skidded toward the dark, wrinkled chasm of this boy’s butthole, the air around them turning hot and bitter. “We’ll be okay, Tiff!” Brittany squeaked in reassurance, her own voice shaking, but her timing was horrifically ironic. Alex shifted on the couch. A faint clench – an unnoticed twitch to him – crushed Brittany in an instant, her body flattening against the puckered skin, a sickening crunch ringing in Tiffany’s ears as her friend’s scream died inches from her ear. Tiffany wailed, tears streaking down her face as she reflexively pushed away from Brittany’s smeared remains and fell. She plunged into the tight, sweltering blackness inside Alex. The walls pressed in, the horrible heat and dense humidity smothering her oppressively as she scratched at the slick surface, her sobs drowned out by the giant’s throbbing pulse all around. Brittany was gone and now Tiffany collapsed alone, her last gasps a silent curse against the boy who’d so casually sprinkled them here, their lives snuffed out for his idle comfort after a long shift.

Ending 3: Licking His Lips (Vore)

Jessie landed with a soft, wet *smack* on Alex’s lower lip, her tiny form sinking into the sticky warmth of the thin wet sheen gathered there as the boy’s features loomed impossibly large around her. She was a speck, torn from the packet and dropped onto this quivering trap, her body pinned by the moisture of a boy’s lightest breathing. Above her, Alex’s mouth gaped like the world’s largest cavern, each exhale a humid gust that plastered her hair to her face, while his pretty, freckled features filled the sky – though admittedly her view up his nose wasn’t the best vantage. He was obviously utterly unaware of her predicament even now. Jessie moaned in fear as she tried to pull herself free. She’d had a life once: friends who laughed with her, dreams of what she might do with her life, hopes that carried her through each day. Now, it all dangled on the edge of this giant’s lip, her heart hammering with dread as she fought to free herself, her cries too faint to pierce his restful dozing. He sighed then, the sound rumbling through her very bones, and she waited, trapped, as time stretched into an unbearable limbo… Then his tongue flicked out – mindlessly, just a reflex to wet his lips – and swept her screaming into the wet darkness. A moment later, in an ocean of hot, thick saliva, she tumbled down his throat, a fleeting speck of dust lost in the immutable suction of his swallow, her entire existence – her loves, her goals, her life’s story – erased in an instant. All of it, a human life snuffed out, not by deliberate cruelty but as collateral damage of the whim of a boy unwinding from a long day, her worth less than the air of the very breath that doomed her.

Ending 4: Swiping Right (Finger crush on phone)

Zara was an unlucky one – her falling speck of a form drifted slowly onto the ridged surface of Alex’s finger with a gasp, her tiny body bouncing once before clinging to the whorls of his skin. She’d been ripped from her home, packaged as a cheap commodity, and scattered from the packet with a thousand other victims. And now, she was just a mote on this giant’s hand. His finger was an arching landscape of heat and faint sweat, the air faintly smelling of his lunch from this afternoon. She was trembling uncontrollably as her new god sprawled on the couch, oblivious to her frantic grip. Then he moved, his hand dipping unexpectedly, and she tumbled free, plummeting onto the slick glass of his phone screen. The glowing expanse stretched endlessly beneath her, icons the size of city blocks, her form a speck too small to be seen even highlighted against the glow. She scrambled futilely in a random direction, her heart pounding with the terror of being so utterly invisible, as his face loomed above – pretty, freckled, and vacant with exhaustion. She might have crushed on this boy, at full size. But now, he would be crushing on her. His finger descended, a shadow blotting out the light, and Zara froze, her scream silent to Alex at such an absurdly small scale. Mid-swipe, his fingertip struck her – an idle flick to scroll some meaningless feed – and smeared her across the screen, her body bursting into a faint red streak he’d never even notice. A whole human existence erased under the careless press of a boy’s fingertip, sacrificed for a moment’s distraction after his shift.

Ending 5: Shoe Speck (Fell into a shoe, no escape)

Mira plummeted into darkness, the air rushing past her as she fell from the packet and landed… on a worn, spongy surface. Not on Alex’s body, unlike most of the other girls, but inside one of the shoes he had kicked off moments before he sank onto the couch. The walls of faded rubber and fabric towered around her, a cavernous prison radiating scents of sweat and dirt, its heat oppressively flooding through her tiny frame. This was it… this was how she was going to die. Alone and unnoticed in this suffocating trap, not even serving the purpose for which the god-sized boy had attempted to use her. Too small to scale the sheer, curved cliffs of the insole, she stumbled forward, her arms sinking to their elbows into the damp fuzz of some sock lint. Her breath hitching with panic as the reality of her situation really set in. Above, the world rumbled faintly as Alex shifted, oblivious to her existence. She could die now, crushed if he slipped the shoe back on, his weight flattening her into nothing with a single step. Or she could linger, surviving in the humid gloom, gasping the stale air until thirst or exhaustion or heatstroke claimed her – her fate sealed regardless of the exact outcome. The shoe was Mira’s universe now, a tomb she’d never escape, its vastness mocking her insignificance. A tiny woman now just another grain of dirt tumbling around in his discarded footwear.

Ending 6: Dirt Underfoot (Foot crush)

Melody hit the hardwood floor with a jolt, her tiny body tumbling from the packet’s shimmering cascade to sprawl on the cold, unyielding surface. Her size kept her from dying on impact – almost no mass, so almost no speed. She’d barely cried out and gasped for her first breath after landing when a shadow loomed overhead. Alex’s bare, brown foot (though a paler brown than the rest of him, at least the underside she could currently see), hovered there for a fleeting second, a looming god of menace and fear replacing her sky as he shifted his weight slightly to flop onto the couch. She stared upward, her heart seizing with terror, and saw the vast sole descending - creases deep as canyons, the ball of his foot aligned directly over her head. She screamed; a sound far too weak to breach the silence. She flung her arms over her head instinctively, as if she could hold back the impossible wall of flesh coming toward her. Then it landed, the pressure slamming down like a meteor, crushing her flat in an instant – bones splintering to dust, a final held breath bursting from her lungs, her existence smeared into a faint red speck on this soft young man’s skin. He didn’t feel her, didn’t pause, just settled back with a sigh, his comfort unknowingly beginning with her erasure. A life vanished under the ball of his foot, trivial and unnoticed.

Ending 7: Pubic Press (Finger crush in pubic hair)

Another group of tiny women plummeted from the packet in the same general direction, a shrieking cluster of specks that landed in the tangled jungle of Alex’s pubes before he sprawled on the couch. The coarse, wiry hairs caught some of them mid-fall. Their light, fragile bodies bounced against the dark, springy strands but at least their rough texture provided decent grips for the terrified, tiny women. Some slipped further, tumbling toward the unseen leviathan of this boy’s cock below, barely visible in the dim light and through the dense forest. Unlucky little things, their screams faded into the distance. Those who still clung to the pubic strands gasped in relief, their hands gripping the thick fibers, thinking themselves spared from a worse fate. It still wasn’t great – going from the darkness of the packet full of women to now clinging to a giant’s groin, the air thick with his musk and sweat. Their fragile hopes of survival didn’t last long though, as Alex twitched slightly, a faint itch prickling his skin. His hand drifted down and slid under his waistband as he lounged on the couch, fingers massive and careless as they raked through the pubic forest with a lazy scratch. The motion was trivial to him, a fleeting fix for a mild discomfort, but to them it was cataclysmic – hairs bent and folded, crushing the women caught between, while others were knocked from their perches to be crushed against his smooth skin, their bodies pulped into nothing under the press of his fingertips. Dozens died in an instant, their existences obliterated in a smear of blood and sweat, lives snuffed as simply as scratching an itch – metaphorically and literally.

Ending 8: Alone (Smothering between shaft and sack)

She fell alone, a solitary speck tumbling from the packet’s emptying reservoir of women, right past the wiry thicket of Alex’s pubes, past the looming contours of his soft shaft, until she landed with a soft thud on the wrinkled, warm, sweat-soaked skin of his balls. The air was humid and heavy with the sexual scents of a young man. The strong pulse throbbing constantly beneath her a reminder of the giant who didn’t know she existed. She’d lost everything – her friends, her family, her entire former life – to now be stranded in the dark on this vast, alien terrain. Trembling, she staggered to her feet, her voice cracking as she called out in fear, “H-hello? Anyone?! Please!” But the silence swallowed her pleas, her cries too small to reach beyond the fleshy depths to which she’d fallen. Then Alex shifted – a slight, personal adjustment of one hand brushing over his groin. His shaft twitched, the limp titan sliding to the side just enough to press against his sack from a new angle. She saw it coming, a slow-moving wall of skin, but nothing she did could save her. Struggling to climb over the uneven wrinkles of the terrain, screaming in terror, even clawing at the skin of the monster as it settled atop her, pinning her. She was just too small. She didn’t matter. And no one would be coming to help her. The weight wasn’t immediately crushing, but it was relentless, squeezing the air from her lungs bit by bit, every bit of breath lost never to be regained. She gasped, her tiny hands pushing uselessly against the suffocating mass, her lonely sobs fading into the dark. If anyone had heard her final moments, they might have heard her calling the names of her friends, her mom, anyone, begging them to come save her. But no one did… and no one did.

Ending 9: Bad Idea (Cockvore)

Brianna crashed onto the smooth, warm dome of Alex’s cockhead, her tiny body skidding across the skin until she came to a stop, right on the edge of the shadowed dip of his slit. She’d expected to die on impact as she fell but here, in this narrow crevice, she thought she’d found a temporary refuge, a shield from the chaos. She winced as she heard the girls in his pubes die under scratching fingertips, but at least she herself was safe for the moment. She huddled against the spongy walls, her breath shaky, whispering to herself, “I’m safe, I can make it, I’m safe.” Then something shifted, a dull rushing sound rising as Alex tapped his phone. He was pulling up some porn to help him relax, and her ears were small enough to pick up the sound of his blood pumping faster all around her. His hand wrapped around his shaft, and her world began to shake with every move of his hand. His strokes were grinding other girls along his length into smears of makeshift lube, their faint cries almost lost to the rhythmic throbbing now pulsing around and through Brianna. Her shelter quickly turned treacherous; the slit flexed with each pump, sucking her downward like a hungry beast. She scrabbled at the slick walls, screaming as the tight, wet tunnel of his urethra swallowed her whole. Darkness closed in fully, the walls pulsing and slick, almost crushing her frail little form as she thrashed, air dwindling. She would drown or be crushed – or maybe both – long before Alex finished, her life extinguished in the depths of his now-stiff cock, an ephemeral casualty of his pleasure.

Ending 10: Two Can Play (Blowjob vore)

Alternate ending for Brianna from Ending 9:
Brianna shuddered, moaning in pain deep in the tight, slick depths of Alex’s urethra, her tiny body battered by the surrounding chaos, her once-bright hopes reduced to nothing by being devoured by this giant boy’s dick. She’d thought it safe to slip into the slit just enough for shelter, but Alex’s hand had other plans. He had gripped his shaft firmly, stroking to some sort of porn on his phone far above. The walls flexed around Brianna with every stroke as she weakly fought to not be pulled even deeper. Her cries of pain and fear were drowned out by Alex’s pounding heartbeat and low moans. Those moans were rising toward a climax when a loud knock jolted him out of his reverie mid-stroke. “Babe?” a voice called in a sing-song tone, and Lucas – Alex’s boyfriend – burst in, all grins despite his rumpled work uniform. “Missed you too much between shifts,” he teased. “And wow, damn, looks like you were missing me too, huh?” Lucas grinned, already dropping to his knees in front of Alex with a wink. Alex blushed and grinned, tired but smitten. “You’re ridiculous, Luc – but I’m not saying no, either...”

The boys leaned in close for a little pleasant teasing – Lucas nipping Alex’s ear, Alex tugging Lucas’s hair – cute and playful despite the day’s grind. But time was short for Lucas’s schedule, so he didn’t wait long before getting down to the real business. Brianna felt something change as the muffled voices faded into soft moans. Lucas’s lips closed around Alex’s throbbing cockhead, sucking eagerly as he leaned in to take more of the shaft in with each bobbing motion of his head. It didn’t take much, thanks to Alex’s warm-up session. The walls around Brianna clenched intensely once, twice, again, and she cried out in confusion, terrified that her situation was somehow getting even worse, until Alex finally moaned and writhed in pleasure, his hips rising from the couch as his stiff cock went off. His thick, creamy load of cum burst into Lucas’s mouth, carrying with it a tiny passenger on the verge of drowning. She was swept up in the hot, sticky flood, rushing onto and then past Lucas’s tongue, her cries lost as Alex’s lover swallowed with a satisfied hum. “Mmmnhh, good boy,” Lucas purred, leaning up to kiss Alex’s freckled forehead before going to wash up and head back out. Brianna’s pathetic existence vanished down Lucas’s throat to digest with the cum just moments later, erased from the world in the load of a boy unwinding with his love.

Ending 11: Exercise is bad for you (Sweat, drowning)

Tara had tumbled from the packet and landed near the shallow crater of Alex’s navel, a tiny refuge nestled in the warm brown skin of his stomach. She huddled there, her body shaking, the curved walls offering a fleeting sense of safety. She pressed against the soft flesh, catching her breath, thinking she might endure and maybe even escape eventually, almost soothed as his chest rose and fell in lazy rhythm. A few hours passed, a fragile and unknowing stalemate between speck and god, until Alex finally groaned, hauling himself off the couch with a mutter about “getting moving.” He shuffled to the apartment complex’s cramped gym, the air shifting around Tara and her shelter’s stability becoming precarious as he started a half-hearted jog on the treadmill. Still, it’s not like she could just leave… she just had to ride this out too.

Heat bloomed across Alex’s body as he picked up speed, and trickles of sweat began to merge together in Tara’s sanctuary, pooling fast. She gasped in realization as the salty tide filled her little nook, flailing at the now sweat-slick brown walls of his navel, her cries drowned by the thud of his pulse. She couldn’t let it sweep her away – falling to the treadmill below in a droplet of sweat would result in instant, assured death. Soon enough, even that option was taken from her as the sweat beaded up around her and she discovered that she did not have the physical strength to break its surface tension from within. It simply bent outward around her weakly-pushing limbs as her vision began to dim. The liquid finally won out over her resistance, flooding into her burning lungs, stinging her eyes and nose as she thrashed in her final moments, a speck lost in the flood. She never did get washed away… the acidity of the sweat completely dissolved her remains there in the small hollow she had thought might protect her. She was gone long before Alex finished his workout, melted away as if she had never even been.

Ending 12: Pit Stop (Armpit smother/crush)

Aiko had been flung into the trimmed, dense thicket of Alex’s armpit, her tiny form lost among the wiry hairs as he sprinkled speck-girls all over his body. She hadn’t seen any of the others since landing, and assumed she was alone here. She gripped her handholds at the base of a dark, redwood-sized strand, praying the giant’s exhausted stillness would spare her. He lounged for a time, her fragile hope holding… but it couldn’t last forever. After a while of lounging, he grumbled to himself a bit, stood up, and shuffled to the apartment’s low-budget “gym”, determined to stay in shape even if he really wasn’t feeling it today. The treadmill hummed, his arm clamping down with each stride, sealing her in a tightening vice of skin and hair. But she managed to tough it out, relieved when he turned off the vast machine and stepped away. The relief was short-lived once again, as he moved on to the free weights and began his routine lifting them. The humid air around her promptly vanished with each lift of that arm, replaced by suffocating heat and pressure as his armpit folded against itself, crushing her against the damp flesh. Then light and air returned… only to disappear again a moment later. Again. Again. She lost track of how many near-death experiences she had suffered through within a few minutes of this huge brown boy doing his lifts. Finally, during a set of bicep curls, her ‘luck’ ran out. His arms stayed pinned at his sides to isolate the curling muscle set, and there was no more relief to be had. Aiko whimpered, too weak now to do anything louder. Her fragile little body gave way to the inexorable pressure, her ribs snapping like twigs, her final plea of “No, please, I don’t want to d-” muffled into silence as the armpit squeezed the life out of her, the last bits of air pressed from her tiny lungs and replaced with nothing. Her life ended there, first smothered and broken, then smeared into a faint stain among the hairs. Completely unnoticed by the boy sweating off his stress. Later, in the shower, as water cascaded over his frame, he also washed what was left of her broken body free, a faint pinkness instantly diluted to nothing in the water’s stream, swirling down the drain with the rest of his sweat and grime.

Ending 13: Feeling Drained (Washed down shower drain)

Elise clung to the warm skin of Alex’s chest, smooth but not too smooth for purchase at dust size. She was a tiny survivor desperately clinging to this titanic boy, a speck right on a larger freckle’s edge, her body trembling from the packet’s violent spill. She’d endured hours there – heart pounding, breath shallow from constant fear of losing her grip – watching his chest rise and fall, a living landscape oblivious to her presence. It had been even worse when the titanic boy had decided to go work out at the apartment complex’s gym, rivulets of sweat threatening to sweep her away or drown her constantly and quick motions turning the calmer landscape from earlier into a much bigger threat.

She thought of her loved ones, her fiancée. She’d never see them again now. Her life was now reduced to this fragile perch, her only victory outlasting the others by a few hours, days at most. Her morose thoughts were interrupted by something. A sound, and a motion.

The world shook with every step as Alex walked, peeling off his sweat-soaked shirt with a groan, and trudging to the bathroom to wash away the sweat of the day. Elise could now see the face of her captor, though she had to cling tightly to him as he leaned forward to turn the shower knobs. She could see him… for what little good it did her at this scale. He would never hear her voice, even if there was no other noise. Steam clouded the air, and water roared deafeningly as water droplets blasted against tile. Alex stepped into the stream.

Elise’s grip faltered when the first drops hit, warm torrents crashing down on her like a divine flood, the hot deluge tearing her from her haven. She tumbled down his torso, a speck in the rivulets tracing his skin – past his ribs, over the dip of his navel – screaming for help despite knowing none would come, trying to find purchase with clawing hands but sliding too quickly now to grip anything. The current swept her down, down, down to his feet and then off of them to the shower floor. Her tiny form was carried in lazy arcs by the swirling oceans of intermingling soap and grime until she swirled toward the drain, a dark maw consuming the day’s dirt. As she stared at the gaping void of the drain approaching steadily, something inside her mind broke. She finally gave up. Nothing would stop what was about to happen, and she would be swept away into the pipes to drown alone and in the dark. The broken little woman even laughed, briefly, as she crested the edge and gazed into the black depths below. Then… she was gone. No one would ever know her fate.

Ending 14: Inhale, Exhale (Nasal death)

The cluster of tiny women spun through the air, flung from the packet at a wild angle. Their screams were swallowed up by a torrential rush of wind as Alex’s very next breath accidentally pulled them in. His nostrils loomed for a moment, dark tunnels promising nothing good for the speck-like people, and then they were inside. The warm, humid wind of his ongoing breathing battered their fragile bodies about in the dark tunnels. One slammed into a coarse nose hair at hurricane-like windspeeds, her fragile frame crumpling on impact, a red stain covering part of the strand as her life vanished in a blink, unnoticed by the giant above. Her now-limp body vanished immediately after, sucked into the darkness by the same winds. Another flailed, cartwheeling deeper, until she plunged head-first into a sticky pool of… her mind recoiled at even thinking of the word. Its thick, slimy grip dragged her under. She thrashed pointlessly, her lungs burning as she expired, calling out for loved ones she’d never see again, her cries lost in the dense mess. A third clung to the cavity’s wall, trembling, only to be dislodged by his next snort, her body smeared against the flesh in a fleeting streak, broken bits tumbling out into the open air and to the ground far below, fragments of dust and nothing more. And yet another unfortunate woman never brushed against a hair or wall or anything, inhaled fully into the darkness of this boy’s body with a vanishing cry, gone in a moment. Alex sighed softly, sprawling wider on the couch, his every breath a casual death sentence, a rhythm with no end dooming tiny souls with very definite ends.

Ending 15: Treading ‘Water’ (Watersports)

Marie trembled in the damp folds of Alex’s underwear, clinging to the fabric and shivering in fear since being dumped there earlier. She’d survived his gym jog, the heat and sway bruising her tiny frame, when a slight change stirred her prison. Alex slowed mid-stride on his way back from the apartment’s gym, feeling a certain pressure built up to uncomfortable levels. His steps veered toward the bathroom, the fluorescent hum of the small space filling the silence as he shoved open the door and stepped over to the nearest urinal. Marie’s grip faltered as he tugged his underwear down, and she tumbled free in a moment of shock, plummeting into the cold, off-white bowl of the urinal without even a splash. She looked up and realized what had happened. Where she was. Before she could release the oncoming scream, a golden deluge crashed down – Alex’s stream hammering her, hot and relentless, nearly drowning her as it flooded her mouth and eyes. It was an indirect hit or she would have died instantly. Instead, she was thrown around the enclosed space, bashing against the ceramic rim repeatedly. She was battered but alive, by the time his stream weakened and ended. He didn’t even flush, leaving her there to drift.

And so she floated there, staring upward in her dazed state, the pain of bruises and broken bones seeming almost distant, as if someone else’s body had just been through that hell instead of hers. The walls loomed, slick and grimy and unclimbable, trapping her in this reeking hell. Her heart sank—her vibrant existence reduced to a speck in a urinal—when a shadow darkened the edge. Another young man had entered and stepped up to her prison, his cock a dangling omen far above. Marie’s voice broke, “N-no, please – not like-!” as the next hot, yellow cascade began. This one was not as gentle, or as indirect. Or as survivable. Small mercies.