Something To Hold Him Over by intergalelactic

The Witch slept like a bear. Or, at least, he was meant to. It was almost comical, how deep into sleep the man could get. Comical, and surely a blessing for all of the shrunken pets he kept.

Getting food was hardly an issue–many of them were small enough that a few crumbs could sustain them for weeks. Every so often, from the community of some of the smallest, millimeter sized tinies in the Witch’s collection, a veritable army of raiders would make the harrowing journey to the kitchen and stock up on whatever they could find. Bread, salt, sugar…Anything and everything they could get their microscopic hands on.

It was looking to be a productive night, despite the relative scarcity of the Witch’s pantries. He had been neglecting going shopping for a while, as focused on other tasks as he was. Still, it would be enough to feed those waiting for the raiders back home…They were about halfway through their respective tasks, when…

The unmistakable sound of a door being opened could be heard.

Everyone froze, stopping dead in their tracks and listening hard. They could hear the creaking of floorboards; the muffled thump of sleepy, clumsy footsteps as they trod down the hall that slowly turned into small quakes.

The Witch had woken up, and was headed right for them.

Panic immediately began to settle over the intrepid raiders, many scrambling around on the ground like chickens without their heads. They pushed and shoved each other out of the way, trying desperately to run for whatever hiding place they could find–a difficult task, considering the rather pathetic size of the bunch. About as small as a grain of rice, there were none among them that could run fast enough for cover, and those who stood on the ground could only hope that the Witch did not look down in his half-awake journey to his kitchen.

The ground shook underneath them as he approached, appearing in the doorway almost out of thin air. In the dark, his body was a looming shadow over them all, lit only by the few traces of moonlight flitting through his kitchen window. He wore nothing but a pair of soft pajama shorts and a loose tank top. His gait was sluggish, his posture slumped–clearly, he was tired. Each heavy footfall came crashing down against the tiled ground with the force of a bomb as he stared straight ahead, squinting in the low light of the evening towards his fridge. Many stood still, unable to move; others still ran, unwilling to fall to his tread.

They couldn’t be killed, of course. He had made sure their torment was never-ending. But there was nothing pleasant about being stepped on by a man almost half a mile tall, and those unfortunate enough to fall underneath his uncaring walk would find that out soon enough. He didn’t seem to notice the few pinpricks underneath him as he went, nor hear the muffled shouts the minuscule people let out, and made his way to the refrigerator uninterrupted.

He opened the great white monolith, blasting many on the ground away with the gust of frigid air that poured out of it, and blinding many more as the light from the inside illuminated the kitchen. The Witch sighed, leaning heavily on the door as he peered into the icebox. He looked…annoyed. There were deep shadows under his eyes and a scowl on his lips as his dark brown irises scanned the rather barren shelves inside for a proper snack. His hand rested atop his stomach, and all below could hear its foreboding rumble echo throughout the small kitchen.

The Witch buried his face sleepily into the crook of his arm, letting out a small groan, before shutting the fridge in frustration. He slumped against the refrigerator door, and the stunned tinies on the ground had any time to react before a giant, soft ass plummeted to the ground and buried them underneath it. Once more, he seemed so lost in the daze of sleep and his own midnight hunger that he didn’t notice the phantom feeling of millimeter sized people wriggling underneath tons and tons of his flesh.

He leaned his head back against the fridge door, running a hand through his messy red hair, muttering under his breath.

“So stupid…I knew I should have gone shopping…Nothing’s even open at this hour…”

Some of the infinitesimal raiders felt a strange pang of sympathy for him, remembering a life before this one and the familiar pain of waking up starving in the middle of the night only to be greeted with an empty fridge and broken dreams. Such sympathy was quickly snuffed out, however, when they heard the cries coming from underneath his massive frame as he adjusted himself to get comfortable on the ground, smothering them further underneath his backside.

He yawned, a terrible cacophonous sound that made many clamp their hands over their ears in an effort to ward off the pain. Slender hands went up to his eyes, trying to rub the sleep out of them as his brows furrowed in thought…and then his enormous gaze, after what seemed like ages, finally fell onto the ground–and onto one poor little man that stood quivering before him.

The smile that the Witch wore then could have frightened the Devil himself, a mischievous thing that reeked of malice.

“Well, well, look at you…Did you fancy a midnight snack as well?” He murmured, reaching forward with an arm the length of several football stadiums. Two titanic fingers pressed together on the mini man, squeezing him nice and tight against them to keep him from falling out of his grip. The tiny mortal felt his stomach leap into his throat, incredible forces wrack against his body as the enormous witch lifted him up to those cold eyes of his. They narrowed down at him, squinting in the shadows to get a better look.

The Witch hummed thoughtfully to himself, his gaze turning back to the ground, eyes widening as he noticed the sheer number of shrunken people milling about below. He let out a quiet little laugh, like church bells tolling in the night.

“Oh, how adorable!” He cooed, leaning forward so that he no longer rested on his buttocks, but on his knees, towering over the raiders and freeing those who had been trapped underneath him. His free hand came behind him, brushing off the rest of the little mortals still stuck to the fabric of his shorts. The Witch’s eyes brightened, his smile grew wider, and the tinies before him shivered as he acknowledged them.

“Is this what you all do when I’m asleep?” He asked in a voice as falsely sweet as poisoned honey. “No wonder I run out of food so quickly, you little pests keep taking it all!”

The Witch practically spat the word “pests” at them. He had always made it very clear what they were to him–bugs, if they annoyed him. Or his precious pets, if he found them cute enough.

“And now, here I am, starving because of you all…” He groaned dramatically, flopping back unceremoniously onto his ass. Those who had briefly tasted freedom were ripped of it once more, their predicament so much worse now that he knew they were down there and began to put all his weight into his backside, crushing bodies that could not break. He looked to the little man still stuck between his fingers, who looked up at him with eyes as wide as dinner plates. The man shouted up at him, pleading to be let go, apologizing profusely for “stealing” from him…but the Witch couldn’t hear a single word. He was much too small.

Instead of releasing him, he simply rolled the man idly between his forefinger and thumb.

“Thank your lucky stars it’s far too late to play with you.” The Witch muttered with a roll of his eyes. “But I must save you until morning! You’re so cute I could just eat…you…up. Huh!”

His brows lifted, realization flitted over his gaze. The man in his grip came to the same conclusion not too long after, seeing the look in the gigantic Witch’s eyes, and he squirmed helplessly in his grip.

“Now that’s not a bad idea, wouldn’t you agree?” He said, and the little thing thrashed about harder between his fingers. He kicked and screamed and fought with all his might, but the Witch felt and heard none of it. Instead, he began to loosen his hold on the now minuscule morsel, winking down at him with a smug look on his huge face.

“Oh, come now. You’ll be fine! Nice and safe and warm all night long, and I’ll let you out just in time for breakfast. Besides…”

The Witch leaned down, his lips just barely hovering over the little captive he held. Warm, hot breath rolled over his pitiful body, all sound was replaced by the low rumble of quiet whisper, each syllable rolling off his tongue in delight.

“Would you rather I fill up on all your friends?”

He pulled away to scan his pet’s face, whiter than a sheet and frantically shaking his head no. What luck–this one had morals. The Witch’s grin was blinding.

“Good boy.” He said, slowly lifting his fingers to his lips.

A gigantic wet tongue slowly slithered out from between his plush lips, like a beast from the deepest abyss. The tiny man squeezed his eyes shut as it came to him, the enormous muscle knocking into his insignificant frame like a battering ram. He was immediately drenched in saliva, and the huge tongue quickly licked over his body, each brush of a tastebud threatening to carry him off from between the Witch’s fingers.

The giant man let out a little moan of approval, smacking his lips as the grain-sized man’s taste briefly washed over his tongue. He opened his mouth wide, and carefully placed the tiny man onto his tongue. Like a pill to be dissolved. His snack briefly opened his eyes, holding back a scream as one half of his vision was taken up by the pitch black maw of his captor, and the other by tantalizing fresh air and freedom. To his horror, the Witch turned to face his comrades on the ground, proudly showing his prey off to them…before slowly pulling his tongue back into his mouth, and closing his lips.

The last thing the little man saw was the shadow of the Witch’s teeth, and the light of the moon through the window. After that, everything was dark. Pure darkness. Never in all his days had he experienced such shadow.

It was muggy and so, so, so wet as saliva pooled all around him. He could hear each breath the Witch took, feel every beat of his heart. Once more, he moaned in delight, leaving his ears ringing and the wind knocked out of him. The fleshy tongue beneath him stirred, and he held on for dear life as it moved. With no warning, it pressed it and himself against the roof of the Witch’s mouth, drenching him further as he began to savor the little man’s flavor as if he were a piece of hard candy.

The tiny man’s ears popped as the pressure changed with each long suck, his body was battered and bruised by the giant tongue prodding at him. Licking him. He began to wish he were anywhere else, crushed underfoot or sat on or hell, he’d take being one of the unlucky fools trapped in the Witch’s crotch! Anything but this!

He was beaten and sucked until there was nothing left to give, and at that point, the Witch was finally done with his snack. The pressure released, and the man fell onto the tongue in an exhausted heap. Though he couldn’t see, he could feel the tongue moving around. Shifting. The ground tilted until gravity took hold and he began to fall down the long tunnel of the Witch’s throat.

He gulped, loudly and theatrically, as the tiny treat made his way down to his gullet. He fell and fell, until he dropped into the Witch’s stomach. Laughter, muffled and yet somehow still all-encompassing around him, came from above.

“I bet you thought we were done, didn’t you?” The Witch teased from on high, and the little man felt warmth began to spread throughout his body. Not the burning of stomach acid he had anticipated, but something else…Like spice against his skin, it tingled as it washed over his form. The flesh against him shifted, and it wasn’t until he hit his head on the “ceiling” of the Witch’s stomach did he understand what was happening.

A man no bigger than a rice wouldn’t have a chance of easing his hunger pangs…and so, the Witch made him big enough to fill his stomach. The man grew and grew, until he had to curl in on himself just to fit inside the increasingly small belly. When he could hardly move, the growth stopped, and he could hear the Witch sigh in relief from the outside world. Everything shifted as he began to move, likely going back to bed now that his late night craving had, in some way, been fulfilled.

The man could do nothing more but close his eyes, and hope to get some rest in this new prison of his.