Voyeuristic Tendencies: Timing is Everything

A GTS Enterprises Story

by D.X. Machina

Where I planned to spend it was another story.

I'd pretty much hit all the usual suspects--health clubs, college dorms, the mall--and I was at a loss to figure out where to target women next. I debated the strip club--but I've never been a fan of the nasty women there. I like them a bit more normal.

So as the weekend approached, I muttered to myself. Where was I going to find some women to spy on?

* * *

I was starting to question whether I'd come to the right place.

The coffee shop was certainly a good spot to find cute girls--theoretically, at least. And there was a delightful barista behind the counter I'd considered. But the place was pretty empty, and I'd been waiting, shrunk to my tiny size, on this couch all night.

I looked at my watch. Eight o'clock. Well, time to pack it in. Maybe I'd try to find my way over to the barista. That wasn't a bad consolation prize.

I walked over the enormous plain of the sofa, preparing to climb down the cushion. I reached the edge, and began my slow descent, when I heard the rumbling.

I turned as much as I could, and saw them.

There were six of them, girls and boys. Most of them looked slightly alternative, in that suburban, not-really-alternative way. The sixth was a guy who was clearly hanging with a crowd not truly his own, as he wore a high school letter jacket with an "03" on it. They were giants all, heading right my way.

"Shit!" I cried, as I started to ascend the cushion again, knowing full well I had no time to do so. Moments later, my fears were realized as the sky darkened, and I saw a pair of jeans descending above and behind me.

The cushion deformed as tons of weight were brought to bear by a petite high school senior flopping down on the couch.

Seismic waves shuddered through the cushion, causing me to lose my grip. I fell toward the hard tile ground, sure that this was going to hurt like sin. Then, the girl crossed her jean-clad legs, catching me mid-cross, volleying me through the air.

I flew up and out at tremendous velocity, screaming obscenities as I traveled at warp speed. I started to descend toward another of the party, an attractive girl wearing liberal woman glasses, who was holding some sort of mocha latte with billowing whipped cream.

I impacted dead center of the whipped cream, and plowed several feet into cool dairy goodness. I coughed and sputtered, and then began furiously trying to pull my way out. I could hear the cream liquefying into the boiling hot coffee below. It may as well have been boiling oil. I had no desire to be cooked.

The world tilted, and I heard a rush of liquid as the coffee was pulled into the girl. Without warning, I was pulled down the hatch.

* * *

Now, just so you don't worry, the particular device I use affords me some protection from stomach acids. It gets very complex and technical when explained using physics, which is why it wasn't explained that way.

"It's magic," my sales rep had told me a few times in, when I started asking about specs. "Stomach acid won't kill you--well, not unless you bathe in it for a few years. It's not pleasant, but you'll come out none the worse for wear. Now, coming out--that's the problem.

It was indeed. As I floated in the sea of the girl's stomach, I knew that there were only two exits for me--neither one particularly pleasant. I also knew that I would have a slim margin for error no matter which portal I exited through. I had no desire to try to survive the sewers. Now, a few of you may wonder why I didn't just return to normal size. Other than causing my host to explode, there wasn't a reason not to. But I'd long ago come to peace with the idea that I was running a risk, and it was mine; I wouldn't risk even the health of a host to save my life. After all, they were providing me with a tremendous service. It was the least I could do.

I was growing frustrated. I could hear my hostess' conversation reverberating throughout my world, and occasionally, I found myself doused in coffee. For the most part, though, life inside a stomach is pretty boring.

After a while, I dozed off, which is why I was so surprised when I awoke to what seemed to be gymnasics.

My hostess was lying at a forty-five degree incline, and the world was pitching and heaving like a ship in a storm. I was tossed back and forth as the world moved about. Suddenly, there was a massive shudder, and I heard her cry out with joy.

I listened through the walls of her stomach, listening for the person who was assisting her. But I heard nobody. Presently, I realized that person was all around me; she had been masturbating.

We lay there for a while, until the girl laid down completely, and presently, the sound of her steady breathing told me she was asleep.

* * *

It's not hard breaking through the barriers that close off the stomach from the esophagus; harder still to move up throught the esophagus when muscles are constantly pushing you downward. And getting through the epiglottis and out into the throat? Damn near impossible.

But I was patient, and I was determined. And though it took me almost eight hours, I emerged victorious just as the girl was getting up.

Of course, she immediately coughed me out.

I flew through the air, and floated dizzyingly until I landed in a massive jewelry box, hitting hard against the post on pair of hoop earrings.

I was just starting to look for a way out when I heard the door open. "LIZ, ARE YOU UP?"

"JUST GETTING UP, WHY?"

"I'M GOING TO THE MALL. CAN I BORROW A PAIR OF EARRINGS?"

"IS KYLE GOING TO BE THERE?"

"MAYBE."

Liz laughed immensely. "GO AHEAD, SIS. KNOCK YOURSELF OUT."

An enormous, younger face filled the sky. It was Liz' sister all right, virtually the same person minus three years. All she needed to do was trade her blonde hair for Liz' raven hair, and add a pair of glasses, and she'd be her sister. Lucky girl.

Not so lucky me, however. The younger sister's eyes locked on my position, and immediately, her mouth opened, and she said, "CAN I WEAR THE HOOP EARRINGS?"

"WHY NOT?"

"JUST WONDERING."

She grasped my handhold with reckless abandon, and like she'd done it a million times, shoving the post through her ear.

I was clinging with all my might, and that probably kept me from getting knocked off; instead, I found myself inside the fleshy part of a young girl's ear. "THANKS, LIZ!" the voice screamed, before the girl headed out to every Freshman's dream, a day at the mall.

* * *

I finally got my head free to see where I was, and instantly regretted it.

We were walking at high speed through a typical suburban mall, the girl's earlobe bouncing and swaying with each step. After a little bit, we stopped at a clothing store, and the girl picked out a few outfits to try on.

We reached the changing room, and the girl pulled her shirt off. Unfortunately, it caught the earring and ripped it free of her ear. I remained behind.

"DAMN IT, WHERE DID IT GO?" she said, dropping to her knees to find the errant earring and back. It didn't take her long before she was back up, pushing the earring through again.

I saw the post coming in slow motion. It was too thick to impale me, but plenty thick enough to hurt. Instinctively I put my hands out against the onslaught; the post pushed me through her ear and into the netherworld.

I plunged to the floor below, impacting on the deck of her open-toed sandal. I looked up at the young girl, stripped down to her panties and bra, looking at the outfits she could find at American Eagle. She was pretty cute, in a young sort of way. I was more into the older girls, though; high school senior was pretty much my floor. I rose slowly, and started to find a way out of here.

I got to the edge as the girl tried on her second outfit. I wanted to climb if I could--I wasn't sure jumping would get me clear enough for safety. Just as I was mulling this, the girl put her original skirt back on, and slid her foot into the sandal.

I was unprepared as the massive pad slid toward me. I moved as far forward as I could, and fortunately was not knocked off. The girl began walking, though, and it was all I could do to hang on.

We hadn't gotten very far into the mall when the inevitable happened. I lost my grip and went tumbling to the ground. Fortunately, I lost my grip as the girl was striding away, so I wasn't crushed. I was just in the middle of a mass of people on a busy Saturday. No problem.

I bobbed and weaved, looking for somewhere--anywhere--I could go for safety. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure leaning over, tying a shoe. I didn't hesitate, I ran at top speed. I see an object on the ground--a pretzel! The person set it down to tie their shoe. I dive onto the paper it's resting on just as the person finishes, and lifts me into the air.

Person-sized pieces of salt rain down around me as I desperately search for cover at the bottom of the paper. I spy the person who holds me finally. It's a young girl, maybe eleven or twelve. Great.

The girl takes a violent bite out of the pretzel. I look carefully, trying to figure out an exit strategy. As she takes another bite, I decide to try to get to the cuff of her sleeve, lest I be thrown away.

I slide into the cuff of the sleeve and a little way inside of it. At some point, the girl throws away the paper, and simply spends the next few hours skipping and running and swinging her arms crazily. I hang on as best I can, grateful when I finally hear her get into a car.

I slide out of the sleeve into the girl's lap, then carefully climb down onto the seat. I'm in an enormous sedan. To my left is another girl about the same age--my previous host's friend, no doubt. Indeed, the girl who saved me from doom exits in a few minutes, leaving me in the minivan with someone I've never seen.

I hear snippets of conversation between the girl and her mother. I'm curious to see the mother--not much I can see from here--but then she says something about picking someone up from practice.

I walk across the seat to the door. I'm ready to get out of the car, and hopefully, find my way to someplace I can unshrink. I'm thinking I'll sneak down to the exit of the door when it opens, and find my way to freedom.

I'm only half way across the seat when the door opens, and I immediately plead with God that I don't want this to be the girl's brother.

It most emphatically is not.

The girl is wearing the classic soccer get-up, with her hair tied back into that mandated soccer girl ponytail. She's got dark hair and a gorgeous, tomboyish face--sort of an all-American girl look. More to the point, she has a body sculpted by years of hard practice, perfect, lean, but with breasts large enough to leave no doubt she's a woman.

Oh, and she appears to be about sixteen.

Okay, it's a little young. But after everything I've been through, screw it, I'm going to enjoy myself.

The girl slides into the backseat as someone else slides into the front; I am momentarily stunned as huge black nylon shorts descent on my position, surrounding me on all sides with the well-developed ass of a soccer player.

Fortunately, she lands with the seam right on me. I'm small enough to pull myself inside, and I'm rewarded with the stunning view of her white cotton panties. Throwing caution to the wind, I head straight for them, looking forward to the opportunity to explore her virginal territory.

About twenty minutes later, I've had a pretty good explore. I'm just playing slightly with her clit when suddenly, light appears.

A huge finger assaults the area, tracing along the labia beneath me. Well, I made her masturbate. Not the first time.

But the finger moves toward me, circling slowly, until it comes upon me. It touches me, pushing down. I'm coated in her juices, and I stick to her finger. Suddenly, I'm lifted into the air.

My heart sinks as an enormous eye is turned upon me. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?" comes the inevitable question. Then, a surprise.

"YOU'RE PROBABLY MY IMAGINATION. BUT EVEN IF YOU AREN'T...TELL YOU WHAT. I'M GOING TO PUT YOU BACK DOWN THERE, AND YOU DO WHAT YOU DO. IF YOU CAN MAKE ME COME, I'LL GIVE YOU A FEW HOURS TO GET AWAY. IF NOT, WELL, I CAN'T MAKE A POLICY OF LETTING STRANGE TINY MEN PLAY WITH ME. GOT IT?"

I nodded, not that she could see it. She placed me among her bush, and I sprinted to her clitoris. Even at my tiny size, I was able to have an impact. She reacted with a satisfied glow, and said simply, "LITTLE GUY, YOU CAN GO. YOU'VE PAID THE TOLL SUFFICIENTLY. BUT DON'T BE A STRANGER. MY NAME'S JESSICA. COME BACK SOON."

I headed out quickly. I would come back, I thought, though hopefully, she'd never know it.