Chapter 2: Building Tension
She suddenly brought him up to her mouth and yawned it open wide. Before Brent knew what was happening, Blaire had licked all the way up his body with her long, powerful tongue. He couldn’t help but be aroused by this crazy show of power, but right then, his whole world went dark as she sensuously inserted his whole body into her mouth and throat. If Brent had had doubts about her ability to eat him, those doubts were now dead and laid to rest. She EASILY was able to encompass his skinny, bony little frame with her thick, plush lips, and her throat, which had accommodated untold amounts of food, was more than able to deal with him. He felt the vibrations of Blaire’s giggles rippling through the flesh of her mouth, and the sound almost split his ears.
“These people worship me, Brent,” she said softly, but with such power that it seemed to rattle his ears. She pointed to them. “Look at them, Brent — LOOK at them. They WORSHIP me!!” Brent wiped his eyes with a shaking hand and looked behind him, at the gathered crowd. They were all staring at him, their eyes wide in expectation, their mouths open slightly in anticipation. He was a piece of meat to them…a sacrificial animal for their goddess. Never in his life had Brent felt so low, so inhuman, so utterly small and inferior. Blaire bent down closer to him, her eyes wide with passion, high on power.
“They want me to eat you, Brent. They want me to EAT you!”
“Look at you,” said Blaire, standing back up to her full height and gesturing to his tiny body with an enormous hand. “You’re like a little bug…there’s nothing really human left of you. You don’t have a job… you don’t have a purpose…you can’t fuck…you can BARELY even WALK without getting out of breath… and your body…oho man, your body…you barely even HAVE a body anymore, Brent. It’s a teeny tiny little whisper of a twig — good lord, it’s a miracle that your bones don’t just break whenever you stand up. Look at your legs! And your arms! How can you even move them around anymore!? You need muscle to move! It’s unbelievable, Brent. I mean, it’s really, truly…unbelievable. I had never even thought that someone could reduce themselves to…to THIS. But you have. Oh yes, you have, because deep down, this is what you want, isn’t it? Oh my god look at you — all of this is bad enough, but you’re actually TURNED ON by it! Look at that little useless erection there! Haha, the only functioning muscle left in your body! You’re the literal definition of “pathetic,” Brent — what’s the point to you even existing at all?”
Brent had started crying and whimpering harder as Blaire laid her dirty talk on thick. He knew that everything she was saying was right…EVERYTHING. And there was nothing he could do or say to deny it. It was all true. And even as he cried, feeling the crushing hopelessness of his impending death, he started masturbating.
And recently, as Blaire had grown even taller and fatter, Brent had noticed that she was becoming more and more authoritarian. She still played around with him a good bit, as she was doing right now, but as the days went by, Brent had no choice but to admit that his relationship with his Goddess was morphing into something he had absolutely no control over whatsoever. A few months, or even weeks before, Brent had still definitely had a sense of his own identity in their relationship, however small, groveling, and submissive. But recently, with Blaire’s increased growth spurts, and his continued diminishment, he could feel himself both literally and figuratively slipping away, as he was absorbed, body and soul, into Blaire’s existence.
His choices were no longer his own. His desires were no longer his own. His sense of self was no longer his own.
Blaire was thinking about this as she sat at her desk in her office, scribbling notes onto a yellow legal pad. She was wearing a tight, low-cut blouse that showed off her enormous bosom, and a skirt that could barely contain her massive thighs. Her flesh was spilling out over the top of the skirt, and she could feel the fabric strain against her weight as she shifted in her seat.
She looked down at Brent, who was kneeling at her feet, his tiny hands massaging her calves.
He was naked, his body barely visible beneath the fleshy rolls of her thighs. She could feel his tiny fingers digging into her skin, trying to reach the muscles beneath. She smirked, watching him struggle. He was so small now, so insignificant. A mere plaything for her amusement.
"Brent," she said, her voice like thunder. "I want to discuss our project. I've been thinking about our approach to revitalizing the neighborhood."
Brent looked up at her, his eyes filled with adoration and fear. "Yes, Blaire," he whispered.
"I'm all ears."
Blaire chuckled, a low rumble that seemed to shake the very foundation of the building. "Good boy," she purred. "Now, I've been thinking. We need to make a statement, something that will really grab people's attention. Something... unforgettable."
Brent nodded, licking his lips nervously. He knew that tone in her voice, the one that promised equal parts pleasure and pain. "What do you have in mind, Goddess?"
Blaire leaned back in her chair, her massive body creaking the expensive leather.
She laced her fingers behind her head, her biceps flexing effortlessly, the muscles as large as Brent's entire body. "I've been thinking about our little... performance the other day. The way people reacted was... interesting. They were horrified, obviously, but there was also a hint of... fascination. A curiosity they couldn't quite shake."
Brent gulped, his eyes darting to the floor as he remembered the 'performance' Blaire was referring to. It had been a gruesome sight, one that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Blaire had brought him to an abandoned lot in the heart of the neighborhood they were planning to revitalize. She had set up a stage, a grand podium, and bound him to it with thick ropes. She had invited the local media, the city council, and a selection of the most influential figures in the city. Brent had watched in horror as Blaire had sauntered onto the stage, her massive body dwarfing everything around her. She had been naked, her skin glistening with sweat and oil, a sight that was both terrifying and arousing.
Blaire had then proceeded to eat. Oh god, how she had eaten.
The crowd had watched in a mix of horror and awe as Blaire had devoured a whole pig, writhing and squealing, in seconds. She had snapped the animal's spine like a twig and swallowed it whole, her giant maw stretching impossibly wide. Then, she had moved on to the buffet table, heaping plates of food, towering stacks of pancakes, whole turkeys, and sides of beef disappearing into her massive gullet with alarming ease.
Brent had watched, a mix of horror and morbid fascination churning in his stomach, as Blaire had consumed enough food to feed a small army. And then, there had been the people. Oh god, the people. She had brought them out one by one, bound and gagged, their eyes wide with terror. Brent had begged and pleaded with her, but Blaire had just laughed, a sound like thunder, and continued her feast.
She had started with the fingers, snapping them off like twigs and popping them into her mouth. Then the hands, the arms, the legs, all consumed with the same casual efficiency.
Brent had screamed and cried, his tiny body wracked with sobs, as he watched his colleagues, his friends, his acquaintances, all reduced to nothing more than food for Blaire's insatiable appetite. He had tried to intervene, to stop her, but she had simply laughed at his futile attempts, her massive body shaking with amusement.
"You're pathetic, Brent," she had said, her voice dripping with contempt. "You're nothing but a tiny little worm, wriggling around at my feet. You have no power here. None."
And he had known she was right.