Lupe's Lessons - Nicole's Field Trip of Doom!
Family's New Shrink Ray
chapter 12
by
copier
· original author:
smilingwe
Gruouu…
Oh my god, there it goes again… “AIEE! HEELP!”
Lost deep inside the kind elder’s inner workings was a contest between shrill, despeate cries from a wayward shrunken teenager pitted against the native creaks and rumblings of the cavern, locked in steady conflict so as to settle which would fill in the woman’s stomach – that is, fill whatever space wasn’t already housing her previous meal that is. And for all the bars the girl’s screams could raise, her squeaky calls were merely overwhelmed even by the lesser of the cavern’s roars. She could barely listen to her own thoughts above the bouts of episodic gurgling, let alone expect anyone hear her pleas other than herself.
Such had been the last couple of minutes of Nicole’s life up until now. After barely outrunning (well, outslipping) the expanding mass of jam and dough and nearly being squashed in the process, the itsy bitsy intruder had to endure yet another close round of punishment when her teacher finally maneuvered her all the way to the back of her mouth and plunged her into the tight chasm of her throat. And still, her current placement made her yearn for the softer attrition she suffered in Mrs. Garcia’s mouth. Back where the sizzle of Nicole’s impending nutritional breakdown was nothing but a bizarre, distant nightmare.
Back then it was but a what if that she didn’t pay much thought to, and yet one world-sinking swallowing later and here she was, imprisoned in the darkest pit beneath her teacher’s chest, scattered for survival amongst the slimy mush of Mrs. Garcia’s former, non-student based meal. It only took as long for Nicole to land and roll down the hill of her teacher’s lunch for her to regret every step that led her to this acrid tomb; soon afterwards cursing her ‘brilliant’, ‘foolproof’ plan with every sputter of processing crud that followed. However, even if she admitted her first idea blew a row of bald roosters, Nicole knew she had to plot on the fly once more if she was to dig herself out of her own hole. Of course, for her to set her course back straight again, first she had to re-locate the tool that had strayed it from the start.
That’s right, the real kicker on top of this disaster dessert was that in the following chaos, amidst all of her survival struggles, from her ill-thought out shot all the way to her boat rocking in the middle of an acid storm, the tiny girl had lost her grip on the shrinking device yet again. The exact moment was lost on her, the last time Nicole registered the ray in her hands was back when she was running from the expanding bite in her teacher’s mouth; after that, everything got so hectic around her, nothing else mattered other than surviving the mouthful of chaos. Her head zoned out sometime between flooding and sinking but from one instant to the next, the device had vanished from her clutches; although she was sure that it too was swallowed along with her. At least, she hoped so, and it made her top priority to track it before the rocking sway of the stomach hid it under who knows what, or-
Uuurgl…
Or it pushed Nicole into a sea of solvent slush. Terrified as she was, Nicole could manage to pull through her daze if it meant dodging her latest, deadliest threat that was Mrs. Garcia’s latent metabolism; she didn’t fly her bike across a dozen blocks just to fatten the ass of her old hag of a teacher!
Threading barf in the dark was a trip in itself for the terrified ingested girl, first by the hurdle of collecting her footing on the muddy terrain, and that was just standing up! Then it was the matter of climbing over heap after heap of chunky slop that smelled vaguely of bran muffins and old ham… and scented heavily of vomit; a rancid stench that could only brew from days-old gunk stewing in an old hag’s pot. All in whatever ‘safety’ this deathtrap could afford her.
However, whether Nicole realized it or not, but her teacher’s cranky age actually worked in the girl’s favor for once since Mrs. Garcia’s belly was rather calm in its breakdown of a bisquet-and-salad diet; and even the loud, restless churning that fielded her trip was actually but a slight rocking that slowly stirred the doughy mass along with the rest of the bubbling stomach goop.
Nicole doubted that she could ever feel clean again after dragging herself through the sloppy slurry, she would spend days on end and still wouldn’t get all the bits out of her hair or from under her nails, and the less she thought about ridding herself of the smell, the better. Despite these struggles, however, the misadventurous teen braved on; after all, she knew that ploughing her way through what maybe once was some lean pastrami beat her only other route.
Urooo…
Her poor heart beated itself out of a pulse after every whine that erupted from the age-strained organ shook her whole world. Nicole wasn never good at working under pressure, this was just too much. Her whole body rattled, echoing from the groans jostling the waters, streams of sweat and tears ran down her face and even washed some slime away, she just prayed over and over in her head for the machine to appear and her torment to end. Yet her fears were mounting up, and she felt that a dip in the bubbling pool of slime lurking in the dark was in order for her; that her twisted fate would ensure that she would never skip Mrs. Garcia’s class again on behalf of her every trace being assimilated by the woman’s system.
They would only find her bike, but they wouldn’t tail her track to the teacher’s home, and no one, not even Mrs. Garcia, would ever assume that the girl’s whereabouts lead into the strech-marked middle of her kindly school teacher. Oh, but they would find her drawing instead, Mrs. Garcia would surely hand over that stupid doodle as a clue or something. That’s how she’d be known: Nicole, the pervert pre-teen who vanished and left without a trace, probably to live off her dreams of fucking. That’s how her family will remember her.
Gllp… Sqlshh…
“Oh god… please… no more…”
Yet another boulder to top her odyssey was sent her way, which of course was the matter of her teacher still enjoying her dessert at Nicole’s expense. Nicole had given Mrs. Garcia plenty more pie to enjoy after all, so the girl could only expect her to eat her fill; and with it, she’d have more mush to dig through in search of her only exit. She clenched her fists and grimaced, first she loses the device, gets eaten by her teacher, has to fish out the gadget in the dark, and now she has to avoid a landslide again? As if her day hadn’t gone to the drain enough! – Although, it was well headed that way anyways.
There was little time for grief though, and the girl had to react within moments from picking up the sharp sign to brace herself on the sludge she was climbing however she could, before another load of mush was dumped into Mrs. Garcia’s belly. A chain of slick squishes culminated in a tight squelch, followed by a whoosh and just like that, Nicole was shaken in her place by the arrival of slop. And then another, and another one after that. Nicole winced like a broken record as wave after wave of chunky, slimy slop descended into Mrs. Garcia´s depths. No wonder she has such a fat ass!
And then she sobbed, since she was in growing danger of getting added to that fat ass. Nicole Jordan, former honor roll candidate, future fat roll list topper.
As a last note to her short list of graces, these chunks were mostly strings of thin, thoroughly chewed lumps that didn’t rock her place at all when they fell onto the pile, for now at least; although they still landed with enough force so as to aid Nicole in compassing the entrance to the stomach against her position, so she could avoid it at all costs. But lightweight as they were, Nicole didn’t want to risk loosening her grip expecting a soft batch to come in, only for a meteor to crash and shockwave her off right into the deep end of Mrs. Garcia’s gastric pool.
Gulp after gulp, splat after splat, Nicole crawled at a snail’s pace, hauling a trail just as slimy, hoping that along the way she would brush a hard cased item amongst the heaps of mush. Yet not only did her search yielded solid chunks of wheat or lettuce or grains at best, but also grazed her more than once with the thick slime awash inside the sac. Nicole shuddered and curled back in disgust whenever she felt the warm slick of chyme singe her naked skin; which happened more and more often as her clothes tattered further and she wandered nearer to the puddles of goo collected along the island of mush.
But of course, fate had yet to throw one last stone Nicole’s way, and of course it would be its heaviest yet. It began as a faint, distant slushing which gained volume steadily as it approached the girl’s prison. Nicole almost didn’t hear it over the chamber’s endless rumbling; but once the nearing echoes reached her, it stole the focus of her worries. The gulps were sharp and deep, and sounded very bubbly; so much unlike the ones that preceded the pie mush.
Finally it arrived; the ceiling squelched open and released a waterfall in torrential rage. Gallons of thick fluid spilled into the pit to disturb the course of an otherwise calm metabolism, spraying every surface and blending with the homebrewed slimes for a thicker build; and not to mention, jostle the loose, chunky contents around in the ensuing typhoon. In mere seconds, the vat of slow-cooking wheat sludge flooded into a bubbling, chamomile-infused soup of warm chyme, sloshing in whirpools and random floating bits as the tea settled inside...
Oh my god, there it goes again… “AIEE! HEELP!”
Lost deep inside the kind elder’s inner workings was a contest between shrill, despeate cries from a wayward shrunken teenager pitted against the native creaks and rumblings of the cavern, locked in steady conflict so as to settle which would fill in the woman’s stomach – that is, fill whatever space wasn’t already housing her previous meal that is. And for all the bars the girl’s screams could raise, her squeaky calls were merely overwhelmed even by the lesser of the cavern’s roars. She could barely listen to her own thoughts above the bouts of episodic gurgling, let alone expect anyone hear her pleas other than herself.
Such had been the last couple of minutes of Nicole’s life up until now. After barely outrunning (well, outslipping) the expanding mass of jam and dough and nearly being squashed in the process, the itsy bitsy intruder had to endure yet another close round of punishment when her teacher finally maneuvered her all the way to the back of her mouth and plunged her into the tight chasm of her throat. And still, her current placement made her yearn for the softer attrition she suffered in Mrs. Garcia’s mouth. Back where the sizzle of Nicole’s impending nutritional breakdown was nothing but a bizarre, distant nightmare.
Back then it was but a what if that she didn’t pay much thought to, and yet one world-sinking swallowing later and here she was, imprisoned in the darkest pit beneath her teacher’s chest, scattered for survival amongst the slimy mush of Mrs. Garcia’s former, non-student based meal. It only took as long for Nicole to land and roll down the hill of her teacher’s lunch for her to regret every step that led her to this acrid tomb; soon afterwards cursing her ‘brilliant’, ‘foolproof’ plan with every sputter of processing crud that followed. However, even if she admitted her first idea blew a row of bald roosters, Nicole knew she had to plot on the fly once more if she was to dig herself out of her own hole. Of course, for her to set her course back straight again, first she had to re-locate the tool that had strayed it from the start.
That’s right, the real kicker on top of this disaster dessert was that in the following chaos, amidst all of her survival struggles, from her ill-thought out shot all the way to her boat rocking in the middle of an acid storm, the tiny girl had lost her grip on the shrinking device yet again. The exact moment was lost on her, the last time Nicole registered the ray in her hands was back when she was running from the expanding bite in her teacher’s mouth; after that, everything got so hectic around her, nothing else mattered other than surviving the mouthful of chaos. Her head zoned out sometime between flooding and sinking but from one instant to the next, the device had vanished from her clutches; although she was sure that it too was swallowed along with her. At least, she hoped so, and it made her top priority to track it before the rocking sway of the stomach hid it under who knows what, or-
Uuurgl…
Or it pushed Nicole into a sea of solvent slush. Terrified as she was, Nicole could manage to pull through her daze if it meant dodging her latest, deadliest threat that was Mrs. Garcia’s latent metabolism; she didn’t fly her bike across a dozen blocks just to fatten the ass of her old hag of a teacher!
Threading barf in the dark was a trip in itself for the terrified ingested girl, first by the hurdle of collecting her footing on the muddy terrain, and that was just standing up! Then it was the matter of climbing over heap after heap of chunky slop that smelled vaguely of bran muffins and old ham… and scented heavily of vomit; a rancid stench that could only brew from days-old gunk stewing in an old hag’s pot. All in whatever ‘safety’ this deathtrap could afford her.
However, whether Nicole realized it or not, but her teacher’s cranky age actually worked in the girl’s favor for once since Mrs. Garcia’s belly was rather calm in its breakdown of a bisquet-and-salad diet; and even the loud, restless churning that fielded her trip was actually but a slight rocking that slowly stirred the doughy mass along with the rest of the bubbling stomach goop.
Nicole doubted that she could ever feel clean again after dragging herself through the sloppy slurry, she would spend days on end and still wouldn’t get all the bits out of her hair or from under her nails, and the less she thought about ridding herself of the smell, the better. Despite these struggles, however, the misadventurous teen braved on; after all, she knew that ploughing her way through what maybe once was some lean pastrami beat her only other route.
Urooo…
Her poor heart beated itself out of a pulse after every whine that erupted from the age-strained organ shook her whole world. Nicole wasn never good at working under pressure, this was just too much. Her whole body rattled, echoing from the groans jostling the waters, streams of sweat and tears ran down her face and even washed some slime away, she just prayed over and over in her head for the machine to appear and her torment to end. Yet her fears were mounting up, and she felt that a dip in the bubbling pool of slime lurking in the dark was in order for her; that her twisted fate would ensure that she would never skip Mrs. Garcia’s class again on behalf of her every trace being assimilated by the woman’s system.
They would only find her bike, but they wouldn’t tail her track to the teacher’s home, and no one, not even Mrs. Garcia, would ever assume that the girl’s whereabouts lead into the strech-marked middle of her kindly school teacher. Oh, but they would find her drawing instead, Mrs. Garcia would surely hand over that stupid doodle as a clue or something. That’s how she’d be known: Nicole, the pervert pre-teen who vanished and left without a trace, probably to live off her dreams of fucking. That’s how her family will remember her.
Gllp… Sqlshh…
“Oh god… please… no more…”
Yet another boulder to top her odyssey was sent her way, which of course was the matter of her teacher still enjoying her dessert at Nicole’s expense. Nicole had given Mrs. Garcia plenty more pie to enjoy after all, so the girl could only expect her to eat her fill; and with it, she’d have more mush to dig through in search of her only exit. She clenched her fists and grimaced, first she loses the device, gets eaten by her teacher, has to fish out the gadget in the dark, and now she has to avoid a landslide again? As if her day hadn’t gone to the drain enough! – Although, it was well headed that way anyways.
There was little time for grief though, and the girl had to react within moments from picking up the sharp sign to brace herself on the sludge she was climbing however she could, before another load of mush was dumped into Mrs. Garcia’s belly. A chain of slick squishes culminated in a tight squelch, followed by a whoosh and just like that, Nicole was shaken in her place by the arrival of slop. And then another, and another one after that. Nicole winced like a broken record as wave after wave of chunky, slimy slop descended into Mrs. Garcia´s depths. No wonder she has such a fat ass!
And then she sobbed, since she was in growing danger of getting added to that fat ass. Nicole Jordan, former honor roll candidate, future fat roll list topper.
As a last note to her short list of graces, these chunks were mostly strings of thin, thoroughly chewed lumps that didn’t rock her place at all when they fell onto the pile, for now at least; although they still landed with enough force so as to aid Nicole in compassing the entrance to the stomach against her position, so she could avoid it at all costs. But lightweight as they were, Nicole didn’t want to risk loosening her grip expecting a soft batch to come in, only for a meteor to crash and shockwave her off right into the deep end of Mrs. Garcia’s gastric pool.
Gulp after gulp, splat after splat, Nicole crawled at a snail’s pace, hauling a trail just as slimy, hoping that along the way she would brush a hard cased item amongst the heaps of mush. Yet not only did her search yielded solid chunks of wheat or lettuce or grains at best, but also grazed her more than once with the thick slime awash inside the sac. Nicole shuddered and curled back in disgust whenever she felt the warm slick of chyme singe her naked skin; which happened more and more often as her clothes tattered further and she wandered nearer to the puddles of goo collected along the island of mush.
But of course, fate had yet to throw one last stone Nicole’s way, and of course it would be its heaviest yet. It began as a faint, distant slushing which gained volume steadily as it approached the girl’s prison. Nicole almost didn’t hear it over the chamber’s endless rumbling; but once the nearing echoes reached her, it stole the focus of her worries. The gulps were sharp and deep, and sounded very bubbly; so much unlike the ones that preceded the pie mush.
Finally it arrived; the ceiling squelched open and released a waterfall in torrential rage. Gallons of thick fluid spilled into the pit to disturb the course of an otherwise calm metabolism, spraying every surface and blending with the homebrewed slimes for a thicker build; and not to mention, jostle the loose, chunky contents around in the ensuing typhoon. In mere seconds, the vat of slow-cooking wheat sludge flooded into a bubbling, chamomile-infused soup of warm chyme, sloshing in whirpools and random floating bits as the tea settled inside...
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November 12
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