In the lifetime that I've fantasized of tiny size and vore,
I have never had a single aspiration, where I saw
Any suicidal yearning, which would bring about my end,
If I had the chance to be a meal for teacher, date, or friend.
I'd prefer the whole experience was amicable too,
Filled with mischief, laughs and chasing games, until the hunt was through,
Then some time within the kitchen, where you'd then go on to flaunt
All the movements of your lovely mouth, with ways your tongue would taunt.
I would like to live within you, by the process known as eating,
Since digestion has the awful side effect of just defeating
Any fantasy of being gobbled down through someone's throat,
If a stomach full of acid was a deathly painful moat.
In my fantasy, the stomach of a giantess includes
A compartment, where the shrunken swallowed man enjoys the moods
Of the giantess, as she goes on to see the world outside,
Having greeted her diminutive young chap by opening wide.
We would have a great relationship of swallowed man and she
Who had gulped him down. It wouldn't matter, that I wasn't free.
If I still went on inside you, I am sure that I would feel,
So much more in love than guys who get the normal dating deal.
You'd be sweet and kind and friendly, up until you took the gulp,
Which would not reduce my body to an acid-ridden pulp.
No, instead, we'd be together for all time. I'd never brood
With regrets, when I was in there, that I'd been your favourite food.
There's no need to build an outcome dream that's steeped in death and pain,
Even if the Devil tries his best, 'til Jesus comes again,
Causing seeming random suffering, while he knows his time is short,
When we'll see the dead in Christ all raised to life, no more distraught.
Every genre has its own distinctive characters and trait,
But they're not obliged to suffer, nor inflict a fatal fate.
There's too much of that in news reports we wish were not so real;
And the victims, broken personally deserve the chance to heal.
Yonder giantess, please come and chase me, catch me, win the hunt,
Then dispatch me to your inner self, with every mouth play stunt.
Send me riding down your throat with all your neck's great gulping force,
Once you've served me at the dining table as your only course.
Let me make my home inside you, living tenant, resident
Of your science fiction tummy. I'll have truly paid the rent,
With the journey both of us enjoy, that somehow gets me there,
As we bring to life the hopes and dreams that each of us finds rare.
You've already brought to life the fact that I should be devout,
In resisting mainstream limitations, rather holding out
For a giantess connection, filled with vore dates and romance.
I'll keep hoping it will happen until I can find the chance.