Sarah's Find - Chapter 6

Like a soldier in an action movie, you begin to rappel down her forehead using her bangs. It's difficult with the sheer amount of hairs surrounding you. The image of the other tiny person ensnared up above in the immense forest of her brunette locks is still fresh and you cannot let yourself fall into that trap. What's worse is that every movement, no matter how slight, your massive hostess makes, her long hair reacts. Ordinarily, a girl with such a flowing mane would be a tremendous delight, now, absurdly, it threatens your very life. If you were to fall now, the only thing you could do would be to hope that the flesh of her immense cleavage was soft enough to cushion your landing. That, and hope that you wouldn't land between them and get smothered as you nearly were earlier.

Speaking of her large boobs, you have a uniquely wonderful view of them from this vantage point. From here, it is almost as if you share her very own perspective. This is what the world looks like from her eyes. Every time her gaze wonders down, she is graced with the proud swell of her ample bosom, which, like her hair, swayed and jostled with every little step, every little move. Your mind riddled with lust, you can't help but wonder how many other of her fellow female peers have looked upon her with seething green envy. How many people, both male and female, discovered their own lust by admiring her appearance? There was something undeniably powerful about the allure of a female as attractive as the one you were scaling. How many guys catcalled as she walked past, or they drove by (all power comes at a price)? You don't know the answer to these questions, but they fascinate you. This perspective fascinates you. Her perspective fascinates you. You want to experience it longer. And you know the perfect place to do that: right at the tip of her nose.

The problem, however, is that her bangs only reach down to her eyebrows. Longer hairs are brushed off to the sides of her eyes, too far from her nose to use. Even if you wriggled your way over to them, you doubt your tiny body would be able to generate enough swing to reach anyway. Your only option would be to slide down her face and hope you can stop yourself. Otherwise, you fall straight off the mountain and down into the Canyon of Cleavage. You know it's a ridiculous plan, but spending the past few days at this puny size, trapped in the jungle of the lawn of the park, has broken all standards of normal you had for life. That, coupled with your magnified lust for this especially magnified girl, allows you to tread your feet against her forehead, right between the eyebrows, to attempt to angle yourself in a way so that you will fall directly for her nose. Once you feel you are properly lined up, you take a deep breath...and let go.

It goes wrong immediately.

Somehow, your foot gets snarled in a tiny hair in at the very end of her eyebrow and, instead of sliding down feet first, you are spun around and are falling headfirst. You meant to slide straight down to the bridge of her nose, but you're now going down towards the right side. You make contact with her cheek and you attempt to grab something. One of your flailing hands manages to grab one of the many tiny vellus hairs that dot her face (so tiny and thin that they are almost translucent, even at your size), but you only manage to have hold of it for a moment before it slips free. You're sliding right past her nose and headed for her lips. It is only now that you realize that you might possibly wind up in her mouth. If that happens you might be in REAL trouble. Even assuming you don't drown in saliva, or get crushed by a molar, there will be a high chance you'll get swallowed alive. Even your lust isn't strong enough to accept potential digestion willingly!

But just as her lips seem crashing forward, you suddenly fell yourself slowing down. Then, a full stop. And finally, you begin to be pulled in reverse, lifted off the flesh and sent into a swirling pinwheel. You glimpse a massive dark chasm up above for a half of a second, but it is enough for you to realize exactly what is happening.

Your fears of being tangled in the brunette hairs up above are nothing to the madness here. Immediately upon entering the cavern, you find yourself caught in a nasty snarl of coarse nose hairs that establish a strong grip on your limbs. This is a bit of a blessing as it prevents the howling winds from drawing you up further into the darkness that would be the girl's respiratory system. But you also are trapped and must find a way to get out!

The only light comes from the opening of the nostril down below, which doesn't illuminate much. You see slimy trails of mucus up above, boulders of dried boogers ensnared as much as you are, and...something else. For a moment, you can't see what it is. With each breath, the winds roar and pull and tug at you, causing much movement throughout the cavern. Still, you think you see something moving. Yes! A person. Another person just like you, hanging a bit lower down the cavern walls than you. Unlike the one from before, this one is very much alive and in very much the same position as you. They are flexing their arms and kicking their legs, squirming against the hairs, attempting to free themselves. You consider trying to yell out to them, but they are far from you, and the torrent of wind will surely drown out your voice. If not that, her voice certainly will. She continues her conversation, presumably still with Natalie Veronica. Her speech alters her breathing and each inhalation feels like a hurricane for you and every indecipherable word is like an explosion. The climate is also unbearable. The winds of inhales are sharp and cold, the ones of exhales are long and sweltering.

You try to look down at yourself, to try and assess how tangled you truly are, when the light from below is cut off. A long, fleshy finger is poking in, like a curious dog peeking through a hole in a fence. The black fingernail at the tip immediately digs against the soft walls of the cavern, specifically aiming towards your fellow, unfortunate friend. You no longer have visual of them as you assume they are ground and squished against the unstoppable might of the nail. After a scratches, the finger pushes itself up further, its razorsharp black head edging perilously closer. You try to move, to try and climb up further to escape being sliced up by it is of no use. You can only watch.

The finger stops right below you. It begins to twist, the edges of the nail digging into the flesh. You hear dried boogers breaks and crumble, the sounds of which genuinely sound like gravel rubble tumbling down at mountain. You hear slick, wet sounds as mucus is splotched and sloshed around, and rough scratchy sounds as the coarse hairs wrapped and pulled. You lift your feet to avoid the nail slicing them clean off. After a few rigorous twists, the finger flexed, raking against the soft flesh beneath you before receding back out from whence it came, a thin film of mucus coating it. As it retreats, you see your unfortunate friend sliding down alongside it, seemingly freed from his nasal chains. You only witness him for the briefest of moments; the instant the finger has fully retracted from the cavern, a sharp flow of air whips through, snatching him up. The hairs, flattened and pressed against the walls from the finger, have not been able to re-extend themselves and he sails past them without so much as grazing any. Meanwhile, your body feels as if it is experiencing g-force. It's like Bill Paxton and Helen Hunt being chained to the pipe while in the heart of the twister. Pause. A second torrent of gusting wind blast through with another sharp inhale. Then, a much slower exhale and the hot, humid, internal air wafts against you and you start sweating almost instantly.

Your friend doesn't come back down.

It is imperative that you do not share his fate, whatever that may be. You again try to focus on untangling yourself but the task seems impossible. She begins to speak again and, in doing so, brings forth further madness. The booming din of her voice, the rapid flow, in and out, of air as she breathes. You are practically inside her right now; stuck in the middle of her inner mechanisms. Wading through the air ducts of her body; constantly working, gobbling and expelling air to sustain speech. The only positive is that you are in here and not in her mouth, with pools of saliva and immense tongue flipping and flopping about, along with teeth clamping, each working busily to construct words. All these functions working seamlessly, without little conscious effort, requiring the smallest bit of effort. And you are simply a small trespasser caught within them, powerless to hinder them even slightly. You can only endure and hope they don't tread over you.

These thoughts race through your mind, eroding your lust. Panic takes its place and you begin to violently tug and pull against the coarse wires holding you in place. You might be screaming. It's hard to tell. The roar of the winds drown out all other sound. Adrenaline begins to flow through you and you madly tear at the hairs wrapped around you. For what seems like an eternity they refuse to relent, but finally you manage to rip one arm free. You then claw at your other snared up limbs. You're just about to free one of your feet when a thought suddenly stops you. If she is inhaling when you untie yourself, it's game over. You'll join your unfortunate friend up above. Far up the nasal cavity and down the windpipe and into her lungs. You're not even sure what will happen to you there. Drown in mucus? Pass out from not being able to breath the intensely rushing air? Maybe you'll be to irritate something down there so she coughs and projects you back up. But even then you'll wind up in her mouth and from there she'll either take another breath and send you right back down or swallow you. And once you end up in her stomach there's no coming back out. At least not in any recognizable form. You will have to time your freeing yourself with her exhaling and from there you'll hopefully avoid her mouth and fall down to her soft cleavage.

It suddenly occurs to you that the air has suddenly become suspiciously still.

A powerful eruption explodes from above, blasting a massive glut of mucus. You are ripped from your hairy prison and shot out like a cannon down through the nostril and blinded by the light of the outside, forcing your eyes shut. All you know is that you're flying. Then, before you can even begin to think, you land into a pool of warm, thick liquid. Instinctively, you begin to thrash and kick, attempting to swim to the surface. After a few thrashes, you realize that the “pool” you are in is very shallow. You open your eyes. You are lying in a pool of thick, faintly green slime. Your clothes are coated in it. Trying to wipe it off only smears it. A great light shines behind you. Craning your neck you see a great wall of lights and displays. Even at this size you recognize a computer screen. You look down. You sit atop a smooth black surface. A large white “G” is etched into it. Then, you look in front of you.

The first thing you see are, of course, her boobs. The massive mounds of flesh extend from her chest towards you as if reaching out for you. Then, you see her face. Her mouth is slightly open, a thin line of spit dangles from the top row of her teeth and sways like a pendulum. Her eyes are glazed, unfocused. Her headphones have slid towards her forehead, seeming looking like they might slid off. Her hands hover on both sides of her face, seemingly unsure to cover her mouth or grab the headset. Her mouth stretches, yawning open. Her eyes slowly squeeze shut and her head cocks back. Her hands float towards her mouth but then her headphones begin to slid and they instinctively change course and reach for them.

“AAAH-CHOOOO!”

Her entire upper body lurches forward in a spasm, causing her heaving bosom to pound the desk. The sensation is like an earthquake to you, but the sticky mess you've landed in keeps you adhered to the G key. A mighty spray spews from both her mouth and nose, sending a rainstorm of mucus and spit flying towards you. A single powerful gust of wind slides you out of the pool and down into the maze beneath the immense keys. Up above you hear what sounds like a very heavy but absurdly quick downpour. A fury of drops spray the keys, dousing them in tiny droplets of phlegm and saliva. The whole affairs like the world's fastest typhoon: high winds, pouring rain, all happening within mere seconds.

“Whew...bless me...” Lost within the keys, you can only hear her voice. What surrounds you is filth. A thick layer (well, thick for you perhaps) of dust (now mixed with spit and snot in some places), crumbs the size of large rocks, a few hairs that managed to somehow crawl down in here. You hear a sharp inhale form up above. It hits you that you were, mere seconds ago, trapped within the nose making that sound. “Something was really itching my nose!” You stagger to your feet (standing somehow feels foreign to you now) and attempt to get a view between the thin lines of her keyboard. The only thing you're able to see are the underside of her ample chest as it hovers up above. You see one hand rubbing her bosom. “Uuh...I sneezed so hard I...bumped my boobs against my desk...” Even from down here you catch the distant sound of loud laughter emitting from the headphones. “Don't laugh at me, you bitch!” Her words are harsh, but you hear the smile.

The hand the hand that rubbed her chest then abruptly came down atop you with such speed you let out a scream. The fingers rest atop the keys, the index finger slowly tracing across the keys, feeling along the gaps. It pauses on the G key...right above you. On the other side of large keyboard, a series of quakes rumble the whole area: the fingers of her other hand rhythmically tapping. Suddenly, you are keenly aware of how much danger you're in.

“The what?” She says. Pause. “Mmmm...no, I've never heard of it. Is it....? Uh huh....really? That's.......yeah, uhuh...are you serious? No way! Shut up! You're joking! Oh my god, hold on, I gotta look that up!”

You only hear up to 'hold on' before the chaos begins. The G key is suddenly pressed down with a force that is, at least at this size, comparable to a hydraulic press going way too fast. Had and of your limbs been dangling in the key's slot, it would be swiftly removed. The air of the move sends you spiraling backward and you're only able to stop from falling into the slot of the T key by grabbing onto one of the hairs that had slipped down here. Distantly, you hear, and feel, two other keys slammed in rapid succession. Then, the G key is pressed again with a deafening din. Then more keys are pressed, some distant some close, before the enter key is pressed. You've typed for most of your life, and the sound of the enter key is very familiar. You need to get out of here. Fast!

Knowing you were on the G key, you quickly decide to head towards the left side of the keyboard to reach the edge. In your haste, you don't realize the potentially much safer passage through the lesser used number keys. You simply run, hearing the loud, explosive sounds of keys being clacked all around you. It is like exploring a landmine and being completely uncertain when one will detonate on you. You run past the T key, then between R and F, both being pressed at least once as you waddle your way through. The only thought on your mind is to just run. Don't look up, just run. This is very difficult as each key pressed sends a powerful quake through the board, shuddering your bones. Each key pressed near you threatens to blow you completely off your feet and send you sprawling. Not to mention wading through the dust and crumbs, tripping over hair along the way. The goop you are covered in causes the dust to stick to you. The D key is pressed twice as you pass it, the resulting shock waves knock you off your feet. Several crumbs jostle as well. A large one rolls into view and blocks you. Once again you stagger to your feet and, summoning whatever strength you have left after this madness, you shove the crumb aside and keep going. The crumb rolls into the slot of the E key. As soon as it does, the key is pressed and the large crumb is firmly lodged into the slot. The finger presses again. Then again. Then, it unleashes a series of rapid, strong presses.

“Damn it...” You hear her sigh. “My E key is stuck...”

A squeak echoes through the air as she leans forward. You feel a soft quake as her breasts land on the desk. Then, before you know it, you see her eye peering through the thin slots of the keyboard. You try to get back up again, but the rapid presses of the key have left you completely disoriented. You can't see all of her face, but you still see the frown through that one eye.

“Ooo...I really need to clean my keyboard.” She says. “There's...all kinds of crud in there, my goodness.”