The bustling energy of San Diego Comic-Con was in full swing, with fans and celebrities mingling in a whirlwind of excitement. The convention center was packed, with booths lining the walls and eager fans filling the walkways, clutching their precious memorabilia and autographs. Among them, Dafne Keen, known for her iconic roles in Logan and His Dark Materials, was making her way through the throng, preparing for a panel discussion at her booth. She was dressed casually, with a simple black top, denim shorts, and a pair of open-toed black sandals that slapped against the floor with each hurried step.
You, a fan who had been lucky enough to snag a spot near her, were eager for a moment to ask a question. With a heart pounding with excitement, you approached her, a smile plastered on your face. But in your eagerness, you made a crucial mistake. Instead of asking her about her work, her roles, or her favorite scenes, you blurted out a question about her political views—a topic she clearly wasn't in the mood to discuss.
Dafne's eyes narrowed, and her smile faded as she sized you up. Without missing a beat, she tilted her head slightly and said, “That’s really not something I want to talk about right now.” Her tone was sharp, and her gaze intense, making you instantly regret the question. But before you could apologize or backpedal, something strange happened.
Dafne’s eyes glinted with a mischievous spark, and with a barely perceptible motion of her hand, she waved it toward you. A strange sensation washed over your body as the world around you suddenly grew vast, towering, and overwhelming. You stumbled backward, feeling dizzy and disoriented as the ground rushed up to meet you. When the vertigo finally subsided, you found yourself standing on the cold, hard floor, staring up in shock and awe at the colossal figure of Dafne Keen, who now loomed over you like a giantess.
You had been shrunk to a mere two inches tall, and she was staring down at you with an amused smirk. “Maybe you should learn to ask better questions,” she quipped, lifting her sandal with a deliberate slowness. The sole, worn and slightly dirty from a day of walking around the convention, hovered above you, casting a shadow that blocked out the harsh overhead lights. You could see every detail—the ridges in the tread, the small bits of dirt stuck in the grooves, and even a faint outline of where her toes had pressed into the sandal’s surface.
Panic surged through you as the massive sandal descended. You tried to run, but your tiny legs were no match for the giantess before you. The air was filled with the overpowering scent of rubber and worn leather as the sandal came closer, threatening to crush you beneath its weight. But just as you braced for the inevitable impact, Dafne paused, her eyes darting to the watch on her wrist. A frown creased her brow as she realized she was late for her panel.
With a sigh of frustration, she lowered her sandal but kept you trapped in its shadow. “You’re lucky I don’t have time to deal with you right now,” she muttered, her voice booming in your ears. “But I can’t just leave you here either.”
Her gaze shifted to the side, and you followed her line of sight to a small piece of chewing gum she had discarded earlier, stuck to the side of the booth. A wicked smile played on her lips as she reached down, her fingers wrapping around your tiny form with a grip that was both firm and unyielding. You squirmed in her grasp, but there was no escape. The warmth of her skin was overwhelming, and the faint scent of her perfume mingled with the lingering scent of mint from her gum.
Without a second thought, she pressed you against the sticky, rubbery surface of the gum, trapping you in its clingy embrace. The sensation was immediate and suffocating, the gum pulling at your limbs and pinning you in place as it adhered to your body. It was still warm and pliable from being chewed, and you could feel its softness enveloping you like a sticky cocoon.
Satisfied with her work, Dafne popped the gum—and you—into her mouth without a moment’s hesitation. The world shifted again as you were plunged into darkness, surrounded by the wet warmth of her mouth. Her teeth clamped down on the gum, chewing with casual indifference as she began to make her way to her booth.
The pressure was relentless as her teeth mashed the gum between them, squeezing you from all sides. You could feel the gum stretching and compressing around you, its sticky surface pulling at your skin as it was worked by Dafne’s powerful jaws. Each chew was accompanied by a deafening squelch, the sound echoing in the confined space of her mouth. The sensation was overwhelming—every time her teeth came down, you were caught in the crush, pressed into the soft, yielding gum as it deformed around you. The heat inside her mouth was stifling, and the constant movement made it impossible to find any kind of relief.
Saliva pooled around you, slick and warm, mixing with the minty residue left in the gum. It coated your body, making the already sticky gum even more slippery and difficult to escape from. You could feel the gum clinging to your skin, pulling at your clothes, and tangling around your limbs as it was worked and reworked by Dafne’s teeth. Each time she shifted the gum in her mouth, you were dragged along with it, your world spinning and tilting unpredictably.
The rhythmic chewing continued as Dafne made her way through the crowd, the vibrations from her footsteps resonating through your tiny body even from inside her mouth. Every now and then, she would pause to greet a fan or sign an autograph, but the chewing never stopped. To her, you were nothing more than an afterthought, a minor inconvenience that she would deal with later.
You struggled in vain to free yourself, but the gum was relentless, sticking to you no matter how hard you tried to peel it away. The force of her chewing was inescapable, each bite sending waves of pressure through your body as you were compressed and stretched along with the gum. The taste of mint was overwhelming, mingling with the faint, metallic tang of saliva as you were tossed around inside her mouth.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you heard the muffled sounds of the crowd growing louder, followed by the familiar rustle of fabric as Dafne took her place on stage. She greeted the audience with a bright smile, completely at ease, while you remained trapped in her mouth, subject to her every whim.
During the interview, her chewing became slower, more deliberate, as if she was savoring the sensation of the gum—and you—between her teeth. You could feel the gum thinning out, spreading across the roof of her mouth and coating your body even more thoroughly. Each time her tongue moved, it pressed you against her palate, the ridged surface scraping against your skin. The pressure was immense, the soft flesh of her tongue holding you in place as she spoke, each word vibrating through your tiny body.
The audience laughed and clapped as Dafne answered questions and joked with the host, completely unaware of the tiny figure trapped inside her mouth. You could hear their voices, faint and distant, but the sounds were drowned out by the overwhelming noise of Dafne’s chewing and the constant sloshing of saliva.
As the interview dragged on, you realized with growing horror that there was no escape. You were nothing more than a tiny, insignificant piece of gum to her—a nuisance she could deal with at her leisure. The realization sank in as the pressure from her teeth increased once more, the gum being rolled and squeezed in her mouth. You were utterly at her mercy, trapped in a world of heat, pressure, and relentless chewing, with no end in sight.
After what felt like an eternity, the interview finally came to a close. The crowd cheered and applauded as Dafne stood up, smiling and waving. With a casual flick of her tongue, she moved the gum—and you—to the side of her mouth, trapping you between her cheek and her molars. The pressure was immense, the gum pressing against you from all sides as her teeth ground it into the soft flesh of her mouth.
As she stepped off the stage and made her way back to the green room, Dafne seemed to remember you were still there. She smirked to herself, her tongue playing with the gum as she considered what to do next. But for now, you remained stuck in the sticky, minty prison, completely at the mercy of the girl who had shrunk you, your fate still hanging in the balance.
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