This choice: In Lisa’s food (camera man) • Go Back...Chapter #7Lisa’s Temper by: Blood   The world around you felt like a blur as you blinked in disbelief, your body no longer the size it once was. Instead, you stood barely two inches tall, surrounded by towering walls of lettuce, chunks of chicken, and croutons the size of boulders. Moments ago, you were seated in The Mixing Bowl, just a customer with a simple complaint about the food. Now, here you were, somehow shrunken, trapped in the very plate you had voiced dissatisfaction over.
And standing above you was Lisa Hnat, her arms crossed and eyes filled with irritation. She had listened to your complaints with growing impatience, and you never saw it coming when she leaned over, muttered a few words under her breath, and suddenly, the world swirled, leaving you in this helpless state, staring up at her towering form.
“Well, look at you now,” Lisa sneered, her voice booming as she peered down at your tiny form amidst the salad. “You thought the food wasn’t good enough, huh? You just had to complain.”
You could see her frustration, the strain of years of running a restaurant, dealing with complaints day after day, all bubbling to the surface. Now, she seemed to be enjoying this twisted sense of power, her lips curling into a smirk.
“You know, I’m sick of people like you,” she said, reaching down, her enormous fingers casually plucking up a piece of lettuce near you. The wind from her movements nearly knocked you off balance, and you stumbled backward, your heart pounding. “Always whining, always thinking you know better.”
Her hand hovered dangerously close to you as she picked up a crouton and popped it into her mouth. The crunch echoed in the air like thunder. “Let’s see how you like my food now.”
You tried to run, but the salad was like a maze, the large leaves and chunks of vegetables making it impossible to move quickly. Lisa chuckled above you, clearly amused by your efforts to escape. “Where do you think you're going?”
Without warning, her fork plunged down next to you, stabbing into a piece of chicken. You barely dodged it, the tines missing you by a hair. She lifted the fork, holding the piece of chicken above you, her dark eyes watching your every move.
“Maybe you’ll think twice about complaining next time,” she said, lowering the chicken toward her mouth. You stared in horror as her lips parted, revealing her gleaming white teeth. Her tongue slipped out briefly, moistening her lips before she pulled the chicken inside. The sound of her chewing was overwhelming, her jaw working slowly, savoring each bite.
You could see every detail of her mouth from where you stood—the glistening saliva coating her teeth, the way her tongue moved the food around. She was enjoying this far too much.
Suddenly, her eyes fixed on you again. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said with a sly grin. “I didn’t forget about you.”
She reached down, her fingers grasping a nearby tomato slice and lifting it toward her mouth. As she bit into it, juice dribbled down her chin, and her gaze never left you, savoring your fear as much as the food.
You felt your legs shaking, but there was nowhere to go. You were surrounded by food, a prisoner in a dish you had once dismissed as bland and underwhelming. Now, it was a death trap.
Lisa took her time, plucking up pieces of the salad, slowly making her way closer to you with each bite. The sound of her chewing became more menacing as she closed in, her every move deliberate and unhurried.
Finally, her fork came down again, this time scooping up a mix of lettuce and chicken—along with you. The fork lifted you into the air, the ground beneath your feet slipping away as you dangled precariously from the pile of food. Lisa’s face loomed closer, her eyes narrowing as she inspected you, a cruel smile playing on her lips.
“I bet you didn’t expect this when you walked in, huh?” she teased, her voice a rumbling sound that seemed to shake your entire body. “But maybe this is exactly what you deserve.”
Her mouth opened wide, and you were greeted with the horrifying sight of her wet tongue and glistening teeth. The food on the fork was guided toward the cavernous opening, and you could feel the heat of her breath wash over you as you were brought closer.
“Hope you enjoy the meal now,” she whispered just before slipping the fork into her mouth.
The world went dark as her lips closed around you. The fork pulled away, and suddenly, you were surrounded by warmth and moisture. Her tongue pushed against you, the slick surface pressing you into the chewed-up food. You could feel the lettuce and bits of chicken sliding against your skin, the textures blending together in the humid heat of her mouth.
Her tongue moved you around, rolling you into the mixture of food as if you were nothing more than a tiny part of her meal. The sound of her chewing reverberated through your entire body, the crunch of lettuce and chicken echoing inside her mouth. Every movement felt amplified—each shift of her tongue, every click of her teeth, the heavy, rhythmic sound of her breathing.
She spoke, her voice muffled, the vibrations shaking you to your core. “I bet this isn’t what you had in mind when you complained, huh?”
You tried to push away from her tongue, but it was impossible. The slick muscle dominated your entire world, pushing you into the chewed food, forcing you to endure every second of her eating. The humid air was thick with the scent of the salad, mixed with the overpowering smell of her breath.
Just as you thought you couldn’t take any more, her tongue pressed you to the roof of her mouth, smothering you in the warm, slick surface. You were pinned, completely helpless as she continued to chew around you. Each movement of her jaws sent waves of pressure rippling through the food, and you could feel the vibrations from her teeth as they crushed and ground the pieces of chicken and lettuce into smaller bits.
Suddenly, her tongue flicked you backward, and you slid across its slick surface, heading toward the back of her throat. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut—she was about to swallow.
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