Akiko's Appetite

His name was Richard, and every echoing footstep through the international terminal at Narita Airport seemed to announce his entitlement. He dragged a sleek, overpriced suitcase behind him, one that matched the smugness in his sneer. The flight had been long, but Richard's resolve was undeterred; he had come to Japan with a singular, unsavory purpose: to find a wife. As he made his way through the throngs of people, he couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement mixed with a tinge of unease. This was unfamiliar territory for him, both literally and figuratively. But he pushed those thoughts aside and focused on his mission, determined to succeed at all costs.

In the comfort of his own home country, his advances were consistently met with disdainful eye rolls and cold shoulders. He refused to accept that it was his abrasive demeanor causing this reaction, instead blaming the "flawed nature" of American women for not meeting his expectations. In his twisted view, they were too independent and focused on their careers, lacking the "traditional values" he desired - values rooted in his deep-seated misogyny. His narrow mind convinced him that Asian women would be different, more malleable to his desires. After all, he had read online forums that assured him they would be submissive, eagerly catering to his every whim.

His rants about American women were like venom, spewing from his mouth with a bitter intensity. He would often seek out unsuspecting listeners to proclaim his beliefs, vehemently declaring that these women had it all wrong. They were always competing and arguing, never understanding the true meaning of respect. But Japanese women, he would declare with a self-righteous tone, they knew how to treat a man right. His words were coated in disdain for any woman who dared to assert her equality, poisoning the air with their toxic message.

To Richard, this wasn't just a trip. It was a calculated conquest, a hunting expedition for the perfect trophy bride he felt he so rightly deserved. As he strutted through the bustling airport, his sharp eyes scanned the crowd with an air of superiority, searching for potential targets to add to his collection. His arrogance enveloped him like a suffocating cloud, invisible yet palpable to anyone in his vicinity. No matter where he looked, his twisted intentions were clear in his predatory gaze—a hunt, indeed, but one fueled by despicable motives and desires.

Richard confidently strode through the constant whirl of activity in Narita Airport's bustling terminal, his leather duffel bag slung effortlessly over a broad shoulder. He carried himself with an air of entitlement, believing that not only did he possess ownership over his belongings, but also over every person he passed by. In his eyes, women were mere objects in a man's world, valued for their beauty and ability to serve and support without ever daring to challenge or compete. The assertive and independent American women who had rejected him were no match for the obedient Japanese women whom he saw as recognizing his inherent superiority and naturally falling into the role of devoted and subservient wives. As he made his way through the airport, Richard couldn't help but bask in the attention from the admiring glances of these perceived submissive women.

The peaceful hum of the bustling airport was suddenly interrupted by a stern voice. A young Japanese woman, her black uniform crisp and pressed, stood in front of a frustrated Richard, her delicate hand extended in a polite gesture.

"Excuse me, sir, but you are going the wrong way," she stated firmly.

"I know where I'm going!" Richard snapped; irritation etched into his features as he tried to push past her without a second thought. However, his heavy duffel bag caught on a nearby signpost, causing it to rip open and scatter its contents across the shiny floor.

"Great, just great!" Richard bellowed, his face turning red with embarrassment as other travelers began to stop and stare at the commotion. The female worker approached once again, offering to help pick up the scattered items, but Richard's temper had already ignited.

"Get away from me! I don't need help from some woman!" His voice rose with each word, dripping with venom and disdain. "No matter where I go, you women always overstep your boundaries!"

A murmur spread through the crowd like wildfire, their eyes growing wider as they watched the shocking scene unfold. Amidst them stood a stunning Japanese woman, her dark hair cascading down her back in smooth waves. Her gaze was not one of shock, but rather of quiet intensity as she observed the chaotic scene unfolding before her.

Richard's tirade continued, his voice booming with anger and his insults raining down on the stoic airport worker like hailstones. Every word he spoke dripped with contempt, and his aggressive gestures punctuated his toxic beliefs.

"Women are weaker," he seethed, his face twisted in rage. "You should know your place and be grateful when a real man like me pays you any attention!" His words hung in the air like a poisonous cloud, spreading their toxicity to all who heard them.

As Richard crouched, desperately gathering his scattered belongings and hurling curses, the woman from the crowd stalked after him down a desolate corridor. Her graceful features were now twisted with an ancient power, her dark eyes glinting with malicious intent. She uttered a chilling incantation under her breath, her slender fingers weaving an ominous spell in the air.

In an instant, Richard's reality warped and shrank. The towering walls of the corridor dissolved into an impossibly tall monument, and the dust particles swirling around him became monstrous boulders. His voice was swallowed up by a deafening silence as he realized his insignificance, reduced to nothing more than a mere speck in a realm far beneath human beings. The witch towered over him like a malevolent deity, her presence both awe-inspiring and terrifying. He had sought a docile bride, a woman to dominate and control, but now it seemed that fate had a cruel sense of irony – for he was face to face with a powerful sorceress who would be his ultimate downfall.

With trembling limbs, the once arrogant man cowered in fear beneath the looming giantess. Her ruby lips, like a tapestry of death, cast a foreboding shadow over his tiny form. As her hand closed around him, his heart hammered against his chest, terror coursing through his body. Suspended between her fingers, he could feel himself being pulled closer to the gaping maw of her mouth, its scent of cherry blossoms and otherworldly fragrances overwhelming his senses.

Her lips, massive and enigmatic cliffs of flesh, glimmered under the sterile lights of the airport. The precise application of her lipstick only added to their haunting allure, drawing him towards the horizon line that now seemed like a threshold to an unknown and treacherous world. They parted slowly, revealing the endless expanse of darkness within, beckoning him towards an unfathomable abyss.

Her voice boomed like a raging storm, shaking his very core with its power. "American men," she growled with contempt and superiority, "always expecting to be served on a silver platter as if it's their birthright."

Each word struck him like lightning, leaving behind scars that would never heal his wounded ego. He tried to speak up, to resist her dominance, but his feeble attempts were drowned out by the sheer force of her presence.

Her voice echoed with malice, each cruel word a hammer striking against his ego. "Pathetic little creatures," she taunted, a twisted smile on her lips. "I've reduced men like you to nothing before. You all believe yourselves to be mighty, until you're tiny and helpless, at the mercy of those you once deemed inferior." Her laughter grew louder, a cacophony of scorn that battered him relentlessly. He was no longer the master of his domain, but a mere speck in her eyes, and she reveled in his fall from grace. This was a world beyond his control, where men were mere playthings for her amusement, and he was just another pathetic creature at her mercy.

The witch's face twisted into a wicked grin as she spoke with venom dripping from her words. "You are nothing but an insignificant insect, destined to be crushed by the hand - or mouth - of the woman of your desires." The man cowered before her, feeling smaller and more helpless by the second. He could only tremble in terror as he realized his futile attempts at control had led him to this moment, at the mercy of a powerful and vengeful force. In that instant, his delusions of grandeur were shattered, replaced by the chilling realization that his fate was truly in the hands of this cruel being.

Richard was still trapped in the clutches of the witch, trembling and helpless under her scrutinizing gaze. He knew he was nothing but an insignificant toy to her, a mere morsel in her elegant hand. Fear filled him as he imagined her lifting him to her lips, ready to devour him. But there was something else in her eyes, a twisted sense of amusement that promised a fate far worse than being consumed by her.

With a sneer of contempt, she plucked him up like a speck of dust and strode through the bustling airport terminal. The scent of cooked rice and savory fillings hung heavy in the air as they approached the dining area. There, a plate of Yaki Onigiri sat, its owner temporarily distracted by something else. Richard’s heart sank as he was being walked toward his own doom as the Witch brought him closer and closer to the unattended food.

She spoke with a chilling tone, her voice echoing through the air as she towered over the tiny man. “I won’t eat a pathetic mite like you, but she will.”

With a flick of her hand, she tossed him onto a scorching mound of grilled rice, surrounded by towering grains that resembled boulders - each one blistered with steam and radiating intense heat. The aroma was overwhelming - a mix of earthy richness and spicy seasoning that filled his nostrils. He struggled to navigate through the valleys between the grains, the dark flecks of seasoning now obstacles in his path. As he tried to escape this alien landscape, he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever taste or see anything familiar again.

Abruptly, the ground began to tremble beneath him, and Richard heard the deep, haunting voice of the Japanese Woman seated at the plate in front of her colossal form. Her words echoed through the sky like an otherworldly chant, both familiar and unsettling. Another quake shook the earth as she picked up her chopsticks, their length appearing monstrous against the background of restaurant chatter.

"Sumimasen," she called out. Her very voice shook the very foundations of his reality. To him, it was a chilling sound, the call of a powerful deity unaware of his insignificant presence. As her chopsticks descended towards her food, shadows seemed to swallow him whole, plunging everything into darkness and foreboding an inevitable and absurd demise.

The Japanese Woman's face loomed over the plate, her features a serene landscape of quiet beauty and unknowable thoughts. Her delicate, almond-shaped eyes, dark as obsidian, swept across the mounds of Yaki Onigiri with the gentle regard of a creator observing her world. From the perspective of the speck-sized Richard, she was an omnipotent being, and he, less than an insect in her shadow. Her skin glowed with a porcelain-like quality, reflecting the soft light from above. The wisps of her jet-black hair framed her face like elegant tendrils, adding to her otherworldly aura. As she delicately picked up a piece of food with her chopsticks, it was as if she were performing a sacred ritual, elevating each bite to a divine experience.

A wave of terror crashed over him, clawing at his miniature heart like a beast. This feeling was so alien to him, a man who had always believed women to be the weaker sex, to be commanded and dominated. But in this grotesque reversal of power, he found himself utterly powerless, insignificant, and at her mercy. His once booming and authoritative voice now reduced to a feeble squeak that failed to pierce the sound barrier of this tiny world, it rose in silent commands that failed to reach her ears. Richard didn’t want to accept that he was nothing in her presence and that she held all the power in the world. Fear pulsed through his veins like fire, consuming every thought and instinct he had ever known.

"Listen to me!" he tried to bellow. His puny voice never reached the Japanese Woman as she simply continued to feast on her meal, completely oblivious to his existence. The air around him seemed to constrict and thicken as she expertly maneuvered the chopsticks in her hand. With practiced precision, she plucked a piece of grilled rice – his makeshift raft – between the tips of her utensils. As she lifted it effortlessly towards her mouth, he was given a vertiginous view of the journey from plate to palate – a trajectory he was powerless to alter. He could almost taste the savory aroma of the food as it approached her lips, taunting him with its unattainable deliciousness.

Richard's voice cracked and faltered as he desperately tried to maintain a facade of authority over the woman who towered over him. “Stop woman! You will obey me!”

But his words were nothing but a tiny whisper in the grand scheme of the unaware woman’s power. This was the witch's twisted game; one she relished in playing. Shrinking the most entitled and misogynistic men down to size, making them feel small and insignificant just as they've made countless women feel before. But Richard, blinded by his entitlement and arrogance, still believed he could control this woman like all the others, even if he was reduced to the size of a mere dust particle. All she had to do was notice him and she would bow before him in reverence as she was meant to.

With a booming voice of boredom that seemed to radiate authority, the Japanese woman declared "Itadakimasu," like a benevolent deity giving thanks before a feast. The word "itadakimasu," a customary prelude to a meal, echoed in his mind. Never had it sounded so much like the tolling of a bell marking his doom. From his hidden perch, he watched with growing dread as the chopsticks descended upon him like a pair of monstrous pincers. He could see the anticipation in her eyes, the hunger for sustenance that drove her to devour anything in her path. The thought of being consumed by this hungry Asian Goddess filled him with terror and humiliation.

With a desperate attempt to reason with her, Richard let out a guttural scream that would never leave the plane of existence far below any human being’s notice.

"You can't do this to me!" He pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation and fear. "I am a man! You must listen..."

His words trailed off into a defeated whisper. The weight of his helplessness hung heavy in the air, suffocating him with each passing second. The blissfully unaware woman's lips curled into a determined line as she sunk her teeth into the soft, pillowy portion of Onigiri. The rice and filling oozed out, mixing with the tangy soy sauce and creating a burst of umami flavors in her mouth. Her eyes closed in ecstasy as she savored the taste, savoring each bite like a precious delicacy.

Balancing precariously on a single grain within a sea of soy-glazed rice, the American Man's mind spun with the shock of his new reality. Despite his now minuscule size and complete lack of control, he stubbornly clung to his delusions of authority.

"Listen to me!" he demanded in a pitifully weak voice, barely inaudible over the deafening cacophony of the bustling airport. His eyes blazed with impotent rage as he pointed an accusatory finger at the woman towering above him.

"You will do as I say, or I swear I'll make you regret this!" The scent of sizzling teriyaki and steamed noodles filled the air, blending with the sounds of clattering dishes and chattering travelers. The chaotic atmosphere and his pitiful size only served to amplify the absurdity of the tiny man's futile attempt at intimidation. Not that she would ever notice him even if they were in the quietest room in the world.

The Japanese Woman remained oblivious to the tantrum coming from the mite on her plate as she delicately held her chopsticks in place as she prepared for another bite. Her mouth gaped open, revealing a pristine set of pearly white teeth, each one lined up perfectly. A thin layer of saliva coats them, giving off a shine of health. Small grains of rice from her previous bites cling onto the nooks and crannies of her teeth, eagerly awaiting their inevitable fate of being crushed and devoured in the next mastication.

She calmly adjusted her grip on the chopsticks, her movements precise and deliberate like a dancer's. The air around him seemed to thicken as she plucked a piece of grilled rice - his makeshift raft - between the tips of her utensils. He felt like a tiny insect caught in a spider's web, unable to break free. As she effortlessly lifted the rice towards her mouth, he was given a dizzying view of its journey from plate to palate - a trajectory that he had no control over. His eyes widened with horror as the chopsticks steadily brought him closer to a fate he could not escape. The woman's lips parted, revealing a warm, cavernous mouth where food was transformed into sustenance. It was a fate he never could have imagined - to be nothing more than an unseen speck in a single bite of food. The idea of being consumed without her knowledge filled him with terror and humiliation. His heart raced as he struggled against his inevitable fate.

Richard’s heart threatened to burst out of his chest as he watched the cavernous maw spread open before him. With each widening second, his scream was swallowed by the overwhelming enormity of her mouth. As her lips closed around the mound of Onigiri he was trapped upon, he could feel the moist, suffocating heat and the grinding of teeth like a deathly dance. In that moment, all sense of the outside world was reduced to nothing but a trembling heartbeat and the realization that he was about to be devoured alive.

He felt the violent tremors of the Asian beauty’s chewing, each crushing motion of her jaw sending shockwaves through his tiny form. The sticky tongue trapped him in a suffocating prison, as the warmth and scent of her breath overwhelmed his senses. In the cavernous expanse of her mouth, the speck of a man was easily swallowed up by the swirling pools of saliva and half-chewed food on her pink tongue. Richard’s voice was a mere whisper amidst the vastness of the cavernous maw. He struggled against the sticky rice and meat that held him in place, his pleas for mercy drowned out by the symphony of grinding teeth and sloshing saliva.

As her lips sealed shut, he was enveloped in darkness, unable to escape the relentless crush of enamel on rice and flesh. The tangy scent of ginger and soy filled his nostrils as her breath buffeted him, intensifying his screams into a desperate plea for survival. But his cries were lost amidst the cacophony of munching, a lone voice fading into the abyss as he was consumed by the monstrous appetite of his unaware captor. A violent shudder runs through her mouth as her tongue coils around the feast, pulling it towards the abyss of her throat. Her throat expands, a grotesque sight that reeks of inhumanity, and she swallows with a sickening gentleness. The ground beneath the man trembles and shifts as he is gulped down, a nauseating sound echoing through the fleshy chamber that serves as his final resting place.

"NO!" She screams, but it's futile. The pull is powerful, a relentless force dragging him down into the pulsating throat of his attacker. Her muscles contract and squeeze around him, guiding him deeper into the dark depths of her gullet. Each peristaltic wave is a crushing grip, suffocating and constricting him as he struggles to escape the biological tunnel closing in on him as the thumping of her heart and breath is heard all around him.

The journey was a long, horrible, and tumultuous descent as he careened through the remnants of his lunch, unable to control his fate. With a sudden jolt, the American man tumbled into the vat of his fist digestive destination — the stomach. The walls pulsed and churned with life, secreting acidic enzymes that eagerly set to work on the food. The man's cries were drowned out by the deafening bubbling and sizzling beneath him, as his platform of sustenance began its slow disintegration. Trapped within the folds of her gastric lining, he faced the harsh reality: he would be digested by this woman who would remain blissfully unaware of his existence, and his slow, agonizing death within her rumbling belly. His senses were overwhelmed by the pungent odor and acidic tang in the air, as he struggled fruitlessly against the inevitable fate that awaited him inside this dark and swirling chamber of digestion.

The final grains of fluffy white rice settled with a gentle plunk into the depths of Akiko’s stomach, their journey from plate to flesh complete. The 26-year-old leaned back in her chair, a contented exhale escaping her lips as she delicately wiped at the corners of her mouth with a crisp, white napkin. She was at 1st wary of eating food produced in an airport, but the Yaki Onigiri she had was well-prepared and added more energy to her long day. Her eyes closed for a moment, savoring the rich flavors and textures that came with each bite of the meal. The warmth of the restaurant and the sound of chatter around her added to the comforting atmosphere. Akiko could feel the satiety spread through her body, leaving her pleasantly full and satisfied.

Completely unaware of the microscopic man that was now digesting slowly and painfully within her stomach, she swiftly gathered her belongings with the practiced efficiency of a seasoned traveler. Richard, the arrogant and misogynistic American who had moments ago set out to prey on young women, was never noticed by Akiko. To her, he was nothing more than an unwitting addition to her diet, his cries and pleas echoing faintly as they were digested along with the morsels from her lunch.

Akiko rose gracefully from her seat, adjusting the strap of her bag across her shoulder as she took in the now serene food court. The lingering smells of various cuisines wafted through the air, mingling with the soft chatter of diners engrossed in their conversations. She couldn't help but feel a sense of detachment from it all as she thought back to the intense exchange that had just taken place at her table. With a final glance at her empty plate, she turned and strode confidently towards the exit of the terminal. The click of her heels on the highly polished floor echoed throughout the bustling space as her tummy groaned. Leaving behind the atmosphere that the loud and woman-hating American ruined as he’d gone on his sexist rant. Akiko hated Men like that, they were losers, nothing but nuisances who came into her country thinking that they could get away with acting foolish. As she walked, she hoped that someone would put him in his place and teach him a lesson.

With a gentle whoosh, the sliding doors parted before her, revealing the sprawling cityscape beyond. The sun was high in the sky of Japan, casting a warm glow on the bustling streets. As she stepped out onto the sidewalk, the crisp air teased her hair and brushed against her skin. The city awaited with open arms, its skyscrapers, and colorful buildings beckoning to her with promise and possibility. With each step, Akiko felt herself becoming one with the rhythm of the Tokyo metropolis, a silent witness to an extraordinary consumption of life happening all around her. She was but another soul passing through this vast and vibrant world, yet she walked with purpose and determination, ready to make her mark on its ever-changing landscape.