Written by: Proky I'll Take a Potato Chip and Eat It “Ungh…” Soarin’ woke up. He had no idea what had happened before this, why he had fallen unconscious, or where he was right now. It was total darkness, which was intimidating enough, but what else should he feel but... a thin but rough platform underneath him? This ground was also notably quite dry. As for the smell, Soarin’ knew it, but couldn’t quite place it. All of a sudden, Soarin’s entire world began to shake. It was the most powerful earthquake he had ever experienced… but the world hadn’t changed much between now and when he was born, so don’t use that comparison. Celestia/Luna would be a better use for this analogy. Soarin’ desperately hoped he wasn’t about to die. Attempting flight would be useless, since A. it was pitch black, and B. these dry objects were all over the place. He whimpered as he desperately wished for this all to be over somehow. At last, it all came to a halt. He opened his eyes (not that this changed anything he saw), and before he could go back to lying there pondering his fate, there was a tearing noise above him. A gap opened in the same place and allowed light to flood into his prison. The earthquakes happened yet again, during which everything around Soarin’ rotated, and sent him tumbling down towards the gap. As everything around him fell alongside him, and the helpless stallion plummeted, powerless to use his wings, he hid his face in his hooves. “Mama, oo-oo-ooh… I don’t wanna die…” he sang to himself out of fear. At last, the darkness disappeared completely and he was introduced to a new, much more visible area. He landed on the same dry objects he had been sharing the room with just moments earlier… and then he felt some of them sliding away. This was followed by a deafening *CRUNCH* noise from the skies above, at which Soarin’ winced heavily. He looked up at the source of the sound, and what he saw took his breath away and made both his mouth and eyes grow wide. It was Spitfire, feasting on potato chips. … You’re not fazed? … Oh, right. I forgot to mention that she was an absolute GIANT. She appeared to be at least the size of an Ursa Major. Likewise, the objects Soarin’ was on top of were potato chips, and massive ones at that. They didn’t even come close to Spitfire, but they were still definitely not supposed to be as big as they were. With this in account, as well as how huge the room was, it didn’t take long for Soarin’ to realize - he was now tiny. Sufficiently so, that a strand of hair could be as thick as his leg. There was worse to come - Spitfire cast her glance back at the bowl of chips and lowered her hoof towards it. Panicking, Soarin’ tried to dig his way down. His rump wiggled before he managed to vanish from sight. “Okay, okay then… somehow… for some reason… I am now very tiny,” he said to himself shakily. “What should I do…” All of the massive chips around him started moving around as there came a giant yellow hoof, which grabbed the exact chip Soarin’ was on and elevated him into the air. At a speed too fast for him to do anything about it, he was then headed straight towards an off-white substance. He became completely coated in the stuff along with the potato chip he was riding on. Soarin’ managed to get a taste of the substance… it was just like onion dip, which only added to his horror. He had tried to delude himself into believing this was all a dream, but the dip tasted too much like the real thing. He attempted to swim out, but the onion dip was so incredibly thick that his tiny, feeble body was stuck in place, and could only watch as Spitfire licked her lips. He was slowly lifted upwards towards Spitfire’s hungry waiting mouth. "Spitfire! Down here!" His cries went unheard as Spitfire opened her maw even wider, giving Soarin’ a better view of what awaited him. Every detail became clearer to him as her mouth approached; the saliva dripping from the roof of her mouth and onto her tongue and molars, and now, her powerful breath washing over him, causing him to gag at the smell, which he made out to be a mix of the potato chip and onion dip, along with hay. “Okay, regal sisters… I was the one who took the last slice of pizza… I was the one who borrowed Fleetfoot’s pillow without permission… just please, forgive me! SPARE ME!” he wailed desperately. The chip Soarin was on was finally snapped into two large pieces and a few smaller pieces (but still practically grand compared to the speck of a pegasus trapped in the dip). The broken chips and the dip formed a stiff paste that Soarin’ found himself stuck in. ~~~ Now that Spitfire was done chewing her mouthful, she felt a tiny speck, which she pinned with her tongue between two of her teeth. ~~~ Poor unfortunate Soarin’ was now stuck between two of the giantess’ teeth, physically unable to move, as the goo in Spitfire’s mouth continued to cover him in thick layers. ~~~ Spitfire leaned her head back as she swallowed her tasty mouthful. *GULP!*. She felt the wad of potato, spices, and sauce go down her throat. She reached for her glass of soda. ~~~ Soarin was blinded as the massive gap opened before his very eyes, but there wasn’t time to react as a murky sea started to pour through straight towards him. Sure, the tidal wave freed him from his prison, but also created an entirely new problem, for he was now swimming in the ocean inside Spitfire's mouth. ~~~ Spitfire happily swished the drink around in her mouth before swalllowing with an audible *GULP!* sound. All Soarin’ could do was watch and observe as he was transported into Spitfire’s throat, passing her uvula. The long, slimy tunnel was thin, enough for Soaring to slide between them, not just fall. It was very claustrophobic, as a natural fear many had was getting stuck in a confined area. This was slick enough for him to slide through, however. He could hear the slow, calm breating, not to mention Spitfire’s heart beating quickly. He didn’t get to comprehend much of it before a giant chasm opened beneath him. sending him plummeting into darkness. ~~~ Spitfire had enjoyed her little snack. She sat back and licked her lips clean. “Some good chips,” she commented, raising her belly in the air in relaxation. ~~~ Trapped and helpless, Soarin’ lay there, awaiting his fate. Digestion? Freedom? It was messing with his head. It was psychological torture.