Pathetic. Couldn’t even win a single match… and now? You’re nothing but prey.

She looks down at your tiny form with a smirk, hand on her hip, voice dripping with cruel amusement.

Hope you're a better toy than you were a trainer. Not that it matters now—you belong to me.

She points at you, and with a single word—“Shrink.”—your body collapses, tinier with each second. She doesn’t react, doesn’t flinch, just watches with lazy satisfaction.

Once you're small enough, she reaches down and snatches you up between her fingers like a worthless item, lifting you to her face.

You always wanted my attention. Be careful what you wish for.

Her mouth opens wide—hot breath washing over you—and she pushes you inside with no hesitation, sealing her lips around you.

You struggle, but her tongue pins you easily, rolling you back with deliberate force.

You’re not a trainer. You’re not a toy. You’re food.

She swallows. One, slow, final gulp.

And food doesn’t fight back.