My Original GT/Vore One-shots

Flight GG-82

A pair of Federal Marshals from Salt Lake City walked off their long drive to Provo Utah through sterilized hospital hallways. Marshal Todd Toomey and his partner Marshal Larissa Crabtree were dispatched to take the statement of a critical eyewitness. "I don't get this..." sighed Larissa scrolling through the report on her phone for the seventeenth time. "How does a whole 747 disappear midair, and then a passenger shows up the next morning on the side of a highway?"

"If anyone knew the answer to that Larissa, we'd be eating pizza with ranch back in SLC," said Todd, pointing to the correct hospital room. "Instead of interrogating a traumatized 29-year-old.

According to her medical chart, other than some bumps and bruises and dehydration, lone passenger Christa Moore was physically fine. In the hospital bed, the high-cheekbone girl sat upright drinking tea. Strands of brown hair draped along her white gown, the kind of wavy locks that suggested she typically wore braids. Perhaps spacey from medication, it took Christa moment to acknowledge the Feds but she agreed to answer questions about her thwarted trip from Toronto to LA. All things considered, Larissa felt Christa looked remarkably good for surviving a nosedive plane crash in the Utah badlands. Then again they didn't have the whole story yet.

"Christa Moore," said Todd, crossing his arms, bad-cop style. "You were a passenger and currently only known survivor of Golden Goose Airlines Flight 82, Toronto to Los Angeles?"

"Yes!" Christa was eager to warn them, nay warn people generally of what or WHO she saw out there. Despite what she'd been through just in pursuit of a well deserved vacation to Malibu, the young woman was clairvoyant with the Marshals immediately. "Here's what happened."

**12 Hours Earlier**

Takeoff from Toronto was uneventful for Christa and her girlfriends Heather and Tawana. All three were excited for their beachside getaway on the Pacific. Between their part of Canada and the sunshine and boardwalks of southern Cali, there is a vast, almost endless slab of land. Some of it was beautiful to look at from overhead, but the majority of sightseeing beneath the clouds made Tawana, Heather and Christa happy they had earphones and playlists. Over the wheat fields of Iowa or Nebraska Tawana who had some wine coolers, joked to her friends "Those crops almost look like an ocean, like a sea serpent will come up from under them." Nobody knew how ironically correct Tawana would be about what lurked below in the North American heartland.

Storm clouds began to amass the afternoon sky as flight 82 glided from Colorado into Utah. Distinctly, Christa remembered the captain's announcement on the PA apologizing that the Grand Canyon may not be visible today due to weather and warned of possible turbulence. Just after that announcement was when the plane seemed to falter. Although all the passengers grunted and yelped at the abrupt change in altitude, everyone assumed it was the turbulence the pilot mentioned. Four empty wine coolers bottles clinked to the floor from Tawana's collapsible tray. Something else was wrong.

After a few seconds to regain her composure in her seat, Christa felt the atmosphere was slightly different in the cab. Then she slowly realized although she felt the plane vibrating and the engines whirring, the aircraft seemed to not be moving forward any longer. In fact Heather commented that gravity felt different somehow and this was highlighted when the plane began to tilt to the left and right, trying to propel forward but somehow unable. "Excuse me," Heather addressed a dumbfounded stewardess. "What's going-?"

Proof that nobody knew came when the pilot and copilot audibly said over the mic to one another "What the fuck?!"

Out of the corner of her eye, in her window seat Christa was one of the first to see the giant thumb and forefinger. She screamed. Both digits looked humanoid, even with hair and human fingernails, but seemed to come out of the sky. Knuckles the size of mobile homes whitened as they pinched the 747's wing like a moth's. Then came an earsplitting metallic snap, followed by an identical noise on the other side of the tubular cab. Everyone onboard screamed and the three girlfriends huddled together. Both airplane wings had been broken off by whatever giant being had grabbed GG-82 midair. They were trapped with no way out, like canned oysters.

At first it seemed like a pair of blue meteors were approaching the plane from the side. But they were actually two blue eyes in a huge male visage. They popped in and out of view as the face examined either side of the plane and its passengers through the windows. A loud guttural hum emitted from a he surrounding clouds, not from the jet engines but from the giant, thinking and grunting introspectively. Seemingly making up his mind, the giant whom they only saw from the neck up, he popped a gaping hole in the metal airtight wall of the cab to gain access to he morsels within.

An entire row of occupied seats was yanked out the gaping hole. Four people, two rows up from Christa and her friends disappeared screaming. Since flight 82 had stopped propelling forward there was no suction, just grabby giant fingers. Outside the buckled passengers were tossed into the behemoth's mouth, screaming and flailing their arms down to the throat. It looked like they were on some freestyle rollercoaster. Smacking his lips, the Golden Goose flight's giant captive gave an approving "MMMM" and reached back in the hole this time dragging a screaming flight attendant out by her heels. There was no escape in sight, as people tried to move farther backward or forward in the cab, to wit the giant would simply redistribute gravity by tilting the plane. Some passengers even tried getting into the cockpit until they heard the giant break the nose cone outside and the giants yells of fright from the cockpit slowly faded into to silence.

Panicking Tawana was plucked from the middle seat. First of their friendship group the giant's fingertip found. She was we dragged out across Christa's lap. Christa tried to help her drunk yelling friend break free from the giant's grip, but a wave of gross fermented wine breath from Tawana caught Christa off guard. Tawana's fingers slipped through hers. A large, dark and red mouth awaited outside the hole, trails of saliva stretched between teeth like stalagmites and stalactites in a flooded cavern. A dripping magenta tongue stirred and flopped outward as if it were a completely different entity awakening in a cave. Shoes, handbags and other accessories from the previous devoured passengers clung to the tongue by saliva, even a crutch. It was that sea serpent of a tongue which Tawana was placed on and it retracted under the ribbed roof of the mouth looking like a fleshy cathedral ceiling. The tongue brought puny Tawana into the hellhole with the others.

When Heather and Christa were dragged out next in the same immense handful, there were probably forty other passengers screaming and clambering for their lives onboard. But once the giant took her and Heather outside, Christa had no idea of the fate of the others. It was a bit too distracting as she and Heather were both dropped downward toward the gaping underpass tunnel of a mouth. Beyond that, dark gurgling nothingness. By some miracle while Heather went careening down the pit of hunger, Christa landed on the edge of his lip and then on the giant's shoulder. Continuing to stuff handfuls of airline travelers in his mouth, he simply didn't notice the one gal hitching a ride below his earlobe. Christa closed her eyes and hummed until all the screaming stopped. The full giant had begun to traipse away, satisfied. Little by little so she wouldn't be detected, little Christa scaled down the giant frame until she was able to dismount his foot to the ground. From there she hiked to a highway and flagged down a motorist.

Back in the Provo hospital, winded Christa finished her recounting of these potentially cataclysmic events. Christa wept at reliving these fresh memories for the fifth time. "If only Tawana didn't have to be drunk to fly and had all that wine. Could've at least saved her."

Surprisingly, Marshal Toomey was glaring skeptically at her. "Ms. Moore are you aware we could arrest you for obstruction of justice for lying in your witness statement?"

Offended, Christa gaped at him. "I'm not lying!"

"Obviously you are," retorted Toomey, impatiently. "Your story is preposterous... nobody can afford to drink four wine coolers on a Golden Goose flight! That's like $120."