You, by some stroke of misfortune, end up on someone's shelf, only mere inches tall. You smell smoke and peer over to search for its source. As you check over the shelf, your gaze is met by a glassy pair of entranced eyes. Your viewer below is nearly immobile - evidenced by the ashtray on her floor and the cherried joint in her hand. Is she even processing the sight of you or is she just spacing out. Beyond her stare, you witness her scantily-clad form, featuring most prominently a soft potbelly. You can tell this girl surely enjoys her munchies.
Without breaking her concentration on you, the girl opens her mouth and begins to point inside to the back of her glistening throat. Muted sounds begin to crescendo from her stomach. What is she telling you? Does she want you to jump IN? Why the HELL would you do that? What is WRONG with this girl? You try to communicate with her, but she returns no respond except her dull stare. With no other way down, it seems she expects you to just jump down and satisfy her. Your fate seems certain; your only alternative is to delay the inevitable.