Follow the instructions and give it a sip.

Anne picks up the tiny bottle, curiously turning it around and inspecting it closely. From what you can see, it's just a little glass container with a small cork, to which a string is tied. From the string is the note with the fancy calligraphy which says

Drink Me

As you watch her holding the bottle, you get another peek into her thoughts.

This wasn't here before, she thinks. This is a trap. I should put this down.

So why isn't she putting it down?

You look at her pretty face and see her biting her lip. Her thoughts drift back to the bar, and Ben saying she'd already come so close to meeting her fate, and how turned on she got by that. She shivers a bit and is still staring at the bottle.

You can't deny it: you want to see what happens if she drinks it. Not just for the effect it might have, but the thrill of her knowing it's likely a trap and doing it anyway is having an unexpectedly arousing effect on you. Your intangible loins get a bit warm at the thought. It would just be... so... stupid. And if there's one thing you have figured out that you have in common with this redhaired girl, it's that you both have a fascination with game books.

And sometimes in those books, the protagonist makes a really bone-headed decision.

"Oh god..." Anne moans. Her chest is heaving a bit. Knowing that she shouldn't do this is making her want to do it that much more of a turn-on for her. Her cheeks are flushed, and you watch as her other hand moves down to her floofy skirt and slips under it. She starts to rub her fingers over the front of her thong, over her new pussy, which is inexplicably wet from thinking about what she is about to do.

Because really, you realize... the decision was already made. She seems to get that, too. If she was on this 'page'...it was going to happen.

Anne knows that thinking about her life as if it were one of those books is crazy. But she can't help herself. And with a flick of her thumb, the tiny stopper is popped out. She brings the glass bottle to her lips and gulps the whole of its contents down.

"Aah~" she sighs, as if having just taken a refreshing drink of water. She sets the bottle down, and isn't all that shocked that she can feel a tingle happening in her stomach already. Her other hand continues to rub against her new sex as she feels the tingle spreading.

You can feel her combination of embarrassment and excitement. She knows she made a mistake, but she doesn't seem to care in the moment. As you might have been able to guess, a particular change starts to happen to the redhead girl. Her blouse starts to fall a bit forward, as if it was now too big for her body, but a look at her now-exposed tits shows you that she's still as busty as ever. The sleeves start to fit poorly as they fall down her arms. The underwear she rubs her fingers against has a greater surface area. Her skirt starts to be too much for her to reach under like she is, the frills pushing back against her arm.

Oooh fuck, I'm shrinking... You hear her think, but that doesn't seem to stop her. She pulls her arms back out of the sleeves at her shoulders and starts to massage her breasts as you watch her shrink more and more into the St. Pauli Girl dress.

You wish you could touch yourself as you watch her doing so. The dress is getting so big, the room expanding around her... and you. You realize that you're actually following her perspective, as if you are shrinking too!

"NNn... aah..." Once she has shrunken into her former coverings enough, the girl puts an arm down to her nethers again, giving into her own lust at her inexcusable decision. You watch her lie back in the dress. Her proportions stay the same, but she is getting smaller, and smaller, and smaller...

She is the size of a doll, and still shrinking as she moans in self-pleasure.

She is the size of an action figure, writhing there as she fingers her pussy with vigor.

She is the size of a coin. Anne just can't stop herself, her female body giving her such good and unfamiliar feelings that just felt too good to resist.

She is the size of an ant. You "shrink" along with her, and take a moment to look up from the moaning girl to see just how monstrously huge the world, around the room, around you both, is.

And the shrinking isn't stopping. It keeps going. The frills of the dress around you and her are now like white, blue, and black mountain ranges. The ceiling of the grey room might as well have been the sky. Just how small is she now? And how long would this last?

You look inside of Anne's pleasure-addled mind, looking to see if she regrets her decision.

It's funny, even as the amoeba towers over her and moves to absorb its new, strange, moaning meal, you don't actually sense regret in the girl about to be devoured by a single-cell organism. Even when she knows this is definitely

THE END