Trevor looked in horror at the gaping vagina before him, the same one he had impotently obsessed over and fantasized about for so many years, he couldn’t help but think: where had everything gone so very wrong?

Yes, the vagina looked immaculate, even better in real life than it had through the LCD screens that had been his only window to it up until now. But there was a problem – he was only a few inches high, having been shrunk just moments before through forces unknown. And the vagina in question, already soaked, somehow looked …hungry. He didn’t know why he thought that, exactly. How could genitals look hungry? But the impression was unshakable nonetheless.

He turned, and what he saw then only reinforced his sense of helplessness: a 7-inch, hard white cock, leaking precum, and rapidly closing in on him. If he were in a joking mood, he might have made a joke, a play on being between a “rock and a hard place”. Understandably, however, he was not.

He started to run, but it was too late: the dick had reached him, and was now pushing him into the yawing opening of the vagina. Beyond that, he could see only blackness. As the precum soaked through the back of his ratty t-shirt, he closed his eyes, unable to bear witness to what clearly was to be his imminent fate.

To Trevor’s surprise, then, images from his life actually began to flash before his eyes, just like he had always heard happened before you die.

It was not pleasant viewing.

…

Where had it all gone wrong? Maybe it was his birth, or more specifically, when he was born. Trevor, you see, was a Simp.

When the decline of Western Civilization is written about in the coming centuries, these future scholars - be they robot, alien, or Chinese - will no doubt devote a chapter or two to the Simp. A Simp, if you’re not familiar with the term, describes a particular type of person that only existed in the dark corners of society before the turn of the 21st century, but then saw rapid growth thereafter. That is, a Simp is someone that not only pines after a woman they’ve never met, but actually helps financially support them.

Here’s how it works: the Simp will spend an inordinate time on the internet, mainly watching porn. Eventually, they’ll stumble upon a girl that’s a “cut above the rest”, at least in their mind. If they had met in real life, this would be considered “love at first sight”, if only unrequited. This is much more tragic.

In that case, at least the female in the equation might have actually glanced at their would-be lover, even if they ultimately made no note of him. For the Simp, on the other hand, the object of his lust doesn’t even think of him as human. He’s just one among thousands, maybe even tens of thousands, throwing money at them every month in exchange for periodic postings of poorly-lit nude photographs, along with the occasional short sex video that looks like it was filmed at the site of a recent murder.

If the Simp is really pathetic, they’ll go even further, paying for clothes, custom videos, and pay-per-view exclusives. They might even just send them money directly, not even bothering to launder it through the pretense of an exchange of goods and services.

Now, you might be tempted to think these women would be grateful to the Simps, without whom they’d be forced to join the working world, filled as it is with mundane tasks, endless meetings, and agonizing commutes. You couldn’t be more wrong. In reality, the Simp could not be held in lower regard by their benefactors.

For example, if some brute grabbed them one day, dragged them into an alley, and mercilessly raped them, they would still bestow upon them more respect than what they grant the Simp.

All because there is nothing women hate more in men than weakness, especially beautiful women, and the Simp is the ultimate expression of it.
…

Trevor is a perfect example. Now, he at least knows the truth of his status, and even has embraced it somewhat, having long since pushed the shame deep, deep, down, where he could no longer feel it.

This feat was achieved through a potent mix of a few of the realities of his existence, that: A) he hates women, while simultaneously being obsessed with them, B) he has no girlfriend or wife, and believes, at this point, that will never change, and C) that he is the only surviving member of his family, leaving no one around to care enough to try and save him from the errors of his ways.

Thus Trevor found himself in the same pitiful loop: discovering a new digital visage to obsess over, throwing money and gifts at them, then finally growing bored with them and setting out to find a new virtual partner.

This could have gone on for perpetuity.

But we know it won’t.
…
The series of unfortunate events that resulted in Trevor’s demise began when he found the latest recipient of his affections: Lucy. He couldn’t remember where he had first seen her, be it Twitter, Pornhub, or Reddit. But the minute he saw her, he knew he had found something special.

Lucy was Asian, and this fact alone did not distinguish her from most of Trevor’s targets. He had a type, clearly. But what made Lucy different was that she was curvy. Her breasts were small, yes, but her hips were wide, her ass was round, and her legs were thick and muscular. She was, literally, one in a billion.

It helped too, that Lucy’s boyfriend Greg was white. Thus, Trevor was more easily able to self-insert himself into her porn videos, particularly the ones shot from a Point-of-View perspective. Greg’s penis was substantially longer and thicker than Trevor’s, but he could overlook those details if he tried hard enough, fortunately.

So, he subscribed to her Onlyfans. He signed up for her exclusive Snapchat. He joined her official Discord. He even found the GoFundMe she had set up to pay for her boob job, and donated a not-insubstantial sum. He was hooked alright, at least for now, though he knew this affair would always be one-sided.

Until, shockingly, it wasn’t.

…

“Want 2 meet up?” read the text message. It was the first thing he saw when he checked his phone at 12:30 PM, his usual wake-up time.

The number was Lucy’s: he had paid to get it, so that they could sext for an additional 50 dollars an hour once every month. They were the happiest hours of his adult life, incidentally.

His first thought was that she must have decided to start escorting. Obviously, he would have loved to take advantage of this new service, but he doubted he could afford it. After all, disability checks can only be stretched so far. Still, there was nothing to lose by at least asking.

“How much, my love?” he texted back. “My love” was always how he addressed Lucy in their texts. She did not use it in return.

She replied almost instantly. “Free.”

Okay, he thought, this had to be a prank. Someone had stolen her phone, or otherwise spoofed her phone number, and was now using it to mess with her legion of fans. Obviously, Lucy had anticipated this, because the next message from her was a photo: Lucy, laying naked in bed, a white piece of paper covering her nipples. It read: NOT A JOKE. NO PRICE. I WANT YOU TREVOR.

Another message came through before he could respond: an address, date, and time.

…

One week later, and Trevor found himself knocking on the door to Lucy’s apartment. Naturally, he wasn’t able to afford the travel expenses, but she had been kind enough to cover those as well.

She had eventually provided an explanation: she was starting a “Fuck a Fan” series, and Trevor had been selected at random to be the star of the first video. Made sense to him, though he wondered if she knew he would be taking his virginity as well.

“Come in!” cried a female voice from within. Trevor obliged, opening the door and entering the apartment.

He was familiar with the layout, having seen it in so many of her videos: a modest studio, with a king-sized bed on the far side of the room. But now he was finally here, in the flesh, and in front of that bed was Lucy, beckoning him closer with her finger. Trevor was pleased to note she was wearing one of the lingerie sets he had bought for her.

He approached, and, just as he began wondering where the camera and the tripod were, she kissed him.

His first kiss! But the moment of triumph was ruined when Trevor realized that some sort of liquid had been in Lucy’s mouth, and she had used their moment of entanglement to spit it down his throat.

Whatever it was, it tasted awful, worse than anything he had ever drunk before. He backed away from Lucy, gagging and coughing.
That’s when he realized he was shrinking. He looked up at Lucy, helplessly. She looked down at him with a look of disgust.

….

As Greg waited in the closet, naked, he couldn’t help but think about the sequence of events that had led to this moment.

Everything had been going so well: they were in love, and their OnlyFans was bringing in tens of thousands of dollars a month. Clearly, there wasn’t ever going to be a better time to have kids, even despite the taboo nature of their lifestyle. So Lucy stopped taking her birth control, and they tired. And tried. And tried….

Nothing worked, not even IVF, which they spent most of their savings on unsuccessful round after round of. Was it Greg or Lucy that was the problem? Apparently, it was both, the first bit of bad luck for a couple that had always considered themselves so blessed.
They had given up all hope, when, after a day out shopping, Lucy came home, noticeably happier than she had been in years, at least since they had started trying to conceive.

The story she told him was bizarre: while walking down the street, Lucy had been approached by an old woman who sounded like she was from Eastern Europe. Impossibly, she knew about Lucy and Greg’s fertility issues, and offered Lucy a solution. As desperate as she was, she followed the crone to her store, where she gave Lucy a vial filled with a strange red-brown liquid.

“Left over from my last job,” she said.

All Lucy had to do, she explained, was consume half the potion. The rest should be given to a third party, man or woman, which would then proceed to shrink to a height of only a few inches. Then, Lucy and Greg would have sex, pushing the hapless victim into Lucy’s vagina.
This is when it got even weirder: the gypsy told Lucy that when Greg finally ejaculated, their unwilling partner would be transformed into a zygote, the 100% biological offspring of Greg and Lucy.

It was impossible. They’d be insane to try it. And yet, for some reason, they agreed with each other that they’d make the attempt anyway. Was it just desperation? Or did the old woman’s magic run even deeper than they thought, influencing their thoughts and actions on a subtler level?

In any case, their minds had been made up, and all that was left was to choose the unlucky victim. Greg and Lucy had long lists of enemies that they would have loved to snuff out, namely friends and family that had cut them out of their lives when they started making porn full-time, but they ultimately agreed it would probably be best to choose someone whose disappearance would go largely unnoticed.

Thus, one of Lucy’s Simps was the natural choice, and she picked the most pathetic one she could think of: Trevor. He had told Lucy that he had no friends, family, or job, and she also knew that he would blindly do whatever she asked; such was his unwavering devotion to her.

Greg, having interacted with Trevor many times before, whenever Lucy was busy or too tired to “spend time” with her fans, knew what she said was true.

Yes, it had to be Trevor.

…

Greg watched as Trevor shrank in front of Lucy. This should have freaked him out, he knew, but his sexual excitement overrode all other concerns. His penis was so hard, in fact, that it was almost painful.

He saw Lucy pull the thin fabric of her panties to the side, exposing her vagina. It was time. He sprang from the closet, and centered the tip of his penis directly at Trevor’s back. Then, he pressed forward, pushing his cock and the shrunken Trevor together into his girlfriend’s warm, welcoming vagina.

He pumped, each time feeling Trevor collide with the glans of his penis. It felt strangely good. It wasn’t long, then, before he came, and Lucy did as well, simultaneously. They exchanged a deep kiss until their ecstasy subsided. Later, both would agree it was the best orgasm of their lives.

When Trevor pulled out of Lucy, there was no sign of Trevor, not even his clothes.

It had worked.

…

The pregnancy test came back positive. That wasn’t a surprise, of course. Every other part of the spell had worked. The doctor confirmed the pregnancy. Again, no surprise there. That the tests later showed that the baby was a girl – now that was a shock! They had, for obvious, reasons, assumed it would be a boy. That it was twin girls came as an even bigger surprise! And identical twins to boot (though they didn’t learn this until they were actually born)!

Naturally, Lucy had to visit the Gypsy to express her gratitude, and a few months after the twins’ birth, the dust finally having begun to settle, she went to thank her for all she had done to help her. She was disappointed, but not surprised, to see that the old woman’s store had completely vanished, as if it had never existed at all.

Lucy simply shrugged, then began to make her journey home: the princesses would be waking from their nap soon, and she and Greg had wanted to get a shoot in before they did. After all, they had so many fans to please.