Interrogation Chronicles: One-Night Shrink (Chapter 7)

Before I could ask if she was fucking with me, Angie showed she was at least willing to play by some rules, even if she had the whole game rigged in her favor, by loosing her hold on my head. Sighing with antsy relief, I massaged my temple where her giant fingers had previously gripped on like surgical retractors. My knees were still quaking as though I was bracing to keep a car from rolling down a hill, though the giantess wasn’t applying any pressure on me now, at least not physically. Sure enough, she folded both hands behind her back to show she was serious, while bringing both feet together so her imposing stature was stiffened to its highest point. She’d allowed Doug’s shrunken frame from the stomach-up to hang out of her vivacious cantaloupes-on-steroids, giving me a fragile target to aim for. My buddy whimpered pathetically, apparently totally unable to appreciate how much body-to-body contact he was currently enjoying with indeed the greatest rack either of us had ever had the pleasure to observe in all our days, though I guess in Doug’s defense, I’d have had trouble really living it up in that pulsating sandwich of clamped tit girth, too.

I could do this, I told myself. It wasn’t even as high as a basketball hoop. Not that I could dunk, but it was comforting to view it that way. Angie was plainly content to wait for me, smiling that placid good-hostess smile as she watched me huff and sweat from the anxiety of knowing I had but one clean shot to save Doug and myself. Right when I began to fear that I was testing my luck by waiting so long, I squatted down and steadied my gaze on my wingman. He closed his eyes, probably no more excited than I was, since it likely would bruise a little when he was ripped like a Band-Aid out of her oily milk-trickled cleavage in T-minus two seconds. With nothing else to lose, but also a genuine belief that I could still deliver the day here, I took the leap. I could feel my form was good, and as I raised my hands, I knew that I was going to get enough height to reach Doug. I would be able to pull him free and then, if Angie turned out to be a sore loser, make a break for it with my wingman tucked under my arm like a football.

Of course, “was” and “would” didn’t do me much good when, a split-second before I reached my buddy, Angie’s whole upper body snapped forward and down with even greater force than that of my jump, which meant that my hands not only met rebounding chest brawn instead of Doug, but that my face landed with the speed of a major league fastball against a jiggly anvil-weighted descending wallop of the same fleshy force. One smarting face-plant into her tit, and I was out cold before I even hit the ground.

“I did say I wouldn’t lay a hand on you, didn’t I?”

Angie’s voice was the first thing I perceived in the groggy blackness when waking again. The next was the sensation of leather straps closed tight around my wrists and ankles, which upon opening my eyes, I realized kept me loosely crucified across a bed that was naturally far too big for someone of my sub-half-shrunken stature. The binds didn’t actually hurt, but I could tell, given my position and with so much less strength and energy at my disposal, I may as well have been shackled in iron.

“Well, didn’t I?”

Her body came into focus again when she moved out of alignment with a drawn curtain. That loping hourglass silhouette on Angie had lost none of its magnificence once everything had more than doubled in size from my perspective. If anything, she was better than ever, and those tits most of all, still pale and plump and glinting like rain-splattered marble. I didn’t see Doug’s head hanging out from the claptrap of her cleavage now, though despite my continued worry for my buddy, the fact that I was now tied to a bed, naked and mini-me’d, put my priorities squarely back on myself.

“Answer me, please, Shawn.”

“Y-Yeah,” I responded, my voice barely feeling like mine.

“Of course I did. Just checking to make sure you’re still with me. A ‘present’ lover is the only kind worth having,” Angie said, catwalking toward me again in the same way which had driven me so wild three-and-a-half-feet taller ago. She stood at the end of the bed, her long fingers closing around my ankles and tugging me closer to her in defiance of the straps. The slow tug-of-war resistance I felt made me struggle and sputter harder, though I could scarcely jitter, what with the leather holding my limbs so taut, and Angie’s possessive grip stiffening me out otherwise. Even so, her touch again activated another pleasure response in me, because apparently my dick hadn’t caught up yet with the fact that we were being held captive instead of about to titty-fuck a gorgeous mature madwoman. Or were we?

She snickered at my helpless reaction, then let go of my legs and instead climbed onto the mattress herself. Hand-over-hand, the nude giantess came over me again as she had in the living room, taking control in exactly the way I’d once wanted. But this time, the only part of me accidentally having a good time was my groin. The sight of those fleshy-freckled endlessly-pliable ballast bags drooping while she crawled on all fours, her nipples erect as if they were independently reaching for my shrunken form, set off certain signals in my brain which provided some oddly-timed lustful relief from the overall dread, but on the whole, I would’ve preferred to be pretty much anywhere else on Earth right now, including inside an active volcano, or sitting next to my wife while she looked through a hypothetical photo album of every bimbo I ever convinced to blow me.

“I’d really like to apologize for that whole interruption,” Angie said, approaching slower now as she looked down on me with an ear-to-ear smile that made it all so much worse. Again her luxurious black locks hung down in silky lagoon-like cataracts that soon limited my view of the room to just my self-satisfied giant hookup’s smirk and her breathtaking chest. “In my defense, though, it was your friend who decided to cock-block you, not me. But I see no reason why we can’t still pick up where we left off, before he decided to make a fuss about me leaving him on hold in a shoebox while you and I took care of business. Now, I realize this night’s become a bit of a new experience for you… maybe going a few directions you didn’t anticipate… and that goes for me, too, seeing how you just might hold some kind of time record for drinking my milk without shrinking. But there’s no cause for alarm. I’m going to guide you through every part of this night, Shawn. I have a feeling that’s what you wanted, anyway.”

When she stopped slinking over me, my entire body fit under the shadow of Angie’s top-heavy torso alone. Her moon-bounce boobs sagged lower than ever, with their husky white pudge actually resting across most of me at once. This seemed like definitive proof that Doug wasn’t still jammed up there somewhere since he probably would’ve fallen out, but again more pressing (literally) was the creeping panic of realizing in such tactile terms just how easily Angie could suffocate me with her chest right now. Granted, I could still breathe, but that was only because she was shouldering most of their weight. Were she to collapse on me now, my lungs would empty like little whoopee cushions under the force of her zonkers.

I fought more energetically now to worm out of the leather restraints, briefly wondering if I could do the action hero thing where they break their own fingers or whatever to slip out of binds, but then I remembered who I was, and how I’d pretty much walked into every stage of Angie’s trap. I didn’t have it in me to break free. So instead I lay there, impotent as a larvae, and let my terror-and-begrudging-arousal shudders quell by force as more and more of Angie’s rolling breast burden consigned to bury me in her sweaty suck-worthy pec flab.

            “I guess you remembered exactly where we left off, didn’t you?” she taunted, reaching just below her chest and taking hold of where my involuntary chub had nestled dwarfishly against her slumped underboob region. Of course even at my hardest, it only took three of her fingers to pinch my emasculated manhood fully. I braced, expecting her to tug it like a toy drawstring until I made funny sounds for her and then deflated my unwanted excitement again. Instead, she invited my member to point up and notch between her sunken blubber goods. It felt good in there, despite myself, especially once Angie began to lurch forward and backward on her hands and knees above me. Her tits didn’t move much, anchored as they were on top of me, but I could nevertheless feel the pulse of the puffy outer layer tightening and then depressing as she simulated me thrusting my rod up between her breasts, without actually being able to move.

            This wasn’t exactly how I’d expected things would go once I finally got to stick it to her chest, though to Angie’s credit, it felt so fantastic for the first few luscious seconds of pumping and pleasing in that hanging flesh gulch of her milk blimps that I almost forgot about the straps around my appendages, or the fact that I was no longer tall enough to legally ride any major roller coaster. Her boobs made for more than enough of a theme park ride for me, though, and because I guessed I wasn’t about to talk Angie out of keeping me tied down here, or learn how any of what she’d done to me was scientifically possible – and since by this point I was half certain everything that happened after Doug showing up shrunken was some fucked-up dream anyhow – I was temporarily coaxed into enjoying the thrills and chills that came with her goods. Whether it was because of my own sexual desperation or the momentum of Angie’s knockers pulling on my shaft, I couldn’t say, but soon my body was humping in congress with hers. Warm sweat dripped from between her veiny spheres and pooled on my stomach, and I was pretty sure a few more choice trickles of leaked dairy were painting my hips now from the exertion imposed on the whole fatty drum-tight complex of those twins.