The Interrogation 3 (Chapter 4) (Patreon)

The sheriff tipped the brim of his hat, met her gaze with a devilish twinkle in his eye, and heartily belly-laughed.

“Don’t mind if I do. If you keep up this kind of attitude, I’m sure we can work something out where your stay in our prison gets shortened from a few years down to just one or two.” Latching both sets of thumbs and forefingers around Angelina’s prized teats, the man hunkered down, licked his lips, and promptly wrapped his cruel mouth around the closest engorged nipple.

Immediately Angelina moaned, and she didn’t even have to play-act, though the sound was induced less by the physical pleasure of his desperate suckling, and more the near-sexual anticipation of what she’d just set in motion. Feeling the sheriff tonguing and lip-smacking the bumpy flesh-spigot, she could tell this wasn’t the first time he’d done this, though it was certain to be his last. Warmth at last spread over the freckle-dotted hills of her breasts, her oncoming victory beating out the cold, along with the man’s actually earnest efforts to affectionately service her sensitive tip. Not wanting to neglect the other equally awe-inspiring mega-tit, the sheriff swapped sides right before Angelina spurted, and she let herself go, right when the hungry molester took a deep breath in preparation for a long, languorous suck.

Angelina’s breast had fired a whole cup’s worth of hot frothy dairy down the man’s throat before he even realized what was happening. Sputtering, he withdrew, coughing while milk spilled down his chin, though in effort to clear his lungs, ended up swallowing almost all of the white liquid that made it between his jaws. Dumbfounded, though still a little aroused at this unexpected turn, the sheriff was about to speak, when something else happened to struck him silent and, most importantly, reduced him from man to little boy.

Size-wise, at least. He still retained his goatee and paunch, but when the shrinkage was over, the officer couldn’t have been much taller than three feet, nearly half his former stature. At last it was Angelina’s turn to gut-bust with laughter at the sight of her tormentor dwindled down to such a lowly “man,” with his much-too-large clothes hanging floppily off him like pajamas.

“Oh, my. Just look at you. Is it take-your-son to work day? Because it looks like you tried on your daddy’s uniform when he wasn’t looking, little one,” Angelina taunted, absolutely glowing in the face of this table-turned triumph.  Her victim was still too stunned to reply, looking back and forth from his miniaturized body, then back up at the arrestee, who now appeared much more amazonian than before. His jaw still gaped, but no longer from arousal at the woman’s naked tits, which looked the size of overinflated beach balls now.

“W-What… what the f-fuck…” he mustered in a high pitch.

“God, you even sound like a little boy now,” Angelina scoffed. “Though I see this didn’t cure you of your wandering eye syndrome. That funny little thing between your legs is just about the only part of you that’s going to be growing from now on.”

“What the fuck did you DO to me?” he pitifully roared. The little man stumbled forward, grappling with the hem of Angelina’s skirt, likely in an attempt to appear intimidating, but he only succeeded in looking like a child whining at his mother.

“What did I do? Does it look like I can “do” anything like this?” Angelina innocently snickered, giving her handcuffs a jangle. She nudged her slender leg, clad in black silk, up between the officer’s stubbier limbs, and lifted him an inch off the ground. “You’re the one making the arrest, sheriff. You gave me sobriety tests, put me in handcuffs, performed a pat-down… you’re the one in control here, not me.”

“I mean it, lady,” he insisted, batting his fists at her thighs. “This isn’t fucking funny. Undo whatever you just did right now, or I swear to God, I’ll… I’ll…”

“What? Go on, please. I’m very curious to know what you plan on doing like this.”

“You wanna see what?” he groused, untangling himself from her long leg. Grabbing his shoulder-mounted radio, he barked into the receiver: “Dispatch, this is Sheriff Williams. I need backup. I’m-”

Before he could finish his thought, the sheriff was thrown clean off his feet, when Angelina balletically whipped her leg out, catching him in the stomach with the stilettoed end. The man stumbled over in the mud, coughing to regain his lost breath. By the time he’d reoriented himself, the dark-haired siren was already standing above him, looking rather haunting with her towering black silhouette backed by the flashing squad car lights. Before the sheriff had the chance to reach for his radio again, Angelina was stepping on his shoulder, applying pressure with the hard sole of her shoe and her pointed heel, and unclipping the device from its holster. In a flash she’d crunched it underfoot in the grass, twisting her shoe until it crackled and died.

“Looks like you’re the one who can’t stay standing now, sheriff,” Angelina teased. “Are you sure you haven’t had a little something to drink tonight? A White Russian, perhaps, minus everything but the cream?”

“You bitch. Do you understand what you’ve done here? You’ve resisted arrest, destroyed property, assaulted an officer… and that’s on top of your drunk driving,” he shouted from the ground.

“Really? You shrunk into your clothes after you sucked on my tits, and those are the charges you’re worried about?” Angelina laughed. She straddled the prone three-foot officer, then hunched to her knees, effectively blocking him from standing again with the immensity of her figure, particularly the swollen airbags of her chest hovering overhead. “I think all the stress is getting to you, sheriff. I think maybe you need another sip to help take the edge off.”

“Keep those fucking things away from me!” the man yelped. He floundered under Angelina, trying to wriggle out from between her legs, but her thighs clamped around his much-smaller set, and her strength advantage allowed her to keep him worming right underneath her. Steadily his eyes bugged in horror as the woman’s bared rack descended.

“What, had enough so soon? You don’t like them anymore now, huh? A minute ago, you couldn’t get enough of them. Why the change of heart? I would think that seeing them even bigger would get you even more excited! Maybe you just need a closer look,” Angelina crooned. Her throaty giggles punctuated the man’s frightened moaning while her plush set lowered inch by inch. They drooped, giving themselves to gravity, as though reaching for the man’s head, nipples-first. A drop of her leftover milk plopped from the duct, splatting on the sheriff’s forehead, and he flinched like a bullet had been fired at the same spot.

A second later, Angelina was upon him, with her hands still bound behind her back, but all the control of the situation ceded to her. The sagging mountains of her chest mashed gently from either side of the sheriff’s head, boxing his face into the slowly deforming center of her cleavage. Freshly glossed anxiety-sweat and a few loose milk-droplets comingled where the man’s eyes, nose, and mouth were gagged by the alabaster flesh valley. A double helping of flab slouched like a pair of month-old pumpkins, molding to his head, though the leaden hardness below the outer cellulite ensured they weighed oppressively on the sheriff, with no chance for oxygen to reach him. This happened even without Angelina needing to lean too far in, though of course she did anyway, slowly shifting her slinky body weight down until she was lying full on top of the officer, with his softball-head in prime motorboating position, if he wasn’t currently drowning in that same boob mass instead. Just like that, his new favorite toys had become deprivation instruments.