The Interrogation 3 (Chapter 6) (Patreon)

Though he still trembled from anger and lack of air, the sheriff looked bitterly satisfied to be finally having a straightforward conversation with Angelina, or at least as straightforward as could be while pinned under an avalanche of her sweaty ultra-dense melons. He frowned, trying in his bleary state against the late-night blackness to hunt for some deception in Angelina’s face.

“You’re screwing with me.”

“You honestly don’t believe that, after you just sucked milk out of the other side like a greedy baby and almost turned into the size of one? This is where you draw the line?” Angelina snorted. She leaned further down, her hair hanging in a midnight canopy around the sheriff’s head, until all he could see was the occasional glint in her eyes thanks to whatever flickers of headlight glow made it through her black tresses. “No, I’m not screwing with you. I don’t see a better way out of this, and I’m hoping you’ve got just enough brains to recognize that, too. My car is trashed, and you’re no good to me if you’re not big enough to undo these cuffs. So for the love of Christ, wrap those yappy lips back around me, you little bastard, and suck ‘til the cows come home.”

Though still appearing skeptical, the furious little sheriff was running preciously short on air now, the lower Angelina dipped her face and consequently scrunched her baggy tits around his neck, and through his screechy rage, he grasped enough of her bizarre-logic to go along. Indeed, he hadn’t believed until a short while ago that drinking a woman’s breast milk could shrink a human down into his clothes, so it wasn’t so great of a leap now to believe that the other side would fix him. Arrogance began to creep back in, and the sheriff managed a smile, realizing he did in fact have some leverage here since they were effectively stranded out in the dark where this busty out-of-towner would clearly be marooned without his help. He licked his lips, even managing a twitch in his crotch upon shifting his gaze from Angelina’s demanding focus back to the up-close terrain of her puffed-out boobs, which even in the dark managed to be visible due to their sheer luminescent whiteness and perspiration-shine. They truly were magnificent, if deadly, and despite it all, the sheriff enjoyed a little danger in his liaisons now and again.

So, after pausing to double-check he was selecting the opposite tea this time, Sheriff Williams awkwardly craned his neck to face the other breast. Flapping his lips like a fish, he eventually caught the nipple after a giggling Angelina helped him by nudging the whole rotund mass closer inward, until its bleached inner flank started to roll over the bottom half of his head like raw putty. This made it even harder to breathe, but the sheriff could finally reach the nip, which he took fully in his mouth and commenced imbibing. The tender skin around her areola stretched and spread, in and out at a rapid metronome pace, as the sheriff hungrily sucked the supposed remedy down. Warm milk filled his cheeks, and he managed to swallow somehow without it all gushing into his lungs. Despite his focus, a great deal of the liquid was spilled down his cheeks and even up to his eyes, making him look rather like the victim of a money-shot, but the sheriff was determined to regain his dignity no matter how messy it got, and took in three huge gulps before finally pausing to pant, catch his breath, and stare up at Angelina with renewed bravado.

“You’re in big fuckin’ trouble when I get back to normal, bitch. You get me?” he spat while licking up milk drops. “Yeah, I’ll take you back to the station, just like you want, but I’m not going easy on you like I was gonna before. See, I was planning on being nice, since you cooperated to start, but now I know it was all a ruse to exploit an officer of the law, you’re in for it now. Nobody fucks with the badge like that and gets away with it. I’ll see to it you can’t wake up or eat or take a piss without thinkin’ about the mistakes you made tonight, and if you know what’s good for you, you’re gonna be fully available for entertainment purposes twenty-four seven, just to make sure I stay in a good mood and keep you from being sent off to the hole for a month or two. And another thing…”

Angelina wasn’t given the pleasure of hearing the sheriff’s next demand, because another spurt of milk splashed into his gabbing mouth while, at the exact same moment, the words were ripped from his throat anyway by a shrill cry as he shriveled into his clothes. His shrieking head vanished right below the squashed horizon of her giant bosom, the sound eventually drowned out by muffled flab and cream flooding his cheeks. A moment later, Angelina could only hear a gurgle while the remainder of the sheriff’s fourth gulp washed down his tiny gullet. His beige uniform deflated beneath her, as there was hardly anything left of him for her to straddle in place.

Within the tangle of his shirt, the now-nude sheriff thrashed, trying to spit up the previous milk dosage in a panic, but only ended up hyperventilating. He tried to stand, but found it was impossible to do more than crouch against a weighty ceiling of muggy rounded dune, inverted and pressing in on the cave of his clothing. Speechless, the sheriff tried to claw his way out from under the doughy overhang of her rack, yet every direction he pulled himself just led to more of the unseen obstacle blocking his path. Terrified, he attempted flinging himself into the curved walls in hopes of forcing his way past to safety, but this only resulted in the sheriff boinging straight back the way he’d come, as though he’d thrown himself at full-tilt into a trampoline. Now too disoriented to move, and weak from the oxygen deprivation and milk clogging his esophagus, Sheriff Williams lay in a tiny heap in the dark, shivering on the verge of a heart attack while the ceiling came smashing down at last, sealing the last of the open space and pile-driving him flat under what felt like a hot air balloon filled with cement.

At the last moment, then, the pressure subsided, lifting away, and a pair of smooth trunk-like fingers swooped in, latched around the little man, and fished him out before any more falling assets could bulge flush to the ground and obliterate him. Helpless, the naked sheriff was dragged by the ankles back out into the blur of the night, momentarily blinded again by the squad car lights, and found himself hung upside-down from Angelina’s pinched thumb and forefinger, until she dropped him back on the pile of his clothes, turned back around, and knelt with her cheek to the ground. That billboard-sized face was a sight to behold: her eyes aglow and painted lips frozen in a Cheshire smile of absolute gloating. When Angelina opened her mouth to address the two-inch-tall man, it wasn’t to speak. Rather, a wall of raucous, self-delighted, vodka-flavored laughter hit the shrunken man so hard he rolled over like a tumbleweed with each new joyful peal.