The Interrogation 3 (Chapter 8) (Patreon)

Sputtering through lethal drink, with only his head still visible above the muddied milk puddle due to his lack of athleticism, Sheriff Williams squealed a last unintelligible retort before Angelina nudged herself forward, rolling just one mammoth breast overtop of the tire tread, as that was all it took to completely cover the collected milk and micro-fellow in impassible cellulite. He was sealed inside.

As her flab sunk into the cool depths, almost thick as melted ice cream, excess milk squelched up from the sides and trickled through the grass, while the increasingly tiny lawman was pushed deeper into the puddle. By the time he was pinned to the soggy basin of the puddle, submerged completely in lung-flooding miracle milk as Angelina’s colossal boob fitted its bouncy heft to the clumsy mud hole like Play-Doh, the giantess couldn’t even feel his body pressed against her blanched skin anymore. His speck-self had become indistinguishable from flecks of caked mud sifting through the milk, and when at last she was satisfied enough to lift her breast out of the tread mark, though her tainted dairy splashed everywhere, clearing the new gravesite, the sheriff was nowhere to be seen.

Snickering to herself for her own ingenuity under such annoying constraints, Angelina sighed happily, then worked herself back to her haunches to begin the clumsy process of searching the officer’s leftover clothes for the key to her handcuffs so she could at last hop into his car and get the hell out of this bothersome county. No sooner had she rolled over on top of the uniform and begun fumbling with the belt, however, when another set of headlights washed over the scene, coming down the same road as Sheriff Williams had. Angelina rolled her eyes, irritated that now she’d have to breastfeed another random stranger to take care of all witnesses to this odd scene, but for the second time tonight, the powerful woman felt that rare tingle of dread in her gut at the realization that it wasn’t a good Samaritan, but a second sheriff car pulling up to the scene and screeching to a halt on the shoulder. This time, two officers emerged, one a young virgin-faced twenty-something redheaded young man and the other a grim graying mustached veteran officer with even more beer paunch than Williams.

“What in the hell am I lookin’ at, Deputy?” the older sheriff barked.

“N-Not sure, sir.” The deputy’s wide eyes darted around the befuddling sight before them: a smoking sports car wrapped around a tree, an abandoned cruiser, a neatly discarded sheriff’s uniform, and a half-naked handcuffed woman glazed in sweat, mud, and dribbled milk hunched in the blinding headlight beams.

“Well, that’s the Sheriff’s car, plain as day. That vehicle makin’ love to that tree there matches what the man radioed in, and so does the woman, but… I don’t see Williams.”

“Are… t-those the Sheriff’s clothes, sir?” the deputy mumbled, pointing at the evidence.

“That they are,” the older man agreed. He stomped down the slope, a hand above his holster, and stood over Angelina. “All right, ma’am. You’re goin’ to have to tell us what’s become of Sheriff Williams. See, we received a call for backup from him. Sounded pretty urgent. Yet I don’t see head or tail of him.”

“You know, it was the strangest thing, Officer,” she said, balancing back to a stand on her high heels. “He insisted on cuffing my hands without even reading me my rights… and what a big strong man like that had to fear from someone like little old me, I’ll never know… then, out of the blue, he just strips down… all the way down, like a chimp… and runs off into the trees that way. I’m sure if you get moving now, you’ll catch up to him. Though… I trust you could be gentlemen and undo these cuffs first, and then I’ll be out of your hair. The poor man, he must’ve simply cracked under the intense pressure of the job.”

The elder Sheriff chewed a toothpick while examining Angelina from head to toe with the same staid expression. He glanced next to his deputy, who appeared too embarrassed to look their way due to the woman’s on-display tits, which were not only totally exposed and prickling with goose bumps and hardened nipples thanks to the chilly night air, but likely the largest and doughiest set of udders he’d ever seen, if not the very first he’d seen without a porn site in between him and reality. Judging by the ginger boy’s blushing discomfort with the scene before them, Angelina couldn’t help but smirk at this obvious rookie, both as a cop and as a man. The more experienced Sheriff, however, gave her less confidence, as he didn’t look her up and down with the same coarse lustfulness as Williams, but rather a colder and uncaring study, like her prize-winning cans were just sides of raw beef hanging in a butcher shop rather than the gloriously dense mounds of baggy mammary they were. Ironically, that kind of robotic look was much less useful to Angelina than the dopey first sheriff’s, as Williams had been so easily manipulated into drinking from her forbidden fruits. Neither of these guys, however, looked at all tempted by thirst to come in for a fondle and a suckle. This two-man cavalry, each for their own respective reasons, made Angelina nervous that made this strange night, which already was NOT her night, might just continue on disappointing her.

“Not sure I buy that tale. Do you, Deputy?”

“I’m… afraid not, sir.”

“No, unfortunately ma’am, it’s clear to me you were handcuffed for a reason. Judging by the smell of your breath, you didn’t hit that tree just by dodgin’ a rabbit on the road, and while this is indeed Sheriff Williams’ attire…” the older officer continued, stooping to pick at the leftover uniform. “…I don’t believe the man stripped down and ran off into the woods mid-arrest. I believe you did something to him, took off his clothes, and now you’ve hidden his body somewhere around here.”

“Hidden him? Officer, really, with these on my hands?” Angelina balked, jangling her shackle chains. She pouted her lips to a frown, then arched her back just enough so her pudgy breasts hung especially freely, silhouetted against her black dress in the harsh spotlights of two cop cars. Those slabs of puffy skin appeared so pale now under this luminescent scrutiny that even her numerous freckles nearly turned invisible, while the veins appeared electrified-blue. Fresh sweat cleansed the mud trickles and stray milk driblets, both down the deep crack of her cleavage and out the bottom, as well as over the balloon-like curve of each spongy tit, diverting only at the twin peaks of her razor-raised areolas.

“Don’t you try to play coy with me, missy,” the sheriff growled, his nastier side shining through the folksiness with almost no provocation. He poked a chubby finger at Angelina’s nose, then did the same at the center of her proffered bosom, but struck hard and fast in the squishy depths, not lingering for even a second to massage the greased white skin as Williams had. This contact actually hurt Angelina just enough to make her wince at the sensation of his digit burrowing cruelly between buxom masses, until he could jab at the tender center between. “And don’t think tempting us with womanly features is goin’ to work. I see the type of girl you are already, and I’d be willin’ to bet what you’re selling may have worked on my partner. God bless him, he’s got a weakness sometimes for the flesh, especially when it’s whored around like you’re tryin’ to do now. But you’re in my county, under my jurisdiction, and waving your chesticles around like maracas just isn’t gonna cut it. I am going to find out what you’ve done with Sheriff Williams, and if you fail to cooperate, you’ll be for in for even more of a world of hurt than I suspect you’ve already bought for yourself. I’ve got you on drunk driving, I wager, and possibly obstruction of justice, not to mention whatever-the-hell you’ve done to a good man of the law. With all that in mind, do you plan to play ball now, woman, or do we have to load you in the paddy-wagon and sweat some sense out of you back at the station?”