The Interrogation 3 (Chapter 12) (Patreon)

Angelina was on him in a second. Her droopy ballast swooped up to meet the little man’s head when she lunged to the ground and gripped him by the scruff of his poncho-like uniform. Her nails dug into his chest as she tightened her fist and pulled him close, until Owens’ feeble neck was forcibly craned backward by the burgeoning swell of her melons, firmer now with adrenaline-arousal and an abundance of milk, ready to be served to parties both willing and unwilling. His face was buried in the crevice of those sweat-ointmented tits, the scrappy redhead’s nose and lips ill-advisedly huffing with mania while Angelina tugged him deeper and deeper into the fleshy embrace, until his hyperventilating cheeks inflating and deflating laughably undulated her blushing bosom too, though certainly not enough for him to slip away. At last Deputy Owens pissed himself in terror, something the woman would normally have harped upon with extended mocking, but she was on a tight schedule now.

“Stop squirming so much. You’ve had your last lap, and I’m willing to admit, I’m impressed you got away. I’m normally more on the ball. This night has just been such a drag, and I’m ready to be through with it and you,” Angelina hissed, not maliciously, but with hard conviction. “Now open up. The better you cooperate, the more pleasant this will be for you, and I’ve always thought a peaceful passing was the thing everyone chases on their deathbed. So drink up. I’m practically bursting now.”

“Noooo! No, no, NO!” Owens wailed, losing what little composure he had left.

Despite having no leverage with the giantess’s claws in his shirt and his cranium levied deep in the malleable flab of Angelina’s chest, the deputy wriggled with everything he had left. He fought so valiantly, in fact, the woman was irritated to find she couldn’t align his unruly face with her drippiest teat after extricating him from the slippery mammary-vice with her thumb and middle finger, nails pointed to his temple. Repeating her earlier move, only from much closer and with none of the theater, Angelina gave the meaty mass a powerful squeeze, forcing out half a liter of bubbly motherly goodness before the stream broke. Yet the deputy was wise enough to shut his mouth after the initial protest, causing the blast of milk to simply frost his face and drip over his trembling doll-features. His entire body and uniform were now doused in rich beverage, but he hadn’t shrunken at all.

“There really is something sort of special about you, isn’t there, little one?” Angelina sighed, tsking at the cream-coated ginger before giving him another near-smothering nuzzle in the literally breathtaking embrace of her cleavage. “I’d have taken my time with you, if only I had the luxury. Believe me. Not just one night, if I had you back home. Days, probably. It would have been more satisfying than most of the idiotic cowards I come across. And you’re still a coward, but maybe not such an idiot. Unfortunately, you’ll just have to go to waste, or I won’t be getting home at a reasonable hour. Now, for the last time, open that sweet-talking country mouth, kiss the second nipple of your life so you can make it a complete set, and let me fill you with-”

Angelina stopped, noticing bright lights on the floor outside the closet, along with brake screeches and the crunch of tires on gravel. Still gripping Owens by his shirt, she dragged the sloppy shrunken man like a ragdoll back into the hall, leaving a long milky smear in their wake while the deputy fruitlessly wormed. Through the hall window, Angelina could see the headlights of two parked cruisers flowing into the station, and for another rare occasion tonight, her heart clenched in her sizable chest.

“Oh, damn it, Deputy. Why did you have to be so much fun?” Angelina scowled. “Guess it’s your lucky day.”

Clutching the little man with both hands now, she held him at waist height, peeking at his beady horror-flushed eyes over the obese hills of her jugs, and then yanked the guy head-first at the densest and most immovable structures on her figure. Instantly his head conked and rebounded off the layers of cellulite, sending off rippling quavers from the nipple to her shoulder. It took a few jolting swings to fully do the job, but after the fourth skull-to-boob impact, Owens was knocked out cold. Once again Angelina felt a twinge of sickness, as she never left evidence when she went cruising like this, but this night was getting desperately complicated, and her clock had run out. Deciding she’d just have to deal with the risk of fallout later, she threw the milk-stickied half-size deputy back in the closet and shut the door.

Several minutes later, Old Sheriff Pullman, looking considerably more embittered and tomato-faced since investigating the site of Williams’ disappearance, entered the station alongside Deputy McDonald to find the mature silken-haired temptress back in her slinky evening wear and strolling casually for the doors as though she lived there, coming and going when she pleased.

“Now wait just a devil-tootin’ MINUTE!” the elder sheriff snarled. For such a paunchy stump of a man, he was quick to jump for the arrestee right as she reached for the handle, taking her roughly by the wrist. “What the hell are you playin’ at, missy? What part of being detained do you not understand?”

“Oh, I understand all of it, Sheriff, but as it turns out, I’m no longer under arrest! Or so I’ve been told,” she innocently replied. “Deputy Owens said I was discharged, and sent me on my way, in light of the fact that I haven’t done anything wrong except, maybe, accidentally nicking a tree with my car.”

Sheriff Pullman gave Deputy McDonald a mustache-twitching look, snorted, and shook his head, blocking the way out alongside the deputy. Angelina tried to keep her attention on the older man, the one who was clearly going to be the bigger obstacle to pass here, even though McDonald was the eye-catching opposite of his fellow deputy: tall, strapping, and cocky-eyed. He was precisely the kind of target Angelina would’ve spent an evening hounding, then after squeezing out all the fun she could, tricked him into drinking a milky Manhattan cocktail. Unfortunately, she knew she’d have to keep her wits about her to prevent the old man from inconveniencing her any further, especially because a certain redheaded dairy-drenched liability was currently stuffed in a closet probably suffering from a boulder-breast concussion.

“Deputy Owens, come in. I have the prisoner here out of her uniform and cell, actin’ mighty suspicious. Come in,” Pullman said into his radio, receiving no answer. He looked Angelina up and down, his gaze not even pausing over her capacious globes, which coincidentally was the only place Deputy McDonald noticed.

“I believe he said he needed to get some fresh air and went for a walk down the block?” she helpfully added. “It’s a nice night for it.”

“You’re really rackin’ up the body count tonight, aren’t you, Boob-Job?” Sheriff Pullman growled. He extended another finger, jabbing Angelina in the doughiest hock of her left breast with the same cruel intensity of before, until the pillowy flesh submerged his finger and brushed the knuckles again. The more brutally he pressed, the paler and veinier the bleached beauty-marked flab glowed. “We couldn’t find a trace of Sheriff Williams out on that road, not yet at least, and I’m willin’ to bet you’ve gone and hidden the kid now too, but sooner or later justice is going to catch up to you, and it’s going to sting. Mark my damn words. I suppose you had those mutant things artificially puffed up once you aged over the hill, just so you can go around lurin’ good men to their doom, wavin’ your cones around in sight of God and everybody. Well, I’m sorry to tell you, but if I have to look at those things too long, I just might vomit. They’re obscenities. Like a coupl’a trashy airbags. So let’s make this quick and to the point, before I get too sick to do my job. Deputy, take this ugly sack of silicone to the interrogation room. Don’t let her out of your sight. And secure her, for Christ’s sake. She’s a slippery one. I’ll get us some coffee. I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long night.”

While the grouchy sheriff shuffled back to his office, Deputy McDonald grabbed Angelina’s upper arm and marched her through the bullpen, diverting past the holding cells into a claustrophobic space with a metal table, chairs, and two-way mirror. On the trip there, and especially as she was seated and handcuffed to the table, Angelina made a special point of brushing up against the hunky deputy with just enough contact to get his attention while her bloated tits massaged his torso, but not so aggressively that he’d push her away. She’d already seen the look in his eyes, the same lust she’d noticed in Owens but with none of the bashfulness. Which meant at least one of the two remaining obstacles in the way of her freedom would be easy enough to melt with a hearty serving of her finest libation.

McDonald posted himself at the door and followed his orders by keeping his gaze trained on Angelina, but took the liberty of choosing which part of her to study. His attention was soon lost in the gulch of her freckled goods, and Angelina was glad to indulge by leaning forward as far as her awkward position would allow, bracing her chest against the cold metal of the table so it simultaneously showed off her bosom’s doughy yield while also letting her nips resume their diamond-prick hardness through the black lace-thin dress.

The interrogation room door slammed open again and Sheriff Pullman trundled in, a mug of steaming joe gripped in each hand, which he set down on the table. Raising an eyebrow as he took a seat across from Angelina, he looked to his coworker.

“She’s not tryin’ her charms on you yet, is she, Deputy?”

“No, sir,” McDonald stiffly replied, though it was only when the sheriff directly addressed him that he could pull his mind out of the gutter that was the detainee’s anemic milkbags.

“Well, just don’t let these things distract you,” the sheriff said. He reached across the narrow distance, forefinger extended, and nestled it back between the mushy slabs of Angelina’s knockers. “Make no mistake, she put them out as bait for weak-willed men. Like huntin’ deer. You just set the right thing to hook ‘em, wait nice and patient, then when the time’s right… bam!”

To illustrate his point, the sheriff swiftly retracted his chubby finger from Angelina’s cleavage, setting off a tremor that wracked both bulbous melons slumped on the tabletop. She’d become so used to this treatment throughout this dreadful evening, though, she scarcely acknowledged the man or his probing digit with a glance. Instead her gaze was fixed on the door, which had automatically locked the moment it closed. An electronic panel with a nine-digit keypad was fixed to the wall beside it, a red light indicating the bolt was engaged. It was a curious thing to see, since Angelina guessed it was just about the only thing in the building added after the ‘90s. That could prove a challenge to bypass, but then again, she was already well on the way to getting out of here. All she had to do was wait.

Deputy McDonald took a seat beside Sheriff Pullman and accepted the coffee, taking a long slurp from it while his boss entered a beady-eyed stare-off with Angelina. The older lawman took several sips of his own beverage in due time, sighing with refreshment, while their gothic guest tried to suppress a smile.

“Care for a swig, little lady?” the sheriff offered, holding his mug across the table.

“No, thank you. I’m more of a black coffee drinker myself,” Angelina said.

“Figured you for more of a vodka drinker, but suit yourself. Can’t say I didn’t offer now. Looks like my other deputy must’ve done somethin’ to sober you up, right before you did another magic trick and made him vanish like Sheriff Williams.”

“He certainly did. He’s a decent man. Little on the shy side, but I tend to have that effect on people.”

“Cut the bullshit, bitch,” the sheriff growled, snapping right back to his venomous business-side. He took another gulp from the mug, then pointed at Angelina again, looking for a moment like he was trying to come up with another practical reason to stuff his hand amidst her sweat-lubed can flab, but settled on a threatening prod at her erect nipple through the dress. “I don’t know what your game is, or how you managed to make two good officers disappear on the job while you were in handcuffs, but I’ll tell ya right now: you’re not leaving this room until I know the whereabouts of Sheriff Williams and Deputy Owens, and what’s more, I will do everything I have to… grease every palm, call in every favor in this county… to make sure you don’t see the outside of a prison cell or even the light of day again if some kind of permanent harm has come to them.”