The Interrogation 3 (Chapter 14) (Patreon)

“Oh, we’ll count that one I suppose, since you’ve been mostly helpful otherwise,” Angelina said. “But I want to see a big swallow next time. I’m talking full cheeks. Sheriff, I guess that just leaves you. And… don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like you’re in desperate need of some refreshment. Luckily, that’s my specialty.”

“If you think… for even one… second…” Pullman huffed, both from labored breathing and continuous furor. “…that you’re goin’ to get away… with this… then you can’t even imagine… the shit-storm you’re bringin’ down on yourself. You… will… pay… a hundred damn times over. With everything you… do… every word you… speak… makes it all the worse for you. And… one more thing, bitch-”

Getting bored, Angelina took the opportunity to discourage the sheriff’s grumping with the fullest-yet blast of milk. It ejected from her erect nipple with such fervor, for a moment the white stream appeared in the dim interrogation room lighting like an unbroken arc of glimmering polished marble. Most of the bubbly goodness sprayed right off Pullman’s head in his sputtering resistance, but when he turned his head back and gasped for air, his lips opened even wider, and that’s when Angelina made him take his medicine. The handcuff around his neck made it impossible to turn more than a few degrees away, and Angelina was a talented enough sharp-shooter with her own bulbous udders that only some of the liquid prize went undrunk, forming puddles on the table and dripping off the edge. Chains rattled and the old man shrieked through the gargled milk, nearly slamming his head on the table in effort to gain purchase. With the first round of the combination drinking-game-interrogation-session complete, the sheriff was down to eight inches, the rookie to a foot-and-a-half, and poor McDonald a measly feather-weight two inches.

“I hope everyone’s feeling good and refreshed now,” Angelina said. She leaned back in her chair, resting her cheek against an upturned fist, though even arched away from the table, the sheer volume of her rack kept some milk-moistened blubber shelved on the edge. “Not to alarm anyone before I ask you the same very important question, but judging by what I’m seeing here, if you boys can’t handle yourselves better in the next rounds, I’m afraid you’re going to drink yourselves under the table long before we ever hit double-digits. And under the chairs, and under the ground… and under my heel, if necessary. But who knows, right? You boys are in charge of when we get to leave, not me! So I’ll ask you again, with all the love and respect I hold for the brave boys in beige: WHAT is the code for the door? I’ll give you a generous ten seconds to mull it over before I start pouring round two. Starting now. Ten… nine-”

“Wait!” McDonald squeaked. In effort to stand “tall” and make himself more visible, the puny deputy slipped and fell on the rampant milk pools smeared over the table, though an amused Angelina patiently waited for the two-incher to get his bearings and cautiously scramble toward her tapping fingertips. “I… I d-don’t KNOW the code!”

“Oh, poor Deputy McDonald. I’m afraid you’ve failed to understand the core concept of this activity!” Angelina chuckled. “And there was only one for you to grasp, too.”

“N-No, no, I mean… I d-don’t have it memorized! I t-think it starts with a 5, but that’s all I know. We j-just got that system, and it’s n-not usually my job to… to… I m-mean, I would give it t-to you if I could, but…”

“Well, that’s a very sweet sentiment. Thank you. And one number is better than none. Unfortunately, it’s not going to save you, since it doesn’t do me any good for you to be blathering like an idiot, but for what it’s worth, I do believe you on both counts: that you’re too uninvolved to know the code, and that you’d be enough of a lamb to help me,” Angelina said. Her fingers clenched the surplus cellulite around her hardened nip, causing the duct to drool milk. “Bon voyage, you handsome little dolt. It’s too bad we met under these circumstances, because if we’d crossed paths at a bar, you’d have had much more fun before we reached this point of parting ways. But what can you do?”

Her point made, Angelina clapped her tit hard between both hands from opposing sides, upsetting the jellied equilibrium enough that for a moment the squishy orb elongated up and down like the ends of an hourglass, love-handle skin folding over her palms, before erupting from the business-end with milk. Though McDonald dropped to the metal surface and covered his head, the violent dairy hit him like an uncontrolled firehose, launching him instantaneously off his feet toward the edge of the table and the inevitable milk-fall to rival Niagara. He disappeared as quickly as the pearly steam-wafting liquid had met its mark, obscured by stray droplets jettisoning every which way. The elder sheriff and younger deputy both gawked in horror while also unsuccessfully attempting to dodge the splash-zone, spitting to keep even a single glob from passing their lips.

“Well, well, well… maybe you missed your calling as a mountain climber,” Angelina giggled, standing and strolling around the side of the table to discover an inch-tall McDonald clinging like a barnacle to the cusp overlooking a mortal plunge. “Color me impressed. No, I’m serious. I thought for sure you’d be crumpled on the floor now. Just for that, I’ll let you spectate a little longer. I won’t even make you drink in the next round! But mostly because I think you’ll vanish into thin air if you get another swallow.”

Right as the deputy lost his grip, Angelina’s fingers were quick to snatch beneath him, swooping the micro-victim up toward the unholy marvel of her cleavage. Using just two fingers to ply apart perspiring flesh and make a wider valley for him to enter, she inserted the little guy betwixt. He was short and powerless enough of course that she only had to let his legs catch in the wedged flanks of firm freckled skin, and McDonald was left to wobble like a scarecrow in a tornado each time Angelina inhaled and re-inflated her jugs, let alone budged any muscle that gave those assets a reason to shimmy. Seating herself back in the chair opposite the last two viable contestants, the temptress slipped a fingertip under her inadequate neckline, liberating the second planetary hooter from the silk, which made it all the easier to seductively massage her rich bosom back and forth while simultaneously reverse-motorboating McDonald’s whole body in the naked ravine.

“One down, two to go,” Angelina said. “Can you boys feel the excitement? I sure can. Or maybe that’s just because Deputy McDonald feels so pleasant right there, close to my heart. Another missed career opportunity for him. No matter, though. That was well over ten seconds, and I haven’t heard the beautiful singing of any canaries, so I believe you’re both due for another swig.”

Like doomed men lined up before the firing squad, the nude milk-savaged interviewees solemnly took their next squirted bout without complaint. The sheriff still radiated hatred so hard it emerged as pre-stroke sweats, while the deputy fought through the flowing terror-tears enough to accept the milk without doubling over, but neither made a sound except to nearly choke when their lungs were nearly lactated as well as their guts. The makeshift handcuff collars hardly served a purpose now, small as the pair had become, but it didn’t matter now that they too were marooned atop the table, at the risk of a limb-shattering drop over the slippery side. Owens was down to eleven inches, while Pullman diminished to four.

“Much better this time. Barely a drop wasted. See how much easier this is when you cooperate? See how I’m a woman of my word? Just imagine how quickly this conversation could be over if one of you would show the same kind of teamwork by telling me the numbers I want to know. Just a few silly digits. That’s all,” Angelina soothingly explained. To divert herself mid-pep talk, she methodically sifted pressure from one hand to the other, mashing in the plush outer curves of her chest, her pupils swinging to and fro to watch along with her pendulum-rocking globes. With each pulsating squeeze, Deputy McDonald was yanked a smidge deeper into the flesh trap like quicksand, until only the dot of head still peeped above the fatty fault line. His smothering yelps were easily drowned out by Angelina’s musical simper. “Granted, it may not seem much like teamwork, considering that whichever of you is smart enough to speak up first gets to leave here in one piece, while the other goes for an extended scuba-dive in a puddle of milk the size of the Pacific, but don’t think of it like that. Think of me instead as your fairy godmother who’s going to give you your greatest wish, of leaving here with what height and dignity you have left, if only you realize how little to gain you have by going down with the ship.”