The Interrogation 3 (Chapter 15) (Patreon)

“S-Sheriff… sir…” Owens sputtered, hanging his head and looking down on his boss. “M-Maybe we should j-just-”

“Don’t you fuckin’ DARE even think about tryin’ to negotiate,” Pullman scowled with almost as much malice for his underling as for the woman currently milking them to death. Once he opened his mouth again, his anger took over again just as readily, making him quake like an impotent pustule. “We do NOT surrender, not to anyone, and certainly not to terrorists like this here crazy science-experiment cunt. Owens, listen to me: she is not natural. And this is not real. Her power comes from the devil, see, and she can only hold reign over us if we refuse to stand our ground. The trick is not to believe.”

“I don’t enjoy having to tell you two this… all right, maybe I do…” Angelina chuckled. As she spoke, she wiped reforming drops of milk off her teats before they could plunk, and let the excess drip off the blade of her fingernail into the divide of her cleavage. The first tiny milk-bomb hit McDonald like a rock; the next pushed him just out of sight between his captor’s immense saddlebags; the third eased his greasy descent into the hot, mushy embrace of upcoming demise. “But regardless of whether you believe it when an ocean of my milk is filling in your body down to the size of a grain of sand, it’s going to feel awfully real. And if it helps you to make a decision by understanding better, all I can say is that a woman’s intuition, and a LOT of money, can speak a lot louder than anything the devil ever did. That’s if he’s real, and I don’t think he is, Sheriff, because I’m already plenty enough for you to handle on my own. So what’s it going to be, boys?”

Deputy Owens looked from his shrunken milk-frosted superior to the looming smirk on the gothic countenance of their self-made demi-goddess. Either convinced by the sheriff’s argument, or more likely paralyzed into quiet again, the young man lowered himself to a seated position in resignation and anticipation of conking out cold like McDonald.

“Oh, cutie-pie… I’m so disappointed,” Angelina drawled. “Now everyone’s going to take another drink, of course, but seeing how the good sheriff isn’t quite playing fair by trying to influence other participants, I’m afraid we’re going to have to make a tweak to the next round.”

“What the hell have you done with McDonald?” Pullman barked, though his voice held less and less authority with every shrink.

“Are those old eyes really as near-sighted as they seem?” Angelina laughed, jamming a finger between her cans. “He’s right in here! Well, he was, last I knew. I can’t exactly feel him any longer, after that last drink he took, which is a shame, because he might’ve gotten my motor running if he kicked for long enough. But, he’s too small to do much now. His choosing, not mine! I can’t help it if he doesn’t keep his mouth shut when it’s raining cats and dogs right over his head. But enough talk about the dearly departed. Let’s see if I can convince you to believe in me, Sheriff.”

Angelina reached out, pinching the sheriff around one of his stubby legs, and gave a small tug that nevertheless was enough to make the four-inch lawman wipe out. She proceeded to drag him across the surface, a journey aided by the Pollock-spatters of milk. Though he kicked and grunted, he soon found himself lying at the altar of the giantess’s malleable tits, the luminous flesh rolling forth against the edge of the table like a slow tidal wave the higher overhead she leaned. In his panic, thrashing face-down in the white puddles, Pullman had managed to lose another whole inch, which made the impregnable twin cliffs of the prisoner’s sacs even more monstrous. Though Angelina could’ve easily steamrolled him beneath her bulk by rolling forward a few more inches, she halted first and peered at him over the rounded swell above.

“Don’t feel too bad about this, Sheriff. There’s honor to be had falling in the line of duty. And since you seemed to be such a big fan of your partner, maybe it’ll help you to know that what I’m about to do to you is very similar to the way he met his end,” Angelina snarled. “Brothers in arms to the end.”

She unpinched Pullman’s leg. Much faster than he could’ve even dreamed of sprinting to safety, the tidal wave descended, and Angelina let her weaponized milkbags fall heavily on the three-inch man. Again she delighted at the sensation of his puny limbs pointlessly struggling to fight against the encroaching sky of uber-pale pliable sweat-oiled breasts. The deeper she hunched, letting her tits flatten against the table and distribute their incredible weight over the God-fearing sheriff, the more perspiration and leftover dairy mixture was released as cloudy rivulets spilling from the separated cleavage, all riding down the slope of her lush white skin toward Pullman at the bottom of the heap. The fight left him inside a minute, at which point he resorted to squirming, which Angelina still savored, if only because it meant that, for all his rage, he was too close to defeat to express it beyond uselessly nudging his tiny pinprick fists against a droopy, immovable ceiling of overheated knockers.

“He’s still moving, Deputy Owens, in case you’re concerned, and I know you are, though for what reason, I can’t fathom. Even if this little charmer hadn’t earned himself some time in solitary confinement by being so relentlessly irritating to me personally, I think it’s safe to say I’d still be doing this county a favor by letting him just… y’know… drink a nightcap,” Angelina said, resting her cheek upon the colossal boulders of her rack while focusing in on the new big man of the precinct. The scrawny redhead hunched in the fetal position, his thousand-yard stare transfixed by the woman’s gently-undulating chest owing to her deep breaths and the roiling of the shrinking man buried alive under a monument of boob meat. “Look at me, Deputy. I have a limited-time offer for you, and seeing how you’ve got survival instincts and just enough brains to match, I think you’ll want to take it. The reason I did this to Sheriff Williams was because he just couldn’t let me go. I had no choice. Now, you two are no longer of any consequence to me, and you still have the chance to impress. Tell me the code right now, and I’ll let BOTH of you live past that door. Two for the price of one. No more free drinks, delicious as they are. What do you say, sugar-plum?”

Owens, more overcome than ever, covered his eyes with a spastically quaking hand.

“By the way, the reason it’s such limited time is because Sheriff Pullman does not have long,” she added. “Most little boys who meet this side of me… specifically from this angle… only last five minutes, tops, but for a man of his age, in his shape? I’d be surprised if he makes it past three.”

“S-So if I tell you… now… y-you won’t make us drink anything e-else?”

“I swear it on the life of my husband, God rest his soul.”

“Okay, okay…” the deputy groaned, the logical reality of the situation having finally settled in past the madness. He hung his head in shame, but upon being reminded of the ticking clock when Angelina’s chest twitched again, no-doubt due to Pullman’s writhing throes under an ever-growing mountain of pasty megaton ta-tas, Owens blurted out: “The code is 5-8-0-0-8.”

“Oh, lovely. So poor little McDonald wasn’t fibbing after all. It’s a shame his memory was so much worse than yours, but then again, you’d be the one sinking slowly into a puddle while shrinking to the size of a microbe, so… I suppose his loss is your gain,” Angelina declared with a shrug. “And I had a feeling in the end it would be you who saw my way. You’d have made a great sheriff someday, agreeable and understanding as you are of when you’re beaten… but I suppose a new use will have to be found for you, unless you know of a county where they hire deputies shorter than Ken dolls.”

She reached out, giving Owens cause to flinch, but it was only to pat him on the head like a puppy, before she grasped the edge of the table and lurched to a stand. Angelina’s bosom, almost as though perking up with the rest of her mood, boinged back to its usual semi-buoyant posture, sagging near to her stomach but nevertheless maintaining enough elasticity to billow and bobble on the trip from the chair to the door. Angelina was so quick to punch in the suggestive digits, and overjoyed at the telltale ping of the mechanism unlocking, she failed to notice Owens’ wailing until her escape route was open.

“Where’s the Sheriff?” he cried.