Giantess World
The old man was visibly shrinking now even while continuing to suck down deadly helpings of breastmilk, dwindling into the ties. This time Angelina didn’t even bother trying to tighten them to keep up with his reduction in size, clearly not the least bit concerned with the possibility of him fleeing. Soon he was smaller than both John and Monica, less than half his already grossly diminished doll-stature, when at last Angelina popped the straw out of his mouth. Hacking and spitting up lactate, the old man clung loosely to consciousness while buried under rope at his newly crunched size. Just as he opened his eyes again, of course, Arthur was hit in the face with a single stray blob of partially congealed milk that Angelina expertly flicked off the tee of her nipple. Again she was the only one to laugh.
“Oh, don’t feel so bad for him, you gullible idiots,” Angelina giddily chided the three horrified younger shrinkees. “I saw through it the moment he started speaking. I’m surprised you didn’t, with all your business expertise. Arthur here was going to get you on his side by pretending to sacrifice himself, then rile you all up enough to start volunteering yourselves instead of him, while also trying to prove to me that he’s not so desperate for self-preservation that he couldn’t serve as my puppet in the company. Unfortunately for him, it backfired, and now he’s the smallest among you. Use your heads, all of you, while you still have heads big enough to form thoughts. It just might let you think of an answer that makes me happy, like poor belly-up Bob here who, if I’m not mistaken, has pissed himself. That’s the kind of initiative I’m looking for in a winner here, not reverse psychology.”
Dumbfounded, Monica, Bob, and John looked almost pleadingly at Arthur, hoping it wasn’t true. To their crushing dismay, the bitter old man had recovered sufficiently to look upon them with resentment and hatred, indicating he was not even remotely at peace in the ruins of his backfired plan.
“The three of you deserved to be cut off even before this psychotic bitch came along,” Arthur snarled venomously, shattering his usual dry well-bred tone. “And I’ll be damned if one of you three whelps is going to still be around instead of me to see the end.”
Watching the anger and discord now ruminating among the tiny group, all sharing hissed insults and renewed tears, Angelina delightedly took the opportunity to address everyone at large with a clap of her hands:
“Now, fair is fair. We know now why each of you is here, but I suppose it is a tad hypocritical of me to point fingers at you all like this, when I fully plan to use the company as my personal piggy bank once I’ve loosened your grips on the darn thing. Still, at least I have the decency to be up-front about what I am and what I want…”
The woman receded through the doorway now and into shadow, just as ominously as she’d first arrived. The last part of her figure to vanish was, of course, her uncloaked breast, coated now in creeping sweat, flecks of miss-sprayed milk, and dancing candlelight.
“…unlike the lot of you, who put on public masks with benefits and charities and eco-developments, then screw everyone behind their backs. I prefer the kind of screwing done straight to the face, like I’m about to finish doing to all of you. And now that everything is out in the open, I think you’ll all find this way far purer, too. Don’t get too comfortable. We’re going to have a winner-take-all lightning-round next to decide which of you shrinky-dink ingrates gets to live to see the morning, right after I get a refill!”
With all four board members in various states of reduction, overcome with equal parts broiling fury and hysteria, they were surprised when Angelina returned just as quickly not with a refilled glass, but the whole bottle, plus a bowl. Too concerned with their own mortalities, none had the bravery at this point to question what the gothic giantess was up to now, though they had a feeling she’d make it painfully clear.
“Oh, you thought I wasn’t going to offer you all some wine, too? What kind of host would I be to drink in front of you? I’m sure the beverages I’ve already provided didn’t quite satisfy your thirst just yet,” Angelina said, falsely affronted at the notion. She poured herself another round from the bottle, then dumped the glass container over the bowl until the rest of the rich purple substance had emptied. Everyone watched, bewildered and silent as the grave.
Casting them all another toothy simper, Angelina languidly wrapped her fingers over the left-hand neckline of her dress. With so much tension plied upon the fabric from the weight of her saggy right tit slung over the folded top of the garment, it took only a gentle pluck for the shoulder strap to spring loose and the dress to hang in a silky mess around Angelina’s stomach, while her whole torso, and especially that matching set of oily, engorged hot air balloons she called breasts, was liberated. Once again garnering the quartet’s full undivided attention thanks to the suggestive properties of the milk they’d already drunk, the giantess put on a show. She mashed her breasts together, starkly deepening the dividing line in her cleavage, then pried them apart to display the sheer range of her lethargic tits, so prone to quivering like jello, and remolding the texture of the freckly flesh at even the slightest prod from a fingertip.
Angelina alternately hefted her boobs, one loosely balanced across each hand again, though her palms and fingers were quickly covered up by doughy skin drooping over their respective appendages like pale mushroom heads. One up and one down at a time, the woman bobbed her blimpy mammaries, until even without squeezing the ducts, milk started spritzing from the openings from all the activity. The group of four, still bound in their chairs, did their utmost to turn their heads, keeping their tiny lips sealed shut, while a white sprinkle of haphazard milk droplets rained upon them from Angelina’s sashaying tits. Despite their efforts, each participant received several splashes across the face, which soaked into their noses and mouths, costing them each another inch or two.
“That should do,” the woman said, and without further fanfare, her hand struck out for John like a viper. In one swipe, she cut through the tatters of his clothes, already softened by the milk, and held his miniaturized form upside-down in her fist. Getting ahold of himself, John started pleading anew while he was inserted feet-first into the underside of Angelina’s cleavage, though the blood quickly rushed to his head and made it hard to shout. The application of his shrunken body between her tits was made even easier by the ample supply of underboob sweat flowing beneath, and in another second, all anyone could see of John was his flushed, milk-splattered, tear-stained little head poking out from the bottom of Angelina’s naked rack.
While fixing John in place, the giantess’s free hand tweaked her nipple and sprayed a focused stream of her motherly cream into the wine-bowl, turning it a sickly magenta hue as the mixture swirled, until it was more milk than wine.
“P-Please, you… you don’t h-have to do this. W-We can all play ball,” John wailed. “All of us can w-work for you, do whatever you w-want. Just… just…”
“Save your air, John. You’ll need it for the last question,” Angelina warned. She braced herself against the table again, hunching slightly and allowing her baggy breasts to wilt so low they almost dunked into the drink. John’s head, poked from the basin of her cleavage while the rest of him was clamped and numbed in a tight swaddle of ruddy boob skin, hovered just an inch over the liquid abyss.
“Okay,” he relented, a crack in his voice.
“Why are you… not everyone else, just you… the best choice to become my puppet? Oh, and please do be quick, because… no offense to you all… I’m getting pretty sick of having so many of you still alive.”
“I’ll give you full access to the offshore accounts!” John’s little voice sang from under the oppressive, greasy weight of Angelina’s megaton tits. He could barely squeeze the words out, while her breasts compounded him into a pancake, but with shrill determination, he eked out: “I’ll… make you the top member of the board! And-”
“Sorry, toots, but that’s not what I wanted to hear,” Angelina said, and lowered herself another inch, thereby submerging John’s head in the milk-wine. Soon his cries turned only to frantic bubbles from below the surface. His peers watched, nauseated and tearful, as the surface of the liquid suddenly went still. “If I wanted to work, I certainly wouldn’t need any of you four. That’s what your whole life is going to become, whichever of you is the lucky winner. You work for me now. But I don’t think John has caught onto that fact, even now: the big man who could never dream of anyone, certainly not a woman, working above him. And for that reason, I’m withdrawing your name from consideration for this position, John. Thank you for applying.”