Giantess World
Angelina gathered her boulder-sized breasts in both hands again, sifting them apart until John’s now two-inch-tall prone body slid out of the sweaty crevice between them, plunking unceremoniously into the alcoholic magic-milk lake, where he performed a dead man’s float across the top. With his face sunken in the liquid, he continued shrinking at a slower rate while liquid poured into his gullet and slowly weighed him down like an anchor.
“Don’t look so glum, everyone. It’s like you’ve all seen a ghost. Really, you should be thanking your stars. Suddenly each of your odds went up! Let’s see now, Monica? Your turn in the hot seat,” Angelina continued, charging straight on with the interview-stroke-interrogation in a breezy mood, despite having just offed John without batting an eye. She reached for the lady, slicing through her sopping-wet clothes and plucking the Monica out of the chair.
Angelina’s fist momentarily hovered below her cleavage again where she’d plugged John. She enjoyed Monica’s distraught howls for a moment before instead deciding to hold the tiny woman on the opposite side of the twin globes’ orbit, atop where the valley dipped. Even smaller than John had been, the sole female boardster squished into the slippery crevice without any resistance. From here, the giantess could witness Monica’s every fidget and squeal. Like her precursor, the miniature victim was asphyxiating in mushy blubbery tit flesh swelled like wet clay all around her, until there wasn’t even a micrometer to move in any direction, while her puny head alone still had partial access to air and a horrifying view of Angelina’s glowering billboard-sized smirk above.
“Crunch time, Monica. What makes you the best candidate for this job? You’d be wise to learn from John’s mistakes, by the way.”
“I’m yours! Whenever you need me, 24/7, no matter what it is!” Monica peeped. With every word, she felt herself sinking deeper into the divide between Angelina’s monstrous bosom like quicksand, her neck vanishing, until only Monica’s face was visible. Writhing only sped up the process. “I’ll prioritize whatever you need at the company over my sleep, my family, my life! Please, Angelina, just-”
“Hmmm, you were doing all right there for a minute, sister, but you might be in trouble,” Angelina said. “There was just something about that last part I didn’t like, something the next candidate may improve upon. We’ll keep you in the running for now… still, consider this a probationary period until I determine if there’s a better choice. Until then…”
Smiling ear-to-ear, the middle-aged dark angel raised a hand, stuck out her thumb, and pressed her fingerpad squarely into Monica’s head. The woman’s screams were fully muted by just a single one of Angelina’s fingers. Twisting and jamming her down the rest of the way into the cleavage ravine, the shrunken creature disappeared. This left Monica, if she wasn’t crushed outright from the pressure, swimming in the high-temperature flab-vortex where Angelina’s planetary breasts were ground most firmly together, sealing out all hope of air, light, or sustained existence.
“Remember, this is the lightning round, so choose your words carefully. Bob?” Angelina said, repeating the same swift ritual as the others that left the chubby boozer naked in her hand. After considering her options, and chuckling at the bug-eyed frenzy in Bob’s cartoonish face, the giantess chose not to stuff him into her cleavage from either the base or the top, but instead held him right over the center of her tremendous left breast, putting him face-to-areola with her nipple. “Grab hold right now, Bob, or we’re going to see how long you can hold your breath in the swimming pool down there.”
Uncoordinated and out of shape, Bob nevertheless obeyed, taking shaky hold of the tan flesh-knob before him. Angelina’s erect nipple was the only foothold stamped upon the otherwise blank expanse of sun-averse flesh nearly as milky as the beverage primed inside, if not for the freckles and age-marks. Right after Angelina let go, leaving the man dangled off her teat like an oversized ornament, he started to spasm, almost immediately slipping off the damp flesh, but just managed to cling on. To emphasize the consequences of his almost-inevitable failure, Angelina held the bowl right under the doll-sized man. Though Bob had shrunk the least of the group, there was no doubt in his mind or the giantess’s that if he fell, it wouldn’t take much more than a probing finger to push him down to drown in the milk-spiked wine.
“This is for all the marbles, Bob. What can you offer me, as an employee, that’s even better than all the promises and groveling Monica just made? You have until you fall into the bowl to decide,” Angelina said. For her own entertainment, she started flicking at the shrunken man’s legs, watching him strain and huff just to keep hanging onto the sturdy summit of her nipple. “Clock’s ticking now.”
“I’LL DO ANYTHING!” Bob squeaked. As he frantically cried, his violent grip caused more milk to spurt from the duct and coat him all over again. “I’ll give it all up! M-My money, my life, my family! Nothing is mine now! I live only for you now! Only for you! Whenever you want, whatever you want, even if it… kills me in the end.”
“Bingo,” Angelina stated in a prayerful slur. She smiled, shaking her head at the little man hanging for dear short life onto the colossal breasts he’d so unfortunately failed to ogle several years before. “I underestimated you, Bob, and the depths you were prepared to sink to. I guess it was only you, the dumbest little cretin on the senior board if not in the whole company, who could see things clearly enough to know what it’s going to take to work for me. It’s going to take everything. Which I suppose means, Arthur? No disrespect to the elderly, leaving you out of the second interview like this, but for one thing, you’re so small that it was going to be a real pain just trying to hear you, plus I doubt those old lungs have finished coughing up enough milk to give me a good answer anyway. So, I’ll just see you out.”
Lofting her breast in both hands, the same blanched, sweaty, ever-molding sphere upon which Bob still hung, Angelina positioned her heavily augmented sac of flesh and milk right over the puddle of white where a plastic chair, strings, and the three-inch old man were piled. Though barely conscious, Arthur became cogent just long enough to notice the shadow cast over him like an eclipse, even in the dimly-lit execution chamber of their hostess’s dining room. The last bit of recognizable humanity he saw was Angelina’s victory grin and a sultry wink, both of which were soon covered by the all-encompassing mass of that breast, supported only by the woman’s cupped hands, which slowly parted, until there was nothing between the shrunken geezer and that behemoth udder. There was a slump like the fall of a guillotine blade, followed by a moist crack somewhere beneath the humongous blob as Arthur permanently exited the interrogation.
In almost the same stroke, when Angelina’s tit descended and turned its thumb-sized mark into a red splat, the embrace of her cleavage opened and Monica came tumbling out. Head-over-heels she spun, bouncing off the jellied walls of the inner breast flanks before cannonballing into the bowl. Monica, soaked pink from wine and milk, surfaced with plenty of time to clamber out of the brew, but Angelina was too quick, peeling her murderous breast off the crimson roadkill stain that used to be Arthur, and instead fitting her bulging chesticle right over the rim of the bowl, trapping the little woman inside with the swirling miasma. Whether it was guzzled milk-wine that killed Monica via infinite shrinking, or the meteoric weight of her breast making berth that crushed the little woman to pulp, Angelina didn’t know, and didn’t especially care either way.
“The most important part of having me as your superior, Bob, which you were wise enough to point out…” Angelina sighed, graciously swiping the little fellow in her fist again to relieve him from cliff-hanging duty. Her nipple, crusted over with goosebumps from arousal and weeping lactation, quivered when Bob let go. As she lifted the traumatized lackey above the horizon of her breasts, the giantess shoved him into her bosom, to be worn like a living badge of her victory. “…this arrangement will last precisely up to the point that you are capable of being useful to me. Beyond that, I expect things will go in… a new direction. One where I don’t even need puppets to do my bidding, because I’ve got enough capital to buy and sell anyone who gets in my way ten times over. But until then, let’s see a smile on that little face! You’re working for the most powerful figure in the industry now, after all. That has to count for something, even if it doesn’t last forever. Then again, nothing good ever does.”