The jingle of the doorbell brought Kimberly back to the world of the living. She sat up on her elbows and looked around the room, her mind piecing together where she was, reconstructing the events leading up to her loss of consciousness. Her panties and the bed sheets were still soaked in her juices. She couldn't have been asleep for long.

She noticed the floss on the bed. Andy. She touched the base of her throat. She had been swishing him around in her mouth when she climaxed. She didn't swallow him, did she? No. She vividly remembered spitting him out.

The doorbell rang again. Kimberly pulled her khaki shorts on and looked around the bed. "Andy!" she whispered. He could be nearby, and she didn't want to deafen him with her big voice. She checked the creases in the sheets, under the pillows, under her hips and thighs. Where was he?

An insistent knocking came from the front door. "Kimberly!" a woman's voice called out.

She scooted to the edge of the bed and lowered her feet to the floor, trying not to touch anything she hadn't inspected first. She moved slowly towards the hallway, eyes scanning every surface Andy could be standing on.

The voice amplifier, nothing more than a speck to her, lay on her black leather Bible next to the bed. Without it, Andy had no voice. He was all but invisible at his size. He could be right next to her, but if she didn't see him, she couldn't find him.

More knocking. "Kim, it's your mother!"

Uh-oh, she thought. She moved into the hallway. "Coming!" she called down from the top of stairs. She looked down at her tight, revealing top. If her mom saw her dressed like this, she would throw a fit. She ran back to the closet in the guest room and pulled a T-shirt over the cut-off blouse. She glanced at herself in the mirror to make sure she looked at least half-decent. It would do.

"Coming!" she called out as she pounded down the stairs. As soon as I get rid of her, I'll look for Andy, she promised to herself.

Andy was jostled awake. He tried to move, but his limbs felt like they were tied down. He could only move his neck and head. Whatever he was tied to, it was moving fast.

He opened his eyes, and he was welcomed mostly by darkness but for a flexible, narrow strip of indistinct light that ran vertically across his field of vision. "Where am I?" he said. His mind was still foggy from experiencing Kimberly's mouth. She must have swallowed me after all, he thought ambivalently. This sure was different from what he expected.

The strip of light suddenly intensified.

Kimberly opened the front door. "Hi, Momma." She looked down at her little brother. They were both dressed for church. "Hey, Brandon. Where's Dad?"

"He had a meeting," Trina said. "We haven't seen much of you this week, so we decided to stop by on our way home, maybe take you out to lunch." She glanced disapprovingly at her daughter's shorts, which left a lot of her long legs uncovered. "Sleeping in late for a Sunday, aren't we?"

In all honesty, Kimberly had forgotten it was Sunday. "It was a long night," she didn't lie. "Mr. Speed finally stopped shrinking."

"How small did he get?" Brandon asked excitedly.

Kimberly held her fingers apart. "About 1.2 inches tall."

"Cool! Can I see?"

"No, Brandon," Trina said. "Mr. Speed probably wants to rest."

Andy tilted his chin towards his chest. The muscles in his neck told him he was hanging upside down. He heard his blood pumping in his ears. He was under some kind of pale cloth, which filtered the light. He could make out shapes and shadows beyond the cloth.

I must be in Kimberly's purse, he thought. That would explain the narrow slit of light above him. Thoughtful as always, she had kept her purse zipped open so he could see out, but also draped a towel or napkin over the opening so no one could see in.

But why am I naked? he thought. She should have dressed me before leaving the house. And what am I stuck to? I feel like a fly caught in flypaper. And why is my heart pounding?

"I don't suppose you want to go out to lunch with us," Trina said.

"I really should stay here with Mr. Speed," Kimberly replied, affecting remorse.

"What if we came inside and whipped something up in the kitchen? If Mr. Speed's asleep, he shouldn't mind, right?"

It wasn't the first time Trina outwitted her daughter. Seeing no alternative, Kimberly grudgingly held the door open, letting her mother and brother into the house. She looked up the stairs on her way to the kitchen. Andy was somewhere up there, all alone. Maybe he was fine, or maybe he needed her. For the past week she had known exactly where he was at all times. Not knowing where he was left her with an empty feeling. I'll be there soon, she thought.

The light dimmed, and Andy heard a door close. Kimberly was indoors somewhere. He heard muffled voices, one voice in particular louder than the others. His world swayed gently, then quaked to a halt, as he assumed Kimberly was setting her purse down somewhere.

At last he peeled his arm free. He held it in front of his face and sniffed. It smelled like mint. His arm hair was matted to his skin. Some kind of liquid adhesive had crystallized all over his body. "What the hell?" he said. He ran his fingers through his stiff, matted hair.

He touched the surface he was stuck to. It was warm and firm, covered in short, downy hair. He looked up towards his legs, noticed another light source far above him. He was in a narrow tunnel with peach-colored walls.

"You've got to be kidding," he said, looking at his surroundings with a new appreciation. The cloth canopy was Kimberly's shirt. The slit of light was the gap between her colossal breasts. The tunnel above him was the deepest part of her cleavage. The palpitations of his heart was really the beating of Kimberly's humongous heart behind her sternum. He was stuck to her chest, INSIDE her bosom.

Kimberly and Brandon sat at the dining table and waited for Trina to serve them lunch. She was at home in any kitchen and worked quickly.

"What is this on the floor?" Trina said. Kimberly jumped up to her feet to look, thinking possibly Andy had made it all the way to the kitchen on his own. But her mother had merely found the spot where they had spilled vegetable oil yesterday.

"Grease spill," she said dejectedly, sitting back down. She really missed her boyfriend.

"Hm," Trina intoned. She served their sandwiches, led the family in prayer, and they ate.

Andy made a racket in Kimberly's roomy bosom. He shouted at the top of his lungs and banged his fist on her chest. It was no use. He was so insignificant, she couldn't hear him, couldn't even feel him.

He peeled his other arm free and pushed against Kimberly's chest to break the saliva adhesive that held him in place. It was like ripping off a poster-sized Band-Aid. His efforts were too successful, as his back separated from her skin, and his legs became the only points of contact between himself and her chest. He fell head first through her cleavage, into deeper darkness. He rolled onto a stiff, concave surface and slammed against a softer, but no less solid, wall. He was on the built-in bra band of her cut-off blouse, under the left edge of her round right breast.

Kimberly didn't have much of an appetite, but ate anyway to keep up appearances. She sleepwalked through conversation with her mother and brother, preoccupied with finding Andy and praying that he was okay.

She couldn't take it anymore. She stood up abruptly. "I should check on Mr. Speed, see if he needs anything."

"Okay. Let me put away these dishes and we'll go," Trina said. Kimberly watched her antsily, then decided to help clean up. She would do anything if it got them to leave sooner rather than later.

Andy didn't stand much of a chance against Kimberly's mighty breast. As her body rose, it surged forward into her top, opening a small gap that he sank into up to his waist. When she straightened her back, it rolled on top of him.

He sucked in air as her breast weight came down on his legs above the knees. Tendons popped; bones creaked and shifted. Somehow, his legs didn't deform completely. They held up under the pressure. The pain was shocking, and he had to remind himself to breathe. He pushed and punched against her underboob, but of course it didn't budge. It was too massive, too pliable for him to have any effect on it.

Relief came less than a minute later as Kimberly reached for a clean dish out of the dish strainer. Again, gravity elevated her breast a fraction of an inch off her inverted chest, freeing Andy's delicate body. He pulled himself using only his arms to the middle of the bra band, dragging his benumbed legs behind him. A split second later Kimberly's right breast settled back with a doughy crash.

I bet Kim doesn't even know I'm in here. She's lost me, he thought. And she wasn't going to find him because he was in the last place she would look. Later she would give him up for dead, step into the shower, and wash the bloody entrails that were his remains off her breasts. She would think she was on her period as he washed down the drain.

"Bye, Kim. Don't be a stranger. Tell Mr. Speed our offer to have him over for dinner still stands," Trina said, as she and Brandon were leaving.

"I will," Kimberly said, shutting the door behind them. Finally! she thought. She sprinted upstairs. She slowed down outside the guest bedroom and hesitantly took a step inside. Unsurprisingly, everything was just as she left it.

"Andy, if you can hear me, move towards the door," she said, loudly and clearly. She waited a few minutes, standing stock still, eyes continually running over the floor. She bunched her toes on the carpet. Could he even walk on carpet? she wondered.

"Check your top," Andy groused, rubbing the feeling back into his legs.

Kimberly turned the guest room upside down. First thing she did was to shake out the comforter, sheets, and pillow cases. Then she checked under the bed and searched every square inch of the floor. Then she pulled the dresser and the nightstand away from the walls. Andy was nowhere to be found.

After an hour's fruitless search, she was in panic mode. She started to wonder how long Andy could survive on his own. It only took a day or so to die from dehydration. If he could crawl across the carpet, he would try for the bathroom, where a single stray drop of water from the shower was enough to last him for days, long enough for him to regain a few inches.

She went out into the hallway. It was a 6-foot walk to the bathroom, longer than a soccer field to Andy. It would seem even longer than that if he was hurt, or if traversing the carpet was like wading waist deep in cat hair.

She turned red as she remembered tramping through this hallway twice since she realized he was missing. She checked the bottom of her feet. No sign of him, but that meant nothing. She could have grinded him into the carpet.

She searched the hallway floor on her hands and knees. It would be better to find him dead than to not find him at all, she thought bitterly. Tears clouded her vision. She was in deep trouble, and she needed help.

She called Brooke on her cell phone. "Having fun?" Brooke answered.

"I lost him, Brooke! I have no idea where he is!"

"Hold on." Kimberly waited while Brooke found a quiet corner in the ice cream shop. "When did you last see him?"

"About 2 hours ago, I think. We were… in bed, in the guest room, and I fell asleep. My family came over and I had to humor them while they stayed and ate lunch. Brooke, I looked everywhere! I don't know what to do."

"Where did you look?"

"In the guest room and the hallway."

"Did you check the bed, under the sheets?"

"That was the first place I looked."

"What about his crib?"

Kimberly paused. How could she have forgotten about the crib?

"Hold on." She tiptoed into the guest room and searched the crib. She pulled away the sheets and lifted the small, thin mattress. No Andy.

The last bit of hope in her, rekindled so briefly, died. "He's not here!" she wailed.

"What about your hair?"

She went to the bathroom and searched her chestnut brown locks in the mirror. She shook her head until her neck hurt, in the vain hope her 40 year-old, 1.21-inch boyfriend would fall out.

"Brooke, I need your help. Can you get off work and come home?"

"Did you look in your clothes?"

"You mean in the closet? No, why would he—"

"The clothes you're wearing, Kim."

Kimberly was silent. The first thing she did when she woke up was pull on her shorts. Could he be…?

She unbuttoned her shorts and slid them off her legs. She checked the crotch and the pockets, then removed her still wet panties. She poked her fingers in her tender vagina, in her butt crack.

"Well?" Brooke asked.

"Wait a minute." She took off her T-shirt, turned it inside out. She pulled the cut-off blouse up over her head. 

Andy detected the change in lighting when her T-shirt came off. There was one less barrier between him and the open air. Then the elastic band he was on started to stretch and move. He sunk his fingers into the plaid, polyester blouse and hung on as he was flipped down and out into the harsh light of the bathroom. He ascended past her teardrop-shaped breasts, which jumped for joy at being freed from the cleavage-enhancing top. Ropey strands of chestnut-colored hair cascaded around him as he was lifted up over her head and arms. Then, a sight for sore eyes and an even sorer body: Kimberly's beautiful, compassionate face.

"Andy!" she cried, tears of elation flowing down her cheeks.

"You found him?! Where was he?" Brooke's tinny voice blared from the cell phone.

"In my blouse."

She laughed. "See? Playing in your boobs again, I'm sure. Such a guy. Okay, I gotta get back to work before Eric notices I'm gone. Love ya." She hung up.

Kimberly set her phone down. Forgetting her state of undress, she cupped Andy in both hands like he was made of glass and carried him to the guest room. She urged him to walk off her palm onto the nightstand, but he just reclined on his back, looking up at her.

She scooped up the voice amplifier on her fingernail and offered it to him. He nodded gratefully and put it in his ear.

"Can you hear me? Are you all right?" His magnified voice, full of concern—for HER—caused a new spate of tears to flow down her cheeks.

"I'm fine. Are you okay?" she asked.

"I've been better. I can't move my legs. Your boobs almost crushed me."

She cupped her right breast self-consciously. "I'm so sorry, Andy. How did you get in there?"

"I dunno. I was in your mouth and, next thing I know, I'm stuck to your chest."

"Covered in my spit, probably. Would you like to take a bath?"

He touched his crusty hair. "Yeah. I can't swim, though. We need to find something shallow enough for me to lie down in without drowning."

Kimberly looked down at her huge, naked body. "I have an idea."

She slid her panties on and got a cup of warm water and a fingernail of soap from the bathroom. She lay on her back on the bed and poured a small amount water over her flat, toned belly.

"In you go." She lifted him by the arms and lowered him butt first into her belly button. It was like sitting in an inner tube. Only his head and feet were out of the water that filled her navel. He took the soap from her and started to scrub himself clean.

She watched her miniscule boyfriend between her breasts, his bath rising and falling with her belly as she breathed. The stress of almost losing him receded into the background, leaving in its wake her heightened libido, all the more acute.

"What was it like, being in my mouth?" she asked.

"It was like you said. It was like… living or dying wasn't important anymore, and I was fine with whatever happened," he replied.

She bit her lower lip, remembering the thrill of feeling his tiny body squirming in her gullet. "Do you want to do it again?"

He rolled out of her belly button. He labored to push himself up onto his knees. "Not for awhile, Kim. I'm tired."

"Are you too tired to play with these?" She kneaded her massive breasts in her hands, rolling them in circles on the plateau of her chest. They rumbled like volcanoes, sending tremors through the surrounding terrain.

He chuckled. "It's not a question of motivation, Kim. My legs don't work."

She smiled slyly. She reached for the floss from their earlier mouthplay and tied one end around her stiffening left nipple.

"I don't believe that, Andy. Remember, you have a limited time at this size. My boobs will only get smaller from now on." She draped the floss over her bosom, letting it fall to her ribs.

Andy's heart raced at the sight of her lofty teat and the tacit challenge she had set before him. Seriously, was there a luckier guy on earth than him?

She licked her finger and smeared saliva over her hard nipple. "Prove your weakness, Andy. Prove to me you're physically unable to make love to the biggest boobs you've ever seen."

He crawled up her slick, warm belly while she urged him on with her teasing voice.

"Your little brain thought my gigantic boobs crippled you, but your other little brain has a different opinion. I wonder which one is right. I guess we'll see."

He arrived at the base of her prodigious left breast. He grabbed the floss and tried pulling himself up using only his arms. Not even halfway up, his hands gave out and he fell back down to her chest.

"Aw, you're not going to let my 600-ton boobs get the better of you twice in one day, are you?"

Six hundred tons, he thought, shaking his head. Three hundred tons apiece. Where did she come up with that? His crazy daughter, probably.

He grabbed the floss again and planted his aching feet on her soft underboob, and he was standing perpindicular to its vertical face. Step by step, he scaled her sheer breast.

"That's it, Andy," she purred. "Your legs are working. See what miraculous healing you're capable of? That's what my giant, sexy boobs can do for a little man like you."

"You have divine powers, my goddess," Andy said breathlessly, playing along. Her beige nipple rose above the curve of her breast. He crawled up to it and stood on his knees on her firm areola. The nipple rose to the level of his chin and was thicker around than him. He untied the knot and tossed the floss off her breast, somewhere down into her deep cleavage.

He wrapped his arms and legs around her nipple. His body left impressions on its peachy surface. He stared down the eye of her milk duct. He stuck his tongue inside. She tasted sweet. He wondered if it was possible for her to produce milk for him. The notion made him very hard.

She shuddered at his delicate touch. He felt softer than a feather. "Your goddess gives you permission to make love to her," she said.

So he did. He humped her teat like a puppy, and within a minute his testicles dumped their contents onto her child-sized nub, leaving behind a white, filmy glaze. He collapsed onto his back, his bodyweight not even denting her pillowy flesh.

Kimberly didn't wait for him to catch his breath. Her fingertip grazed his ear, knocking out the voice amplifier.

"Okay, little man. You've had your fun. Now I'll have mine." She picked his tiny body up and unceremoniously popped him in her mouth. Sucking him inside her cheek, she went to town on her primed, wet pussy.