Carl gasped, lurching his way back into consciousness. Blaring white light above his head momentarily blinded him, and he clenched his eyes shut. Disoriented, he realized he wasn’t waking up from a reposed sleep, but was already sitting up in an undersized chair. What’s more, he couldn’t move his arms or legs. He grunted. Try as he might to wrench his hands free, they were bound tightly behind his back by taut rubber cords. His ankles were the same. The man blinked, opening his eyes again, and tried in vain to make sense of what he saw, but his surroundings were no more logical than the momentary darkness of pretending he was still asleep.

He was completely naked; Carl noticed that next. His bindings extended around his whole body at three points over his chest, stomach, and calves. Fearful as it made him to admit it, this was looking increasingly like a kidnapping scenario. Such a thing was well within the realm of possibility for a businessman and tycoon of Carl’s impressive stature, but it came as such a surprise now, he found himself totally unprepared to handle it.

But he had to start somewhere. Spreading his knees as far apart as he could manage, the man noticed his seat was cotton-candy pink-colored, and judging by the discomfort in his rear end, made of plastic. Like some novelty oversized Barbie chair. This, combined with the fact that he was being imprisoned, should’ve been enough to worry Carl for the time being, but just then his attention shifted to something far more troubling.

Despite his discombobulation when first waking, he hadn’t been taken to some remote location, as he would’ve assumed. Instead, he realized he was right in his own lavishly decorated dining room, which still bore much of the expensive design that his bitch of an ex-wife had obsessed over for several years. Specifically, he and this chair were planted right on the mahogany dining table. The main reason Carl hadn’t recognized his surroundings at first was because the place, while admittedly spacious to begin with, had transformed into a staggeringly expansive hall, the table included. This was no optical illusion, though, no matter how hard Carl tried to squint through the blinding chandelier glow. The room was humongous or, as the man uncomfortably processed, he had become smaller.

Much smaller. Carl was starting to think this chair wasn’t so oversized after all. In fact, it was undersized for a roughly twelve-inch-tall human being who’d been shrunken beyond all biochemical rationale.

Then recollections began creeping back in. The man was so thrown off by his nakedness and miniaturization, he’d momentarily forgotten the previous hours, but it all returned at once. Arriving home from an average day at the office high-rise, he was irked to find his ex-wife Angelina’s car parked out front. She’d let herself in, even though Carl changed the locks, but before he could unload his latest witty insults, he noticed something very different about the ice queen, or rather, two things.

Despite Angelina’s slender frame, she’d surgically augmented her bosom to hulking proportions. Bulbous, jiggly, milky flesh practically spilled out of her top from the moment she came near. Carl wanted to send her packing, but the woman was flirting so desperately, which obviously made her the “loser” in a hypothetical rebound, he shrugged off the minor hit to his dignity in favor of a chance at those magnificent, meaty bags attached to his ex. Carl had always been a tit-man; he did, however, have to admit someone of Angelina’s thin shape looked a little strange with such enormous breasts. Luckily, that wouldn’t matter in the dark, once he was smothered between her boobs. Thirty minutes later, they’d each downed two glasses of wine and then adjourned upstairs for a roll in the hay, and Carl didn’t regret anything.

Until now, at least.

The blinding chandelier switched off, but there was still light in the room, provided by flickering candles dotted around the shelves and counters. Squirming harder than ever, but still finding his resistance pointless, Carl looked up, just as a towering female figure traipsed through the entryway. It was Angelina, of course, though it took a second for her ex-husband to clock her identity, owing to her formal black dress with its ghostly sheer sleeves and plunging neckline, as well as the fact that, by comparison to the newly doll-sized Carl, Angelina stood in excess of thirty feet tall.

“Oh, wonderful. You’re awake, darling,” Angelina announced. “Good. We have a lot to discuss.”

Speechless, Carl tried to channel his bewilderment into a demand for answers, but was caught so off-guard by his ex-wife’s appearance and sly smile, he was left sputtering. Most distracting were Angelina’s beach ball-like mammaries, which were all but busting through the seams of her skin-hugging dress. It was good the cut of the garment was so low, or those things surely would’ve broken free. Each step Angelina took closer to the table caused them to quake, vibrating and rebounding off one another at the tight fault line of her cleavage. Carl was almost certain her chest had grown even bigger since last night, though that could’ve been due to the fact that he was looking at a house-sized leviathan of a woman. It was tough for him to choose between focusing on his furious confusion or the probable fact that, given his new height, he could be one hundred percent submerged beneath just one of those pale, jiggly sacs the size of a boulder.

“Angelina, what the hell is going on? How did I get like this? What are you…” Carl scowled, but lost his train of thought once his ex reached the table.

Angelina leaned forward across the glossy surface, bracing herself up by long manicured fingers. Her sweeping black hair hung in a rich canopy around her severe yet hypnotically alluring features, and her smile had curved into a more sinister shape than ever. Most notable of all, though, was the phenomenon of her breasts rolling forward another few inches out the V-cut of her dress, revealing yet more thick, veiny flesh. Her mammoth tits were at the full mercy of gravity now, sagging lower the farther across the table she leaned, until the beautiful, haunting giantess was hunched directly over Carl. Inch by inch, she came nearer, until the hanging valley of Angelina’s baggy boobs menaced her ex-husband like a hungry vertical mouth.

“I’m sorry, what was that you were saying?” Angelina purred. A semi-drunken snicker rumbled in her throat. The woman brushed her hair out of her eyes and over her ear, but when she lowered her hand again, it didn’t slap back to the tabletop, instead hovering over Carl’s body, which he only realized now was held down by none other than rubber bands. Delicately, Angelina waved her svelte digits as though tickling piano keys, threatening to brush her pointed fingernails along Carl’s nakedness. He flinched, doing his best to worm backwards, but found himself powerless to get away.

“I… I was saying… no, I was telling… you’re going to explain yourself to me, right now. Seriously, what the hell was in those drinks? What are you playing at here?” Carl seethed. He had trouble keeping his composure, as his gaze kept instinctively flitting between his ex-spouse’s chocolate-brown irises above and her tempting fingertips coming so close to grazing him. His whole body winced when Angelina pressed her thumbpad against his chest, not out of pain, but with tactile confirmation of reality that he was, indeed, very tiny and hogtied in the clutches of the world’s most conniving gold digger.

“I expected you to react like this. Whining, complaining, throwing a fit when you’re finally faced with a problem you can’t just order your way out of,” Angelina said at her leisure, obviously not concerned with directly addressing the questions. Her finger stroked its way down Carl’s chest to his abdomen in a serpentine pattern that bordered on soothing. Even titillating. “But I have to say, this is still more entertaining than I could’ve possibly hoped for. It’s really something, you know, seeing you so small and vulnerable like this. I’m sure a lot of your employees wouldn’t mind the view either. Perhaps I should consider filming this and selling the footage.”

“What?”

“Don’t pretend you can’t see the possibilities here. You, so exposed and helpless. Me, so photogenic and knowledgeable in all the most amusing ways to play with you. For example…” Angelina drawled.

Her thumb darted between Carl’s thighs, which she caressed, before ladling her spiraled thumbpad right under her husband’s shrunken shaft. The man trembled again, but it was nothing compared to the jump he received when his uninvited guest’s index finger snapped down on the opposite side of his dick like a mouse trap, instantly pinching his manhood between a pair of fingers which pathetically dwarfed his inch-long instrument. Angelina giggled, rubbing his dick between her smooth fingertips, but adding pressure again just as quickly and clamping so hard and fast that all the air exited Carl’s lungs in a piteous wheeze. The whole time, her immense boobs remained in luminous orbit over the victim.

“See? Just like that,” she whispered.

For a few more seconds, Carl writhed back and forth, not quite in agony but certainly far more uncomfortable than he’d been mere hours before during his ill-advised sexual romp. Angelina obviously savored the power she held over him; there was a joyful glint in her eye Carl hadn’t seen in years, if ever, while she manhandled him with the ease of flicking a cock-shaped light switch.

“Let… go… of… me!” he huffed. Despite the stinging of his ex’s squeezed fingers, there was unfortunately just a twinge of pleasure activated as well, thanks to the muscle memory of their recent triste. Though Carl hated to admit it, Angelina knew his body well enough to inflict an exquisite orgasm, but accordingly, she also knew how to push him well over the edge into aching. Such as right now.

“All right, I suppose we’ll be here all night if I don’t stop toying with you eventually and get down to business, though I assure you there will still be plenty of time to fuck with you later, depending on how cooperative you choose to be with me,” Angelina relented.

She released Carl’s penis from between her fingers, causing him to exhale in relief. Her hand retracted, though the rest of her body loomed just as large and in-charge as before. Those dangling white balloons of her tits were so close, Carl could’ve leaned forward and jammed his head right into the gelatinous chasm between them, if not for the rubber bands.

“I’ll make this simple for you, dear. As you always say, time is money,” Angelina sighed. She withdrew at last from the table, arching back to her full intimidating height. However, as she straightened up, she took hold of the pink chair leg in her coiled fingers and slowly dragged her husband from the center of the surface closer to the edge. Carl did his best to wrench away, but only succeeded in tipping the Barbie seat backward so far he should’ve fallen, if his ex-wife’s hand wasn’t in total control of the toy furniture, and him along with it.

“Okay, listen closely now. This can be as easy or as hard as you’d like to make it, dear. The choice is entirely up to you, and you should be grateful for that, because not much else is going to be up to you tonight,” Angelina said. “I can’t believe it’s necessary to say this to you at all, but seeing how easily you were willing to jump back in bed with me thinking all was forgiven, here’s your refresher course: Your big expensive lawyers left me dirt in the divorce. I barely had enough to get myself a decent apartment after you kicked me out. Really, this whole fortune, and you couldn’t spare just enough for me to live comfortably? Me, the woman who gave up the best years of her life for you? Somehow or other you got the judge on your side, too, even though it was you fooling around with that Hooters girl on the nights I worked late.”

Carl squirmed. It was typical of his ex to paint him as the villain in this scenario, but regardless of how she spun the facts, he could hear the vitriol spiking in her tone, which made him anxious, despite his best efforts. Still, his own blood pressure was rising as well.

“So I’m here tonight to get what’s coming to me, darling. No, I don’t mean that rather half-hearted fucking you graced me with before. I mean I plan to seize a more… sizable portion of your assets, more commensurate to the grief you put me through,” Angelina explained. “What’s more, you won’t be going anywhere, getting rid of me, nor changing back to normal again until my demands are met. So, Carl, what will it be? Will you be playing ball, or shall I have to get crafty?”

Red in the face, quivering with rage, Carl gritted his teeth. Then he opened his mouth.

“What’s coming to you? I’ll tell you what’s coming to you, Angelina. A world of hurt if you don’t reverse whatever the hell you did to me right now, that’s what. Do you have any idea who I am and what I’m capable of, or were you too busy all those years dumping my money down the drain for your ten-thousandth pair of shoes?” Carl spat, on a roll now. He leaned as far forward as he could, straining the bands. “Do you know how many threats I get in a year, just for being so goddamn good at my job? Do you have any CONCEPT of what I can do to people who cross me, especially desperate whores like you who don’t know how to quit while they’re ahead? You will get me off this fucking chair and back to normal, or I promise you, those expensive lawyers you hate so much will put you in a legal hole so deep you’ll never see the light of day again. And that’s if I don’t put you there MYSELF.”

Carl breathed heavily, now ramped into a frenzy, and in dire need of an outlet to let off steam, even though he was still a shrunken weakling bound to a doll accessory. He hunched, staring at the tabletop, and at last let his eye line drift upward along the ebony canvas of Angelina’s form-squeezing dress. He traced the narrow contour of her hips, up to the magnificent swell of her creamy, hefty cans still trying to sidle out of her dress’s neckline like prize cantaloupes. The man was startled by the lack of panic in Angelina’s countenance; normally when he reamed his board room like that, things fell right into line.

But not now. If anything, the giantess’s look of gothic glee had amped up to a state of near-euphoria. Her eyes bright, her lips curled in a full grin, Angelina bowed slightly over the tabletop again, bringing her massive chest to bear right above her ex-husband, though she kept them from touching him by supporting the weight with both hands. Then, gripping the fabric in her fingers, she began to pull back the veil on her left breast, slowly, all while keeping the increasingly visible globe of her flabby tit held aloft. Her brown, goosebump-stippled areola came into view, followed by the sharply erect nub of her nipple, and pointed directly at Carl’s head like artillery.

“So, I suppose we’ve chosen the hard way, then,” she said. “That works just fine for me.”

Angelina bobbed her chin down, thus submerging the lower half of her face in ashen breast meat. Puckering hard, she left a loud wet smack of a kiss on her boob as a signature, then promptly removed her hand from beneath the flank. Instantly, the floppy volume of her now-naked breast tumbled down, altering its shape like a malleable mountain of clay, and all of it converged on Carl below.

The little man yelped just as his ex-wife’s smooth, cellulite-ridden boob covered the entirety of his body and drowned out his sound. Her heartbeat pulsated like a freight train through the pulpy layers of lard and muscle. Though thick and solid as anything, it nevertheless practically oozed, molding to the awkward L-formation of the naked prisoner in his Barbie chair. Like a sandbag the size of a weather balloon, Angelina’s girth heavily pressurized her ex, holding him down and bringing him darkness and itching discomfort, even while these very same breasts had provided such kinky pleasures mere hours before. Carl’s struggles were even more in vain than when he fought against the rubber bands; while he could cause those to budge slightly before the tension snapped him back against the plastic, there was no combating Angelina’s humongous boob.

After a minute, the woman took a step back, gradually allowing her breast to roll off of Carl and plop in a mushy heap at the foot of the chair. It landed with a tremendous thud that nearly toppled the chair from the force of its wind. Carl shook his head, dizzy, warm, and a smidge numb from the encounter with that gargantuan breast. Once it finally rested there on the tabletop, looking like an overstuffed beanbag dotted with freckles and pre-emptive middle-age creases, Carl had the chance to resume his earlier cry, but he was rendered void of words once again. It took some serious doing to dry up the man’s clout, but this colossal bitch had managed to do it. Wild-eyed and nervous, he gazed up at his wife’s triumphant face above. She winked.

“All right, I think you can come in now,” she loudly beckoned, though without turning around. Angelina’s attention never abandoned the sad shrunken man before her, nor did she collect her pudgy nude breast back into its saddle yet, perhaps as some kind of warning of what she could do to him if he mouthed off again.

Carl frowned. Who was she talking to?

A man emerged from the shadows. Ordinarily Carl might have busied himself trying to recall where he’d seen the guy’s face, but the shrunken man was preoccupied by the fact that this younger stranger was wearing nothing but a white lab coat. The nearer the grinning nobody stepped into the light, the more of his willowy frame was highlighted by the candle glow. Then, at last, he stood right beside Angelina, and a sight even more unsettling than his half-nakedness became clear.

His cock, just as exposed as the rest of him, hung like a baguette. It was thicker than the man’s wrist, and once he cupped the enormous shaft in both hands, he released the mass of his cock on the table with a clatter that rivaled the avalanche of Angelina’s swollen teat-bag. Carl would’ve felt emasculated by the size of the stranger’s equipment, given his own miniaturized baby-carrot-sized package, if he wasn’t even more unnerved at the appearance of a second giant.

“What, you thought you were the only one allowed to have a little fling outside the marriage?” Angelina taunted. She casually flicked her ex-husband upside his dick, smiled at his pain, then at last stood fully back up, cradling her enormous breast along with her and tucking it partially back into its holster. “You went for the boozy D-cup college freshman slut who could barely spell her own name. I went for something a little better.”

Carl glanced back and forth from the face of his ex-spouse to her apparent secret lover.

“Say hello to Andy, dear. You should know him already, though I expect you don’t, but he’s the smartest man on your payroll. A few months ago, he was just a shy little bookworm working in your R&D department, but once I gave him a little push, he started putting his skillset to better use. Beginning by improving this delicious thing…”

As she spoke, Angelina began petting the man’s rod, gliding her fingers back and forth along its considerable length.

“…and eventually sharing his gifts with me,” she said.

“I admit, it was a bit… much to take in at first,” Angelina continued. “Perhaps I even felt like I’m sure you do now, until he confided in me a delightful little fantasy he’s had his whole life. It’s simple: the idea of a man shrinking by drinking a woman’s breastmilk. After that, I saw the full range of possibilities before us. I’d been waiting for the perfect way to give you everything you deserve, darling, everything. So, I had Andy perform a procedure on me and my girls. The results speak for themselves, I think. And the best part is, you haven’t even seen the real scientific breakthrough in action yet, since you were too busy passing out after you orgasmed. Typical. Now, though, I intend to give you a hearty second helping of the secret ingredient I included in your wine glass earlier, thus shrinking you down into the disgusting insect of a man I already know you to be, unless you give me precisely what I ask for.”

Bewildered, and still overwhelmed by the pair of titans before him with their even-more titanic privates, Carl shook his head. The diabolical resolve in his ex-wife’s voice was clear, but she wasn’t going to spook him with theatrics and rubber bands. He was a reasonable man. Carl knew his company had made a lot of advancements, but any sane person could say that human shrinkage wasn’t possible, let alone via the delivery system of human dairy product. No man, even this anonymous nerd with his horse cock, could do that.

“So, what do you say, dear?” Angelina sneered at Carl. She gave the mushroom-head of Andy’s serpent a squeeze that made the man tremble with arousal, then crossed her arms over her squishy voluminous chest. Her finger drew steady circles around her pepperoni-sized nipple pad, re-prickling the goosebumps and firming the tip until it was aimed right at Carl again. “The cards all on the table now. Are you ready to talk business?”

Taking a deep breath, Carl studied the faces of his aggressors. He hadn’t become ruler of an industrial empire by surrendering to every power grab. Smirking to himself, Carl slipped into the false pleasantry that had made every office underling his bitch.

“You’d like to talk business, hmm? As in, you’d like to make a deal? Okay then, I think I’m prepared to be reasonable. Here’s your deal: you bring me back to size right-fucking-now, or I’ll see you two are thrown in solitary confinement for the rest of your unnatural goddamn lives. This offer expires in ten fucking seconds.”

Angelina looked to Andy. The pair nodded, then shared a smile.

“That’s about how I expected you to answer, dear. You really haven’t changed, no matter how much time goes by, and how many people abandon you,” Angelina sighed. She uncrossed her arms, and cupped the prodigious slab of her pearlescent left breast in both hands, until it was wadded at the level of her chin. Her wrists shook slightly from the awkward strain of keeping the medicine ball-esque weight aloft, but she persisted. “Really, Carl, I can’t be angry with you, and neither can Andy. We’re much better people than you, after all, and are prepared to be understanding. Unfortunately, though, this tit of mine isn’t quite as sweet as us.”

Carl squirmed as he watched his wife gently lowering her exposed boob again. She made a show of hoisting the doughy underside with both hands, allowing the majority of her beefy glob to flop to its natural shape, until the eye of her nipple was staring Carl down like a suckling pig. Angelina hunched.

“And now you’ve made this big scary breast angry, my darling. It would so love to show you the error of your ways, and the only thing holding it back is me. So, perhaps you should reconsider your stance on working with us, now that I’ve made it clear just how badly I can fuck over your night if I so choose,” Angelina snarled. She affixed her thumb and index finger around the rim of her dark areola, occasionally pumping her digits on the bumpy flesh, but stopping just short of pinching the duct. “You’re going to give me access to your bank accounts, Carl. All of them, including the ones I know you have hidden overseas whenever you feel like skimming a few hundred grand off the top of the company. I’ll need passwords and any confirmation info, just so we don’t hit any snags. Feel free to start talking now, dear, so this tit of mine doesn’t get any madder.”

The scrawny geek beside her licked his lips. His donkey dick, still resting on the table a few inches away from Carl’s chair, twitched. Despite its humbling size and girth, the beast was only slightly activated courtesy of Angelina’s playful fingers, but the skin began to flush and visibly tighten as it reached half-mast.

“Go to hell, babe,” Carl declared with satisfaction he hadn’t known in all those years of hellish marriage.

“Suit yourself,” Angelina shrugged, and promptly squeezed her thumb and index together. Using the curved edges of her smoothly manicured fingernails, she pressurized the blanched flesh around her nipple until it stretched, turning the skin even more ghostly and emphasizing the colorful veins beneath the skin. A generous spurt of snow-white milk spat from the mouth of her ample udder.

Carl screamed as he was blasted with a stream of milk with the strength of a firehouse. While his mouth was involuntarily opened to protest, a healthy portion of warm discharge gushed over his lips. The rest of his torso was thoroughly soaked in creamy liquid. Milky steam rose from his skin, tingling his every remaining square inch. He choked and unsuccessfully gagged on the fluid that made its way into his throat. Perhaps worst of all, the flavor wasn’t wholly disgusting: rich and bubbly, almost like buttermilk or melted ice cream, yet pure white and even brighter in hue than Angelica’s own pallid breasts.

Then, in defiance of Carl’s bravado and logic, his bluff was called; his ex-wife’s milk was shrinking him. His skin sizzled, not actually burning, but still chemically reacting to the hot beverage dripping down his body. In no time, he was visibly diminishing among the rubber binds. The foot-tall man dwindled for an instant, jolting down another inch and then two, until he was appropriately sized for the Barbie chair. He shuddered at the sight which lay before him: the two giants looming above, and the rest of the room along with them, had dramatically increased in relative size over the course of several tortuous seconds. To Carl’s eyes, his wife now looked in the range of forty feet tall.

Carl grunted, doing his best to swallow the hyperventilation instinct, and tried to snake under the binds. No matter how hard he denied it, he had to accept the fact that he’d been shrunken before the eyes of himself and officially the two worst people on Earth. Unfortunately for Carl, his ex-spouse had wrapped the rubber bands so tight, he was still firmly ensnared, even with less of him to contain. The lubricant of the milk seeping stickily between the wrappings couldn’t help him wriggle out, either, and in fact only inflicted intense itching he had no way of scratching.

“You look like you just filmed a bukkake marathon, dear. Who’s the whore now?” Angelina joked. A few leftover pearl-white droplets unspooled from her duct, plopping heavily on Carl’s thrashing little head and causing him to seize up yet again. “Oh, I’m only kidding. Where’s that famous sense of humor that won you so many make-believe friends? Never mind, this is a business transaction, as I told you before. We’re making a deal. Now, if you haven’t noticed, you’re in a splash zone there, Carl. If you can’t get that precious little noggin of yours working well enough to tell me your passwords, then you’re going to get even wetter.”

“W-What is it you’re really after, Angelina? An apology?” Carl grimaced. “Listen, I… suppose I called you some names you didn’t deserve, but you can’t pretend like you were blameless in our marriage. You can’t put this all on me.”

“Oh, but I can, darling. Case in point…” Angelina murmured. She poised her fingers around the cusp of her nipple again, but this time sandwiched both hands into the sagging, pillowy mass of flesh that swelled outward from the business end of her tit.

Angelina cradled her boob like a pitcher, then proceeded to pinch her fingers and clap her hands together at once, simultaneously opening the plump spigot and pulsing a larger payload of milk toward the opening. At once, a burst of frothy milk spewed from her monumental can. This time, the creamy liquid was delivered not in a concentrated stream, but rather an explosive spray that indiscriminately soaked every remaining spot of Carl’s shrunken body that was spared during the last dosage.

“Whoooops, how clumsy of me!” Angelina sang. “Oh, well. It would be a terrible shame to waste it all. Come on now, dear. Drink up. You’ve got to have your medicine if you’re going to be able to think clearly, after all. So open wide and enjoy!”

In that single blast of rapidfire mother’s milk, the Barbie chair was knocked clean over. The doll-man couldn’t help but shriek again, foolishly allowing in another few mouthfuls of his ex-wife’s lactation to roll down his throat. As he was now lying down on the table, he was forced to choose between gulping down the damning fluid or drown via milk-boarding.

Without skipping a beat, Angelina leaned further down and re-angled her teat to ensure Carl received every last drop. Meanwhile, the rest of his body stewed in the potent chemical weapon that was Angelina’s milk, dripping from every angle and becoming gooier as the previous white tide congealed on his body, ensuring its shrinking effects were allowed to continue compressing him. Indeed, Carl was already visibly ticking down, and by even larger increments this time. A flash later, the hapless loudmouth was down to seven inches tall. Angelina’s breast still faithfully hovered over him like a fat blimp in the sky, allowing continual dollops of milk to drool out of her hardened nipple and plunk right on his lips and nose.

Andy was mesmerized. His cock already grossly dwarfed Carl after the shrinkage to ten inches, but by the combination of this latest spritz of warm dairy, and the scientist’s ever-stiffening cock, there was no competition now. If Andy’s member was a python, it could’ve surely swallowed Carl whole. The man couldn’t help but encourage his erect pole by stroking with both hands, though it was obvious Andy wasn’t yet fully used to his mega-sized hardware.

“H-Hey… t-this isn’t fair… when we split up, we both had our say in c-court, Angelina,” Carl sputtered. He coughed up the dregs of the milk, then blinked as much of it out of his eyes as he could muster, though plenty still sopped into his skull. “B-But you’re just taking advantage of me here. H-How do you expect me to… work with you, under these conditions? Make me big again, then I p-promise… we can work something out! D-Don’t all those years we spent together mean anything to you?”

“Awww… sounds like somebody’s going to an emotional place now. What, is it getting to be a bit much for you, little one?” Angelina cooed with uncharacteristic gentility, given her earlier callousness. The longer she spoke, the higher her pitch rose, even getting softer all the while. Still, she kept her formidable breast mass dangled right over Carl, ready to pump a fresh wave of milk at a moment’s notice from between her fingers. “I hope you don’t sound like this when you’re talking to your employees, or there would be no one left on Earth who respects you. All that babbling and stuttering, like some little boy who wet his pants during show-and-tell time at big-kid school. No, no, it’s all right, Carl. You’re naked as a newborn, you’re nice and comfy in your dolly chair, and you’re getting an all-you-can-drink buffet of yummy milk. Why shouldn’t you embrace it?”

“Aren’t you h-hearing me, Angelina?” Carl panted. His heart was railing in his chest, now terrified of another surge of his ex-wife’s disintegrating formula being produced from her chest. Judging by the eye-boggling scale of those two chubby, sallow tits, which only seemed to have inflated still bigger during this whole ordeal, there was plenty left in the tank with which to torment the little man.

“Yes, I’m hearing you, dear, it’s just not quite what I want to hear yet. Try again.”

“Okay, how about this! Y-You grow me back, and I swear, we will find a way to c-compromise!”

“Oops! There’s a no-no word, little fella. “Compromise” isn’t in my vocabulary tonight, and neither should it be in yours,” Angelina warned.

Carl flinched, but was not immediately smeared with another punishing round of buttery drink. Instead, Angelina lovingly released her grip on her left boob, then proceeded to peel back the sleek black fabric of her dress which still scarcely contained the opposite breast. The threads were being tested as it was, stretched between the wide separated valley of her cleavage, and popped free just in time to bring Angelina’s right breast out to play as well. Now half-naked herself, Angelina shimmied her hips, to show off the full range of jiggling motion for her twin set of blubbery, pasty boobs the size of airbags.

“Why don’t you get us both a drink, Andy?” Angelina coaxed, though her gaze never left her crumpling ex-husband. She winked again. “Just be sure it’s only wine in those glasses and not any of my milk. We wouldn’t want to deprive little Carl here, would we? No, no. We want him to have it all.”

Andy looked slightly dejected having to tear himself away from the site of his greatest fantasy, but he nodded, then took the enormous appendage of his hard-on in both hands and waddled to the bar in the adjoining room. While glasses clinked and libations were poured, Angelina leaned down lower over the table, and deepened her voice to a throaty curl, just for Carl’s tiny ears.

“Get it through your funny head, baby. There are no compromises. No negotiations here. Not anymore. Either you give me every last dime I’m after, or this will go even more poorly for you. Now, if I’m not mistaken, we’ve still got to put you in time-out for using the c-word, like a bad boy,” Angelina explained in her ga-ga tone. Taking hold of her right breast, still fully tanked with size-stealing elixir, she nudged the spiked nipple against Carl’s cheek. He moaned, rocking from side to side, but now too weak to even stagger the chair. Milk still dripped down his reclined body, so there was nowhere for him to go as Angelina’s tit took aim again from a millimeter away.

Only this time, the woman didn’t punch her palms into the flab for a dairy bomb, as Carl was expecting, but rather positioned her hands in a very precise manner. Then, she began to tweak her duct, but only gently, and strategically limited the stream of milk to a piddling consistency. It rewetted Carl’s squirming self, but kept the creamy outpouring on his face. Rather than treating her boob like a whoopee cushion, Angelina instead handled it with the expert craft of a baker squeezing cake frosting from a tube. The quiet assault carried on for far longer this time, and after close to a minute, she showed no signs of breaking.

“GOD, STOP THIS! P-PLEASE!” Carl roared. He took a deep breath to shout again, but his cheeks were filled with milk, as per usual, and opening his lips to spit up only succeeded in allowing in more warm droplets as replacement. The man hacked and sputtered as milk rained down.

“Hmm, what’s that, little one? Did you say something? Are you crying for your mommy?” Angelina coyly teased. “It’s difficult to hear you while you’re trying to talk with your mouth open, Carl! Didn’t anybody ever teach you it’s impolite to speak while you’re eating? Well, let this be a lesson to you now. Finish your yummy meal, then you can tell me what’s going on in that adorable head!”

She subtly redirected the flow of her nipple, painting her ex-husband’s whole body in the seemingly everlasting stream of maternal liquid, but quickly returned to dousing his face before he could gather his bearings again. White puddles formed around Carl’s body, dripping off every side of the chair in chalky cataracts, but the majority of the sweet nectar was absorbed into the little man himself, and accordingly robbing him of even more stature.

Andy hobbled back with two brimming glasses of red wine just in time to catch the tail-end of this latest trick from Angelina’s breasts. She’d sustained an unbroken stream for several minutes now, and if anything, the weeping current of milk had thickened. Carl was shrinking faster than ever now, but Angelina made no attempt to pause. Her ex passed below six inches, then five and four, then finally down to three. Only the middle layer rubber bands were still in use, and unlike when this grungy affair began, Carl now looked like a doll sitting in a chair made for an average human, rather than the other way around.

Angelina at last took a rest, if only because the wine had arrived, and let her saddlebag boobs hang freely again. She took a hard slurp from her glass, posing a fist on her hip and admiring her handiwork in the form of her finger-sized, milk-sopping, battle-ravaged ex-husband below still fighting for a clean breath not tainted by heavy cream. Andy had dropped his erection back on the edge of the table, but barely touched his own drink, to maintain his composure and memorize every sordid detail on the most erotic night of his life; he’d quickly returned to clumsily petting and maintaining his arousal.

The buxom mastermind polished off her overfilled wine glass, then set it down. When Andy made no move on his own, she began stealing sips from it as well. She wiped a sheen of glistening perspiration off her brow, then swept a similar layer out from the canyon between her bulging tits. A mischievous smile gleamed on Angelina’s lips the wider they spread, and it was clear she was now enjoying herself nearly as much as her horny new partner.

“Oh, my, would you just look at how much bigger this thing is than my poor greedy ex-husband?” Angelina giggled, tracing her fingers over Andy’s meaty shaft and then pinching her thumb and index apart for a size comparison with Carl. At best, the shrunken victim’s height matched only the width of his competition’s mast. “What I wouldn’t have given for this kind of instrument on little Carl here back when he was a big tall man. Can you imagine how much more fun we could’ve had, dear, if you were more well-endowed? And no, I’m not talking about your money. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently between us, if you were born with something more useful to me. Likewise, I could’ve returned the favor to you. These hands weren’t just made for drowning you in my milk, you know. Oh well… at least someone will get to enjoy the full extent of my talents.”

Angelina lapped the sticky flat of her tongue across her palm for moisture, then laid it down against the thickest portion of Andy’s fleshy pillar, causing him to intake air with desire. Her fingers curled as far around his member as they would fit. Then she proceeded to pump, using her spit as lubricant and guiding her clenched hand along the entire bar of his mutated penis. This required throwing her whole body into the motion, which the woman was only too pleased to do.

She violently jostled her floating tits the whole way, causing them to squishily clash together like jumbo water balloons each and every time she plunged her palm down Andy’s cock again. The man himself had to grip the edge of the table to keep from buckling under the combined luxuries of being masturbated and witnessing his greatest wishes come to life. When at last Andy reached orgasm thanks to Angelina’s dexterous fingers, as it was already so close from a protracted session of fantasy-fulfillment, he howled and stained the wall with a graffiti-quantity of his seed. Nevertheless, Angelina’s concentration was never broken from the fraction of a man she’d half-drowned and stranded on a pink plastic chair.

And Carl only wallowed, with gummy milk drying on his skin even now still causing him to shrivel closer to a speck of dust. The very-real threat of shrinking to nonexistence was consuming him. There was no more room to fool around here. Though he’d never taken his bitchy spouse seriously for the entirety of their relationship, he could see when he was outmatched. Granted, Carl fully intended to use every resource at his disposal to make Angelina and Andy pay just as soon as he was safely back to size. But, for now, he’d have to play possum, and live to fight another day.

“OKAY, ANGELINA!” he crowed. “Okay, you win, you win. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Whatever I have, is yours, just… don’t do this anymore. P-Please.”
However, his ex-wife was only partially listening, as she busied herself squirting breastmilk into her empty wine glass. A slight purple tint from the last dregs of alcohol were quickly overpowered by swirling dairy. She easily filled the glass close to the edge, then set it down on the table.

That was curious, Carl thought. It wasn’t like she or Andy would be stupid enough to drink from that, and why pour it, when she could just squirt him directly?

Still without answering his pleas, Angelina worked on freeing her ex-husband from the rubber binds. Her gigantic fingers felt so powerful, prying the tenuous cords away and plucking the bite-sized man out from under their thrall. She cradled the milky creature in her palm as she carried him closer to her. Carl watched the approach of her waxen monolithic tits with a newfound terrified respect, as they practically rivaled the size of Mount Rushmore now as far as he was concerned, and the rich liquid coursing within was even scarier.

“Let’s hear it then, darling,” Angelina said. “Cough up every number I’ll need, right here and right now, or you’re taking a little swim. Andy, honey, would you be so kind as to pull up the accounts?”

Carl trembled, peering over the side of the peachy platform that constituted his wife’s flattened digits. The milk in her used wine glass seemed to twist at will like a whirlpool. He didn’t need her to tell him twice; he was already prepared to give her everything and more, following that last extended stream.

Once the giant cuckold had the tablet set up, Carl rambled off every account number and password he could think of, including those Angelina probably didn’t even know about, just for good measure. Over twenty tense minutes, Carl’s ex-wife took control of his treasures one after another, and her mood was demonstrably improving. At last, when the financial reserves in his memory were exhausted, the shrunken man slumped to catch his breath.

Carl was defeated, and it stung like little else in life to know his assets were about to be drained, but surely not as badly as it would sting to shrink between the creamy molecules of his own ex-wife’s nipple discharge.

“We’ve got a green light on all of them,” Andy said.

“That’s everything?” Angelina asked.

“That’s everything,” Carl confirmed. “I swear. If you b-believe nothing else I’ve ever said to you, Angelina… believe that.”

“You know, darling, for once, I actually do! I really, truly do,” she sighed contently, puckering her lips and blowing her ex-husband a kiss, right before tipping her hand on its side, causing Carl to tumble head-over-heels toward the waiting glass mouth of the milk-filled wine glass. “And now, to show you my appreciation, baby, take a nice refreshing soak in the pool.”

Carl screeched all the way down, then splashed unceremoniously into the off-white depths. By standing on his tiptoes, he could just barely managed to push himself off the slippery bowled basin of the glass, and keep his head over the surface, but not for long. Already the man could feel his body altering, thanks to being submerged so thoroughly in this demonic milk.

“ANGELINA, YOU B-BITCH! YOU… gckkkk… YOU SAID!”

“I said a lot of things, my precious little dear, but so did you, so here we are now,” Angelina shrugged. “Believe me, I know far too much about you and your thirst for retaliation to leave loose ends after such a big payday as this. You should be proud to have taught me such a valuable business lesson.”

Devoid of responses, Carl sunk below the frothy meniscus, and thrashed in the blank void. The harder he tried to surface again, the more impossible it became, as he was shrinking faster than he could swim toward the top. He’d already passed the one-inch mark, and now was hurtling toward nothingness. His muscles weakened, and his lungs flooded with cream, causing him to sink deeper.

“Don’t worry, darling. I know how much you always loved my tits, and I’m not so unfeeling as to send you off to the great beyond without one last good look at them. Really, how many men can say they got to perish while seeing what you’re about to see? So, do enjoy!” the giantess boomed. She idled fondled Andy’s monster-cock, which was already fully erect again as the culmination of his inventions approached, but as always, Angelina’s focus was entirely devoted to Carl.

She knelt down, bringing her puffy sacks of flesh and mammary down level with her milk-filled torture chamber, then carefully parted her breasts with both hands, and gingerly allowed the body of the glass to smoosh its way between the bulbous cans. Swollen flesh squeezed from all around, molding and practically absorbing the oblong glassware into the globular geometry, but without bursting the cup.

As promised, Carl was utterly immersed in his wife’s milky-white, planetary boobs, though just how good a view he had of them before drowning in her breastmilk as a subatomic particle, Angelina didn’t know and frankly didn’t much care. She had far too much money to spend now to bother with such petty details.