Barbara made her way down the aisle of the plane, already gritting her teeth for a less-than-comfortable ride. As much as she loved traveling, and had for most of her thirty-eight years, airline seats were simply not designed for someone with her natural build. The woman had been described as “buxom” more than once, though Barbara disliked the term; she didn’t ask to have a bust and caboose this bountiful. Her ample and wide-set hips had to do a little cramming between the armrests, and more significantly, the sheer enormity of her juicy, hulking breasts ensured that rolling down the tray table was nigh-impossible.

            While they’d boarded, an announcement was made that the plane was experiencing some technical difficulties which would delay takeoff. Barbara wasn’t pleased at that. But no matter. The flight would be over before she knew it, and then soon after she’d be relaxing on a sandy beach.            Barbara combed her fingers through long, chocolate-brown locks and re-checked her ticket when she arrived at the correct row. There was her aisle seat; the window was already occupied by a lanky, acne-faced teenage boy gazing through the glass.

            “Hello,” Barbara greeted him as she snuggled into her seat.

            “Hey,” he muttered, barely glancing at her. Once he looked at her longer than a second, though, his droopy eyes were wide as tea saucers. His jaw hung ajar. “Hello to you, too.”

            “Don’t mind me,” Barbara said, clicking in her seatbelt. She could tell he was gawking at her cleavage, which wasn’t unexpected. That happened most places she went.

            However, even as she got settled in, retrieving a magazine and tinkering on her cell, she could still feel the kid’s gawping attentions in her peripheral vision. He was even leaning in closer all the time, his eyes magnetized to the valley between her doughy breasts. Usually bystanders had the courtesy to disguise their stares, but not this guy. Barbara took a deep breath. No big deal, she told herself. He was just a dumb teen; this wasn’t a federal crime.

            “Are you headed for the beach, too?” Barbara pleasantly asked. She didn’t really feel like engaging him, but hoped that conversation would startle him enough to stop leering.

            “The beach? Hell yeah, I am,” he said. However, his unblinking eyes never stopped exploring the rotund geometry of his seat neighbor’s cans. He swallowed, causing his Adam’s apple to bobble. It was hard to tell, but his breathing had changed as well. “I go as much as I can.”

            Barbara self-consciously pinched the neckline of her colorful blouse and tried to pluck it up a little higher. She’d purposefully worn one of her more modest garments, specifically because of the close proximity to passengers on the plane. Of course, there was only so much she could do when her breasts expanded the fabric so far.

            “Oh? Are… you a surfer?”

            “Just a little. I don’t really go to play in the water, though.”

            “No?”

            “No, there’s way too much to see on the beach.” The boy wasn’t even turning his head now. He had outright shifted in his seat to study Barbara’s chest from a matter of just a few inches away, so close that he could’ve bowed his head and grazed his cheek along a wide flank of her pale flesh. Though he didn’t elaborate, Barbara didn’t have to guess what exactly he was “seeing” while on the beach.

            “What, um… what’s your name?” she asked, getting more uncomfortable all the time. She’d easily take a seat twice as cramped as this, if it saved her from such predatory people-watching. This presumptuous adolescent just had to be undressing her with his eyes, mentally x-raying through the thin veil of her blouse and bra to make out the meaty volume of her breasts inside.

            “Gabe,” he said dreamily, clearly only half-listening to her. “Say, there’s something I’ve always kind of wondered. Maybe you’d know?”

            “Oh. Sure…”

            “Is it true that real tits float in water, but fake ones sink?”

            “Excuse me?”

            “Well, I was sort of thinking from seeing yours. Like, if they’re really big, they must sink a little bit even if they’re not real, right? And, I mean, yours probably aren’t real.”

            Flabbergasted, Barbara had to search to find the words. She couldn’t even wrap her mind around what this snot-nosed teen had just said to her. Fully regretting attempting to start a conversation with him at all, she unsuccessfully tried to raise the neckline again.

            “I don’t know,” Barbara huffed, doing her best not to answer with the kind of snark that would elevate the situation. Promptly, she took up her magazine and buried her face in it, ending the exchange.

            Still, the minutes ticked tortuously by, and Gabe showed no signs of ending his hungry fascination over Barbara’s boobs. They still hadn’t even begun to taxi on the runway. Why were these technical difficulties taking so long? Worse, the cabin had grown stuffy while parked, and though Barbara tried to fan herself, the combination of anxiety over her seatmate and mugginess in the thin air was getting to her. She could feel perspiration forming on her forehead and neck, and from there, it was only a matter of time. Even before she chanced a look down into the thick valley of her cleavage, Barbara could feel the lubricant of sweat glossing over her skin.

            Gabe’s jaw seemed to hang even wider now. Not only did he have a clear close-up of her massive breasts, but now he was seeing them moist and shiny, like they were straight from some cheap porno. The magazine wasn’t enough to block his view, either; the kid was getting a real show over there, staring at Barbara and making her feel used. As though it was his assumed privilege. She’d even heard him lick his lips a few times. And though she couldn’t be certain, for it was too disgusting to visually confirm, Barbara was fairly sure the boy’s basketball shorts were now tenting, and he was doing nothing to hide it; in fact, Gabe was jutting his hips forward just enough to proudly display the awkward shape of his boner through the mesh. Showing off. It made the woman sick to her stomach.

            “I don’t think it’s bad, you know,” Gabe said after a while.

            Surprised, Barbara peered over her magazine page.

            “Hmm?”         

            “I don’t think fake tits are a bad thing,” he continued. Even as he spoke, his gaze was undeterred. The boy was likely on the verge of drooling at her twin masses of flesh and mammary. “Like, it’s probably the coolest thing doctors ever did. There’s a lot of girls I know at school who should probably get them done when they turn eighteen, or even sooner maybe. They might get laid more often.”

            “No offense, but I’m trying to read here,” Barbara said through gritted teeth. The last thing she felt like doing was arguing with this punk, no matter how much she wanted to shout at him, public space or not. Despite his youth, there was no justifying this behavior.

            “Ooh. Sorry,” he chuckled, clearly only mocking her. Gabe leaned closer, squinting at the cover of the magazine. He read aloud: “Increase Your Bust Size By Two Cups With These Simple Steps. No Surgery, No Fuss.”

            “Ahem.”

            “Is that what you’re reading in there?”
            “No.”

            “Cuz, I mean… you probably don’t need them to get any bigger. Like, seriously, you couldn’t even be the “after” picture in the before-and-after thing. You’re already, like…”

            “-would you please stop-”

            “…like quadruple-D. Holy shit,” Gabe said, and with that, he reached out and jammed his bony index finger directly into the spongy crevice between Barbara’s tits. He jostled his wrist and drove his finger hard, getting several inches down into the deep well of heavy, sweat-glazed flesh before the owner of those breasts grabbed him by the arm.

            “ENOUGH!” Barbara hissed, ripping Gabe’s finger out of her violated bosom. She was trembling now, fired up by this stranger’s unbelievable gall. “Shut up.”

            “Woah, sorry, I didn’t mean to make you PMS.”

            “Listen to me closely,” she uttered in a violent hush. Barbara turned the tables and leaned over into Gabe’s seat, uncaring of how much he was probably enjoying the fact that her breasts were now awkwardly sagging an inch away from his elbow. “Do not touch me for the rest of this flight, young man. Understand? And I’d rather not carry on conversation after all, if that’s all right with you. I’ve been patient, but frankly, you’re being very rude. I’m asking you now to just leave me alone.”

            “That’s cool,” Gabe droned; predictably, his eyes were lost again in the roomy vortex of the V-divide between Barbara’s puffy, hanging boobs. At that moment, as the woman shifted positions in her seat, a gleaming droplet of sweat careened down from the nape of her neck, over the hillock of her left breast, and descended into the shadow between. Gabe licked his lips again. Then, smirking with the devilish glee of a boy who’d never in his life faced consequences for his actions, brushed his fingertip along the neckline of the blouse, ticklishly caressing the skin, then ended by prodding his thumb directly over Barbara’s areola through the bra.

            “Whoops.” He grinned. “My bad.”

The teen expected to see an eruption of rage from this magnificently well-endowed creature, and in fact was looking forward to seeing her reaction. Instead, she seemed to go into a strange calm. Her lips pursed, her nostrils flared, and she didn’t automatically slap him. Barbara withdrew from the armrest, then calmly raised a hand over Gabe’s head. It sunk down, her palm massaging its way into his scalp and her fingers grasping for his hair.

            “Woah,” the surprised boy mumbled. “This looks like how one of my favorite videos starts. When she-”

            Gabe was unable to finish his sentence when Barbara’s hand came crashing down on him. The boy seemed to fold into himself with the speed and ease of a collapsible suitcase, dwindling not just in height but in proportion as well toward his seat cushion, until he was a fraction of his former stature: no taller than an infant. During the flash between Barbara’s fingers meeting her tormentor’s head and her hand slapping downward, a cartoonish twinkling sound seemed to emanate from Gabe’s shrinking body. It made just as much sense as the actual process of reducing his size to that of a baby with one magical push from the beleaguered woman’s hand, yet here it was, happening all the same.

            “Oh my God,” he sputtered, deeply aware of the woman’s hand still wrapped around his miniaturized head as casually as a softball.

            “There, I think that suits you much better, don’t you?” Barbara questioned. She patted him on the head, then cooed as she pinched both his cheeks. “You may not act your age, but now you can at least be that size.”

            “What did you do to me?” Gabe cried. As soon as he’d spoken, he realized his body hadn’t just shrunken. His voice was altered to be whinier in pitch as well as softer, making him sound ridiculous. He uselessly slapped at Barbara’s fingers as she had fun poking his cheeks, even wrapping his stubby fists around her immense digits, to no avail. “Stop it! Change me back, right now! Holy shit, how is this even possible?”

            “Aww, somebody sounds upset. Are you upset, little one?” Barbara teased. Her voice, too, had grown softer and entered a lullaby octave, though unlike Gabe’s accursed new tone, hers was on purpose. “Did somebody make you wanna cry?”

            “No, I’m not gonna cry. I’m just pissed! You fucking shrunk me!” Gabe scowled back.

            “Ohh, somebody’s a cranky lil’ baby doll, huh? What’s wrong, sugar? You need your diapey changed?” Barbara fired back in a candied voice. She puckered her lips and made faux-kiss faces at him, batting her eyelashes and playfully wagging her fingers. “I’ll go get you a clean one, if you think you went poo-poo on yourself?”

            “Fuck you!”

            “Hmmm, definitely a cranky baby. Well, I’m sure you’ll settle down once the plane takes off. I just hope you don’t get hungry, because I don’t have anything for you, little one. You got yourself into this. Just remember that,” Barbara explained. Now thoroughly enjoying herself, she gave up on trying to better conceal her cleavage, and even provided her humongous breasts with a good jostle. They continued to jiggle for several seconds after she let go of the bulbous cans, and Barbara savored the mix of horny desire and furious anxiety in the baby-sized Gabe. Somehow, she cared less that he was indulging so heavily in the show, when he was now too tiny to do a single thing about it. Barbara opened her magazine and resumed reading.

            Still more time passed without the plane so much as budging. Thoroughly hot and perspiring in the claustrophobic plane seat, Barbara’s mood was at least brightened by how easily she’d emasculated this bratty horn-dog of a kid. She peeked at him now and again, just to make sure he was still miserable. Indeed he was, pouting with his arms crossed and sneering every few seconds like it might regrow him from his doll proportions.

            “You won’t get away with it, you know,” he grunted.

            “Sorry, what’s that, baby boy? You’ll have to speak up so I can hear you.”

            “You can’t just do this to me. I’m a person, you know.”

            “Are you? Well, you didn’t seem to extend that same courtesy to me. Women aren’t just objects sitting around for your pleasure and analysis, praying you break the tension by shoving your smelly fingers where they’re not wanted,” Barbara rattled off, a smirk on her lips the whole time. “Maybe this will be a little lesson to you, little one?”

            “What do you want? Okay, whatever, I’m sorry. Jesus. Everybody’s so sensitive these days. All PC and shit,” Gabe continued. He stood up in his seat beside Barbara’s arm and pushed it several times, earning no response. “Hey, the stuff I said before was a compliment, remember? I told you I didn’t care that yours were fake. Even though they’re kinda freakishly huge, and they’re probably sort of a turn-off to some guys, but not me! They totally hide that you’re, like, forty or something.”

            Barbara’s upper lip twitched.

            “Lady, look at me! Turn me back! Turn me back now! Undo this!” Gabe wheedled. Both of his hands were fondling Barbara’s arm now, and when this did nothing, he resorted to leaning further over the armrest and open-palm slapping the nearest swath of breast flesh he could reach, several times in quick pat-a-cake succession. “FIX ME!”

            “Oh, I’ll fix you. Don’t you worry about that,” Barbara smarmed. She turned toward him, wrapped her hand around his head, and pressed down again. All the way down.

            The shrunken teen gasped from deep in his gut as he sprawled on the expansive seat beneath the now-gigantic shape of Barbara’s flattened hand. Her long, firm fingers toyed with his legs, turning him over like a sausage on a spit, while her strong palm easily pinned him down. The next time Gabe made a sound, meekly calling out for help, he was gathered up into the woman’s claw with smooth efficiency. Try as he might to fight back, wrestling her thumb and pounding his pathetically tiny fists on the inner sanctum of her sealed fist, Gabe was far too weak to prevent her from lifting him off the seat like a discarded airline peanut and carrying him up toward her face.

            “You really don’t have a good instinct for self-preservation, do you, you little runt?” Barbara throatily taunted. She held her fist in front of her lips, blowing hot air into the opening between her fingers so it steamed against Gabe and restricted his air even more than her steel-clenched digits already were. “I gave you a chance by putting you in time-out. But it doesn’t appear to be working, so we’ll be trying something a little more extreme now.”

            “Put me down! Put me down!” he squeaked. “Don’t hurt me!”

            “Oh, please keep saying things like that. It’ll keep me entertained to hear you squealing like a suckling pig the whole flight,” she giggled. With her fingernail, she batted the inch-tall man’s head back and forth, familiarizing him further with his utter disadvantage in strength, size, and will. “Now, there’s really no use in me setting you free, is there? I mean, who’s going to believe what’s happened to you here? And right in broad daylight, no less? But hey, at least you’ll get a good taste of what you’ve been lusting after like a dumb gorilla this whole time. Enjoy yourself, Gabriel.”

            Without another word, Barbara lowered her squealing capture down to her chest. Nuzzling her hand into the flabby valley, she shoved Gabe even deeper than he reached earlier with his molesting finger. Once certain that she’d tucked him at a suitable depth within the warm, perspiration-greased labyrinth of her supple breasts, Barbara released her grip on the little bugger, felt him instantly immobilized by powerful swollen flesh, then happily withdrew her hand. Satisfied, she patted her breast once more, then hummed a perky tune to herself while finally returning to her magazine article in peace.

            At the level of her heart, the greedy inch-tall critter was indeed getting more than he bargained for in terms of his ultimate desires. He hadn’t stopped struggling since Barbara pushed him into her mammoth cleavage, but it had yet to yield any difference in his compromised position. Feverish, heavy walls of immovable flesh caved in from both sides, sandwiching him firmly between her dense tits. From some unknown direction in the airless darkness, Gabe could perceive her pulse thumping through the pudgy boob-skin and causing him to vibrate softly. The revolting feeling of feminine flesh sagging onto him from all directions was omnipresent, like being entombed. Oxygen was hard to come by, and only getting trickier to breathe as the minutes wore on, with no sign of Barbara retrieving her prisoner. The harder Gabe fought to clamber upward, or in any direction for that matter, the tighter his body was balled up into the fetal position, as each occasion he tried to shove his arm or leg out, it only bounced back thanks to the pert tension of each neighboring mound of beefy tit mass.

            “Let me out, you bitch! Hey!” Gabe croaked. He hammered his fists every which way and swung his legs, and even attempted biting the maturing, freckle-dotted surface weighing down on his body. But it came to nothing, aside from a quickening in Barbara’s heartbeat, as well as a gentle belly-laugh rising from low in her gut. The glimmering sheen of sweat painted into every nook and cranny of her enormous breasts, which had made Gabe’s mouth water not twenty minutes ago, were now his undoing. Not only were the opposing walls too chunky and hefty to combat, they were slippery as well. Worse, the moisture was only building up as time passed. Combined with the blubbery outer layer of cellulite that coated the entirety of Barbara’s already melon-scaled boobs, which tremored like an earthquake each time Gabe took a stab at grappling her skin for purchase, this was the equivalent of trying and continually failing to stand up on slick ice: that, in addition to the already baking conditions of being compressed, oxygen-deprived, and nearly strangled merely by existing between two of the largest breasts the thirsty teen had ever seen.

The longer the plane remained still, turning the cabin air stale and muggier, the more uncomfortable Barbara grew. She dabbed the visible slabs of her breasts with a napkin, and tried to relax by extending her legs over into Gabe’s now-empty seat space. Plus, the armrest was all hers now.

            “Maybe I ought to take a train next time,” she mused to herself with a sigh. A ticklish irritation prickled its way up her nerves, originated from the epicenter of her hefty girls. She snickered to herself, amused at the mild sensations her toy was able to generate when he threw all his energy into resisting her.

            Still, she didn’t want him getting too hopeful about his chances. Barbara tenderly cupped a hand to each side of her expansive rack, at first simply cradling her heaving breasts, and rocking them side to side in tandem. However, the next time Gabe flung his limbs about, she swiftly quashed the rebellion by jamming her palms toward one another as hard as she could. For an instant, her breasts squeezed together so firmly the cushiness seemed all but to dissipate, leaving only two flesh-textured boulders crashing together like loose freight trains.

            The blow struck Gabe so soundly that he went limp for ten minutes straight. Barbara was beginning to suspect she’d knocked him out cold. Upon inspecting, though, and digging back into her cleavage with two fingers, the woman confirmed she’d merely left him dazed and mewling. Glad that the games weren’t ended prematurely, Barbara nuzzled her tits back together for good measure, and leaned back in her seat.

            Meanwhile, the entrapped little man was experiencing the same stagnant air as Barbara, but tenfold. Not only was the doughy zenith in her crevice becoming wetter and stickier by the second thanks to the unbearably building heat, but the cramped atmosphere was turning downright briny. Each breath Gabe drew tasted muskier, as though Barbara’s pores were excreting the essence of her sweat, hormones, and filth all in one natural ointment. The flavor made him gag, yet simultaneously set his senses alight. It was a smell he was well-acquainted with from his previous clumsy attempts at sexual passion, only this time, he was receiving it all at once, and without contributing anything except useless struggling.

            Despite the sharp fustiness his surroundings, Gabe chanced sticking out his tongue and sampling the nearest bulging wall of excessive breast flab the next time Barbara exhaled. The fruity notes of the woman’s exotic perfume coupled with the sour odors of her sweat and that unique, balmy zest that could only come from humid human flesh being coddled together over long periods of time. Overcome with the insanity of the experience, Gabe licked once more, felt his manhood hardening again, and made a new attempt at freedom. His pants loosened.

            The sensations tickling Barbara between her breasts had changed in the last few minutes. She had to cup a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing aloud when she realized the little shit had actually tried licking her boobs. The absolute nerve of this kid was reaching unfathomable heights. This act was answered quickly and decisively with another inward clench between the meaty walls which again left him briefly fazed.

            Once he’d recovered, though, Barbara was surprised to feel the inch-tall teen actually making progress in his ascension. By thrusting his whole body in concert, like a garden worm squiggling through hardy soil, he was actually managing to “swim” upward toward the surface. Barbara couldn’t help but shake her head and chuckle again. He was tenacious, even if he was in dire need of some painful life lessons. Rather than juggle her breasts again to make him lose his balance and slide straight back down the lubricated divot, Barbara instead settled in and allowed him to make his way.

            A minute later, Gabe’s puny head appeared out of the tightly packed dune-terrain of his captor’s mighty cleavage. He was red in the face, drenched in boob sweat, and quavering from exhaustion, but conscious nonetheless. Best of all, though, the concentrated effort of wrenching his body up a quarter inch at a time had succeeded in stripping his clothes clean off him, if they hadn’t already partially disintegrated from warm boob-sluicing saltwater. Befitting a teen who lived life like such a selfish animal, he was completely nude now.

            Barbara was oh-so-tempted to simply bounce up from her seat and fall right back down, which would likely slurp Gabe straight into the slippery wedge between her breasts again so fast he’d get whiplash, if not a broken neck. However, she restrained herself to watch him squirm a little longer, struggling to at last bring his tiny hands up into view so he could hang onto where the jello-like gorge curved and flattened out into the upper shelf of the woman’s titanic teats.

            “Hey!” he screamed in his loudest voice, which wasn’t more than a whimper. “HEY! PSYCHO LADY! LOOK AT ME!”

            Taking her time, Barbara flipped the page of the magazine once more, then took a sip on the ginger ale the flight attendants had passed around while waiting for the repairs. Only then, as if she’d noticed him by accident, did the buxom brunette tilt her head down and gaze cheekily at the pathetic worm of a naked man ensnared in her cleavage like quicksand. Indeed, quicksand would’ve been easier to escape. It played by the laws of nature. Barbara, on the other hand, was free to take hold of her baggy tits in each palm and jounce them into a wiggly frenzy, from which no shrunken man could ever escape.

            “That reminds me,” Barbara thoughtfully drawled, while her captive strained to stay afloat, before gravity and flesh could suck him back into the squishy cavern. As she spoke, her tone moved from a threatening snarl to the babying coos of before. “I never did give you my name, did I, runt? I’m Ms. Barbara Landman, not Psycho Lady, though I doubt you’ve got the manners to address me politely. Let’s just say I’ll settle for something less insulting than what you’ve been going for. Okay, baby boy? Is that clear? Or are you still cranky after your nap down there? Could you use a little longer going sleepy-poo, huh?”

            “Fuck… you! Let… me… out… of…” Gabe scoffed. He turned purple from the effort to hold himself up. His grip was slipping, no matter how hard he dug his pin-like fingertips into the adjoining masses of buoyant, veiny flesh. If he could only concentrate, and put his last ounces of collected energy into springing forward, he just might be able to…

            A triumphant giggle sounded from on high. Two precise, log-like fingers careened down and collided with Gabe’s head. The diminutive teen lost the fight against Barbara’s casually posited digits so fast, he had no time to try catching himself until he’d already been shoved deep down to the point where the squishing pressure of the woman’s tits formed a basin. The woman didn’t stop pushing down on Gabe’s weak little body until she was unable to force him any further without expending actual muscular effort. By then, the kid once again had no idea which way was up or down, nor where he could gulp some clean air that wasn’t already squelched by feminine perspiration and stale blackness.

            Each defeat forced Gabe to come to terms with the fact that he was genuinely afraid now. He wasn’t used to feeling intimidated by anything, let alone a woman with such boner-inducing tits, but the longer he spent imprisoned in her clutches, the less it seemed like she simply wanted to teach him a lesson, and more like she intended on simply keeping him as a breast-dwelling pet. Ironically, that scenario wasn’t far off from his daily porn searches, but now that Gabe was actually ensconced in brawny breast flesh, sharing its pulse, and being gradually compressed like chewed bubblegum, he decided it wasn’t ideal as a fantasy. In fact, it was terrifying.

            Yet despite those misgivings, Gabe couldn’t shake his hard-on. Maybe it was because the increasing lubrication between Barbara’s breasts made it easier to squinch and slide about, rubbing his naked form on sweet skin from every conceivable angle, but staying in a heady state of arousal wasn’t difficult at all. In fact, the longer this languorous full-body massage kept up, the closer Gabe drew to climax. After a while, perhaps half-drunk on boob sweat and dizziness, the idea seemed like just deserts for Barbara.

            He’d show her. Who did she think she was, turning him into an insect-man just for a laugh? Couldn’t she tell when someone was trying to pay her a compliment? She may have been a bitch, but nothing could change the fact that she had a stunning rack. And if she believed immersion therapy was going to make Gabe suffer over such fantastic breasts, she was in for a rude awakening. After groping for a minute in the dark, the inch-tall teen took hold of his manhood and started to jack it, humping the nearest creamy wall of imposing boob-fat. After so much build-up, barely any aid was required. The all-encompassing feeling of damp skin-on-skin, the stench of hormones and floral sweat, and the tantalizing heaven-touch of his shrunken dick against those burly mountains pushed Gabe to orgasm in less than a minute after he started masturbating.

            The squeak of his pleasure actually managed to penetrate Barbara’s cleavage and reach her ears. Based on the fidgety spasm she felt in her prisoner’s shrunken body, not to mention the microscopic spurt of moisture sprayed into the crevasse where her tits crested in union, she had a pretty good idea of what had happened. The woman rolled her eyes. He really was an incorrigible one. Even after all she’d put him through, including proving just how easily she could alter his bodily shape with a slap of her hand, he still hadn’t learned. That ego refused to quit. Well, there would still be plenty of time to set him straight. Barbara was patient.

Shortly after, the pilot apologized for the delays and announced they’d be underway soon. A flight attendant stopped by the aisle, discovered that Barbara’s seatmate had apparently abandoned the trip, and explained that one of the overbooked passengers would take the spot instead. Only too glad to try again for politer company, and knowing she couldn’t do much worse than Gabe, Barbara was pleased to see a fully grown man coming down the aisle, and a good-looking one to boot.

            “Sorry to make you get up,” the man said with a self-deprecating smile.

            “No trouble at all,” she answered. “My legs could use a stretch, anyway.”

            She noticed the handsome newcomer’s gaze linger only for an instant on her unusually large bust, before keeping level with her eyes. Barbara smirked. Finally, some decent company.

            “Off to the beach?” he asked.

            “How did you know?”

            Below, out of sight and temporarily out of mind, Gabe had recuperated from the most potent cum of his life. Oddly, the sensory deprivation was nothing compared to the overwhelming pressure from such inflated flesh in every dimension of his little pocket-world. He also suspected fear had contributed to the adrenaline spike which caused him to climax so hard he squealed like a dying rodent. It was a strong enough orgasm that even Barbara had to have noticed, and Gabe was smiling to himself in pre-emptive victory.

            Any minute now, her fingers would fish back into the moist, clammy depths of her taut-packed tits. She’d collect him, bring him up for air, and with the same hysterical exasperation she had earlier, tell him off, which would then allow Gabe to have the last laugh by throwing this latest blow right in her face. No matter what she did to him, shrinking or not, he would not let her have power over him. If he timed it right, he might even be able to spurt again right at her humongous billboard-face: the ultimate insult to this giant sentient pair of walking talking tits.

            For the umpteenth time today, though, the shrunken teen’s expectations were subverted. Barbara, though she’d certainly noticed his vengeful climax, was far too busy being cheered up. The plane had at last taken off, the AC was flowing, fresh drinks and snacks were passed out, and best of all, her handsome new seatmate was a marked improvement over the one she’d had to dispose of.

            “Believe it or not, I’ve never actually been to the beach,” the passenger said, flashing Barbara his winning smile. His appearance hit every cliché checkmark of attractiveness: tall, dark, and dashing, and yet he wasn’t afraid to show his advance toward middle age, with a few proudly worn gray temple hairs, which Barbara admired.

            “No kidding? And you only live an hour away?” They’d been talking for thirty minutes nonstop now, and the woman was immensely enjoying herself.
            “No joke. I know. I’m pushing forty, and I finally said to myself, look, if you don’t go see the water now, you’re only going to turn into an old fart who’s afraid to touch sand,” the man explained, earning a giggle from Barbara. “So here I go, after all this time.”

            “It’s a lovely place. Especially this time of year, when it’s not crowded,” Barbara said. “I think you’ll be very pleased with what you find.”

            “Maybe I’ll see you there?” He cocked his head, and his tone was so earnest it almost made the woman swoon. Still, his gaze only met hers, which was the highest compliment Barbara could’ve been paid, after the ordeal she’d had earlier with Gabe. “You can give me a couple pointers for how to stay standing on a surfboard.”

            “Well, I don’t know if I’ll be much help in that department, but maybe in other ways,” Barbara said with a wink. “You know, like the best little beachside tiki cocktail bars, where to rent a surrey, which hotel to grab…”

            “Sounds like I’ve hit the jackpot,” the man laughed. He held out his hand to shake Barbara’s, which she heartily accepted. “Also, I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. My name’s Charles. Nice to meet you.”

            “Charmed. My name is Barbara.”

            “Well, Barbara, I’m certainly lucky this seat randomly opened up. Really, what could whoever-this-was have been thinking, skipping out on a chance to see the beach with someone like you?”

            “I’m sure I don’t know,” Barbara laughed, absentmindedly patting the side of her breast.

            A while on, as the plane neared its destination, Charles had dozed off in his seat. Barbara was astounded to find he was even cute while sleeping, as he didn’t snore or loll his head onto her shoulder. She polished off her ginger ale, took a dreamy glance out the window, and only then consciously recalled that she still had a grubby little inch-tall creep drowning in her cleavage. This fact was driven home when Barbara felt a tickle across the front of her breast, near the ovular summit, and realized Gabe had crawled inside her gigantic bra cup.

            The teen was determined to be paid attention, by any means necessary. He’d had enough of being treated like garbage. So, employing his inchworm technique again, he’d wriggled through the fleshy void, but decided not to swim for the surface this time. That would only drain his energy again, and probably end with Barbara pushing him back down again. Instead, he drove forward, until he found the cusp of the woman’s brassiere the size of a distended parachute. From there, it was just a matter of jamming himself under the silken lip and crawling toward the beaded peak of Barbara’s melon. The air was even thinner and smellier inside the cup, so he had to work fast. Her nipple was difficult to find at first, as there was plenty of doughy surface area to get lost in, but eventually Gabe’s hand took hold of a goosebump-laden, rubbery nub almost the size of his head. Bingo. He lurched forward, wrapped his jaws as far as they would reach around the semi-erect gummy udder, and bit.

            The response was instantaneous and unforgiving. Barbara braced her middle finger against the spiraled pad of her thumb, reared back, then flicked her rude passenger straight in the head. Even the bra couldn’t dampen the force of her mighty thump. Gabe’s face smashed back into the plush nipple so hard he lingered on the edge of blacking out. He certainly had a concussion, if not something worse, like permanent brain damage. Nothing had ever hit with such pointed, pound-for-pound force before: not when he was on the rugby team, not that time he crashed his dad’s sports car, and not even when he was first inserted between Barbara’s prodigious mammaries and mashed together like a tin can in a trash compactor.

            Dizzier than ever, Gabe was determined that Barbara know what she’d done to him. This was no longer just a game. He needed medical attention now. Clambering hand-over-hand, the injured teen slowly made his way out of the bra cup, and wriggled up through the sealed slipstream of pale, compressed skin. Nearly vomiting from effort when he reached the top, Gabe gripped either side of the giant woman’s globular cleavage.

            “You’re s-so fucking c-crazy, lady. D-Don’t you see w-what happened? I n-need help! I’m g-gonna be sick!” Gabe cried. His tears were flowing freely now, and his already-squealy voice had risen so high it was falsetto. “You h-have to make me n-normal again. I c-can’t be like this. I c-can’t! I HATE it! You want me to say I’m s-sorry again? Well, I’m SORRY! I’m sorry I t-touched you, I’m sorry you got m-mad, and I’m sorry you’re fucking CRAZY!”

            Barbara couldn’t have been more delighted. Her luminescent hazel-green eyes began to glow, subtly at first, until an emerald aura burned brightly from within. Horrified, Gabe’s jaw dropped again, and for the first time today, not over her tits. The woman raised a hand and traced her finger delicately over both loping curves of her breasts, back and forth across her bosom, savoring the journey and making sure her captive watched every stroke.

            Suddenly, Barbara’s breasts started to tremble again, and it wasn’t by manual jiggling. The woman’s chest was rising to draw a deep breath. Except it didn’t stop. It was expanding, growing in all directions as though hooked to a balloon pump. Her boobs, already the most massive Gabe had ever seen, were increasing right before his eyes. The fabric of Barbara’s blouse groaned as several stitches ticked apart. These meaty bags were inflating to inhuman levels, growing tighter and more spherical all the time. Fat swelled, skin stretched, freckles doubled on the pale flesh-canvas, and colorful veins became more prominent as if sketching a roadmap. The growth showed no sign of stopping, and the owner of that transforming bust looked just about ready to keel over from the weight and scope of them, but she held firm.

            “Now that’s much better, isn’t it?” Barbara said. She pressed a single finger to the top of Gabe’s head and shoved him down before the valley became impenetrable. Though Gabe tried to hang onto her finger to avoid being absorbed into the fray, it was hopeless. He vanished again.

            The shrunken boy opened his mouth to exclaim, but for perhaps the first time in his life, he had no words. His tiny body was pinched so severely he could no longer feel anything from head to toe, except a steady pain growing from his core. Everything was crushing inward from all sides, compressing to the point of implosion. The boy managed one last pathetic, high-octave scream before his frail inch-high body popped, cherry tomato-style, amongst the burgeoning inflatable walls of musty, swollen tit skin.

            Barbara sighed with near-orgasmic contentment. She placed a hand over her breasts, feeling her heartbeat calming back to normal. Then she glanced to Charles, still blissfully sleeping beside her. If he kept up his princely charms, he just might get lucky later.

            This was going to be a marvelous vacation.