Another dreary Friday morning…

Paisley Park drummed her fingers against her desk, eyes nervously flicking towards the clock once again. Time always moved slower on the days she was alone, and the LAST thing she needed was to be alone with her thoughts, mere minutes away from an important call.

Her friend in the cubicle next to hers was a real handful sometimes, but she missed her when she was gone more than she tolerated her when she was there. Of course, today of all days Bebe had taken the day off to spend the long weekend with her little boyfriend Richard. And of course that meant that TODAY OF ALL DAYS the itty-bitty bastard had left her to pick up the slack and finish the mountains of paperwork that towered over his teensy-weensy body…

Paisley felt her fists balling up.

Usually, she’d have a pet Tiny to keep her company—and keep her from dwelling on work’s many stresses.

But that last one had gone missing surprisingly quickly.

She always lost track of the little things; usually she’d have her hands on a replacement pet in no time thanks to her friend’s penchant for collecting the little things like trinkets. But, as mentioned, Bebe was out today.

So here she was.

At the office.

Alone.

…

She needed something to drink.

Gathering some papers, she sighed and clomped over to the office water cooler.

And that’s where she found you.

The water in the plastic jug ripples slightly. You rise to attention, your ears perking up at the slowly growing sound of thudding footfalls.

FINALLY, somebody!

You shout and wave your arms as your hopeful-savior rounds the corner.

B-big…

You gulp as you take in the sheer enormity of this woman.

Th-this must be Ms. Paisley Park…

One of the people whom you were told to avoid at all costs.

As a Tiny, you’re used to identifying the many, MANY dangers that could befall your quarter-inch-tall form.

And this weary, inattentive woman seems like a walking calamity.

The drooping bags hanging under her eyes…

The massive, stomping boots…

Her wide, bumping hips…

But as she shuffles the paperwork she’s been clutching tightly to her chest, the BIGGEST threat to your little life becomes exceedingly clear…

You swallow nervously as you take in the immensity of the godly, jiggling bust that bounces with each step. She makes D-cups seem petite with those heaving orbs she’s packing.

Paisley Park’s breasts…

A workplace hazard in and of themselves, ESPECIALLY for a little bug like you…

Tearing your eyes off her heaving tits, you catch Ms. Park fanning herself and tugging at her collar.

She glances around, and you wince as she pops open a few extra buttons, airing herself out and exposing only a fraction of her colossal cleavage, the milky flesh practically spilling out of its ill-fitting cotton confines.

Satisfied, she clutches the paperwork to her chest again and resumes her pace towards you.

You really, REALLY don’t want to have to rely on her, but you don’t really have much choice…

The shadow of this curvaceous titan falls over you as she arrives at the water cooler you’re perched on. You gulp as she leans forward to pluck a paper cup off the nearby stack, granting you a full, unbridled look down her unbuttoned top.

Her breasts seem like gelatinous planets, tightly packed into that formal blouse and begging for release. Sweat droplets that easily dwarf you in size roll down their surface, that poor little top button looks as if it’s about to pop right off, and her cleavage looms before you like a hungry maw.

How many Tinies just like you has she swallowed in there, you wonder…

Your mouth goes dry, but as she rises back up you muster your strength and yell out to her at the top of your lungs.

HEEEEEEYYYYYYY!!!!

Ms. Park nearly jumps out of her skin, startled.

Her eyes buzz around, lost, until they finally screw onto your pitifully tiny body, still waving and jumping on the ledge of the water cooler.

“Oh!” She says, touching a hand to her chest. You try not to follow it with your eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry! You scared me!” She laughs and leans in gently, bringing her immense face uncomfortably close.

You frantically apologize and back up, feeling your spine press into the cool plastic surface of the water jug.

“It’s fine. I just… wasn’t expecting anyone else here today. Well, I mean, most of the Tiny—I mean, Regressed Workers are usually, uhh…” She seems so uncertain for someone who could wipe you out in an instant, tripping over her words constantly in an attempt to justify herself.

“...No hard feelings,” She finally settles on, smiling. “Are you okay—Uh, you DO work here, don’t you?”

That smile slowly fades; this close, you notice the semi-sweetness in her eyes replaced by something else. Something much colder, more critical. “You’re not… a Street Tiny, right? Or somebody’s pet?”

N-no! No! Of course not! 

It stings, but you’re kind of used to it by now. Not the first time someone’s made that mistake. 

At the very least she recognized you as a Tiny, and NOT a bug or some half-eaten crumb. It’s happened FAR too much in the past.

And with any luck today, you’ll live to see it keep happening…

You explain what happened. 

You’re a new-ish intern, and usually you have someone looking out for you—a regular-sized Caretaker. 

But… something came up, and they had to leave work rather abruptly. 

And they left you here.

And you left your phone on their desk…

“Awwwwww…” Your massive audience member coos, bathing you in post-morning breath reeking of coffee. You can practically see breakfast still lodged between teeth twice your height. “Poor thing…”

Her huge, hazel eyes drink you in slowly, before flitting over to the clock on the wall, and the paperwork still in her hands. “Do you… Want me to take care of you? At least until your Caretaker comes back?”

Uhhh, yeah, sure! W-well, maybe not ‘take care’, you really just need to—

But she’s already rising back up to her full height, sympathetic face quickly obscured by the shelf of her breasts.

Oh, right.

Boobs.

Before you can backpedal, a massive hand comes down to pluck you up, but she hesitates. She seems uncertain how to handle you. More used to handling pets than actual coworkers, you’d surmise.

Finally, she just settles on lowering her hand and letting you climb on. You’re rocketed up quickly—almost too quick. The force flattens you to her palm and you’re soon face-to-face with one enormous eyeball.

“Okay, good. You got on,” She says. “I wasn’t sure if… nevermind. Just… try not to fall off, okay?”

You give a thumbs-up.

“Alright, let’s head back to my desk.”

Wait wha—

“Look, there’s a really important call that’s about to come in, I really can’t miss it. You can wait a little bit, right?” She doesn’t wait for a response, and soon she’s walking again. 

Despite what she said, the ride’s really bumpy and she holds her hand strangely aloft—Okay, so she REALLY isn’t used to handling you.

At least, not as a person…

One ride in a sweaty palm later, you’ve arrived.

So this is Ms. Park’s desk…

It’s… surprisingly messy. 

Half-finished paperwork clutters and clogs most of the open space, leaving just barely enough room for her desktop and maybe a coffee. Right as she sets down the forms she was carrying, the phone rings.

“Ah, there it is! One sec, then I’ll take you back, okay?” Again, she doesn’t wait for a response as she picks up the phone. 

Almost like she doesn’t actually care if it’s okay. 

Almost like she doesn’t care about the opinions of some bug…

…

You’re probably overthinking things again.

Ms. Park picks up the phone, takes a deep breath, and in a cheery voice answers, “Mesa Insurance, Paisley Park speaking! How can I help you?”

Her tone’s much brighter than that dreary, hesitant voice she was using just a second ago with you. 

“A pen and paper?” She says, and that uncertainty creeps back into her voice. 

She glances at you in her free hand and without skipping a beat replies, “Yes, just give me one second…”

She looks rapidly around her meager deskspace, looking for somewhere to put you. “Oh… Uhh… Umm…” Apparently unable to find anywhere suitable to set you down, she pulls the phone from her ear and whispers, “Sorry.”

As you stand dumbstruck, you feel your palm platform slowly begin to rotate.

Oh no.

No no no no no no no NO NO NONONONO!

You scramble to cling onto her, but you’re slipping fast—Has she been sweating MORE???

A quick look over your shoulder confirms your worst fear.

She’s just dropping you into her cleavage.

M-Ms. Park! 

MS. PARK!!!

You practically shriek for her help, but she’s already back on the phone, nodding along attentively.

The last bit of attention she throws you is a look of mild annoyance that you’re still hanging on. With a gentle shake you’re sent careening through the air.

Down, down towards the endless expanse of Ms. Park’s massive breasts… 

Paisley nodded and grabbed a pen. “Okay, go ahead.”

She wrote down a few numbers and set it down. “That’s policy numberrrrr… 12345?”

The voice on the other end of the line confirmed.

“Oh. Well, that’s easy to remember!” She laughed. “Anyway, continue, please.”

You slap against the curved surface of her left breast with all the finesse of an insect on flypaper, and leave just as much of an impact. 

Almost instantly you’re soaked by the thin layer of sweat coating the surface, but that’s far from where your troubles end. Your landing place is far from perfectly horizontal, and you’re already slowly sliding down the surface of the immense boob…

As Ms. Park attends to her business, the pathetic, pinprick speck on her chest slides closer and closer towards the dreaded chasm that lies between her behemoth breasts. Her chest slowly rises and falls with her breathing, meanwhile you frantically claw at the steepening slope, slick with sweat.

MS. PARK!

HELP, MS. PARK!!!

MS. PARK, I’M SLIPPING!!!

Looking up for some sort of salvation, you’re only met with the underside of her chin as she continues her call.

She doesn’t even care that you’re down here, slowly slipping into her cleavage like some pathetic little bug.

No, you’re less than that in her eyes.

A bug would at least generate some kind of reaction.

Disgust.

Revulsion.

Even just the dismay of finding you there.

But you’re less than that in her eyes…

You’re nothing but a speck to her…

A mote of dust, flittering through the air…

Heading straight down her top…

As the despairing reality of your situation sinks in, a bead of sweat glints in the distance. You gaze up at the glistening droplet as it rolls down the curved slope of Ms. Park’s breast, careening towards you.

It slams into you and carries you off, screaming, into the dank abyss of her cleavage…

Wrapping up her short business call, Paisley barely noticed the meager drop of sweat dribbling down her boob.

“Okay, got it. Yeah. Okay. Thaaaaank you.” She hung up and finally let the pitched smile droop into an exasperated frown. She always smiled when she was on the phone with clients. 

Force of habit.

The call had been stressful. She’d worked up a healthy sweat just listening to that nasally drawl on the other line, and now she was positively soaked. She wiped her forehead and suddenly became aware of the vast amount of perspiration pooling in her pits, and especially between her breasts.

Ugh. 

She’d have to take care of that soon.

Now…

Uhh…

What was she doing again?

Her eyes aimlessly swept across her cubicle, unable to shake the nagging feeling that she was forgetting something…

They fell on a damp set of papers she’d been clutching to her chest earlier and she suddenly recalled.

Oh, of course!

She hadn’t dropped off those reports!

It’s tight.

And hot.

And wet.

Trapped in the dankest depths of Ms. Park’s bosom, you struggle to hang onto even a fleck of hope that you’ll be rescued.

Or that she’ll even remember you’re there.

You’re surrounded on all sides by warm… sticky flesh in this humid prison, a veritable oubliette of boob.

A boobliette.

…

Christ, the heat’s getting to you.

And it’s only going to get worse.

Aside from the general tightness and stuffiness in your bottomless tit-prison, you feel the plush walls rise and fall with each breath.

Even the most passive of acts—Ms. Park’s breathing—squeezes you tight in her vice-like cleavage.

Suddenly, a distant growl and then—movement!

She’s moving!

A shift in gravity tells you she’s standing up, and now she’s—

Oh GOD she’s moving.

Now you start to panic as each gentle footstep jostles her immense bust, the constant jiggling only getting you wedged deeper and deeper.

You wriggle uselessly as the last traces of daylight slip out of view, and you’re gone.

Swallowed whole by Ms. Park’s bottomless bust, endlessly slammed and slapped against breasts big enough to move mountains—they ARE mountains.

Planets, even.

And you?

You’re nothing but a teensy-weensy little speck, lost in the endless, heaving ocean of an office worker’s boobs…

Paisley casually snacked as she headed back to her desk.

She grimaced as more than a few crumbs tumbled into her cleavage.

Of course.

The damn thing was like a black hole, she swore.

Always prone to losing things, Paisley was bound to find all sorts of doodads and trinkets she’d either lost or long-forgotten about stuffed in there.

Crumbs…

Contact lenses…

Jewelry…

Even the squished remains of some bug once, and DEFINITELY more than a few squirming Tinies!

She paused and momentarily peered down into the breast valley.

Th-there wasn’t anybody in there NOW, was there…?

…

No, of course not!

Her last Tiny MIGHT have gone missing mysteriously, but…

He probably just…

Ran away, or something.

They always ran away, if she didn’t lose them somewhere first, she briefly lamented.

Shaking her head, she reached for a handful of tissues on her desk.

Time for clean-up.

You’re drowning in Ms. Park’s cleavage, both figuratively AND literally.

The buildup of sweat is so great that it’s practically seeping out of her boobs, directly into your clothes. You cough and sputter, trying to spit out the foul liquid, but it’s impossible to get away from it.

You’re trapped, and no one’s coming to rescue you.

There’s no plan.

There’s no hope.

And there is NO escape from Paisley Park’s massive fucking titties…

…

…

…!

A sliver of daylight peeks into the dungeon of the deepest part of Ms. Park’s cleavage. The crack grows wider, massive, familiar structures prying the walls apart and bathing you in the office’s sterile flourescence.

Sh-she’s spreading her boobs!

She really DOES know you’re down here!

You’re SAVED!

…At least that’s what you thought, until you saw the enormous wad of tissues barrelling towards you.

Stuck fast to whichever breast this is, you’re helplessly wicked away with the rest of her boobsweat, collected in the center of the tissue-wad as it glides across the inside of her cleavage.

Satisfied with the first, she moves onto the second, and you can only scream as you’re pressed directly into the plush, pillowy surface and taken along for the ride.

Gallons of salty sweat pour over you as she tries to dry out the stale crevice, your entire body mashed into the overwhelming breast.

And then—peace.

Your vessel peels off the moistened surface, taking you with it, thankfully.

Drenched and barely clinging to consciousness, you once again stare up at the underside of Ms. Park’s chin from the center of her little makeshift sweat rag.

So close, yet so impossibly far…

If only she would just look down…

You call out weakly, but she’ll never hear you.

Her head twists, apparently looking everywhere but down. Then another hand rises and starts undoing the buttons on her blouse.

Each lets out an audible POP! gradually lessening the strain, until both heaving breasts are finally free. From your new vantage point, you can see the milky monstrosities still bulging against the tight confines of a plain black bra.

Just how huge ARE these things???

Looks like you’re about to find out…

Your cotton cradle lurches forward, and Ms. Park’s hand sinks into the plush surface of one gargantuan breast. She lifts it out of that two-sizes-too-small bra, exposing a dish-sized areola and, more importantly, the glistening underside.

Oh no.

Oh no no no no…

You try to fight your way out, but your strength is sapped.

As the enormous boob rapidly eclipses you, you sigh and accept your fate.

You’re just her little sweat rag now.

You crash into the sopping underside of her tit, a disgustingly familiar feeling. The salty sea of sweat cascades over your little body, face mashed into the boob that’s become your whole world.

But this time, something’s different…

It feels like you’re spending far too much time against her skin, and you twist your head just in time to see the massive tissue leaving.

The bottom of your stomach gives out.

You’re being left behind, stuck to this foul titan’s tit.

Trapped under her boob…

You struggle to get her attention—to give her some reminder of the Tiny coworker she picked up not long ago—but she’s already moving onto the next planetary breast.

With the last of your strength, you call out to her pleadingly as she releases you.

MS. PARK!!!

MS. PA—

Paisley hummed to herself as she finished wiping under her boob, then tended to the other.

It wasn’t often the office was quiet enough for her to tend to her needs like this…

Finally finished, she balled up the wet wad of tissues and tossed it into the trash.

Now came the arduous process of cramming each boob back into this measly little bra…

She sighed as she unhooked and then rehooked the overwhelmed underwire, watching her breasts easily overflow the cups.

This was the largest size they had at the store, too…

Next, rebuttoning her blouse in a pitiful attempt at hiding the rest of these massive melons.

Always a struggle, she held her breath as she attempted to get up to at least the third button, but the little thing just wouldn’t take…

Ugh, whatever.

She’d just show off a little more boobage than usual.

It wasn’t like there was anyone else in the office anyway…

Paisley Park glared down at her heaving breasts.

Overflowing her bras, stretching out her favorite shirts, obscuring her vision, squashing and swallowing her pets whole…

She really hated these damn balloons, and that made her chuckle.

She couldn’t think of anyone who utterly despised big boobs as much as she did…