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.