The zipper again roars overhead, and light pours into the purse. Her face looms impatiently over the opening for a moment before disappearing again. Her hand reached in like a claw, and she again plucked me up where I stood. Without waiting for me to gather my thoughts or so much as breath, she drops me into her cupped palm.
"I'm wondering," she began "what would happen if we tried to show you that you're attracted to the idea of being tiny, rather than the reality," She paused for her own ponderance "I think it makes sense to see a beautiful woman and feel emotions you can only translate into a desire to be closer, lesser, perhaps even owned by, the woman. You build a fanatasy to rationalize the simple fact that perhaps, by no other means, could you ever get so close to such an intimidatingly beautiful woman... like me... for example." She smiled to herself before offering a quick glance down at me. "So, we'll start with what I would imagine to be a pretty jarring experience, a careful what you wish for sort of approach."
The excitement was beginning to turn into concern, though curiosity still overshadowed any real fear. I could see by the look on her face, that she was not concerned with the look on mine. With her free hand, she played on her phone for a moment, and with no warning I seemed to become smaller in her hand. Surely no more than an inch.
"That'll work better." She said, tossing her phone into her purse with a thud. She fished a necklace out from betwixt her breasts, and the pendant dangling in the fingers of her free hand, was what appeared to be a harness crafted out of some rose gold wire.
Without waiting for me to make any move or response, she roughly placed me into this contraption, and before I could protest or even process what was happening, I was clasped in to this locket. She dangled me for a moment from her fingers before allowing the necklace, and myself, to free fall against her chest, and with an adjustment of her breasts, I was settled into her cleavage, just at her sternum where I could feel her heart beating. Not just that however, I could feel the indescribable warmth of her skin, the alluring scent of her perfume, and the dewy sweat of her her workday. She disembarked the car and strode across the parking lot into the gym. Every step sending her amble bosom to not just bounce and sway, but to clash against me without relent. The chain dangled freely, and I was beginning to perhaps see her point. She enters the locker room, and removes her blouse. I could only barely see from my place between her breasts, but I saw a room of towering titaness women. My jaw dropped at the indescribable wave of emotion I felt at witnessing their beauty. It was shortlived. The pushup bra came off, and briefly I seemed to fall further as her breasts freed themselved. Quickly, a sports bra was pulled on to contain them, and I was tucked again between her breasts, this time, a much firmer resting place. It was dark, and already I could feel it getting warmer. She pulled on a tshirt, somehow making it darker still, and then we were moving again.
Over the course of the next 90 minutes, though to me it felt like a century, I was mortified. I lost all sense of time and direction as she ran, lifted, pushed up, got down, jumped and jacked, and whatever other impossible to perceive motions she was putting herself through. Her breasts would seem to press me flat over and over, or I would be jostled and maddened by gravity being exerted upon me over and over and over. The shock of her body landing from a jump, to me, was a nightmare. My teeth would clench and my head would ache, my bones would scream out, and there was nothing I could do. The heat became unbearable, though my only choice was to bear it. I was not simply soaked, but absolutely drenched in the thick sweat that would run down her cleavage. It was as if I was under a downspout. The salt would burn my eyes, it would fill my mouth every attempt to breathe, the taste was indescribable like some awful brine run off. The once pleasant scent of her perfume was now a stifling heat, the smell of the elastane in her bra mixed with the intense smell of body odor. I couldn't tell if I had allowed myself to cry, or if I was simply feeling her sweat continuing to run down my face. Finally, she slowed. Her heart, beating like a deafening drum in my ears, began to calm. She returned to the locker room.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author