Burglar Bounce Around Too Much... Your Own Shrinkray Adventure chapter 7 by Marak077

You've decided to send her on little errands and chores around the house while you stay between her cleavage to enjoy some smothering pleasure. But with each passing minute, her movements grow more agitated and uncontrolled.

In the living room, she bends over to fluff the pillows, and her enormous jugs sway and undulate, nearly knocking you out as you cling to her sweating skin. She silentlh rights herself and heads to the kitchen to clear some dishes, her gait growing more erratic and wild. Thick wobbling waves of flesh pulse and quiver around you, crushing you between her mammary mountains.

In the kitchen, the dishes clatter in the sink as she scrubs furiously, elbowing the facets on and off, blasting you with sudden torrents of steaming water. Her swaying breasts slam into your helpless form over and over, engulfing you in smothering hot darkness, squeezing out the air, threatening to crush your tiny body between them like a grape.

She whips around to the stove, jostling the knobs and dials and sending the oven blasting open. Scalding heat wafts out, but not as intense as the feverish heat of her body, like a furnace churning out the sweat that streams down her cleavage, nearly drowning you in the flood. She careens around, slamming into walls and cupboards, her breasts mashing you against the unyielding surfaces with brutal force, rattling your bones. You could even feel a few nearing their breaking points.

You try to claw your way free of her slowly torturing mountainous mounds, but cannot escape their prison. They pulse and heave around you, crushing you, grinding you, squeezing you, threatening to pulp you between them. You're helpless, pinned in a whirlwind of sweaty, undulating flesh as she rampages through the house, her movements growing more manic and erratic by the second.

With the last of your strength, you order her to present herself to you in one hour, and she obediently staggers out of the kitchen, her breasts swinging in wild arcs that threaten to dash you against the doorframe. Somehow you manage to cling on as she waddles up the stairs and throws herself into bed with a shuddering groan. She passes out, her cleavage rising and falling in a slow, heavy rhythm, and you collapse back against the sweat-drenched valley of her breasts, gasping for air and wondering if you'll survive her next rampage... For now you lay in bed, exhausted, and likely would never do that again.