*By 33

You could feel Donna walking as you sat in her closed fist. Her fingers were slightly plump, but her hand as soft, and smelled faintly of some sort of floral lotion. The hand was warm, but a few seconds later you heard a car door shut, and the engine crank, and then the hand opened.

As light covered you again you looked up to see Donna lighting a cigarette dangling from her lips with her other hand. She was holding you just below her breasts, and you had to crane your neck to see her.

“Okay. So I gotta be honest,” she said, her off hand removing the cigarette and a stream of smoke swirling just above your head, “I’m still not sure this is even real. We’re gonna head back to my place and I’m gonna hop on my laptop and do some research. Part of me tells me I should give you to the authorities or your family or something, but if anything happened to you, I’d blame myself. I hope you understand.”

You did understand. You did not want to be naked and an inch tall in a woman you barely knew’s hand, but you appreciated her level headedness to accept there was an inch tall man in need of help, and her willingness to attempt to do so.

“This may be a little awkward, but I want you to be safe for the car ride and still be able to see what’s going on and breathe fresh air,” she said, before gently tucking you shoulder deep into her cleavage. Donna was not a woman you would’ve found conventionally attractive, she was easily 15-20 years older than you, plump, and a smoker, but you did find yourself slightly around between her gigantic breasts, and you certainly hoped she wouldn’t notice