Hazel's Brave Teddy-Terry Knight (2) Tiny Terry chapter 5 by KoroKoroAi

A deep, shuddering sigh passed through her entire body. The mountain range of her breasts shifted. The pressure on Terry’s left side increased suddenly, pinning him at a new, awkward angle. A low, dreamy murmur echoed from far above, distorted by flesh and sleep.

“Oh... …monsters…”

Terry’s eyes, screwed shut in his dark world, flew open in useless panic.

No. No, no, no.

Hazel was a restless sleeper on a good night. A dreamer. And her dreams were never quiet.

Her body tensed. The soft, giving flesh around him tightened and became even more firm, unyielding. He was trapped in a vice.

“Princess Hazel… danger…” her dream-voice mumbled.

The arm that had been curled under her breasts, the one holding them (and him) in place, suddenly tightened its grip. Her hand, previously resting limply on her breasts, slid up. Fingers, each one as thick and long as his entire body, splayed across the vast expanse of her right breast.

From Terry’s perspective, all he could sense was the top breast crushing him even more.

“The... The slimes are attacking...” Hazel gasped in her sleep. "The princess..."

Her other hand came up, mirroring the first, and seized the other breast.

And then she began to knead. It wasn’t conscious. It was the thrashing of a dreaming girl, acting out a battle against gelatinous foes.

Her fingers dug into the soft tissue. The flesh of her right breast bulged and shifted around her fingers. The breasts parted somewhat, and Terry was suddenly tumbled, rolling in a tidal wave of warm skin, spinning head over heels as he descended the breast, his face mashed into the soft, yielding skin. He panted, inflating his lungs for the first time since going to bed, as he watched the opposite breast lift high above him.

“S... Save me, Terry...” Hazel whimpered, and dropped it.

In the blink of an eye, the lights went out in a crushing press. Slap. The immense weight of her breast bore down on him. All air left his lungs in a silent scream. His bones, tiny and flexible as they were, groaned in protest. Sparks of pain, but also a sharp, electric jolt of helpless stimulation, shot through his compressed body.

The pressure relented for a fractured second as her dreaming hand shifted its grip. “Terry!” Hazel’s voice cried out, still dreamily, “save me, my knight... ”

Her left hand now swung into action. Still deeply asleep, she lifted the top breast slightly. For a split second, Terry wondered if these dream-theatrics were a regular occurrence for her. Did Teddy-Terry - the real one - endure this punishment every knight? But then, with a soft, meaty smoosh, she brought the breast back down. This time she used the full force of her arm, kneading it into the other one like dough.

He was the infinitesimal speck of dust between two colliding planets. The force slammed him deeper into the bottom breast’s skin, then rebounded, rubbing him into it as it settled.

And through the terror, the helplessness, the sheer scale of his powerlessness, his traitorous body reacted. The relentless, all-encompassing pressure, the hot, silken slide of her skin, it was too much. A tight, shameful coil of pleasure stirred, independent of his shattered will, straining against the heavy weight.

Hazel let out a slow, sleepy gasp. “Terry! ...Watch out...”

She squeezed her breasts together. Then, with a sleepy grunt of effort, she began to slide them back and forth against each other, with him as the pivot point.

He was dragged along the sensitive inner skin, right over the peaked, hard nub of her right nipple. The texture was dizzying. The stimulation was catastrophic.

“He’s… he’s losing…” Hazel breathed, her voice dreamy and satisfied.

Terry couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. His world was reduced to heat, pressure, wetness, and the low, grinding sound of her skin on skin. The shameful coil snapped. The nipple was just too much. A violent, silent orgasm was ripped from him, so intense it was a white-hot seizure in the dark. His tiny body convulsed, a pathetic shudder against the continental mass of her breasts, utterly unnoticed, and he was so crushed that hardly anything came out.

But the dream wasn’t over.

“No! The slimes… they’re combining!” Hazel cried out, her voice filled with fresh dream-terror.

Her hands repositioned. She cupped both breasts from beneath, lifting them, bringing them together into a single, overwhelming mass of cleavage.

Hazel let out a long, sad sigh. “The slimes… ate the knight… sacrificed himself… for the princess...” Her voice slurred into contentment. “So brave… my tiny Terry…”

Her hands went limp, sliding away from her breasts and flopping onto the bed. The vice-like pressure lessened by a fraction, but the envelopment was complete. He was lodged somewhere in her nipple, his body bent into an odd shape, his face pressed directly against the slightly oily areola.

With a final, sleepy murmur, Hazel rolled fully onto her stomach.

The full, crushing weight of her upper body descended. The bed springs squeaked. For Terry, buried against her chest, it was the final, gentle press of a ten-ton mountain.

The last pocket of air was squeezed from his lungs. The warm darkness became absolute. The deep, rhythmic vibration of her snore started up, a contented purr that resonated through the flesh that was now his tomb.

Hazel was fast asleep on her stomach, a blissful smile on her lips. Her little knight had bravely given himself to the slime monsters to save her.