We made it to the mall! ♡⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡ Tiny Terry chapter 4 by KoroKoroAi

Hazel pulled into the parking lot with the casual confidence of someone who had never once worried about scraping the side of her mom's car. The car rumbled to a stop, and Terry, in the darkness of her cleavage, could only assume they had arrived.

"Here we are!" Hazel chirped, and her voice came down to him muffled through layers of skin and fabric and the soft, pillowy weight of her breasts pressing against his sides. She patted her chest once, twice, a gentle tapping that made everything shift around him. "Ready, Terry-Berry?"

He tried to answer. He really did. But his face was pressed against the warm, smooth skin of her breasts, and every breath he took was thick with her scent, and the words came out as a strangled squeak that she probably didn't hear.

Not that she needed to. Hazel was already unbuckling her seatbelt, the click of it loud even through his cocoon. The car door opened and sunlight flooded in, bright enough that he could see it through the fabric of her dress, a warm pink glow that painted the inside of her cleavage in soft colors.

But then she was moving.

She hopped out of the car with the boundless energy of a golden retriever, and Terry felt it immediately. The bounce. The awful, wonderful, terrible bounce.

Her breasts jiggled with the motion, a soft, liquid sway that pressed him first against one side, then the other. The fabric of her dress was thin and slightly damp with sweat from the drive, clinging to her skin. Each step she took sent a new wave of motion through her chest, her breasts moving in their own rhythm, independent of everything else.

She was skipping. He could tell from the way the drum of her footsteps came in uneven pairs, the thump-thump of one foot followed by the thump-thump of the other, each one sending a fresh earthquake through her body. Her breasts bounced with each skip, slapping together softly, a muffled sticky thwap. The motion pressed him deeper, wedged him further into the space between them, and he couldn't tell which side was which anymore. There was only warmth, only softness, only the relentless pressure of her body moving around his.

The parking lot asphalt gave way to something smoother, the echo of her footsteps changing as she entered the mall. The air cooled around them, but Terry couldn't feel it. He was sealed in her heat, her sweat making the skin around him slightly tacky, the friction of her breasts against each other a constant, rhythmic pressure.

He was hard.

He hated that he was hard. Hated the way his body betrayed him, the way his stupid little dick pressed against the inside of his jeans, aching with every bounce, every slap of her perfect tits against each other. She was his sister. The same sister who used to hold his hand when they crossed the street, who cried when he fell off his bike, who tucked him in when he had nightmares, like Mom would.

But right now she wasn't any of those things. Right now she was warmth and softness and the smell of her lotion and the sound of her heartbeat thumping steady and strong, and his body didn't care about any of the things his brain knew. His body only knew that he was pressed between two huge, perfect, young breasts, and that they were bouncing with every step she took, and that the friction of her skin against him was making him so hard it hurt.

The world went dark for a moment as her breasts pressed together tight, sealing him in a cocoon of soft flesh. He couldn't see anything. Couldn't breathe. Could only feel, and what he felt was her heartbeat, her warmth, the slight stickiness of her skin where her sweat had dried and then re-wet from the motion.

But then, with each bounce off the ground, her weight transferred, and her breasts parted just enough to let in a sliver of light. He saw it for a second, the blurry glow of the mall's interior through her dress, before the breasts came together again and sealed him back in darkness.

In. Out. In. Out. Light, then darkness. Air, then pressure. Her breasts slapped together with each step, her skin sticking and unsticking with each motion. He was trapped between them, too small to matter, too light to be felt, just a speck of dust caught in the tide of her body.

He was going to orgasm. A pulse of pleasure shot through his groin and made his hips jerk forward against her skin. He bit his lip hard, trying to hold back the sound that might escape. If she heard him, if she knew what she was doing to him, he would die. He would simply die right here between her tits and that would be the end of Terry Rose, buried in his own sister's tits, along with his disgusting cum.

But Hazel didn't notice. Hazel was walking through the mall, her heels clicking on the polished floor, her breasts bouncing and slapping and squeezing him with every step, and she was humming again, completely unaware that her little brother was rutting against her chest like an animal.

But then, just as Terry thought he couldn't hold on any longer, Hazel stopped. She sat down, and he and her breasts came down to rest. Her fingers brushed against the top of her cleavage, and the pressure of her touch pushed her breasts together slightly. 

"Okay!" Hazel's voice came from above, bright and cheerful. "We're here! Now," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "Where's my little brother?"

She peeled her breasts apart with one hand.

The light was blinding. Terry squeezed his eyes shut against it, the sudden brightness searing through his eyelids. He heard Hazel make a little sound, something between a laugh and a groan.

"Terry-Berry, where did you go? You're so far down there!"

She was right. The motion of her walk, the bouncing and jiggling, had worked him deep into her cleavage. He was so far down that her fingers couldn't reach him without help.

He tried to move, to push himself up, but he had no leverage. His arms were pinned to his sides. His legs were tangled in the fabric of her bra. Every shift he made just wedged him tighter to the slick skin.

"Okay, hold on, hold on." Hazel sounded amused. "I got you."

She used both hands this time, her fingers pressing into the soft flesh of her breasts, pushing them apart. The pressure was immense, her hands squeezing and spreading. Her fingers were digging into the flesh just above him. She was humming, some tune he didn't recognize. Her head tilted as she made eye contact.

"There you are!"

Her fingers found him, warm and careful, pinching the back of his shirt and pulling, forcing him up by his armpits. He came free with a soft pop, the sound of skin unsticking from skin, and then he was dangling in the air, held by his shirt like the scruff of a kitten.

Hazel brought him up to her face, her eyes wide and sparkling, her smile so bright it hurt to look at.

"You are so tiny!" she giggled, shaking him gently. "I could barely even feel you in there!"

She held him up to the light, turning him this way and that, examining him like he was a doll she'd pulled out of her pocket. Terry's face was burning. He was sure she couldn't see it, but part of him was still afraid that she would look down at the obvious evidence of his shame and laugh, or worse, be confused - or worse still - be curious.

But Hazel didn't see it. Hazel was too busy deciding what to do with him.

"Okay, little bro." She tucked him into the palm of her hand, her fingers curling around him, warm and secure. "What should we do first?"

She looked around the mall, her eyes scanning the shops and stalls and crowds of giant people. Her thumb stroked absently against his back, a soft, rhythmic motion that made his skin prickle.