There was no way Denise was getting back to sleep with cold feet. Somehow during the night they got uncovered and now they were icicles. She gave a few futile kicks to try and reposition the blanket but her feet were flailing in midair, completely off the edge of the bed. Trying to survey the problem didn't yield any results. There was something mounded under the covers blocking her line of sight. Well, then she'd scoot up closer to the headboard. -Bonk!- She was plenty close to that already it seemed.
Denise's brain decided that something was very wrong, but refused to lend further aid unless she was willing to meet some key demands: 1) More sleep; at least an hour but preferably four. 2) A hot shower. 3) Coffee; lots of it. It was not Denise's policy to negotiate with terrorists so instead she massaged the top of her scalp and sat up in bed, trying her damnedest to solve the mystery of the frozen feet without her brain's cooperation.
The clues kept accumulating: sitting upright exposed two very large breasts that didn't seem like they ought to belong to her. Thousands of tiny goosebumps erupted across their surface, protesting the frigid air inside the room. Obligingly she reached for a t-shirt and attempted to cover up. The first one she grabbed had shrunk in the wash. She couldn't fit her head through the neck so she picked up another one which proved to be smaller still.
It was frustrating work and her feet were getting colder, so she knelt, letting her generous rear warm her heels. She couldn't remember having such a big butt. Was that new too? If it was, it would have to wait in line behind the ominous creaking noise and the tiny pair of underwear that pinched mercilessly.
Holding the garment against her chest she could see the shirt was shrinking before her eyes. Its hem was retreating upwards, exposing a crevasse of creamy cleavage. And it was getting taut across the top where she was gripping the sleeves. White flecks started to appear on it, joined by larger chunks of plaster. Her head was pushing into the ceiling as easily as a finger pokes through a wet paper towel. And the rest of her was pressing the bed downwards. The creaking got louder.
Oh no! The entire room was shrinking! before she could act, the legs of the bed snapped, dumping the box spring and mattress onto the floor. Plaster rained down from the hole in the ceiling and Denise coughed, still unsure of what was happening (or why), but absolutely certain that it was going to be a terrible day.
Oh my goodness! Being a fan of huge breasts and GTS this is a dream come true! Your art is amazing as always and your skills as a wordsmith get better with each pic. Great job!
I hope you'd wake up before you got crushed (although hey, I can think of worse ways to go).
I'm not sure Denise is going to remember why it started unless she can wake up more. Which might be difficult considering that additional sleep is going to remain elusive with a tiny crushed bed, her shower being too small to get into, and also after getting separated by narrow doorways and cramped halls from her coffee source.
Sometimes these things just happen for no reason at all. We can only hope that it is contagious. And I'm sure that a nice girl like Denise has a friendly neighbor or two who'll give her a pot of coffee.
Strider has the right idea, an "after" pic would be great!
Denise's brain decided that something was very wrong, but refused to lend further aid unless she was willing to meet some key demands: 1) More sleep; at least an hour but preferably four. 2) A hot shower. 3) Coffee; lots of it. It was not Denise's policy to negotiate with terrorists so instead she massaged the top of her scalp and sat up in bed, trying her damnedest to solve the mystery of the frozen feet without her brain's cooperation.
The clues kept accumulating: sitting upright exposed two very large breasts that didn't seem like they ought to belong to her. Thousands of tiny goosebumps erupted across their surface, protesting the frigid air inside the room. Obligingly she reached for a t-shirt and attempted to cover up. The first one she grabbed had shrunk in the wash. She couldn't fit her head through the neck so she picked up another one which proved to be smaller still.
It was frustrating work and her feet were getting colder, so she knelt, letting her generous rear warm her heels. She couldn't remember having such a big butt. Was that new too? If it was, it would have to wait in line behind the ominous creaking noise and the tiny pair of underwear that pinched mercilessly.
Holding the garment against her chest she could see the shirt was shrinking before her eyes. Its hem was retreating upwards, exposing a crevasse of creamy cleavage. And it was getting taut across the top where she was gripping the sleeves. White flecks started to appear on it, joined by larger chunks of plaster. Her head was pushing into the ceiling as easily as a finger pokes through a wet paper towel. And the rest of her was pressing the bed downwards. The creaking got louder.
Oh no! The entire room was shrinking! before she could act, the legs of the bed snapped, dumping the box spring and mattress onto the floor. Plaster rained down from the hole in the ceiling and Denise coughed, still unsure of what was happening (or why), but absolutely certain that it was going to be a terrible day.