As Angela descended the stairs she could hear Cindy groan in frustration.
"Hold up," she muttered. "Mom's drunk and creepy again." Another, male voice whispered something inaudible. Angela paused halfway between floors. Cindy had her boyfriend over. She didn't remember his name. Dan? Seth? Xavier? Whatever. What mattered was that he wasn't bad-looking, but was over the legal age of consent. Through the drunken fog in her head, Angela concocted a plan.
"Actually, never mind!" she shouted, "I have to...um...slip into something more comfortable and get looking presentable for ouru guest. You kids have fun."
She stomped back up the stairs, accentuating the noise of her steps, and walked back to her room to grab a hand mirror from her makeup kit. Then, as silently as she could, Angela crept back down to the first floor and listened in on her prey's conversation.
"--what was that about?" asked Cindy's boyfriend.
"This happens sometimes," said Cindy, clearly relieved. "She forgot you were coming over and didn't have time to get ready. Odds are she's just gonna pass out on the bed in a few minutes."
"Oh, um..." said the boyfriend.
"Never mind. The good news is that we've got time now, and I heard you say something about 'Netflix and chill.'" Angela could hear a streaming app open and audio begin to play. Now was her chance. With the exaggerated care of the moderately drunk, she tiptoed towards her living room.
In a stroke of luck, the Heartfield's couch was angled away from the living room's entrance to face the TV. In an even greater stroke of luck, Cindy was sat closest to the entrance, unaware and exposed to any, say, unscrupulous people carrying a ray gun. She held up the hand mirror, centering its field of view on Cindy. Angela closed one eye, held her breath, pressed the "S" button on the remote, angled it at the mirror, and held down the fire button.
The effect was immediate. Cindy barely noticed that she was shrinking at first, but then let out a scream. Her boyfriend jumped back, eyes locked on her. "What's wrong?!"
"I don't know!" yelped Cindy. She gripped at her dwindling body, hands closing in on clothes that were far too loose for her. "I'm...what the hell, I'm shrinking!"
"What should I do?! should I call for your mom?"
"NO!" screamed Cindy. Her head was level with her boyfriend's navel now, and Angela could tell that she had stood up to reach that height. Angela grinned and kept holding the fire button. "She already makes fun of me for being small, I can't let her see me like this! Just help me!"
"How?!"
"I don't know," whimpered Cindy. She was standing naked on the overstuffed couch cushion, surrounded on all sides by the neck hole of her T-shirt. Angela suppressed a giggle. By now, her daughter was nearly too small to see from this angle; she would even make it up to Angela's ankles.
With a malignant grin, Angela let go of the fire button. Then, after some thought, she pressed the "G" button and pumped her breasts up a little bit more. Had to look good for the guest after all, and it was time to make her grand entrance
"Did I hear something?" she asked, striding around the corner. Cindy whimpered.
"Mrs. Heartfield!" shouted the unnamed boy. "Cindy's--um." He looked up, eyes locking on Angela's titanic exposed chest. She hooded her eyes and raised her eyebrows.
"Where is she?" asked Angela, faux ignorance dripping off every word, "I see her clothes, but not her. Don't tell me you two got busy before I came down to share in the fun."
"No!" said the young man, panic momentarily supplanting confused lust. "She just started...shrinking? How does that even happen--wait what do you mean 'share--'". Angela strode up to the boy and placed a finger over his lips, bending over as she did so. He shut up, doubtlessly stunned by seeing tits larger than his head.
"Shhh. I believe you. She was always so small," said Angela, relishing Cindy's frustrated groan coming from below, "I knew it was only a matter of time before she started shrinking." She looked down at the seemingly-empty shirt lying on the couch cushion and reached inside until she felt something warm, struggling, and small. She pulled her daughter out and raised her to eye level. Cindy stood on Angela's palm, barely the size of a child's Lego figure.
"Mom!" shouted Cindy. "I don't know what happened, what do I do?!" She took a series of ragged, panicked breaths. Angela nodded, putting on the best faux-concern she could muster.
"Well, we should probably get you somewhere safe," she said. "Just until we find out what happened." She carried Cindy into the kitchen, set the remote on the granite countertop, and opened the medicine cabinet. "Somewhere where a big, nasty ant couldn't get you." She rummaged inside and found a prescription pill bottle. It had a single painkiller left from when Cindy had her wisdom teeth removed.
"Um, mom? What are you doing with my old Vicodin?" asked Cindy
"Nothing, honey," said Angela. With her free hand, she pressed on the tab of the child-proof cab and opened the bottle, dumping the pill onto the counter and popping Cindy into the pill bottle unceremoniously. Over the squeaky protests of her daughter, Cindy closed the cap, locking it in place. With that done, she placed the pill bottle back into the cabinet.
"Mrs. Heartfield?" said a voice from behind Angela. She turned around. Cindy's boyfriend had followed her into the kitchen. Angela batted her eyes at him.
"Yes, dear?"
"Cindy's gonna suffocate in there." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Swiss Army Knife. "She's gonna need air holes or she'll die."
"Oh, such a helpful young man!" gushed Angela, leaning over to take the knife. She folded out an awl, withdrew her daughter's pill bottle from the cabinet and drilled some air holes in it, placing the bottle back inside when she was finished. There. Now at least one daughter wouldn't be interrupting her. She scooped the remote off the counter. "Well, that's all we can do for now." She turned around to face the nameless young man (Paul? She thought he looked like a Paul), whose jaw was once again beginning to slacken as he saw Angela's expansive bosom.
"Um, Mrs. Heartfield, you're still um--" Angela grinned and gave herself a pulse of the growth ray as she stepped forward. The world shrank around her as her eyes grew level with Paul (yeah, definitely Paul).
"But you poor thing! You haven't even finished your date!" Another step forward, another pulse. She could see over the top of his head now. "But I think I can fix that." She let out a closed-mouth giggle. "Just go back to the couch." Definitely-Paul took a step backwards.
"Um, shouldn't we see if we can help your--" Angela rolled her eyes and gave herself another sustained pulse. Definitely-Paul started to crane his head upwards to meet her gaze. God, she was more than a head taller than him now!
"Go. Back. To. The. Couch," she commanded, her voice dropping half an octave. Dumbfounded, the boy did as he was told. He stood, petrified, in front of the sofa as Angela stalked after him. She strode into his field of view and shook her head.
"Darling," she cooed. "This next step is easier if you sit down." She placed her hands on shoulders and pressed downwards, gently but firmly forcing him into a seated position. "That's better." Angela straddled his lap and sat down, relishing the bulge she could feel. She leaned forward, wedging his head into the valley of her cleavage. "Now, aren't these so much better than Cindy's?"
"Mmf!" protested Definitely-Paul. Angela let out a throaty chuckle as she began to grind her body up and down on her new conquest. She licked her lips as she felt his head bobbing within her cleavage.
"Well, Paulie? What do you think? Cindy just looks flat by comparison, now doesn't she?"
"Mm nmm Drk" he replied. Angela leaned backwards and angled her chest downwards, pressing her breasts into his torso. She gazed at them and marveled how they nearly dwarfed his entire chest, when Definitely-Paul caught his breath.
"I said my name's Derek," he muttered as he began to find the initiative to struggle. His wriggling body pressed against the crotch of Angela's strained yoga pants, rubbing her soaking pussy. She reared her head backwards and moaned; it was so much more fun with him starting to fight her. She gazed at Definitely-Not-Paul-But-Actually-Derek, stroking his face with her free hand.
"Oh, Derek," she whispered. "I don't really care about what my sex toys call themselves. They just need to get me off." She hooked a thumb into Actually-Derek-But-Who-Cares' waistband and undid his belt in one swift motion. "I'm so glad that I shrank Cindy for this."
"You--you--" gasped Derek as he began to struggle in earnest. His eyes locked on the remote in dawning comprehension and he snatched at it. Angela pulled it out of the way just in time.
"Oh no," she cooed. "And here I thought my daughter was just dating a dumb teenage boy. Such a shame." She shook her head and pressed herself down into Derek's terrified erection, forcing him into the couch as he struggled to get out from underneath her. She held the remote out of his reach. "But I do like it when you struggle. It's like you think you have a chance to get away."
"Let--me--go!" grunted Derek.
"Once I'm done with you, dear." Angela laughed. "My, my, you're such a rude young man. Didn't your mother teach you to let giant-titted Amazons have their way with you?" Derek said nothing as he tried to escape. "Well, I suppose I'll have to teach you instead."
She shuddered in pleasure and anticipation. She knew what she'd do next. She...
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