This story contains massive milk filled breasts and some bondage.
Quick Pauline misadventure. Enjoy!
*****
Pauline was home alone watching tv. Not like she ever felt judged around Conor, but she felt a lot more comfortable not wearing a bra without anybody around. The freckled little farmer could rest her super swollen milk tanks on either side of her lap, using the couch to carry most of her dairy globes. She still wore her giant milk pads, but the only other covering she had up top was a half buttoned flannel. Her fat ass stretched some accommodating jeans, almost sitting on the remote at her side.
Conor had gone out on a little adventure of his own, a quest to help a friend from out of town. It was a little iffy whether Conor was hoping to bang her or not, but as long as he was romantically faithful to herself, Pauline didn't mind one bit. It did mean, however, that Pauline would need a different kind of scratching post to reach that itch between her thighs. It was hard to tell what kind of adventure she could get up to herself. Usually the universe would throw her into some sexual chaos. Not that she actively looked for men besides Conor, it just happened to be convenient at times when he wasn't around. But like most days this would probably be a quiet evening.
Police sirens from town were slowly approaching her home. She walked up to the window out of boredom, very little else to do. From the window, she noticed a few police cars chasing a fancy cadillac. It was pretty plain, another day another crook she guessed, until the car broke off the road. The cadillac screeched to a halt, grinding over the road and sliding into Pauline's poor summer grass.
"Damnit!" she cursed him. Why'd he have to mess up her lawn?
Then the man got out. He was big, an intimidating man dressed in black with a ski mask and his hands full. One arm carried a strange metal box while the other held some dark tool - a gun it seemed! Every moment made Pauline panic more and more. Now he'd run up to her door, just as the cops were reaching the farm.
"Open up!" the man's gravelly voice boomed.
"Uh - no!"
Pauline ran to her rifle, hanging in the middle of her living room. She reached for it but recoiled at the sound of a gunshot. The criminal had shot her lock, busting through the door.
"Freeze!" he yelled.
Pauline held her hands up. It took some work with her heavy chest but she got back to her feet and looked to her trespasser. Even with the ski mask, she could tell he was staring at her breasts, a look of great confusion on his face.
"Freeze!" came voices from behind. Pauline recognized the officers who'd come to save her and felt a wave of relief wash over.
The man turned back and kicked the door shut. It didn't stay closed, as the whole latch had been mangled by his bullet. He cursed at the men outside through the crack and threw the safe down. All the while his pistol was trained on Pauline.
"Alright, no sudden moves - here's what you're gonna do:"
***
There in her laundry room the two hid, Pauline bound and gagged by some rope and her own clothes. Inside the two sat, not sharing a word, occasionally staring at each other, trying to block out the constant sound of police sirens. More cars had come, Pauline guessed, as the sounds had picked up in volume.
"Mr. Roper!" a megaphone called to the house, "We have the house surrounded, please come out with your hands up! Failure to do so will require further action on our behalf and we don't wanna hurt anybody, not even you! Please!"
Mr. Roper made no attempt to move outside. This was the second message the police had thrown his way and he was not interested in surrendering himself.
It did seem to stress him out though. The criminal slunk down the wall, face in his hands. He clutched the gun and its trigger with a dangerous amount of force, close to firing into the ceiling. After some sort of revelation, he got up, took in a deep sigh, and looked around Pauline's house. He didn't dare enter the living room out of fear he'd be shot or something, but it wasn't as if there was much in the rooms available either. Nothing useful in the bathroom, a lot of useless junk in the bedroom, and Pauline's extra large shirts didn't seem like they'd be any extra help.
There he stood over Pauline. His eyes definitely glanced over her chest, but it looked like he was sizing her up rather than enjoying the view. She definitely wasn't in modest dress, but he seemed to have a lot of other things on his mind. Mr. Roper then bent over, pointing the gun at her again.
"Listen, uh... whoever you is... I saw the name 'Pauline' around, that's ya name huh?"
Pauline looked between Mr. Roper's face and his gun. The only other body language she gave him were angry eyebrows.
"Ok fine, fuck you, you're udders now, ya like that huh?"
She just rolled her eyes. Mr. Roper decided to put his gun on her dryer - it didn't seem like he needed it to keep her in check, and she certainly wasn't taking him any more seriously with it. He looked around for a moment before taking his mask off.
"Sorry, just a little stressed, uh, Pauline. Real unkind to make fun a ya condition or whatever. I'm Saul."
It wasn't clear what Saul was expecting but Pauline just kept glaring at him.
"Look... I didn't mean ta fuck up ya day. I'm not exactly in a good place either right now, ya feel me?"
Pauline scoffed through the gag.
"Ok shut up!" He stomped his foot and grabbed the gun again. "Y'know I don't have to explain shit to you, ya bitchy hick! You wouldn't understand anyways, you got ya farm here, big stupid checks comin your way, got enough stupd money to get ya big stupid implants-"
She shook her head 'no'. Saul stopped and gave her a big smile.
"Ya kiddin me, right? Like hell, these don't even look like implants, just them plastic fakes."
He nudged her areola. Pauline shook her body to move away from his gun, protesting through her gag. He kept poking her with the weapon, chuckling at her discomfort.
"Hehehe... yeah no way girly, boobs don't grow that big. Anyways-" Saul buried his face in his hands again and paced in a circle. "I'm pretty fucked. Shoulda never broke in, now I can't go ta jail cuz they'll nevah let me out."
Pauline said something through her gag.
"Wha- oh, shut up. You gotta plan for me?"
She nodded her head 'yes'.
"Alright, alright, love to here what my little captive has to say. 'Turn myself in' right? I ungag ya and ya tell me that I'm gonna punch ya, here me?"
No response.
Saul decided letting Pauline talk wouldn't present any kind of danger to him, if anything he could talk to somebody besides himself in what many would call a moment of weakness. He undid the gag and backed up, waiting. Pauline stretched her jaw a little before talking.
"Hi." she said.
"Hi to you too." he replied.
"Ok, first of all, fuck you for all this, like honestly-"
"I'M SORRY!" Saul shouted. A look of pain and anger stretched across his face. "What was I supposed to do?! I'm on the run, cops on me-"
"Why were they on you, huh? That metal box?" she nodded to his strange container. It looked a lot like a safe, but much more crude.
