Ceroba strides through the corridors of the Steamworks, her golden bell jingling softly with each step. Cradled in the depths of her cleaveage, you, shrunk to the size of an insect, start to complain about her chest bouncing so much.

“The bouncing is too much?” Ceroba retorts with a sharp glance downward, her voice tinged with annoyance. “Well, I’m not gonna walk slower.”

She adjusts your placement, her fingers brushing over you before returning to her side.

“You wouldn’t have that problem if you didn’t drink the pink stuff against my advice, just because it looked tasty.” she muttered, the irritation clear in her tone. Her ears twitch as she continues.

“And now you’re stuck like this because it shrunk you. Honestly, the nerve.” her eyes narrow, looking down at you.

“Now, stop complaining, or I’ll stuff you somewhere less comfy."