[EARLY ACCESS] SHRINK IMPACT | GENSHIN IMPACT - CHAPTER 42

You and Mona barely had time to scream as Ningguang’s shadow swallowed you whole. 

The light winked out as Ningguang’s curvy form began to descend, her golden silks riding scandalously high up her thighs, each step wafting more of her expensive, powdery perfume over you—rich with florals and musk, mingling with the subtle, sultry warmth of her bare skin. 

For an instant, time seemed to slow: you stared up in awe and dread at the smooth, flawless undercurve of her thighs, and the tantalizing reveal of her attire. She wasn’t wearing the expected slip or layered undergarments. It was nothing that modest.

Instead, you glimpsed a sheer, delicate thong, the string riding deep between her cheeks and leaving nearly all of her soft skin exposed. The pale fabric was nearly invisible against her complexion, clinging to the plush roundness of her hips, vanishing into the deep shadow where her cheeks met.

Your eyes followed the gentle dip and swell of her body, the thong accentuating every curve, the valley between her cheeks impossibly vast from your vantage point. The silk of her robe barely shielded her, bunched and parted high on her hips, giving you a fleeting, intimate view that few people would ever see.

She didn’t just sit—she settled, hips rolling forward in one graceful, practiced motion that brought her full weight down in the center of the chair, and directly atop you and Mona. 

In that instant, the light and sound of the room were smothered by the sheer reality of her body: the plush, slick heat of her crack enveloping you both, the impossibly soft flesh yielding at first, then pressing back with the weight of a mountain.

The thin thong pressed flat over your head and torso, the tension pulling the fabric so tight you could feel the stitching drag over your cheek as the flesh of Ningguang’s cheeks closed in from both sides. Mona was mashed at your side, her breath hot and ragged, her whimper muffled as her face ended up crammed under the gentle swell of Ningguang’s right cheek, her broken leg stuck against the thong’s string.

Yet again, another claustrophobic, dangerous scenario.

Everything was heat, musk, velvet, and weight. The air grew stifling—thick with the sweet, faintly spicy aroma of Ningguang’s skin, her sweat pooling in the deep shadow of her valley, soaking the fabric and beading onto your own bare skin. 

Each breath you took filled your lungs with her scent, electric and dizzying, laced with that subtle, salty taste of skin and silk that clung to your lips and tongue.

There was a musky undercurrent to it all too, a kind of subtle stench that reminded you of exactly where you were, and what you were close to.

Ningguang, for her part, was serene, unhurried. She crossed one long leg over the other, hips shifting, cheeks squishing and spreading around you, the thong vanishing deeper and mashing your bodies into the living, humid cleft. 

Above, her robes rustled as she bent forward, sliding a stack of documents across the desk, her delicate fingers sorting through correspondence from the Qixing and various trade envoys. Her voice hummed softly as she read, lips pursed in thought, utterly oblivious to the frantic life-and-death struggle happening beneath her.

Every movement of Ningguang’s hips was a seismic event at your scale. Her cheeks flexed and rolled, the heat intensifying with each subtle squeeze as she adjusted her seat—sometimes rocking side to side, grinding the plush mass of her rear against you, sometimes lifting herself a hair’s breadth off the wood only to drop back down with a bounce that made your teeth rattle. 

The thong, now thoroughly wedged into her crack, dragged you and Mona up with it with every little shift, forcing you closer together, your faces pressed into the slick, musky warmth where skin met silk.

The air grew thicker, sweatier. Drops gathered along Ningguang’s skin, trickling down the curve of her rear, pooling beneath you, soaking you through. The taste of her was everywhere—salt and perfume, the earthy, womanly musk that left your skin tingling, the air heavy with the intimate aroma of a body at rest and in power. 

Mona’s hand found yours in the darkness, slick with sweat and fear, her whimpers shuddering through your chest as she struggled for breath.

You tried to call out, but your voice was a pathetic, wordless gasp, muffled by the smothering press of flesh and thong. Your entire body was molded to the shape of her crack, crushed between the yielding walls, every twitch or tremor from above threatening to suffocate you further. 

You felt Mona shift, trying to squirm free, only to have Ningguang’s cheeks clench unconsciously, trapping her even tighter, the thong pinning her chest.

You could only imagine what Ningguang was thinking—no doubt reviewing paperwork, perhaps glancing absently at her reflection in a gilded hand-mirror, or jotting a note for her next council meeting. To her, the warmth and pressure at her core were nothing more than comfort—a subtle, private luxury, entirely unremarkable. 

She sighed contentedly, rolling her shoulders, and the ripple traveled down through her body, squeezing you even more firmly between those impossibly soft, powerful curves.

Minutes dragged on. The sweat grew heavier. Your bodies slipped and slid against the slick skin, the heat mounting to an unbearable pitch. The thong, wet and nearly transparent, offered no separation—just another thing to be trapped against, to suffocate under.

Desperation gave you strength. Inch by inch, you began to worm your way along the fabric, dragging yourself up the taut line of the thong toward the faintest sliver of cool air at the edge of her cleft. The friction was maddening. Each movement left you trembling, skin raw, but you pressed on.

You heard Mona whimper, felt her try to follow. But her injured leg and the rolling squeeze of Ningguang’s flesh kept her pinned, wedged deep into the plush darkness. Still, you tried to pull her along with you if you could.

Then, without warning, the world shifted. Ningguang straightened, rising smoothly from the chair, her hips arching, cheeks flexing as the thong pulled you higher, until—at last—you burst free, tumbling into the open, precious air. You gasped, rolling onto the wood, heart pounding, limbs shaking.

For a moment you were relieved.

“We did it!” you gasped. Then realized, Mona wasn’t with you.

You looked back in horror. Mona, struggling desperately, was just reaching the edge of that living canyon when Ningguang’s cheeks clenched and her thong rode up even higher, the soft flesh sealing around Mona’s tiny, writhing form. As she stood up suddenly, her cheeks consumed the tiny girl.

With a casual sweep of her robes, Ningguang simply swallowed her whole, her body vanishing into the deep, shadowed warmth as the silk fell into place.

Ningguang, unaware, smoothed her dress, turned, and strode from the room, her curves jiggling with each regal step, Mona’s fate sealed between her powerful cheeks—lost in darkness, sweat and silk.