Chapter 10

“Sixteen…thousand dollars,” Warren answered, looking down at his dinner. He was surprised at his quick willingness to admit how overboard he had gone in his purchases, but somehow, Irina’s presence on the edge of his bed, with her big, busty body gently sagging his mattress, made him feel reassured in conceding the truth. Besides, the dozens upon dozens of outfits were going to be arriving at the house by express delivery in a matter of hours anyway, so he figured that he may as well tell Irina what to expect — the truth was going to inevitably come out anyway.

Irina felt her jaw slacken a little as she stared at Warren, unmoving, for several long moments, taking in the fact that he had spent that much money on her in a few mere minutes of online shopping. As she watched Warren shrink and dwindle so dramatically in front of her over the past few weeks, it was easy for her to forget that he was ridiculously rich, the sole inheritor of the lucrative Du Pont fortune. While it was true that the extensive mansion around them served as a constant reminder of this wealth, Irina had begun to see the estate not as Warren’s house, the house that she was responsible for cleaning, but rather…HER house, the house that she took care of, the mansion that she lived in with the shrinking little man who she fed, coddled, and protected. To hear that Warren had just spent that much money on her was a bit of a jolt for Irina for those few moments, but fairly quickly, the knowledge sank into her bones and caused a cozy, erotic warmth to spread across her body.

“Warren,” breathed Irina, sidling up the bed, closer to him, so that she could loom a little over him as she spoke softly, “That’s so sweet of you. All that money, spent on me?”

“W-well yes!” answered Warren, feeling his heart quicken as Irina’s big body got closer to him. “I thought…I thought that you, uh…d-deserved it, since…s-since you’ve been doing such a good j—”

“Shhhh, shhhhhhh,” whispered Irina, extending her hand out to pet his cheek. She enjoyed watching him struggle to get his words out, but she could see that he was already getting a little red in the face, stressing himself out. Also, even though Warren was unquestionably in a submissive position, lying there in his bed, under his covers, in her shadow, the words he was actually saying were a little too…authoritative for him to be saying. Irina knew that he didn’t mean anything by it, and that it was just from habit, but even still, him saying that she “deserved” the clothes because of the “job” she was doing was a bit too silly for Irina to hear, coming from him.

“You don’t have to explain why you spent that much, Warren,” Irina continued, petting his soft cheek with her long finger. “I know why you did. Heheh…you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“I…n-no, I couldn’t,” admitted Warren, bowing his head a little as his eyes fluttered in pleasure. Just the feeling of Irina’s warm finger on his cheek made him hard under his bedcovers, and his mouth opened a little as he exhaled a quick, hot breath in arousal. He already felt silly for even pretending that he had bought Irina all those clothes because of the “good job” she had been doing as his housekeeper.

“Mmmmm, why don’t you go ahead and eat some more of that pot pie,” advised Irina, taking her finger away and reaching down to lightly squeeze his thigh under the sheets. Both of them looked down with wide eyes. Irina couldn’t believe how small his legs had become. Her hand wrapped around his limb much more than she expected, to the point where she was fairly sure that she could have manhandled his leg with her arm without too much effort. Warren likewise felt her fingers wrapping around his upper thigh and squeezing, and he had to make an effort not to moan or squeak out in arousal. Her hand, her arm…they were just so big, so effortlessly strong, that it was difficult for him not to just ogle her body in totally abandoned arousal. But she had told him to eat, and so he bent his head down, timidly spooning the delicious dinner into his mouth.

They both turned silently towards the TV, which was playing a political talk show in which two buxom, curvaceous women were speaking animatedly, clearly going at it, trying to talk over each other. In between them, an older female moderator was sitting, a slight smile on her face as she watched the energetic conversation go back and forth.

“You wanna watch a little more of the news, hrmm?” asked Irina kindly, as she pivoted a little on the bed, sidling up even closer, so that she was now actually sitting next to him. “It’s ok…I’m here…nothing to worry about. I’m actually curious how things have been going on in the world, aren’t you?”

“Y-yeah,” said Warren, feeling the immense size of Irina’s body pressing into the mattress next to him. She had become so big that he actually felt his own small, skinny body sliding down into the indentation that her large ass had created in the mattress. His body slid down and gently bumped into hers, causing Irina to laugh softly, even as she felt herself become powerfully aroused.

‘Easy…’ she thought to herself, ‘Take it…easy…slow…bit by bit…don’t overwhelm the poor boy. Not yet.’

She thought of Sarah, and felt that the nurse would surely be proud of her restraint in this situation. But even still, Irina knew that she wouldn’t be able to help touching Warren for too much longer. She could almost feel a kind of magnetic energy field that surrounded their bodies, pulling them together.

Irina took the remote and turned up the volume, right as Aly Singleton, the young blond reporter, was vigorously making her point across the table.

“You’re seriously telling me,” Aly was saying animatedly, “That men SHOULDN’T be able to choose their caretaker!? You’re actually suggesting, if I’m not mistaken, that men should NOT have the right to petition to be reassigned to a new caretaker if they feel uncomfortable? I’m hearing that right!? Because if you’re actually suggesting that, then don’t you realize that you’re just serving as a shameless mouthpiece, spouting this crazy right-wing propaganda that is actively endangering the lives of countless little men who are trapped in abusive caretaking relationships!? How can you possibly say that this hasn’t been an ENORMOUS problem so far in this pandemic? There are DOZENS of accounts of helpless men who have anonymously reported their abuse to the authorities, and you’re saying we should just do NOTHING??”

“Ooooo, looks like we tuned in at just the right moment!” laughed Irina, snuggling her curvy body up against Warren in bed.

“That’s Aly Singleton,” mumbled Warren sheepishly, pointing at the screen. “I…I’ve been watching her for awhile.”

“Awww, you’ve got a little crush on her, don’t you?” teased Irina, reaching down and scratching his head with her big hand.

“I…uhhh, heh…m-maybe,” admitted Warren, grinning a little.

“Well she IS very pretty,” remarked Irina. “But so is this other woman, her opponent — let’s see what she’s saying.”

The opposing woman began countering from the other side of the table. She had jet-black long hair, and was just as big, tall, and busty as Aly was. Irina couldn’t help but think that these women both had to be over seven feet tall.

“As usual, Aly has totally misconstrued my argument for her own purposes. And let me be clear, those purposes have their own end-goals — obviously, Aly is arguing the typical radical leftwing socialist position that shamelessly supports the male separatist movement, a movement, by the way, which has resulted in hundreds, if not THOUSANDS of sick, scared, tiny men, living in squalid shanytown communities by themselves, all under the guise of “liberation” and “self-sustainability.” Have you ever visited one of these communities, Aly? Well I have, and I can tell you that there’s NOTHING good going on there. A bunch of shrunken, sick little men, barely scraping by, without any women to look after them…and for what? To preserve the outdated illusion of patriarchal structures? I would expect a leftist like Aly to be the first to condemn the — ”

“Now wait just a minute!” interrupted Aly, her huge breasts squishing against the table as she leaned forward angrily. “I’m not gonna let you bait me like that Ella! Don’t pretend this is about “patriarchal structures,” or whatever nonsense you’re cooking up. It’s beside the point — no one is arguing that men don’t need protection. What I’m saying is that we should —”

“Now, now hold on, Aly,” said the moderator, putting her hand in the air in a “stop” motion, “Ella was just making her point — let her finish.”

“Thanks Julie, said Ella smartly, “Aly, you can carry on with the advertisement for your new book in a second. Now the point I was making — ”

“OH, is THAT where we’re going!?” cut in Aly, her eyebrows going up challengingly.

“Hold on Aly — hold on!” chuckled Julie, “Put a pin in that until she finishes her point.”

“The POINT I was making,” repeated Ella, smiling, “Is that Aly is dressing up some isolated incidents as an actual systemic problem that needs to be addressed. No such problem, on a large scale, exists at all! I grant you there have been isolated incidents of men being…badly treated, let’s say..but nothing that points to any need for this huge all-encompassing national database for men to formally lodge complaints! Everyone knows that delirium is one of the most common eventual symptoms of the Whipple Virus! These leftwing social justice warriors want every single delirious hallucination from a population of sick, helpless men to be officially registered and considered by government employees! Think of the bureaucratic nightmare! Think of the resources that would be wasted! All in the name of promoting so-called “equality.” Well I’ve got news for you, Aly, this phantom “equality” you’re talking about is a pipe dream. It’s total and utter insanity, and yet another example of how far the Left will go to champion government overreach.”

“Ohhh they’re reaally going at it, aren’t they?” chuckled Irina. She realized that she had starting stroking Warren’s hair as they watched TV — it was startling for her to realize that she had started doing this without even realizing, and she very nearly stopped. But looking down on Warren, she could see the little tent that his erect cock was making in the bedsheets around his crotch — she felt another warm, golden wave of arousal pass over her. No, she wouldn’t stop stroking his hair; this was perfect. She was slowly, surely, indicating with her body, with her actions, that she was in charge. Ever so slightly, she pivoted her body close to him, so that her big, engorged breasts were pressing gently but firmly into his body. She heard Warren inhale in a shaky, stuttering breath, and she smiled to herself. It was almost too much fun, and she had to constantly remind herself not to take it too fast, remembering Sarah’s words.

“Aly?” quipped Julia Winters, clearly enjoying egging on her news partner in the debate, “Are you gonna take that from Ella? What’s your response?”

“Oh well of COURSE we’re gonna hear that kind of drivel from one of the most prominent Big Business spokeswomen,” snapped Aly sarcastically.

“HERE we go!” responded Ella, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t even try and deny it Ella!” exclaimed Aly, shaking her head. “Yeah, all this talk of “government overreach,” when you actively are representing private companies that are making a PROFIT off of cages and…and LEASHES for men, many of whom are trapped in abusive households. Ella is totally twisting the truth — never in my life have I EVER said that I’m promoting some crazy idea of “equality” here. She can’t possibly claim that I’m saying such a thing. Typical strawman argument — NO ONE is suggesting that men are EQUAL, ok? Let’s just get that one out of the way first. It’s CLEAR that men are smaller, weaker, and constitutionally unfit to make decisions themselves…especially men in the advanced stages of the Whippple Virus.”

“Which inevitably will be the trajectory for EVERY MAN!” noted Ella loudly.

“Which…well, we’re not sure about that yet, so let’s not make sweeping statements before we know for certain they’re true,” corrected Aly.

“Oh please, that recent study from the New England Journal of Medicine,” began Ella.

“Which is STILL in the process of getting peer-reviewed!” cut in Aly, her curvaceous body jiggling alluringly as she shook her finger at her opponent across the table. “And anyway, the point is that LOTS of men still have SOMETHING approaching the presence of mind to recognize abuse when they experience it.”

“It’s not ABUSE!” shouted Ella. “It’s the NATURAL ORDER of things, Aly!!”

“Go sell some more LEASHES!” thundered Aly back at her.

“At least I wasn’t caught BREASTFEEDING my own partner on the SUBWAY!” yelled Ella.

“OH we’re going THERE??” relied Aly, her eyes flashing dangerously, “He was HUNGRY, and about to PASS OUT! Why don’t you let Channel 5 into your house, to give them a nice little tour of your HAREM that you’re keeping in your basement!? Care to DENY it, Ella??”

“Ok! Hahaha OK ladies!” laughed Julia Winters, clearly satisfied with how the debate was going as she spoke over the two voluptuous, sparring women. “We’re gonna leave it at that for now, and cut over to another segment here — Laura?”

“Boy, that was funny!” laughed Irina, messing up Warren’s hair as she ruffled it playfully. “These cable news debates always devolve into shouting matches, don’t they?”

“W-well…I think…Aly was right,” mumbled Warren. He was still very much aroused, but the debate had once again awoken feelings of anxiety. It was hard to believe that these debates were actually happening. Companies selling cages and leashes for men!? It was all a bit hard to swallow.

“Ohhh of COURSE you’re gonna side with your crush!” teased Irina, reaching down and pinching Warren’s cheek affectionately. “For what it’s worth, I actually think that the other woman had a good point — if all these little men are delirious, then why should they waste government resources hearing every single claim of abuse? I mean, I’m not saying it doesn’t happen here and there — I’m sure it does — but couldn’t they use government resources in better, more targeted ways?”

“I…I’m not sure,” said Warren. His head was beginning to hurt, and his vision was starting to swim. He knew that this wasn’t another panic attack, but it did feel like his fever was increasing, though.

“Aw, too much political talk,” said Irina kindly, scratching his head one last time as she took his bowl away. “You need to get your rest. But not before you take your medicine!”

Warren didn’t know what he was in the mood for, and he definitely noticed how Irina had basically just told him that he was going to go to bed…she had essentially “put him to bed,” as the saying went. Like a mother to her son. Warren was immensely aroused by the idea, but there was still some resistance that was holding out inside him. He couldn’t help but think of all those men, living in their little shantytowns, trying desperately to salvage some sense of their own long-lost masculinity. It was sad, really…Irina was right. Those men shouldn’t be allowed to just…exist like that, out there by themselves. Still, though…

But Warren didn’t have too much time to think about it, because Irina was insisting on administering his medication tonight. And after she had done so, much to Warren’s pleasure, Irina remained in his bed, her big arm around him, as she rocked him steadily, back and forth, to sleep. He hadn’t even asked her to do it. It just kind of…happened that way.

“You don’t mind, do you Warren?” she cooed down at him, her big breasts squished up against his face as she softly rocked him back and forth, back and forth.

“No…not at all,” replied Warren, feeling the sleep overtake his eyes, even as his cock remained hard. A tiny part of his brain pricked up, asserting that there was something very, very wrong with this whole picture, but this instinct, or whatever it was, quickly became neutralized by Irina’s gentle voice, and the slow, steady, rocking pressure of her breasts against his cheek.

“I just want you to know,” whispered Irina to him in the darkness, “That what happened today will not EVER happen again. I won’t let you get hurt, Warren. You’re safe with me…safe….with me.”

Warren had never fallen asleep so quickly, and even when his breathing became light and shallow as he fell asleep, Irina didn’t leave him. She kept rocking his unconscious body back and forth as she sat there in the darkness, feeling something powerful gather around her in the gloom. Could it be that she was actively growing again? From the gentle pricks in her skin, and the slow, steady ache in her bones and muscles, she was SURE that she was. It was another full hour before she finally got up off the bed and left Warren sleeping away.

The next day, all of Irina’s clothes came, one by one, in packages, much to her delight. She made a show of trying them on in front of Warren, spinning around alluringly as she displayed the contours of her growing body to her ever-shrinking host. The next few days seemed to pass by in a kind of rapid-fire haze. Warren was more tired than usual, and generally kept to his bedroom. Irina made frequent visits upstairs, bringing Warren her hot, home-cooked meals. He had started losing size more rapidly, and three days later, his height had diminished all the way down to 4’10. Irina, for her part, was growing more rapidly — she was 6’2 now, and with the addition of the new, stylish 4-inch heels she had taken to (among the other pairs of heels Warren had bought), she rose up to a towering 6’6, a full 20 inches taller than Warren. The top of his head barely reached her nipples now, and when he was standing in front of her, Warren was desperately aroused (and scared) to realize that he was staring straight into the top of Irina’s stomach.

“Goodness!” exclaimed Irina one night after measuring him, “That’s accelerated shrinking, for sure.”

“Is…is that bad?!” asked Warren anxiously, his little body shaking. He had just stepped off a scale that said he weighed a mere 78 pounds.

“Well Sarah…that nurse, remember, said that this accelerated shrinking is part of the Whipple Virus’s trajectory,” reassured Irina in a calm voice, bending down to stroke his face again as she smiled at him. “So no, it’s not bad, Warren. Heheh, I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help but be a little surprised by…how small you’ve gotten. I’m still getting used to it too, especially, well…ha, especially considering how much bigger I’ve become.”

“Y-yeah, I’ve…I’ve noticed that too,” said Warren, feeling his face get hot again. Just standing there, with Irina looming over him, her breasts ABOVE his head, and her gently-inflating stomach in front of his face, made Warren feel weaker than usual…weak with arousal and lust. It had occurred to him that even if he had the gall to reach up and try and suckle one of her nipples, he wouldn’t be able to do it, even on his tiptoes.

Irina was inwardly churning herself. The past few days had felt like a kind of slow boil to her, a slow, simmering boil of erotic energy that was now threatening to overflow completely. There he was, 4’10, 78 pounds, standing there in front of her, almost 2 feet below her, and well under HALF her weight. He was just standing there, waiting…waiting…for her to put him to bed like she had been, rocking him back and forth, back and forth.

But suddenly, Irina decided that she was going to do something else tonight.

“Hey Warren,” she cooed down at him, “Go start a bath.”

“Uhh…w-why?” he asked, feeling a surge of excitement, even as he felt anxiety around her answer.

“Because,” she cooed down at him, bending down so that her breasts swung down gently playfully on top of his head, “I wanna bathe you.”