Chapter 12

Irina was conscious of her instinctual need to get Warren out of the hot bathwater. She didn’t know why he had suddenly slipped into a delirium, but she knew that it had happened in the bath, and that he had seemingly been ok before. But that was all she knew…maybe it had just been happenstance…maybe it had been coming on already, and the hot water accelerated the process. Either way, Irina had snapped to after the powerful wave of her orgasm had subsided, and she had lifted Warren up out of the water, cradling him in her arms like he was a small child.

The whole time, she had been sure not to move his head, so that his thin lips continued to suckle on her engorged nipple. Irina moved slowly, deliberately, conscious of every breath and movement she made, and the whole time, she was laser-focused on Warren’s little face, his eyes closed, sucking away on a nipple that was now straining his mouth wide open. And then she saw it — his little cock, completely erect, twitching in the air. Irina’s eyes widened slightly and she couldn’t help but blow out a breath of hot air at the sight.

“Oh my goddddd,” she breathed to herself, quiet but out loud. She badly wanted to touch his little dick, to engulf it in her huge, warm hand, to pump it gently up and down until she made it burst. She had never felt an urge like this before; somehow, it was connected to her previous urge to guide Warren’s little mouth to her swollen nipple. It was all about taking care of him, and right now, his purpling cock looked like it desperately needed release.

‘No…no I can’t,’ she thought to herself, turning back to look at Warren’s delirious face as she began wrapping him in a huge, soft warm towel that she had prepared nearby. ‘He’s basically unconscious right now…I can’t just…just do something like THAT…without him knowing…can I!?’

Previously, it wouldn’t have even been a question in her mind, but now, Irina actually had to take a little time to talk herself into not jerking Warren off. His poor little cock just looked like it needed to be milked sooooo badly. But in the end, she managed to talk herself out of it, making a point to wrap Warren’s midsection (and a good deal of his torso as well) in the towel as she walked quickly towards his bedroom, carrying him the whole time. He hadn’t stopped suckling on her nipple, and his face was smeared with the white remnants of her milk that had flown forth faster than he could swallow.

As she got to the bedroom and laid Warren gently down on the bed, it suddenly occurred to Irina that she should measure him. Her clit twinged at the realization, and despite her most recent orgasm, she felt her vaginal walls lubricating themselves up again, in preparation for another climactic wave.

“No, I’ve gotta…I’ve gotta take his vitals…uhhh…those important things…uh, first,” she reminded herself, speaking out loud into the bedroom. She felt a swift and sudden sense of coziness envelop her, despite her continued worry over Warren’s condition. She had medical people…Sarah…on call if anything should go truly wrong, and in any case, it was clear that Warren was breathing ok. Despite his delirium, and his obvious shrinking spurt that had just happened, it was all to be expected in an advanced Whipple patient. Warren had been taking his medication — Irina had made sure of that — and so there was no real danger to his internal organs. She felt cozy because she was there for him. They were all alone in this big house, with all the necessary food and medical supplies they needed, and he was in HER hands. If Warren had come to in that moment, Irina would have taken immense pleasure in reassuring him that he was safe, as she compared the size of his little head to her gigantic bare breast next to it.

“Still, though…gotta be sure,” she muttered, and for the next minute, she proceeded to check Warren’s vitals, to make sure that nothing was dangerously wrong. His blood pressure was slightly elevated, but it had been that way for a couple weeks now, and mild hypertension was common in the first few weeks of Whipple infection. His fever, which was now 103.2, was a bit concerning, but Irina knew that it alone was enough to explain Warren’s delirium. She reminded herself to add in a nightly pill of haloperidol to Warren’s medication regimen, until his delirium subsided.

‘I shouldn’t have bathed him in hot water like that,’ Irina thought to herself, going to the medicine cabinet to fetch the bottle of haloperidol. ‘I didn’t know it’d exacerbate his fever.’ But she knew that she was self-chastising only for the self-charade. She knew that, if not for the bath, Warren wouldn’t have drifted off into delirium, wouldn’t have started suckling on her nipple…wouldn’t have called her “mommy.”

‘But surely…surely he didn’t actually mean it,’ Irina thought, coming back into the bedroom with the pill, kneeling softly by his bedside, and feeding it slowly into his mouth. Warren’s lips immediately responded again, puckering up to try and suck on the pill like it was a nipple.

“No…no Warren…look, it’s a pill…you need to take the pill,” said Irina patiently. “Come on now, in your mouth…that’s right…now swallow it…here’s a glass of water.”

Warren was still conscious, even though it was clear he didn’t really have a sense of what was going on around him. Irina made sure that he safely got the pill down without choking, but when she tried to have him drink a glass of water, he wouldn’t drink it properly. Instead, he started sucking on the edge of the glass.

‘He can wash it down with my milk,’ Irina thought at once. She didn’t need another excuse to guide her nipple back to his mouth, and a moment later she was sitting up in the bed next to him, his head cradled once more to her bosom, as he sucked away at her breast. Irina started breathing hard again as she blinked and looked around the bedroom. There was still a part of this whole thing that felt so wrong, so totally crazy, and yet Irina could tell that she was becoming increasingly comfortable in this new, intimate role.

‘I mean, look at him,’ she thought, staring down tenderly at Warren drinking down her milk, ‘Just LOOK at him…he couldn’t last long without me. He’d forget to take his medicine, or convince himself he didn’t need it, or he’d fall and hurt himself like he did before, or…or he’d get snatched up by one of those horny girls and enslaved in an awful harem…oh no, he’d get eaten alive…if not for me.’

She lovingly drew her long fingers through his hair as he suckled, smiling down at how warm and safe he looked, all wrapped up in his plush, white towel. Again, she had to fight off the urge to unwrap him and play with his penis, but just then, she remembered why she had gotten all excited before.

“Oh right…measuring him!” she whispered to herself, and she reached over to fetch the measuring tape from Warren’s nightstand. Measuring and checking body statistics were already nightly rituals that were medically necessary, but this time it was different. Irina had already measured Warren that night, and he had been 4’10, and clocked in at a mere 78 pounds. For her part, Irina had grown up to 6’2 (although she had measured herself in private that evening, like she always did), and she knew that she was probably about two-and-a-half times heavier than he was at this point…she weighed 192 pounds now, and a lot of it was in her breasts, her thick hips, and her huge ass.

But she had SEEN him shrinking in the bathtub…and she had literally FELT him getting smaller in her arms. Warren’s fever-induced delirium had apparently accelerated the virus’s shrinking effects in him, and on the flipside, its growing effects in her. Irina wondered whether she should take note of all this, to speak to Sarah about later on a purely medical basis, but right now, she wasn’t thinking about any of that. Instead, she was focused on carefully extending the tape measure out along Warren’s horizontal body. Her heart was thumping away in her chest, behind her vast breasts, as she slowly tightened the tape measure between her two hands. She didn’t need to marvel as to why she was feeling so excited — by now, she had subconsciously decided to fully embrace her arousal around the size difference between the two of them. The bigger she got, the more motherly and protective she could be with him…the better she could care for him, provide for him. And the smaller he got, the less he could resist her gentle, loving care, and the less he could go on pretending that he was “still a man.” In Irina’s mind, he was becoming, more and more, with each passing day, her baby.

She made sure to straighten out Warren’s thin little legs, which were poking out of his swaddling towel, to ensure that she made an accurate measurement. Even though Warren wasn’t anywhere close to “baby-size” yet, Irina wasn’t able to help goggling at how small he looked in her lap. The flesh from her breasts, her stomach, and her upper thighs all seemed to coalesce together, enveloping him, swallowing him up in its plush, pillowy softness.

When Irina saw the final measurement, she just stared at it for a long time, not looking away from the number, as her lips parted in shocked exhilaration. 111.76 centimeters…111.76!?!

“But that’s…” breathed Irina out loud, as she felt her cheeks flushing with fresh arousal, “That’s…” and here, she turned the tape measure over to the US units, which she was still getting used to.

“That’s UNDER four feet tall!” she whispered to herself. “He’s…3’8…oh my god…oh my goddddd!”

Irina could hardly take it anymore. Warren had shrunk by over a FOOT in the bathtub, as he had sucked down milk from her breast…and Irina, well…it only remained to be seen how much SHE had grown in the process. Her hands trembled as she lifted Warren up from her lap, and pulled him away from her nipple.

*Pop!*

His lips had been sucking so hard that they actually made a sound when Irina had gently pulled him away, and they went on puckering and searching, trying to find the nipple again. Irina exhaled out as she laid him gently back down on the bed. She didn’t want to stop breastfeeding him either, but she needed to measure herself, to see how much bigger she was than him now.

‘And besides,’ she thought to herself as she stood up against the wall, using her fingernail to mark where her head was as her heart continued to hammer away, ‘This won’t be the last time it’ll happen…he’s got a taste for my milk now…I can feel it.’

Irina was beginning to lose herself in a flurry of excitement, arousal, and thoughts for the future, and whether because of the combined tide of these thoughts, or the recent effects of the virus on her own body, she staggered slightly to the side as she stepped back from the wall.

“Oh! Whoops!” she exclaimed, laughing at herself a little as she stumbled into Warren’s heavy dresser. The huge piece of furniture gave way a good deal more than Irina was expecting, and she actually had to rush around and push the opposite side of it up again, to keep it from falling over.

“Wow…” she exhaled out loud, shaking her head as she caught her breath. “Am I really…that heavy!?”

Her vision swam a little before her eyes, but a couple deep breaths later she was back to normal. She had heard about slight dizziness happening in women who were infected with the Whipple Virus, particularly after a potent growth spurt.

“Well now let’s see…” she muttered eagerly, extending out the measuring tape from the floor to where she had marked her head on the wall. “Let’s see…how much…”

She was just over 195 centimeters. Irina gaped at the number, and then turned back to look at Warren lying on the bed. His delirium seemed to have already passed, and his little chest was rising and falling in steady rhythm as he slept away peacefully. Irina turned back around and looked at the number again. She didn’t even think to convert it to the 6’5 US measurement; instead, she was bending down to mark how tall Warren would look if he was standing next to her.

‘I can’t believe it,’ she thought bluntly. A crackling tendril of electricity was charging through her body as she imagined the comparison.

“He’d be at my hip,” she murmured out loud, drawing her palm up to the luscious curve of her left hip, right at where the top of Warren’s head would be. “I could…I could have my hand hanging all the way by my side, and then…and then just reach my hand out, like that…and palm his little head.”

It was an incredible thing to imagine. Irina couldn’t wait to actually experience the comparison in real life, with Warren actually awake, but she didn’t even consider waking him up. He had just been through a lot, and his fever was very high, and he needed a good night’s rest, to sleep off the effects of his delirium. But now, for the first time, Irina was going to spend the night with him…the entire night. Any question of ethics or her “proper role” as Warren’s housekeeper had now been completely thrown out the window. A deep, smoldering lust was burning in Irina now, a lust to feed Warren more of her milk, to feel his thin little body against the heavy, curvaceous weight of her own gently-overpowering flesh…to experience the full, thrilling reality of her new role over him, her motherly domination of his small, frail body.

“You want some more, don’t you?” she whispered down to his sleeping form as she slowly, gingerly lowered herself back down onto the bed. Her huge body created an instant crater in the mattress, into which Warren’s tiny, unconscious body slid, bumping up against the soft flesh of her big hip.

“Mmmmm, yesssss, that’s right,” she breathed down on him, lifting him up effortlessly in her soft arms and once more holding him to her bosom. “Come to Mommy….”

Twenty minutes later, Irina was about to reach over to turn off the light. She was deliciously exhausted after enjoying the rushing currents of more orgasms than she could count cascading through her. She usually needed manual stimulation to achieve orgasm when she was alone, but with Warren’s little mouth nursing at her breast, she found that she didn’t even need that. In a continuous repeat of what had happened in the bathtub, Irina found that her orgasms came unbidden. They were being drawn forth by the reality of what was happening, and the more Irina thought about it and cherished it, the harder she came. It turned into a fun little game, with her trying as hard as she could not to moan too loud, or shake or tremble when a particularly powerful orgasming wave coursed through her.

‘I can’t wake him up,’ she thought. ‘I can’t wake up the little baby…’

But one time, she wasn’t able to help it, and her loins spasmed a bit too hard, right as she was comparing the size of her hand to Warren’s head. She was relishing in the discovery that her hand could indeed palm his entire skull now, when the orgasm spasmed through her, and Warren was briefly jerked awake from his reverie. His eyes opened, and for a few seconds, his mouth stopped suckling.

Irina’s heart stopped. When Warren had last been in a “normal” frame of mind, yes, she had been bathing him, but the shallow pretense of her role for him as purely caretaker had still remained. It was only when his delirium had struck that all the boundaries had dissolved. But now he was awake again, and looking up at her, over her huge breast, with her nipple in his mouth. For a moment, Irina felt like she had been caught red-handed.

But then, almost immediately, she recovered herself, and continued to manifest the role that she knew was right for both of them.

“Go back to sleep, little Warren,” she whispered down at him, her warm, sweet breath washing over his face and fluttering his eyelids. “Go back to sleeeeeep, little baby…Mommy’s got you.”

With warm satisfaction, Irina saw Warren’s eyes flutter again, before his lids closed back all the way, and his mouth resumed sucking. She felt the hot currents of her milk running forth again into his mouth, and she hummed deeply in satisfaction, the soothing vibrations of her voice permeating every cell of Warren’s body. Within seconds, he had slipped back into a deep sleep. Irina reached over once again, this time turning off the light. All was dark now in Warren’s bedroom…their bedroom. Irina couldn’t even hear his soft suckling at her nipple, but she could feel it as she breathed in deeply, taking in the solace and power of the darkness around her.

‘This is where I belong,’ she thought, feeling the weight of sleep coming over her at last. ‘Right here…using my body to feed him, care for him, protect him. He’s safe, sooooo safe here…with me.’

She had never slept so deeply, or so peacefully, as she did that night, with Warren nestled snugly into her breast, sucking away all the while. Irina was not accustomed to falling asleep without setting an alarm clock, with an itinerary already prepared of what she was going to do the next day, but this night was different. It was the beginning of something entirely new, and, for once, Irina was going to sleep in and enjoy it.

About 8 hours later, Warren found himself opening his eyes to something warm and soft, something that gradually came into focus the more he looked at it. His mouth felt wet, like he had been spitting in his sleep. He moved his legs and found that he was lying across something even plusher than his mattress…what was it!? His eyes widened as he blinked a few times. He was staring at a breast. A gigantic, humongous breast…far bigger than any he had ever seen…and it was hanging there, totally bare, right in his face. His eyes travelled down naturally, and saw that a massive, engorged nipple was right there, just below his chin, with dots of white speckling it all around.

Milk…

Warren froze — he immediately felt the wetness around his mouth and chin, and looked down at his hand. Milk. He had been drinking milk. He suddenly realized that his little stomach felt bloated and full. He struggled up off where he lay and backed away towards the end of the bed in horror. Irina was lying there, fast asleep, a happy smile on her face, with her night robe pulled back from the breast he had been sleeping next to…the breast he had been…drinking from. She looked absolutely enormous.

The last thing Warren remembered was feeling a warm, peaceful sense of elation as he realized that he didn’t have to worry about hiding his erection from Irina any more. She had been taking care of him, and she knew how aroused he was by her body…that was what he had been thinking, before…before his mind had dissolved into a kind of strange dream, where he was being hugged and squeezed and lifted and…something more…but it had all been a dream, surely! And yet here was the proof that Irina had actually done it. She had ACTUALLY breastfed him, and, from the feeling in his stomach, she had fed him quite a lot.

‘This…this is too much!!’ he thought to himself, trembling, as he shakily climbed down from the bed. Irina looked so good there, so enticing, so sexy…but it was all more than Warren could take. She had just breastfed him like a little baby, and, now that he was standing on the floor, Warren saw how much he had shrunk. He would’ve had trouble getting back up on the bed. His chest began seizing, and his lungs hardened within his breastplate. He couldn’t have another panic attack…not here…not now…but it was happening, and there was nothing Warren could do about it. Irina would wake up and then she would have him. He would be trapped forever, doomed to shrink and shrink and shrink until he literally became her little baby, to be fed milk every day and cooed and gurgled at. He knew that this is really what he wanted…but he could not accept it. It was too alien…too bizarre…too insane.

And now he felt his legs buckling beneath him. He couldn’t fall down on the floor. He couldn’t wake her up. He needed to get out of there, before she snatched him up again. He needed to run…to run far, far away…to escape, to breathe, to go anywhere where she couldn’t find him.

His vision popped and rushed before him as he ran out of his bedroom and stumbled desperately down the stairs. He hadn’t been outside his house in weeks, and yet right now, he didn’t even think twice about heading straight for the front door. His mind had been overtaken by panic, by an irrational and crazy desire to escape his situation by physically fleeing. But Warren wasn’t thinking straight at the moment — he wasn’t thinking at ALL, actually. All that was rushing at blinding speed through his mind were the words, repeated over and over: “Get out…Get out…Get out!!!”

The fresh air of the morning hit his face like a freight train, and the sunlight blinded him. But Warren didn’t stop. He was a tiny, sick man possessed now. For the next hour, he stumbled down the sidewalk, with no aim or purpose, no destination. He was an untethered man, in a very different world.