Chapter 13

Irina began waking up about half an hour after Warren had fled. It was so warm, so comfortable in the bed, that she didn’t even think twice about opening her eyes up to Warren’s bedroom. She closed them again, snuggling her big body around a little more into the plush pillows behind her, as she hummed contentedly. Only after a minute or so of semi-waking consciousness did Irina really remember that she was, in fact, in Warren’s bed…and that all the crazy events of the previous evening had actually happened. But even with this realization, Irina didn’t even bother opening her eyes yet. Her lips opened slightly as she savored the memories of Warren’s little mouth suckling on her nipple, his tiny body dwarfed by her gigantic, heavy mammaries, as she softly cooed down at him and ran her long fingers through his hair.

Her right arm instinctively felt for Warren’s skinny little body, but, finding that he wasn’t there, Irina quickly opened her eyes and looked down. Beside her bared breast, hanging hugely out of the side of her night robe, was…nothing…nobody…except some slightly ruffled comforter. Irina blinked and looked down at her breast, and her huge chest started heaving as she began taking large, deep breaths.

Her first thought, crazy as it sounded, was that Warren had shrunk down to an absolutely tiny size when they had both been sleeping…so tiny that he was lost among the folds and crevices of the sheets. Very carefully, her heart thumping away between her heavy, swinging breasts, Irina started looking around in the sheets for him.

‘Relax…’ she told herself, breathing in and out as slowly and deliberately as possible. ‘He couldn’t have gotten so small so quickly. It’s just…it couldn’t have happened like that.’

Irina had heard several reports on the news of men shrinking down below a foot tall, but apparently, such shrinking in Whipple patients was exceedingly rare. In these select few cases, however, the men had shrunk down to 8 inches, 6 inches, and, in the case of a crazy outlier, 3 inches. As far as the medical community could tell, the vast majority of Whipple patients stopped shrinking around between 2-3 feet, with very, very few shrinking past a foot-and-a-half. The freakishness of these outlying cases, however, predictably made the headlines, which went a long way towards explaining Irina’s fears right now. More than anything else, she wasn’t worried about Warren shrinking that small, per se. She was worried that he had shrunk that small…and that she had inadvertently crushed him in his sleep.

After less than a minute of searching, however, no sign of Warren had turned up. Irina began breathing a little easier now.

‘Ok, he’s…he’s not in the bed,’ she thought. ‘He didn’t shrink to 3 inches overnight…come on, of course he didn’t…quit freaking out over nothing! He’s just…he’s just somewhere else in the house, is all.’

Irina covered her bare breast with her night robe and re-tied it, rising up from the bed as the mattress groaned out in relief. Even though her mind was preoccupied with where Warren was, Irina couldn’t help but marvel a little at just how…big she had become. It wasn’t just that she was a little over 6’5 now, which was reason enough to pause and gawk at how small everything looked in the room. The curvy, voluptuous weight that she had gained was perhaps an even more noticeable aspect of her burgeoning body. Even just standing there, Irina felt totally different all over. She could feel it in her breasts, her hips, her thighs, her ass…everywhere…she could just tell that she was carrying around more, that every movement she made had more implications. She could feel the hardwood floor giving way slightly as she walked slowly out of the bedroom, and she was conscious of how she needed to walk straight out of the door, to avoid banging her thick hips on either side of the door frame. And as she made her way down the stairs, she felt the weight of her figure moving and jiggling around with every step she took. Even though she had just woken up, she felt a rush of vivacious energy tingling through her bones and muscles — her incredible growth came along with a sense of vibrant power and vitality. She wasn’t just tall and huge; she was strong and healthy, and she felt like she could do anything. In every sense of the word, she had grown into a veritable amazon.

As she reached the ground floor of the house, however, Irina’s mind had shifted from wonder at her own growth and energy to anxiety surrounding Warren. Once she had stepped off the last stair, she actually stopped for a moment, her hand grasping the rounded newel, as she steadied herself.

‘All right, just…just get with it,’ she told herself. ‘Figure out what you’re gonna say, and how you’re gonna behave, when you see him.’

Irina was now worried about a possible reactionary pushback from Warren after last night’s events. Their relationship had definitely shifted into an entirely new realm, at least as far as Irina was concerned. She had breastfed Warren for an extended amount of time…she had fallen asleep with her nipple in his mouth! Never again could she see him in quite the same way; for the past few weeks, she had been viewing him less and less as an equal, and more and more as an entity she cared for, but after last night…well, there was no way she could possibly ever see him as an equal again. A line had been firmly and inexorably crossed, and there was no going back.

Irina was perfectly happy with this development…elated, even. But that didn’t stop her anxiety, which was really starting to rev up now. The last thing she wanted was for Warren to be upset or angry with her, or even worse, to try and fire her. There was no way Irina was going to let him dismiss her — that much she knew. To even think of Warren facing his illness alone, in the midst of the pandemic, was utterly out of the question. It made no difference to Irina how Warren behaved in that contingency; she simply would not let him fire her, and he would then have to get used to the fact that he had no real power in the situation.

But Irina didn’t think that would happen. Warren was not the angry type. She was more concerned that he would be upset with her, or feel used by her. In the far recesses of her mind, a slight guilt was tickling her subconscious. She knew that she had, by any definition, taken advantage of him. But it had all happened so organically, so naturally! She hadn’t planned on breastfeeding him! It had just sort of…happened. There had never been any nefarious intent on her part…

‘But maybe he woke up and realized I had been breastfeeding him and…that made him upset,’ she thought, her eyes scanning around in the kitchen. ‘Maybe he thinks I used his delirium as an excuse to…to do that to him.’

Irina dearly hoped that this wasn’t how Warren felt, but even if it was, she was confident that she would be able to gently talk sense into him. She had to remind herself how much power she really did have over him now. But the thought of her sweet little baby all upset with her, with his little face all screwed up with hurt, made her heart ache.

It was getting weird now. There was no sign of him in the kitchen…no sign that he had even been downstairs to eat anything. Now Irina’s worries took a new turn. What if Warren, no doubt energized by her milk, had decided to do something around the house? What if he had hurt himself again? And that was why she didn’t hear any sign of him!? Irina knew that her mind was probably just jumping to paranoid conclusions, but she didn’t really have much choice in the matter. Warren was her precious little thing to care for, and it was concerning, given the circumstances, that she had no idea where he was.

She decided to call for him. She had initially resisted this impulse, since she was worried that Warren was upset with her, but at this point, she just wanted to hear him answer.

“Warren?” she called, making it a point to ensure that her voice echoed pleasantly and gently. “Warren? Where are you, baby?”

She suddenly got a wonderful idea: after she found him, she’d pick him up and take him into the kitchen, where she’d “make him breakfast.” The whole time, though, she’d make it a point to lean into the counter, making her breasts look even more gigantic than they already were. God, the look on his little face…he would be salivating to get his lips back on her nipple. But she would just tease him, playfully insisting that he eat the breakfast she was making for him. Of course, in the end, she’d let him have his true breakfast…

“Warren?” she called again, coming out of the kitchen, “Come on baby, you must be hungry! I’m making something that I know you’re gonna…”

And then she saw it — the front door, cracked halfway open. Irina froze, and for a couple seconds she just looked at the door, not even able to register what it meant. Warren had run away…and he had been in such a hurry that he hadn’t even closed the door behind him. The hardwood floor boomed and echoed with Irina’s heavy footsteps as she ran toward the door. Her mind was rushing faster than she could keep up with it. Warren had been kidnapped…no, that was impossible because she made sure the doors were always locked…he had unlocked it himself and run away…run away from her…no, no wait…no that couldn’t be it! He was in the front yard, getting some fresh air, surely…her milk had given him energy…maybe he was sitting on the front porch in one of those huge rocking chairs…she would scold him! It was dangerous to be exposed like that, all alone, with some of these huge women wandering around, collecting men for their harems…she would have a talk with him…!!

She burst out of the front door, and her eyes scanned desperately up and down the front porch, and then the front yard, the freshness of the morning air mocking her. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen! Irina’s breath was coming in rapid, labored heaves now, and her mouth was open in slow, gradual horror. This couldn’t be…he would never…never…even dream of putting himself at such risk! Even if he was upset with her, surely! It made no sense!

In her blind anxiety, Irina had tumbled herself down the stairs, and was now hurriedly scouring the front yard grass for clues. She didn’t have to look long. It still wasn’t late enough in the morning for the dew to have evaporated, and Irina’s desperate eye found what she was looking for: a set of little footprints in the dew, going in a haphazard zig-zag away from the house.

“Warren…Warren, no…” pleaded Irina out loud as she followed the tracks. They went on and on, in that same disordered, pitiful trajectory, until the grass ended at the sidewalk pavement. Irina crouched down and saw, with a sickening lurch in her stomach, that the wet tracks of Warren’s tiny bare feet only went on for a few more yards on the sidewalk, getting fainter and fainter, before they finally disappeared.

“Oh god…” Irina whispered. Her worst fears had now been proven true: Warren HAD run away from home…from her. She had no idea where he was, except that he was now all alone in the world, with no shoes or socks for his little feet, running scared in a blind frenzy away from her. There was no telling the danger he was in now, the danger of being snatched up by any woman who happened to see him. Irina didn’t know what she was doing now, except that she was running down the sidewalk, desperately calling his name, as hot tears began pooling in the corners of her eyes.

Right about that time, Warren was out of breath, clutching at an awful stitch in his side, as he leaned against a mailbox. His vision swam before him as he looked around, trying to gauge where he was. But at the moment, the only thing he could focus on was his breathing, and his rapid heart rate. In his terribly jumbled mind, he couldn’t remember if he had heard it on the news or not, but he seemed to recall hearing something about how strenuous physical activity was bad for Whipple patients. As his breathing became more and more labored, and his heart rate seemed to get even faster, he could well believe it. He felt positively awful, like he was about to throw up or pass out. It took a full ten minutes, leaning against the mailbox (with the actual box above his head, since he was a mere 3’8), before he could feel his body returning to some kind of acceptable stasis. Those ten minutes had been absolutely horrible, and it was only Warren’s disorientation that saved him from actually wrapping his mind around what was going on, and having a full-blown panic attack.

Gradually, though, his body did calm down a bit, and Warren proceeded to stumble on, having no destination in mind. He just wanted to get as far away from Irina as he possibly could. He wasn’t running now, since he was far too tired for that, and since he was moving at this slower pace, he was able to actually have a look around at a world that he had not seen, in person, in over a month.

The first thing he noticed were the advertisements. Weeks before, when he had last been out in the world, he had slept through the car ride back from the doctor, when Irina was driving him. Even then, the effects of the virus were everywhere — women walking hand in hand with their noticeably-smaller male partners, billboards going up everywhere about mass testing sites and “stopping the spread” and so on. But even if Warren had been awake to see all that, what he was seeing now would have looked completely alien.

To begin with, the advertisements had changed. Whereas before they were directed mainly towards a general audience, now they were all quite obviously aimed at women only.

“Savannah’s Male Training,” blared a large billboard advertisement, across the street from where Warren was walking. It had a close-up picture of a tiny, collared, and leashed man’s face, open-mouthed and obviously in the midst of talking back to his gargantuan female owner, who was brandishing the other end of the leash in a threatening way.

“Don’t Blame ‘Em! Train ‘Em!” continued the advertisement, which was followed by a bulleted list of offered services: “Basic Manners Classes…Behavior Problems…Day Care…Male Etiquette…Cage-Free Boarding…Certified Professional Trainers…Guaranteed Results…”

Warren blinked and kept moving. It was so surreal seeing such an advertisement that he wasn’t able to properly process its implications. But as he kept walking, he wasn’t able to avoid much more of the same thing.

“I love mommy’s eyes…not her allergies,” read another advertisement, this one advertising allergy pills by a bus stop. Warren wouldn’t have noticed anything amiss if the face in the middle of the advertisement had been a normal baby. But it wasn’t’; instead, it was obviously an adult male’s face, complete with a food bib underneath, and the advertisement clearly implied that he was the one speaking.

Warren’s mind suddenly flashed back to the previous night — he was in the bathtub, looking up at Irina’s huge, gentle face, as her enormous warm breast squished up against the side of his face. He had been in the throes of delirium, of course, but…but had he…had he said something to her…?

He shook his head and kept walking, now feeling like the world was beginning to close around him…and unbeknownst to him, an enormous 7’1 woman had just spotted him from across the street.

“MaxiMilk Breast Pumps with Flex Technology,” read another advertisement, which depicted a gorgeous, buxom woman nudging her nose gently into her baby-sized male partner; they were both smiling. “Good for you, good for him.”

The 7’1 woman had now crossed the street, and was quickly gaining on Warren from behind.

“Bust Over 60?” read another billboard, as Warren neared the corner of the block. “Visit helpimoversixty.com for more — you are NOT ALONE!”

Warren would have read more, but his attention had been diverted. A gigantic young woman was coming straight at him, striding down the sidewalk perpendicular to the one he was walking on. And she wasn’t just coming towards him…she was coming for him. Her strawberry blond hair was blowing slightly in the breeze, and Warren could see her wide blue eyes dead-set on him; her mouth was opened in delighted surprise, like she couldn’t believe her luck.

Warren felt himself seize up inside, and he instinctively turned around to go the other way. This motion, however, only served to show him the other huge woman who had been pursuing him from the opposite direction. This dark-haired woman was slightly older and larger than the blond, but she looked no less eager to get her hands on Warren. Warren turned forward, then backward, forward, then backward again. He was trapped.

“I saw him first!” came the loud, confident voice of the blond, and she promptly bent down at the waist and seized Warren’s left arm with a colossal hand. Being 6’10, the top of Warren’s head would have barely grazed her pussy if he had stood in between her legs; her hand easily went all the way around his upper arm, and held it with a vice-like force.

“Oh no you don’t!” came the equally-confident and slightly-deeper voice of the dark-haired lady, immediately bending down and grabbing Warren’s other arm. “I was following him before you even came around the corner!”

“Prove it!” barked the younger woman, lightly wrenching Warren toward her.

“I don’t have to prove anything to you!” exclaimed the older woman. She indicated to her breasts, which, even for her size, were abnormally large. The blond’s breasts were also huge, but the dark-haired lady’s were something else.

“And besides, look at you, and look at me,” continued the older lady, “Who do you think needs another mouth to feed?”

“Oh don’t give me that,” retorted the blond, again trying to wrench Warren her way. “For all I know you’ve got a harem back home, and you just wanna add to it. I only have two I’m feeding right now…and it’s getting dull!”

“Not my problem — I saw him first!” repeated the older woman, her voice rising in anger.

“We’ll see about that,” grunted the younger woman. “You know what, fuck this!”

She suddenly extended out her free hand and smacked the dark-haired lady across the face.

“You…little…bitch!” cried the older woman in response, and Warren suddenly felt both women let go of him as they started smacking each other, high above his head. He didn’t even think — he was in survival mode now. Dodging the huge thighs of the fighting women, he ducked slightly, scurrying in between the blond’s legs. He made a beeline straight for a nearby alley, and he didn’t stop until he had turned himself around in a maze of alleyways. The distant sounds of the two women now echoed off the brick walls…“And now neither of us can have him…nice work…well that’s what you get for being greedy…oh go home to your harem, bitch…pot kettle black, sister…” Their words faded away.

Warren was in a densely-populated part of town now, where the buildings were close together. He huddled behind a dumpster, catching his breath. As his body relaxed a little, his mind was allowed to run rampant. How could he have been so stupid!? Running away like that, exposing himself to what the world was like now?? On the other hand, though, in a sense, he would have only been going to a different home, where the same dynamics applied, right? Irina had breastfed him…she knew how hopelessly attracted to her he had become, and now it was only a matter of time, right? Before he was truly her baby? His mind shot back to the bib he had ordered off the internet. Irina hadn’t seen it yet; it had only just arrived a few days ago. Surely this is what he actually wanted, wasn’t it!? What use was there running? No…no this wasn’t what he wanted! Just because he was attracted to her didn’t mean…didn’t mean that he wanted it to be like THIS.

For over half an hour, Warren didn’t move from behind the dumpster. The sun was rising in the sky, but he only seemed to get colder. His mind was doing backflips over and over itself, straining back and forth, and getting nowhere in the end. He had no idea what to do, and to cap it all off, his tummy had started rumbling. He knew he wasn’t hungry for real food. Again and again, his mind jumped back to those speckles of creamy, rich white milk on Irina’s nipple earlier that morning…in his cozy bed, next to her huge, warm, sweet-smelling body. It seemed an infinity away already, and even as he longed to go back to it, he still recoiled from it.

Suddenly, a flurry of female voices came up in the alley.

“And I told him, like…if you want me to give you a treat, you can’t just moan and whine and give me those puppy-dog eyes,” a woman was saying. “You’ve gotta do the trick first!”

“Oh my god I knowwwww,” laughed another woman. “I think it’s the milk…they think we’ve gone all soft on ‘em, just because they get to drink it.”

Warren panicked again — it sounded like the women were coming straight for him, and he was exposed. He darted out from behind the dumpster and ran into an adjacent alley. He quickly spotted a small door in the side of a building that looked like it led down to a basement of some kind. The female voices were getting closer. He went for it, reaching up his arm and twisting desperately on the handle. To his relief, the door opened, and he went quickly into the darkness, shutting the door behind him. The women passed, and Warren really did breathe a sigh of relief now; he was safe. Breathing hard, he turned around to get a bearing on where he was, and he felt his body freeze in place. He was in a sort of storage basement, with boxes all around.

But he wasn’t alone. Around a dozen tiny men, between the four and two feet in height, all terribly emaciated, were crouched in a circle around a kerosene lamp, and all of them had turned to stare at him. They were all dirty and scantily-clothed, and eating the scraps of what appeared to be bread. After a few silent moments, one of them stood up, extending his hand…and even though Warren was only 3’8, this man only came up to his shoulders.

“Close call there!” said the man in a raspy voice. “You nearly gave us all away! Come over here and join us! But quietly…quietly…no loud noises…or they’ll find us, and then it’s all over.”