Chapter 22
By the soft white floodlight of the open refrigerator, Irina felt a calm exultant power emanate from the sensation of Warren suckling helplessly on her huge nipple, and a slow and steady exhale escaped her lips as she felt this power course through her entire body. She had him. Finally, she had him. This wasn’t like what had happened before, when she had basically snuck her nipple into his mouth while he was sleeping, while he was delirious. No — he had been totally conscious when she had ambushed him, just as he was totally conscious now, even if he had fully succumbed to the submission of her embrace, and to the flow of her milk.
‘And he’s sucking it,’ she thought vigorously to herself as she palmed the back of his little head with one hand while she squeezed her breast with the other, encouraging the flow of milk into Warren’s mouth. ‘He’s sucking it down hard…as hard as he possibly can. He’s been waiting for this moment just as much as I have and now…NOW…it’s finally here.’
Irina was so transported by the power of the moment that, for once, she allowed herself to indulge in the pleasure she herself was experiencing, a pleasure that hit home on so many different levels. Over the past weeks, ever so surely, she had been building Warren up to this point, the point of no return. Yes, she had accosted him, and yes, she had smothered him, easily resisting his weak and futile attempts at escape, but none of that mattered now.
She had caught him in the act. He had been trying to sneak downstairs to have a taste of the breastmilk she had taken the trouble to so conspicuously show to him a few days before. And earlier that day, during their chess match, Irina had seen the way he was looking at her gigantic breasts. The poor little guy could barely hold himself together around her anymore. The way his eyes just seemed to find her nipples, it was like the two were magnetically attracted. And so while Warren had been out of the room, Irina had decided to clean out the fridge in anticipation of him trying to sneak a midnight taste.
It had all come off perfectly. She had mimed the deep, rhythmic sounds of her breathing in bed, so that Warren would think she was asleep, and then after a few minutes she had felt it: the fragile, trembling struggles of the shrunken man to free himself from under the burden of her huge arm. His first movements had sent a current of electricity through her breasts, and her nipples hardened immediately. She had instantly known what his designs were. As Warren had struggled and toiled at this task for several minutes, Irina had been smiling up at the ceiling, her expression invisible in the dark. And when he had finally managed to free himself, Irina had taken care to wait until she had counted to 200, to give her little man enough time to carefully descend the stairs in the dark. Rising up slowly in regal, sensuous anticipation at what was about to happen, she had slipped on her gossamer nightgown, parted lusciously in the middle to display her glorious, amazonian nude front, and stepped quietly out of the bedroom onto the landing of the spiral staircase.
She had felt like a powerful presiding spirit, standing there on the landing, a full 7 feet tall in all of her voluptuous busty splendor, as she peered down calmly into the dark gloom of the kitchen far below. She could hear Warren scratching around as he fumbled in the darkness for the step stool.
‘Just like a little mouse,’ Irina thought tenderly to herself. She was waiting for it…waiting for the moment she knew would be her cue to descend. Five minutes later, it finally happened: a sudden crack of white light spilled out from the previously-unseen source of the refrigerator, and Irina glided swiftly down the stairs, her nightgown billowing behind her. Despite the enormous size of her body, her movements were so deft and agile that Warren hadn’t even heard her approach. And when she had alighted down on the ground floor, and saw his little shoulders slump and start to shake upon seeing the empty fridge, Irina had felt an almost unbearable searing and bubbling churn in her breasts, in the milk ducts directly behind her nipples. The time had come for her, for him, for them both — and she was going to take him.
And she had.
For long minutes after smothering him in her breasts, Irina had simply stood there by the light of the fridge, lightly bouncing Warren in her grasp as she fed him her thick creamy milk. She wanted the door to stay open so she could stare down at his tiny face and forever imprint on her mind the image of his puckered, eager lips around her nipple. She didn’t want to ever forget this moment, and what it looked like. There was nothing her little man could do or say now that would outlast this moment here. He was her little baby, her little boy to care for and protect, to feed, comfort, and nourish…and from now on, Irina was determined that he was going to be treated that way.
A soft burbling moan escaped Warren’s lips, and a surge of thick sweet milk bubbled up in between her nipple and his mouth, spilling down the side of his neck. He coughed a little, sending little flecks of creaminess speckling across the wall of her breast.
“Shhh, shhhhh,” Irina whispered, lacing her huge fingers soothingly through Warren’s hair. “Eeeeeassssy…take it eeeeassyyyy, little one.”
A moment later he was back to full-on sucking, with Irina humming down to him, fully pouring herself into the motherly role. She didn’t want it to end. The ecstatic feeling of the immense wellspring of her milk being slowly, eagerly sucked out by her little Warren…his cheeks were twin little concaves of rhythmic, beating flesh, as they went in and out, in and out with each craving suck. Irina exhaled out through her open mouth as she watched her great body buck and heave with her big breaths. She had to breathe deeply to keep herself calm, to keep herself from being overwhelmed by the sheer ecstasy of the physical sensations she was experiencing right now. She knew that the virus made women’s nipples more sensitive, but she never could have imagined that it would be this intense. It was one thing to have Warren unconsciously sucking on them gently in his sleep — it was quite another for his little lips to be latched completely around her nipple, its flesh filling the entirety of his mouth as he sucked her milk down into his belly, like he depended on it for his survival. Every nerve in her nipple was smoldering with an almost-unbearable liquid fire, and it took all of Irina’s powers of self-control to hold herself together.
“Here…here…” she whispered, unable to utter the last syllable without it rising up into an ecstatic, tender moan, “Let’s switch, Warren…let’s give the other one a turn.”
The surging pleasure in her first nipple had become too intense; Irina was already on the verge of an orgasm, but her other breast was feeling neglected, and in any case she wanted to let the ecstasy build up a little more in her loins before release. And she didn’t want to be standing up, with the vulnerable little guy in her arms, when it happened.
Gently guiding Warren’s head with her palm, she pulled him back off her nipple. His cheeks sucked in even harder, trying to hang on, but another couple seconds of Irina’s gentle pressure forced him to yield, and her fat nipple jumped out of his mouth with an audible pop. Immediately, Warren’s lips started puckering again, vainly sucking at the air in search of the source of that cherished milk. Irina smiled softly to herself as she effortlessly flipped his little body around, and her giant palm tightened ever-so-gently around the back of his little head as she guided his puckering lips straight to her second nipple, which was already dribbling out little drops of thick white milk in anticipation.
“Ohhhhhh….” breathed Irina, arching her head up toward the dark ceiling as she sucked in a breath through her mighty diaphragm. Her eyes rolled back a little in her head as she felt Warren’s desperate lips fight to wrap themselves around her erect nipple. Seeing as how he was having a bit of trouble, Irina interrupted her sensual exultation to look back down and carefully press his head into her breast, giving him that last bit of a push he needed to fit her whole nipple in his tiny mouth.
“There we go, little guy,” she whispered down at him, petting his head, encouraging him. “More milk for my little one. Suck, Warren…suck, suck, suuuuckkkkkk…”
Irina felt her legs starting to shiver in anticipation of her orgasm, and even though she wanted to keep looking at Warren nursing from her breast, she was firm in her dedication to his safety. She bumped her hip into the fridge door, closing it, and shrouding the whole scene back into darkness. Little white balls of light popped and burst in her vision as Irina slowly, delicately, approached the staircase and began ascending the stairs, one by one, always with a firm but tender hold on Warren. It was like he didn’t even realize that anything had changed. Irina could feel his precious little mouth still sucking, sucking away down there in the dark. When she reached the bedroom, Irina felt like she was returning to a new scene, a new reality. Minutes before, when she had left the bedroom, she had gone in search of something — not just Warren, but an entirely new role, a new identity for herself. For weeks now…months, even, she had been teasing it in herself, holding it back, distrusting it, and then finally embracing it while still waiting for the best moment to reveal herself. The moment had come, and now she was bringing it home with her: her little Warren, snuggled into her warm breast, sucking directly from her breast like a little baby.
Irina exhaled as she lay back in the bed, still petting Warren’s little body as she stretched her legs out comfortably, and then pulled the sheets up to her waist. For a long time she sat there in the darkness, letting the searing pleasure of what was happening build and build in her loins. She petted his head; she laced her long fingers through his short hair; she scratched her nails lovingly over his scalp and across his bare back; she gently kneaded his tiny butt; she rubbed his little hands and feet in between her thumb and forefinger. She ran a delicate finger over the erect prick of his little cock. In every way, she played with his shrunken body, and with each touch, she felt like she was claiming him, announcing ownership over him. Those were her little buttcheeks…her little hands and feet…That was her little cock…
Irina knew that this was only the beginning, but for now, she allowed the ecstasy of the moment to envelop her and Warren together in the tenderest of embraces, as the night deepened around them. She held off her own rapture for a few more minutes, allowing it to build, and then finally pushed herself forward, her loins spasming as she orgasmed powerfully, over and over and over again, as she held Warren to her breast. She was allowing all the pain and heartache, the difficulties of their relationship — everything — to crash over her, even as all the pleasures and joys far overshadowed the rest. Irina wasn’t afraid of facing the stark reality of their power dynamic anymore. THIS was what she was…and THIS was what Warren was. And there was no going back. Within a few minutes of her orgasm, Irina was asleep, still cradling an inert and utterly submissive Warren, who had passed out minutes before in a milk coma, with speckles of white dotted all around his cheeks and open mouth.
For many hours, the two of them slept soundly, and when Irina woke up first (as she always did), with the early-morning light just starting to glow palely from behind the heavy curtains, she immediately felt for the tiny man at her bare breast. He was still there, sleeping soundly…and Irina could already tell that he had shrunk more during the night. She stared down at him lovingly for a few minutes, taking note of every aspect of his tiny body. She had expected the shrinking to accelerate along with his copious consumption of her milk — this particular aspect of the Whipple Virus’s trajectory had already been well-established.
But Irina wasn’t worried; she knew that the more dramatic shrinking would happen during the first day or two, and then dwindle down to almost nothing, provided that Warren continued to take his medication. From the position of her legs in the bed, and the height of her head against the headboard, Irina could tell that she had grown more than usual during the night. It was ironic — Warren had taken from her by drinking her milk, but really, the net effect had been that she had taken from him. Irina knew this wasn’t really how the virus worked — she hadn’t actually “stolen” his size. But that’s kind of what it felt like, and she had to admit that there was something deeply pleasing and validating about her gaining size — and him losing it — because of their interaction the night before.
Irina moved slowly and deliberately, so as not to wake Warren, as she leaned over in the bed towards the nightstand and fetched the measuring tape. She gently manipulated his little legs and upper body, straightening him out across her spacious lap. Once or twice, his limbs twitched, and he uttered something like a little moan, but all Irina had to do was calmly coo down to him.
“Awww, shhh, shhh…awwwwww,” was all she had to whisper, and the sound of her voice acted like a soporific on him. Moments later Warren’s little spasms had stopped, and he was again breathing as deeply as was possible for him, with his little chest rising and falling, rising and falling. Irina felt like she was melting from tenderness as she watched him sleep, and at the same time, she couldn’t help but notice how gigantic she was compared to him. She had absolutely dwarfed him for weeks now, but their most recent growth and shrink spurts had put the stark reality of their size difference into even more intense focus. Her bare arm next to his legs looked ridiculously huge. Irina was amazed to see that her forearm alone was thicker and longer than both of Warren’s legs combined…and even more dramatically, as she silently held her arm up to his torso, she realized that her arm was actually bigger. The thickest part of her upper forearm was clearly thicker than the widest part of Warren’s torso.
Irina was breathing heavily to herself as she held her huge hand up to Warren’s back. It was incredible — her hand covered his back completely, and more…her fingers spanned all the way down past his little butt, to his mid-thighs.
‘Oh god,’ Irina thought to herself, getting goosebumps as she took his little arms, ‘My fingers…they’re thicker than his wrists…than his forearms…I…I can't believe it!’
It truly was hard to believe. Irina knew that Warren had realistically only shrunk by a few inches, but there was something about the comparisons she was making with his body right now that made the changes seem all the more dramatic. Maybe it was as simple as the fact that his naked body was stretched out across her huge, fleshy lap. In any case, Irina picked up the measuring tape, lined its beginning up carefully with the bottoms of Warren’s tiny feet, and then extended the tape out, pulling it taut right at the top of his head.
“2’3!?” Irina moaned out loud, feeling a mixture of pity, humor, and unassailable tenderness toward her little man as she saw the measurement. “Two…foot…three!?”
Even though the number made sense to Irina, considering how miniature Warren looked on her lap, it was still hard to wrap her mind around the reality of what it all meant. Warren had shrunk…by almost 9 inches…in a span of 24 hours. For a minute or so, Irina began to worry that perhaps something was wrong. He was taking his medicine; he had been getting plenty of good rest; and he certainly wasn’t being underfed…But just then, she remembered something that she had heard on the news a week or two before, something Aly Rainsman and Julia Winters had been discussing on one of their weekly “Fem Panels.”
“Colostrum Diminishment Syndrome,” muttered Irina to herself, nodding her head. “That’s what they were calling it.” Apparently in some Whipple cases, generally presenting in men under 3 feet tall, abrupt introduction to live breast milk from a Whipple-infected female accelerated the shrinking process, and overcame the protective effects of the resveratrol. This syndrome was only temporary, and there were no lasting harmful effects on the male, but the resulting shrinking was permanent.
Irina breathed a sigh of relief upon recalling this information, and reminded herself that it was in her best interest to stay as informed as possible about the virus. She owed it to herself, and to the little man asleep in her lap, to take the best care of him she could. At the same time, with a pleasing warming sensation, she remembered that “CDS” also tended to affect the lactating female as well, increasing her size and height in indirect proportion to the male’s. And the heavier the lactation, the more dramatic the growth. Irina glanced around; the bedsheets on either side of her were dotted with white stains. Even after Warren had stopped sucking, and after both of them had fallen asleep, her nipples had apparently continued dribbling drops of milk onto the bedsheets. And as she took another deep breath, Irina could feel what felt like oceans of milk sloshing around in her swelling breasts. She was sooooo full.
‘I wonder how tall I am now,’ Irina thought to herself. She almost moved to gently put Warren to the side to stand up and measure herself, but she suddenly stopped, grinning down at the sleeping figure beneath her breasts. She heaved another rich sigh, and her deep breath caused Warren to stir. After a few long moments of him flexing and stretching his skinny limbs, Warren opened his eyes to Irina’s huge face smiling down on him, blinking her lashes lusciously, scrunching her nose up at him like he was the cutest thing in the whole world.
“Good morning, my milky little baby,” she purred down at him, “I want you to measure me.”