Chapter 8

Irina was more conscious of her body than she had ever been before as she hurried back to Warren’s bedroom. For the first time since the pandemic began, she actually allowed herself to dwell on everything about her growing body: the tightness of her maid clothes, the heaviness of her steps, the increased weight of her large breasts as they swung and bounced against her stronger, augmented torso…the more she thought about it all, the more she noticed how different everything felt. It was true that Irina had certainly noticed these changes before, and taken note of them…after all, how could she not, especially when Warren was shrinking so dramatically compared to her?

But the phone call with Sarah had changed everything. Before, Irina had felt almost guilty thinking about her increased size, and her accentuated energy, and her greater sense of power in general — all of those things, in her previous thinking, were the direct result of an opposite reality for Warren. Irina hadn’t realized it, but she had been subconsciously thinking that she was literally “sucking” the size and strength out of Warren herself. It made sense — he was diminishing, getting shorter and skinnier each day, and she was growing taller and fuller, curvier and bustier. Of course it made sense that she had been feeling subliminally guilty! Sarah had helped her see the reality of everything for what it was: none of this was her fault. It was simply the luck of the draw: this is what the Whipple Virus did to men and women. How had Sarah explained it again? It turned the power dynamics between the two upside down…yes…that was the perfect way to describe it.

‘Of COURSE you should embrace the caretaker role!’ Sarah’s voice echoed in her head as she rounded the staircase and started ascending the stairs, going two at a time without even realizing it. ‘These feelings…these urges…embrace them.’

“Embrace them,” Irina whispered to herself thoughtfully as she climbed the stairs rapidly, “Embrace them…embrace them…” She felt tremendously liberated — a great invisible weight had been removed from her shoulders, just in talking with that…that nurse. Sarah had assured her that all of her…maternal instincts, mixed with all that relentlessly erotic and…and intimate desire…well, it was totally normal. Expected, even, for a woman who was infected with this virus. Irina figured, from what Sarah had told her, that it would be a strange thing indeed if she wasn’t having these feelings…all this aching in her breasts, the almost-unbearable tenderness in her nipples, and the churning sensation deep within them, which communicated to her, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her growing body was hard at work, making milk.

Irina had reached the second floor, the floor of Warren’s bedroom, before she even quite realized it.

‘Whooo, that was quick!’ she thought to herself, and then, quite suddenly, she was unable to prevent herself from chuckling out loud. Of course it made sense — she was getting bigger and stronger! Her legs were longer and more powerful; she had more endurance than she had ever enjoyed before. She looked down at her big chest, and she could see her twin breasts heaving up and down, squished and pressed tightly into her small little top, a top that had so obviously become WAY too small for her.

‘EVERYTHING is too small for me!’ Irina suddenly realized. She had noticed her shoes becoming too small before, but as she stood there on the stairhead, she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror on the wall. Her body looked like it wasn’t too far away from bursting out of her maid outfit. Her breasts were squeezed so tightly that they were literally beginning to bulge over the top of her top; her cleavage was so tight that she had trouble sticking even a single finger down in between the twin squashed mammaries. And her hips! Well, she hadn’t realized it before, but they were starting to actually bulge out over her maid skirt — she had become so curvy that the firm, vigorous flesh of her bare hips was visible over the top of her skirt lining. There was even a long line of bare flesh, from her lower belly, that was showing, due to her top being neither wide enough nor long enough to contain her torso. Her black tights looked like they were a day or two away from splitting down her legs. Feeling giddy and excited, Irina turned around to get a look at her ass, and her eyebrows went up — the sizable, bulbous bottoms of both of her cheeks were plainly visible, not quite in a lewd display because of her black tights, but nonetheless in a less-than-proper and overt presentation that was more “college girl out on the town” than “professional housekeeper.”

Irina laughed to herself as she shook her ass in the mirror, watching in awe as it shook and jiggled dramatically, far more than she had ever seen it move before. And she had barely even moved…

‘God,’ she thought, admiring her ass for a few more long seconds, before turning back around and bouncing up and down a little on her toes, watching her breasts bound and carom about on her chest like they had minds of their own, ‘Of course little Warren was all hot and bothered around me! I mean…LOOK at me! And then imagine his little 5’3 body just…running into me…heheh, he got so red in the face…awwww, poor little babyyyyy, and then he ran off and hurt himself…ok, ok, gotta focus here.’

Irina realized that she had gone a little red in the face herself, just thinking about how tiny and skinny Warren would look if he were standing here next to her, doing comparisons in the mirror. She felt a little twinge of guilt again when she remembered his small, shaking little body when she had found him, all cold and alone, on the floor of the library, and that desperate, hollow look in his eye…but she quickly managed to shoo this thought away from her mind. It was like Sarah said: it was up to HER now to take care of him, and right now, he was all warm and safe in his bed, with ice packs on his injuries…waiting for her.

‘Mmmm, he’s waiting for me,’ Irina purred to herself, and she once again reminded herself to focus as she turned toward Warren’s bedroom door. She could have admired how sexy, how bodacious, how motherly she looked in the mirror for a long time, but she had important things to do, things that she knew would bring her far more pleasure than she could have by herself…if she could only manage to keep calm and control herself. Even now, she knew that the power dynamics between her and Warren were still fresh and tender. He was still a man, after all, and he still had his pride…or at least some of it, left. She didn’t want to take things too quickly and risk losing him, or alienating him, or, heaven forbid, compelling him to fire her. But somewhere in the back of her mind, as she put her hand on the bedroom door and pushed it in, Irina indulged in a forbidden thought for the first time:

‘He can’t fire me,’ a little voice said, deep in her mind. ‘He can’t make me leave…he can’t make me do anything anymore.’

But all of this was subliminal to Irina’s conscious thinking as she opened Warren’s door, and beheld him there in the bed, looking tiny, pitiful, and utterly delicious, ice packs still on his banged-up limbs.

“Aw, there he is,” she cooed, realizing immediately that she sounded too sultry. She laughed, a musical, joyful laugh, one that was designed to mask the overt eroticism that had been dripping from those first words.

“H-hi Irina,” smiled Warren weakly, sitting up a little straighter in the bed. He had been watching the news, and was once again beginning to fixate on how curvy and busty all the news women were, before Irina came back in.

“I was just…oh…oh! I was supposed to be getting your supper, now, wasn’t I!?” burst out Irina, the energy in her voice making Warren’s eyes go slightly wider. He couldn’t believe how different everything was when she was in the room. She was so…vivacious and vibrant, in her voice, her movements, the way her body shook slightly with each little motion…everything. His cock had gone soft when she had left the room, but Warren could already feel it hardening right back up again under his bed sheets.

“It’s…it’s ok,” said Warren quickly, “I’m…not really hungry, to be, uh…to be honest.”

“Aw, now come on, uh…come on now Warren,” teased Irina, stepping up closer to his bedside deliberately, her ass, hips and breasts all jiggling visibly with her movement. “You know it’s important that you get all the nutrients you need! I just…heh, I got a little sidetracked there for a minute. But not to worry — I’ll just pop out and be right back with your supper, all piping hot, just like you always want it.”

She turned deliberately in place, giving Warren a full view of her enormous ass, and started walking away, knowing full well that Warren would be gawking at her huge cheeks bouncing crazily up and down, up and down, with each step. Of course, this is exactly what Warren was doing, and as he mouthed wordlessly at the astounding ass jiggling and bouncing away from him, he tried to think of something, anything, to say that would keep Irina there with him in his bedroom. He really wasn’t hungry…for any kind of food, that is. But he was truly, desperately hungry to be close to Irina, to smell her sweet, heavy scent, to feel the powerful heat of her big body close to his diminished, shrinking, skinny little form. He wanted her to touch him, to brush his cheek with her finger, to scratch his head with those long, sexy fingernails…to sit next to him, and gently pull his head over to that mammoth bulge of a rack she had, and then…he’d feel the hard, insistent poke of her nipple against his cheek…and then he’d realize that his cheek was wet and slick with her —

“Say, Warren?” Irina’s slow, purposeful drawl interrupted his rapid-fire thoughts. She had stopped at the door, and had turned around, peering at him coquettishly from over her shoulder. “Have you noticed…me getting bigger recently?”

“B-bigger!?” he asked, a little too quickly, with his voice inching higher on the pitch scale than he had intended.

“Yeah,” intoned Irina, almost lazily, turning around slowly to face Warren head-on once again, so that he could get a full view of her bosom. “I mean…haha, I know this might seem a little weird to bring up, but there’s no one else I can ask, and you see me all the time, so…?”

She spread her arms out a little and turned back and forth, left and right, to give Warren a healthy view of her figure. She made a conscious effort not to stare too hard at his face, at least right now, in the beginning, but from what she had seen already, she could tell that he was reddening again, trying desperately to hold in his arousal. This knowledge alone made Irina start to get wet herself, and she made a mental note that if she controlled herself, she’d get wetter still.

“I—I mean…uh…I…I th-think so, a little…uh, yeah,” stuttered Warren. What else could he say? Now that Irina was giving him the free opportunity to look her up and down, there was no other answer that wouldn’t have sounded absurd. Her voluptuous curves looked like they were about to pop out of her clothes. Warren hadn’t realized it, but he was clutching his sheets up to his chin, in a defensive gesture. Beneath the sheets, his erection was raging.

“You think so?” asked Irina again, still turning around. “A little?”

“A…a little…um, yeah,” repeated Warren.

“Because, see…recently I’ve felt like these clothes I’m wearing are just…so TIGHT, you know?”

Irina had stopped turning around and was now ambling slowly up closer to Warren’s bedside. He watched her approach, feeling a strange and dizzying combination of fear and arousal. A part of him wanted her to stay put, far away from him, but another part, by far the more powerful and insistent part, wanted her to come closer.

“Y-yeah? Uhhh…tight?” squeaked Warren.

“Mmhmm,” nodded Irina, stepping deliberately, one foot in front of the other, in a kind of lazy catwalk up to him. This kind of lascivious flirtation was so unlike her, totally alien to her professional character…and yet, after that conversation with Sarah…this all seemed to be coming quite naturally to her. Maybe it was the virus…or maybe…maybe it was the virus that had awakened something dormant in her that had been there the whole time.

“You see these heels here?” Irina asked, lifting up her right foot. “I switched shoes days ago, and these are STILL feeling too tight. My feet are getting longer…and wider, Warren, I know it.”

“Oh th-they…they are?” he asked innocently, wondering how it could be that she couldn’t hear his heart pounding away behind his breastplate.

“Yep, and that’s just the beginning,” continued Irina softly, taking care not to talk too slow, or too fast. “You can see how my tights are about to start ripping, right? All down my legs…haha, they’ve gotten longer too, Warren…longer and thicker. Surely you’ve noticed that, haven’t you?”

“I…y-yes, I think so,” he agreed. He was clutching his bedsheets so tightly now that his knuckles were starting to whiten.

“And I could feel you staring at my ass as I walked away,” chuckled Irina softly. She was at his bedside now, and standing over him, her busty figure looming, shrouding him in her shadow.

“But don’t worry!” she laughed, interrupting a desperate excuse that Warren was stammering to come up with, “I caught myself looking at it in the mirror when I was walking down the hall just now. My GOODNESS it’s gotten big, hasn’t it, Warren!? Haha, like, look at it! It’s about to just…just spill out of these tights!”

Irina could tell, from the color of Warren’s face, to the beads of sweat that had formed on his brow, that she had already taken him near his breaking point. She knew she had to draw back a little…to not make it so obvious.

“That’s why I think I need to go shopping after I bring your supper,” she announced, swinging back around to face him as she backed up from the bed, her tone returning to her normal speaking voice.

“Sh-shopping?” asked Warren. “You mean like…like go out shopping? Outside?”

“Well yeah, Warren!” Irina laughed. “I can’t be strutting around your house, looking like some…some, oh I don’t know…some bimbo harlot, hahaha! You deserve a professional housekeeper, and that’s what I’m going to be!”

“So…you’re…you’re going to go out…like, right now?” Warren knew that his tone was betraying everything, but he didn’t care. The thought of Irina leaving him now, even in the safety of his own bed, was intolerable. He had just spent hours calling out for her in vain, desperately wishing her to discover him. He needed her now more than ever — and even still, he knew that he was being sensitive and heavy-handed. But just…just tonight, at least, he didn’t want her to go anywhere. He wanted her to stay right here, with him.

“Well after I bring your supper, yes,” smiled Irina. “Surely you’ve heard that they’re keeping the outlet malls open a lot later these days…high demand from all the growing women, haha!”

“Y-yeah…yeah I saw some of them…shopping on the news earlier,” Warren said, thinking uneasily back to the sight of a 7-foot-tall amazon dragging her husband along with her to the changing rooms, so he could “make sure the bra fit right.” It was then that Warren suddenly got an idea.

“Um h-hey, Irina, uhhhh, c-can…can I propose something?”

“Well sure Warren,” she said gently, privately wondering, “What is it?”

“I…I was just thinking that maybe…uh, maybe you could stay here tonight and…and I could express order some new clothes for you…online?”

Irina stood there for a moment, looking down at him. She hadn’t expected this proposition, but the more she thought about it, as the seconds ticked by, the more she liked the idea. Little Warren, buying her clothes? He’d have to think over and over about her proportions, her dimensions…he’d be fixated on them…he’d get off to it, surely. She got wetter still.

“Awww, Warren, that’s such a sweet idea to have,” she began, toying with him. “But you see, I mean, this top here is getting sooooo tight on me. Like, I can feel it digging into my breasts…you see here? You see this? Hahaha, like, another night or so and I won’t even be able to fit into this bra at all. So you see, I really think I should —”

“Oh! B-but…but express order, with the premium account I have,” cut in Warren quickly, “Will…will get you the products in…in like, less than a day…less than half a day, if I pay for priority shipping. I…I can take care of it, Irina…uh…r-really.”

Irina was positively glowing with arousal now. She had known all of this before; she just wanted to see how badly Warren wanted her to stay with him, and now she had seen it — he had abandoned all pretense of casualness, and had launched into full-scale desperation mode. She smiled down at him warmly, and even let one of the corners of her mouth curve upwards into the aroused smirk she was barely holding back from spilling out across her face. She wanted to do things to him…she wanted to mash his little face into her breasts…to pinch his little mouth open and shove her big fat nipple inside it, and squeeze her breast, pumping a thick stream of her creamy white milk into his stomach…

But she was getting ahead of herself; she noticed she was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling above Warren’s head as he stared up at them helplessly. Irina laughed out loud to break the silence.

“Hahaha! Well alright Warren!” she exclaimed. “I won’t say no to that — really, I don’t deserve an…employer like you! Buying me clothes and everything! Here, I’ll just send you a quick text…with my measurements…aaaaaand done! You’re so sweet, Warren, you know that?”

“Ahaha, it’s…it’s no problem at all, Irina,” laughed Warren, feeling immense relief despite the fact that his face was still flushed. Everything suddenly seemed, maybe a bit more normal…? Maybe…?

“Well on that note,” said Irina heartily, “Let me go make your supper. Won’t be too long!”

“Ok, heh…uh, thanks,” smiled Warren, looking up at her bashfully before once agains gawking at her huge ass as she walked out the door. Almost immediately, Warren opened his laptop and started searching for maid’s outfits, but not before he had hurriedly checked his phone to see her measurements.

‘Oh my god,’ he thought to himself, ‘46-inch hips!? Already?? And…a 51-inch bust??’

It took nearly all of Warren’s willpower not to start stroking his cock right then and there. His face was flushed with a renewed red, his breath was coming in short, shallow bursts, and the sweat that had beaded on his forehead was now actually beginning to trickle down into his eyelashes. But Warren doubled down, remembering that he owed this to Irina. This was a professional exchange, nothing more.

But very quickly, Warren found himself lost in the world of online shopping for Irina. At first, it was just for “Irina the housekeeper.” He was able to quickly find a series of maid outfits that fit the exact proportions she had given him, and Warren even ordered a couple additional outfits that were slightly bigger. He had been reminded to do this by an all-caps reminder on the website that read: “REMEMBER: Order UP…because who knows how BIG you’ll GET!”

But Warren didn’t stop at maid outfits. A tiny voice in his head noted that he probably SHOULD stop, since his cart had everything that Irina needed, but he just…couldn’t stop. Not yet. He had to get her…something more. He found himself searching for designer clothes, choosing a skirt there, and a blouse there, a dress here and a top there, that he thought would look good on her…and not just “good” — sexy.

He didn’t stop at clothes, either. Within 5 minutes, he was adding fancy pairs of heels to his cart, choosing more modest ones at first, and then throwing caution to the wind as he splurged on more and more stylish ones, eventually bending to the will of some shiny black 6-inch platform boots that he hungrily added to his list. The heels gradually morphed into lingerie, and if Irina had walked into the bedroom now, it would have been obvious that Warren was shopping with his right hand, and stroking his cock with his left. He hadn’t climaxed yet, but the mere act of shopping for Irina was one big, long edging.

‘God she would look so amazing in dark red,’ Warren thought, almost starting to drool as he added yet another expensive dress to his cart. ‘And that red and black combo? Oh my godddd….she’d…she’d look so fierce…but…but also so…so…’

He couldn’t bring himself to think of the word “motherly,” and yet, after 15 minutes of sheer indulgence, he found himself searching for maternity items. It was all so surreal — he couldn’t believe that this was happening,that he was actually doing this right now…bigger bras for engorged breasts…a breast pump for milk…even…even a bib…for himself…

Warren couldn’t stop…he couldn’t stop, at least until he added the bib to the cart. That seemed to be stepping over the line. He was buying things for himself now. He blinked at the screen, not really seeing anything for about half a minute, until he realized that he had climaxed into his comforter. He quickly reached over and got some tissues out to clean up the mess. He didn’t want Irina to know it had happened. But she was still downstairs, fixing him dinner. It was all cleaned up…the tissues were hidden away under his mattress…she wouldn’t be able to find them…

And now, all that remained was just to officially buy everything. Being the agoraphobe he was, Warren’s shipping information was already entered into the site, since he did all his shopping virtually. But when the time came to look at the final price, the number made even Warren Du Pont pause.

“Sixteen…thousand dollars!?” he whispered out to himself in disbelief. Never before had he been tempted to spend so much money, at one time, on something. He had inherited his mansion; he never drove a car…he had never had any good reason to spend so much on something, or someone…until now.

‘But it’s so much, though,’ he thought, pausing, his finger hovering over the mouse pad. “So much…on clothes and…and shoes…and…all that other stuff…for…for HER. What’ll she think!? Is it all too much? Will she freak out? Am I going too far?!’

Warren sat there, his finger poised, thinking through it all. He was about to spend sixteen thousand dollars on fancy clothes for his housekeeper…all with the simple click of a button. It would all be delivered within a matter of hours…everything. Was he actually going to do this?? No, he couldn’t — it was crazy — HE was crazy. This was the virus talking, surely…but the seconds kept ticking by, and he didn’t move his finger…until…

He clicked “buy,” and the purchase went through. Warren exhaled audibly, feeling an immense wave of arousal course through him as he submitted all that wealth, all those potential resources, to Irina. If he hadn’t just cum a minute before, he would have certainly cum now.

But just a minute or two later, Warren started to have second thoughts — or, more accurately, he wasn’t sure how Irina was going to take all of this. Would she be mad? Upset? Confused? He didn’t know, and he started to feel anxious. He switched on the news again, and beheld, once again, the augmented fresh face of that mid-20’s blond reporter, Aly Singleton. But she was standing next to a little man, bending down low with her microphone to interview him. He looked like a little kid next to her….either he was like 3 feet tall, or she was over 7 feet tall…or…or…

Warren could feel a different kind of sweat start to break out across his forehead as his heart rate started to rise. His lungs felt smaller and smaller with each passing moment. It was starting to happen again…the telltale signs of a panic attack.