The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

VIII

Oh God. John’s thoughts became newly frantic. Oh no. He recoiled at the doctor’s words. The possibilities, the inevitabilities, made him cringe. They can’t be serious. They can’t send me home with her. I’ll disappear. His eyes shot open and an arm raised into the air, searching to catch the doctor’s attention. But he was already nearly out the door, with his back turned. “I’ll get the staff to get John dressed, gather his things and make sure a transport van is ready,” were his parting words.

“Thank you, doctor,” Julia called after him. A smile returned to her face as she brought her gaze back down to her husband. “Now won’t that be better? Back in your own house. In your own bed. With your wife there to take care of you.” Disturbing images flashed through his mind. What were her plans for him? She was obviously beside herself with satisfaction. “We’re going to have so much fun together, all alone. No one to disturb us.” She ran her hand up his leg and began to slowly massage his member, already semi-aroused, through his robe. He stiffened painfully. “Think of what we can accomplish.” Her eyes met his. She grasped on more firmly to him, sheathed in cotton, and gently began to pass her hand up and down his length. “Imagine what we could be together.” She smiled thinly. His eyes closed as he began to lose himself in her touch and her hypnotic words. “That’s right. Picture it. Picture you and me.” He saw them in bed, he locked in her embrace. He saw her standing over him, her head soaring towards the cathedral ceilings of their home, he curled at her feet. A swell of hunger rolled through him. “It can all come true. I can fulfill all your fantasies for you.” Her hand felt so good. It held him so confidently, squeezing and stroking him in perfect rhythm. She’s right. She’s all I ever dreamed about. Electric tremors began to run through him. “Everything you ever wanted in your deepest, most secret desires. I can do it all for you. We can do it together.” Christ. He was going to come. There was no stopping it now. He hated himself for it. For his weakness. “Soon, John. Soon I’ll have you home. So very soon.” He decided fighting was useless and let himself go.

“Woops!” she exclaimed softly as she abruptly dropped his member and straightened his gown. His eyes were suddenly wide. What happened? Why did she stop? A nurse had entered the room and was looking straight at him, her eyes and mouth agape in shock. His every muscle was coiled, his hospital gown tented and quivering. “He must be excited to see you,” Julia said wryly to the nurse while sitting demurely by his side. He tried to stop but could not. It was too late. He clamped his eyes in shame and came into his robe. The nurse gasped, sputtered something nervously, and spun from the room. His orgasm was fading as Julia placed her hand back on him and rubbed his wetness into his skin as she whispered into his ear, “That was a freebie. But the rest, love, are for me.” She rose. He turned to watch her leave the room, her hips swaying lasciviously, firm flesh undulating beneath her skirt.

In the doorway, without as much as a glance, Julia passed the nurse as she returned with an armload of John’s clothing and clean bedding. “Well, Dr. Blake,” the nurse intoned as she began to remove his robe with obvious distaste, “I guess you’re going home.” He soon dropped into a deep sleep.

IX

“Welcome home, baby!” He woke with a start. He was seated in a wheelchair and being pulled from the back of a van. Julia smiled exuberantly with arms outstretched in greeting as she watched the pair of EMTs lower her husband to the ground. She bent at the waist and hugged him tightly to her, kissing the top of his head. “Was your ride ok? Are you still alright sitting up?” He squinted at the setting sun, which burned at his retinas, and noticed his dull aches of hunger. It was early evening. He couldn’t remember a thing since that morning at the hospital. Julia was snapping orders at the men wheeling him towards the front door, obviously displeased that his discharge took so long. They were leering obviously at her body, which at one time would have made her uncomfortable. But she was done with being intimidated or overly impressed by the attention of men. Her husband. Her father. Her realization of the power she had over them was growing by the day. “Follow me this way. We’ll set him up in the bedroom.” She could feel the silent heat of the men’s stares as she strode ahead of them; they gazed at her lustfully. Like dogs.

Through the great room and into the master wing, the trip brought back memories to John of a life long past. Wine by candlelight. Hanging canvases over the mantle. Extravagantly prepared breakfasts hurriedly consumed en route to early morning surgery. Ancient history. That life was over. He was wheeled into the spacious bedroom suite. From this point onward, all that mattered lay right in front of him: his tall, beautiful wife who stood with hands clasped in front of her, and an enormous bed.

Shrinking or not, he thought, that bed is huge. What happened? “I didn’t think our king-size was going to be quite big enough anymore,” she offered, interpreting his bafflement, “I had this one custom made. Industrial size. Industrial strength.” That thing, he thought, is big enough for a...giant. He swallowed nervously. The EMTs looked to each other and shrugged as they moved to lift John from his chair.

“No, stop,” she commanded, stopping them in their tracks, “I can do this.” The men stepped back with apprehension as Julia approached her husband. With a confident smile and her eyes locked on his, she bent slowly. John cringed. Oh no, he thought, she wouldn’t. Her arms slipped around him, one behind his back and one below his thighs, and she hoisted him into the air. Holding him in her arms, she gazed deep into his soul and watched his pride melt away even further. He’s mine, now. All mine. She walked the several steps to the bed, eyes still fixed on his, and lowered him gently into his huge, warm nest. He felt lost on the mattress’ wide expanse.

She turned her back to him and waved the others out of the room. As they left with the wheelchair, she propped him up with some pillows and whispered playfully to him, “I’ll be right back. Now don’t you go anywhere.” She followed after the pair to show them out, affording him several moments alone to surmise his situation. The bedroom was, aside from the arrival of this gargantuan bed, much the same as it had been left before their vacation. The ceilings soared past twenty feet, as they did throughout much of the house. Decoration was sparse but elegant. Large skylights allowed for an open, airy atmosphere. Across the room—to him it may as well have been a thousand miles—the bedroom door hung open. As all the doors in their home, it was a huge, dramatic portal of heavy oak hanging on iron hinges. Would he ever pass through it again? His emotions lay in a tangled mess of sadness, fear and, he had to admit, anxious excitement and anticipation.

“Are you still ok in there?” he heard her call from the adjacent changing room, “They’re gone now. You can relax.” His mind did ease a bit as he listened to her voice, which sounded—for a change—quite sober and levelheaded. Maybe things have changed. He grasped at a leg of hope. Maybe I have my wife back. “You know, I gave my old agent a call yesterday. I thought I might get a photo shoot arranged. To see how the ‘new me’ looks on camera.” Why would she want to do that? he thought, we certainly don’t need the money. His disability—and life, if it came to that—insurance was more than adequate to keep her living in the style to which she was accustomed. “I told him I looked a little different. He was reluctant, but said he’d meet with me at his office tomorrow. This could be the start of something big for me.” His thoughts began to get a bit more confused. Where was she going with this? The image of her posing in front of a camera swept several emotions through him—jealousy and apprehension, but most of all arousal. She knew she was slowly changing into a veritable sex goddess. And now, it seemed, she wanted the world to know about it. “I thought you might like to help me choose out something to wear.”

All hopes that she had returned to her senses were dashed when she reappeared in the doorway wearing little more than an evil grin across her face. In truth, she was wearing what, on anyone else, would be called a striped blue tube top and a pair of tiny white bikini briefs. On her, it could hardly be called clothing. He could not stop himself from ogling her from head to toe. There was so much of her, and in such proportions. She looked so soft, yet so strong. He physically felt his jaw drop. “I know it’s a little small,” she teased, delighted with his reaction, “it was even a little small on me before I started to grow. But I think you always liked it.” She approached his bed, sashaying her tan, muscular hips to and fro. She knelt by his side and pulled the sheets from him, noticing the bulge swelling in his sweatpants and affording him a fine view of her cleavage. “And it looks like you still do.” She stood, inhaled deeply and straightened her back, thrusting her breasts forward. The sharp sound of fabric ripping brought a gleeful “Ooo!” from her as she quickly threw up her hands in a vain attempt to cover the wide expanse of her breasts, her top falling to the floor. She seemed delighted. Though her hands obscured her nipples, the rest of her heavy, firm, round flesh hung exposed for his eyes. “That was fun! But, I guess I won’t be wearing that tomorrow!” She turned her fine rear to him and tossed a look over her shoulder, hands still at her chest, “any suggestions?” He met her with a mute stare, but quickly averted his eyes. Does she know what she’s doing to me? His member throbbed. His heart raced. Yes, he thought, of course she does.

As she left the room again for another change of clothes, beads of sweat began to form on his brow. He was alarmed that, as he had begun to feel healthier over the past days, his libido had strengthened as well. It set on him like a fever, pulling his hand down between his legs. He rubbed himself through his clothes, aching for release. He was wary for her return; he did not want her to see him like this. “Are you ready?” she called, and he quickly brought his hands back to his chest, “here I come.”

X

Oh Christ. His breathing quickened. Look at her. Chris Christ Christ. She sauntered in again, still in her white panties but covering her chest with a small t-top, the word “Lush” stitched in black and stretched across her full bosom. “Oh darling,” she cooed as she leaned over the foot of his bed, “you’re sweating.” She bent further forward, squeezing her breasts together with her elbows, a seductive cheesecake pose for his benefit. His jaw went slack as he began to pant. She put one knee up onto the edge of the giant bed, then the other. Her eyes were carnivorous. Soon she was on all fours, crawling like a beast of prey up the bed towards him. “You need to cool down, baby,” she said wantonly as she reached him, “I don’t want you overheating too early.” She straddled his shrunken legs with hers and proceeded to unbutton his blue flannel shirt. He could not, for the life of him, take his eyes from her chest. Heavy masses of flesh beckoned him from below their confines. His hunger surged. His sex howled. Her eyes watched his.

As she finished with the last of his buttons, she leaned forward to pull the shirt from his shoulders. Her breasts were tantalizingly close to his face, he could smell her flesh. His mouth began to water. “Oh yes. It would taste so good right now, wouldn’t it?” She brushed her clothed teat up his chin and over his lips as she yanked the shirt from him and tossed it aside. She hung her breasts in front of his face for an agonizing display. “So warm and soft. So lush.” He whined feebly and worked his jaw. She sat back onto her haunches, hands on her knees. “Don’t you worry, I’ll feed you later. I want you nice and hungry.” She began to play with the elastic of his sweatpants. “Do you like my little fashion show?” she asked, pulling on his waistband, slowly lowering it down his hips, “Do you like looking at my body?” She inched further down towards his feet as she continued to pull his pants from him. His manhood stood, quivering, as her answer. She had his pants around his knees; she leaned forward and—eyes still locked on his—brought her smiling face inches from his erection. She whispered, “I want you to show me how much.”

With that she rose from the bed and drifted again from the room. His eyes followed her walk as she disappeared from sight. He could take no more; his hand went to his member and began to stroke slowly, rubbing with a half-open hand. Guilt and shame welled within him, but he was at the mercy of his intense sexual drive and the images of her womanly form. He craned his neck backward on his pillow and clamped his eyes shut as the pleasurable sensations of his self-stimulation overtook him. Mental pictures of Julia streamed through his mind. The way the cotton of her t-top had strained over her cleavage as it hovered so close to his mouth. How her flesh blossomed magnificently in mountainous swells from her collarbone. The flare of those great hips from her taut, narrow waist. If he could come now, he thought, he might find brief respite from her torture when she returned.

“Now, now. Aren’t we the eager little one? You’re not going to get off that easy.” He was startled back to reality by her voice. His modesty and dignity pleaded with him to pull his hand quickly away, but as his eyes darted across the room to her, he knew he would not be able to muster the willpower. She stood posing below a spotlight just beyond the end of his bed in a tiny two-piece swimsuit. “Tonight I’m going to make you ache.” She knew his weakness for her body in bathing suits, even before her transformation. He kept in his wallet a snapshot of her from an old photo shoot for a swimwear catalog; she must have looked like a scrawny schoolgirl then, she thought, compared to the statuesque vision before him now. “Show me what you think of this.” She ran her hands over her body as she tossed her blonde mane over her shoulder with a dramatic sweep of her long neck and inspected herself in the full-length mirror. Are you ready for a real woman, little man?

She nearly glowed as she flexed her thighs and watched the thick, lean muscles as they worked below her golden skin. Pride flushed through her at the sight of her round, muscular buttocks and flat abdomen. “I worked out in this last night, you know. Wouldn’t you like to have seen that?” As her strong arms drifted behind her head and her shoulders pressed back, she riveted him with her haughty gaze in the mirror, watching him as he masturbated to this fantastic sight. She felt so powerful.

Though he had so little strength in his body, he had no choice but to use it all in his worship of her. He continued to rub himself into his belly with his hand as his eyes explored her every curve. He felt beyond shame and beyond all sense of control over his actions. She turned and approached him. “Do you see how strong I’m getting?” He felt his heart catch in his throat. “I’d like to see him try to push me around now.” She was speaking of her father, but he hardly heard her. He was losing himself. She sat alongside him in bed and looked at him aloofly, watching his eyes avoiding hers in their long passes over her bountiful figure. Her proximity incited his desire even more; he took himself full into his own hand and began long, smooth strokes. The bright, floral print bikini pressed into her softness and stretched like a second skin in its inadequate attempts at covering her ripe flesh.

He had been reduced so far, but she continued to chip away at him. She leaned closer into him, bringing her breasts near his face. His eyes glazed over and his tongue lolled as he gawked at the valley of her cleavage. Look at the way he’s staring at me. I’m too much for him, she thought with smug satisfaction, he can’t control himself. She peered at him with silent derision as she watched him in his vigorous efforts at achieving climax. Do all men dream of a woman with a body like mine? Are they all this weak? I suppose so.

“I bet you’d like to play with your wife’s big breasts,” she purred as she pushed a few loose strands of hair over her shoulder. “I bet you’d like me to rub them right into your face, hmm?” She saw his other hand tremble as he raised it towards her chest. “No no no, sweetie,” she gently stopped his hand, placing her fingertips against his, as it moved closer to her, “tonight there’s no touching. Just looking.” She inhaled deeply, “But you can look all you want,” her breasts strained against the fabric. “I just have one thing you need to do for me,” she produced a small jar from the nightstand and placed it in his hand, “save yourself in this.”

His mind was lost in delirium and barely registered her command, focused intently on her flesh. She turned a bit away and brought her legs up underneath her at his side, putting her massive thighs and magnificent, heart-shaped bottom directly in front of him. “How’s this for a change of scenery?” The fabric of her bikini, cut high up her hip, accentuated her curves and nearly disappeared into their shadowed roundure as she turned more of her back towards him and leaned over, presenting herself wantonly to him. He gasped audibly and continued his uninhibited flagellations. “It’s so tight, John. So firm.” Her hair fell down her back, she gazed up at the ceiling as she spoke, “Look at it. Look how big and strong it is.” She arched her lower back more, bringing him so very close to climax. His eyes strained, unblinking, at the sight of her. She was so big. So beautiful. He began to whine as his orgasm overtook him.

She threw her head over her shoulder to watch him come. Her proud smile quickly disappeared into anger as she saw the bottle lying by his side, his member spraying spasmodically onto his chest and bed linens. “What are you doing!?” she nearly screamed, “I told you I wanted this saved! Didn’t you hear me?!” She spun quickly and grabbed the bottle, catching his remaining load and gathering what she could from his skin and sheets. He watched her dumbly, as lethargy began to creep through his bones. “I don’t want you to do that EVER again!” Consumed with rage, she raised an open hand and pulled her arm back, preparing to strike him a mighty blow across the face. At that moment, she wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp. That would teach him to defy her. His eyes grew wide with shock as he was suddenly snapped back to reality. She could see the fear in his eyes. He recoiled and clamped his lids shut, steeling himself for the pain.

She looked down at his quivering face, so close to tears. How pathetic. He was shaking with fear, but otherwise motionless. Too weak for any defense. She saw he was ready to take whatever punishment she had for him. Memories of the beatings she took as a child flooded into her. She could hurt him so bad. She could have her revenge.

But, no, she thought as she forced herself to relax. Her compassion and a cool logic gradually eclipsed her violent impulses. She drew a long, slow breath and lowered her hand. As she gathered herself and rose from the bed, bottle in hand, John reopened his eyes. “Just go to sleep,” she said as she left the room, “you need your rest.” It was many minutes before the frantic pounding in his chest quieted and allowed him peace.

XI

His night’s rest was fitful. His hunger gnawed at him tirelessly and the recurring image of Julia’s enraged visage, her eyes afire with anger and violence, haunted him like a specter. When he did pass into sleep, he was belabored with dreams which grew harder and harder to distinguish from reality.

You pathetic little worm! Her voice boomed as she rose on her knees above him on the bed, Do you know how easily I could break you to pieces?! He cowered below her, quivering in abject fear. She had somehow become gigantic, rippling from head to toe in powerful muscles. Exploding with unearthly power. And, visibly, she was still growing. You feeble, miserable little man! Look at me! Look at the size of me! I’m gigantic! She was like a huge marble statue towering threateningly, chiseled and smooth. Somehow her clothes still contained her, but they were being shred from her expanding form like tissue paper. I could pop your head like a grape! I could grind your bones into dust! Can you imagine that? How would it feel?! Tell me! Frightened gibbering was his only response. She fell onto her hands and brought her huge face close to his. Her hair fell all around him, like a soft, golden curtain blocking out the rest of the world. Her smell was everywhere, sweet and pervasive. A white-hot fire beamed from her eyes into him, glowing with supernatural beauty, blue and indigo and silver. He looked at her gleaming, cruel smile, her perfect lips. So moist. She was so beautiful. You would like it, wouldn’t you? She knew instantly of his arousal; she could read his thoughts. He could hide nothing from her. I should crush you, she whispered, I should crush you like the insignificant bug that you are. He could feel her growing all around him, her mass so close to blotting out his own. She smiled wider, reveling in his submission to her awesome, enveloping physical power. She grew more, and more, and more, and then drew back again to her haunches, laughing to shake the heavens. She was titanic. Absolutely colossal. And he was so small. She looked down at him with dancing eyes and brought her mighty arms above her head, hands balled into fists. The thunder in his heart was deafening. Wrath was gathered about her like storm clouds. Her lids narrowed and her mouth widened into a vicious, unholy snarl as she screamed with earth-shattering force and brought all of her awesome strength down onto him.

He woke suddenly in a cold sweat. “Shhh..hush...it was only a dream. Everything’s okay now.” She was in bed with him, holding him to her. He was terrified; his eyes flew in a frenzy about the room, looking for escape. His mind, so fresh from its terrifying dream, struggled irrationally with reality. She’s here to kill me. Feeble attempts to bolt upright, to break from her embrace, were quieted by her strong arms. She was seated up in bed and had him propped up against her, head against her shoulder. “Sounds like you were having a nightmare. Not about me, I hope?” She trapped his gaze and smiled benevolently down at him. His wide eyes drank in the sight as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings, to bring himself back from his nightmare. The room was nearly dark, but she seemed bathed in an angelic glow. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to let anything hurt you.” Her soft words, like a lilting melody to his ears, began to calm him. The familiar maternal aura radiated from her, wrapping itself around him and filling the room, stronger and more pervasive than ever. She seemed so gentle, such contrast from the woman in his dream.

No sooner did his fear begin to fade than his hunger woke with a vengeance. It tore at his every tissue, immobilizing him in a grip of hot coals. The perfumed aroma of her flesh fed its fire; her breasts, laden with milk, were so close. He was aghast at his driving need for her. His eyes drifted down to her chest, seeking comfort. His nerves settled some more as his vision roamed the expanse of her cleavage. Her breasts were covered in the pale blue satin of her short lingerie, which fell just past her broad hips. “That’s right,” she said, “I’m here now. You’re safe with me.” She shifted her shoulders, affording him a better view. He was slowly being soothed, almost hypnotized, by her great swells of flesh and the deep valley running between them, disappearing into darkness.

“I’m here to protect you,” she cooed, “to keep you safe. To keep you warm. To make you feel nice. To love you, to feed you.” Her voice was like a lullaby as she stroked his hair. He rubbed his cheek against the soft skin of her shoulder, so comforting, and began to cover it slowly with light kisses. “That’s a good boy. Nice and calm.” She let him rest there in her arms, enjoying the tranquil warmth of her body. His kisses faded into a light, steady suction on her skin as he began to feel drowsy, despite his great hunger.

Before he could doze, however, she pulled him away from her a bit into the crook of her arm, speaking to him again in sweet whispers. His eyes fluttered to meet hers. “John, I love you so much, and I know you love me too. And I realize how hard these past days have been for you. You’ve seen yourself change from a strong, confident man who had everything, who depended on nobody but himself, to what you are now. You’re so very weak. You can barely move. My milk, the only food you can take to keep you alive, is making you smaller. You depend on me. You depend on me for everything. Like a little infant.”

His eyes drifted in shame from her face down her elegant throat to her chest. He was so hungry. She pulled the loose hair from her shoulder over the back of her neck. “I realize it must be difficult, but you have to stop thinking as my husband. You need to stop thinking of me just as your wife. You see how big I’m getting? It’s all for you. So I can provide for you.” As he watched her bosom heave and fall with her breath, she slowly lowered the strap of her lingerie halfway off her shoulder. It began to drift slowly down her arm, the heft of her breast keeping the satin from falling from her. “Wives don’t do these things for their husbands. You need to start thinking like a baby. For nourishment. For warmth. For comfort.”

Both their heartbeats were beginning to quicken as they felt their relationship shifting to a new level. She was reveling in his acquiescence and in her own maternal power. He felt a sibilant thrill in giving more of himself to her, surrendering additionally his wilted pride. “I’m your wife, but I can be so much more. So much more for you, John.” She reached to the nightstand, and from the corner of his eye he saw her bring something to her lips. She let out a soft, cooing sigh as she bathed him in the balmy warmth that began to emanate from her body. She rocked him to and fro tenderly, “I can be everything for you. You can be my little baby.” His breathing shallowed and his loins clenched with yearning as he saw her start to expand. The soft flesh of her breasts was slowly creeping up past the boundary of her nightclothes, making him more ravenous. He could feel her arm growing below his head, his own body drifting gradually up from the mattress. “I can hold you and rock you and feed you. It can be so nice.” He began to moan softly, as if in agreement. As her breasts continued in their growth, the shimmering fabric fell further from her, only her large nipple keeping it aloft. “It can be so warm and soft for you. You can have all you ever wanted, all you’ll ever need. Warmth, Comfort,” she shifted her shoulder a bit and inhaled, “Milk.” With that her breast emerged, the cloth falling towards her hips. He moaned again quietly as he stared now into her soft milky flesh, expanding seemingly before his eyes, beckoning him.

“How does that make you feel, hmm? That I’m going to have you as my little baby? That every day I’m going to breastfeed you, making you smaller and smaller.” She knew his hunger. She knew what she was doing to him. Her hand brought the remaining strap off her other shoulder, fully exposing her bosom. Though she had already stripped him of his dignity, she wanted more from him. He began to form feeble sounds as he gazed longingly at her, trying to call her to him. “You can nurse from me all you want. Day in and day out. Drinking my warm milk. Feeling my soft, full breasts up against your face, up against all of you as they get bigger and bigger.” The noises from between his closed lips took greater shape, almost as if in search of a word. “That’s right, baby. I can be so much more than your wife. So much more.” His attention was focused solely now on her great nipple, which slowly swelled in anticipation of his waiting lips. But she kept it from him, inches away. His sounds became more repetitive, “Mmm...mmm...mmm...” It was as if he was a child attempting speech for the first time.

Her eyes sparkled. “Yes. Yes. I know you want it. I know you want it so bad. But you need to say it. You need to say my name. Do that for me and it can all be yours.” Her lips curled to a half-smile as a drop of milk appeared on her, beckoning. “Mm...mmma...mm...mma...” She had him, and she knew it. “Say it for me.” She let her milk down in a rush, causing more to gather at her nipple and a thin rivulet to run under the curve of her breast.

“Mmma..mma...m-ma...mama. Ma-ma. Ma-ma.” His words fell weakly over his lips, half in a whine, but to her they were music. Her heart rose triumphantly even as something inside him wilted. It was done. He had accepted her completely as his mother, himself as her infant. He could debase himself no further; his submission to her was total. “That’s right, baby,” she whispered, “come to mama.” She took his face into her hand and brought it towards her breast, leaning into him. A strange sense of peace passed into him as he took her nipple between his lips; he felt relief in knowing that he was too far past any sense of normalcy to resist her will or his own desires. He could take all the milk he could from her, he could shrink further and further without fear. No dignity was left to pain him. All hope of returning to his past life had disappeared like a wisp of smoke. His once great pride had faded to a flicker and was then snuffed out. He would resist nothing. He would bask in her beauty and power, feeding off her when he could, worshipping her always. As her milk began to flow into his eager mouth, he nestled into her. Her soft flesh rolled around his lips and pressed into his face, all but smothering him. He could feel his weight shifting in her arms again, though this time not on account of her growth. He was becoming smaller. Good, he thought. He became aroused, the sensation of shrinking in her arms excited him like nothing before. Engulfed in her warm bosom, his mind blurred to a blank. He began to gurgle and moan, eyes clamped shut as he sucked furiously upon her great teat.

She felt it, too. “Good boy. Good, good boy,” the flow of her milk through her nipple into his mouth was nearly electric, “drink it all up. There’s so much for you.” She watched as her husband dwindled in her arms, taking her milk like a nursling. His head was dwarfed by her enormous breast. He became lighter and lighter as he took her in great swallows, and soon she had him full on her lap like a child. She was amazed, thrilled, at how small he was becoming, fully illustrating for her eyes what she knew already deep in her chest: her power over him was complete. His hand had already fallen between his legs and had begun to inch him along his way towards climax. She brought her free hand down, cupping his scrotum and massaging him tenderly. “Mmmm..doesn’t that feel nice? Do you like it when I touch you there?” She squeezed him gently, causing his stomach to tighten in pleasurable convulsions. “Aren’t mommy’s breasts big? Hmm? Big, big breasts for her little boy.” Moments passed as they both enjoyed the feelings of one another’s body.

She pressed his face more firmly into her bosom when his suckling began to slow, but soon realized he was becoming full. His stomach had bloated noticeably and milk was beginning to run down his face. She paused in reflection for a bit, her smile widening. She pulled his mouth from her nipple let his head fall slowly towards the mattress. With one strong hand below his hips she raised his engorged member up to meet her lips as she bent forward to receive him. “Now, mama’s going to make you feel nice.” His eyes shot open and he groaned loudly as she took him into her mouth. Her big, moist lips ran slowly over his taut skin; his entire shaft disappeared into her wide mouth, only to slide back out again. Her soft hair fell all around him. She gradually spun him around on the bed, propping him up on pillows so she could settle herself between his shrunken legs. Never did he leave her mouth. He was wracked from head to toe in luxurious pleasure, watching as her big head passed up and down his erection.

She paused in mid-stroke, and brought her lips down his shaft to its base. She was filled with a giddy sense of power. There was so much room left in her mouth. Dare she try? She did. She opened her mouth wider and moved forward, slowly taking his entire sac into her mouth. Her grin broadened as she brought him in deeper yet, all his manhood beyond her teeth. Her tongue played back and forth under him as she reveled in her thoughts. She could do it right there. She could emasculate him completely. Almost playfully she closed her jaw a fraction, watching intently as he tossed his head back and forth in a mix of pain and ecstasy. She sucked firmly on him several times, and could feel the pre-cum dripping into her throat, like fiery dollops of molten steel.

Again she began to grow. He could feel her mouth growing around him. He was filling less and less of her mouth by the instant. The all-consuming lust pushing him to burst forth into her was tempered by the anxiety of facing total castration in her mouth. Feeling the fear shiver through his skin, she gnawed gently on him. Despite his precarious position, his hips pushed forward rhythmically up towards her, seeking to push himself deeper. He was absolutely at her mercy; her tongue played roughly against him. She could take all his manhood from him. There will come a day, she thought with a smile, where more of you will fit in me.

His thoughts were similar as he began to come. His orgasm exploded in her mouth like a fireball, bringing more power to her. His fluid brought more intense heat to her than ever before, nearly sizzling as she ran it around her mouth and relished every swallow. She sucked and sucked, drawing all of him down into her, coating her throat. Its energy pervaded her body and fueled her growth. His member in her mouth became less and less significant. When he was all but dry, she sat back and allowed him to watch her expansion. His lids were already heavy, but the sight nonetheless captivated his attention. His eyes lolled in his head as she swelled to new proportions, beyond those of any woman he had ever seen. Her great shoulders broadened, her muscular legs thickened. The wild mane atop her head lengthened.

He was near unconsciousness. “Oh, Johnny. Mommy’s getting so big. So, so big.” With that she leaned over and, arms astride him, watched as his eyelids drooped shut. Bringing her face to his, she enveloped his lips in hers and kissed him wetly. “Goodnight, baby,” she whispered as he fell to slumber and she curled in the bed around him, her mass so great next to his own.

XII

Julia woke to the sounds of sparrows. Sunlight filled the room with an early glow and the air smelled sweet as she drew a huge breath into her lungs. She sat up halfway and looked down at her husband’s senseless form curled in a fetal ball next to her. He was so small, certainly less than five feet now. Her milk, she thought, must be having greater and greater effects on him. And then she looked down at herself. She stretched, and watched her great limbs flexing. How large could she be now?

She remembered the meeting she had planned at the modeling office. Looking at the bedside clock, she knew she had ample time to put herself together. Rising slowly for the shower, a hint of anxiety crept into her. Her agent hadn’t sounded convinced yesterday on the phone. Her best days were behind her, he said. This is a job for younger girls, he said. Even if you are a little taller, he warned, if your tits are bigger, all I’ll be able to get you is some porno work. And you don’t want to do topless, still? Good luck. His words still made her skin crawl under the shower’s warm spray.

She would show him. She would show them all. Her thoughts were becoming heated as she stepped, still dripping, to the measuring tape on the wall. Would this be enough to prove what she could do? Or is a—by her new measurements—six-foot six amazon not anything special? She gazed into the full-length mirror with a faint smile and a flutter of trepidation. With a body like Venus? Wouldn’t she be an instant sex symbol? Perhaps she was overly full, as he had said. Too much. But could the world resist a woman who could grow right in front of their eyes? Every day bigger and more beautiful? Her husband worshipped her, wouldn’t every man?

What she needed to do was demonstrate unequivocally her potential. She needed to go to her meeting ready to grow, to prove she could be like no woman before her. Then they would have no doubt. Then nothing could stop her.

She drifted back to the bed wrapped tightly in her bath towel and with a plot in mind. She looked to her husband’s immobile body; he had rolled onto his back but appeared still deep in sleep. As small and feeble as he was, he remained the wellspring of her growth. His juices held in them the power to build her into what she knew she could be: a celebrity, a star, a goddess of unequalled beauty, desired by every man on the planet.

She removed a glass jar from the bedside table and climbed onto the bed, perched high on her knees at his feet. Her eyes fixed on his expressionless face, she dropped the towel from her body, exposing her giant breasts and smooth curves. Even unconscious, his body responded to hers; perhaps it was the smell of her naked flesh, but his erection rose from the bed. She slowly lowered herself towards him, bringing her bosom inches from his member. Supporting herself with one hand, she used the other to guide him to the flesh of her heavy, hanging breast. She rubbed the head of his shaft up against her silky skin, back and forth upon her nipple. He hardened more, though his even breathing and peaceful face assured her he was still asleep.

Lowering herself further onto him, she placed him in her deep cleavage. He disappeared into, was completely absorbed by, the mountains of her flesh around him. Gently she began to run her breasts up and down along him, pressing her softness into him rhythmically. She could feel him grow harder still, though he continued to show no movement. He was sleeping through one of the most majestic tit-fucks the world had possibly ever seen. Her big, smooth globes passed in great waves over him, and he showed little more than a slight quiver in his lips.

Soon, droplets of moisture appeared on him as the head of his erection would peek for an instant from her cleavage. Subtle tremors ran through his body. Jar on the ready, Julia smiled and quickened her pace, pressing him more firmly into her lush valley. This is too easy, she thought. His member had turned dark shades of red and purple, swollen and ready. She sensed his impending climax, and moved the bottle over him. One final pass of her full bosom brought him over the edge; he began to spit his warm, creamy fluid into her awaiting jar. She raised up a bit and brought her hand to his shaft, squeezing and urging him onward, milking him for every last drop.

She shook her head in amazement as she peered up the bed at him; somehow he was still asleep. Equally amazing was the amount of seed she was able to get from him. It had only been several hours from their nighttime session, but he had just filled her bottle above and beyond what she’d expect from any man. If she could gather this much from him on a regular basis with so little effort, the possibilities were endless. How much more could she grow? Could she reach seven feet? Or more? So far, she felt better than she ever had in her life, but how much could her body take? Was she willing to test its limits?

She capped the bottle in her hand as she rose from the bed and began to dress. I need something I can grow into, she thought, but tight is still nice. She settled on a shimmering black nylon and lycra long sleeve shirt and its matching, short skirt; her cleavage was covered but her remarkable assets were outlined nicely. She knew that, if it came to a photo shoot, none of the clothes they had on hand at the studio would fit. In preparation, she threw a number of her new outfits into a duffel bag: some bathing suits, a couple of minidresses, and some lingerie. When she had herself organized, she thought again of John. What to do with him today when she was out? Maybe he’d like a little change of scenery.

XIII

John woke in Julia’s arms. He was being carried from his bed into the great room, towards the couches. As he gathered his senses, he looked around and then up into his wife’s beautiful face. “Whuuu....” was all he could muster in query. “Good morning, sunshine. How was your night? You look exhausted. Well, I have to leave for a little while, so we’re going to set you up in front of the TV” She lowered him gently onto their deep, plush sofa. She had removed some pillows and propped him into a seated position against the couch’s back. His legs came just barely to the edge of the cushion. She had dressed him, he noticed, in an old pair of her black cotton workout shorts; even these were loose about his waist.

She flipped on the power to the television. “I’ll leave you the remote, but I don’t want you watching any naughty movies, now,” she smiled playfully down at him, “I do have some pictures here you might like, in case you get lonely.” He looked to the endtable beside him, where several framed pictures of her were turned towards him. Obviously new photos, on account of her appearance in them, and obviously not professional. She likely took these herself using the timer on their automatic camera.

His eyes lingered over the pictures for a moment but were drawn to Julia’s hands as she placed several empty drinking glasses on the table, within his reach. “These are for you. In case you start thinking of me,” she kissed him on the forehead as she turned to leave, “you know what to do.” He sighed languidly as he watched her exit the house and thought to himself that he felt odd, he was only moderately aroused by the sight of her; usually her mere presence had him in a state near fits. It was almost as if he had just recently spent himself in orgasm....but it had been many hours ago, the middle of the night, when he had woken from his dream and nursed from her, right?

Well, it won’t last long, he thought. He gazed again at the photos at his bedside. She certainly had taken them and placed them here for the sole purpose of exciting him. A picture of her on her knees in a familiar bikini, chest and shoulders to the ground, glorious rear high in the air. A close-up cleavage shot, full frontal in a party dress, leaning forwards towards the camera—half of her face was obscured beyond the frame of the shot, but her wide, pearly grin beckoned the viewer. And last, a crystal-clear headshot of her enthralling, smiling face, aglow in its halo of bright blond tresses. He was almost hypnotized by her bright, blue eyes in the last photo, and lay staring at them for minutes on end. He knew it was crazy, but even her two-dimensional image seemed able to watch him.

What would she be thinking, what would she say, he wondered, if she were looking at me? He could imagine her voice, soft and lilting, comforting him. Oh baby, I love you so much. Her voice was music. Do you love me, too? Yes, he did, he did. He looked deeper into the sapphire wells of her eyes. Aren’t I beautiful? Aren’t I the most breathtaking woman you’ve ever seen? Oh god, here it comes again. His lust began to bubble and seethe once more as it dragged his hand down between his thighs. I am. I am the most beautiful woman in the world. And I get more beautiful every day. Her eyes seemed to dance and sparkle even in the picture, mocking his weakness. How much more can you take, little man? How much more of me can you handle? Because I’m getting bigger and bigger and bigger. Before he realized it, he had his shorts nearly down to his knees and a solid erection firmly in his grip. He was in the full throes of masturbating to a picture of his wife’s face, and had neither the will nor the desire to fully face what he had become, the depths to which he had sunk.

That’s right. Think about that. Look at me. I can get you hot with a shift of my hips, a breath, a glance, a thought. I can turn you on so much that it hurts. I can make you ache all over. His breath came in shallow pants and his eyes were wide and glassy as he continued to stare at her beautiful visage. I’m so much bigger than you. I dwarf you. You are so tiny to me. And I’m going to make you smaller. And smaller. He grabbed at a glass from the endtable in preparation. And smaller. And some day, a weak cry escaped his throat into the empty house, I’m going to eat you.

Instinctually he followed her commands and dumped his fluid into the drinking glass. This will make her happy, he thought. Gifts for the queen. He squeezed all he could from his flesh and fell exhausted to his pillows. He realized, as he lay there, that the boundaries separating his fantasies, his fears and his reality were beginning to blur. What was he hoping for? Escape? No. He couldn’t bear the thought of being without her and didn’t know if he could survive anyway. A miraculous return to normalcy? No. He was no longer above admitting to himself that he was now living a version of the deepest fantasy he had carried with him all his life. Further diminution at her hands, shrinking to the point of non-existence? The thought held a dark appeal, but filled him with dread. He felt sure, in this rare moment of lucidity, that he was on the brink of insanity, if not already deep in its clutches.

In an attempt to exorcise his somber thoughts, John struggled to follow the shows on television. Sights and sounds flew by him in a confused rush; his ability to process the information was just barely adequate for the task. And he found it disquieting that he was literally revolted by the images of women on the programs. Soap opera actresses. News anchors. Game show hostesses. Though certainly considered attractive women, he couldn’t bear to look at them. Was her hold over him that strong? Or was the virus expressing itself in another mindlessly nefarious manner? He struggled with the physical task of reaching for the remote and clicking off the power.

He was alone with his own thoughts for several minutes before his gaze fell again to the photos. Although it had been less than twenty minutes since his last orgasm, the images stirred him once again. His vision roamed over the full swells of her flesh, her firm buttocks, the deep crevice between her breasts. And he became erect again. But always he returned to the picture of her face. It called to him in his final moments of climax. And it did so again, and again, and again throughout the day. He drifted occasionally into merciful periods of sleep, but spent all his waking hours in rapt, lustful worship of her. And the glasses beside the bed began to fill.

By late morning, his hunger had begun to wake. By midafternoon, it had cramped his stomach into painful knots. By early evening, it was in an absolute howl. His only escape from its vicious grip were the brief moments he spent in climax time and time again. Where is she? By this point he had dropped to a state of irrational panic. She said she’d be back soon. It’s been too long. Maybe she’s left me. Maybe she’s not coming back.

Suddenly a phone rang. The first all day. Though he, of course, had no chance in answering it as the receiver lay yards across the room from him, his heart leapt. Maybe she was calling to say she was on her way back. To feed him. The answering machine picked up the call with a recorded message of his voice: the strong, clear bass of earlier days. He could barely recognize it, scarcely believe it was his. Rather than sadness, John felt only the faint pang of nostalgia.

The caller identified himself as the physician attending his care at the hospital. He sounded quite concerned. “Mrs. Blake, I just got your message at my office. Thank you for returning my call, but I have to advise you to rethink your decision and allow us to send a visiting nurse to see John. Perhaps there is nothing further we can do to heal him, but we need to monitor his viral load for reinfectivity and transmission. I’m sending a courier over with a blood kit which will allow you to take a sample yourself. You just need to send the sample back to us. But, please, I beg you, let us come and see him. You have our number. Goodbye.” The phone clicked dead.

Several orgasms later the doorbell rang. And then a series of knocks to the front door. The courier, but John had not the strength to call out to him, let alone rise and answer. What would be the point anyway? Silence filled the house as the knocking paused, and then the bell rang again. All was quiet after that until the faint sound of a car engine in the driveway sprang to life and then faded away. He was fraught with the physical pains of hunger, like a hot blade to his gut and a vise to his temples. One last ejaculation numbed him again into hunger-wracked slumber.

XIV

She was jubilant. Returning home late into the evening and tossing the package from the front step aside, she found her husband unconscious on the couch, drenched in his own sweat, a pair of shorts down at his knees. His breath rattled in shallow gasps, his skin was pale and clammy. She stood over him and surveyed the pitiful scene. A dull ache set upon her breasts as she could sense his hunger, almost see it writhing within his flesh. At any other time, she would likely be overcome with compassion and concern, but tonight was a time of celebration. She was drunk with power. Her meeting with her agent had exploded into an event beyond even her wildest imaginations, and her ego and sense of self-satisfied conceit had blossomed to match, if not exceed, the scope of her new body.

She was nearly taken aback with surprise as she noticed the drinking glasses beside the couch, which were each nearly full with John’s fluid. Her glances drifted over the photos she had left at his side as she pictured what his activities during the day must have entailed. Then her mind registered the implications. He made that himself, all in one day. For me. There was so much of it. She smiled as the possibilities formed in her head.

“You’ve been a busy little boy, haven’t you?” He was roused from his sleep by her voice. His eyes flittered and slowly focused on her shape standing before him. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision; gradually her image sharpened. Oh lord, she’s bigger than ever. “I’m so sorry I was gone so long, honey-baby,” her voice was high and indulgent, and had affected a touch of the slow southern drawl she had spent so long in speech training to drop, “You must be famished.” She was dressed in the same form-fitting outfit in which she left; the form it was designed to fit, however, had changed once again. She stood even taller now, and her heavy breasts strained greatly against the elastic fabric of her shirt. Her skirt gave new meaning to the term “micro-mini”, covering mere inches of the stately redwoods that were her legs.

“Well, my day went well,” she teased flirtatiously as she tousled her hair with both hands, “how was yours?” John fell into a deep blush, his gaze downward. “Did you miss me? It looks like you did.” She watched as his eyes drifted over to the endtable and looked in near disbelief at the fruit of his own labors. “You’ve been a very good boy, and mommy has a treat for you. But first I have to get comfortable.” She began to remove her heels, “It’s been such a long day. So many people. So many cameras. Well, I showed up at the studio and he—my agent—was just beside himself. I mean, really, he’s sees pretty girls all day, am I that special?”

Her thin, sarcastic smile passed unnoticed by her husband, who was rapt in attention as she had started to undo her skirt. “But he could hardly put two words together, he was so excited. I’ve never seen him look at me—or anyone—that way before. I don’t know if it was the dollar signs lighting up in his eyes or just that he was wondering what it’d be like in bed with me, but he was literally speechless for a long time.” John’s mouth dropped as she shimmied out of her skirt, pulling it down her long, tan legs to the floor. “And then I couldn’t shut him up. Talking a mile a minute about publicity and photo shoots and press conferences. Big time, he said, big money, if we play our cards right. He said I was the most beautiful woman the world had ever seen.” She flushed with pride and felt the heat of John’s gaze upon her full hips, tiny black panties stretched tightly across them.

“When I told him I was still growing, he nearly lost it,” she giggled, “and when I said I could grow anytime I wanted, I think he almost wet his pants.” She had placed her hands upon her hips and had slowly begun to roll them to and fro sensuously. “I don’t know if he believed me, so I showed him a little growth with a couple of your drops. He seemed to like that, a lot.” John’s eyes flew to meet hers in alarm. “Don’t worry, our secret is safe...I told him it was my ‘special formula’. He doesn’t know about you.” She drew his eyes back to her hips with a half-turn and a slight bend at the knees.

“But, before I knew it, he was on the phone to all these big shots, getting together a publicity team. Soon the place was full of photographers, publicists, magazine and TV executives, clothing designers. And they all wanted me. Me!” She turned a bit more, her back now to her husband, and slowly rocked her hips back and forth in a slow dance. Her marvelous, muscular rear and bare legs filled his vision. “So I showed them what I can do, how I can grow, and they loved it! They loved me! It seems, they said, that ‘I’ve stumbled into the secret fantasies of every living male.’ They said they couldn’t believe their eyes, but that the cameras never lie. So many pictures!”

She was obviously on a high induced by the attention of what sounded to be a number of very powerful people in the media. “I mean, I feel a little bad for my agent. I’m sure he’ll get a little bit of the action, but it all seemed to spiral out of his control. I guess he’s getting railroaded, but I don’t think I need him anymore, anyway. He’s small fry; I’ve got bigger people taking care of things.” At one time, his wife’s words would have concerned him. He’d be afraid she was setting herself up for a big disappointment. But now he greeted them with mute acceptance; he realized she could do whatever she wished, get whatever she wanted, with her new body. “I’m going to be on magazine covers. On television. Everywhere.” Though she was turned away from him, he could feel the triumph in her voice. “Right now I’ve got people making clothes for me, setting up publicity events, web sites. To get me what I want. To make the world mine.”

Julia knew she was a voluptuous masterpiece, a goddess in the making, from head to toe. Under her husband’s worshipful gaze, she felt more beautiful, more powerful than ever before. Not until this time was she fully aware of the scope of her newfound sexuality. And, suddenly, she was in the mood to do something about it, to test her sexual powers. “Tell me, are you ready for this, little boy?” She spun around to face her husband. Raising her arms above her head and swiveling her hips, she displayed her generous endowments to him like some wasp-waisted starlet. Her flesh undulated. He craned his neck backward to look up at her. “Do you like it? Do you like your wife’s big body?” She bent slightly at the knee and dropped down at the waist to look him in the face. He nodded and swallowed nervously. She closed her eyes and puckered her lips, blowing him a kiss.

Her eyes shot open again and looked deep into his fragile soul, testing his shattered will. “I’m going to make so much money. More than you ever made. More than you can even imagine.” She watched his eyes. “I’m going to be so huge.” His desire and shame were betrayed by his half-lidded, enthralled expression. She smiled and, with a toss of her hair, said “I’m going to be able to support you in every way.” He put up no attempt at resistance. She realized her dominion over him, how absolute it had become. She was almost in awe of her own power and how it had reduced him so far. She realized how her domination over him was becoming a sort of foreplay for them, how his shame heightened his passion. Some part of him, she knew, actually enjoyed the fear her huge body instilled in his shriveled one. As she grew larger, and he smaller, he fell further and further under her spell. His continuing submission to her was a strong aphrodisiac for them both. The bigger she became, the more he worshipped her, the more he lost himself in her. And she knew she could do it to all the others, she was sure they were just as weak.

Her sense of power was making her randy. She slithered out of her panties and climbed onto the couch, straddling her husband between her massive legs. Her mass brought complaints from the sofa’s springs and—as she lowered from her knees to her haunches—groans from her husband. She placed a good deal of weight on his thighs, and she relished the strained look on his face as he struggled to accept it. She was, however, aware of his hardness against her. “How does that feel, hmm, baby? Am I too heavy? Is your big wife too much for you?” He shut his eyes and winced as she settled more of herself onto him. “Shh...Shhh..I know, I know. She’s so big. So heavy. But this will make it all better.”

She reached down and grabbed hold of his swollen manhood, so hot between her fingers. Tilting her head back to afford him a view of the taut sinews of her beautiful throat, she tucked his stiff member into her. Eyes closed, she pulled his erection up, tightly surrounding him and grasping him in a firm hold. The awareness of him inside her brought deep pleasure, her flesh yearned for his seed. But she made no further move. And any attempt on his part to thrust upwards into her were futile; she was far too heavy too allow him any significant movement. She could sense his impotent attempts and merely smiled to herself.

She pulled one of the glasses full of his juices from the endtable. His eyes followed it and then went to her face. Wracked with the pain he was already withstanding, her mass atop his, he attempted to protest, “Nnn...nnnu...” She brought a single fingertip to his lips to quiet him. “Shhh...I would never hurt my little baby.” She pushed him back gently with her finger until he laid his head back in passive resignation and watched her. “Are you ready for the show?”

With that she brought the glass to her lips and took a great swallow, and then another, finishing nearly half its contents. She placed the remains back on the table and began to bask in the fascinating sensations overtaking her being. The heat raging throughout her body was severe; she could feel herself heating the air in the room with her expanding body. Muscles strengthened and filled with vitality as the skin above them shivered in rapture and stretched over her new girth. The pressing growth of her breasts and torso were showing their effect on her already overworked top, now like a second skin, shimmering and black, near to bursting. She could feel her toes approach, and pass, the edge of the couch cushion as her legs sought greater lengths. She had taken so much this time, and knew she was growing more than ever before. It was a feeling she never wanted to let end. Oh, to grow bigger and bigger, towards the ceiling, through the roof. Like a giantess she could look down upon the world, inciting fear and worship in the puny masses around her. Her smile grew as she felt her body rise and advance above his, the feeling of his frailty beneath her growing strength filled her with newfound ecstasy, stronger than orgasm. She nearly yelled with pleasure, “Oh baby, Mommy’s here. Mommy’s here for you.” The thought and feeling of him inside her tempted her to draw more and more from him, suck him up into her. She wanted nothing more than to grow without limits and blot out the sun, bathing the world in the light and warmth of her own awesome beauty and power. All in time, she thought.

She felt her growth slowing, her breath becoming more even, and returned her gaze to her husband, now so small underneath her. His head, lolled on the couch’s back, were below the undersides of her great breasts, still sheathed in quivering fabric. His eyes boggled up at her growing, burgeoning body. She leaned back slightly so she could watch his face as she began to slowly inhale a deep lungfull of air and flex the muscles of her arms, shoulders, chest and back. Her shirt had seen its last. Rips quickly ran all throughout it and soon it disintegrated into tatters around her. She pulled the remaining threads from her with a lustful glint in her eye and looked down over the swells of her grandiose bosom, still within a straining bra of black satin, at her trembling husband. She could feel him so hard within her, beginning to ooze his precious fluid already and urging her again slowly to greater heights. Her milky flesh overflowed the edges of her cups, and threatened to spill forward in their continued growth.

“Oh, baby. She’s so big for you. So much bigger than before.” She must be past seven feet tall, she thought. And her breasts were like entities unto themselves, rolling off her chest in vast expanses of soft flesh. “And she wants to share it all with you.” She brought her hands to her chest. “Mommy’s going to show you her big breasts now.” Undoing the front clasp of her taut brassiere, she pulled its fabric from her. In great, rolling waves they fell forward, firm and massive.

John’s choked, gurgled response delighted her. She knew his intense hunger and reveled in his homage to her lavish bosom, abundant with life. He focused solely on them as they swayed and swelled above his face. He knew they would reduce him further and further, but he craved their milk, their soft heft against his face. He moaned and worked his lips, pursing them as if to call her forward onto him. He didn’t dare move his head, however, approaching her unbidden. Like an infant, he was helpless below her.

She peered down at him with scorn. He was enslaved completely, a servant to her every whim, enfeebled by his need for her. And she wanted to make sure he knew it. “Yes, I’m going to breastfeed you. I’m going to put my nipple to your mouth and let you suck from me until you’re full. You can suckle like a baby, and shrink smaller and smaller underneath me.” Her voice, though unpleasant in tone, filled his brain and soothed him like a warm shroud. “But you’re going to have to beg me for it.”

Down she looked at him as he struggled to make sense of his situation through the fog of his hunger and the fire in his sex, still lodged deep within her. “Without me, you’d starve tonight, shriveled and wasted. You need my milk. Beg me, John, beg me.” Her breasts shifted languidly before his eyes as she dipped and raised her shoulders in slow rhythm. Firm flesh beckoned him with undulations. He struggled to form the words that would ease his suffering. “Pppuh..Puhhh..”

“That’s right, baby, beg me. Beg your mommy to feed you.” She wanted him in abject fealty now, bowing down in prayer at the shrine of her beauty. Like a great mother-goddess, full of life for the pious. “Puhhl...Please...please...” his words sputtered from his lips, his face strained in the agonies of hunger, physical struggle and emotional anguish. “Please what, baby? Beg me. Beg me.” Her hand came up behind his neck and cradled his head.

“Please. Please mommy. Please feed me.” His voice was weak and beaten, but brought her onto him. Leaning forward atop his body and drawing his head to her, she received him into her huge, smothering chest. Her nipple filled his mouth and released her plentiful milk into his eager throat. She pressed him deep into her flesh and ground her hips once into his, a reminder to him that she was his whole world, all that mattered.

Immediately he began to dwindle, and she could sense his heightened passion. She could tell he was enraptured with the feeling of her body slowly eclipsing his, dwarfing it, enveloping it. As his head became smaller and smaller at her breast, she began to talk softly to him. ‘You’re becoming so small. Can you feel it? Can you feel me so much bigger against you, surrounding you. Your head is so tiny, so small against your wife’s big breast.” Flesh encompassed him, her breasts about his head, her womanhood around his shaft. Her thundering heartbeat filled his ears, numbing his thoughts blissfully.

Her hips slid up and down him several times, but abruptly stopped and clenched him tightly as she sensed him near climax. “That’s right. Mommy is everywhere. She’s all over you.” He luxuriated in her huge body atop his. If only, he thought, if only he could lose himself absolutely, to just become an actual part of her. Skin with her skin, blood with her blood. He wanted more and more milk. He wanted to be smaller. He wanted to make her grow, so he could disappear completely into her. Then he could have real peace.

She slid over him once again. “Yes, baby. You’re inside me. Back inside mommy. Back where you belong.” She knew his thoughts. And she wanted him the same way. She wanted to draw him up into her completely, make him utterly and wholly hers. To finally absorb him in full, the ultimate triumph.

His orgasm hit just as her breast fell from his mouth, as he shrunk beyond its reach. Wave after wave of delight flooded over him as he jetted his strength deep into her. Her body sucked and pulled all it could from him as she towered higher and higher above him, growing full force once again. He could no longer see her face above her stupendous, expanding bosom and rather watched as her thighs lengthened and thickened alongside him. Her hips swelled, widened, and called to him to enter her further. He was no more than half her size now, and he felt safe and warm in her hands as she wrapped them about his head and drew him to her firm, taut belly as she rose to her knees. He fell to slumber against her as she caressed him so near her loins and thought of future days.

She looked at her body in amazement. She was now far beyond the proportions of a normal human woman, and the world could ignore her no further. She grinned as she thought of the scene that she would cause when she next left the house, knowing the reaction she’d get. Hers was a body that would bring grown men to tears. Let them all weep, she thought, all like little babies.