The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Eclipse

or

The Waning of John Blake

By greapos

XV

Suddenly I can walk again. I am back to my full size. But something is still very wrong. I am in our house, looking far across the room to my wife. She is in her wedding dress, a brilliant white, and has her arms outstretched, beckoning me to her for an embrace. “Where are you going?” her voice calls to me and echos dully in my ears. I am terrified of the look in her eyes. As if in slow motion, I turn from her and am quickly out the front door. All seems clear again in the cool nighttime air; my sanity has returned. I stop running at the end of the driveway and am struck by the silence. Nothing moves, the neighborhood is deserted, the eerie glow of the streetlamps cast twisted shadows of trees across the pavement. My long, slow breaths are the only thing I hear until the ominous sounds of creaking timbers spin me to face the house.

From my vantage point nearly a hundred yards away, the structure appears peaceful. Yet, once again, unearthly groans of splitting wood emanate from within, louder and more insistent this time. I take a single step backwards as shingles from the roof begin to buckle, slide and fall to the ground. The roof, at the highest point of its slope, begins to split, being pushed upwards from inside the house. Thick beams of dark wood emerge at irregular angles like fractured bones from a wound.

And then her hand appears. It is enormous. Long fingers push the rubble aside to make room for her other hand, which aids her in clearing a larger opening for a huge mass of golden hair. She snaps her neck up quickly, tossing debris in all directions as her gigantic head shakes back and forth to free itself of wood and plaster. She has a look of extreme satisfaction on her face, and seems to be lost in the ecstasy of her metamorphosis. Though the roof is nearly thirty feet from the ground, she must be crouched on her knees inside the house to allow for the size of her head. Her eyes open slowly as she draws the outside world into focus. She is as beautiful as I have ever seen her, even made more so by her incredible, expanded scale.

Still on her knees, she straightens her back, ripping through the roof with her shoulders. She smiles in amazement at her own size as she looks at the house around her, still containing her like the fragile shell of an egg. And then she sees me, across the driveway and yard, and fixes me with an unblinking glare. Her grin widens as my face must betray my wonder-struck fear. Slowly, as if for painful effect, she begins to stand, eyes never leaving mine. More of the house crumbles. She exalts in her own awesome power and its effect on me as she rises to her full height, tilts her chin upwards, and peers down at me haughtily. Unbelievably, her wedding dress is intact, an elegant satin gown now covering a body easily more than sixty feet tall. It is then that I notice that I am dressed in the same black tuxedo I wore to our wedding.

The sides of the house reaches barely to the level of her hips. She moves forward, towards me, a single pace, shattering the roof additionally and bringing her to the edge of the structure. Without a glance she pushes forward with her hips and hands, and the wall crashes to the ground, crumbling to dust and splinters. I take another step backwards as she moves into the yard, closing the distance between the two of us. She stands there, with her gown flowing about her, bathed in moonlight. Though without a veil, she is gloved in white in and wears the dress in the same style—off the shoulder and long of train—as the day we were married. She is truly a divine sight, towering above me like a holy colossus. I stand there, in rapt adoration, as she bathes in my terror and worshipful stare from her lofty vantage.

She begins to drop to her knees and lean slowly forward towards me. I step backwards, now onto the street, to allow her room. She is sprawled out across the yard, supporting her torso with her elbows,, and faces me. Her cleavage rises higher than my head from where her breasts meet and buckle the lawn and pavement. She smiles at me, displaying teeth huge and brilliant as she asks,“How is my little one? Does he like his giant wife? Or does he want her bigger?” She closes her eyes for a moment and moans luxuriously. I retreat a step further as she seems to be moving towards me, her breasts pushing trenches into the road as they slide forward. My god, she’s growing again! She reads my incredulous expression with bemusement and speaks, as if to a young child, “Oh baby, I don’t need you anymore. I can grow anytime I want now, John. As big as I want. I can be enormous. I can be a goddess.” I take several more steps backward as she continues to advance, overtaking me. I watch with amazement as her face grows larger, now directly above me, her hair now falling over her shoulders and surrounding me, blocking out the outside world. All that is left is her.

This time, her gown does not keep pace with her growth. It tears and falls into rags about her. With that she brings herself up from her elbows to her hands, her breasts rising from the street and falling from her dress. With a loving smile and a deep lungful of breath, she presents her massive breasts to me. They hover in the air above me, full and round and heavy as they slowly approach, looming. I am absolutely awestruck, my mouth agape, struck nearly dead by the sight. My stomach is in knots, too tight to vomit. What remaining strength I have in my legs gives way, and I crumple to my knees before her, and begin to weep. I realize I am once again naked.

“Shhh...” I hear her whisper seductively, “don’t be afraid. Relax. I’ll be so gentle.” Her voice and eyes are beatific. “Let me grow all over you.” As she continues to expand, I lose sight of her angelic face gazing down at me as her titanic bosom slowly fills my field of vision and lowers towards me. I fall backwards and begin to whimper as the warmth of her great nipple reaches me, followed by the pressing weight of her flesh. “Lie back, enjoy this,” she coos, “I’m all around you. Feel me, John, I’m everywhere.” I am surrounded by her softness, lost in it as it threatens to crush me—but does not. “I’m everything to you. Let yourself go, give up, give it all to me.

“I moan and push up against her, coming in a torrent against her breast, bucking feebly into her flesh. For a moment she pauses. I could smell her sense of triumph with my surrender. Slowly, she begins to grow again and I accept her full weight as she lowers herself down and grinds me into the pavement.

XVI

John stirred from his dream-filled slumber in the early afternoon as Julia entered the bedroom. Just returning from another media event, her hair and makeup were professionally done. Her lightly bronzed skin glowed where it was not covered by a tight white minidress scooped low down her chest. It was an outfit obviously tailor-made for her; one does not pick up clothes for a woman nearing eight feet tall at the local mall. “Hi there, baby,” she drawled as she approached him, “how do you like my new things?” She spun in display for him, and leaned over towards the bed, allowing him a fine view of her deep cleavage as he propped himself up on a pillow.

“V-very nice,” his voice had returned to a strained whisper, “you l-look beautiful.” She beamed with pride both at the compliment and her take on his current state of health: she had nursed him back from near death, and now he was able to speak again, sit up by himself. “Why, thank you honey, you are too kind.” Her accent had crept further back into her speech, and lent it a seductive lilt. She stood and arched her back, smiling at the obvious reaction she drew from him as he moaned and squirmed. She had grown again this morning at the video shoot, and her finely muscled frame had blossomed further. Her impressive, hourglass figure was tightly packed with silky flesh at the same time both strong and soft.

“I’ve got all sorts of pretty new outfits,” she sat on the bed besides him and started tracing circles on his thin chest with her fingertip. “Some of them they made sooo big,” she looked askance at his eyes, which were roaming over her long legs, “but I’ll grow into them.” She dropped her gaze from his face to his chest, his legs. My, he looked so small. True, everyone looked small to her now, but her husband was absolutely tiny. He was less than four feet tall, and so thin—not much broader than one of her firm thighs. She caressed the smooth skin of his face. How long had it been since he’s been shaved, she wondered, he’s got no beard to speak of.

“Would you like to see the video I shot with my publicity team today?” She did not wait for his reply, and moved to open the television cabinet past the end of the bed. “It’s gone out to all the major networks and syndicated TV tabloid shows, along with all the photos to the newspapers and magazines. I’ll be famous by tomorrow, they say. My websites are already on fire. " She slipped a tape into the player. “This starts off with some guy interviewing me. Watch.”

She returned to the bed and sat alongside her husband as the screen sprang to life. Though his eyes watched the forming images, he could not help but be acutely aware of her large breasts behind his head and up against his shoulder as she put her arm around him.

Onscreen, she was seated, demurely with legs crossed, in a dark room. Across from her was a man with his back turned to the camera, sitting in shadows. She was wearing the same white minidress she had on now—though it did not hug her quite as tightly—and was bathed in flattering light. And she looked enormous. Seated on a high stool, she dwarfed a small table and pitcher of water set next to her for effect. The camera shot from a low angle, accentuating her size. Her innocent expression and quiet demeanor stood in sharp contrast to her revealing clothes and impossibly voluptuous figure. “Thank you, Ms. Blake, for agreeing to this interview. Now, tell me what you had said earlier, why you contacted me and wanted to tell your story.”

The camera drew in slightly to her as she smiled with false modestly. “Well, I didn’t think I could keep my secret much longer. I’ve been getting a lot of attention because, well, I’ve been getting bigger.”

“What do you mean, exactly, Ms. Blake? Explain it for our audience.” The interviewer’s voice was disembodied, now offscreen.

“You see, I’ve been growing. Taller and taller. Very quickly. Just a few weeks ago I was the same size as everyone else, and now look at me.” She smiled brilliantly as she straightened her back. John was struck again, seeing his wife on the television, as to just how huge her breasts were.

“Can we see the picture of Ms. Blake before?” asked the interviewer. An older photo of Julia appeared on screen, from her modeling days. She looked beautiful, but so much smaller. “Wow. Quite a change. But how can a woman of your age—you are twenty-eight, correct?—just begin to grow again? And so fast?”

“I’m not really sure, it just started to happen one day. I started shooting up, and out.” The camera began a slow pan down from her face as she slowly threw back her shoulders, drifting in close-up over her elegant neck, lingering on her chest before falling further and further down her torso to her endless, muscular legs, white pumps dangling from her toes. Though the piece was produced like a journalistic report, its filming bordered on the lascivious. “Before I knew it, I didn’t fit into any of my old clothes, into my car, my bed. I was a little afraid at first, but now I really like it. I’m becoming a giant.” The camera had returned to a tight shot of her face, catching her delighted, crooked grin.

“If you don’t mind me asking, H-how tall are you now, exactly?” Though obviously a plant, the unseen interviewer actually seemed to be growing a bit anxious, as the crack in his voice betrayed.

She met his query with a wry smile. “Last time I checked? Oh, about seven feet, seven and a half inches tall. And no signs of stopping.”

Though entranced with the video, John noticed his wife’s big hand pull down at his shorts and encircle his erection in its grip, wrapping it easily and completely in her fingers.

“Seven-seven and a half? That means...”

“Yes, that I’m the world’s tallest living woman,” she concluded his sentence teasingly, “And, if you’re lucky, today I’ll outgrow that guy from North Korea and be the tallest living human.”

“What do you mean, today? You mean here, now?”

“Why, sure, honey. Why wait? I can grow anytime I want. Don’t you want to see it? Don’t you want to watch?”

To quell any disbelief, Julia stood with much drama and looked down on her interrogator as the camera panned back. He gazed up at her from his seat and rose slowly from the shadows into her light, back still to the camera. He looked like a child, the top of his head barely reaching her jutting bosom. He and the camera followed her long, sweeping strides and swaying hips as they took her to another set where pieces of furniture had been obviously placed to give a sense of perspective. While he was no doubt at their scale, she towered over it all.

“So, let me get this straight, Ms. Blake.” He sounded incredulous. “You can grow at any time, on command?” He stood in profile, at her side.

“Why, yes,” she said with condescension, “let me show you.” Upon the wall were height markers. She stood against it, and topped Seven foot seven. She tugged at him, almost excitedly, to stand beside her: five eleven. With that the camera pulled down to their feet, his much smaller beside her.

Julia’s voice, next to John in bed, interrupted to add, “Now, this is where I drank some fluid off camera. But we don’t tell the audience that, of course.” He looked to his wife’s face; she was beaming and giddy, intent on the television screen. Her long fingers continued to stroke him affectionately along his length, causing his stomach to clench in pleasure.

Slowly, the feet in the white high heels begin to expand. She slipped one of them from her as the other began to split. The camera crept up her body, making sure to keep the interviewer in the frame. She was obviously growing, looking down at the man aside her. Her body swelled to fill her dress, as it dragged up her thigh and stretched across her breasts. She struck several flirtatious poses for the camera as the shot pulled back and allowed for a full view of her body as it completed its ascent. She faced the camera straight on and, bending to look her audience in the eye, asked “How was that?” Her cleavage beckoned wantonly, “Do you want more?”

She stood to her full height, eyes not leaving the camera as it came to a close up of her face and the marker which read her new height. Seven feet ten inches. She was silent in her triumph, and smiled with a sweep of her hair as the interviewer announced, “That does it! You are now the world’s tallest person, man or woman.” He was clearly in a slight state of shock. “That was incredible! Simply amazing! How, if I may ask, does that make you feel?” The interviewer had disappeared once again off camera.

She answered thoughtfully, “Well, it makes me feel different things. Important. Beautiful. Powerful. Ever since I started growing, I’ve felt wonderful, really, better than I have in my whole life. Stronger. More confident. I love the way people look at me now. Women want to be me. Men wish they could have me.”

“But, aren’t men a little...intimidated by you? You’re so big. And so beautiful. It must be a little disconcerti—.”

“They should be intimidated,” she added forcefully, “I’m the most beautiful thing they’ll ever lay eyes on, and I’m bigger and stronger than them all. They all feel nervous around me, but I know they like it.” Her eyes were sparkling as her haughty smile widened.

“W-what exactly do you mean?”

“Oh, we don’t have to play games anymore. Let’s just admit it. Every man’s secret fantasy is a woman like me. With a body like this. A big, big girl. One who can do what she wants with him. One who can pick him up like a child and hold him and coddle him and keep him warm and safe. And the thought that I can get even bigger is even more exciting. Don’t you think so?”

The interviewer swallowed audibly. “With what you’re telling me, you seem to be building yourself into some sort of, well, sexually-charged mother-goddess. Your body seems to be developing into the ultimate object of both desire and nurturing, motherly love. Is that the role you want to play? Is that how you want to be seen?”

“I think the two are really one in the same, when you look deep down into most men. And isn’t that, when you really think about it, what every American male wants? A mother-goddess? To worship and adore.” She was absolutely glowing with pride and self-satisfaction, and was becoming more radiant by the moment. “Don’t you think that our society’s obsession with breasts is just a thinly disguised desire for a mother’s embrace? An urge to be back at mommy’s bosom? A hunger for her warmth and her soft flesh?” She leaned ever so slightly towards the camera and pressed her breasts together with her elbows. “I think so. I think all every man secretly wants is to be back nursing at his mother’s breast.” The camera was pulling in closer to her, framing her chest and face.

She was looking directly down into the lens now, addressing all those who would soon see her in her glory. “And I can be there for you all. You don’t have to have any secrets from me. I have everything you want. You can look at me and think what it would be like.” She approached the camera now, slowly, her face gradually disappearing off the top border of the screen. “What it would be like if I were holding you, so small, so little, so close to me.” Her nipples were apparent through her dress as her breasts filled the frame completely. And still she drew nearer. “Let me do it. Come to me.” The entirety of the view was filled with the image of one of her huge, heavy breasts, sheathed partially in tight white fabric and topped by a swollen nipple.

“That’s right, America,” she cooed the camera lens met her breast like an infant, “come to mommy.” Lovingly she rubbed her nipple across the lens, up and down, until she pressed her breast fully against it, bringing the screen to black.

It was then that he came, gasping in surprise, into her hand. She had massaged him to orgasm as he watched her seduce a nation. His fluid sprayed into puddles on his bedclothes; she urged more and more from him with her firm grip until he was spent.

XVII

She clapped her hands several times in the bed next to him and giggled like a schoolgirl. “Ta da! Don’t you just love it? What do you think the world will think about me tomorrow?” She clicked off the power with the remote, stopping the tape, and turned to face him on the bed. “I can’t wait to be famous. And then, baby, then the money comes rolling in.” A part of her wanted him to be excited with her, but she saw the resignation in his face. And the desire the tape had stirred in him, now spilled out and gathered in small milky pools on the sheets. She was content with that, also. She knew, observing him, how others would react. They would be unable to resist looking at her, thinking about her. And that is exactly what she wanted.

“Tell me how you’re feeling, baby, tell me what that made you think about,” she said with motherly concern, “I want to know.” She looked deep into his evasive eyes, searching for his soul. She wanted to draw the shame from him, bring him further into her fold. Leaning over towards him, she tried futilely to catch his gaze with hers, but was satisfied as his eyes settled on her enormous bosom, swelling from her dress.

“It w-was fine. And I f-feel fine, I g-guess,” his words belied his hypnotized stare, “maybe a l-little tired.” She inched closer to him and pushed her chest nearer with a deep breath. She knew his thoughts. He was a beaten man, and had resigned himself to her domination. He had little, if any, concerns about the outside world. She knew he wanted nothing more than to live the rest of his days in her warm comfort, enveloped in her flesh like a baby in the womb. That he had no will left was plain to see, his dependence on her was total. And she was more than willing to take him into her, eclipsing him into insignificance as she grew and grew

“Oh, John. I know you don’t feel fine. You feel weak, ashamed. You can’t believe you’ve sunk so low, so helpless. But at the same time, you want to sink lower, to cling to your wife for dear life. But that’s all right, baby. I know what you want. Cling to me. I can do it, I can do it all. You can become just a tiny little part of me.”

A tear crept down his cheek as he was beginning to weep gently. He had no secrets from her anymore. “That’s what you want, baby, isn’t it? To be so little? Hmm?” She put her finger under his chin, tilting it upward to look him in the face, “Hmm? So little?”

“Y-yes,” he sputtered.

“So you can be a part of me.” She brought his face down so he once again was staring into her bosom, and slipped her other fingers partially into her cleavage. “So you can fit right in here, where it’s so warm and soft.” Both her swollen breasts and her throbbing loins ached. Her womb yearned. “Mmm... Wouldn’t that be nice? Surrounded by me, my heartbeat all around you. Do you want that?”

“Y-yes, yes.” Her nipples were swollen and seemed to call him silently. Her breasts surged, engorged with milk. He wanted to press himself into her, but could not. He must wait for her to take him, to bring his face to her great teat.

She pulled her hand from between her breasts and brought it to the bed linens, where his fresh juices lay. Scooping and gathering them into her hand, she shuddered inwardly as her palm began to tingle. Before she began to absorb it, she spread the fluid, John’s seed, onto her husband’s face. Smearing it across his cheeks, over his closed eyelids, into his lips, it mingled with the slow stream of his tears. The taste of salt crept into his mouth.

“I can do it for you. I can get so big, so big that you can lose yourself in me, so that you never need to find your way out.” She took his head in her two hands and brought him closer to her chest, until her bosom completely filled his field of view. She looked at the top of his small head, dwarfed by her enormous breasts, and, in a cool tone, asked, “Do you want me to do that? Do you want me to get that big? So you can fit right in there?”

“Y-yes, oh yes.” He continued to weep, “So b-big. So big.”

“Yes, honey, so big. And you can be so small.” She inched him closer to her. “I can make you so little. So little that you’ll slide right into me. Like nothing.” She drew his face, dripping with his own semen, closer and slipped it into her cleavage. She was surprised at how easily it was enveloped by her firm, rolling flesh, which began to drink in his juices. “You can be like nothing to me.”

He drew breaths from her with great, wracking sobs, savoring her skin against his and her motherly aroma alongside the briny scent of his fluid. All his sensations, his entire being, was centered on the feel of her breasts around his head. She pressed and squeezed them into him, pulling him in ever deeper as she began to grow around him.. Forcefully, rhythmically, she continued to enfold him, until his head was utterly lost in her cleavage. He nestled into her as she pulled down at her dress, the neckline lower, the straps off her arms, allowing him fuller access.

Soon her swelling breasts were fully exposed, her dress gathered about her waist, as she now kneaded them with nearly crushing force into him. “There we are, how does that feel?” He had no chance of responding, his head buried between her massive breasts. His thoughts were of nothing but her body, all around him, growing ever bigger. He imagined it was all of him, not just his head, trapped within her bosom. The beat of her heart echoed in his ears, while his own felt faint in comparison, though kept with hers in perfect time. In exact synchrony. Hers growing ever stronger, his seeming to dwindle with each pulse. It was as if they were gradually becoming part of a single body: hers. He felt delirious with pleasure but newly terrified at the same time. She was slowly trying to absorb him.

“Oh, baby, so soon. So soon you can be in me. All of you. And you can be so happy.” He whimpered helplessly as she began to drag her breasts across his face, out from her cleavage and towards her large nipple. “You’re going to be smaller.” She brought his mouth to her and watched as he began to suck, “So much smaller.” Her milk flowed freely into him, and they each felt his body respond, beginning to shrink. “Smaller. Smaller.” He took her in swallow after swallow, absolutely heedless of his sense of self, relishing his diminution at her breast. “Smaller.” Her words were hypnotic, mesmerizing him alongside her heart, which still beat in strong, perfect rhythm over his own. He enjoyed this tender, rapturous lullaby until his feeding concluded and he was taken by sleep.

Eclipse XVIII

Something was wrong. The sickness had grown suddenly worse. He was consumed by a fever that wracked his body and pulled him mercilessly from sleep countless times throughout the night. The lust in his belly had grown anew, and frightened him as it twisted and snarled like a vicious beast. Dreams, desire and reality commingled and fused into one living nightmare that swam about his bed and invaded his every thought. His feeble body was near its breaking point, shaking uncontrollably in fits and spasms as his skin crawled. Where was she? He needed her near him for comfort, to take away the pain. He called out in agony repeatedly in vain attempts to bring her to his side, but the hours passed in the darkness and the torture of his crippled soul continued.

He was roused near dawn from a state of unconsciousness by the heavy weight of her warm, silky flesh against his face. Still in darkness, he saw nothing of her but the round, smooth shape of her huge breast suspended above him. Her face was lost in shadows, but the mass of her giant teat rubbed against his cheek, onto his lips, and into his mouth. Though he was still lost in a world hovering between sanity and delirium, he knew her breast meant comfort, solace and release. He took her nipple into his mouth and began to draw milk from her.

All was silent; she did not speak to him in her usual way, but pushed her flesh more firmly into his face without a word. The familiar maternal aura surrounding her had a different vibration, stronger and more powerful—almost unearthly, inhuman. It consumed him and dominated him, seeping into his every pore. He was not sure whether or not he was dreaming, only that her milk served to relieve his suffering.

Her strong hand cupped his head to draw him closer, raising him from his pillow. He was struck with a sense of vertigo, a dizziness not unlike the sensation of plummeting through the air. But he was not falling; he was changing. His body was shrinking at an alarming rate, faster than ever before. Further and further he dwindled as her nipple filled more and more of his mouth, her breast growing before him. His mind reeled in confusion and instinctual fear even as the pain and fever he felt previously were replaced by rapturous pleasure. Shrinking now brought wonderful physical joy to him, his flesh tingled and throbbed. What was different, what had changed?

He felt her arm pass below his legs, under his bottom. He could feel himself growing smaller in her hands, her palm and fingers now nearly as wide as his hips. Gently she raised him off the bed, lifting him like a baby to her breast. Holding him silently, she gathered his body to her bare bosom and sat back. She cradled her husband in her arms like an infant, watching him nurse. While his mouth worked her nipple, his hips pressed into her other breast. He was now no bigger than a small baby, and luxuriated in the warmth of her motherly embrace. Her hands, her arms, her breasts were on all sides of him. Though tempered by a sliver of fear, he had never known peace this complete before in his life.

While John’s emotions raged, Julia remained unnaturally stoic. She regarded her tiny husband in her arms with detachment. He was hers, totally—mind, body and soul. She would care for him as he grew weaker and weaker, using him to build herself further towards divinity.

For now she knew that was her destiny. When she woke hours earlier, she was in a transcendental state. Never before had the world seemed so clear, its mysteries plainly apparent. She could feel herself changing inwardly, evolving to a new state of being. The future, her potential, formed itself tangibly in her mind. She could be so much more than a celebrity. She could be a goddess. That is when she had gone to him, lying in his bed, writhing in sweat-drenched agony.

Holding him to her, she smiled faintly as he rutted against her breast with his hips and orgasmed. Though he fell to sleep, sated, he grew smaller still in her arms. Or, rather, she had begun to grow again around him as his fluid passed into her breast and filled her with power. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to ascend. It was only a matter of time.

Eclipse XIX

“Mrs. Blake, I have the results of the blood sample you sent us this morning.” The doctor’s voice on the answering machine awoke John. “I need you to call me right away. The results are troubling and certainly very curious.” He was once again on the couch, dwarfed now by the surrounding pillows and blankets and wrapped in swaddling clothes. “The virus has mutated again and become reinfective. We need to get back under quarantine. The viral load is up exponentially, this thing is out of control and raging through his bloodstream.” John shuddered and felt the chill of fever and impending doom creep over him. He looked about the room as the message continued. He was living now in a world of giants, as he was no bigger than a toddler. The room, the furniture, everything was enormous in scale. And Julia was nowhere to be seen.

“Another thing. Though I’m sure it’s some type of lab error, the blood typing listed on this sample doesn’t match John’s. I’m going to have the lab run that again. Nonetheless, we need to get him back into the hospital under quarantine,” the doctor’s voice concluded, “call me when you get this message.”

That explained his recent change in health: the virus had surged again within him. It was shrinking him more quickly and poising itself for transmission to other hosts. Though he held little hope for his own recovery, he was comforted in small part by the fact that the virus would have little chance of spreading to others. He knew that Julia would never let him leave the house, let alone bring him back to the medical center.

The cramps in his hands were paining him; as he inspected his fingers, he drew back in shock. They had become shorter, more fleshy, and had begun to lose their nails. The hair had fallen from his knuckles, his hands, indeed his entire arm! And was that an early webbing beginning to form between his digits? My god, he thought, what’s happening to me? The mindless evil of this virus was changing his body in newly devious ways.

It was then that he noticed the reading material she had left by his side, obviously for his perusal. Several advance copies of major fashion, entertainment, and men’s interest magazines lay in a small pile, her image gracing the cover of each and every one. She beckoned the reader with a seductive pose and come-hither smile, drawing them in to open the pages and discover more about this phenomenon, this burgeoning giantess of unearthly beauty. She was about to ride the wave of a total media blitz.

Inside the magazines were articles, interviews and pictorials, all crafted in rapt worship of her. Similar in tone and content to the video interview, she came across as the unwitting recipient of the fabulous ability to grow seemingly at will. Glossy layouts, all clothed, highlighted her immense size, generous curves and flawless beauty in photos both glamorous and artistic. The media, it seemed, had already crowned her the goddess-queen of all living sex symbols, foreseeing her success as an actress, model, whatever she wished. And they seemed all too willing to feed the public more and more. She realized, the articles read, that her growth was shaping her into what many would describe as the ideal object of lust. Her breasts were described, by various reporters, as “breathtaking”, “monumental” and “legendary”. She also knew the attraction to her body sprang deep from the male psyche, from the hidden desire to be back in the warmth of a mother’s bosom. She was being portrayed as a highly sexual, maternal force with unknown potential, a role she embraced and wished to fortify.

What worried John most, leafing through the magazines, was not her new fame. Rather, in all the articles, she hints at revealing the secret behind her growth at some time soon. Surely she wouldn’t expose him to the public, would she?

While he was growing more apprehensive by the moment, he also found himself staring at her photos in the magazines. She looked so perfect, so strong and voluptuous. She dwarfed the male models with whom she was paired, to demonstrate scale, in a few of the images. She straddled their small bodies, or held them to her breasts. They clung to her feet and gazed longingly up at her.

He began to feel lightheaded, as if his brain was not receiving enough blood, and felt a growing pressure against his belly as he became more aroused. Something was not right, something felt different, throughout his loins. He was growing more dizzy. He unwrapped himself from his blankets, pulling them off his chest and from his hips, and reeled at the sight of himself. His member sprang skywards, released from confinement. It had grown huge, or rather he had shrunk around it. It had reached to his sternum while pressed against him, but now pointed upward to stare him in the face. What was becoming of him? His erection seemed to be an entity unto itself, less and less like his own body. It was like a huge, throbbing beast, stiff and menacing. He fainted dead away at the sight.

Eclipse XX

She interrupted him in the midst of a session of masturbation when she entered the house again, hours later. His mouth gaped as he concentrated on the cover of a fashion magazine adorned with her image, holding himself full in both hands and working his outsized member with all his strength. The cool look on her face brought his flagellations to a slow stroke. She was dressed in a tight white midriff sweater and tiny white denim shorts. Now at more than eight and a half feet tall, she towered over the surrounding furnishings. A detached air of indifference surrounded her as she approached him slowly with long, easy strides. The smooth golden skin of her endless legs rippled over the powerful muscles of her thighs and calves. Her flat stomach and narrow, wasp-like waist were taut and dark with tan.

He made no effort to remove his grasp from his giant erection, and continued to slide both his hands up and down its length as he saw her come nearer, seeming to grow taller and taller with every step. He watched her heavy breasts bounce and quiver, filling the textured cotton of her sweater with their plushness. Her broad shoulders supported a swanlike neck, its tendons outlined elegantly against her throat. His eyes goggled at her body, while his mind and soul roiled in fear, lust and hunger.

Her glossy lips, painted and moist, parted as she lowered her weight to sit aside him. The springs and frame of the sofa groaned in complaint. Behind her heavy lids, eyes that glowed a silvery blue were shimmering wells, liquid windows to an alien place. Her countenance was cold and austere; she appeared to be in a nearly trancelike state, aware of another world as well as our own.

Her pearly teeth sparkled from behind her lips as a languid smile spread across her face. She ran one huge hand over him, petting and stroking him as one would a small animal. Using a single finger to push his hands away from his member, her hand settled across his midsection, more than covering its entire width. She passed her palm several times over his stiff flesh, pressing its length into his belly and chest. Feeble moans and whimpers came from his throat as deep sensations, almost electric in their intensity, shook through him.

She leaned over to allow him to see her beautiful face beyond her gigantic chest. She wanted him to be able to look into the eyes of his giant wife, his enormous mother, his mighty queen as she dwarfed him. Her cold, unforgiving gaze seduced him with an unholy ease, flowing and undulating like quicksilver in a molten dance. He was hypnotized quickly, drawn into the deep pools of her eyes. She knew his thoughts as if they were her own. He was terrified of her, but in utter dependence and absolute worship.

Almost in test of her power over him, she began to press down upon his body. His entire trunk was nearly covered by the expanse of her hand. Eyes still entrapped by hers, he felt his huge member press painfully into his gut, his back deep into the cushion below. Slowly, she applied more pressure, watching his face with interest as his lids widened in fear. More and more she pressed. She could feel the quickening of his tiny heartbeat, deep below his fragile ribs. He was struggling to breathe now, tears brimming around his eyes. She cocked her head in curiosity as she wondered how much it would take to crush him; with no effort at all she had him nearly asphyxiated. She was fascinated with the look of abject terror on his face. She pushed down a bit further, letting him taste the pain she could bring. Her once dominant husband, now entirely at her mercy.

Accepting the submission in his eyes and their silent pleas for release, she withdrew her hand. He gasped and sputtered for breath as his color returned to normal, though his gaze was still locked under her control. As he fell deeper into the infinite depths of her eyes, he felt more and more a part of her, as if she was drawing him inside to her darkest core and erasing him bit by bit.

Her two hands slipped beneath him, lifting his body easily and placing him across her lap. He was not much taller than the thickness of her two thighs, and was supported fully. His gaze fell from hers as she drew back to pull off her sweater. Unbound and unhampered by a bra, her bountiful breasts heaved and flowed forwards, hanging above him majestically.

He heard her voice in his head as much as in his ears. It had taken on new quality, deep and resonant while at the same time clear and musical. “Your body is so tiny.” As if in emphasis, almost in comparison, she lowered her breasts towards him. Each was now more massive than his entire body. What was happening? John blinked several times in disbelief, but he could actually see her breasts pulsating slowly, calling him to her as their nipples swelled. Again, her voice in his head. “Can you see? Can you see how small you are next to me?” What had she become? She was superhuman, almost supernatural.

With one hand she raised him slightly from her lap; with the other she lovingly lifted a monumental breast and placed it upon him. He struggled to accept its heavy weight as she steadied him, bringing him further into her. Despite the crushing, smothering force of her bosom, like a blind, nursing pup his mouth vainly sought out her nipple. He heard her thoughts aloud “You are so close to death here, John, so close to being crushed. But you don’t fight for escape, you don’t scream for help. You look for my milk. You look for my love. Why? When I could squash you in an instant, Why?”

She drew him in nearer, raising him higher, now holding him like an infant and pressing his head deep into her softness. “Look at yourself, John. You are a parasite. Like an insect, a leech, sucking and sucking on me for dear life. You feed off of me for milk, for love, for everything. You would die without me. You are nothing without me.” She moved his face closer to her nipple and drew him back so he could look at its giant, engorged tip. “Take my milk now. Latch onto me and feed. I will fill you.”

Shifting her breast towards him, she slid her nipple between his waiting lips. It nearly filled his mouth now, and dumped great flows of milk down his throat as he suckled. Whatever anxiety he had was soon covered by the warm blanket of her motherly comfort. He forgot his fear and allowed himself to be soothed by her soft flesh, her warm milk and maternal voice. He nestled into her. “Good baby. Goooood baby. Drink it all down.” He soon felt himself shrinking at her bosom, in her hands, as the milk worked its way into him. “Doesn’t that feel nice? Doesn’t it feel so good to drift away? Getting smaller and smaller up against my breast.” He could feel his body dwindling in comparison to the heft of her flesh pressed to him, sense himself occupying less and less of her embrace.

Her milk tasted like the sweetest, most precious nectar, warm and creamy and alive. As if to demonstrate to him how quickly he was diminishing, she shifted him in her arms, now using a single hand to hold him to her breast. The other hand caressed him, stroked the hair on his tiny head. “Can you feel that, baby? I’m holding you with one hand now,” she squeezed and pushed her flesh into him, massaging him into her and rubbing wide expanses of her skin across his. And still he shrank, though slower now that his hunger was dying. “You can fit in one of my hands. One of my hands.” She gently removed him from her nipple to look at him. With him lying on his back, she cradled him fully with her fingers, palm and wrist of a single hand. The outsized erection that rose to his chest was stiff and quivering.

His little eyes were open and gazed pleadingly, in mute adoration, at her huge face above him. She was surrounded by a visible aura of brilliant splendor, like a radiant deity. His naked body squirmed in her hand as she beamed down a motherly, beatific smile. It lit his world like sunshine. “My, you are such a little, little man.” He could feel her rise from the couch and begin to walk across the floor, carrying him with no effort. She cooed soft, sweet nothings to him along the way, “My darling little husband. My teeny baby.”

“And mommy loves you. She loves her little baby,” she had stopped in her travels at the end of the giant bed, which was a dizzying drop below him, “oh yes she does.” Grasping him tenderly with one hand, she brought him up close to her gorgeous face, which to him was nearly the size of a billboard. Her fingers wrapped almost totally around his chest; his legs dangled. He was looking straight ahead at her huge, luscious lips, mesmerized by their titillating gleam, their voluptuous dance. “She wants to cover him with kisses,” her giant pearly teeth bedazzled him with a toothsome grin as she brought him closer, “she wants to see how sweet he tastes.” Her hot, flowery breath wafted around him. Nearer. She pursed her lips and he watched her form enormous, luxurious kisses before him. She blew them towards him. Closer. Gleaming, shimmering, moist flesh filled his vision and undulated sensuously. She displayed her opulent lips to him, wanted him to absorb their immense scale, to acknowledge the brute, wanton power of her mouth. Closer. She whispered to him. “Come here, baby.”

His face was showered by a series of light, plush kisses. Big, ethereal brushes of gossamer. Her pillowy lips began to cover him in creamy lipstick as her attentions became more eager. Soon he was painted, coated in smears of red. The moist, profuse caresses of her lips enveloped his mouth, his chin, his cheeks. They blanketed his eyes. She sucked gently on his face, taking delight in running her wet, velvet lips over him indulgently. His head was held by their firm grasp. She passed the rough tip of her tongue playfully across his face. Her soft, maternal sighs echoed around him as she pressed her lips into him, beginning to envelop him more and more.

There, with his head surrounded by her lips, he could hear her thoughts once again. Mmmm...so nice. So nice and warm in there. She sucked more firmly on him, licking his face further. My kisses are so big. My mouth is so huge. She parted her lips slightly, allowing him to look into her tremendous orifice, shining and wet. Her white teeth sparkled ominously. She drew in a great breath. You taste so good. Her exhale washed over him. So sweet, my little husband. She kissed him again, wetly, grabbing his head with her lips. My little John.

Her lush mouth opened wider and took him in. His face slid smoothly through her lips as she sucked him into her. His entire head. To his neck he was enveloped by her hot, wet flesh. Her tongue lolled and rolled over his face in the darkness, coating him with her warm saliva. She growled with pleasure, filling his ears with thunder, as her teeth came to rest on either side of his neck. Feel that, baby? She pressed gently down on his throat. Feel what I can do? She sucked on his head, massaging it roughly with her tongue. She opened her mouth wider, pushing her tongue below him, across his chest. It rubbed up against his engorged shaft, electrifying his senses further. He grappled feebly with her plush lips, her muscular tongue as they toyed with him. Even as he struggled, he pushed his member against her tongue’s coarse wetness, seeking release. Though filled with unbridled fear, his lust drove him onwards, pushing him to drive further into her.

Feeling that, she exalted in her own power. You want it? You want to feel more? Her tongue and lips danced over him as she slowly drew him from her mouth, his head dripping and moist. She brought him up so he could look deeply into her wide, sparkling eyes. Her grin was triumphant. You want to feel me all around you? Her lips did not move; no sound passed her throat. She made him hear her thoughts. His vacuous eyes rolled in delirium while hers regarded him with unblinking, demonic fascination. Her gaze was steely and unbending, forcing her mind into his as it encompassed him. To feel yourself slide deeper and deeper in. My lips around you. To feel me swallow you. Whole.

Still holding him near her face, she crawled onto the bed, sliding forwards on all fours. Her smile was mischievous, fiendish. She placed him gently on the mattress, his erection risen like thick pole, a banner to her rule and dominion. As she drew back, he was awestruck by her monumental form. Titanic breasts, gargantuan knees, mammoth thighs. Round, bare, tremendous hips. She had removed her shorts and tore her panties away. She was a colossus, bathing in his reverence and fear.

I want you inside me. She looked down on him from afar. I want all of you inside me. She brought her hands down, encasing his member with one and pressing down on his chest with the other. In a panic of self-preservation, he tried to pull himself away. He was unable to get free. She had him pinned to the bed beneath.

Get ready for me, John. She rose and moved her hips toward him. Get ready for all of me. Her face became obscured by her towering body. I’m going to rape you.

Eclipse XXI

She had him. She had him in every way. And now she was going to show him just what she could do to him. The full extent of her domination, taking him totally. He had shrunk to the size of a plaything to her, and was an abject slave gagged and bound by his own lust. She was a titanic force against which he had no defense. Her authority bulged in her chest as she lifted him off the mattress and positioned him. She sat on her muscled haunches, spread slightly, as she angled his member towards her. His body hung limply in surrender from its base, his eyes swam in the bewildered disbelief of a deep horror. Though huge and out-of-scale on his body, his manhood was small and humble between her legs. Pitiful.

“Look at me, John.” She supported his head with two fingers as it lolled back and gazed up at her with its small eyes. “Look at your wife above you, so huge. So incredibly huge.” She loved the look on his face, the terror in his eyes. Her feelings of power burgeoned and swelled by the instant. “You can’t believe it, can you? Your tiny mind can’t comprehend her. Can’t understand how gigantic she is.” He seemed to diminish, shrink in significance before her eyes as she spoke to him. “And you’re afraid, baby. Deathly afraid of her. Afraid of what she can do to you.” She drew him in closer to her loins and tilted his head forward on its neck. “Look at me.” He was confronted by her firm lower belly and, below that, her awaiting womanhood. She dripped in anticipation. The imposing muscles of her abdomen and thighs flexed and rippled powerfully.

“I could break you, John. I could eat you. I could kill you in so many ways,” her grip tightened as he writhed in impotent fear, “but instead, I’m going to fuck you. Hard. I’m going to fuck your puny little body to a ragged pulp. I’m going to rape you, baby, rape you of everything you ever were, make you mine.” She was on a high, and soaring higher. “Now, baby, come to mommy.”

With that she slid him in, cupping his body in her hands and driving it forward forcefully into the flesh of her stomach. His member sank easily to its base, filling so little of her. Yet they were both immediately consumed with ecstasy. Suddenly they were closer than ever to their ultimate end. Joined together like this, the world fell into place. Like part of a single body, intimately tied in unfathomable joy. He thought of nothing but his love for her. She was transcendent.

And then he felt it. She began to tighten around him. Her muscular walls contracted about his dwarfed manhood until they hugged him firmly. He rubbed his face against her smooth belly and luxuriated in her warmth, gathering her aroma. She grasped his hips in her hand and drew them back, sliding him moistly through her velvet channel. His tip remained inside. And then he felt it again. Her vagina clasped and slowly pulled him back in again, massaging him along the way sensuously. Back to his base he was drawn. And still she tugged on him, as if she wanted more of him, as if she wanted him deeper. At that point, he would have liked nothing more. The feel of her wetness around him, her hands covering his body, his face against her skin. Never before had he been so completely surrounded by her warm comfort. And something inside her called for him. Wanted him within her. He was at the gateway, so close to heaven.

She pulled his shaft outwards again, holding his body in her hands. As her womanhood sought him once more, yanking him forwards, her hands helped to push him in. Though he was lost in pleasure, he was aware that her affections were becoming slowly more physical. In and out he slid, over and over. She began to talk softly to him, cooing with condescension. “How do you like this, little one? Am I good? Am I good in bed, still?” Holding him to her with one hand, she rose on her knees and dropped onto her other elbow. He was now horizontal, still pressed to her belly. She gradually began to lower her hips to the mattress. “Isn’t this nice? Isn’t this so good?” Her thrusting continued.

“Do you remember the last time we did this in this room? So long ago? You were much bigger then, but you liked it the same way. You always liked me on top, so you could watch me. So you could look at my body. So you could tell me how beautiful I was. So I could rub my big breasts in your face. Oh, how you liked that. Do you remember? Hmm? I do. I remember you lying back, letting me make you feel good. Letting me take care of you. Looking at me. Feeling me slide all over you, on top of you. Well, John, look at me now. Feel me now.”

Her hips bore massively down on him. Still in her grasp, he had been brought the mattress. She held him there, under her, as she slid up and down his shaft. Her body blotted out all light. He was in darkness as she pumped and ground her way through him. More and more vigorous her motions became, as she pressed him heavily into the cushion below. Voluptuous softness was all around him, but threatened to crush him with each passing second.

“Is this good, little one? Is this the way you always wanted it? Hmm? Yes. I know it is. Can you feel me all around you? I’m so big. So tight. So wet.” He moaned and sighed each time she thrust down on him. He was beginning to lose himself, his grasp of his body. All his sensations were gradually centering themselves around his erection. It was becoming the core of his being. His vision faded, the outside world collapsed to a dull hum in his ears. With each stroke, he felt like more and more of his entire self was being drawn into her, sliding through her warm, wet embrace. Up and into her tunnel. It was blissful beyond belief, he was quivering with delight.

Does baby feel good? Her silent words washed over him, from her close, hot flesh into his mind. Does mommy feel nice all around him? Come deeper, little man. Come farther into me. Come back into mommy. She read his thoughts. They were so simple, so plain. He wanted it, too. He was giving himself to her. Oh, so soon, baby, so soon we can be together forever. I’ll have you for good. She just needed a little more from him. And he was so close now.

With one last stroke, she ceased humping his tiny body into the mattress. She lay on top of him silently, his shaft driven to its base into her, her mass all around him. He was aware of nothing beyond his penis. For the moment his consciousness had become totally, utterly entrenched in his erection. She sensed him in there. The rest of his body was nothing but a husk. Her husband was now entirely just an organ. And he was encased, entombed by her firm, wet, velvety vagina. Buried within her. So close, he was, to climax, that she could feel his fluid churning, his every fiber stiffening.

She wanted to finish him this way. Slowly, consciously, she worked the muscles along her inner wall. She pressed on him. She massaged him. More and more firmly she labored, bringing herself in powerful waves over him. Rhythmically she began at his base and drew her flesh up his shaft. She felt him begin to shudder and quake. Redoubling her efforts, she squeezed him, harder and harder. Until he burst.

He gushed and belched streams of hot fluid into her. He felt as if he had exploded, opening up completely and pouring his very essence into her. His innards, his blood, his soul. Take it, he thought, take it all.

That’s right, baby. Give it to me. Help me grow. For you, for us. Suddenly, she was electrified. Unlike ever before, his juices shot directly to her core and gripped her in orgasmic rapture. The heavens shook as she raised herself on her arms and tossed her head back in a scream. His consciousness was slowly ebbing back into his body, his vision returning to allow him to observe this earth-moving spectacle.

His head was just barely clear of the point where her waist rose from the mattress. Lying on his back below her, he craned his neck back to catch a glimpse of her further ascension. It was like a celestial event. Energy crackled and hummed over her skin like fine bolts of white lightning. Her hair swept upwards in an ethereal breeze. Her jaw dropped a moment before a great, hedonic smile spread across her face. Her teeth gleamed. Her eyes shot open and shone like supernovas.

And she began to grow. Up and up above him she swelled. While his view of her was mostly obscured by her trunk, he watched her breasts. The expanding, heaving mountains of soft flesh pushed to greater and greater limits. He began to feel smaller than ever before. Her hips around him were widening, her legs lengthening. Her shoulders became more powerful and the mane of golden hair about them thicker and more radiant.

Her first breath was a gasp. And then a laugh. A short, incredulous titter, followed by a moment of silence. And then it began again. A long, rolling stream of drunken celebration. Laughter to fill the room, to fill the skies. She was ecstatic. She sat back on her knees, drawing herself from his spent member, and laughed, her eyes heavenward. Hands on her thighs, she shook with rejoice.

Once more, he was terrified. What had she become this time? Her evolution had continued, the virus had brought her again to greater heights. Less and less human, more and more divine. She was now more than ten feet tall, while he, spread-eagle on bed before her, was now measured in inches.

Her roaring mirth, rising at times to great shrieks, began to sound like that of some mad god. What threads were left of her sanity had snapped. He cracked under his fright and began to shake.

Suddenly she stopped. She smelled his fear, recalling his presence, and shot her gaze down to him. Her smile was gone. The irises of her eyes were lustrous, iridescent pools of swimming platinum, their whites pure and luminous. She cocked her head in curiosity, examining his puny form. He twitched and squirmed in spasm. Paralyzed by fear. He felt like a tiny, feeble mouse under the eye of a huge, deadly beast of prey. Unpredictable and capable of instantaneous, brutal violence.

Her lips curled to a smirk. Her eyes glimmered. A carnivorous grin sprang to life. Wide and insane. And then the laughing resumed. Low chuckles at first, but quickly building to a full, wicked crescendo. She was possessed, depraved and malign.

She took her palms from her knees, and reached forwards to him. Her hands were enormous as they approached. She paused, for a moment, in her laughter to speak to him. “Come here, little one,” her tone was unpleasant, “we have so much more to do.”