"Hi, Rich, it's me." Her voice is far too perky for...wait...already nine in the morning? "Are you still in bed, sleepyhead?"
"mmm...yeah..." he mumbles. As he tries to clear his mind from sleep, his shame returns, shooting icicles down his spine. He can't believe how late he was up last night, thinking of her. He never knew he could...produce...that many times in one day.
"Well, I'm sorry to wake you...I just wanted to talk to you, after yesterday...I hope I didn't..."
Jeez, this is uncomfortable. "hey...no...don't worry..." he replies, trying to sound conscious. He wishes he could put two words together, knowing that if he really wanted to end things with her he should act angry. "...forget it..."
"No, well...Hey, I took the day off school, I thought I'd take you to your appointment-"
"OhMyGod!" He jumps from the bed, phone in hand, suddenly frazzled, "My appointment!"
"You forgot, didn't you?"
"Uh, yeah," he says distractedly, hurrying over to his closet, "kinda."
"Well, we have an hour before you need to be there, we have plenty of time to get into the city..."
"Uh...Traci," he stammers, dropping out of his makeshift pajamas, "I think I'm going to grab a cab..." At this point he is too short to drive. He is proud of himself, however, for this little victory of self control, declining her offer of a ride. "Listen, I gotta fly...throw on some clothes," he still stinks from last night, "grab a shower..."
"Uh, okay...at least let me call the cab for you."
"Fine, yeah," he agrees, heading for the bathroom.
"And, I'll see you when you get home...I'm going to bake some cookies for you today."
"Uh, okay, sure," he replies hurriedly. He can always call her later, to cancel, he thinks. "Bye."
Hanging up the phone, shifting into overdrive, he quickly cleans himself up, gets dressed and jumps into the cab waiting for him in the driveway. Amazingly, he makes it to the city, to the local teaching hospital, in time.
Today he is scheduled for another MRI, and there’s a group of doctors who’ve wanted him to be in on a video teleconference they were going to conduct today on his case. Though he is getting used to the constant stream of medical attention, no one had any definite diagnosis for him yet. He just seems to be shrinking.
Done early that afternoon, he is a bit surprised to see her car in his driveway on his return. Distracted all day, he had forgotten to call her, to call things off for the afternoon. She must have let herself in, he assumes, as he braces himself for their meeting. He is a bit apprehensive after his shameful performance yesterday. Stay cool, he thinks to himself, stay polite but get rid of her quick. Part of him, though, he realizes (the horny, blockheaded part) is definitely eager to see her again.
"Hello?" he calls into the house as he enters, "Traci?" His voice is weaker than it once was, and does not carry well. He is greeted by the pleasant aroma of baking, filling the air, but not her voice. He heads to the kitchen to find her, crouched in front of the oven, pulling out a tray of cookies. God! Those legs! he thinks, admiring her calves, her thighs in her tight, powder blue Capri pants.
"Oh, hi!" she beams with enthusiasm, noticing him in the doorway, "You're just in time!" Standing to greet him, she holds the tray in front of her, smiling at him brilliantly. Her hair is done up like he's never seen before, in loose curls. Under an apron she is wearing a starched white, button-down sleeveless blouse and looks every bit the happy homemaker. He is a bit speechless, with the feeling that he's just walked in on a scene from some fifties television show. "Do you want some cookies?" she asks, her voice bubbly.
"Uh, sure," he answers, moving to a stool at the countertop.
"No, no," she titters, "let's get you to the couch. You'll be more comfortable, after your long day."
Putting a plate of cookies on a tray alongside a glass of milk, she follows him into the living room, perching herself heavily to his right on the sofa. Her pearly white smile, he notes, seems innocent enough. "So," she asks, offering him the plate of cookies, "tell me, how was your day?"
Though not hungry, he accepts a chocolate chip cookie, warm from the oven, and takes a bite. "Mmm...delicious..." he says, swallowing.
"They might be a little...burnt..." she offers apologetically.
"Oh," he says, noticing a hint of...smokiness, "they're fine."
"Here, have some milk," she says, handing him a large glass from the tray. Being so small, he needs two hands to raise it to his mouth. A bit dribbles down his chin. "Oh, my, look at you," she reprimands, clucking her tongue, "let's clean that up." With the corner of her apron in hand, she leans in and dabs at the corner of his mouth, looking down her nose at him.
He watches her quizzically as she unties her apron from the back. "The apron," he comments, "that's a new look for you, huh?"
"Mmm," she agrees, matter-of-factly, as she turns to him once again and puts her hands, demurely, in her lap, her lips tight.
What look, exactly, is she going for? he thinks. She looks almost...matronly. Like she's practicing to be somebody's wife...or mother. Somebody's very hot wife or mother. He swallows rather noisily in the silence, trying not to notice the rise and fall of her heavy chest under her crisp white blouse.
"Would you like another cookie, sweetie?" she asks, with wide eyes and cocked head, eyebrows raised.
"Uh, sure," he replies, watching her reach over to take a cookie from the plate. Leaning in again towards him, she brings the cookie to his lips. A bit startled, he draws back for an instant but, looking up to meet her eyes, opens his mouth to take a bite.
"Mmm...there we go..." she purrs, peering down at him. He feels like a small child, suddenly, under a mother's watchful eye. Though not an altogether unpleasant sensation, he is a bit uncomfortable.
He knows he shouldn't let her do this, especially if he's to have a talk with her. Tell her that they shouldn't see so much of each other, that yesterday was a mistake. But, he thinks, looking at her pretty face, let me finish this cookie first.
"Oh, shoot," she says, brushing crumbs from her chest, "what happened here?" Sitting back a bit, she unbuttons the top few buttons of her blouse and pulls it away from her chest. "Did some of that just go down my cleavage?"
They both, now, look between her breasts, into the dark chasm between the round swells of her breasts. With pursed lips, she brushes at them attentively, pretending not to notice his gaping jaw.
Gathering himself quickly, he averts his eyes and shakes off the image, returning his gaze to hers as she leans in once more to him, another cookie in hand. Okay, he realizes, she's doing it again. She's trying to seduce me, or - at least - fuck with my head. "Uh, Traci," he says, trying to find his tongue despite the temptation of her full cleavage, calling him to look its way, "about...yesterday..." His mouth is dry, "...at my house..."
"Your house? You mean here?" She says, glancing over at the empty easy chair to her right.
"Oh...uh...yeah..." he stammers, as she draws in closer. God, look at those tits, he marvels, as he tries not to watch them swell with each breath. Big to anyone of normal size, of course, they are huge to him. Catching himself, he continues, "I don't think...I mean, what I'm trying to say is..."
Crossing her right leg over her left, shifting her hips in towards him, she gazes down at him sympathetically. Look at the poor thing, she thinks, he's so nervous. He can hardly speak. Here, let me do this. She brushes loose curls of hair away from each shoulder and readjusts her blouse, affording him a better view. Her eyes twinkle with merriment watching him struggle to keep his eyes off her chest. Somehow he manages to continue.
"..is that, uh..." Does he really want to do this? Discourage her? So young, yes, but so ripe, so full. A woman, right? And me, I'm...I'm just a guy. But no, he should resist, he knows. "...is that w-we..."
"Shhh...shhh..." she whispers, bringing a finger to his lips as her right shoulder rolled towards him, "don't worry...I know...I know all about it."
Stifled, his eyes widen as they look up into hers, watching her raise herself up slightly and throw her right leg over him. Settling her weight down on him, straddling his shrunken thighs, she brings her free hand up, now, to the next button of her blouse. With a finger still quieting his lips, she continues cooing softly to him. "I know, I know, sweetie...it's so hard..."
Trying to concentrate on something other than her burgeoning chest, he looks at her lips, painted moist and glossy. They move lushly over her words as she speaks "It's so hard, being so small." Having noticed him looking at her lips, she parts them seductively. He squirms, looks away.
"Oh," she exclaims, attracting his eyes again as she notices something on the sofa table behind him, "is this your mother?" Leaning into him to reach over his shoulder, she all but plasters his face into the couch with her chest. She feels him tense below her and smiles to herself, pausing for a moment longer than necessary to take hold of a small picture frame. Mortified, he is overwhelmed by her bosom, and succeeds in only mumbling a response.
"Ooooh! Sorry!" she apologizes with a giggle, backing off him mercifully, "are you okay?"
"Uh, yeah..." he replies, his face flushed red, turning his attention to the frame in her hands, "um, yeah, that's her..."
"She's so pretty," she remarks girlishly, looking at the photo, "how old is she there?"
"Oh, I dunno...soon after college...twenty-three?"
"She had a nice figure then, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Too bad she's, like, not around. Now that you need her. Now that you're not well." Though her comments sound innocent, she is testing the water, gauging his reaction. "Everybody wants their mommy when they don't feel good, hmm?"
"Well, it's not like..." he says defensively, trailing off. Swallowing dryly, he can't help but notice how close she's held the small picture of his mother to her own full chest, can't ignore the deep breaths she's using to inflate herself against her blouse, waiting for him to continue. "It's not like I'm helpless or anything." He can't help but think, however, as he sits practically pinned beneath her, how helpless he feels right then. "I can still, y'know, tie my own shoes."
She beams down at him, smiling generously at his attempt at a joke. "Yes, that's right!" she says with encouragement, as if speaking to a child, "and such cute little shoes!"
He nods his head, acknowledging with a wan smile the pair of kids' sneakers she had bought for him days ago; at the time he could never have imagined ever actually fitting into them. He struggles to keep the mood light. "And my hair...I can still brush my own hair..."
"Yes," she agrees, pushing a stray lock off his temple as she puts down the picture frame, "very nice."
"I can, uh," he continues, "still dress myself...I was thinking about a pair of Garanimals. What do you think?"
"Oh yes" she giggles, bouncing on his lap, "Very sexy!" She fiddles with the buttons of his shirt, adjusting his collar. "And Osh Kosh B'Gosh makes some hip stuff," she teases, "how about a nice pair of overalls?"
He chuckles. Though a bit uncomfortable with her belittling humor, he is finding this all rather arousing. She is a relentless flirt. "Yeah, overalls would be nice," he agrees, "very roomy."
She looks down at him mischievously, still fussing with his shirt. "They'd make changing diapers easier..."
"I, uh, don't..." he stumbles, unsure of what to say. It wouldn't come to that, would it? "I think, uh, I think I'll...be okay..."
"Well, if you ever need my help..." her eyes sparkle.
"Yeah," he stammers, suddenly embarrassed, "you wish...!"
"Oh, come on, Rich," she coos, smoothing his collar, "don't you think about it sometimes? Wouldn't it be nice, just for once, to let someone take care of you? I mean, like, really take care of you." Her voice is low, now, her tone more serious. His nervous smile fades as he watches her smooth her blouse over her right breast. He can picture its full, round shape, heavy and firm, under the starched white fabric. "To just sit back, relax, and let them do everything for you. As if, y'know...you were, like, a baby again." She presses her breast forward, towards him, stretching her blouse tautly over its weight. She smiles as he stares, as if struck mute. He's so small, she thinks, my boob must look so big to him.
"A little baby," she continues, "an infant again. And you had, like, somebody to take care of you. To clothe you, to change you, to feed you." She pushes her breast even closer towards him, undoes another button, and watches his jaw actually drop. He looks mesmerized. "Don't you imagine it sometimes? Wouldn't that be nice?" She feels him start to tremble beneath her. Unrelenting, she continues, "It'd be nice to have mommy again, wouldn't it?"
Looking down at his little face, so intent on her clothed breast, she is acutely aware of the building warmth in her bosom. Emboldened by his acquiescence, she continues unbuttoning her blouse, teasing him with her words. "Mommy again, taking care of you, making you feel all better?"
He stares, still speechless, into her deep cleavage, gasps at the sight of bright white satin as she reveals her bra. Pulled tautly over each big, firm breast, it stretches tighter with each breath.
She knows he is trying to resist, that his soft whines and whimpers are signs of struggle. Still she continues. "Mommy to cuddle you, to keep you warm," she says, slipping her sleeveless blouse, now fully unbuttoned, off her right shoulder. "Would you like that?" she asks, slipping her left hand behind his head, "would you like me to be your mommy?"
She hears his breath catch.
"Have you thought about that, honey? Hmmm? Have you thought about me being your mommy? Yes...yes...I know you have."
Still he is speechless. She is a little amazed herself, incredulous at what she is doing to him. She muses in thought for a moment. Though she's always known the advantages she's had over other girls, the weakness guys had for her nice body, her big set of tits, she'd never actually realized just what she could really do. What these big, round breasts she'd been growing, slowly but surely over the years, could accomplish. Look at this guy, Rich, the boy she dreamed about as a kid, shaking like a leaf for her. Do these make you think I'm your mommy, little boy? Hmm? Do they make you want to be with me? She smiles to herself as she drops the blouse from her other shoulder. Is there something else they make you want to do? What is it? Something you remember mommy doing with you? The blouse falls onto the couch's cushions. Well, Rich, that's what they're there for, she says silently, lowering the bra strap off her right shoulder, might as well use them.
"Okay, baby," she purrs, peeling her bra down over her enormous right breast and pulling his head in to her, "come to mama."
Despite his internal struggle, his instincts widen his mouth to take her nipple. He closes his eyes. Feeling her young, smooth, soft flesh press against his face in such abundance, his will collapses completely and he begins to mouth at her breast. He should stop, he should stop, he knows, but he is too aroused, too consumed to think clearly. Instead he listens to, obeys her sweet coos of encouragement.
"Ooooooh...that's right, that's good...now shhhh...shhh...relax. Mommy's here." She guides his mouth, keeping it at her nipple, and urges him to suck. As he settles in to her, her nipple in his mouth, she tightens her hold on him and - exhaling - lets down her milk.
As the first of her creamy flows passes his lips, runs onto and over his tongue, he starts in surprise. She sees his eyes widen, feels him stiffen and try to draw away from her. "Shhh..." she whispers, only to hug him more tightly, "it's okay...don't worry, baby. Relax."
Oh god, he asks in confusion, what's happening? He feels her push her nipple further through his lips, the milk still flowing from her. His mind is reeling as he thinks, No, not this. Anything but this. Despite himself, powerless to stop, he latches onto her like a suckling and closes his eyes again.
How is this happening? He thinks in bewilderment. She's....she's breastfeeding. Somehow she's breastfeeding me. Oh god. How is she giving milk? She's...so young, a girl, seventeen.
Nonetheless, her milk flows from her nipple, filling his mouth, dropping down his throat as he swallows. He fights with himself, knowing he should pull away, that this is beyond unnatural. But with every draw he takes from her firm breast, his struggle weakens. As much as he realizes how entirely wrong this is, it's as if suddenly he's living his deepest, most hidden fantasies. Suckling, nursing on huge, swollen breasts. Her breasts, wrapped in her arms. Forgetting his fight, he gives himself up to the luxury of her soft skin and whispered cooing, and allows her to hold him, so close, to her motherly bosom.
Reaching behind her back with one hand, she unclasps her bra and slides it from her shoulders. Look at him, she thinks, both arms again holding him to the swells of her now bare chest, he's nursing. Just like he's fantasized about. All his dreams coming true. What he thinks about, she mused with a smile, when he's jerking off. Suckling. Breastfeeding. From me. From my breasts.
Though she watches him with some detached amusement, part of her still finding this somewhat funny, she can't help but swell a bit with an almost maternal pride as she gazes down at him. Look at what I can do. Look at what a woman can provide.
Feeling him moan and squirm below her, she can tell how acutely aroused he is becoming, and lowers one hand down to his stomach. His loins clench as her fingers find their way underneath his shirt to caress his belly with a light touch. She meets no resistance in first unsnapping his pants and then lowering his zipper, and knows, as soon as she has him pulled out of his briefs and hard in her delicate hand, that he wouldn't fight her now.
His constant, low murmurs as he suckles rise to a groan as she strokes him once, with a slow but firm hand, and pulls him farther from his shorts. As she continues fondling him, caressing and pulling on him rhythmically, his sucking becomes more strained, sloppy. He struggles against coming too quickly.
"This is nice, huh?" she asks, smiling, petting his head tenderly, "but won't it be so good, won't it be even nicer, when you get smaller?" He moans into her flesh pathetically, obviously imagining it, a step closer to climax. Without mercy, she continues, "When you're smaller, so small, so I can pick you up. Hold you in my arms, just like a real baby. You'll like that, huh? Won't that be nice?" That's what you've always dreamed about, isn't it?
Milk runs through his lips, down his chin. She knows she has him pushed to the edge, senses his fight is almost lost. She is ready, almost, to allow him release. He swallows, breathing "oh, god" as she draws herself from his mouth and back, slowly, away from him. Still stroking his hard member, she sits back, now, on her hips. Letting him look up at her, letting him appreciate, finally, the full size of her bare breasts, she tries to imagine: What must he be seeing, what is his view like? What must he be thinking? What does this look like to him? With me, this hot, curvy young girl, with these huge breasts, sitting on top of him. This perfect body. His dick in my hand. He must be in fucking heaven. God, I'm so thin, my breasts are so big, I must look enormous. But...but...he's probably imagining me even bigger. Imagining himself even smaller, looking up at me, from way down there. Oh god, here...what if I do this?
Deciding to embellish the show, she arches her back, draws one slow breath and watches his eyes goggle as she slowly raises herself higher over him, pretending to grow before his eyes. His neck cranes, his gaze trying to follow hers, but all is soon eclipsed by the swells of her chest, the undersides of her full, round breasts. He disappears below her. With his hardness still in the grip of her hand's firm, unrelenting flagellations, teetering towards climax, she is leaned over him. Smiling, feeling so powerful, toying with this guy, she pauses for a moment and asks "ready?"
With that, she slowly lowers her breast onto his upturned face, squashing his nose, his mouth, his eyes into the underside of her soft, heavy swell.
That’s it. She knows from his sudden, twitching spasm that it’s over. He’s come. With a smile she feels his warm stickiness dribble over her hand as she milks him through his climax, purring encouragement. Dragging her breast down across his face, she sits back again and looks on as his orgasm wanes.
She watches his face, his closed eyes with interest as the look of peaceful detachment fades from him, to be replaced by one of worry, of embarrassment, a furrowed brow. Slowly his eyelids flutter open, his gaze meeting hers for a moment before dropping away.
"Oh, Jesus, Traci," he mutters, clearly confused, uncomfortable, "wh-what just happened?"
"Oh, my, Rich," she replies, giddy, "do you really need me to explain?"
He is obviously in shock, unnerved by her lithe, young body with its outrageously big, bare breasts, sitting on his lap in her tight hot pants. Though, at this point, her breasts are obviously overly big for her frame, she seems all-too comfortable, at home in her body. She smiles proudly down at him.
He can not find his words, ashamed, and rather just closes his eyes in silence and feels her warm, yielding flesh press against his cheek, envelop his face, as she hugs him once again to her chest.
Over the next several days - alongside his confusion over Traci - Rich's sense of disquiet grows deeper. He is beginning to shrink faster. Inches, it seems, are dropping off him by the day. With the amplification of the spell, after a week he is less than three feet tall.
This, it ends up, is just too much for our hero's already fragile psyche. He feels himself becoming unglued. Unable to contain his dismay, he does what he promised himself he'd never do. He breaks down one day in front of Traci, weeping pitifully.
"I...I can't believe...I don't understand...why?" he sputters, "I'm getting s-so s-small. E-everyday...smaller and smaller and s-smaller..." He is ashamed at letting her see him like this, so pathetic.
"Ohhhh," she purrs as she approaches to where he sits, legs dangling off the couch, "you poor thing."
"I-I mean...I used to be so...so...normal..." he sobs, casting his gaze down from her firm thighs. She stands, in a tight pair of jeans, right in front of him. To emphasize her size.
"And now, look at you," she says, drawing closer. The air is thick with her perfume; he can feel the warmth of her body.
"I...I k-know..." He is shaking, still crying. "What if...what if...?"
What if what? She thinks, What if this doesn't stop? She wants to see his face, and kneels down in front of him, fighting back a smile as she tries to catch his gaze. "It's okay," she says encouragingly, "It's alright." With her on her knees, so close, they are face-to-face.
"I'm just so p-pathetic," he blubbers, "I feel...I feel so..." Still his eyes are cast downward.
"That's okay, Rich," she says, unzipping the collar of her sweater to reveal several inches of dark cleavage, "you can tell me."
"Oh, god," he moans in despair, turning his face from her, closing his eyes. Despite himself, he is already aroused, grown hard in his drawstring pants.
"Tell me what you're feeling," she says as she lowers his waistband down over his thighs, gathering it at his knees. His naked member stands stiffly between his legs. "Are you afraid of getting smaller?"
He is breathing heavy, fast, opening his eyes once again to watch her throw her hair over one thin shoulder, intent on his hard organ as she bends lower. "I...I.."
"Shhh...shh...Let it all out..." she says, finally, as she drops her head into his lap and swallows him into her mouth.
Humiliated, he throws his head back, leans backwards onto his hands and continues to sob. Her mouth is wet all around him, his shaft hard as it slides between her glossy lips. His will utterly defeated, he resigns himself to watching her head bob in his lap, giving himself up to her mouth. Imagining her head growing larger and larger still, he comes easily, and collapses in exhaustion.
With Halloween approaching this weekend, he expects the return of his parents soon. He had reluctantly contacted them about the worsening of his condition, causing them to change the course of their cruise and head back north as quickly as possible. Though it will be good to have their support, he struggles with mixed emotions over their return; once they get back, Traci obviously can not continue her "visits". Since their last episode he has all but given up trying to resist her seductions, has given in to her smothering affections, has given her all she wanted - his acquiescent worship of her womanly charms.
As he has dwindled smaller and smaller, she had taken upon herself nearly all his needs for daily living. Putting him to bed. Changing his clothes. Bathing him in the tub. And, after his resistance to her first attempt at spoonfeeding him from a jar of baby food, she fed him daily from her breast.
While all the while caring for him like a young mother with her infant, she continues to flaunt her rapidly developing body to him. Despite his weakened state, his withered self respect, he spends most of their time together enthralled, in a state of obvious arousal.
Of this she takes frequent, full advantage with eager hand, girlish mouth, firm, enveloping breasts. He finds himself climaxing time and time again in the comforts of her ever-swelling body, each time falling deeper and deeper into her fold.
While he imagines it a trick of his new perspective, his reduced size, her body is actually undergoing astonishing changes. Since using more of the powder from the spell on them both through her cookies, she has begun to grow more quickly. Nearing six feet tall, her body is lithe, shapely and strong. She walks with elegant, stately confidence amongst her bewildered classmates, sways her womanly hips languidly before her leering teachers. She chuckles at her mother, who is beside herself having watched her daughter swell through two bra sizes in a week.
As if thinking aloud one night as she tucks him into bed, she muses over the upcoming weekend's Halloween dance. Her eyes dance as she asks, as if to no one in particular, "What, what, WHAT should I wear?" She pulls the covers up to his chin. "The dance is tomorrow and I still don't have a costume!"
Only minutes ago, she had him jerking himself off, his head squashed between her breasts, licking her flesh submissively.
He looks up at her silently, still mortified at himself.
"Hmmm..." she wonders, "how about a cheerleader? Or...a bunny? Or a kitty? Mmrroww!" She claws the air between them playfully, suddenly pretending to pounce at him. His eyes go wide, his face white. She giggles, drawing back. She forgets, sometimes, how she must look to him, with him being so small.
Straightening her shoulders, she gathers her hair up into a ponytail, calming him quickly with a display of her shapely profile, back in her tight sweater. She leans over, kissing him once, goodnight, on the forehead. "Well, whatever. Hey, with the dance and all, I won't be able to see you tomorrow, but maybe I'll drop by afterwards...okay?"
He agrees, smiling weakly up at her before she rises, turns off his bedstand light, and turns to leave.
The next day, Halloween, goes on uneventfully. The house darkened, he is able to ignore the handful of trick-or-treaters who nonetheless ring at his door. Though half-expecting Traci to drop by, he is exhausted and gets himself to bed early, only to be awakened just before midnight by a presence in his room. His vision focuses slowly as his head clears itself of sleep to find her, sitting on her knees, near the end of his mattress. She must have let herself in.
Traci is still in costume: a tight, one-piece black bathing suit is painted on her outrageous curves like a second skin. Her long, muscular legs are bare, tucked beneath her firm, generous bottom. A huge black wig, arranged in a familiar beehive, sits atop her head. Her makeup is pale, dramatically emphasizing her painted lips and eyes lined heavily in black. She sits, silent, smiling down at him in bemusement.
"Elvira, huh?" he offers, commenting on her costume.
"Who?" she answers, straightening her suit over her large breasts before returning her hands to her lap. She's obviously been drinking.
"Elvira...y'know...the chick with the...hair." He gulps, noticing her creamy cleavage, shadowed in the moonlight. "M-must be before your time." He is nervous. Not only a little drunk, she has an untamed air, an aura of unpredictability about her tonight.
"Hmm, yeah. Everybody thought I looked like a vampire..." With that she parts her mouth, widens it, exposing a set of costume-shop fangs beyond her moist lips. The effect is disturbing, erotic.
His heartbeat quickens; he can't shake the image of her as some sort of succubus, a demon visiting his bed at night.
"But I think I look more like a witch." She studies him. "Maybe I should have carried a broom. I had a long black skirt on over this at the dance…do you think I look like a witch?" Her eyes sparkle darkly.
He nods in agreement. He can't take his eyes off her; in the moonbeams streaming through his window, she appears to almost glow.
A coy smile on her lips, her fangs flash. "I am a witch, you know," she purrs, tipsy, peering down at him, "a great and powerful witch..." She swells with pride above him, drawing breath, straightening her back.
He smiles weakly, thinking he is playing along with her in a charade, her act for the evening.
"You know why you're shrinking, Rich?" She bites her plump lower lip sensually. "It was me...my spells."
Yeah, not funny, he thinks. Not something to joke about.
"I made you what you really, really want to be...so small..."
She is joking, right? She’s drunk, she must be...there's no such thing as...? A shiver of doubt passes through him.
"You want to be so small, with me..."
It was impossible. She couldn't...she wouldn't...she can't know...
"I know what you want. You want a girl, a girl so much bigger than you. A girl with big boobs, long legs." Her voice is soft, hypnotic. "You want her to pick you up, like a little baby. You want her to put you between her breasts, to slip you into her bra. That's what you've always wanted. That's why you've always looked at the ladies with big breasts. Imagining it. That's how you always looked at me, I know, even at first, even at the concert. You wanted to be in here." She brushes the fingertips of one delicate hand across her impressive décolletage, leans in a bit towards him, demonstrating the soft valley of her cleavage.
How..? How could she..? He is shaking, now, in shame and fear.
"And so, Emily and I made a spell...to give you what you want. To make you smaller..."
Omigod. It can't be, he thinks. It doesn't make any sense. Even so, he becomes more afraid, trembling, aghast at what she says she's done, terrified of what she still may do. If this is true, what else could she be capable of? That thought, though it filled him with fear, is intensely arousing. But...but...this is impossible!
"And I’ve been practicing my magic, getting more powerful, so I could do this with you tonight. Finally, to give you what you really want.” With that she leans in more, towards him, to pull the covers back from his body, smiling as she sees his eyes dart down her cleavage before she sits back again on her haunches. He wears nothing save a small pair of briefs, obviously fit for a child. His arousal is apparent.
Keeping his gaze with her crooked smile, she slips two fingers into her creamy cleavage, between her breasts, and pulls out a small vial, about half-filled with dark powder. “Can I be your witch for you?” she asks, in a teasing, baby-doll voice, “Can I do my magic on you?”
He is visibly shaking as he watches her uncork the thin glass tube. “What spell do you think I have ready for you, hmm?” She giggles drunkenly, amused by his expression, his obvious fright. “A love spell, maybe? How would that be? I could make it so you would, like, totally worship me...Or…or a paralysis spell…so I could freeze you,” her eyes glimmer, “do anything I want with you?” I have this guy completely, like, quivering, she thinks.
“That turns you on, doesn’t it?” she says knowingly, “that I have all this power over you?” She watches him squirm and shake. “You like it, don’t you? Thinking about what I could do. The idea that I could weaken all your muscles, so you can’t move. Or that I could turn you into my slave, make it so you would do anything just to, like, lick my feet. You like it…yes, you do…you totally like the idea of being at my mercy.” She looked him over, giving him the chance to speak.
God, yes, he thinks, still silent, do it…anything…
“Well, Rich…here we go…” she continues, dropping a small bit of powder into one palm, “Watch…I’m going to show you just what I can do…I’m going to show you what you really want.”
She pinches the powder between two fingers and - tilting her head back on her elegant neck, closing her eyes - sprinkles it on herself. The powder shimmers in the half-light, catching the moon, and glitters as it falls onto the smooth skin of her chest. She draws a deep breath, inflating herself voluptuously.
And then…she begins to swell. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, but then more obviously. His eyes goggle in disbelief as he watches her - a wide, satisfied smile on her lips - grow above him. Her legs, her hips, her chest, indeed her entire body, burgeons anew. With a low, sensual moan she stretches, arching her back, reaching her arms above her head, as if to urge herself to even greater heights.
His jaw agape, his brain struggles in disbelief at what his senses are beholding. Traci, already so big to his smallness, becoming even bigger…right before his eyes. Unable to do anything but stare, he watches her thighs lengthen, rippling with firm, new muscle. He watches her breasts grow. He watches them stretch her suit thin, their pale flesh bulging over its seams. He watches her head rise further towards the ceiling. “Oh…god…” he thinks aloud, watching her ascend taller, “This can’t be happening…”
Her eyes flutter open, hearing his weak voice, and fall to him. “Oh, but it is, Rich, it is happening…” Her mouth is parted wantonly, relishing the look of abject fear on his face, “I’m growing…” she stretches more, “Watch…I’m getting bigger…” Savoring this indescribable sensation, this feeling of power which is filling her body, amplifying it, she puts her hands into her thick wig and enjoys the weight of his eyes on her.
With each breast now at least the size of her head, she is forced to lower her straps off her shoulders before her growth finally ceases. How big she is now, he cannot guess…she seems a giant. Breathing deeply but evenly as her body reaches its final, enormous size, her gaze meets his again. He is startled at the perfection of the newfound beauty in her face, shocked by the depth of her radiant eyes. “Did you like that, Rich…did you like watching me grow?”
She closes her eyes again, for a moment, basking in the sensations of her new body, her new beauty. She runs her hands down her sides, her eyes opening wide in giddy surprise. “Oh my god!” she exclaims, giggling as she looks down at her new figure, “Look at me! I’m…huge!” She laughs again, incredulous, evidently pleased.
“Can you imagine,” she asks as she leans in toward him, over him, a mischievously wicked smile on her lips, “what it would be like to suck on these?” Her enormous breasts, barely contained in her overwrought swimsuit, hover over him, so heavy. “Your face would be so little against them now…” He can not believe, can barely comprehend, their sheer mass.
His eyes widen, he whines in sudden fear as she reaches for him. “Shh…shh…” she coos, “don’t be afraid…we’re just getting started.” With him now the size of a small infant to her, she easily overcomes his struggles and lifts him from the bed, below his arms. Holding him before her face, she looks him in the eyes as his legs dangle helplessly. She studies him tenderly for a moment before drawing him in, slowly, for a kiss. He is mesmerized by the sight of her full, painted lips. As they draw nearer, her sweet smile begins to widen, causing his heart to rise in his throat, his breath catch, as she once again bares her fangs.
But soon he can see no more, enveloped in darkness as her mouth covers him with slow, wet kisses, smearing his face with her heavy lipstick. Her lips, her tongue runs themselves over him, sucking at him as she clucks at him in affection. Writhing in shame, fear and arousal, he feel her hands shift him in their grip, to cradle his body. “Oh, I could just eat you!” she purrs, growling as she mouths his face before ending their kiss, “eat you all up, little man…”
Slowly, she lowers him to her chest and holds him, like a mother with her baby, to her breast. Bouncing him in her arms, she presses his face into her flesh, her firm nipple still covered by the taut, elastic material of her bathing suit. He feels enveloped in her embrace, surrounded by her soft warmth. “Now, how does that feel, huh?” she asks, “Pretty nice?”
Already confused, he drifts further from reality, drowning in her lush, smothering comfort. “I’ve been watching you, y’know,” she whispers, as she repositions him at her breast, “seen you, all along, when you jerk off. When you’re in your house, all alone. I’ve seen you, thinking about me, thinking about my body.” She presses his face into her firm flesh, sliding the nub of her nipple to his mouth, urging him to take it through her suit.
“I know what you want. I understand.” He begins to mouth at her. “It’s not just about big boobs,” she continues, “It’s not just about me being your mommy. It’s about being, like, inside a woman. Inside her body. Surrounded by her. Under her. Under her breasts, under her power. Completely under her care.” She smiles, feeling him dry-suckling feebly at her. “Well, here we are, Rich. Here I am. A woman. A woman to take care of you. A woman to take care of everything for you.”
Looking down at him tenderly, she lowers the bodice of her swimsuit down, giving him her nipple. He takes it, and continues to suck.
“You won’t have to worry about anything,” she resumes, as her milk begins to flow, “anything at all. Not with me here. I’m going to go to college – yes, yes, I can be a normal size again, if I want – To an ivy league school. With everything I’ve got -my brains, my body, my witchcraft - I’m going to be so successful. I’m going to make millions of dollars. I’ll be rich…powerful…”
Still silent as he nursed at her, he opens his eyes and looks up at her, so beautiful. She has taken off her wig, removed her plastic fangs. Her dark blonde hair remains pinned behind her head as she peers down at him. He closes his eyes again.
“And all the while, you’ll be with me…I’m going to take such good care of you. You’ll be totally helpless, so weak, so very, very small. But you won’t have to worry, you’ll have me.”
As he listens to her terrifying, comforting words and suckles the milk from her huge, soft breast he thinks yes, how nice it would be, to give himself up to her, to whatever she has planned. To let himself be taken completely into her warm embrace. She would love him. She would take care of him. And she will be so beautiful.
“I understand, Rich, what you want. I know what you need. So, here, sweetie, here we go…”
He feels a shimmering, a tingling ripple pass through his skin as she sprinkles the last of her powder onto him. A familiar sensation, though more intense, more acute than ever. He feels himself, suddenly, beginning to shrink. Fast. Faster than before, faster than ever. A strange feeling, not altogether unpleasant, as her warmth envelops him further.
“You’re getting smaller, Rich….smaller and smaller and smaller…”
His briefs are taken easily from him. Gradually, the arms that hold him become hands, then a single hand. A hand which, through gentle, firm pressure, seems to guide his decline, squeeze him smaller and smaller. Soon he is little bigger than a few inches, and unable to continue nursing.
“It’s going to be just like you always wanted,” her voice is all around him, “just like you always dreamed.” Still holding him to her firm flesh, she pulls her bathing suit back up over her breast, trapping him beneath its elastic material. He is held fast, plastered against her smooth, milky skin. “There, now. How’s that, Rich?” He thinks he hears her giggle. “How does that feel?” Her fingers caress him from behind, pressing him into her breast. “Is this how you always imagined it?” she asks from on high, “trapped against Traci’s big breast?”
He licks and kisses at her skin feebly, rutting into her flesh with rhythmic thrusts. “And, look, honey, look how you’re getting even smaller…and smaller.”
As he continues to dwindle he feels her peel the suit away a bit, grasp him oh-so-gently between two fingers and slide him over until he is supported, once again trapped, between her two breasts. Now, in near total darkness, he is surrounded on all sides by her warmth, her flesh, her skin. Totally consumed by her cleavage.
“Are you afraid, sweetie? Afraid that I’ll hurt you? Afraid that I’ll crush you?” The softness of her flesh rolls over him in muscular waves as she squeezes him, pressing her breasts together with her arms, as if to force him even smaller. Smaller. Smaller. “Are you afraid that you’ll get too small? Afraid that you’ll slip, like a piece of dust, under my big breast? Afraid that you’ll just…disappear?”
Now just a fraction of an inch, he has shrunk to the point that – when she spreads her arms and arches her back – he slides downs, down, down, falling from her cleavage to rest against her firm, flat belly. Trapped in the hollow between her stomach and her bathing suit, he looks up – to him a great distance – at the undersides of her great, massive breasts. Huge, like mountains looming above him.
“No, no, honey,” she purrs, bringing her hand down to press him, hold him to her through the suit, “I would never let that happen.” She can barely feel him, a little bump on her belly, against her fingertips. She urges him lower, lower down her smooth abdomen. “I won’t let you disappear.”
The warmth from her skin is hypnotizing, her perfumed scent intoxicating. He closes his eyes and lays his head against her stomach.
“I’m going to keep you with me, baby, inside me. Just like you’ve always wanted.” As he shrinks smaller still, he can feel himself dropping, almost melting, into her skin. Being absorbed. Into her. “I’m going to keep you warm. Keep you safe. Inside me. Inside my belly.” She presses him in, down, deep into her flesh.
He can feel her womb pulsing, ready, waiting for him as he sinks into her.
“And someday, honey, someday I’ll let you start to grow again.” Her voice is disappearing to his ears; he feels her words now emanating throughout his entire, withering body. “Someday you’ll start to grow again, inside me, Rich. Like a baby. Grow and grow and grow. Until you’re ready, sweetie, ready to come back out.”
He is now in utter darkness, having lost the use of his eyes, surrounded by her flesh. He is soon a tiny clump of tissue, falling into the smothering embrace of her womb.
“And then, honey, then I’ll do it. I’ll give birth. I’ll give birth to you. My beautiful, new little baby. My little baby boy.”
He feels her walls grasp him, take him, imbedding him into her womanhood. He is now all but absorbed, a small bundle of cells, awash in her warm fluids, her heartbeat his own.
“Until then, baby, enjoy me.”
As he settles, losing the last hints of consciousness, into her womb, he smiles inwardly, looking forward to the day when he would finally, again, look up and see her smiling, happy face. His beautiful new mother, beaming down at him.