Big Little sister Redux: Eclipse revisited

Big Little sister Redux: Eclipse revisited
I hadn’t expected Becky to be here, but that really looked like her walking right up ahead of me
at the carnival. “Hey k**do!” I said as I tapped her on the back. She spun around to face me.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I thought you were my girlfriend…”
“Hi, Mike! How are you?” I blinked in confusion. “Don’t you recognize me?” The girl was smiling,
a big grin on her face, looking right into my eyes. She really looked familiar, so much like Becky,
but…it couldn’t be…
“Laurie? Is that you?”
“Mmmmhmmm…Why? Have I changed much?” Laurie grinned, stepping back and putting her
hands on her hips, inviting me to look her over. She sure had changed! In a few short months
, she had grown into a very pretty girl – almost the same size as her older sister. It was really
mind boggling to see cute little c***dish Laurie suddenly so grown up, especially when she was
so giggly and immature before. I guess Laurie could see from my expression that I was really
surprised. She giggled and offered an explanation. “Yeah, I’ve been on these special…hormone
injections. I’ve been taking ’em for the last few months and they’re really working!”
“Boy, I’ll say. You look great, Laurie.” It really was incredible, the things modern science can do
these days. I should know, with all the medical stuff I’d been going through myself lately. But
more on that later. Anyway, she and I ended up walking around together for a while, but soon I
had to leave. Laurie asked if I could give her a ride home, and we found ourselves sitting alone
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together in the front seat of my car. Laurie had been constantly smiling at me the whole time
since we had met, a big grin on her face and this kind of goofy look in her eyes. I guess she still
had a little crush on me.
“Mike, do you think I’m pretty?” Laurie’s high lilting voice had a teasing tone to it.
“Sure Laurie. You’re very pretty for a girl. Why, don’t you have a boyfriend at school?” She
didn’t seem to acknowledge my question.
A minute’s pause, then, “Mike, do you think I’m… sexy?” Hmmm… we were treading on
dangerous ground here. This was the sister of my girlfriend, and a k**, to boot.
“Well, Laurie, I think you’re a little young for me to answer that…”
“But, do you think Becky’s sexy?”
“Well, umm… yeah, sure. Becky’s my girlfriend. She’s also older than you are.” I didn’t like
where this was going and wanted to try to cut it off before it got out of hand.
“Well, I’m wearing Becky’s dress and it fits me just right. So, if you think Becky’s sexy, then you
must think I’m sexy, too, right?”
“Now Laurie, that’s enough of that…”
But, as I tried to concentrate on driving, Laurie sat up on her knees and leaned in close,
whispering into my ear and giggling. “And I’m wearing Becky’s bra…it fits me just right, too!”
“Okay, Laurie, enough already.” That whisper in my ear actually got me aroused, to my chagrin.
Luckily, we were just arriving at her house, so I pulled the car over and turned to give Laurie
what I hoped was an appropriately stern look. “Now, look, Laurie…You’re just a f******n year
old girl…”
“Fifteen!” corrected Laurie, giggling, her big smiling eyes locked on mine.
“OK, anyway, you’re much too young to be acting like this with me. Now you are a very nice,
pretty, young girl and you should be with a boy your own age.”
Laurie pouted, her big wide eyes showing her frustration. “But why can’t we – ”
I jumped out of the car, raced around to Laurie’s side and yanked open the door for her. “That’s
enough, Laurie. Now if you don’t mind I have to get going…” Laurie giggled and hopped out,
standing next to me, still looking up at me with those big, love sick eyes.
“Thanks, Mike,” She said breathlessly, “I know you’re doing this to be nice..” She stood before
me on her tiptoes and closed her eyes, puckering her lips, I guess hoping for a kiss good-bye. I
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gave her a little peck on her forehead, and she frowned in disappointment.
“Goodbye, Laurie. You’re a great girl. Take my advice and get a boyfriend your own age.” I
remember long after I drove off I could still see her in the rear view mirror standing on the
sidewalk watching after me and waving good-bye.
Well, anyway, back to what I had mentioned earlier. Last year in college I had somehow
contracted this rare African virus that had popped up first in the states several years ago. My
doctor wasn’t real clear about it, but it basically would kill me – or, I guess, put me in a c*** –
unless I started receiving frequent vaccinations of another form of the weakened virus. I guess
they try to build your immune system up to a point where your body neutralizes the virus. I
don’t know, I’m not really the science type. This would all be fine and good, I guess – I felt fine –
but the vaccine, over time, makes you smaller. Barely noticeable at first, but the longer it takes
your body to build up the antibodies, the smaller you get. Though it was pretty rare, I had seen
some news clips of some guys around the country who shrank to, like, less than a foot. Freaky
to watch. Most patients, my doctor says, get better far before that. I just hoped I’d get better
quickly. So, I went to school again in the fall, trying to act like everything was normal, more or
less at my own size. But, I had begun to notice a change throughout the semester. By the time I
had shrunk from my normal height of six feet to five-foot nine, I thought it a good idea to return
home and not return for the following semester.
So, it was around Christmas, a Saturday night and Becky and I were planning to go out to dinner
and the movies. I arrived at her house a little early, and knocked at the door. I was a little
surprised to see an unfamiliar young woman open the door, and I greeted her nervously. Maybe
it was one of Becky’s friends from high school? Did Becky hang out with such hotties? “Oh, hi,
I’m here to see Becky…” The girl giggled coquettishly, holding her hand over her mouth and
smiled brightly. There was an awkward silence, so I continued. “My name’s Mike. I’m a friend of
hers…” just then the seed of recognition popped into my head…
She started laughing, and then spoke, “Mike! Now don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about me
again?” My mouth dropped open. It couldn’t be. “Duh! It’s me, Laurie! I guess I must’ve grown
some more since I saw you!” She had a flirty smile and was leaning languorously against the
door frame. My God, did she grow. Little Laurie had somehow been transformed into
this…this…What had happened to the cute little girl I knew? Standing in the doorway was a sexy
young woman, full breasts straining against a fuzzy pink sweater, graceful curves of her hips and
long, coltish legs poured into a skin tight pair of white pants. And staring at me was no longer a
cute little pixie face, but the face of a mature young woman, her high cheekbones and full lips
giving her an air of sophistication. I guess I was sort of in a state of shock, because I didn’t say
much before she laughed and invited me inside. As she walked ahead of me I found it hard not
to get distracted by her rolling hips. “Becky’s still getting ready. Why don’t you come in to the
living room and wait a while?” My heart was still beating fast and I was taking deep breaths to
try to calm down. Suddenly Laurie stopped and turned towards me. I had been walking right
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behind her and had almost bumped into her, so we ended up standing almost toe to toe with
each other, her face inches from mine. As she smiled and looked into my eyes I noticed she had
grown taller, too – by now she must’ve been five foot six or so. “Know where we are now?” she
asked, giggling.
“Uh, what do you mean? In your house?”
“No, silly!” She smiled and signaled with her eyes above our heads, where a green sprig of
leaves was hanging. “We’re under the mistletoe!” My objections were suddenly cut off as Laurie
leaned in and planted a kiss full on my lips, pressing her body to mine. At first I was too shocked
to react, but I quickly came to my senses and started to try to push her away. It was a bit of a
struggle – but I succeeded in fending her off and stood holding her at arms’ length.
“Laurie! What’s come over you?” But whatever I said didn’t seem to register as she just stood
there smiling directly into my eyes, a grin on her face. Yikes. She was hot, and I wasn’t a guy
who usually got a lot of attention from girls, but I didn’t need this. Becky would be pissed – at
me, at her, just pissed.
Becky was coming down the stairs, ready for our date. I must have seemed a little breathless as
I greeted her, but if she noticed she didn’t say anything. Laurie for her part was smooth – she
acted like nothing had happened, smiling and wishing us both a nice evening. It wasn’t until
after we had driven away that my thumping heart started to return to normal. I even got up the
nerve to steer Becky into conversation about her little sister, though she didn’t seem too keen
on talking about her. Maybe a little jealous of Laurie’s blooming figure. No real boyfriend, Becky
said, because her doctors were concerned that her hormonal condition may be transmissible.
“Yeah, but she’s a little flirt. But she knows she can’t do anything with these guys. She’s just
turning into a major tease.” And how, I thought. If I had had a girl that looked like that to lust
after in high school…well, I wouldn’t have gotten much homework done.
After the movie Becky and I had our usual heavy petting session in the car. No sex – not that we
ever had, because my doctor assured me that intercourse was the way this virus thing was
transmitted between men and women. But, Becky was usually up for other activities. Good
thing for me – because another effect of this virus was an increased libido. And I still had Laurie
on my brain. And so, as we made out, I couldn’t help but compare Becky to her voluptuous little
sister. I had to confess that, well, Becky’s breasts seemed a bit on the small side, and her hair
didn’t tumble and flow like Laurie’s as we had walked through the house. While I kissed Becky,
all I could think about were Laurie’s big, bright eyes sparkling with that confidence that came
with those hips, those legs, that beautiful body of hers. And, as Becky’s hand went to my
member, stroking it, I saw her little sister’s smile, imagined my hands on her thin waist, cupping
her full, soft breasts. I came with visions of Laurie’s radiant face gazing into mine. Did I feel
guilty, thinking about my girlfriend’s sister as she beat me off? Well, yeah, I did. And, hey,
Becky’s my girl. I was determined to put the little incident with Laurie behind me. Within a few
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days I had pretty much forgotten about it.
At home, my shrinking began to accelerate. A lot. My mom was cool, taking good care of me
but not making me feel like a helpless freak. By the beginning of the summer, I had shrank to
three feet tall, and was able to do less and less by myself, but we had set my room up to give
me a good deal of independence. She was also a decent seamstress, so she was able to put
together some makeshift clothes for me so I didn’t have to buy k**’s stuff.
While loathing to be in public in this state, I finally began to get antsy and one day had my mom
drop me off at the Mall to get something to read. It was really strange walking around as a little
guy with all these giants towering over me. I pretty much kept my head down and headed for
the bookstore – I sure didn’t want to see anyone who recognized me. While looking through the
magazines, the most beautiful pair of legs appeared next to me. Impossibly long, shapely and
lovely, and those feet! Wrapped in beautiful sandals with big high heels. My head was below hip
height – so without looking up I could only see her from her legs down. As I stole a quick look up
at the rest of her my heart caught in my throat…Laurie! My god! Look at the body on her! I
immediately hid my head, hoping she wouldn’t notice me in this diminished state; I would be
mortified.
My heart was pounding like mad, I was shaking all over as I continued to sneak sideways glances
at those shapely legs. I knew I should slip away before she saw me, but I was paralyzed by the
sight of her. So I just stood there frozen, hardly able to breathe, consumed by my raging libido
and waiting helplessly until she decided to move on.
Unable to stand it any more, I was just turning to put my magazine away and ignominiously
slink to the back of the store when I heard a familiar voice from above. “Mike is that you?
Ohmigod! It can’t be… ” Jeeeez. “Mike! It IS you! Wow!” The girl had to bend over almost
double to look down at me. I looked sheepishly up at the huge smiling face towering over me.
“Oh…hi Laurie..” Laurie, grinning from ear to ear, crouched down to bring her face close to
mine. Even so, she was still taller than me – I had to tilt my neck to look at her.
“Wow, Mike! Just look at you! I mean, Becky told me all about what’s happened, but – wow! I
just can’t get over how you look!” She unabashedly looked me up and down several times.
“Er, um… yeah. (cough) It’s really something, huh?” I was never so embarrassed in my life. Of all
people to run into, why did it have to be her?
“What magazine are you reading? Maxim, huh? For the articles…right?” she teased. I tried to
avoid her gaze, looking down at the floor. “Uhh..it was the only one I could reach, besides the
k**’s magazines…”
“Oh, okayyy…” Laurie, wearing a tight, short dress, was still grinning and looking down at me
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with that huge lovely face and those big eyes. I think she could tell I was really embarrassed.
“Hey, Mike, it’s okay! Don’t be shy… It’s just me! Besides…” she reached her big hand out to
touch my face. “I think you look really cute!”
I needed to get out of there – fast. “Er, thanks, Laurie, but, look, I really have to get going. I
need to catch the bus so I can get back home…”
“Hey, wait! Don’t go running away! Can’t we walk around together? I’m all by myself.”
“Er, Laurie, I’d love to, but, um… like I said the bus will be leaving soon. I-it’s the last one today,
so I can’t afford to miss it. I can’t drive a-anymore ’cause, well, you know…”
Laurie frowned, her face scrunching up as her eyebrows furrowed. Suddenly, she broke out into
a big smile. “Hey! I can give you a ride home – I’ve got my car here!”
“Um, n-no, thanks, Laurie. I don’t want you to go through so much trouble for me. I’ll be OK.”
“No! It’s no trouble at all. In fact, it’s perfect – I only have my learner’s permit so I need a driver
to sit with me.”
“Yeah, but still, I…”
“Pleeease, Mike? It’d really be a big help. And I’d LOVE to give you a ride! Becky should be
home, you can visit her.”
“Well…”
“Great! Thanks Mike! This’ll be such fun! Did you ever think I’d be driving you around?” I really
don’t know how I let myself get talked into these things. I felt I was in a daze as I found myself
trailing after Laurie through the Mall, her beautiful long legs and sexy rear leading me out to her
car. I was too little to open the door to her SUV, so she opened it for me, waiting patiently while
I laboriously climbed up into the front seat. I was pretty quiet the whole way back as she gaily
prattled on, talking non-stop about her friends at school, or whatever. The whole time I was
desperately wrestling to suppress my thoughts and keep my gaze straight ahead. Nonetheless, I
couldn’t keep myself from stealing sidelong glances of her curvy profile.
Though Laurie had said Becky was back at her house, when we got there nobody was around. I
really wanted to get back home, but Laurie convinced me to wait around at her place for Becky.
She called Becky’s cell phone, leaving a message that we were here.
“Want to hear the new CD’s I bought?”
“Um, sure, Laurie.” Who knows how long we had to wait? It was a lot better than the two of us
just sitting there in awkward silence.
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“Great! C’mon up to my room – we can hear it on my stereo.” Laurie turned and started
bounding up the stairs.
“Uhh, Couldn’t we listen to it down here?”
Laurie turned and grinned down at me. “Are you k**ding. My Dad’s stereo is ancient. C’mon up.”
She could see from my expression I still needed convincing. “Don’t worry, Mike. There’s nothing
to be afraid of, I don’t bite!”
As I slowly clambered up the big steps one by one after the towering teen, I started to get this
feeling that I was sliding down a slippery slope, that events were somehow overtaking me and I
was just a pawn in the grip of fate. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, going alone into this girl’s
bedroom, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was a bit out of breath when I finally reached the top of
the stairs, with Laurie waiting for me. She showed me into her room and, I noticed, closed the
door after herself. She kneeled down on the floor, putting a CD in the stereo, the big heartshaped
mound of her firm rear beckoning. The sight took what little breath I had left away and
made me even more dizzy.
She spun around to face me as she stood up and grinned “Wanna see what else I got at the
Mall?”
“Umm.. sure. What is it?”
“It’s a surprise. I think you’ll really like it!” Laurie bounced in a single motion to her bed where
her purchases lay. “Just wait right here and I’ll be back out in just a second.” She reached into
her shopping bag and took out a small package, then disappeared into her bathroom, closing
the door behind her.
Somehow I wasn’t getting a good feeling about this. What if Becky returned and found us
together, as innocent as it was? I had a brief panic attack and decided to try to escape while I
still could. Like walking though molasses, I made my way towards the bedroom door. Suddenly
the bathroom door opened, “Well, what do you think?”
My throat went dry and my breathing stopped. I can’t recall – I may have cried out, or issued a
pitiful squeak, but I was completely riveted by the vision before me. Laurie was standing in the
doorway wearing a bikini, a bright yellow number that barely covered her astounding charms.
The skimpy suit left nothing to the imagination – her long legs, sexy hips, wasp waist, flat
stomach, and full breasts were looming before me, topped off by her beautiful face with that
same grin, and those same big eyes smiling down right at me.
“Well, Mike? Aren’t you gonna say something?”
I think I cleared my throat two or three times before I was able to croak out a response.
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“Umm… g-gosh, Laurie. (cough) T-that’s quite a b-bathing suit.”
“Yeah,” she giggled, as she looked in the mirror with a proud smile, “Cool, huh?” She turned
around, giving me first a magnificent profile view of her big breasts, then a gut wrenching
display of her round rear end. As she stood with her lovely backside towards me, she tugged at
the little string holding the bikini bottom, “God, I have such a bubble butt. It feels a little tight.
Do you think it fits me okay?”
This couldn’t go on – I had to do something before I lost it completely. With a supreme effort, I
tried to banish any thoughts of my sexual fantasies and struggled to get back to sobriety. Taking
a deep breath, I attempted to make my small voice sound as deep and adult as possible. “Now
look, Laurie. You’re a very pretty young girl, but I just don’t think that bathing suit is appropriate
for you. It’s just too revealing! Now Laurie, you’re only fiftee…”
“I’m sixteen now.” Laurie corrected.
“Okay, sixteen. Anyhow, that’s still too young! Now, you look very nice, but – and I think your
mom and dad would agree with me – you’re just not old enough to wear something like that.”
“Something like what? Something that shows off my body?” Laurie pouted coyly and batted her
big eyelashes at me. “Don’t you like it? Don’t I look nice in it?”
“Y-you look great, Laurie. It’s just – well, you’re a very nice girl and I think you should wait until
you’re older before you wear this kind of thing…”
Laurie burst into a huge grin and dropped to her knees, her big face looming before me.
“Oh, Mike! You’re so sweet! You always say the nicest things! I just love it how you’re always
looking out for me!” She leaned over and gave me a kiss on my forehead, treating me to an
incredible view of her cleavage, her breasts barely contained by her bikini top. She jumped back
to her feet and wiggled off back into the bathroom, leaving me to practice my deep breathing in
an effort to calm my heart. As the door closed behind her I felt like I had survived some kind of
trial by fire. After a minute the bathroom door cracked open, and Laurie’s pretty face peeked
out. “Mike? Could you help me with something?”
Uh oh. “Umm.. sure, I guess, Laurie. W-what is it?”
“It’s this top. It seems kinda stuck. I can’t get it off. Could you help me untie it?” Still clad in her
bikini, Laurie came out and sat down on her bed, turning her back to me and looking down at
the strap behind her. “I think it’s all knotted up. Can you come up here and see if you can get it
undone?”
Once again feeling myself caught helplessly in the grip of some nefarious fate, I struggled to
climb up onto the bed next to her. Even sitting on the bed with her sitting next to me, she still
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was a good couple heads taller than me. Her lovely back was completely bare save for the thin
strap. I struggled to keep from trembling again as I gingerly approached her, and reached out
with my small hands to try to unravel the knot. It really was stuck, horribly so, as if she had
done it on purpose. As I worked on the difficult task I had to lean in close to her huge warm
bare back, her long, graceful neck.
As I stood close to her, wrestling with the bikini top, my erotic fantasies again started to bubble
to the surface. I found myself sweating, my breathing shallow as I feverishly worked so close to
her. To my horror, I found I had developed a raging erection which was now straining at my
pants. I prayed Laurie wouldn’t look back at me, and desperately fought to keep from getting
further aroused.
“Mike? Can I ask you a question?”
“Umm… sure.” My voice squeaked as I spoke.
“Do you ever have, like, fantasies?”
“Uh.. (cough) Ummm.. what?”
“Well, now that you’re so small. Do you imagine being with girls? And having them be…bigger
than you? Like, what would happen. I know you see my sister every once in a while, but I know
you two don’t mess around too much anymore – and she’s kinda small and scrawny to begin
with. Do you ever think about really big girls?”
“G-gosh, Laurie. (cough, cough) W-what makes you ask that?”
She turned around to look at me and I moved quickly to hide my hard on. “Well, sometimes
when I see something on TV with, like a big girl and a little guy, and I think about how Becky said
you’ve been shrinking, I think about you.” Was she serious? Or was she saying this just to see
my reaction? I tried to keep my composure.
“(cough) Y-you d-don’t say.”
“Yeah, like the other night I was watching I Dream of Jeannie – y’know the reruns they show at
night – and Jeannie took Major Nelson and shrank him down to doll size. Did you ever see that
one?”
“Ummm.. I d-don’t kn-”
“Well, anyway after I saw that show, I kept day dreaming about what it would be like to be
Jeannie, and to, like, have a guy that was little. What you could do with him.” She turned and
looked at me, raising her eyebrows questioningly. “You don’t mind me talking about this, do
you?”
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“N-no, Laurie. It’s o-okay..” God I was so turned on.
“So, what does stuff like that make you think about?” She was curious, and obviously figuring
out she was pushing my buttons.
I took a deep breath, then (against my better judgment) decided to plunge ahead. “Look, Laurie.
I do. I mean…I have thought about being with girls. And me being so small…”
Laurie looked deeper into me, her beautiful face lighting up in a smile. “Really?? Oh, Mike, tell
me about it!”
“Er, (cough) well…” I really wasn’t sure how far I wanted to head in this direction…
“C’mon, Mike, Pleeease!” She was now turned completely around towards me, her huge
breasts hovering just below my face.
“Well, all right. I guess I’ve had…f-fantasies, too. Like, I’m a l-little guy with a big w-woman. Er,
like, a giantess, I mean.” I had lost all sense of reason, being so very aroused.
“But, she wouldn’t be a giantess. It’s just you that’s really small. She could be normal size,
right?” Almost imperceptibly, she inched closer to me. I took in a waft of sweet perfume from
her deep cleavage.
“Uhhh…yeah, I g-guess..”
“She could be just a normal sized girl. But she’d look really big to you, wouldn’t she?” she said as
she pushed back her shoulders, presenting a mind-numbing view of her breasts. I couldn’t
believe what was happening.
“y-y-yeah..”
“Kind of like how I look right now, hmm? Really…big.”
I was speechless. She drew up taller and moved in towards me, brushing my cheek with her
finger, putting her hand behind my neck. My breath became quick, shallow as I now looked
straight into her big, firm breasts. Would she do it, would she actually try? The moment was
silent, a pin could drop. A palpable energy filled the air between us – that of a girl slowly
realizing the power of her developing body.
And then I felt it, the slow, gentle pressure of her hand urging me to her. At the same time, she
began to lean in towards me. Was I actually this weak? Would I really let this girl, Becky’s little
sister, seduce me so easily? A fleeting wisp of willpower, a single thought of resistance, ebbed
into me but quickly wilted as I watched her young, overly ripe bosom approach.
Just as I decided to close my eyes, to give in to my own desire and the temptations of this
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beautiful girl, to meet her soft flesh with my upturned face, a quick knock hit the bedroom door
and the knob began to turn.
“Hellooo…? Mike? Laur? Are you guys in here?” Becky!
We bolted apart in a flash; I leapt to my feet on the floor as Laurie leaned back onto the bed.
“Hey guys, what have you been…up…to?” Becky’s voice was friendly but as she took in the
situation – me quick of breath, probably flushed, Laurie dressed as she was with a thin smile on
her lips – her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Laurie and I came up with excuses which somehow
seemed plausible to me at the time. Listening to music, a quick run up the stairs in my
weakened condition, getting ready for the tanning salon. I don’t know how much of it she
actually bought, but any outward signs of suspicion soon evaporated as Becky and Laurie
continued chatting over my head, leaving me reeling and queasy with guilt. How could I have let
myself get into this situation?
Soon, Becky decided it was time to take me home and I waved a quick goodbye to Laurie, our
eyes meeting for only a second before I had to turn away. Our car ride back to my mother’s
house was uncomfortable – for me, at least. I think I overcompensated for my nervousness by
talking too much. Becky dropped me off with a quick peck on the cheek; as I had been
shrinking, our relationship had begun to cool physically. She admitted she felt “weird” being
intimate with a guy who was looking more and more like a little boy every day. We still hung
out, though less and less often as she became busy with her summer job and preparing for her
first year away at college. In the time that we did spend together, she (out of embarrassment
for her boyfriend’s dwindling stature, I guess) kept me away from her friends, her house, her
family, and – notably – any chance of running into Laurie.
Left, therefore, alone most days at home with no girlfriend around, no social outlets and no
transportation (my mother away at work more often than not), I found myself with plenty of
time to play on the computer and, I’m shamed to admit, fantasize about Laurie. Never before
had I been so close to intimacy with a body like hers. God, those breasts, those hips, those legs,
that beautiful face. All of my girlfriends throughout my life had been like Becky – cute,
sometimes, but smart and plain rather than Barbie Doll. Laurie, rather, was all long, ripe,
luscious curves, tanned and toned. I couldn’t get the thoughts of her out of my brain, and kept
replaying the scene on the bed over and over again in my head.
Though I continued to slowly shrink, my obsession grew along with my virus-fueled libido; the
several photos I had of Becky that included her sister served as fuel for the fire. As did the
stories downloaded from the GTS forums, all of which I read over and over with images of
Laurie in mind. Thus my days came and went, jerking off to thoughts of my girlfriend’s sister in
between trips to the doctor, cordial visits from Becky and games of Scrabble with my mother.
Nice life, huh? I wasn’t too proud of myself but didn’t have the willpower to stop.
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And then, several weeks after I was last at her house, I got an e-mail from Laurie. My throat
caught upon seeing it in my inbox, and I immediately knew I needed to show caution. Perhaps I
had been obsessing over Laurie recently, but I couldn’t let her know I’d been thinking about her
at all.
“Hi, Mike!!” her note began “How R you?? Becky hasn’t mentioned u much so I thought I’d get
in touch with u myself. I’ve been at the beach a LOT, hanging out with my friends, etc. etc.
Hey!!! I got my license! Woooo! It’s great 2 be able 2 drive myself around! How have u been
feeling? What have u been up to?” If she only knew; maybe she’s guessed? “How tall are u
now? Are u like Major Nelson yet? If u ever get that small let me know – I’ve still got
clothes from my Ken & Barbie set u can have! Hugzzz- Laurie”
I delayed my reply a day or so, so as not to appear eager or over-interested. It was friendly and
short, though I admitted – for better or worse – that I was bored and lonely. With that, I gave her
an opening, nearly an invitation, for our correspondence continuing. Probably a mistake, but I
was weak and obsessed and craved contact of any sort from her. I thought I could keep cool and
handle an innocent relationship with her through e-mail, unbeknownst to Becky.
Her reply back to me came quickly, and began a series of daily correspondences which became –
contrary to my original intentions – increasingly playful and flirty, to my aroused, guilty thrill. I
was, I think, emboldened by my solitude and disconnect and hinted, I’m sure, at a friendly
interest in her. Though I’m shamed to admit it, my e-mails to Laurie – now signed “Major
Nelson” – became the highpoint of my day.
I was not, however, bold enough to suggest a meeting or invite her over to my empty house for
an innocent visit. My conscience, I told myself, and respect for Becky, were still to strong. Or
maybe I was just a freaking wimp, too weak to stop thinking about her and too timid to do
something about it. All I know is that my growing sense of guilt began to make the time Becky
and I spent together less and less comfortable; I no longer looked forward to her visits as I once
had.
Laurie, for her part, kept me enthralled with stories of her mundane, everyday life. I hung on
her every inarticulate word describing her teenage comings and goings. Subtly, I like to think, I
encouraged her as she peppered our correspondence with news of her growth spurt (“Five foot
eight! I’m going to be taller than my dad if this doesn’t stop soon!!”) and new lingerie collection
(“I just outgrew my last 32DD. The only new bra I could find in a bigger size at the department
store with my mom makes me look like somebody’s grandma!”)
Let me give you some excerpts from a few of our conversations. First, my response to her new
height:
“That’s okay. If you keep growing you can be a basketball player. Just have to learn how to play.
12
Or you can star in the movie version of ‘She-Hulk’. But, I dunno how you’d look in green skin. :)”
She replied: “Or, hey, I can be in movies for those guys on the internet who are all into
giantesses. I’d have 2 get really big!! Have u seen those websites?”
I feigned ignorance, but she persisted.
“You should. I think you’d like them , Major Nelson!! They’re all about big girls. And little guys.
And what the big girls do to the little guys. Some guys want to be squished. Some want to be
eaten. Some want to be cuddled. You can tell me what YOU’D like!!
In reply I lied, telling her sites like that weren’t for me and that “I don’t think I’d want to be
squished. I just want to be normal size again.”
“Oooooh! Poor baby! I’ll make sure I try not to squish you! :)”
For me this thread was getting too provocative, so I ended it with a “thanks for the no-squish
rule. No eating, either,” and a change of subject, but not before I mentioned – a big mistake, I
know, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to cuddle!” I hoped that it came across as a joke.
Mostly. God, I’m an idiot.
I didn’t do too much better in self restraint when she mentioned her new bra: “I’m sure you
don’t look like somebody’s grandma. Grandmas have wrinkles and livers spots everywhere and
smell like Noxema.”
“Well, maybe no wrinkles, but look at this thing!” Her reply came with an attached file. “I used
my dad’s digital camera with a timer 2 take this.” The picture was a grainy frontal shot of her
seated at her computer with a white, satin, rather industrial looking bra covering her full chest.
My god, my jaw dropped. “Let me know if you want more pictures.”
Needless to say, I beat off to this picture of this young girl in her big, womanly bra more times
than I want to admit before I could muster a halfheartedly humorous reply, “Wow! You could
carry your schoolbooks in that thing!”
Her response filled my sick little head with images, “Or maybe I could carry YOU in it!! Would
you fit yet??”
Once again, this was getting too heated for my weak heart and battered conscience, so I
assured her that I had no intention of trying to fit inside her bra. Her response: ” 🙁 “.
I did, however, break down and told her, sure, it would be okay if she wanted to send me more
pictures, that I didn’t get to see many friendly human faces these days. What I got were not
necessarily pictures of her face. More fuel for my erotic fantasies, a new attachment every few
days (“I’d send more but itz kinda hard sneaking the camera out of my Dad’s briefcase. He uses
13
it at the lab.”) Mostly pictures of her posing – innocently, I admit – in different outfits (“My new
sweater from Old Navy.” “My new one-piece. Too ‘Baywatch’??” “My dress from our spring
formal – boy! I don’t fit in this anymore!!”) Nonetheless, her body looked to be approaching
utterly fantastic, the sort of curves men drool over.
She asked me, at one point, what I did with the photos. Again, I lied, saying I deleted them along
with her notes. Truth is, I had started a pretty good sized “Laurie” folder of .jpgs and e-mail. Her
next reply was accompanied by a close-up shot of her smiling, eyes gleaming and bright with a
hint of mischief. She was leaning towards the camera, her cleavage flowing from a now far-tootiny
yellow bikini top, over and around a hapless Ken doll, trapped between her breasts. “I don’t
think you’ll throw this one away!!”
It was, at this point – floored as I was by this last photo – that I decided our correspondence had
gone beyond the point of healthy flirting. Not that any flirting with your girlfriend’s younger
sister should be considered healthy. I had to find the resolve to end it. Though it was tempting
to play along and further my obsessions, my fantasies, she couldn’t be lead to believe that there
would ever be a real relationship between the two of us. I was in college! Older, more mature.
And she was the little sister of my girlfriend. Too young for me. Wasn’t that right? What would
it look like if someone – friends, my mom, Becky, her family – suspected I had the hots for little
Laurie? That poor little Mikey, so small, left to his own devices, had become infatuated with his
girlfriend’s overdeveloped little sister. Pathetic, that’s what they’d think. Pathetic little pervert.
Didn’t want that, did I?
And so I stopped. Stopped replying to her e-mail. Even as I continued to stare at her pictures.
Even as I built and nurtured further fantasies of the two of us. Even as she continued to send
me e-mail; try as I might, I was unable to discard them before reading, and became dismayed,
alarmed, and absolutely spellbound by the further photos. More shots of her with the Ken doll:
held to her bosom lovingly, or covered with kisses, or wrapped in her bra.
After nearly two weeks of unanswered mail, she became bold enough to call my house during
the day when she knew my mother was out at work. Caught off guard, I answered (still just big
enough to manage a normal-size phone) and exchanged pleasantries for a bit. Immediately,
however, I was aroused and pulled up a screen shot of her on my monitor to place a face with
the voice. Nervously explaining away my recent inattention to her e-mail as “just being busy”, I
finally admitted, with sweaty palm and cracking voice, that I didn’t think it was a good idea that
we speak to one another.
Her tone remained bubbly but disappointed. “Oh, why not Mike? I think you’re so cute and
funny. I really like talking to you a lot.” It was at this point that I realized that my hand was
stroking myself through my pants to the sound of her voice. I acquiesced for the moment and
sat back, listening to her talk about me, talk about herself, and talk about Becky.
14
“She tells me about you, y’know. She tells me she doesn’t kiss you anymore, because you’re so
small. Because you’re getting to be like a little doll.” A short, tense silence as I continued to
masturbate, having lowered my pants.
“Uhhh…uh-huh.”
“That must really be hard, huh? Being so small. Being so small and not having a girlfriend to kiss
you anymore.”
“Unhmm – well, Unh-huh.” Oh god, I hoped she couldn’t hear me.
“Would you want me to kiss you? I could kiss you, Mike. I could kiss your little face. I could kiss
your little body…I could kiss you all over.” Jesus. Christ.
“Unnhhh…Nuh-Nuh-No. No L-Laurie. I d-d-don’t thu-think…” I trailed off weakly.
She thought in silence for a moment. “Why, Mike? Are you afraid of me?” Another silent
moment as I neared the point of climax, “Hmmmm?”
Oh god. “I-I h-have to g-go..” With that I dropped the receiver and came in a torrent onto my
chest and stomach, pumping myself furiously as I looked at the picture of her face.
Thereafter, I didn’t receive another e-mail from her, and decided not to answer the phone while
home alone. One evening two weeks later, however, Becky’s mom called and asked me to
attend a little going-away family lunch for Becky. She was leaving for Northwestern early the
next week; the family was taking a road trip to bring her to school. I accepted the invitation, in
part out of duty and friendship for Becky, but also, I think, with nervous anticipation of an
excuse to see Laurie – this time in a controlled environment, a gathering of others.
My mother dropped me off at Becky’s around one o’clock, and was leaving straight from there
to the airport for a business trip. The family was finishing packing the minivan for their roadtrip
to Chicago. Immediately I noticed Laurie’s absence; though certainly for the best in the end, my
heart sank a bit silently.
So, the four of us had a nice little lunch together in the early afternoon, Becky’s mom and dad
polite enough not to dwell on my size so much. I knew her parents liked me, and seemed to
think we’d end up together once I got over my “health issues”. I tended to be vague on details
regarding my diagnosis, but I think her father had an idea as to my condition.
As we were cleaning up (me doing what I could at my now twelve-inch height), Becky’s mother
took me aside to thank me for coming, to thank me for being a good friend to Becky. “And,
honey,” she said, as she was drying the last of the dishes, “we’re headed straight to the
interstate from here. It’s nearly four o’clock and we’re so late already. Laurie said she’d be back
from her doctor’s appointment by now, so she should be home soon – I just spoke to her on the
15
cellphone. She’s not coming with us – she practically begged me to stay home this weekend on
account of cheerleader tryouts. Aren’t those usually after school starts? Anyway, do you mind if
she drives you home? I know she’d want to see you, she’s always liked you so much.”
My heart skipped a beat and began to flutter, my palms sweating. “Uhhh…no, that should be
okay.”
“Good. I’ll tell Becky, though, that our neighbor will give you a ride. I don’t think she trusts
Laurie with you in the car. Being a new driver, and all. She’s so thoughtful of you.”
“Uhhh, sure, whatever.”
And, so, after a brief, friendly goodbye between Becky and myself which ended in a quick kiss
(more, I think, for her parents’ benefit than mine), they left me on the couch watching
television as they set off for their long weekend trip to Chicago. So I waited, absentmindedly
surfing through channels with the family’s absurd remote (why do they make these things so
big?) trying to prepare myself for Laurie’s arrival. How should I behave? What could I expect out
of her? The smartest thing, I figured, was to insist that I needed to get home right away and
keep conversation pleasant and short. What worried – and excited – me was what I would do if
she had her mind made up for something else. She certainly wasn’t rushing home to see her
family off, or to keep me from waiting. I think I sat there, my heart thumping, running through
the possibilities, for nearly an hour before I heard her car pull into the driveway. My throat
went immediately dry as I tried to settle down, to try to look comfortable and relax.
“Hellooo?” she announced as she opened the front door, “Anybody home?” I turned around on
the couch but, being so small, I couldn’t see her as I called out in greeting. Between my voice
being so weak and the volume of the television, I don’t think she heard me. “Mike?” she called
as she walked into the room, “are you in here?” The sound of the TV brought her over.
“Hi there,” I said as she rounded the couch. I sat myself into a confident pose – or, as
confident a pose as one could mange at twelve inches tall.
“Ooooo!” she squealed as her widening eyes caught sight of me and her hand flew to cover
her mouth in surprise. She stifled a giggle and stood erect. “Mike! Look at you!” I tried to keep
myself from ogling her, tried to maintain eye contact, as she bent at the knees into a crouch to
look at me. The sneakers at the end of her long, smooth, golden legs were bright white. A small
pair of faded denim shorts rode tight on the curves of her shapely hips. A loose, white button
down shirt was tied at her midriff, exposing a sliver of flat, tanned abdomen and a brief hint of
cleavage. Below the shirt she had on, it appeared to quick glance, some type of white tank top.
“It’s so nice to see you again!” she chirped, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “Did my
parents leave?”
I answered her casually, describing our pleasant lunch and the plans that she was to drive me
16
home. She seemed not to acknowledge my last statement and asked me if I’d like anything to
drink. Before I could reply, she had stood up and turned away, walking to the kitchen as she
asked “Coke? Iced tea? Apple Juice?”
Her hips rolled and swayed as I called after her “…uhhh, water would be fine.” I hadn’t really
been eating much recently, and didn’t think I could tolerate much more than water. She,
however, made no sign that she had heard me, and began to undo the knot tying her shirt as
she left the room. Crap. What was I in for? She had orchestrated this perfectly, and I didn’t think
my best option was putting my foot down and demanding a ride home. And, who was I trying to
k**? The thought of having some time with this knockout little sister of my girlfriend was
secretly thrilling.
When she returned with two glasses of iced tea, she had completely unbuttoned her shirt,
which now hung open and revealed a white lycra tank top molded around the bulges of her
chest and reaching nearly to her navel. She set the glasses on the table, took the remote from
where it lay beside me, and turned off the television. Looking first down at me, then to the
glasses, she gasped and giggled again. “Oooh! I’m sorry! You’ll never be able to drink all that!”
“Uhh…no,” I replied, “that’s a whole lot of tea.”
“Here,” she said, as she moved to sit beside me, “let me help.” With one motion she planted her
round, firm rear on the cushion next to mine and began to remove her shirt – as if it might
restrain her from the task at hand. I tried to look straight ahead at the drinks but was intent on
her in my peripheral vision. Narrow shoulders back, chest out, she pulled the shirt from her,
demonstrating nicely the shape and size of the breasts below her top. She picked up one drink
from the table, saying, “Now then, let’s give this a try,” and approached me with the huge glass.
“I hope you’re thirsty!” I glanced up quickly at her; she peered down her nose at me over a
mischievous smile.
Back to the drink, I tipped my head back to meet its lip as she tilted it gently toward me. At first
I thought this might work, as I began to gulp the liquid which lapped against my mouth. “There
we go!” she chirped, “How does that taste?” My stomach turned, and quickly I could take no
more. The tea began to overflow around my face and spill down my chest. “Oh no!” she
squealed, pulling the glass from me as she began to giggle again, “look at this!”
I managed to laugh myself but was actually feeling rather humiliated as this luscious teenage
girl began to wipe my face with her discarded shirt. I stole quick glances at the jiggles of soft
flesh through her cleavage as she worked. “There,” she cooed as she finished drying me, “that’s
better. Are you still thirsty?”
“Uhh, no. I’m quite done, thanks.” I tried to smile and laugh off the embarrassment, tried to
look cool.
17
“Okay, well, I’m glad you’re here.” She bundled her shirt into a ball and set it on the couch
beside her. It looked like she had something on her mind. “There’s stuff I wanted to talk to you
about. Can you stay for a little while?”
Say no. Say no. It’s easy. No. I Have to get home. Say it. No no no. “Uhhh…sure. What’s up?”
Idiot.
“Well, it’s about Becky.” Laurie sat demurely on the couch, one lean, coltish leg tucked beneath
her, her hands folded in her lap. This might be innocent after all. I turned to face her, sitting
cross legged indian-style on the cushion. “I don’t think she’s been very nice to you recently,”
she continued thoughtfully, tucking a wave of honey brown hair behind her ear, “when you
need all the support you can get.” Well, this surprisingly sounded like genuine, mature concern.
Did it have another purpose?
I decided to tread carefully, and assured Laurie that I realized Becky had been very busy
recently, she was being very supportive, and that our relationship remained strong. I had every
hope, I said, that we could remain together even as she was away at college.
“Hmmm. Mike,” Laurie pursed her lips and looked down at me, choosing her words carefully,
“Becky’s been seeing another guy.” My brow furrowed. “All summer.” I winced in disbelief. “A
lot.” Uggh. “She had been going out with him a few nights a week. You might know him – he’s
that guy who’s also going to Northwestern this year.”
Yeah, I knew him. Randy. Or was is Ricky? Rudy? Whatever. Some guy in her class.
“She’s been talking to me about him for awhile now, and she didn’t want my parents to
know…’cuz they like you so much and…well, I knew she had plans to tell you but…” But what?
Why was I hearing this from Laurie instead of Becky herself? “She had a letter for you. She was
going to mail it soon, next month, after she got to school.” Laurie paused hesitantly before
continuing, “But I took it. From her bag, this morning. I knew what it was going to say,” she said
sheepishly, “so I opened it.”
“You opened it?” I was a little flabbergasted. “You opened the letter that Becky wrote to me?
Jeez! Did you read it?”
“Yes.”
I was actually not as mad, or upset, as one would expect. I think I had, at this point, just felt so
helpless that I was getting apathetic, seeing my life run without my control by people in the
normal-sized world. “Why wouldn’t she give it to me herself? What did it say?”
“You want to read it?” Her expression was one of girlish concern, but she had another, queer
look on her face.
18
“Uhhh…sure. Do you have it?” I asked. With that she pulled a piece of notebook paper from her
pocket, unfolded it and lay it down on the cushion next to me. I didn’t need to read much to get
the gist of it. Becky was breaking up with me. Saying she met a guy at school, mentioning
nothing of the summer. “Well, that’s that,” I said, as chipper as I could manage, a catch in my
throat. I was a bit upset, sad, I guess. Not only getting dumped by my girlfriend, but also what it
represented. I was shrinking, and slowly losing my life, watching it all drop away. My
relationships. My future. Everything. “Sucks to be me.” I tried to smile.
“I’m soooo, so sorry, Mike. I opened the letter ‘cuz, well, I just thought, I guess, that
this was a crappy way for Becky to break up with you. I thought it would be better if I told you.
If you heard what really happened. If you found out now rather than later.”
I turned my face away from the letter and looked up at Laurie. Her smile was warm and
compassionate, lighting up a face of fine cheekbones and delicate jaw. God, she really was a
beautiful girl. I should be angry, but who can be mad at someone this pretty? Looking away, I
muttered thanks.
“So,” she continued, “this way you can get on with your life. You can forget about Becky. You
can start dating other girls.”
What did she mean by that? I was, at that point, awash with enough self-pity that I had let my
guard down. “Dating other girls? Who would ever want to date me now? I’m a twerp.”
“Come on now, Mike. You’re a great guy. You’re cute and funny and lots of girls want to go out
with you.”
“Yeah? Like who?”
“Well,” she smiled, and batted her long eyelashes coquettishly, “me. I’d want to go out with
you.”
Oh boy. I was on a slippery slope, and had probably said too much already. Yet, my suffering
self-esteem kept me from turning off this k** completely. Part of me – heck, maybe most of me
by now – enjoyed this opportunity to flirt with a pretty girl. As I’ve said, I’m not generally much
of a chick magnet. But, I had to remain careful. “Now, that wouldn’t be fair to Bec-“
“But Becky just dumped you, remember? Forget about Becky,” she shifted her weight and
inched closer, “go out with me.”
“U-uh, Laurie, I c-can’t,” I stammered. She was smiling mischievously again, looking down at me
over the swells of her chest. “You’re…too young. You’re a k**.”
She cocked her head, pouting. “A k**?” she pushed her thin shoulders back, demonstrating the
19
size of her new breasts, asking, “Do I look like a k** to you?”
Held speechless for a moment, to her delight, I could do nothing but take in the view of their
shape from below. Finding my tongue once again, I stuttered in reply “T-th-that’s not what I-I
mean. Y-you’re obviously a v-very beautiful girl, and you sh-should have no problem finding-“
“You think I’m beautiful? Really?” She interrupted, bouncing in her seat excitedly. “What makes
me beautiful, huh?”
Okay, I was in trouble. “W-what do you mean?”
“I mean, what do you like about me? What parts of me are beautiful?” She was getting a bit
giddy now, and more obviously flirty.
“I don’t thin-“
“Oh, c’mon, Mike, c’mon. Tell me!”
“Well, uhh…” Okay, think. You don’t want to sound like a pervert, “I like your…” but you do
want to be nice, give her a little boost, “…lipstick…?”
“My lipstick?” Her eyes opened wide, her smile a little crooked, “My lipstick, huh?” She sat back
a bit and reached into her front pocket, pulling out a silver cylinder, text up its side reading
“Spoiled Brat”. Uncapping the tube, she leaned in once again, her face close to me, and began
to apply the frosty pink, translucent lipstick as she said “let me put on a nice, fresh coat for you,
then.” I watched her silently for a bit, expertly running the stick over her full, moist lips, painting
them with fresh color. I found myself becoming aroused.
She saw me watching her, puckered as if for a plush, glossy kiss, and asked me “How about my
lips? Do you like my lips?”
Wanting to keep my demeanor light, trying to appear relaxed, I shot back quickly in mock
seriousness “Hmm..nah, just the lipstick. The name fits.”
She pouted prettily, looked at the lipstick case and read aloud “Spoiled Br- Ooooh! You jerk!”
She began to giggle, picked up a throw pillow and exclaimed “You’re the brat!” while swinging
the pillow at me. My small body was thrown back, against the arm of the couch. Though
surprised, caught off guard, I was not hurt and laughed along with her. I leaned back against the
armrest. Her eyes glinting and mischievous, she giggled again, “I think YOU should wear it, since
you like it so much!”
Suddenly she was on me, trying to press the lipstick to my face. I half-heartedly fought at her
but was – at my small size – mostly ineffectual. She pushed my flailing hands out of the way
and, still giggling, began to smear lipstick across my mouth. “Shh…shh…stop squirming!” she
20
laughed in mock annoyance. I turned my head this way and that, playfully avoiding her
ministrations, but she took my chin in her hand to steady my struggle. “There we go, that’s
better,” she cooed, as we both quickly calmed down, “now hush.”
I watched her pretty face, her dancing eyes, intent now on her task of carefully applying the
creamy lipstick about my lips. She was gentle, almost meticulous, as, with confident ease, she
covered me with her lipstick. I guess this was a little humiliating, but I was becoming more and
more aroused. Why was I letting her do this? I asked myself. She must be thinking the same
thing.
“Well, now,” she said as she finished, studying my face, “don’t you look pretty!”
“Yeah, thanks,” God, I was so turned on, “but is pink my color?”
She started to giggle again and furrowed he brow teasingly. “I dunno. I think it looks better on
me.” With that, she reached over to the table – allowing me to steal a glance of her full breasts
stretching her top in profile – and grabbed a tissue. Leaning in now even closer, and with the
same care she used in its application, she began to dab and scrub the lipstick off my face like a
mother cleaning a messy c***d. I couldn’t keep my eyes from darting in and out of the dark
cleavage yawning in front of me, or running over the round, silky swells rising from her neckline.
“So, Mike,” she said casually as she lingered, slowly blotting the last of her lipstick from my face,
“what else do you like about me?”
Again my gaze dropped to her wobbling chest for an instant. “You mean…uh…physically?”
“Yes,” she said, feigning exasperation, “physically.”
“Well, I, uh, kinda like your hair.”
“Oh really? My hair?” She sighed, trying to sound annoyed. After a moment of thought, she
quickly changed position on the couch. She was suddenly crouched on her knees, facing me,
hands planted widely on either side of my shoulders on the arm of the couch. I gasped,
shocked, and held my breath as she brought her huge, beautiful face to within inches of mine
and with one smooth, dramatic motion swept the mane of her long, golden brown hair over us.
The world outside was blocked by the lush, thick waves which flowed around me on all sides. All
that remained was her – her hair, the sweet smell of her shampoo, and her huge face beaming
wildly. She must have seen my reaction, surprised as I was with eyes wide and breath shallow,
backed up against the armrest in retreat. Maybe she tasted a bit of fear in me. God, she was big.
I felt trapped like a rat in its hole, and aroused beyond anything I’d felt in my life. Our eyes
were locked; she liked this, suddenly, I could tell.
“My hair, huh?” she teased, “Well, I washed it just for you. Here, have a closer look.” With that,
21
she slowly tossed her head back and forth, running her thick, soft hair across my body in full,
lazy waves. Lost in heady pleasure, I may, at this point, have moaned or sighed – for she
seemed to notice I was enjoying myself, and continued caressing me with her flowing locks for a
long moment.
When our eyes met again hers were alight. She knew she had my full attention, had a sense that
her flirty games were gaining my interest. What a girl with looks like hers can do! She smiled at
me silently for a while, studying me. I did my best to keep her gaze, fighting the urge to turn
away in embarrassment, hoping against hope that my eyes didn’t stray to her chest.
Finally, she spoke again, her voice low. “Now, Mike, what else do you like?” She shifted her
weight slightly forward, towards me. I now had to lean my head back on the armrest to keep
her eyes. Still I was surrounded by her waves of hair, trapped by her downturned face. Her
perfumed shampoo filled the air richly. “It’s okay, we’re all alone. You can tell me.” Her face
moved up, farther away, as she broke my gaze.
Head craned back, I watched the tendons work in her long, graceful neck. “Y-you mean, bbesides
your hair?” I croaked.
“Mmmhmm…”
“Besides your lips – a-and your lipstick?” I struggled to keep my gaze at her throat, aware of the
looming swells of her chest which approached slowly from below.
“Mmmmhmm. Besides that.”
I swallowed hard. She was not going to make this easy. But what was I worried about? She was
right, we were alone, and Becky had dumped me. What would it hurt if we fooled around like
this a little? “W-well,” I stuttered, “y-you have nice, w-well, really…n-nice…legs.”
“Mmmm. Go on.”
I could no longer see her face. Still, she inched up higher, the expanse of her collarbone passing
before me, until her huge breasts hung heavily from her thin frame above my head, stretching
her white top. They filled my vision. I stammered, trying to continue conversation, “…yyeah…your…legs
are…really long. A-and…shapely. It l-looks like you w-work out. Like, a lot.” She
didn’t seem too interested.
“Anything…else?” Her voice called from above. She had me right where she wanted me.
Though gradually acquiescing, my conscience held me near speechless. “Uuh…uuh…” I
stammered, hypnotized by the sight of her, by her seductive air. She was so big, and so close,
threatening to plaster me into the arm of the couch.
22
“How about my boobs, Mike?” Her voice dropped, “Do you like them?” Oh Christ. “Hmmm?”
She shifted slightly, her breasts dropping even nearer to me. She filled my senses
overpoweringly, warm and sweet. My heart beat fast.
Not getting an answer out of me, but sensing my growing arousal, she continued talking.
“They’re getting big, huh? Bigger and bigger and bigger.” A single shimmy of her shoulders sent
a corpulent wave through her flesh. “Do you like big boobs, Mike? Big boobs like…mine?” She
paused, waiting for me.
Unable to resist any longer, I replied softly, almost under my breath, as I gazed into her
cleavage.
“Hmmm? What was that, Mike? I couldn’t hear you.”
My throat caught as I answered, “y-y-yes…” I swallowed dryly once more. “I s-said yes. I-I like bbig
boobs. I like y-your…big…b-big boobs.”
“Really, now,” I could sense her growing excitement as I watched the outlines of her nipples
slowly show themselves, becoming erect under the smooth, white material of her tight lycra
top, “what do you like about them?”
I was nervous, nearly quivering with lust, and had lost use of my logic. “t-they’re…they’re…big.”
Apparently I had lost use of the English language, also.
“Mmmhmmm,” she purred patiently, “they are. They are big.” She was probing me, seeing how
far I would go, what she could do with her body. “What does it make you want to do, when you
look at them?”
“I w-w-w…” my voice trailed off weakly, unable to find words.
“Does it make you want to…touch them?” she asked, lowering herself closer. The creamy skin
of one breast was now nearly against my face. It would just take me raising my head off the
armrest to plant my face against her. I didn’t dare.
“Does it make you want to feel them?” I felt the weight of her breast settle onto my hips,
pressing my member hotly through my pants against my stomach. Oh god, I hoped she couldn’t
feel me. Silently I fought the urge to rut up into her softness.
“You know, Mike, there are a lot of boys who like me. Lot of boys who’d like me to do this to
them, who’d like to be right where you are now.” She gently, slowly, rolled her breast into me.
She must, I thought by now, have felt me hard against her. Still, I resisted, making no move.
“How does that make you feel?” Yes, she felt me, I was sure, for she rolled into me again,
tempting me to respond.
23
I moaned audibly, encouraging her, and she started to press herself down into me, rubbing and
rolling her heavy breast gently across my hips in a slow, undulating rhythm. I could take no
more, my will collapsed; slowly I began to rock my hips up and down, into her firm flesh, taking
her lead. God, if this girl had never been with boys before, she had sure done her research.
“Do you like to look at me the same way they do? The same way the boys at school look at my
body? The way my teachers look down my shirt? Because they’re always looking. Always
staring. It’s like they can’t keep their eyes off me.” She had me subdued with her soft, rolling
breast, and all I could manage was one thought: that she had won. She had her older sister’s
tiny boyfriend alone, all to herself, nearly paralyzed with lust for her ripening body and dryhumping
her big, womanly tit.
“L-L-Laurie…” I moaned, “we s-should stop…” But my actions belied my words as I continued
rubbing myself against her.
“Oh, why, Mike? It doesn’t look like you want to stop,” she backed away from me an inch,
removing her weight from my body. I whined pathetically, and watched as she lowered the
strap of her tank top off her left shoulder.
“Don’t you want to see more? Don’t you want to see more of me?” Her hand drew the strap
midway down her arm, exposing new swells of flesh. “Aren’t you like all the rest? Don’t you
want to see my big new boobs? My big, big boobs…” She peeled her top down farther, nearly
reaching her nipple. “Don’t you want to see if you can fit in here? Hmm? Fit in my cleavage? Fit
between my breasts?” She moved up the couch another fraction – if she lowered herself back
down again her breast would mash my face. “Hmmm, little man? Don’t you want to do that?
You little, little man…”
She pondered me from above, comparing my tiny head to the size of her huge breast. “Oh god,”
she said, almost in amazement herself, “you’re so small. You’re so, so small.” I felt dwarfed
already; she was making me feel…fragile. “How did you get so tiny?”
Somehow I had found my tongue again, and was able to speak, weakly. “…it’s a-a virus, I hhave,”
I stuttered, “..t-the Blake virus.”
Instantly I could feel her freeze, back away from me another inch. “What? Mike, what did you
say?”
Still delirious, so close to this girl, I tried to gather myself and replied “the Blake virus, the thing
that’s shrinking me.” Not really the full story – it was the treatments I was receiving, as far as I
understood, that were making me smaller. “W-why?”
Suddenly she sat up, back on her knees on the couch, pulling her strap back onto her shoulder
and staring down at me wide-eyed in what looked to be surprise. “Omigod! Oh. My. God!”
24
“What? What?” I asked, pulling myself together a bit more, “What’s up?”
“That’s the same thing I have! The Blake virus!” She tucked her hair behind her ear, “This is so
weird!”
I agreed and, looking up at her, noticed her lost a bit in thought. I must not have had a real
complete understanding of this thing; how could it be causing such widely different reactions in
Laurie and myself? Were we receiving different treatments? Did we have different forms of the
virus? And, wasn’t it only men who contracted the disease? (or, wait, didn’t I hear that there
some woman involved in the original outbreak, years ago? I dunno. I never really paid
attention.)
As we both settled down, we started to discuss our individual experiences. We were receiving,
in some respects, similar treatments. In fact, come to find out, we both had the same doctor in
the city. Makes sense – how many viral endocrinologists can there be, anyway?
Laurie, for her part, seemed to know as much or more about the disease than I did. Maybe
comes from having a microbiologist as a dad. I, for example, hadn’t known that there were
actually different forms of the virus. I guess I had the “male” strain, and was receiving injections
of the “attenuated” (or, “weakened”, Laurie told me) form of the “female” virus. It keeps me
from going into a c*** – which is good, I guess – but also shrinks me along the way.
Laurie’s treatments, on the other hand, were of an attenuated “male” virus which kept her
from getting sick but amplified her physical development. She said women – those past puberty
– fought the disease less dramatically (and got less press than the handful of shrinking men
you’d hear about in the news). Her case, in fact, was slowly going into remission, according to
the doctor. He hoped she could stop her treatments over the next few months. She almost
sounded disappointed.
Me? I hadn’t been told of any drop in my viral load since I was diagnosed, and had begun to
come to terms with the fact that this thing could at some point be the end of me. Laurie
seemed very distraught – close to tears, actually – over this idea, and it took all my energy to
appear upbeat and positive until she became less upset. I’m a bit embarrassed to admit,
though, that I stole many quick glances of her flushed, heaving chest as she calmed herself
down.
Finally, to change the topic in some respects, I broached another issue. “Did you read the stuff
the doctor gave you about, uhhh, the…warnings?”
“You mean, like, how the virus is transmitted?”
“Yeah.”
25
“Which is why you and Becky never had, well, never really had sex?”
Jeez. How much did Becky tell her? A little loose-lipped, I guess. “Uh, yeah.”
“And why they wanted me to stay away from having a real boyfriend, since they’re not too sure
how girls give it to boys. Except, of course, for…” she trailed off.
I flushed a bit, “you mean, uh, have you been…?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve been…” I felt embarrassed to say it, “…lactating?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“Huh,” I concluded matter-of-factly, trying to act clinical, curious, when really what I was
becoming more and more aroused, knowing that the big, firm breasts of the young girl in front
of me were swollen with milk. In fact, I think I felt my mouth slowly begin to water, my stomach
roll in hunger. Why was that? “How..uh..does that feel?” I asked awkwardly, feeling myself
redden.
“Well, I don’t really ever have to – y’know – milk myself. But sometimes they feel really full, and
sorta ache. Like, right now, in fact,” she pressed on one heavy breast from below
absentmindedly. I tried to keep from noticing. “The doctors take samples every once in a while
at the clinic with a pump-thingy.”
What would they use these samples for? To check her viral count? To use in treatment
for…others? I had to catch myself from running through the possible scenarios. So, feeling a bit
overwhelmed by the conversation and confused by the implications, I suggested we call it an
evening (somehow it had found its way past six o’clock). My libido was far enough under
control, my lust far enough on the back burner, that I was able to find the resolve to say
goodbye for the time being. I should run over things in my head for a while.
“Aww,” Laurie sounded disappointed, “I thought you could stay for dinner.”
“Uhh, well,” I found my resolve a little more fragile than I thought, “I should…”
“C’mon. What else are you going to do? Your mom’s away all weekend. I’ll make us something
nice.” Yikes. She sure had this planned out.
“Well, uh, I really haven’t been eating since I got sick…” It was true. Since my diagnosis I’d been
eating less and less. In fact, the iced tea I drank earlier was the closest thing to carbohydrates I’d
had for several days. The sugar in it, in fact, had unsettled my stomach. My mother kept
insisting I try to eat but my body wasn’t taking the hint or allowing me to keep anything of
26
substance down. The thought of dinner really didn’t appeal to me.
“So, alright, will you sit with me while I eat? I’m really hungry.”
“Uhhh…I shou-“
“Oh, Mike, come on. And then we can watch movies afterwards. It’ll be fun.”
Crap. I felt myself weaken with the thought of spending the evening with this girl. She sounded,
at this point, innocent enough. Maybe knowing that we both had the same condition, that
intimacy between us could actually do us harm, had cooled her thoughts for me. And – if I
stayed – it would give me the chance to look at her body in those tight clothes she was wearing.
Nobody’s around, what’s the harm? “Alright,” oh my, I’m an idiot, “what are you cooking?”
She was happy that I had agreed and, after I insisted I walk across the house myself, helped me
up to a kitchen stool so I could watch her as she prepared a serving of macaroni and cheese.
And, after she ate that, another. Our conversation over dinner were pleasantly playful
“Wow,” I remarked as she rifled through leftovers in the refrigerator, “doesn’t your family feed
you?”
“Stop it! I’m just really hungry!” She’d been eating like this, she explained, ever since she
started treatments. “I’m a growing girl these days!”
As evening began to set in, we retired once again to the sofa in the living room. I sat on the
front edge of the couch as Laurie read me the options of several movies the family had on DVD
– mostly sappy, romantic comedies. To tell the truth, I don’t quite recall what we ended up
seeing. What I do remember is, through the course of the movie, watching her as she gradually,
inch by inch, reclined to her side from her sitting position on a far cushion, until she was
stretched out on the sofa behind me. Pretending to be intent on the film, I was keenly aware of
her giant presence behind me in the dark room.
After the first movie, I boneheadedly agreed to another B-grade teen romance, hypnotized to
arousal by the closeness of her body. I was secretly thrilled when, after changing disks, she
climbed back onto the couch behind me and urged me to lie back and get comfortable. Did she
mean back against her? Too timid, I reclined onto my side, also, next to her, facing the
television. We were not in contact of any sort, but I could feel the warmth of her breasts so
close behind me. As the movie dragged on, I felt her shift slowly towards me, and stiffened as
her soft chest brushed my back. Slowly, closer and closer she came, tentatively rubbing her
breasts more firmly into me, until her hand came over my side and rested against my chest,
bringing me into a light embrace.
If ever again I were to resist her, this was where I had to make my stand. But, all ideas of
resistance were squelched as she gently began to rub my chest. We remained silent, both
27
pretending to watch the movie but intent, rather, on the subtle signals between our two bodies.
I, for one, was entranced, lost in her gentle hold, luxuriating in the softness of her flesh, waiting
for her next move.
The minutes wore on, and her hand moved slowly up my body, until it began to trace the lines
of my throat, my jaw with tender caresses. I tilted back my head, encouraging her advances for
the first time, and felt her fingers whisper across my cheeks and caress my face. Gradually a
finger came to rest on my lips, rubbing them softly. Instinctively, my mouth parted slightly, a
fraction, and she explored my bottom lip with her fingertip, teasing it with a single, painted nail.
I felt her breath catch behind me as – once again acting on instinct – I returned her affection by
running my lower lip against her finger.
Now more confident, her ministrations continued as her fingertip traced my lips, parting them,
attempting to work itself slowly into my mouth. Weakly, I began to kiss at it and, finally, to suck.
But it was so big, her fingertip, and could not enter my mouth any further. Slowly, she withdrew
it, only to run her other fingers, one by one, across my lips until her little finger rested inside my
lips.
She allowed me to suck at it, opening my jaws wider, and draw it into my mouth. My god, what
was I doing? Sucking on the finger of this giant girl, encouraging her, allowing myself to be
seduced. I sucked at its tip as well I could, for it filled a good part of my mouth, and closed my
eyes. Aware only dimly, now, of the audio from the television, I found myself fantasizing that it
was not a finger in my mouth. I imagined suckling at her breast, her full, ripe, teenage breast.
It was too late now, I knew, to turn back. There was no chance of feigning disinterest in this girl.
Laurie must now be realizing the desire and lust I secretly held for her, for her body. And so I
sucked and kissed her finger more fervently, silently showing her, I hoped, how much I wanted
her.
“Mike,” I heard her whisper, regardless of the movie in the background, “you didn’t throw away
those pictures I sent, did you?” She paused, so close to me, seeing if I would attempt an answer.
None was to be had. “Do you get an…an erection…when you look at them?” Again she paused,
gauging my reaction. I shut my eyes tighter, trying to escape the moment, as I felt myself flush
red. “Do you touch yourself when you look at them?”
Knowing she was to get no spoken answer from me in my shame, she withdrew her finger from
my mouth and used her hand to gently roll me onto my back. Our eyes met, hers gazing down
at me curious and alive as she continued “Mike, do you jerk off thinking about me?” I stared up
at her wordlessly, too ashamed, too timid to respond, Her bright, wide eyes studied me.
“Hmmm? Do you?”
My silence was her answer. I watched her fight back a thin, pleased smile. She cocked her head
and wet her glossy lips, running her eyes over my shrunken body, her fingers over my chest.
28
“Mike,” she asked softly, “do you want to kiss?”
My heart skipped, I paused to draw air. My answer sounded nearly like a sob. “y-yes.”
She smiled sweetly, her eyes fluttering closed as her head descended on me I held my breath as
I watched her giant, pink lips pucker, then pout moistly as they closed in to fill my vision.
Suddenly I was both nervous and frightened, a small a****l backed into a corner. I tried to back
away from her huge, approaching mouth. But, before I could move, I was caught, her soft lips
on my face, trapping me. Her mouth covered mine, engulfed it, and immediately I was
hypnotized, awash with the pleasure of her plush lips covering my face with languid kisses.
Recovering from my shock, I responded hotly, smacking and finally mouthing at her lips as best I
could. But this was her moment, she could do with me as she wished, and I anxiously sensed
her young passion building. Her lips controlled my mouth, my cheeks, my face, wetly turning my
head to and fro at her whim. Soft moans rumbled through her and filled my ears. She kissed and
sucked on me, gently licking over my closed lids, my tender throat with her firm tongue. My
face became slick with her juices. Soon her tongue lapped its way across my face and attempted
to force itself through my parted lips, into my mouth. Strongly she pushed into me, again and
again, but I was too small. She sighed, plaintively, her breath trembling. I watched her mouth
widen, her chin tilt as she moved in closer and drew my entire face between her lips.
I squirmed in a mix of fear and delight as she sucked at my face, engulfing me between pillowy
lips. I kissed at her tongue, licking it as it firmly massaged my face. She was opening wider, now,
gradually working more and more of my head into her mouth. Her heady moans were rolling
thunder to me, shaking me to my core. We made out heatedly for some time, her breath hot
and quick around me as she gradually undid the snaps of my shirt. I drew my breath directly
from her hot, steamy mouth.
Allowing me fresh air, her lips occasionally drifted to my chest, now bare, and tentatively
brushed my stomach. My loins clenched and shook to her feathery kisses across my abdomen. I
groaned as my already engorged manhood twitched in spasm, growing harder still.
“Oh…Ohhh…Laurie, Laurie…,” I breathed, fighting and struggling with myself, “we…we
shouldn’t…”
“Why?” she asked, kissing me again, her lips fluttering even lower down my belly, “Why, Mike?
Why not?” She raised back away from me, looking deep into my eyes with an intense gaze, her
plump lower lip bit between her teeth. Her cheeks were flushed, her chest heaving, legs and
hips undulating. It was almost alarming, how turned on this girl was. Alarming because I was
basically at her mercy. Alarming because I was on fire myself, not thinking clearly.
I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. She smiled, noticing my gaze drift down her body. She was
watching me watch her. God, I thought, look at those tits. She’s so…fucking…beautiful.
29
“What is it, Mike? Do you want these?” A gasp escaped my lips as she drew a great breath and
dropped a shoulder towards me, her tight top stretching to mold itself around the shape of her
swollen breasts. She knew my weakness, obviously, for her big, maidenly bosom, now
suspended above my head. I was staring straight up at one massive breast, straight at its nipple
now visible through the white elastic fabric of her top.
Her hand slid under my back to support my upper body, and she adjusted my position. “Is this
what you want?” she asked. I watched, awestruck, as she slowly lowered her giant breast
towards me.
“..oh, god…Laurie…” I moaned weakly. Still she came nearer. My hands drew up near my face, a
protective reflex.
“Shhhh…just relax. We have all weekend. All alone. Just you and me. Lie back…just lie back and
relax.” And then she was on top of me, her soft, heavy flesh pinning me from my waist up into
the cradle of her hand. My loins strained and bucked, not quite reaching the underside of her
firm breast. I moaned again, lost in desire. “Ooooh…you like that, huh? Does that feel nice?”
she purred as she adjusted me again, rubbing herself across me in a muscular wave of pleasure.
She heard me moan again and continued to shift her weight back and forth across my body,
massaging me with her breast. The smooth fabric of her top slid over my skin, taut and slippery
and elastic.
“mmmmm….oooooo…” I heard her cooing to me from above. My hands, though pinned near
my shoulders, began to rub and grope and squeeze at her softness. “They’re big, huh?” she
asked as she pulled me more firmly into her; I felt her flesh spill around me.
I moaned in assent and began to kiss her breast through the pliant skin of her tight white tank
top. She shifted me against her breast, sliding my head across lycra, until I felt the nub of her
nipple through her clothes against my cheek. I kissed her more ardently, mouthing at her top
and tentatively sucking at her flesh beneath. She inched me closer to her covered nipple, using
one finger to delicately tip my face towards it. I looked at it, now so close. My mind swam with
conflict. How I wanted to kiss it, to take it into my mouth, to suck. But I knew her breast was
heavy with milk, milk swimming with live virus that would – like my treatments, I guessed –
shrink me slowly further. But my hunger for her was a driving, primal force.
She nudged me closer to her, rubbing her nipple against my mouth, through the thick fabric.
What was she doing? She, obviously, must also know what might happen to me if I took milk
from her. Was she teasing me? Seemingly heedless, I kissed at her swollen nipple and squeezed
it with my lips. I mouthed at her engorged nub and, as best I could, took it into me.
Perhaps she was testing me, challenging me: could I resist her? Was I willing to shrink further
just for the taste of her, the feel of her nipple in my mouth, her flesh to my face? I started to
suck at her through her top, playing our dangerous game. I was still safe like this. I wouldn’t do
30
this to her bare breast, would I? She pushed my head gently into her softness as I continued to
dry-nurse through her clothes.
“Mike?” she asked softly, “What are you doing?” She obviously expected no reply, still holding
my head firmly to her breast. “You know what can happen if…if we go farther?” That was it. She
was experimenting, testing me.
But, my head was reeling; I was lost in her enveloping embrace and had begun to lose further
touch with reality. I imagined what it would be like to shrink, a little, right here, held against her
breast. What would be the harm? It would happen eventually, somewhere, sometime. At my
next treatment. Why not enjoy it? Why delay the inevitable? Right?
Despite my confused justifications, I nonetheless felt my stomach turn in both horror and
excitement as I noticed her drop the strap of her top down her shoulder to her arm. I felt the
elastic fabric peel itself away from her skin above me, higher on her chest, exposing creamy
flesh.
“Do you know what I can do to you, Mike?” she continued, “Do you? Do you know what I could
do to your body?” I balked, unsure of myself. Was she bluffing? Or would she continue, would
she actually cause me to shrink?
Incredibly, I continued to suck at her, encouraging her. What was I getting myself into? I had
ceased, perhaps, to care. My need was overpowering. “Mike, you’re still doing this? Don’t you
care?” she whispered, “Or, can’t you help yourself? You couldn’t stop if you wanted to, could
you?”
But you don’t want to, she seemed to be telling me silently, you want to shrink more. With me.
You want to be tiny. With me. You want to be a tiny little thing. In my hands, between my
breasts. It was almost as if I heard her voice in my head. That’s what you want, isn’t it? I nuzzled
into her, pawing, squeezing, sucking at her flesh as I moaned in assent.
“Mike,” she asked aloud, “do you want to go upstairs?” I paused, knowing the implications. She
meant to take me to her bed, where she would make it happen. Feeling me freeze, sensing my
apprehension, she drew me away and looked deep into me. She fought back a faint smile. My
face was tight with emotion, my body quivered, flesh crawling with fear and desire. Her eyes
were brown, liquid pools, wide and alive, searching for my answer.
“…uuuhhh…y-yeah…” I said, wilting, “…sure…”
She kissed me full on the face, obviously trying to contain her heady sense of thrill, and – after
asking my permission – lifted me in her hands and carried me gingerly across the living room, up
the stairs and into her bed.
She laid me down at the head of the bed, propped me against a pillow and sat on the mattress’
31
edge as she eased me out of my shirt, which had already been hanging open. Night having fallen
hours ago, the room was half lit through the open door to the hallway.
“Comfy?” she asked playfully, peering down at me in the shadowy light. I nodded. She ran a
fingernail down my chest. “Good. I’m going to go change, okay?” I nodded again and watched
her stand, walk across the room to her dresser, remove something from an upper drawer, and
disappear into her bathroom.
I waited, laying on her downy white comforter, and noticed a small pile of laundry on the
nightstand to my left. Was that a bra atop it? It looked so big. What would its tag read? I didn’t
dare move to investigate, but held fast, motionless.
As she changed behind the closed door, my mind raced and manhood quivered as I anticipated
the coming moments, hours. The time passed in silence, the minutes drifting by one by one,
until I began to have second thoughts. What was I doing? I was risking everything: my
relationships with Becky, my friends, my family – not to mention my health, maybe my life – by
being with this girl. Was I this resigned to my eventual end, this fatalistic, to actually continue
here tonight? And, perhaps, she was feeling doubt also, behind the closed door. She had
certainly been in there longer than a change of clothes required. Likely that was it. I drew a
deep breath, acknowledging a gnawing disappointment, as I heard the doorknob click.
All ideas of a changed mind on her part quickly dissolved as I, with slacken jaw, watched her
slowly emerge from the bathroom. Covered only in a powder blue slip of a negligee, her long
legs and womanly curves sauntered their way to slowly, purposefully, close the door to the
hallway, sinking us into darkness and sealing off the world outside.
Though my eyes adjusted quickly – the moon as nearly full and bathed the room in pearly blue –
she was on the bed before I knew. Kneeling at its foot, she faced me on the bed in silence. The
moonlight streamed in the window and fell perfectly across her body, allowing me to drink in
the sight of her. Her long hair was piled atop her head, stray strands falling enticingly down to
her graceful neck. She had done her makeup anew; long think eyelashes batted as she gazed
down at me with a lovely smile through moist, opalescent lips.
The satin fabric of her lingerie fell about her round hips and rose to cover tautly the swells of
her chest. Cut low, it revealed the top half of her firm, round breasts and the deep cleavage
between. In the moonlight her perfect flesh was more smooth, polished marble or alabaster
than human skin.
She watched me from above, feeling my eyes roam over her as she crossed her arms behind her
back, straightening her shoulders with a slow, deep breath. Pushing her chest forward in a
proud display of her firm, young body, she smiled as she looked down at her own powerful
curves.
32
“y-you look beautiful, Laurie,” I croaked, unable to help myself, “l-like an angel.”
“Thank you,” she replied, her voice hushed, “I feel beautiful. I feel more beautiful every day.”
She turned her shoulders gradually to one side, then the other, showing her full breasts in
profile. “And I don’t want that feeling to stop. I don’t want to stop the treatments. I don’t want
my body to stop changing.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, “Do you? Do you want me to
stop?
“n-no…I like it…I l-like the way you look. You’re…y-you’re gorgeous.” She remained quiet, her
eyes twinkling. I was getting more and more aroused, admitting my attraction to this girl,
stroking her vanity. I think I liked making her feel powerful, wanted to show her, make her
realize, the effect she could hold over men. “You’re the most b-beautiful girl I’ve e-ever been
with. The most beautiful girl I-I’ve ever seen.” God, it was true, I thought, as I watched her
virtually glow, swelling with pride above me.
“Mmmmhmmm…” she murmured, as she moved her hands to her long, bare, muscular thighs,
gathering her breasts, soft and heavy, between her arms. She leaned in, slightly, towards me.
“…go on.”
I goggled once again at their size, shadowed rondure under smooth satin in the dim light. I
stammered, nearly speechless, trying to continue. “I-I-I c-can’t k-keep my e-eyes off, y-you,
Laurie. You’re j-just so…perfect. So…beautiful…” My throat was dry.
“So, then, Mike,” she asked, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, “will you be my
boyfriend?” I was dazed, hypnotized, lost in the moment, and would have done anything she
asked to be close to that body. Still I hesitated in silence. “C’mon, Mike,” she implored sweetly,
a coquettish pout on her lips, “forget about Becky.” She leaned further forward, her hands now
on the bed, bracing her weight, “Cuz you can have me.” I felt once more like a trapped a****l;
she was coming in for the kill.
Mesmerized by her yawning cleavage, I nodded dumbly in mute acquiescence. She raised a
hand, bringing a fingertip to my nose. “Is that a yes?” she mused, holding it there teasingly,
“Hmm? Is that a yes?” Languidly she ran a nail down over my chest, my stomach, resting finally
on the waistband of my makeshift pants to trace small circles on my lower belly.
Her ministrations were stoking a fire in my gut; I was shivering with desire. I gurgled and answer
“y-y-yeah…s-sure, Laurie.” Her thin smile widened across her pretty face, eyelashes batted over
eyes that hovered about my loins. She eased her fingernail under my waistband, and tugged
down on its elastic, exposing my hip on one side. “L-Laurie…” I asked weakly, “w-what are you
d-doing?”
“Oh, c’mon, Mike,” she said breathily, “I want to try…” She trailed off, looking me over
33
curiously, intent on the bulge shifting and pulsing in my thin pants.
“B-but you know w-what my…m-my…stuff…could do..t-to you?” I halfheartedly reasoned, “I-it
could be d-dangerous…”
“Mmmhmmm…” Her fingernail ran its way up and down my hip, tickling my arousal.
“I-it would b-be like g-getting another treatment, r-right?” I continued.
She paused for a second, and then answered, “Mmmmhmmm…”
“And you j-just had a treatment today, right?” I wanted to sound concerned for her health.
“Mmmmhmmm…” She pushed down the waistband of my pants another fraction.
“S-so…we have to b-be…c-careful…” She remained quiet; was she really listening? “…right?”
Her fingertip curled its way under the elastic of my pants, brushing its nail against my stiff shaft.
I gasped in a reflex of pleasure. Her eyes flickered and widened, meeting mine. She was curious,
experimenting, measuring my reaction. She traced the length of me with her fingernail, sending
shudders up my spine.
My eyes fluttered, half closed, as she delicately tickled and stroked up and down with her
painted nail. Through heavy lids, I kept her smiling gaze. I was sinking, as if in sweet molasses,
into a living fantasy, instinctively rutting, now, against her fingertip.
“Mike,” she whispered, her mouth parted and drawing my attention to her wet, glossy lips as
she toyed with my member, “You like my lipstick?” She watched my face intently, and smiled
mischievously. I knew what she was implying. I closed my eyes and moaned, astounded in my
own lust, almost in disbelief. I felt her long fingers tugging at my pants, drawing them down.
“Do you really, really like it?” In reflex, my hands shot to my waistband, grabbing at its sides.
“It’s so wet, so shiny, so slippery…”
“n-n-no…n-no,” I argued weakly, “L-Laurie, we c-can’t..”
“Shhh…shhh…” I heard her hushing me from above, “let me see…” Easily she overcame my
meager struggle and lowered my pants below my knees. Though my eyes were clamped shut, I
could feel her gaze on my swollen, twitching member, stiff and hot against my belly.
“Ooooh…it’s so little!” she exclaimed softly, “and so hard! And look at you – you’re shaking.”
I moaned again, tossing my head to the side, and protested “n-n-nooo..”
I felt her approach, her voice so close to me as she asked “Why not, Mike? Don’t you like me?
Don’t you want me to be taller? Don’t you want my boobs to be even bigger?” My breath came
in shallow pants and gasps as she rubbed my crotch gently. “Don’t you want a blow job?” I felt
34
her huge, warm lips on my stomach and then, in an instant, she had sucked my manhood fully
into her mouth.
I groaned, my back arching in a spasmic fit as my hands twisted into the pillow supporting me.
My eyes shot open, my vision swimming in the sea of her soft hair piled above me. Suddenly I
was lost in her wetness, her mouth slurping and sucking, her tongue running itself thickly under
my swollen sac, over my stiff shaft. She was huge around me, enveloping me completely.
Slowly her lips fell into a rhythm, drawing themselves over and down my erection as my hips
slid and bucked to meet them. I was so small to her but never did she let me slide from her
mouth. Rather, she seemed to pull me deeper, further into her with each stroke. She would
consume me, I felt, if she could. And this girl had never done this before? I imagined her in the
backseats of cars, late at night, pinning the boys below her, seeing what her mouth could do to
them.
Oh, how I struggled with myself, lost in the full wetness of her moist, glossy lips, her warm
mouth, wanting like nothing else to come, to release myself into her throat. But what would it
do? What would happen to her? She could become more sick, receiving my active virus rather
than the attenuated form in the vaccine. She could fall ill, even die.
Or she could grow, grow taller, more voluptuous, more beautiful. This, I knew, was what she
hoped for. And the thought took hold of me, now, for I closed my eyes again and pictured her
body, wanting nothing more than to see her become everything she dreamed.
“oh god…” I moaned, between my whimpers and whines, “Laurie…you’re so beautiful…” My sex
ached and quivered in her mouth, my orgasm building beyond my control, “and s-so…so…big.
So fucking b-big..” I was close now, on the edge of release, and could hold back no longer,
“…like a-a…like a goddess.”
Unnh. I burst inside her, dumping load upon load of hot fluid into her wetness. I felt as if I could
fill her mouth but – in reality, I’m sure – I produced little more than a thimble’s worth. Still she
sucked me hungrily, drawing all she could from my organ as I luxuriated in the moment.
Though the orgasm stretched for longer than any other I had known, my pulses eventually
began to slow, and then stop, and I opened my eyes. I flushed in shame. What had I done?
I watched her slowly lift her head from between my shrunken legs and tilt her face to meet
mine. Her eyes were wide and gleamed wildly, immediately filling me with apprehension.
Something has changed, I thought, and was shocked as I swore I saw her head nod in wordless
agreement. She ran her tongue over her lips, as if to collect every last bit of me, and smiled. Her
intense gaze was smothering, making my skin crawl, my body squirm.
Seeing my reaction, she giggled, cooing “ooooh…don’t be afraid, Mike,” and eased away from
35
me, settling to sit on her knees. The fabric around her nipples was stained, I noticed, wet in a
dark patch. Was that…her milk? “Oh, I know,” she tittered, palms jumping to cover her breasts
in modesty, “that happens a lot. When I think of you.” Still she watched me, my body tiny and
naked and spent, prone on the bed below her. She giggled again, and then gasped, as if
suddenly overcome, and closed her eyes.
And then I heard it. Faintly, at first, but then more urgent. The ripping. The tearing. The sound
of fabric being rent, of stitches popping, one after another. Her clothes. The seams of her satin
negligee were being torn, splitting down it right side. Her eyes fluttered open as she looked
down at her body. My mouth gaped, my eyes goggled in wonder as I realized it – she was
growing. Right before my eyes.
“Oh, Mike, watch,” she said, her voice a low purr, “I’m getting bigger.” She smiled as I watched
the hem of satin crawl up her side, exposing her round hip. Her thighs swelled, lengthened. Still
her nightclothes tore as her chest burgeoned beneath her hands, her figure blooming and
ripening in soft swells below it fabric. Her lovely face, bathed in moonlight, was both beatific
and triumphant, her smile more and more breathtaking with her ascending beauty.
“Watch this,” she commanded as her left hand went across her chest to her right breast and,
with one motion and one great breath, she arched her back, looped her right arm through one
thin strap, and tore through the last of her negligee’s seam. Split, now, down one side, only hr
arm kept its fabric aloft and covering her breasts.
“Mike,” she said, her chest heaving with every breath, “look at me. Look how big I’ve gotten.”
It was true. My virus – much amplified over what she typically received in treatments – had
changed her dramatically. Though hard to judge from our current positions and my reduced
height, she must have grown several inches. Probably more. And her curves, though luscious
before, were now beyond my power of words or description. Breasts heavy and ripe and full
swelled beneath the liquid tatters of her negligee. Shoulders, though still thin and delicate, were
set squarely with confidence. Above them was her mound of lustrous hair, elegantly piled high
on her head to display a neck long and graceful. Her smiling face, though, was perhaps where I
noticed the greatest change.
Gone were any last traces of baby fat or cute girlishness. She had, it seemed, in these few
moments blossomed from a girl on the verge of becoming a woman into..this, this living
perfection of human beauty. Was I hypnotized, dreaming? For my delirious mind could not
comprehend the change, that this absolutely gorgeous woman, this heavenly being, was sixteen
year-old Laurie. With eyes so big and deep, features delicately chiseled and perfect, smile
radiant. I was spellbound, in awe, intent on every subtle detail and expression on her face.
Unnerved, almost, by my rapt attention, my unblinking stare, she shifted her weight on her
hips, tucked a loose strand of hair behind one ear, and bit her lower lip. “Mike,” she asked in a
36
whisper, noticing anew the frailty, the weakness of my small body, “do you still want to do
this?”
I drew a rattling breath, and felt her watch my eyes drift down from her face, over her neck,
down to where her arm held her torn slip over her chest. My heart fluttered. “…y-yes…” I
uttered weakly, “…please.”
I knew fully what she could do to me, now, seeing what I had done to her. But I was without any
further regard for my health, my future, my life. This could be the end of me, I thought, and I
didn’t care. Hypnotized, enfeebled by her beauty and delirious from the virus, I would give
anything to be close to her. But I was afraid, fearful.
She sensed this, I knew, and was ripe with compassion. With her gentle smile soothing me, she
whispered “Okay, my little man, here we go…”
Drawing the satin fabric slowly away from her chest and dropping it to the side, she watched
the moonlight fall across her bare, round breasts and smiled proudly. Agape from far below, my
jaw dropped and I moaned in awe as she revealed them to me. Two huge, heavy mountains of
smooth, creamy flesh dropped from her chest, topped by pert, firm nipples damp with their
own milk. I squirmed, overcome by the sight, and had to shut my eyes for a moment to clear my
vision. Jesus Christ, She’s huge, I thought, as my eyes refocused, absolutely huge.
Laurie brought a hand below one swollen breast and, hefting it first to test its impressive
weight, ran a finger across her nipple to collect the creamy white fluid suspended from it.
Several drops on her fingertip, she cocked her head to the side and brought the milk to me.
Hovering gravidly before my face, threatening to fall from her finger in a heavy drop, the thick
milk assaulted my senses. I could smell its florid sweetness, taste its warm comfort, already feel
its creamy flow in my throat.
“Here, Mike,” she offered, “have a taste.” She lowered her fingertip to me, the drop touching
my mouth and quickly flowing through my lips, over my tongue.
I drew back, startled, this drop nearly a mouthful for me, feeling it pass down my throat. Its
heavy flavor lingered in my mouth thickly; never before had I tasted anything so sweet and
lovely, like honeyed cream. Immediately I craved more, even as I felt it settle into my stomach
and twist its way into me. Eerily I sensed its warmth spread through me, to every cell and
nerve, taking hold. The virus, newly active already, changing me.
When I looked up at her again, it was as if through new eyes. The world around me was
shadowed, covered in a misty veil. Everything looked out of focus. Everything, that is, except
her. She shone through the haze, glowing clearly with her own light, looking more beautiful to
me than ever. I was drawn to her with unnatural yearning.
37
As my eyes fell to her breasts, I gasped. They called to me, rousing an unhealthy hunger from
my very core. I could sense the rolling weight of her milk within them and wanted it – now. My
arms rose from my sides and sought out pleadingly for her. I whined pitifully.
“Oooooh…there we go,” she purred, “now we’re ready. Come here, little guy. Come to mama.”
My tiny body quivered with delight as her hands reached down for me, her arms squeezing her
magnificent breasts together. Picking me up, cradled in her hands, she brought me to her
breast.
Gazing down lovingly at me like a young mother to an infant, she cooed and murmured softly to
me as she gently adjusted my position. “Now, Mike, be a good baby,” she said playfully as she
presented her firm, pink nipple to me, sliding across my cheek in one rolling motion. I could
smell her milk about it, feel its undulating warmth below her skin. “Be a good baby and make
mommy proud,” she teasingly whispered, seeming to enjoy playing the role of the nursing
mother.
She turned my head slightly, and pressed my face into her. Instinctively my mouth widened as
her erect nipple pushed its way through my lips and against my tongue. I took a breath, one last
breath, and began to suck. “Good boy,” I heard her from above, “good little baby. Now, here
comes mommy…”
And then I felt it. In one great rush, from deep within her, she let down her milk. Hugging me
tightly to her, she fed her milk down into my waiting throat as I mouthed hungrily at her nipple.
Thick and rich, it flowed into me as I worked her breast with abandon. It eased its way into
every tissue of my body, filling every fiber with new, unholy life.
The virus, long dormant, was alive and making up for lost time. With a haunted, sinking feeling I
felt my world drop out from under me. Wracked, suddenly, with a deep pain, I drew away and
cried out weakly. “Shhhh…shhhh…” she hushed and comforted me from above, “let it happen.
Just let it go.” Her voice was a soothing balm as she continued, “Don’t fight it, let yourself go.”
I had begun to shrink, like never before, actually able to feel my sinews and muscles strain
against bone. Organs and viscera stretched and pulled as my body began to rearrange itself. But
her voice eased my pain, filling my ears with comfort, as she drew my head back to her breast.
Once again I began to nurse, to suckle at the breast of this young girl as my body slowly
dwindled. Nuzzling into her softness, all unpleasant thoughts left me. Her warmth surrounded
me, filled me. I was losing myself in her.
“Mike,” she asked, her voice low, “can you hear me?” Again her words were like sweet music to
me, a melody I heard as much in my mind as in my ears. “There’s something I want to tell you.
Something important.” Though I heard her tone grow serious, I suckled still for her milk.
38
“You know, of course, how you first got exposed, right? To the virus? It was me. I did it. I snuck
it into a drink last year, when you were over visiting Becky. From a sample, from my father’s lab.
I liked you so much…” I should be shocked, outraged, with the news. What had she done? But I
was too far gone, my will consumed by the sickness, content at the young breast of this curvy
beauty. I continued to nurse silently.
“And…I took some myself. I infected myself. So you would grow to like me…not Becky. Not
anyone. So we could be together. So we could always be together.” She shifted me slightly in
her hands, my body growing smaller every moment. “My father blames himself. He thinks he
had contaminated the house. But it was me….and I’m happy I did it. Are you?”
Her voice, to my ears, had become gradually softer and softer, as if more distant. But I heard
her in my head, now, as clear as can be. Are you? Her voice asked, inside my body, Are you
happy? Happy You’re here with me? Happy I did this to you? That now I can hold you in my
hands? Hmm?
She read my thoughts, I knew.
You are, aren’t you? You like shrinking, you do. You want to be even smaller, with me, don’t
you? You want me to make you tiny. Tiny, so you can slip between my breasts. Is that it? You
want to be between my breasts? My big, big breasts…
Again she shifted me, holding me now with one hand against her. I felt my hard member, once
again aroused, slide across her smooth skin. In a reflex, I began to rut into her pillowy flesh.
Ooooh…and look. Look what you’re doing. You want them to be bigger, hmm? Bigger and
bigger and bigger. So you can feel them grow all around you, grow all around you as your little
body’s trapped between them. How will that feel, hmm? To feel my breasts grow and squeeze
you, caught between them? Or…trapped in my bra? Hmm? How would that be? If I put on a
bra, trapped you inside? How would you like that?
My loins were working rhythmically, now, into her skin, out of my conscious control, urging
forward another climax for her flesh. My skin, I noted with vague interest, seemed to be
changing, sticking tackily to where it contacted her.
Is that what you want, Mike? To get in my bra? To get in Laurie’s big bra? Cute little Laurie.
Becky’s little sister. The little sister. The little sister with the big tits. Little Laurie has such big,
big boobs now, doesn’t she, Mike? She’s grown such big, huge breasts that you just don’t know
what you’re going to do, do you? You want her soooo bad. Well, Mike, here…you can live your
dreams, live all your little fantasies. You can get into her bra, Mike, you can live in her bra.
I felt her hand leave me, but somehow I remained attached to her, stuck skin to skin like a fly to
flypaper. What was happening? Was I being absorbed? Drawn into her? My mouth, somehow
39
still big enough though my body had shrunk to mere inches, continued to draw milk from her.
Here, Mike, let’s try. This one should fit.
I opened my failing eyes and was dimly aware of a looming shadow, an enveloping darkness
overcoming me, wrapping me to her. Her bra. She was putting on a bra. Slipping a cup expertly
over one massive breast, then the other, pinning me snug to her. Fastening the straps in back,
she drew its fabric taut against me.
There we go. That’s better, hmm? I bought this one special, Mike, bigger. So we’d have it for
today. Now, how does that feel?
Her fingers massaged me through the satin, my body no more than two inches now, pushing my
hips in their rhythm into her breast. My shaft was no longer merely rubbing against her smooth
skin, but had actually seemed to enter her flesh. I felt her, warm and silky, encasing, enveloping
my manhood completely as if in a soft, firm grip, ready to receive my ejaculate. My arousal
peaked further, I felt myself poised, ready to come.
Do you feel that? Hmm? I felt her thoughts once again, flowing into me through her skin, as if
directly to my bloodstream. Do you feel yourself sticking to me? I’m taking you in, Mike. Keep
sucking, keep nursing my milk, baby, and come closer. We can be together.
I felt my lips tingling, disappearing, fusing with her nipple. My ability to suck had nearly faded.
Rather, milk pumped itself down my throat to the beat of her heart. My loins, indeed my entire
torso, were now joined completely to her breast. Her flesh undulated around me, caressing me,
absorbing me, milking my dwindling organ for its fluid like the gentle workings of firm, wet
hands and mouths about my shaft. I felt myself literally swelling, teetering on the edge of
release.
Come on, Mike, give it to me. Give it to me this one time and you’ll be mine. Forever.
What was left of my jaw strained in a wide, silent cry, my sightless eyes clamping shut, as I burst
forth into her, spilling what seemed like all my inner organs, my entire viscera, my very soul,
into her waiting flesh, her meat. My collapsing nervous system was wracked with intolerable
pleasure, pulsating, as it dissolved into her.
Come, Mike, come, she urged me, Come into me. It’s so nice. It’s so nice in here.
Under me I felt her breast surge, swelling with new growth, as she took my essence into her.
Pressing me into her bra, her flesh crawled over me, pulling me in deeper. I was now only
vaguely aware of her fingertip at my back, massaging me, pushing me through the bra’s fabric
further inward. Her thoughts were all around me now, surrounding me, erasing my own
conscious mind.
40
Come, baby, come. Let me have it. Let me have it all. That’s right, that’s good. Let me have you.
Let me have you inside me.
I felt our bloodstreams mingle, her heart eclipsing mine as it forced its lifeblood through me. I
sunk deeper, deeper, until I was absorbed in total, little more than a tiny swelling below her
skin. Soon my thoughts lost shape, direction, sense of time. I was aware only of her. I was with
her, within her, part of her. Close to her beating heart, awash in her thick warmth.
We were together, she told me, together forever and ever and ever

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