Chapter 20

Irina’s playful implied threat was more than enough to spur Warren on. Summoning all his powers of concentration, he turned back towards the fridge, willing himself to look up past the numberless jars of Irina’s still-steaming milk, and onto the top shelf. He had initially planned on getting his breakfast from the fridge, where there was plentiful fruit and yogurt, but looking up, he saw, to his dismay, that all of the yogurt cups, and apples and oranges and strawberries, were out of reach, way up on the top shelf. It didn’t matter that he was standing on a step stool, and it didn’t matter that he was standing on his tiptoes. The outstretched reach of his pitiful little arms didn’t come anywhere close to reaching his prize. For a long, agonizing moment, Warren’s heart sank. There was just no way…no way he was going to be able to do this…

But then he suddenly thought of the pantry. There were granola bars there! And some dried fruit too! With a glass of water, he could surely make the case that those things constituted a nutritious breakfast!

New life flooded into his brain, and Warren sprang into action, which began with him “springing” down off the step stool. His descent was not as smooth and effortless as he would have liked it to appear, and he stumbled sideways a couple paces. He had expected to hear Irina chuckling in the background, but all he heard (and felt, through the floor) were her soft, heavy footsteps, coming closer and closer. Warren recovered and walked back quickly towards the open fridge to close the door. Before he could reach up to close it, though, Irina’s huge voluptuous 6’11 body came into view. In the same amount of time, she had crossed four times the distance he had with her long strides; she had beaten him to the fridge, and was looking down on him pleasantly, a warm smile on her face that seemed to sparkle with the brightness in her eyes.

“Aw, not gonna get breakfast from the fridge?” she asked teasingly, sticking her tongue into the side of her cheek.

“I…the uh…” Warren tried to begin, but he stopped. He didn’t want to admit that he couldn’t reach the fruit and yogurt, but Irina already seemed to understand.

“Oh! Oh is all the breakfast stuff too high for you?” she asked mildly, turning around and proceeding to grab two yogurt cups, an apple, and two oranges, all with the same hand, as Warren watched in amazement. Her hand was so big that she could hold all that without even trying. Even if he could have reached the shelf, Warren would have considered it an accomplishment if he had wrangled himself a single orange without falling off his stool.

“Haha well…I’d love to help you, but, like you said,” Irina continued, shaking her head amiably down at him, “You’re making breakfast all by yourself, so…heheh, more for me, I guess!” She paused for a second, making it a point to glance obviously down at the open jars of milk.

“But Warren…” she ventured, cocking an eyebrow down at him, “You know, seeing as how you only have, like, twelve minutes to make yourself a whole meal…you DO know that I consider milk a nutritious breakfast, right?”

Warren knew that she was screwing with him now. The only milk in the fridge was her own, and he knew that it wasn’t an accident that her milk was the only thing in the fridge that he could actually reach. He inhaled a breath, ready to answer her in a polite but firm retort, but just then Irina wrapped her big hand around one of the jars and pulled it out of the fridge, turning and swirling it around. Warren had to tense his jaws to keep his mouth from dropping open — the milk looked so thick, so creamy, so unbelievably tasty…as Irina slowly swirled the jar around, Warren could see how the milk’s velvety viscosity completely coated the top portions of the glass jar, and didn’t slide back down quickly. And then, Irina actually brought the jar up to her mouth, extending her tongue as she tasted, swirling it around suggestively in the white viscous goodness.

“Mmmmmm!” she intoned, winking down at him as she drew her milk-tipped tongue into her mouth, “I know it might sound weird, Warren, but damn that tastes good! Waaaaay, way sweeter and creamier than any other kind of milk I’ve ever had. And they say on TV that it’s a good idea for us women to taste our milk every now and then…haha, I’m sure you’ve heard this too — if it’s sour, then that means it’s stayed in our breasts too long. Not good for our overall constitution, you know. But if it’s sweet, mmmmm, well then it came out at jussssst the right time.”

Warren knew exactly what Irina was doing, but it didn’t stop him from salivating at the sight of that thick creaminess in the jar, or the thought of him actually gulping it down. What on earth was he thinking, trying to prove something!? Why didn’t he just give up and submit to her? She would let him have all the milk he wanted…and straight from the source, too. He could feel the body heat radiating off her enormous statuesque form next to him. His head only came up to the middle of her thigh at this point, right where the bottom part of her impossibly-tight, skimpy dress ended. Warren was sure that if Irina had wanted to, she could have taken a huge deep breath, flexed her body, and literally burst herself out of the entire dress. A substantial part of himself longed to see this, just as he longed to guzzle her delicious milk.

But somehow, he managed to push all of these desires back down into himself. He was going to prove to Irina that he was still a man…that he didn’t need her help.

“I’m…I’m just gonna…g-gonna get something from the, uhm…the pantry, actually,” he muttered.

“Hmmm, the pantry? Wellll…alrighty then,” said Irina with feigned wistfulness as she put the jar of her milk back in the fridge. Warren reached up to try and start pulling the door to, but Irina reached out her hand, grasping it around the top corner of the door even as Warren struggled to navigate the bottom corner.

“I know I’m cheating by helping you,” Irina chuckled, bouncing those bodacious breasts as she flexed her calves by standing up and down on her toes, “But you’ve only got eight minutes left, Warren…and I just couldn’t bear to watch you waste two or three of them trying to close the fridge. Here, let me do it, while you show me how independent you are.”

Warren winced at the good-natured sting from Irina, but he didn’t have time to respond or protest. He watched her give a casual flick of her finger, swinging the entire heavy door closed, and he had to admit that she had definitely saved him at least a minute there.

“Th-thanks,” he mumbled, and was scurrying off to the pantry. He couldn’t waste any more time staring at her. Everything she did, and every movement she made, was mesmerizing. Thirty seconds later he was up on another step stool in the pantry, desperately scanning the shelves for any sign of the granola bars or dried fruit. His heart began to quicken even faster as his eyes desperately went up and down the shelves. There didn’t seem to be anything he was looking for…at least, not any place he could see it. But how could that possibly be!? He was sure that he had seen some granola bars in here weeks before…had Irina eaten them all??

The mellifluous sounds of Irina humming flowed into Warren’s ears, and along with her music came the enticing sounds of sizzling. A couple seconds later Warren could smell the savory, spicy scents of sausage, hissing out violently into the air. Warren turned, and from his pantry perch, he saw Irina with her back turned to him, standing at the stove. Her ass cheeks swelled out so thickly behind her that the vibrant red dress looked more like an afterthought than anything else — if Warren had been standing directly beneath her he would have been able to actually see the curving contours of her ass cheeks as they curved and exploded away from her thighs. But as it was, all he could tell was that she was making some kind of delicious-smelling breakfast for herself.

*TacTac* *TacTac* *TacTac*

Irina had a few eggs in her hand, apparently, and smartly had broken them against the counter, emptying their golden contents into the pan, making it hiss and smoke even more. A few moments later she was adding a heaping handful of spinach, and a few delicious flourishes of what smelled like cumin, garlic, and chili powder. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Warren figured that it would have taken him around half an hour to get all those ingredients together, much less actually use them while cooking in real time.

But he didn’t currently have the mental capacity to think about all this. All Warren could do was stand there on the stool, totally transported by this 6’11, gorgeous beauty of a woman. Irina wasn’t doing anything spectacular in and of itself — she was just standing there, lightly bobbing her incredible body up and down as she stood in place, stirring her omelette, humming pleasantly to herself. She made everything she was around — the stove, the refrigerator, the countertop, the sink, the entire kitchen — look absolutely tiny. The counter was even with her lower thighs, and whenever she stirred her pan, she had to actually take a couple steps back to bend down far enough. And, of course, when she bent down, her ass cheeks sprawled out even huger.

‘He’s been in there for a while already,’ Irina thought to herself, gently shaking her ass as she bent down to stir her omelette again. ‘HmmHmm, I wonder what he could be doing?’

She badly wanted to steal a glance behind her, but she held firm, reminding herself that she was only going to turn and look at him when he had two minutes to go. This was all going so well that she could hardly even believe it — it had taken next to no planning on her part. She hadn’t even rearranged the pantry or the fridge (except, of course, to store away her jars of breast milk), and even still, Warren was having so much trouble. But Irina suspected that his difficulties had as much to do with her distracting presence as they did with his inability to reach anything.

‘Well that’s his problem, now, isn’t it?’ she thought sweetly to herself. ‘If he’s gonna show me how independent he is, that involves being able to actually do things with me around, right?’

She glanced at the clock, inhaling through her nose in excitement. Only three minutes left. As she inhaled and smelled the piquant breakfast scents wafting up from the pan, she noted how relieved her chest felt. Using that breast pump to milk herself had felt a little sad at first — a little lonely and artificial — but now that her tits had been relieved of the pressure, she had to admit that they felt amazing. But even still, when she was in more quiet settings, she could almost feel her breasts working hard, starting to make more.

It was time. She took the pan off the stove, spilled her delectable omelette onto a plate, and swiftly turned around. As she expected, she caught Warren ogling her from the pantry. He froze, his eyes wide like empty plates.

“Hahaha the clock is ticking, Warren!” laughed Irina, as she swiped up her plate and strode over to one of the metal stools by the counter. “You’ve only got two minutes left!”

“I…I — w-what!?” he squeaked, blinking rapidly. Had he really been staring at Irina’s backside for five whole minutes?!

“Heheh, just sayin’,” she chuckled, settling herself down to her own rich breakfast, complete with a cup of piping hot coffee.

“B-But I…I can’t…I c-can’t find any of the g-granola in here!” he yelped. “It was…it was here before!”

“Maybe try the bottom shelf,” Irina suggested, her mouth already full. She shook her head to herself, taking pleasure in his panic. She was giving him all this help, and even still, she was confident that it wouldn’t matter in the end.

Warren immediately ducked down to check the bottom shelf, and almost immediately he noticed the big cardboard box way in the back, by the wall.

‘There it is!’ he thought, with lightning-fast energy infusing his gut. He didn’t even have time to kick himself for not looking there first. He reached for the box, and upon realizing that his little arms didn’t go far enough, he flattened himself out completely against the smooth hardwood floor. Irina put her hand to her mouth and had to make a conscious effort to swallow her food through her smothered laughter. His little body just looked so cute there, all sprawled out on the floor, only his tiny legs visible, sticking out under the bottom pantry shelf.

Warren finally managed to secure a single granola bar, and he rushed up to the counter holding it. A few jumps later and he had managed to climb up one of the metal stools next to Irina. He was there! He had made it! All he had to do was open the wrapper and he’d be able to say he did it all himself.

“One minute!” laughed Irina, her eyes dancing down at him as she continued to eat. Warren was returning her smile now, and he picked up the granola bar, pinching the corners of the wrapper with his fingers as he tried to tear into it. But try as he might, the plastic proved more difficult than he had anticipated. He pulled and pulled at it, but the wrapper remained stubbornly intact.

Warren looked up at Irina in another panic — the last fifteen minutes had been a roller coaster of triumphs followed by anxiety, over and over. And even in the closing moments here, Warren’s subconscious was reminding him that all of these ups and downs revolved around his ability to locate and open a single granola bar. Meanwhile, Irina just sat there, savoring her breakfast as she enjoyed the show.

“30 seconds!” she laughed meaningfully. Warren cursed and flipped the granola bar around on the counter. He’d try to open it from the other side. His eyes glanced down, marveling at how Irina’s huge ass was actually hanging over both ends of the stool, which it completely filled. He was kneeling on his stool, and still, the top of his head only came up to the bottom of her shoulders. His face was turning red with desperate effort. The plastic was starting to stretch a little! Maybe…just maybe…he could do it!

“Ten…” began Irina. She had stopped eating and was now leaning forward on her elbows, watching the drama transpire in front of her.

“Nine, eight, seven, six…”

Warren exclaimed out in a high-pitched whine as he shook the wrapper hopelessly.

“Five, four, three, twooooo…One! Zero! Awwwwwwww!” cried Irina exultantly, throwing up her arms like she was watching the dramatic conclusion to an exciting game. “Sooooo close!”

“I…I c—…I just…I couldn’t…” panted Warren, shaking his head as he bowed it in shameful defeat. His face was covered in sweat.

“Couldn’t open the wrapper, huh?” teased Irina. She spider-crawled her gigantic fingers over, snagged the granola bar, and effortlessly opened it with a quick little snap of her thumb and pinkie. Warren stared after it like a dead man, not so much in surprise at Irina being able to do it so easily, but rather in dread for what awaited him now.

“Well a deal’s a deal, so up you go!” laughed Irina. She wasn’t going to waste any time now; she had been looking forward to this all morning, and the moment had finally arrived. Snaking two enormous hands under Warren’s armpits, she whooshed him up off the stool and threaded his little legs through the openings of the high chair. A few seconds later she was standing there, hands clasped in delight in front of her, as she beheld Warren strapped in the high chair…his high chair…with the light blue bib adorning his shrunken chest.

“You look soooooo cute, Warren!” Irina giggled, her curves jiggling with quiet suggestion as she stood there, enjoying his newfound demotion. Warren could only frown sullenly; he had lost yet another pillar of his self-respect. Not only would he be subject to regular measurements and weigh-ins every day, or be forced to sleep with Irina in his bed. Now he wouldn’t even be able to eat without sitting in this high chair, with this ridiculous bib that he had been fool enough to buy before, in a moment of madness.

“Awwww, don’t look so sour,” chuckled Irina, her voice deeply feminine with empathy, “It’ll just take some getting used to…haha, for both of us! Guess I’ll have to feed you now! So how about it Warren? What can I…get you?”

She ran a long finger suggestively over the edge of her left breast as she spoke, pausing right at the wide and protruding expanse of her nipple. It didn’t matter that she had milked herself earlier that morning — if Warren had asked for it, she would have been ready to go again. She was confident that the thick white milk would flow, especially in response to his eagerly puckered lips. She saw his eyes linger where her finger was…but she could tell that he was still holding out. Irina felt a sigh pass through her body, but she reminded herself that she was not going to force the issue. At least…not yet.

“I…um, c-could you…could you m-make me one of those…those omelettes?” Warren ventured. Irina smiled and nodded, and five minutes later she was sitting there sipping her coffee, watching the 3’3 little man take tiny bites of the omelette she had chopped up. But they both knew what he really wanted.

The next few days proceeded along without too much open incident, to the point where Warren actually wondered if his inexorable decline had been halted, and if things as they stood would actually crystalize into a normal routine. Aside from the obvious indignity of mealtime, when Irina would smile and giggle at him in the high chair, Warren was able to imagine that he still had some autonomy. He read much of the day, or watched TV in his bedroom, and even though Irina inevitably joined him in the bed during evenings, Warren was starting to feel that maybe she was starting to accept that their relationship would remain platonic, and, for the most part, mutually-adult.

Of course, Irina was just biding her time. Without telling Warren, she had ordered some new clothes off the internet, and they were set to arrive within a couple days. She was purposefully waiting until he shrank down to 3 feet tall, before enacting the next part of her plan. Sure enough, three days later, it was found that he had finally dwindled down to the 3-foot mark (right as she hit 7 feet). In bed that night, watching the news on TV, Irina waited a few moments, took a deep breath, and began:

“Say, Warren?”

“Hm?”

‘How cute,’ she thought, ‘He doesn’t know what’s about to happen…he thinks he can deny me…we’ll see about that.’

Warren was sitting there, propped up against his pillows, staring at Aly Rainsman armwrestle two former male bodybuilders (for the pure novelty of it all, of course — they had both shrank down to 3 feet tall, and their muscles were totally atrophied…the two of them were using both hands, and Aly was yawning to the camera, easily defeating them with one hand that was bigger than all four of their hands combined).

“Look, I know you haven’t been enjoying being on the losing end of that little wager we had a few days ago,” Irina said pleasantly. “So I’ve been thinking, Warren…”

He perked up and was staring up at her face now.

“Why not give you another chance to…well, you know…reclaim a little more independence? Would you like that?”

“I…uhm, y-yeah, I…think I would,” he answered. He reminded himself that his words were neutralized if he kept staring at her breasts like that. Even though, in his mind, the last few days had been more “normal,” a dull aching hunger had been growing in his stomach. It was one thing to refuse to drink directly from Irina’s breasts — that would have been too obvious. But her milk…it was still fresh, in those jars in the fridge. He could sneak some of it at night…without her knowing. Thus far, Warren had been able to control himself, but he would have been lying if he had said that the hunger hadn’t grown stronger with each passing day.

“So how about this?” Irina proposed. “You like…chess, right?”

Warren nodded. He had played chess for years, and had always been rather good at it, at least compared to some of the people he had played online. Months before, he had even managed to achieve a 1750 rating on one of the major chess sites…in his mind, something of an achievement.

“Good! Well I like chess too, even though I’ve always been a bit of an amateur at it. Probably not as good as you.” Irina wasn’t lying — she did enjoy the game, and had been told before that she could be better if she only focused a little more. Well, here was her chance to really lay into a game…to really actually try to win.

“So what if we played a game tomorrow?” she continued. “You versus me. I’ll even play as Black. If you win, then you don’t have to sit in that little high chair anymore.”

Warren’s face brightened, even as something inside him whispered that he actually liked Irina watching him as he ate like that, with his legs dangling. The other day she had even dabbed his chin with the bib, which had caused him to get hard instantly.

“And if I win,” Irina continued meaningfully, “Then I get to decide what you wear every day. Deal?”

Warren paused to consider, suddenly unsure. He certainly didn’t want to lose more of his autonomy, but he was fairly certain that he could beat Irina, especially if she had the black pieces.

“I know this is a little different than our past wager,” chuckled Irina, slithering her big arm behind Warren’s neck, cuddling him against her warm curves. “This is more for fun…even though the results will actually be serious. Oh, and I almost forgot — if we draw, then it’s the same as a win for you.”

That was all Warren needed to hear.

“Deal!” he exclaimed. His body was suddenly shaking, as the gentle but powerful vibrations of Irina’s pleased hums passed through every inch of his flesh as she shook her arm against him, cuddling his little body up against the colossal shape of her hip and upper thigh.

“Mmmmm, gooooood,” she hummed.

It was harder than usual for Warren to sleep that night. He was excited about the game tomorrow, yes, but…the real reason was that he just could not get the image of those steaming jars of creamy milk out of his head. He didn’t know how much longer he could take it, before he cracked and was forced to sneak downstairs, just for a tiny little taste.