Chapter 4

Early the next morning, around 4:30 am, Irina awoke suddenly from unsettled dreams. Both occurrences were unusual for her: she almost always slept right through the night, and she rarely recalled dreaming anything at all. But now, as she lay wide awake, staring up at the ceiling of the housekeeper’s quarters, she had a feeling, and a lingering image in mind, from the dream she had just been having. She felt the remnants of a strange warmth and fluidity…strong…and calm, loving patience, the most motherly feeling she could have imagined up to that point. She had just been trying on a bra in her dream, but really, what she had been doing was using the whole thing as an excuse to expose herself to…to who? She knew that someone had been watching her…a male…and she knew that she had been chuckling softly at his gaping, gawking reaction. She could almost see him now, as the dream began to fade; she had been sitting down, and he had been standing up, right next to her, but the top of his head had only reached her nose. Sandy brown hair…and…had those been big blue eyes looking at her breasts, wide and totally overwhelmed? Had it been Warren in her dream?

Irina just lay there for several minutes, staring up at the ceiling, as the dream faded quickly from her memory. Deep down, she knew that it had to have been Warren. Was this what that nurse, Sarah, had been talking about? About the strange, unusual feelings going on in her head?

‘If you have anything concerning going on in your head, I want you to reach out to me, ok Irina? I’ll pick up.’

Sarah’s words echoed in her head, and in a sudden fit of energy, Irina very nearly reached over and dialed the number that the nurse had given her. But she quickly relented, feeling a little foolish.

‘It was just a little dream, nothing more,’ said Irina to herself. ‘And besides, it’s 4:30 in the morning. It would be very rude to contact her right now, unless there was a significant emergency. Just relax, Irina.’

She gathered herself back under the covers, turned over, and tried to go back to sleep, but her mind was moving too quickly to revert back to sleep. She was thinking back to the events of the previous day, once they had returned from the doctor’s office. Warren had taken to lounging on his favorite sofa upstairs in his bedroom, watching TV as Irina had put a cold washcloth on his head and prepared him a nice cool drink made from fruit that she had found in his refrigerator and freshly squeezed. She had been surprised Warren had even had fruit at all in the first place.

‘He looked so cozy there, on his sofa,’ Irina thought to herself. ‘All covered in blankets…god his skin is so pale…it’s like he never goes out and gets any sunlight at all…well of course he doesn’t Irina he’s agoraphobic…well maybe not officially…or maybe so, who knows…anyway go easy on him…he was just diagnosed with the Whipple Virus he’s actually taken it quite well all things considering…maybe he’s in shock though…god he’s such a small, vulnerable little man…in my heels I’m actually a little taller than him…I definitely outweigh him too…if it came to it, I could force him to do things and he wouldn’t be able to stop me.’

Irina paused in her thinking — what on earth was going on!? Her mind was moving so fast, especially considering that she had just woken up more or less in the middle of the night. And the things she was thinking about…how small and vulnerable Warren had looked on that sofa, and how he had reached his hands out, almost like a little child, to accept the fruit drink she had made for him…she suddenly realized that her nipples had gotten hard through her nightshirt. Irina shuddered to herself, even as she fought inwardly with the desire to reach up and fondle her nipples, and even to reach down and start playing with her clit. Was this the effect of the virus, working its insidious way upon her? These thoughts were definitely out-of-the-ordinary for Irina, even though it was true that she could make herself feel good, taking care of other people. She had always been this way — it truly gave her pleasure to know that the people entrusted to her care were safe and cared for.

‘But not sexual pleasure,’ she thought to herself, countering herself. ‘Not this way.’

She didn’t know what to think about it all, and for the next 20 minutes, she tossed and turned, trying in vain to quiet her thoughts, to return to sleep. But it just wasn’t working. Her mind was too busy, and her body…well, her body was right along for the ride. Irina had never felt this energetic so early in the morning, and she was decidedly a “morning person.” But after nearly half an hour, this switching up positions in the bed, and going back and forth, back and forth, just wasn’t going to cut it. Irina could feel herself getting more and more irritated internally, and finally, she reached over to her nightstand and turned off her 6 am alarm.

“May as well get some work done early,” she muttered to herself out loud.

Less than five minutes later, she was fully dressed in another one of her maid’s outfits, bustling quietly about the house in search of early-morning tasks to accomplish. It wasn’t hard at all finding things that needed cleaning, fixing, or both. Most of the large mansion was covered in a thin layer of dust, and some rooms, which seemed not to have been entered for years, were much, much dustier still.

‘Geez, the dust alone is gonna take days…maybe even weeks to clean up,’ Irina thought, shaking her head in affable censure at the thought of Warren sitting all day on his sofa, oblivious to the dust buildup in his gigantic house.

‘That can’t be healthy for him,” Irina thought, dusting the areas, aside from his closed bedroom, that Warren frequented the most first. ‘He’s already sick — the last thing he needs is some respiratory illness to go along with the Whipple’s.’

Pretty soon, Irina had lost herself in her work. She was dusting and tidying as she went, picking up stray little pieces of refuse or trash that had gathered in the corners of some of the rooms, all the while spraying her bright, citrus-flavored dusting spray around, leaving each room that she visited sparkling-clean. She had even started humming to herself without realizing, and while the actual images of her dream had faded, the warm, fluid feeling in her bosom had only seemed to intensify. Every room she spruced up and cleaned made her feel a little cozier, like she was that much closer to finishing preparations for the nest. Somewhere in her mind, Irina knew that the strength of this driving “nesting instinct” was uncharacteristic, even for her, but she soon lost herself in her work, and cheerfully dismissed any errant fears of the virus.

Three hours later, Irina had cleaned nearly all the rooms on the third floor of the mansion. The only room left to do on the floor was Warren’s bedroom, which remained shut. For a long, strange moment, Irina stood outside his door, debating with herself whether to knock and wait for a response, to knock and then go straight in, or to not even knock at all and to slip quietly in, without waking him.

‘Wait a minute, what are you thinking?’ she chastised herself suddenly. ‘You can’t go in there! He’s sleeping! His door is closed! Off limits!’

Irina had to chuckle to herself and shake her head a little as she made her way down to the main floor. As if she had the right to just go barging into her employer’s bedroom!

‘But he’s sick,’ she reminded herself, proceeding to the kitchen as she decided to go ahead and have breakfast ready for Warren when he rose. ‘It wouldn’t be crazy just to check in on him.’

She resolved, as a sort of pact within herself, to knock quietly on his door if she hadn’t heard anything from him by 10. In the meantime, she continued busying herself with cleaning and breakfast preparation. It wasn’t lost on her, by 9 am at least, that even though she had been working at a more-or-less constant rate since 5, she hadn’t tired in the least. If anything, she felt more energetic than ever. Looking down at her arms, she noticed that they looked a bit more defined than they had been before. Was she just seeing things? Or…was it the virus working on her?

“Ah,” she said dismissively, brushing it off with a wave of her hand, “I’ve been working for hours. Of course I’m a little more…how do they say it here in the US…pumped up? Haha…”

10 am approached rapidly, and although she continued busying herself around the house with countless chores, Irina could feel herself becoming more and more concerned. Did Warren always sleep this late? Was his fever higher? And oddly, at the same time, she felt anxiety emerging from an entirely different part of her brain. The last thing she wanted was to knock on his door, wake him up, and make him feel like he was being bombarded by his new housekeeper. It wasn’t her business to be his…his mother, or anything like that. With a bit of a shameful lurch in her stomach, Irina remembered how she had just thrown his lunch away the previous day, without even hardly thinking about it. She had apologized about it, yes, yes, but still…it was exactly that kind of over-motherly, busybody-type interference that she needed to avoid. But still, the Whipple Virus…and the way he had just dozed off in the car…and had he already started to lose weight? Irina didn’t know, and as the clock struck 9:45, she herself felt bombarded, by the competing urges within her.

Thankfully, Warren spared her the decision she was about to make by emerging from his bedroom sleepily just after 9:50, rubbing his eyes as he made his way slowly downstairs, still dressed in his pajamas.

“Oh! Good morning Warren!” said Irina brightly, trying not to make too much of a show of herself as she watched him descending down the stairs towards her. She had felt something twinge within her when she saw him. He definitely didn’t look too much better.

“Good…morning, Irina,” replied Warren, sleep still weighing down his voice. “It…uh, smells really nice upstairs.”

“Oh yes, I’ve been cleaning all morning,” she said with a smile. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“Not at all,” he said, reaching the bottom of the stairs and making his way uneasily towards the kitchen. He too had been disturbed by unsettling dreams, but unlike Irina, he hadn’t woken up. Instead, his dreams had deepened, and when he had woken up, he had realized that his pajamas were nearly soaked through with sweat. He had put on a new pair, but in doing so, he realized that the waistline was a little looser than he remembered it being before. Still though, they were pajamas…they were meant to be loose.

‘Surely,’ he had thought, ‘I’m just freaking out over nothing…already, and I just woke up.’

“How are you feeling?” asked Irina, making up a healthy omelette for him. “Did you take your temperature yet?”

“Uh, yeah,” answered Warren, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “Not much better. 101.3.”

“Well…that’s…that’s a bit lower than yesterday, though,” said Irina encouragingly. “Feeling as…feverish, in general?”

“A little,” said Warren, grimacing slightly as he sat down on a stool at the counter. “Just…really tired.”

Irina had glanced for an instant at Warren’s exposed forearms, which he had crossed on the counter as he leaned in slightly.

‘He definitely looks smaller,’ she told herself, turning back around to focus on his omelette. ‘I know I’m not imagining that. He was small to begin with, I know…but…oh god, I’m not even sure. Am I losing my mind?’

She turned back around and looked again, disguising her motion with a quick little smile.

‘Smaller,’ she agreed to herself, turning back around, trying to ignore the impinges of her nipples that had started pressing into her maid’s outfit.

“What’s, uh…what’s that you’re making there?” asked Warren, peering with slight trepidation as he leaned over the counter.

“This is an omelette for your breakfast,” answered Irina, not turning around as she jostled the ingredients in the pan. “I hope you don’t mind, but I thought it would be a good way for you to, you know…start the day. With some good cholesterol, protein, omega-3s, and the um…the essential nutrients in the peppers and mushrooms I put in.”

“I…oh…ok,” said Warren slowly, feeling guilty. He wasn’t really accustomed to eating breakfast in general, and he certainly wasn’t used to having these kinds of home-cooked, healthy ingredients. It all seemed a bit overwhelming for him…and he wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of mushrooms. Still though, he knew that Irina was right — he knew that he needed to eat healthily in order to keep up his health and stave off the worst effects of the virus; but just seeing his housekeeper standing there in her maid’s outfit, her large breasts bulging the front of it, and her sizable ass ballooning out behind it, as she wade him breakfast…well, it made him feel an uncomfortable array of emotions. He was feeling aroused by the sight of her body, and yet, at the same time, he was resisting this arousal, and arguing within himself that this new hire was again overstepping the boundaries of her job.

“Oh…do you…do you not like eggs?” asked Irina with concern, turning around and looking at him. Warren noticed how her E-cups swayed and bounced slightly with her movement, but he did his best to ignore their motion, looking up at her and smiling slightly, shaking his head.

“Heheh, uh, no, no, I do,” he answered. Even though he felt weak and slightly feverish, he was heartened to hear that he could make his voice sound more or less normal, and even, he thought, authoritative.

“I’m just not used to eating these kinds of…haha, fresh meals, you know,” he added, dosing his words with lightness to disguise his uneasiness. “But…thank you, Irina, for, um…taking it upon yourself to make it for me. But I hope you know that…well, haha, you know, that you don’t have to do this every morning. I mean, it’s not something I expect from you as…as part of your job or anything.”

“Oh that’s good of you to mention, Warren,” responded Irina, maybe a bit too quickly for her own liking, “But it’s honestly something I enjoy doing. Cooking food for people, that is. I know that it wasn’t really in the job description for the housekeeping job I applied for, but, well…I’m happy to do it.”

“Well…thanks!” said Warren, smiling. Internally, he was shrugging off his initial misgivings. What was he afraid of, anyway?

“Alright, here we are!” announced Irina a short while later, bringing the plate of omelette over to him. “Salt and pepper on the counter there…I hope you like it!”

“Hey, thanks Irina!” said Warren, accepting the plate. He found that he was actually fairly hungry…and anyway, he could eat around the mushrooms.

“Did you already take your medicine this morning?” asked Irina as he ate. Warren nodded silently, looking up as he gave her a bit of a queer look. The housekeeper quickly backtracked, holding up her hands and smiling.

“Haha, I’m sorry Warren — I don’t mean to be nosy or anything. I was just…uh, heheh, just making sure it hadn’t skipped your mind.”

“No, no, I took it,” said Warren. He hadn’t been able to disguise his apprehension that time. This new housekeeper really did seem to be taking a bit of undue interest in the day-to-day routine of his life. Warren was happy for the emotional help and support that Irina had given him the previous day, but his anxiety surrounding his strange attraction to her, combined with his unease around his virus diagnosis, made him feel a bit defensive of his own independence.

“Of course you did, of course,” nodded Irina, internally chastising herself for stepping over the line. “I was just…you know, thinking back a little to yesterday. But I know you have everything under control.”

“Yeah…but, uh…well thanks anyway,” said Warren, turning back to his omelette. A few seconds of awkward silence slunk by, and Warren felt a need to inject something light into the void between them. He looked up at Irina, who was wiping down the counter, and pointed to the omelette with his fork.

“Mmm!” he exclaimed, smiling. “That’s really good!”

“Glad you like it,” smiled Irina. She stood there looking at him for a second or two, and then lightly shrugged her shoulders, moving off to the far part of the kitchen to put away the breakfast ingredients. She felt like she needed to get away from him…she was becoming concerned about giving herself away to him. Even in the way that she had looked at him just then, for a second or two too long, Irina worried that Warren would somehow deduce that she was having inappropriate feelings about him. The housekeeper herself wasn’t at all comfortable about the strange, unpredictable, and unreasonable feelings that were welling up in her. When Warren had told her that he had indeed taken his morning medication, her first instinct had been to feel left out, like he had done something alone that they were supposed to do together. If she had pursued this flash-reaction and further, she would have realized that it arose out of genuine disappointment — she hadn’t realized it, but she had actually been looking forward to pouring out Warren’s medicine that morning, and giving it to him herself.

Warren finished the rest of his omelette in silence, scrolling through apps on his phone in the process. He briefly considered eating the mushrooms, out of simple deference to Irina, but he quickly decided that he didn’t owe it to her to eat everything she made him. She was the one working for him, after all, and in time, she would learn which foods he liked and which ones he didn’t.

He hopped down from his stool and carried his plate to the sink. Irina happened to be going in the same direction, to wet a wash rag to wipe down the counter with, and the two of them arrived at the sink at the same moment.

“Uhh,” said Warren nervously, not understanding why his heart had started beating faster in his chest, “That was…that was delicious Irina, thank you.”

“I’m glad…glad you liked it!” she answered, registering that her heart had started racing as well. He looked shorter to her as well…the top of his head was even with her eyebrows. Even though Irina was wearing her 2-inch heels, he looked shorter to her than he had the previous day. A twin jolt of electricity went through her nipples, and she felt them again standing at attention, pressing through her bra. She needed a distraction, and fast.

“Uh…not a…not huge fan of mushrooms, huh?” she remarked, smiling crookedly down at his plate.

“Ah…haha, um, no, not really,” he responded, blushing a little sheepishly as he forked them into the garbage can. “But, uh…no worries! The rest of it was great!”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Irina said amiably. She watched Warren cleaning off his plate, and then, without thinking, she reached down and fastened her hand around the dish, blurting out, “Here, I’ll take that.”

But Warren didn’t let go. Instead, he merely looked up at her, his big blue eyes regarding hers for an instant. That was all Irina needed to let go of the plate and back away, shaking her head.

“Goodness, haha! Warren, I’m sorry, I’m in your way again. Let me just…hehe, let me just let you go about your business and…and I’ll get to work elsewhere.”

Warren had felt a pang of possessive annoyance when Irina had tried to take his plate from him, but seeing her back up like this, all discombobulated, made him feel sorry for her. Embarrassed, even, that his look could have made her feel awkward. And he couldn’t help it, but his eyes glanced down, seemingly of their own accord, at her gently swaying breasts, before flitting back up to her face again. He felt his balls rise slightly as blood started trickling into the base of his cock. Were her…nipples hard!?

“Oh…Irina, uhh…d-don’t…don’t worry,” he laughed nervously, hoping that she hadn’t seen him look at her breasts, “I appreciate your, uh, your willingness to help, haha. It’s just that, uh…I mean, I can still do…you know, my own dishes and all. I don’t expect you to just…haha, do everything for me, you know?”

“Oh, oh yes, yes of course, Warren!” answered Irina immediately, nodding vigorously. She hadn’t realized it, but her nodding was slightly jiggling her plush E-cups, and Warren couldn’t avoid taking notice again. This time, she did see him look, and she felt her nipples get harder still. She fought off the sudden and powerful urge to step forward and embrace him, squeezing him between her fat tits.

“And,” added Warren, standing up a little straighter, surprising himself with his assertiveness, “I know that…like, some things are gonna get harder for me to do, because of this virus. But, uhh…I’ve been thinking that it’s probably a, uh…a good idea for me to get in the habit of doing as much for myself as I can, you know? Just so I can feel…um, like I’m not just having everything done for me. Heheh, sorry if I’m rambling. Does that make any sense?”

“That makes total sense, Warren,” agreed Irina, nodding deliberately again. She had to push down her immediate response which was whispering itself in her ear: ‘He’s got it backwards — he needs to get used to having things done for him, so it’ll be easier to deal with when he gets smaller.’ But Irina kept up her appearance of concurrence.

“I really admire your determination to remain strong throughout all this,” she adjoined, “And…haha, well, don’t let me stand in your way. Like I said yesterday, I just enjoy taking care of people. I’ve been doing it my whole life, so…hehe, yes. You don’t hesitate to tell me when I’m coming on too strong and I’ll…I’ll back off.”

Irina had been slowly walking towards Warren as she spoke, reversing her initial retreat from him. Her instincts were proving too strong. Even as she spoke of her admiration for Warren’s determined independence, she could feel herself, as if by magnetic attraction, drawing herself closer to him. The primal foundation of her brain was yearning to compare their statures, their bodies. Once Irina had finished saying “I’ll back off,” she had ironically positioned herself directly in front of him, so that their height difference could be the most noticeable. She blinked down at him, smiling sweetly, even as he looked her up and down and blushed a deeper crimson. It was clear now that her earlier estimations of his shrinkage had been too conservative: she could see now that the top of his head only came up to her eyes.

Warren found himself looking straight into her neck, which rose and undulated slightly as she swallowed. He felt his cock hardening even further, and tried willing his legs to back up. But a more foundational part of his brain, the same primal foundation that had compelled Irina to walk towards him, was holding him in place. He looked down and saw that her huge breasts were even with his shoulders. There was no question now: he could see the thick impinges of her nipples through her top. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead.

“Huh,” said Irina softly, her voice quivering slightly, “I think you’re smaller, Warren.”