Wooden Masks by Jennifer Loraine

submitted by admin - Jun 5, 2002

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(Rewritten from another author's story.)

Sunday morning started like any other Sunday morning in Seattle. Rain pattered against the windowpane of our bedroom as I turned off the alarm on the clock and lay back in bed. My wife Sharon kissed me gently on the forehead, then rose from the bed to get the paper and make the morning coffee. By the time I entered the kitchen, she had the front page spread out in her hands and was half way through her first cup. "Morning, Sweetheart", I said as I reached over and kissed her on the top of her head. I poured myself a cup and started reading the travel section. Our fifth anniversary was coming up next month and it was my job as the man of the house to come up with a romantic getaway.

As my eyes scanned the pages, I was drawn to a beautiful photograph of an exotic Pacific Island. The picture depicted complex volcanic rock formations that rose high above azure waters lapping against a fantasy beach. Below the photograph was a description of a recently constructed island resort on an unspoiled Pacific island coast. I called the phone number in the ad for the color brochure and it arrived several days later.

According to the brochure, the resort consisted of seven isolated luxury bungalows nestled on the edge of a verdant tropical forest. I reviewed the various packages, and decided to reserve a two week stint starting two days before our actual anniversary.

The day of our departure arrived and we went to the airport. As I waited in line to board the airplane, I took pleasure in the scenery my wife's body afforded me. I glanced around the waiting room jealously, watching for any man who dared to trespass on my property. Not that I would have blamed them. Standing at only five foot six inches, she possessed an attractive compact body with nicely shaped legs, a tight waist, elegant shoulders and neck, and a very cute face. I put my arm around her shoulder, squeezed her to me, and kissed her on the forehead. The difference in our heights was such that the top of her head fell just below my nose. Compared to my height of six foot one inches, she looked like a half grown child to me. It always gave me a feeling of super iority to have this tiny woman standing at my side, ready to do my bidding the way a proper wife should.

After a very long flight we landed in Fiji, where we boarded a two engined prop driven seaplane would fly us the remainder of the way to the resort island. Waiting in line with us were six other young couples whose destination was the same as ours. We chatted amicably with our traveling companions and compared our impressions of the island resort in a desultory fashion to pass the time. After an hour of waiting for the plane to debark the passengers and luggage from an earlier island hop and the inevitable refueling of the plane, the stewardess announced that the plane was ready to board. We paired off into couples to board the plane and took our seats. The plane took off and we flew over vast expanses of empty blue ocean.

Gradually, out of the haze of the horizon, a string of small islands appeared and the plane began its long descent. As we lost altitude, the main island appeared in a splash of green in the cabin window. It was more beautiful than the photo in the brochure, something had been lost in this magical place's capture to film. The sales information had described a picturesque collage of green forests, lakes, and mountains. The reality of this place was something vastly different. I was both awestruck by this island's magnificent splendor and saddened by the thought that this virgin island had fallen to exploitation by profiteers.

The plane landed and maneuvered down the runway. Though the window we could see about forty young natives dressed in elegant white dress uniforms. As we climbed down the stair a courtly western man stepped forward and warmly welcomed us in an Australian accent, "Greetings, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Motu Taiohi! We have prepared a little reception for all of you, and hope you will join us."

We followed him into a long wooden structure with a thatched roof. Arranged on a long table made of highly polished teak was a beautiful presentation of tropical fruits. I saw the usual papayas, bananas, coconuts, and pineapples grouped around bowls of the slightly more exotic star fruit and breadfruit. We picked up a plate and flatwear from the end of the table and continued our inspection of the buffet. Serving bowls with samples of each fruit sat next to their display piece and we helped ourselves. Some of the fruit on the table I had never seen before. One fruit resembled a large kiwi on the outside, but had a moist, sweet mango-like interior that exuded a spicy aroma. I tasted it and thought it was okay, but I wasn't particularly impressed. Sharon however, thought it tasted delicious. "Mmmmm, this fruit is wonderful! I wonder if we could get this back home?", mused Sharon as she finished off her third piece.

After the reception was over, the natives loaded our luggage unto a jeep for the trip to our bungalow. I was struck by an odd observation as I watched the natives carry our baggage; the native men on this island seemed to all be younger and smaller than the women! I roughly judged the women to be about five foot nine inches. The men however, were all much shorter than Sharon's height. Most of them barely passed the five foot mark and had every appearance of being about thirteen to fourteen years old. It looked as if all the teenaged boys in the village were here loading our baggage with their mothers!

After they finished loading up, we boarded our jeep for the one hour drive to our bungalow. We drove through some of the most beautiful scenery that I have ever seen. The mountainous contours of the terrain had been hidden from the view of the plane by the lush jungle. We traveled up and down hills and snaked our way through torturous curves cut in the volcanic tuft. On either side of the road jungle plants grew in profusion, threatening to reclaim their turf at any moment. As we rounded the last switchback curve in the road that climbed a tall volcanic peak, our bungalow appeared in a clearing in the lush underbrush. As soon as our guide turned off the engine on the jeep, we could hear a tumult of distant sounds from the birds in the jungle below us.

The bungalow had a low plantation style design with white painted clapboards and louvered doors. The windows were shaded by top-hinged louvered sun and storm screens that were propped open with bamboo poles. On the corner of the roof a small microwave dish pointed up at the Pacific sky. I decided that it must be a satellite telephone dish from the tiny size and saw that other technological innovations had been added also. Along the side of the house was a double array of solar cells and huge solar water heater. Behind the array and further up the mountain was a small concrete building which I took to be the battery and generator house. No wonder the two week stay here had cost me a fortune! This place was done right!

We got out of the jeep and stretched our legs while the guide unloaded our baggage onto the bungalow's verandah. Sharon and I mounted the stairs and turned to see the view our bungalow afforded us. It was magnificent! A vast expanse of jungle covered hills lay below us, opening up to a view of the Pacific Ocean. A gentle breeze from the sea easily cleared the lesser peaks and brought us the aroma of exotic jungle orchids that blossomed somewhere in the jungle below. As our young guide fumbled for his keys to the louvered doors, I noticed that we had a thick bored tree within a few feet of our bungalow whose boughs were filled with the exotic fruit that Sharon liked so much. I pointed the tree out to my wife and said, "Look sweetheart, it looks like you're in luck!"

We entered the bungalow and were immediately impressed with its appointments. The room was simply and elegantly decorated in wicker and white fabric and equipped with all the modern conveniences. The walls were decorated in an island motif with mounted Polynesian ceremonial masks constructed of native woods. A VCR stood on a stand next to the TV in front of a bookcase with a respectable collection of recent video releases. I looked over the titles quickly, finding a nice sampling of action and comedy as well as some adult movies. On either side of the video collection stood bookshelves filled with the latest best sellers as well as some old favorites. There was even a collection of CDs for the audiophile!

A manual for the operation of the electric start diesel generator and battery inverters sat on the dining table next to a colorful guidebook to Motu Taiohi. I decided to read the maintenance manual after we had unpac ked. I picked up the guidebook and leafed through it, hoping to find some clue to the nightlife on the island. There was none. Obviously they expected us to spend the entire time in the bungalow. I glanced at the history and culture section of the guidebook and read that the natives spoke a patois that was a mixture of Maori and Samoan. Apparently they were not really native to the island, but relatively recent immigrants brought in by the Australian government as laborers. I noted with some interest a picture of the tree which produced the fruit that Sharon liked so much. The text said that the tree was sacred to Fakahotu, the Polynesian Goddess of Motherhood and Children and was used to make ceremonial masks for fertility rites. The book went on to say that Fakahotu was the patron goddess of the island and was held in great reverence by the islanders. "Mother Goddess, indeed!", I thought to myself. I found the fatuous beliefs of ignorant savages too silly to contemplate and turned to a description of the islander's fishing techniques. I quickly bored of the culture lesson and put the book down to look at the rest of the bungalow.

I peeked through one of the back windows to try and see where the Jacuzzi advertized in the brochure was located and noted with approval that there was a large satellite dish further up the mountain. I made a quick tour of the kitchen and saw it was equipped with a Vulcan oven, two large refrigerators and a deep freeze as well as a fully stocked bar. This place was fabulous! I saw a communications center at the corner of the room with a two-way shortwave radio and desktop computer that I presumed was connected to the small microwave dish mounted on the corner of the roof. I tried to tip the guide, but he graciously refused. He simply bowed and said in the only English I think he knew; "Have a wonderful time. I will be back in two weeks." Once he got into the jeep however, he grinned at me and said something like, "Faamslslava ko hungahunga!" and then drove away.

"What did he say, Sweetheart?", Sharon asked as I stepped back in the bungalow.

"I don't know. There was a small dictionary of the native dialect in the guidebook. Wait a minute and I'll look it up," I replied, picking up the book and thumbing to the language section.

I found the two words that he seemed to have said, but the combination didn't make any sense. The first word, "Faamslslava" was Samoan for congratulations and the second, "ko hungahunga" was Maori and meant infant or baby. He seemed to be saying, "Congratulations Baby!" or perhaps "Congratulations on your new baby!", but neither statement made any sense in the context in which it was used. I decided that the phrase must be idiomatic and meant as an expression of good luck.

Sharon saddled up to me and asked, "Did you find out what it means, Sweetheart?"

"I think it's an idiom. Directly translated it means "Congratulations Baby!" or something like that. I think it must be the native phrase for "Good luck!"

Are you sure that's what it means?", Sharon asked.

"Well, it could mean "Congratulations on your new baby!", but that didn't make any sense either. Like I said, it must be idiomatic," I replied.

"Maybe he was wishing us luck on making a new baby," Sharon said thoughtfully.

"Could be," I said, growing bored with the discussion. I turned away and went to unpack our bags, leaving Sharon to ponder the nuances of the native idiom.

"Come here, Baby," my wife cooed to me with her arms outstretched.

I embraced and kissed her enthusiastically, hoping to inaugurate our arrival with some afternoon delight. Sharon abruptly pulled away from me, saying, "Excuse me, but I'm horribly thirsty," and poured herself a large glass of water.

Sharon stared out the window at the mystery fruit while drinking the water. The fruit seemed to have some attraction for her that wasn't readily apparent. After she finished the glass, she went out and brought in some of the fruit. As she passed by me, I noted that her breasts seemed larger than they had when we stood at the airport. They seemed ready to pop out of the top of her sun dress at a moment's notice. She came up to me, groped my crotch and said lustily, "I want some of this!"





I had never seen her like this, but boy did I like it! I decided that the fruit must have some kind of aphrodisiac effect on Sharon to make her so horny. We moved into the bedroom where she slipped her dress over her head and dropped it on the floor languidly. I licked my lips in anticipation as I watched her disrobe and thought, "God, her breasts must be at least a size larger than the "C" cup bra that she's wearing."





Her tongue entered my mouth like a serpent questing for food. Then she unfastened her bra, slipped the straps off of her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She put her hand underneath her right breast, raising it for my inspection. I bent over her breast and gave it a quick kiss while staring at the changes in my wife's teats. The aureole had doubled in size and darkened in color as if she was nursing. I saw that the tip of her nipple had the slight upward tilt to it that indicated it was fully erect. I bent down to kiss the tips of the nipples and she placed one of the enlarged nipples into my mouth for me to sample.

I sucked tentatively, causing a jet of hot milk to gush into my mouth. I was suddenly struck with an intense desire to suckle her breast and I began to suck in earnest. My efforts were rewarded with a stream of delicious milk that started to trickle into my mouth. I swallowed the milk involuntarily and was seized with an unimaginable orgasmic rush. The sensation radiated from every tissue that had contact with her incredible milk. I could feel waves of pleasure surging from mouth and stomach and making my whole body tingle as if I had ingested a euphoric drug!

We melted into the bed and she slipped her panties off and dropped them on the floor next to her dress and bra. She turned me on my back and straddled me in the female superior position. We rocked to and fro passionately until I reached a crescendo of ecstasy and orgasmed. I sighed in fulfillment and immediately passed out in exhaustion. My sleep was so deep and peaceful that I felt like I was floating on a cloud.

We awoke the next morning at eleven feeling wonderful. I looked at my wife and said, "Sharon,....last night was the most incredible night I have ever experienced!"

"Mine too," she replied with a self-satisfied smile.

She arose from the bed, put on a bathrobe and went to the kitchen to make some coffee while I lay back and considered the events of the night before. I sat up with great difficulty and started to get dressed. After putting on my briefs, I put on a pair of khaki shorts. I was a little surprised to discover that both the briefs and shorts felt a bit looser than usual. I was pleased to see that my diet was starting to show results at last. However, when I put on my loafers, I noticed that they too were loose. I pushed the shoe back towards my heel and observed that there was about a quarter inch of play between my foot and the shoe. "Hmmmm," I said to myself as I got up from the bed, "The shorts I can understand, but the shoes? Something isn't quite right!"

Sharon returned back to the room and started to get dressed. She put on a similar pair of shorts and a white cotton shirt. I stared at her chest trying to find some evidence of the change which seemed to be affecting me. Her breasts seemed to have returned to normal. If it had not been for my shoes, I would have passed the entire experience off to the excitement of the trip. She sat down to put on a pair of walking shoes and she walked over to me, saying, "Hey Lover! Are you ready for part two?"

"Maybe a little later, Sweetheart. I'd like to get some breakfast first. I burned up a lot of calories last night," I replied.

I started to pass by her on my way to the kitchen and stopped to stare at her figure. I had the impression that something wasn't right, but I couldn't quite put my finger on the difference. Then it struck me, it was her height. She seemed to have grown ever so slightly during the night. "Strange," I thought as I looked down at her. For years I have been accustomed to looking over the top of her head even when she wore high heels. I could swear her head and shoulders looked a little higher than normal.

During the day, Sharon must have eaten several pounds of the mystery fruit. And as the day progressed, I could swear her breasts were slowly but surely enlarging. She developed a great new habit of fondling my genitals whenever she could. That afternoon after my shower, I found her watching one of the adult videotapes. "Funny," I thought, "She hates porno!"

As I passed she raised her head up to look at me and I caught a glimpse of her huge breasts. "I hope you don't mind me not wearing a top, sweetheart," she said, "It seems nothing I brought fits me around my bust."

I moved up to kiss her and immediately fixated on her breasts like some sort of sexual deviate. I tunneled my head into her bosom, nuzzling and kissing her in a frenzy of sexual lust. We rolled on the carpet kissing and biting each other passionately. Sharon and I moved to the bedroom and continued our afternoon frolic in our bed. Soon we were at it again, lunging and diving at each other in an incredible sexual melee. She teased me by keeping her teats just out of my reach as I strove to get one of her nipples into my hungry mouth. I almost wept in relief when she lifted one of her breasts to my face and said, "Come here, Darling. My breasts are so full that they hurt. Please relieve the pressure."

My lips latched onto her nipple and I sucked with a hunger that seemed to come from the depths of my soul. I was out of control, I sucked on the nipple waiting for the heavenly nectar to flood my mouth and ease the craving that was driving me. And flood it did. Unlike the paltry swallows of the night before, she was emptied entire mouthfuls of milk into me. I swallowed every precious drop in an rapture of delectation. Once again, the strange orgasm raged through every cell of my body. It was so powerful that I passed out before I entered Sharon.

The next morning we awoke in each others arms. "I love you so much, my dear," Sharon whispered in my ear.

I hugged her tightly, feeling her warm body against mine as she nibbled my ear and said, "How about a nice tropical fruit cocktail, this morning, my prince?"

"Hey, now that sounds like a great idea!", I said.

Sharon jumped out of bed and stretched joyfully in a display of youthful exuberance. "God, she looks beautiful!", I thought as watched her go to the dresser to get dressed. She opened her drawer and pulled out a clean pair of khaki shorts.

I opted for a pair of old blue jeans I brought and was surprised at the baggy fit. The pant legs seemed too long too, they bunched up at the top of my shoes like they were an older brother's hand-me-downs. When I sat down, I reached for my old, comfortable topsiders and found them to be at least a size too large. I decided to wear them anyway and stood up waiting for her to finish dressing. But the greatest shock came when my wife stood up next to me after putting on her sandals. After five years of married life, I was cognizant of our relative sizes. She looked like she was at least two to three inches taller than me in her flat sandals! My forehead was now at her eye level. A puzzled look came across her face as she too noticed this strange alteration in me.

"Sharon, something is wrong here," I said, "You look taller, bigger, and my clothes seem too large."

"That's impossible, Tim. You must be tired," she replied.

I looked her over and decided that her proportions seemed right, but she still looked larger than I did. "Sharon," I ordered, "Take off your shoes and stand up against the wall."

"What are you going to do?", she said as she complied. I made a light pencil mark at the top of her head. Then I asked Sharon to do the same to me. I measured her first and discovered that she stood at five-foot six-inches, exactly the same as she always was!

I measured my line and was shocked to find that I measured five-foot nine-inches! "Honey, I've gotten smaller since we arrived here!", I said with some agitation.

"But how?", she asked, "I don't understand how that is possible!"

"I don't know, but it's true," I replied, "Unfortunately, there is no way for us to see a doctor until next week. Look, let's just enjoy ourselves, when we get back we can look into what's happened to me."

Actually, I kind of liked the novelty of having a wife that was the same height as myself. I'd always longed to make love to a woman my size and now my wish had come true. Albeit in a somewhat disturbing way. We embraced and kissed standing up. Her ability to meet my lips without having to stretch made me extremely horny. Our pelvises met for the first time in our married lives standing up. She put her hand on my buttocks and pulled me in tight. Our thighs rubbed together, increasing my desire to point of explosion. I pulled her to the bed and she said, "Not now, Hon. Why don't we do this a little bit latter in the afternoon?"

She pulled away and walked into the kitchen swinging her hips in feminine triumph. I took a cold shower to ease the pain in my testicles that my unsatisfied lust had given me. When finished, I found Sharon watching another one of the adult tapes. To her left was an empty bowls that had been filled with the mystery fruit the night before. When she heard me enter the room, she rose and turned to meet me. Her breasts were enormous! They were easily a forty-four "E"!

"Come here, Lover," she called.

Although I had begun to suspect that the fruit was responsible for her breast growth and my shrinking, I could not resist. I gathered her in my arms and passionately kissed her. She moved my head gently to her breasts and said, "You know what to do, my love."

I suckled her breasts with an addict's desperation. Apparently the fruit was affecting her too; she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and moaned in sexual ecstasy. Then she started to gently massage my crotch. As the milk started flowing into my mouth, the room appeared to spin. We both became one as my suckling and her nursing melded into a single act. I sucked ravenously as the warm milk filled my belly with unearthly pleasure. Sharon removed her left breast from my mouth and inserted her other breast. I continued sucking like a baby and barely noticed when I orgasmed in my pants. The pleasure from the milk was greater than any sexual release I had ever known. I never wanted it to stop. My lips moved and I continued to suck even as my eyes closed and I drifted away from the world.

Again we passed out in each others arms. A deep and restful sleep followed. It was not until next afternoon that I slowly started to awake. I was in a daze. Sharon was still asleep as I hugged her body. I then noticed that my feet only reached down to the bottom of her calves. Her hands seemed much larger than mine. "Oh, my God!", I thought in panic, "Has the process continued?"

She turned in her sleep and smiled luxuriantly in the way that only perfectly satisfied women can. I could feel the weight of her body depress the surface of the mattress while I only made a slight indentation. Slowly her eyelids opened, revealing the bright blue eyes that gazed on me with obvious affection. She grasped my hands and brought them to her mouth to kiss. Then she appeared to notice how small my hands had gotten and said with some concern in her voice, "How did you sleep, Honey?"

"Great," I replied, trying to hide my apprehension. I pulled my feet away from her body, embarrassed that my shrinking had made me smaller than her.

"You know, I feel like having one of those great omelets you make. Why don't you make one for us?", she said enthusiastically.

"Okay," I replied. I dreaded hopping out of bed and exposing my diminished stature, but what was I to do? I jumped out and quickly reached for my bathrobe. "My God, the hem almost touches the floor!", I thought as I ran from the room. Sharon rolled over to get a glimpse of me, but I left the room too quickly for her to see what had happened to me.

I heard her get up and walk toward the kitchen as I started making the omelets. She came up behind me and I turned to tell her good morning. Neither of us was ready for what we saw. Sharon had either grown or I had shrunk significantly during the night. She was now taller than me by a good three inches. I was embarrassed, but also incredibly turned on by my big wife. "My Lord, you're tiny!" my wife said in disbelief. "Come here, I want to measure you!"

Now it was she that wanted to know how big I was. I had to stand on a chair to draw a line above her head and when she measured it with her tape, she found that she was still the same. Whereas when she marked the wood above my head and measured it, she discovered that I was only five foot five! "I can't believe it!", I cried.

"Oh, it's true alright," she said as rolled up her cloth measuring tape and approached me. I felt a little intimidated by her towering form. She draped her long arms over my shoulder and kissed me on my forehead, saying, "You know, this could be a lot of fun if you'd just relax and accept things as they are!"

"How about another round?", she whispered into my ear, which was now just slightly below her mouth.

"Look, Honey, I can't afford to shrink anymore. I'm now just a little under average height. Any more and I don't know what will happen," I said with some trepidation.

"Maybe this is all you'll shrink," she replied.

"Maybe, but I think that fruit is affecting us both. It's making your breasts fill with milk and your milk is making me shrink," I countered, "All I'm saying is let's hold off on the hanky-panky until we can see a doctor."

She embraced me and asked seductively, "You mean to tell me that you're going to stop making passionate love to your wife?"

"Honey, I have to, unless I want to work for Barnum and Bailey! I think it would also be a good idea if you stop eating that fruit."

"What! No! I love that stuff!", she replied indignantly.

The rest of the day she was very difficult. She gave me the silent treatment all day as if I had beaten her the night before. I would have slapped her around a bit, but I was afraid of what she might do to me in my present condition. I was watching a documentary on birds when she brought in some coffee that evening. "Oh thanks, Sweetheart," I said, looking at the coffee pot.

She served me a cup and asked sweetly, "Cream and sugar, Darling?"

"Yeah," I replied, surprised at her change in attitude. I raised the cup to my lips and took a sip. I had been a little suspicious of the can of exotic island coffee that I found in the kitchen earlier, but I was pleased to find out that I had been wrong. It was excellent! I noticed that Sharon had even been able to dig up a can of goat's milk like I used at home as a creamer. I had two more cups of the marvelous stuff and heaved a sigh of satisfaction while looking out the window at the jungle below. A few minutes later I felt the stirrings of that incredibly orgasmic sensation return to me as an enormous erection swelled in my pants. "I've been tricked!", I thought in panic.

Sharon came over to the sofa to see the results of her scheme. She smiled when she saw the bulge in my shorts produced by my erection and said, "I think you're ready for another round, aren't you, Darling?"

My bewildered expression betrayed my enslavement to effects of her milk. I sat helplessly as my wife straddled me and opened her bathrobe to reveal her fantastically enlarged breasts. She took my hands in hers and lifted them to her chest as she said, "Come to Moma, Baby!"

I reached up to give them a gentle squeeze and a small trickle of milk dripped from her bounteous teats, bewitching me with its spell. When she pulled my head to her bosom, I could not resist. I was drawn to her chest as if it was a magnet.

"No, no, no!", I whimpered around her nipple as I suckled. Sharon laughed scornfully at my predicament. It was obvious that she enjoyed her new found power over me. This time the milk was thicker, richer, and sweeter. Jolts of pleasure shot through my body as I gulped down her milk. As I continued to suck, I realized that something was wrong! Instead of her breast getting smaller and lighter as I drew the milk from her body into my own, it felt like her breast was getting heavier! Her nipple seemed to writhe in my mouth and become bigger as I sucked. I glanced up and noticed my wife seemed larger than she had a few minutes before. I looked at her teats and saw that they WERE smaller than they had been before I started nursing! It was me! I was the one who was c hanging! Her breast crawled beneath my fingers as my hand continued to shrink. "My God," I thought, "I'm shrinking before her eyes!"

When I awoke the next evening, I found myself tied spread-eagled on the bed. Sharon was watching me, waiting for me to awake. She climbed on the bed and straddled my hips with her knees, imprisoning me easily under her crotch. I put a hand down on her thigh to push her off and saw that my hand only covered a small portion of her leg. I craned my head forward and saw that her thighs were almost as big around as my waist! I looked up at the enormous breasts that hung over me and thought, "Oh my God, she's huge!"

She smiled down at me in a superior fashion and asked, "Timmy, do you know how big you are now?"

"What are you doing? Are you crazy?", I demanded.

"You're five foot even!", she said with a triumphant grin.

"Sweetheart, untie me please!", I pleaded.

"No. I'm afraid you'll run away. You're much too little to go running around in the forest alone," she said sarcastically.

I decided that the fruit was affecting her sanity as well as the size of her bust. She ran her long nailed finger up my chest and said gloatingly, "I want to see how small I can make you!"

She then began to untie me, grabbing my wrists and forcing them behind my back. I resisted, but it was obvious there was no contest between my reduced body and hers. As I stood up from the bed, I was startled to see that my eye level was only as high as her nipples. "Up against the wall, Cutiepie!", she commanded.

She made a mark at my head level. I was amazed that she actually had to stoop down a little to make the mark. "Oh my, my love," she exclaimed in mock surprise, "You better eat your Wheatees! You're barely five feet t all!"

"Oh God," I stammered, "I'm a fucking midget!"

"How's the weather down there?", laughed my wife cruelly.

She pressed me against the wall with her body and lifted her breasts to my mouth. All I could see was an expanse of soft feminine skin and curves that I found incredibly alluring and terrifying at the same time. "Suck, Baby! Come on, suck! Suck my titty!", she commanded.

"Sweetheart, please, no! This is insane!", I quailed in fear.

"Shutup and suck, little boy!", she ordered, "Do you remember when I had a headache last month and didn't want to make love with you? Do you remember the black eye you gave me? Do you remember making me get on my knees in front of you and beg you for your forgiveness? Instead of answering you unzipped your pants and made me suck your cock until you said to stop! It's my turn now, you little bastard, and you're going to do as I tell you! Do you understand me? Now suck!"

She pressed harder against my body with hers and I found it was getting hard to breathe. She looked down into my face and husked, "If you don't suck my tits, I'm gonna spank you!"

Then she held my nostrils together, forcing me to open my mouth to catch a breath. At my first gasp she inserted her immense tit into my mouth and said, "If you bite, I swear I'll spank you until you can't sit for a week! Now suck!"

Again I tried to resist, but it was all so incredibly erotic. I began sucking in absolute terror of what she might do to me if I stopped. "That's a good boy. Suck Moma's titty and everything will be alright," responded my wife in satisfaction as I pulled her nipple deep into my mouth.

The milk was so thick this time it was almost pasty. I felt the rush overwhelming me with a wave of ecstasy that was even stronger than the last time. To my amazement, I immediately started shrinking after the first swallow. My wife kept me pressed against the wall with her body as I shrank, but as my size diminished, she was forced to squat down to keep me imprisoned.

By the time my wife had to switch tits, she had to kneel to keep her breasts at my mouth level. With her left hand, she held my head to her bosom. By this time I was beyond any semblance of sanity. My continued existence was meaningless to me. All that was important was to fill the aching hunger that gnawed at my entrails. Milk flowed through her nipple in a steady stream as I continued to dwindle. Eventually, everything went black and I collapsed.

When I awoke early the next day, the morning doldrums had stilled the evening breeze and the room was filled with an almost palpable miasma of fetid vegetation that had risen from hidden tidal swamps at the base of the mountain. I opened my eyes to see what had died in the room and found that my head was almost lost in the huge pillow I had been sleeping on. I rolled over and got up on my hands and knees to look at the pillow more closely. I soon discovered that the pillow was the same one I had been sleeping on since our arrival. Its proportions were exactly the same as they had been before, but my frame of reference had changed. I measured it with my hands and it was roughly twice the size it had been before. That meant that my hands were roughly half their n ormal size! I turned around and saw that the bed seemed enormous in comparison to my shrunken body.

I wanted to cry, but I was afraid that Sharon would come in and see me weeping like a child. I may have shrunk to the size of a midget, but I was still a man. I had no intention of letting my wife see me act like a weakling. I slid out of bed slowly, trying not to fall as my toes searched for the floor. I tried to put on my briefs, but they were hopelessly big. Even when I tied a knot in the front they just fell off my sadly reduced body. I resigned myself to walking around naked until they came to pick us up. As I walked across the wooden floor, I came across my old shoes and was amazed by their immense size. I could scarcely believe that just five days ago I wore them.

Sharon popped out of the bathroom looking perky and pleased with herself. As she approached me, I saw that she looked like a giant from my perspective. I could hardly believe it. Seeing her standing over me was both erotic and terrifying. I was no taller than her navel! Her legs seemed as big as all of me. "Did my baby sleep well, Honeybunch?", she smiled.

She bent over slightly and said in a cooing voice that I knew was meant to be insulting, "What's wrong, Darling? Where are your clothes? Don't they fit you anymore? Poor dear! Moma's going to have to find something for you to wear. Let's see, my clothes are too big for you and you couldn't possibly wear your old clothes now. What if I took a bath towel and pinned it around your waist like a diaper?"

I could not speak. Memories of standing naked in front of my mother like this long ago made me want to crawl under the bed and hide. The last time I appeared in front of my mother naked in the house she had told me that only babies paraded around in the altogether and she had diapered me forthwith. I was seven years old at the time and found the entire experience humiliating. She made me spend the next three days wearing nothing but a diaper and refused to let me use the toilet until the punishment was over. When my mother invited her friends over to coffee and introduced me as her baby boy, I wanted to die. I saw now that the machismo way I treated women was only a mask to cover the anxiety I still felt in the presence of women. I'd never realized before now that the reason I married a smaller woman was the fear I still held for my mother. I never got over the sight of her standing over me with a diaper and plastic pants in hand and beckoning to me with her long finger to come and get my dirty diaper changed. I looked up into my wife's face and saw the same domineering expression I had seen on my mother in my childhood. I shivered as I realized that Sharon's teasing might be serious! If I said or did the wrong thing, I might find myself wearing diapers!

I looked up at Sharon's towering figure and thought, "This can't be happening! Sharon's my wife, not my mother! I'm a grown man, not a seven year old. She can't be bigger than me and she can't diaper me! This is all some sort of horrible nightmare!"

She smiled condescendingly and said, "Come here, Baby! I want to see how small you are." I just stood there, frozen in fear. She repeated her command, saying, "Come on, Darling. Don't be shy."

She put her hand behind my back and pushed me up against the wall. Then she twisted me around with both hands on my shoulders and held my head in place with one hand while she marked the top of my head with the other. Memories of my mother marking my growth against the kitchen doorframe flashed through my mind. "This is humiliating!", I thought in dismay, "She intends to check off every inch of growth that I've had since childhood on the wall and gloat over each lost inch."

Sharon chuckled at the measurement on the tape and said, "Wow, a full four feet tall! What a big boy you are! And look, your beard and pubic hair vanished while you were sleeping. And look at your poor little penie! You won't be able to do much with that! It's only a little boy's wee-wee! You're not only smaller, you've gotten younger! From the looks of you, you can't be older than seven years old!"

She removed the bedsheet that she had tied around herself as a makeshift sarong. Standing on her tip toes, she brought her crotch to my mouth level. "Come on baby, please Moma!"

What could I do? My "equipment" had become too small to use to make love to her! There was only one thing I could do to please my giant wife and she waited for me to act, expecting the solution she knew I had to reach. I licked the hairy bush in front of me. Sharon grabbed my head with both hands and forced my head into her crotch. I could barely breathe! My only escape was to satisfy her lust and I did my utmost with my tongue to please her. She writhed in pleasure, stroking the hair on my head with her left hand, while her right hand held my hand fast against her pelvis. As I looked up, I could see that her breasts had started to grow.

She chuckled at the expression of fear on my face and said, "I like you this size! When you were bigger, you'd never do this for me. It wasn't manly enough for you!"

She giggled and said, "Maybe I'll keep you this way. If you're good, I'll let you do this for me three or four times a day! Hmmmm, I'll have to come up with something that you can wear in front of my friends. How about a nice frilly feminine dress? Maybe a satin baby doll dress with a skirt that stops at your little bottom! I could buy you some nice pink panties with lace on them so everyone could see what a cute little tush you have now! The satin dress would feel good against my legs when you go down on me! Something with lots of ribbons, lace and bows, perhaps? Oh dear! I see by your expression that you don't like that idea very much, do you? Well, what you think doesn't matter anymore now that you're not a man! You're only Moma's little boy-toy now and you'll do as you're told!"

She looked down at her breast and felt the need to release the pressure in them once more. Sharon said, "Oh Dear! It looks like my breasts have filled up with milk again. I can't have that, can I? I guess I'll have to forgo the pleasure of keeping you as my sex toy. Too bad, I guess you'll have to shrink some more!"

She stooped down and picked me up by the armpits. My feet dangled a couple of feet in the air helplessly as she held me effortlessly in front of her. I couldn't believe that she was doing this to me. She carried me to the living room and sat on the sofa. Placing me on her thigh with my legs across her lap, she proceeded to put her tit in my mouth. I looked down at my thigh and saw that compared to her thigh, mine was like that of a small child. When I looked straight ahead, my field of vision was almost completely covered by her gigantic tit. Slowly the milk started flowing again. We still had a few days left before they came to pick us up. "How small will I get?", I wondered in terror.

I tugged on her nipple in a vain attempt to empty her teat, but there was more milk than I could humanly drink. Her enormous breasts held more milk than my reduced stomach could hold. I felt the skin on the back of my legs slip over her thighs as my knees were drawn back across her legs. My shoulders began sliding down her chest and I watched her nipples rise higher and higher above me as I dwindled in size. She brought her hand down to steady me and keep me from falling from my perch on her thigh. I glanced at the hand that was holding my arm and thought, "My God, she can wrap her fingers completely around my bicep!"

She grabbed my other bicep and picked me up, raising me up to her face. I pulled at her fingers with all my might. She squeezed harder, hurting my arms. "Koooshi, Kooooosshi, Gooooo!", she laughed, "I wonder if you're still potty trained? You don't look any older than three. I guess I better do something about that before you pee all over Mama's lap!"

She swung me over her hip and carried me to the bathroom where she got a small hand towel and some safety pins from her sewing kit. Then she carried me back and lay me on the bed where she folded the towel into a diaper to pin on my tiny waist.

After she diapered me, she held me in her arms and made motherly cooing noises at me. I squirmed in her arms trying to get free, but she was too strong for me. She laughed at my efforts and said as she put her hand underneath one of her breasts and lifted it to my lips, "Poor little baby! You look hungry! Let mommy give you some tiddy so you'll grow up to be big and strong so you can tower over some poor woman and beat her when things don't go your way!"

I tried to move my head away from her enormous tit, but she pulled it back easily and said, "Don't be naughty baby or mommy will have to give her little boy a spanking!"

She put the nipple next to my mouth and pushed down on the top, causing milk to squirt out and enter my mouth. I cried and peed in my diaper in fear as the lust for her milk overtook me and I began to suckle. I felt myself shrinking in her arms and pulled my mouth free of her tit and began to bawl like an infant. I couldn't speak! She cuddled me to her breasts and said, "There, there, little one. Everything's alright. Mommy will take care of you. You'll be the little baby mommy has always wanted. You'll never have to work again. Mommy will tell them that you were swimming off the reef and she saw a shark fin in the water and you just disappeared. Everyone will think a shark ate you, and I'll get your life insurance. I'll get double indemnity for you being eaten by a shark. Oh look! Mommy's titties are getting smaller! I guess mommy's baby won't be getting any younger. He have to stay just the way he is, for the rest of his life."

The room swam around me and went black. The next morning I awoke and found myself back in Seattle. I looked at my hands in confusion as the cobwebs of sleep cleared from my brain and saw that they were normal sized. It had all been a dream! I could hear my wife in the kitchen making coffee. I did a quick set of pushups, put my bathrobe over my pajamas and walked to the kitchen. She looked at me and said, "Oh good, you're up. Darling, could you get the sugar down for me? I don't know why you put things up on the top shelf, you know I can't reach them."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sweetheart," I said contritely.

I sat down at the table and picked up the paper. "Oh my God!", I thought as I saw the date on the paper. It was our anniversary and I had forgotten to buy her anything! The dream I had was a warning from my subconscious about my memory lapse. I decided that I would go out shopping after I finished the paper and get her something nice and then take her out to dinner that night. I saw that she had the paper folded back at some ads for a baby sale. "Going shopping?", I asked.

She smiled and said, "A friend of mine has a new baby. As a matter of fact, several friends of mine have new babies. It's too bad we couldn't have one!"

I tossed down my juice and then emptied the glass goat's milk I have every morning for breakfast before wolfing down my fruit cocktail. Everything tasted a little strange, even the milk, but it was our anniversary so I decided not to make an issue of it. Women have to be disciplined occasionally or they forget who's boss, but a real man knows when to ignore his wife's lapses. "Oh Darling," she said, "I was wondering if you minded whether we had a baby shower here? We thought we could have a shower for all my friends with new babies at once. Of course you're invited."

"Thanks for inviting me, but I'd rather not go. Go ahead and have your baby shower here if that's what you want," I told her.

She frowned and looked disappointed, saying, "But you must come! I've promised everyone that you'd be there. You're going to be the guest of honor!"

"Guest of honor?", I asked, "Why would you women want me as the guest of honor at your baby shower?"

"It's a surprise," she said with a broad smile, "You'll understand when we have the party. Shall I tell them you're coming?"

"I'll think about it," I grumped.

My answer seemed to satisfy her because she quickly changed the subject and said, "Darling, here's a neat ad in the paper about some new resort in an uncharted island. How about going there next year for our anniversary getaway?"

It was obvious that she was trying to see if I had forgotten our anniversary, but I wasn't going to let her know that I had. I intended to go through the motions as if I had a surprise for her already planned. She has a childish fondness for surprises and I try to indulge her whenever it's possible. That stratagem has saved me a lot of grief in the past and I saw no reason why I shouldn't employ it here. I looked at the ad and saw the ad was about Motu Taiohi. I shivered as if someone had walked across my grave and said, "Sweetheart, I'm not one for tropical paradises. Why not Paris?"

"Paris," she answered, "that sounds wonderful! Still, I'd like to go to someplace exotic sometime. Just to try the food. You know strange fruits and vegetables that never seem to get off the islands. I got some the other day in the grocery store that the grocer said was from that island in the brochure, what's its name? Motu Taiohi, I think that was it. I ran it through the juicer and added it to the orange juice and put in the fruit cocktail that you ate. I was surprised that you didn't notice. The woman who managed the produce section in the grocery said the natives swear by it to develop women's breasts. I thought she was joking, but look at how big my breasts are this morning! There's something else that's funny about the fruit, I've started lactating. I remember what you've said in the past about wanting to try mother's milk if I ever got pregnant, so I substituted my milk for your goat's milk. Did you notice a difference?"

She walked over to me and stood in front of me expectantly. "My friends all tried the fruit and they said it had another effect too. Come here, Darling. I think I have something you want!"

I felt an enormous erection grow in my pants as she pulled her gown open and pressed her breasts against my face. I tried to scream as her tit filled my mouth and the milk began to squirt inside. The orgasm I had dreamed about was really happening! I spurted over and over into my pants as her ambrosial milk bathed my tongue and throat with its richness. Her nipple seemed to move upwards and grow in my mouth and I realized that I was shrinking! I had wondered why she was looking through the ads in the paper for baby goods. Now I knew why. I wished I hadn't beat her so hard in the past. It had been a long time since I was spanked and the prospect of being her baby terrified me. I could feel myself getting smaller in the chair as my stomach filled with the thick, creamy milk from her breasts.

The fantastic orgasms I was having stopped and were replaced by other almost equally ecstatic sensations in my anus and groin. I tried to concentrate and determine what was causing these delightful sensations when the warm feeling spread from my groin down the inside of my legs. I was peeing in my pants! A reek from my behind hit my nose and I realized that I had pooped in my pants as well!

Her nipple popped out of my mouth and I tried to plead with her to stop, "Pleasss...Susssa!...nooo!....dooonnn.....maaaaa...meeee...beee.,,,,baaa ....beee!....i..gurgla....gooo...maa..gaaaa!"

I couldn't speak! I was talking like a baby! This wasn't the slow regression of my dream, I was being immediately and completely regressed into infancy before my wife's eyes! Sharon replaced the nipple in my mouth and cut off any more attempts at speech. Then she moved a bit to get something out of the pocket of her gown and I caught a glimpse of a baby diaper she was unfolding over my head.

She stroked my hair and made mothering, cooing noises down at me while I suckled at her breast making loud sucking noises like an infant. I realized now why she had asked me to be the guest of honor at the baby shower. She was going to get the baby she had always wanted. Her friends must have regressed their husbands into infants too! She picked me up under the armpits, lifting me right out of my pajama pants and leaving them laying on my bathrobe draped on the kitchen chair as she cuddled me to her breasts. My pajama shirt now covered my entire body!

She cleared off a space on the kitchen table and lay me down on my back on the kitchen table. The stench from my dirty bottom reached my nose and almost made me gag; I stank! I was relieved when she gingerly removed my pajama shirt from my soiled bottom and took a damp dishrag to gently wipe my behind. Then she lifted my legs and slid the diaper she had prepared beneath me. Sharon opened a small paper bag with a rolled up top that had been sitting on the table unnoticed. She removed a jar of vaseline and a shaker bottle of baby powder and stood them beside me. Sharon opened the jar of vaseline and scooped out a dab on two fingers. Then she began to apply a thin coat to the skin around my genitals before she scooped out some more and put a thick coat to the skin between my buttocks. I squirmed a bit as she ran her finger high up in the area of my anus and slightly breached it's opening with her lubricated fingertips.

The vaseline made me feel....odd! The slippery lubricant made me feel like I had just pooped. She lowered my feet and let my bottom rest on the diaper while she dusted my crotch with a thin layer of baby powder. The fragrance of baby powder was overwhelming; the perfume of the diaper combined with the scent of the baby powder and left me surrounded by a cloud of sweet smelling perfume. My rank odor had been transformed into the gentle fragrance of freshly washed and diapered baby. She fastened the tapes on the side of the diaper and left me lying on the table while she rolled up my filthy pajama bottoms and sopping bathrobe into a ball and dumped it into a trash bag. Then she tied a knot in the top and tossed it in the kitchen garbage before returning to pick me up in her arms again. She arranged me so I was presented with a new breast and I began to suckle anew. I luxuriated in the secure feeling that her arms gave me as my lips pulled and tugged at her nipple.

When I finished feeding at her breast she sat down with me on the couch and cuddled me in the crook of her arm while she picked up the phone and called her best friend Joan. She was excited over my transformation and wanted to share her joy at having a baby of her own. She set the phone to speaker so that she could hold me with both arms while she talked. Sharon described in detail how I had shrunk in front of her and the look of terror in my eyes when she had laid me on the kitchen table and begun to diaper me. She stroked my head affectionately as she told the story of my rejuvenation and giggled when she told her best friend how pleased she was with the anniversary gift I had given her.

Sharon told her how I always forgot to get her an anniversary gift and had to rush out in secret and buy one. She said that I would tell her that her gift was a surprise and that she had to wait until I took her out to dinner to get it. This year she had decided to surprise me with a "special" gift of her own. It was too bad that I didn't like surprises, but she didn't think I would agree if I knew what she had planned for me. This year she planned to get something she really wanted instead of something I picked up at the drug store. Her giggles became full laughter when she told her friend that she had always wanted a baby and that I had made the ultimate sacrifice to give her one.

The breast feeding had stimulated my infant bowels and I found myself pooping in my diapers helplessly. I was mortified! I started fussing in distress and she reached in her pocket and produced a pacifier which she slipped between my lips. The muscles of my mouth reacted immediately and I began sucking before I knew it. She shifted me around on her lap and inadvertently smeared my bottom with the soft poop in my diaper. The pacifier made it impossible to cry, so I kicked my legs in frustration. She only smiled down at me and continued to tell Joan about her plans for me.

Sharon explained, "You know Marge, don't you Joan? She's one of the new mothers who's coming to the baby shower. She and her husband used to own a daycare center together. Of course, now that her husband's a baby, she's the only owner. I intend to enroll him in her daycare so I can get that job in advertising I interviewed for last week. While Mommy's at work, my little cupcake here will be spending his days in a daycare, wearing diapers and creeping on the floor on his hands and knees with the other babies at the center."

"How do you think he's going to react to having a bunch of strange women change his diapers?", I heard Joan ask.

Sharon said soberly, "Who cares? Maybe he'll like being fussed over! Besides, it's time he learned to live with the consequences of his actions. I'm tired of worrying about the big baby's feelings! He's only a little baby now and he's got to expect to have women putting their hand down the front of his diaper to see if he's wet or peeking into the rear of his diaper to see if he's pooped. I'm sure that after a while he'll just be glad someone is willing to change him. After his first case of dydee rash, poor little honeybunny won't think that sitting in a poopy dydee is much fun! It's too bad for him that he's never going to get any older. He'll be peeing and pooping in dydees until the day he dies." Sharon laughed and said, "I've spent all those years living with his shit, it's only just that he spend the rest of his life wearing dirty diapers and wallowing in it."

Sharon was reduced to helpless giggles when Joan quipped, "He probably enjoys making messes and raising a stink!"

Sharon said, "He'd better enjoy being a baby, because the effects of the milk are permanent. My friends and I are going to be our husbands' mommies for the rest of their lives. We've been planning to do this to them for a long time to keep our husbands from killing us. You see, Marge, Phyllis, Amy and I met in a women's support group and became friends. All of us had abusive husbands that beat us whenever they got drunk or had a bad day at work. We had formed an informal support group of our own so we could take care of each other when our husbands became violent. It got pretty bad at times. When Amy's husband lost his job, she had to be hospitalized three times in a six month period because her husband beat her up repeatedly. It was only a matter of time before one of us was killed by our husband. The police wouldn't do anything! They'd show up about an hour after we called them, fill out a form and that would be the end of it."

Sharon brightened as she told the next part of her story, "Phyllis and Amy found out about the fruit two years ago and told Marge and me. It was a godsend! We got together and discussed what would happen to us if we lost our husbands. We decided that anything was better than the hell we were living in and decided to regress them. We set up a special account at the bank and we've been saving to buy a case of it ever since. It had to be ordered through a special fruit importer and cost five thousand dollars to have flown in the country. We told the grocery manager that we were planning a gourmet party and that cost was no object. He just nodded and made us pay in advance. I'm sure he thought we were a bunch of rich women who had too much time on their hands and t oo much money. The fruit came in three days ago and I've been itching to try it. My friends changed their husbands into babies two days ago and I was waiting until our anniversary to change him. I felt it was only fitting that since he's spent our married life acting like an infant that I should end our marriage with his transformation into a baby five years to the day that I'd made the worst mistake of my life."

"I don't know if I would call it the worst mistake of your life," Joan replied, "After all, you've finally got the baby you wanted. It seems to me that he's the one who made the worst mistake of his life when he beat you!"

Sharon chuckled and said, "He won't be beating any women in his condition, that's for sure. The shoe is one the other foot now! If he's naughty, he'll find himself laying across my lap with his naked fanny in the air! He'll find out what it feels like to be spanked and not be able to do anything but cry about it. Come to think of it, it's probably what he really wants deep down inside. All his tantrums and misbehavior were really a plea for a dominant woman to give him some discipline. So I guess he's getting what he really wants in life too; a firm and loving mommy!"

Joan laughed and said, "Well, you know what they say; When a mother is done with raising her baby boy, she gives him to his wife to finish the job. If women had any sense, they'd never take males out of diapers. It would certainly reduce the number of cases of wife beating in this country. It's kind of hard being a tough guy with your mommy if you have a full load in your dydee!"

Sharon laughed at the image that Joan had conjured up in her mind; she visualized a man trying to intimidate his wife and then being led to his nursery to have his dirty dydee changed. "If men were forced to see the kind of messes they made in their diapers maybe they wouldn't be so quick to judge others," she said.

"Men enjoy the messes they make, Sharon! Don't you know that? They like sitting in their poop when they're little babies and they want everyone else to sit in their poop when they grow up! It's the women of the world who have to go around wiping their dirty bottoms and picking up after them, whether they're two or they're sixty! Just be glad he's a baby again, they're smellier, but they make smaller messes!", Joan said.

Sharon laughed when she said, "For the first time in five years I'll be able to keep ahead of the messes he makes. From now on his messes will be confined to his playpen."

"And his diapers, Sharon! Don't forget all the dirty diapers and bibs you'll be cleaning! That's the only advantage there is to having a man over a baby! Babies are cuter, more adorable and more lovable than men, but they make messes in their diapers. At least a man is relatively toilet trained!", Joan replied in an amused tone.

Sharon laughed and said, "My little cupcake here used to dribble in his undies after he peed. He also made brown streaks on the back of