Trophy (Devilla-Roche and Greg Grey)

<surrounded by her, enveloped by her flesh, immersed by a new outpouring of overwhelming pheromones, Greg sinks into a near-catatonic state as Milenka - having seen what Akilinia was able to do yesterday - playfully experiments with implanting memories into her husband herself>


Mommy's kissing Mommy Jackie. Mommy Jackie is almost as tall as Linny, who is almost as tall as Mommy. All of them are so pretty, but it's Linny that's standing in front of me right now, leaning over in front of me in my high chair.

"Oh, mom! Of course I don't mind babysitting Daddy..." Linny says, putting her hands on either side of my tray table, "You two go out and have a nice time..."

I'm gaping, heedlessly open-mouthed, at the huge display of cleavage my daughter has presented me with, to keep me quiet and occupied. Along with the bottle of mother's milk in my hands, I'm perfectly engrossed. As the ladies talk I suck, and I stare...

"Thank you sweetie," Mommy coos, turning from Mommy Jackie and smoothing the front of her tight, blue, button-down sweater, adjusting the waist of her black poodle skirt. "We just be to dinner, back early."

Mommy Jackie hasn't said anything, but walks over towards me, her heels <click click clicking> on the wooden floor of the kitchen. She leans over, the rhinestones of her tight black dress catching the light, and kisses me on the cheek. "Have a nice night, Greg," she purrs, right into my ear, "We'll come check on you when we get home..." Though my eyes never leave Linny's cleavage, my mind flashes back to another memory, the last time my mommys came to 'check on me', late at night, how I ended up smooshed between their bodies...

<suck suck suck> on my bottle, barely tasting the sweetness of the milk mommy's pumped for me as I gaze at Linny's big breasts in her white-and-blue cheerleader's uniform. Cut low, not anything like the cheerleaders outfits I remember from the past, it presents them spectacularly. Her bra has them squished up high on her chest...

The women finish chatting, and finally my mommies leave. Linny had turned around to say her goodbyes (giving me a chance to admire her bottom) but is now turned back to me, patiently allowing me again to stare at her chest as I finish my evening meal....

...I shudder, and bury my face deeper between the breasts of my wife, seeking refuge from this shame. I find another memory...



Mommy stopped pushing me on the swing, to talk to that other mommy, and now I just sit here and wait. Wait for her to come back to me. In the meantime, I'm lonely. I'm lonely and...I wiggle around on the swing, feeling my diaper crinkling in my pants, cross my legs to try to hold it.

Mommy is so pretty, I think, as I watch her. She's so pretty in that blue button-up sweater and skirt. She asked me if I liked the flowers on it: I do! All the other mommies are dressed nice, too...but I think my mommy is the prettiest. That makes me smile. They're all tall, like mommy. They're all young, like mommy. They all have the big calves, narrow ankles and knees, the tiny waists and flaring hips that mommy has. They all have the big full boobs under their dresses like mommy, and the pretty hair. But my mommy is the best. And she's my mommy. Mine.

I look around at the other people in the park...

...Every boy has their mommy, and they're all like me. Some are a little bigger, some are a little smaller. But they're all like little men, and play blithely on the playground, in the park, or on the swings, like me. Some of them are sitting with their mommies, on the benches. Some of them are on the grass, laying down...

...but some of them are not just sitting on the benches. Some of them are in their mommys' laps, being held. Some of them are breastfeeding, right here in the park, their mommys' big boobs out, squashed into their face, as other little men stand around and shamelessly watch.

...and some of them are not just laying in the grass, relaxing with their mommys. Some of them are laid out, pants down, as their mommy strokes them in her hand, or is leaned over to take them in her mouth. Those mommys rock back and forth on their hips, and their little men squirm and writhe below them.

I look again at my mommy. I would want her to do this to me, too, but right now....right now...

"muh...muh...muh..." I attempt, sitting on my swing, trying to call her over, "muh-muh..."

She doesn't hear me, though she's only about twenty feet away. I try again, but still I can't get her attention. I uncross and cross my legs again. I really have to...to go...

I know that if I jump from this swing that I would fall down. I'd fall down and I couldn't stand up again. I know I wouldn't be able to walk to her, to tug on her skirt. I'd have to crawl. I don't want to do that...

...so I start to cry.

I sob, just a little bit, "m-m-muh! m-muh! muh!" Tears start to fall down my cheeks. That does it. She turns towards me, and her face softens, eyes widening. One hand over her chest, she jogs towards me.

"Awwwww...!" She coos, coming to kneel right in front of me, as I sit on the swing. Her face is the picture of maternal compassion as she asks "What wrong, sweetie?"

Lips quivering, I try to tell her. "uhhh...uhhh....uh-uhhh..." My eyes widen, and pleadingly into hers. "muh...m-muh...muh..!" I squirm in my swing, and cross my legs tighter.

"Oooooh...!" she chirps, her mouth an 'O' of realization, "Do you have to go моча? Do you need сикать?"

I shake my head, eyes widening further: yes! yes!

"Aw, baby," she coos, smiling in sympathy, cocking her head to the side and looking deep into my watery eyes, "you know...you know you can just go..."

oh god, no...

"Yes, yes.." she continues, voice dropping to a whisper between us, "go in diaper. It okay, it okay..." Her hand comes up, cupping my chin tenderly.
"Mommy don't mind...she change you later...just go..."

And suddenly, my lips quivering anew, I can't help myself. I feel a relief, and a warmth growing in my diaper. A heavy, wet warmth.

My eyes are locked on hers; I can't pull them away. She watches me, with a tender smile, as I pee and pee and pee, filling my diaper as I sit here, on the swing, in front of everyone, in front of her...

<pat pat pat>

<pat pat pat>

Mommy burps me...it always feels better when she does...and holds me on her shoulder like that for a good long while.

<pat pat pat>

<pat pat pat>

In the meantime, as my stomach settles (I'm so full!), I look around at the other mommies and babies in the park. All the baby boys seem happy, because they have their mommies. Sometimes one of them will play with another one, for a little while, but mostly they just want to be near mommy...

...just like me.

All the mommies seem happy, too. They chat to one another, they baby their little boys. They seem perfectly pleased to have a nice day in the park. Some of them don't even have babies, but are by themselves or other mommies. They seem happy too. Mostly those mommies are pregnant. Some are very pregnant, with big full bellies and big gravid breasts. They are sexy too, just like my mommy. It makes me hard, looking at these mommies and thinking about what's it's like for their babies.

I know that inside these mommies there are babies growing. Baby boys, just like me. I was inside mommy once, I remember, and I'll be inside her again, when I get small enough. I can't wait! That was so nice...

...

...

...more impressions, feelings, sensations than actual memories, these are.

It's a feeling of warmth, and safety, the warmth of her. Of being together as one, mother and son. Like no other place you would ever want to be.

....the sweet humming of Mommy's voice...

Click to expand...

I can hear her, now, talking. Sometimes to me, sometimes to others. Weeks ago I couldn't. Now it's her voice, sometimes, and her heartbeat, always there, throbbing. And I can see, too, a little. Red and orange and pink and black at times and it's all nice, my home. The sound of her voice is pleasant, comforting, it makes me smile deep in my watery nest, now that I have a mouth. I can suck my thumb, and that feels nice, too.

...moving while not moving a single foot forward...

Click to expand...

We move together, we breathe together, we do everything together. Mommy and me. I'm part of her, and I never want to leave...

...but one day the squeezing came.

The squeezing came and it hurt. It hurt and I heard her moaning. Mommy moaning and talking and purring and...oh god it sounds like singing, her voice is so beautiful. The squeezing came and it began to squeeze me down, down, pressing me further down and - no ! - not...away! Where am I going!

The squeezing and the squeezing and the squeezing and I'm squashed my arms are pinned to my sides. I hear her voice, and the powerful throbs of her heart but it's not her heart it's something else. I'm squeezed down and down and down...her voice climbs, a crescendo, a climax..."YES! YES! YES!"...and suddenly...

...I'm crying.

Hands are on me, other people's hands. Huge hands, pulling me out of her, holding me aloft. I cry and I gasp and I wail wail wail, my eyes clamped shut against the HORRIBLE LIGHT, my body trembling in the HORRIBLE COLD. They're female hands, I can tell, and they are gentle. They're gentle but they're not Mommy's. They're holding me, tenderly, and they're turning me...

...to HER.

I open my eyes, when I hear her voice. It's a language, a language I don't yet understand, but it's meant for me. Our eyes meet - hers like jewels mined from the sun itself, smiling, mine rheumy and unfocused - and I am overcome with feelings: love and fear and desire and need and...MOMMY. She's laying down, in a thin medical gown, attended by women I think I know. But she is all I see. She coos, her hair a beautiful mess of long, dark tendrils, a raven mane that falls across her face and shoulders, and stretches out her arms for me...

Back to reality....

Milenka has pulled back on the pheromones and watches as Greg continues to root and root and root...

Milenka pulls him away from her and holds him up...

In a soft voice...
"Greggy, oh Greggy."

He roots in mid air...her voice raises...
"Greggy, now Greggy. Snap out of dream."

She gives him a few slaps on his derriere and suddenly his eyes open....

"There is my Greggy, he's back. You had much dreams. I watch down on you, but then too much rooting into Mommy so I wake you up."

<Greg's psyche has just undergone a tremendous amount of trauma at the unwitting hands of his wife, some of it just transient, some temporary, some of it more permanent...>

oh my god I am so confused, I think, feeling completely pulled out of time, out of reality, out of my mind, is this a dream? a memory? the future, the past? where am i? when am i?

Gazing at me with a huge, bright, enthusiastic smile, this woman holding me - oh, good, it's Mommy! No...it's my wife. Or...wait...it's that girl from Kazakhstan..? - she obviously does not share my concerns. Seeing my bewildered eyes, my gaping mouth, she merely giggles, like this is all great fun.

But looking at her - staring wide-eyed at her huge, beaming face - it starts to make me feel better. She called herself 'Mommy', didn't she? Yes...yes...that's what I hold on to...this is my mommy...

She sees me blinking, looking at her, the realizations starting to visually dribble through my mind and across my face. She giggles again, pleasantly amused, as if this is the most adorable thing, and coos little words of comfort to me.

We're sitting on the ground in a big living room. Do I live here? Well...she's sitting, and she's holding me aloft effortlessly, under the arms in front of her, to best read my face. I get the feeling she's looking deep, deep, deep into me, seeing past me and through my watery gaze. Another glimmer goes through her eyes and she cocks her head, as if realizing something. She wants to try something. She starts to lower me to the ground, aside her, to stand me up...

...but, my legs...they...they don't do what I think they should. They should keep me standing, right? But...I can't balance. They're too weak, my back is wobbly, and I...oh no...tumble over...oof! It's not a far fall, and I'm fine, but...

She laughs, and claps, perfectly pleased with her little experiment. She watches as I struggle, clumsily turning myself over to my front, where I'm able to get up onto my hands and knees. She inches backwards a bit on her plump rear, to allow me space, and watches me with a fascinated eye. I look up at her, pleadingly, and say...

"w-ww-whu....? ww-wwwhhuuu...?"

My brow knits in concern. My mouth feels funny, slack. But even so...it's as if I don't know how to use it, to form the words I'm trying to say: What's happening?

"wh-wh-whu...whhuhhhh...."

Jesus christ.

My blood flares in fear.

I can't speak.

I can't speak, and I can't walk.

And she's just laughing at me, smiling, and scootches back just a little bit more, away from me.

"Muh...m-muh...m-muh...." I babble, my eyes wide, my lips quivering. What's happened to me?!? I think in alarm, recalling the vivid memories I just re-lived, with my face buried in her bosom. Did they leave me like this? Is this some after-effect? The high-chair memory, where I couldn't speak. The park memory, where I also couldn't walk. And the other memory where...

...oh god.

Looking up at her, now, as she beams maternally down on me, a million new fears blossom. Heat erupts from me as my heart starts to race, and I begin to sweat.

What's going to happen to me?

Milenka can see that Greg is panicked, but she is not concerned....knowing how this happened, from her pheromones, she assumes what he is going through is something temporary....but, she figures, why not haves some fun with him at this point and yet still bring out that maternal side of herself....she just loves to take advantage of these moments...

All nine plus feet of her stands before him...a giant...it looks as though she could just step on him like an ant....she seemingly knows that she is showing her power over him in so many ways...then she backs up a few steps and smiles....she lowers herself, on her knees, still so tall and in her motherly of ways....

"Come Little Greggy. Yes, that is good. You crawl. Crawl to Mommy. Is okay, you do it. Is no problem."

Milenka's arms are outstretched and he slowly crawls towards her....

Is this humiliating? Crawling to one's wife, hands and knees, as she holds out her hands to you and urges you to her as you babble and whine?

"m-muh-muh-muh-mah...muh-mah..." I'm able to manage.

Is this humiliating? Crawling on the ground, awkwardly, putting one hand in front of the other, dragging one's knees over the carpet, inching towards your giant wife as she smiles and coos, eyes bright, mouth wide.

"m-muuh-mah.." I stammer, my tongue heavy and uncoordinated, jaw slack.

Is this humiliating? Crawling towards that smile, lit with delighted pride? Wanting so much to please her that you'd do anything? Wanting so much to be with her, held by her, that - unable to walk - you'd crawl on your hands and knees, like an infant?

"mm-mah...mmmmm-mah..." I smile.

Is this humiliating? To smile as one's debasing himself further and further, inh by laborious inch?

And is it humiliating to fall, flat onto one's face and belly, exhausted by the effort? To hear her "woops!" and giggle? And what about to whine, almost cry, when unable to rise again? Is that humiliating?

"Come little Greggy...вверх! (up)! прийти к маме (come to Mommy)..!" she urges, clapping her hands and leaning on her knees to gather her huge breasts between her arms.

Is it humiliating to drop your gaze form hers, into her cleavage, and have that be what finally gets you back up, on your hands and knees, crawling to her again? Is it humiliating that she knows it is the deep chasm of her cleavage that you want to crawl into?

"хороший мальчик (good boy)! Crawl to Mommy..." she praises, as she spreads her knees just a bit on the ground below her, to better support herself.

And is it humiliating when your gaze drops even further, your mouth gapes even wider, when - as a deep-seated memory surfaces - your eyes fall down between her thighs, and it's suddenly no longer between her breasts that you want to bury yourself?

Milenka notices Greg's new preoccupation and she decides to do more than humor him...she opens her legs, still in her kneeled position and pulls down her shorts, then takes them off.. but rather than have her derriere rest on the backs of her legs, so she lift's herself up and that gives Greg enough room to crawl right toward her crotch....he looks up in such admiration....she cocks her head and says a few sweet things to him in Russian, but then realizes his no found attachment to her pussy...

Greg can see the camel toe on her tight panties...

In that maternal but very sultry tone...
"Вы хотите увидеть киску мамы? Вы хотите, чтобы глазеть на него? Allright, я дам вам, это для вас в любом случае."

...and she pulls it downward slowly and reveals her pussy, then pulls the panties off and then gets seated in the same raised kneeling position....

Greg looks up, tries to reach, but can't....she begins to rub her already swollen labia...compared to a normal size women, Milenka's vagina is huge.....she pulls Greg up to it and decides he should see it even closer...

Greg is just inches from her pussy...he can see the glistening beads of wetness as it sits on her labia....she holds him up with one hand and stretches her labia out with her left index and middle fingers...Greg can only make those same baby sounds with his voice...

Again, in that sultry, maternal voice...
"Может быть, мой Greggy должен коснуться киску? Может быть, он должен чувствовать, как хорошо она выглядит с его лицом?"

She crouches down a bit and moves her pussy right into his face..it feels so good for her, but Milenka tries to have some control...she wants Greg to feel her pussy, to enjoy its odor...and to want it more and more....

The memories roil and flash, thunder and lightning, a storm of conflict. I'm a man, but I shouldn't be. I'm an infant, humiliated. I'm out here, in the world...but I don't want to be. I want to be...in there...

I gasp as she presses me, from the back of my head, into her cunt. My face slips into her, and then my whole head...

...darkness, for a bit, and panic. I struggle, horrified but also needing more, needing to go even deeper. I can barely breathe, sunk up to my neck in her vagina. My hands on her thighs, pushing feebly, trying to free myself now. Darkness, darkness, darkness...but then, new light...

.....

...I've blacked out, I know it. But it's not black, not anymore. And I'm not in her cunt.

The world is coming back. Dim, unfocused images that - as I blink - slowly start to brighten, to clear. The room around me, as I lay on my back, is strange and unfamiliar. It's huge around me, huge and...

...Milenka.

She's here, too, she's looking down on me, smiling. I'm in a bed - no, a bassinet or a crib or something - and Milenka is leaning over, peering down on me with a warm, maternal smile. Sunlight filters in from behind her, giving her a heavenly glow. Her hair is up in a casual bun, and she wears little makeup. She's beautiful.


This is a dream.

"Shhh...shhh...у Вас есть мечта, детка," she coos down to me, in Russian...but I understand every word: "Shhh...shhh...you're having a dream, baby."

My mouth works, heavily, as I try to form words. But again - nothing. My voice is muted, and I manage only a few feeble, absolutely infantile sounds. This is a dream, and I can't speak. I can't speak, and I can barely move...my arms, my legs, everything: I'm weak, and it's like I'm made of lead.

But I can see, and my eyes widen as the room around me comes more into focus. We're in a room, a small living room maybe. Darkly paneled walls, a stained ceiling. The windows are small and the lace curtains shabby, but golden sunshine filters through.

She looks down on me, and a huge hand comes to stroke my face, tenderly, with one finger. "This is my home," she explains to me in Russian, "where I grew up, where I lived..." She tilts her head, cocking it wistfully as she speaks. "...before you."

Her home..? In Kazakhstan..?

"I make this dream for you," she says, as she begins to reach in, with both hands, "to show you my home...show you how I lived, with my family." She lifts me, easily, from the bassinet, and stands herself. That affords me a better view around. The room is small and plain, clean but slightly ramshackle. The furniture appears old, threadbare, and I see a tiny, dated galley kitchen through a doorway. But, instead of gazing about at my surroundings, I prefer to look up at her.

This is the Milenka from long ago. She is thinner, smaller - normal human size, frankly. This is Milenka from before her treatments. Her chest - though pleasantly full in the plain, short-sleeve blouse she wears - is nothing like the epic bosom I've known. She is, however, preternaturally gorgeous to me; the mere sight of here stirs something deep and primordial in my gut, something instinctual, and I'm rapt.

"Our house is small, very small compare to house now, in U S A," she says, drifting in and out between English and Russian, "but it only home I know, before you." She tilts me in her arms, a bit, so I can look around some more. Small and antiquated and indigent as it is, it has a woman's touch. Little tcotchkes pepper the old side tables and surround the small, blocky, archaic television. Kitschy folk art hangs on the walls in cheap frames. One window is broken, a piece of plywood replacing a panel of glass. But the place is homey, simple, warm in its own way.

And she is the focus, though, of its warmth. She is the most beautiful thing here, the center of the family, the bosom. I feel completely safe in her arms, and I feel completely safe here. At the chest of this poor peasant woman, this young woman, I am totally at home. A poor child myself, happy with mama.

She walks me around the small house, such as it is. Really just a collection of several rooms, one done up as a bedroom, the house is just several steps above a hovel. Not quite a cottage, but not quite a shack. If there's any running water, or indoor plumbing, I see no evidence.

"This is room, that papa shares with brother," she says, as she shows me the last room in the house, the bedroom, "you would like family, good people." Two small beds fill the space, just thin cots, really with worn bedding. "I sleep on couch, or on floor sometimes, in first room," she says, "but in dream...in dream, here, this bedroom can be ours..."

And then, before my eyes, the room begins to change...

Hmmm...after burying Greg's head in her cunt....after surrounding him with her engorged labia and all the folds that lead to within'...after his intense fight to push away, fight back, Milenka soon has the ultimate control over her soon to be infant husband...from the pheromones to the intensity of what awaits inside of her vagina, his body and mind have been given over to her...he sits there stoic, his body lifeless, now in a dream world devoted to his mommy queen...he can no longer fight...she is wrapped around him - figuratively and literally...there is no escape, no way of release...he is numb all over as if an injection of a local anesthesia has been introduced into his body....Milenka feels Greg too, all over her body, all over her mind...it is a rush like no other to feel him down there, she too can barely move as if in some kind of meditative state...she moans, but the form is that of a mantra - over and over - the pleasurable feeling of having him inside of her forever, a feeling so addictive, a knowledge of forever completeness, she is addicted to such a state....BUT....something pulls her back....something pulls her out and Greg is removed and now in her arms....

Not aware of a change, Milenka is slightly larger in every way...even her plate sized areola are bigger, her nipple longer....she positions Greg under her left breast, her bosom full again with a great deal of breast milk...she needs release and Greg is always the benefactor of a need for release....she pushes him in deep...her engorged nipple fills his mouth completely and goes far down into his throat...the milk expands his stomach as it wills itself to ingest even more than the last time...Milenka coos and moans as the feeling of release continues...she sings in those rhythmic Russian and Kazakh songs and they relax Greg and helps him to drink her in - more and more - until she moves him to the right breasts and sings more lullabies....he responds - always - she then pulls him away, the dimples in her areola leave marks on his face from being so pushed in to her breast...she then holds him up in front of her and looks at him with the biggest of smiles....

In that syrupy tone, her head cocked, hair cascading down the sides of her bosom and halfway down her backside she says, "How my Little Greggy now feel? He feel good, no?

It's a lullaby I hear, in Russian, in her sweetest voice. It's her milk I'm suckling, from her huge warm breast. It's her skin I'm smelling, squashed up against my face. It's her dream I'm dreaming, laying here in her arms...

...isn't it?

She peels me from her breast, to hold me in front of her. My peasant mommy, with her thick mane of raven hair, with her eyes of glimmering gemstones - she's smiling at me, her little boy, with magical charm. This is us, alone in our little home.....but something is different...

Where am I? Is this still the dream?

Is this...the past or the future or the now? Am I imagining this? Is this a memory? Confusion...<blink blink blink>...confusion...

"How my Little Greggy now feel? He feel good, no?"

Click to expand...

<blink blink blink>

She giggles at my dumbfounded expression, not even knowing the shambles she's made of my mind.

"m-m-muhhhhh...." I try to answer, my mouth once again failing me, slack and ignorant of speech, "muh-muhhhhhhh...."

She giggles again. Apparently I'm adorable, like this...but I must be an adorable mess. My face, my hair: I can feel it, I'm covered in her syrupy juices, her essence and perfume and goo.

"mmuh..." I struggle, not even knowing, really, what I'm trying to say. I can tell my mind is not what it once was, days ago...even just hours ago. My will is failing, my psyche is crumbling, my intellect is shrinking. But...looking at her...I'm...I'm forgetting. It's all becoming okay...

...I blink more of her juices out of my eyes, and I manage a weak, fatuous smile...

Milenka looks at Greg and smiles back thinking to herself that his lack of speech, the way he now babbles like a baby.....

In her own thoughts....
"How helpless he is. How completely helpless and in need of me as his momma. He cannot speak. Is cute. Is like if some sort of invisible gag covers mouth. Hmm. Milenka likes Greggy like this. Milenka loves husband. Milenka beginning to love control over Greggy. Don't know why but Milenka do like such control over him. Oh maybe back home, Milenka impoverished and in need of others, especially men. Milenka now empowered. Milenka strong. Milenka in control."

The thought washes away and she then says to Greg....
"How about swim in pool? Yes? We do because Mommy say so. And Greggy do what Mommy says."

She places him down on the bed and gets changed into her bikini....



"You like Mommy like this?"

Greg shakes his head...

Milenka giggles...
"Good. We go."

Milenka, like always swoops him up with her arms and he lies under her bosom...he can see the outline of her areola, of her nipple, even the dimples of her areola...so pronounced, so huge....Milenka steps sin the water and lays on her back...she leaves Greg to lay upon her stomach, her two titanic tits settle aimlessly onto her body, but still reigned in by her bikini top, even though it is stretching to the limit...

Greg lies there, a small diminutive soul on a human raft, as Milenka slowly strokes her arms and legs as her body traverses the pool...she can feel him on her, but he is so light, literally like the size of a baby...she sings those Russian and Kazakh songs while she swims and coos at Greg.....

Oh, this is nice, laying on her, on my back, in the late afternoon sun as she paddles us around the pool. This is our pool, right? At our house? The thoughts and memories are confusing to me, so I try to concentrate on what I know, on what is nice. The wisps of clouds in the sky. The breeze as we drift. The warmth of body below me, the slickness of her wet skin. Her voice, rumbling through her and drifting sweetly into me, a song, like a lullaby.

I turn, after a bit, onto my stomach. To look up at her, between the twin mountains of her breasts lolling on her chest. She's looking down at me, smiling in good humor. I smile back, and lay my face back down on her sternum, taking a deep breath of her. The sun feels good on my back.

We float, and float, and time passes. She asks me if I'd like a swim, and I peep in assent. We're in the center of the pool, where the water is about five feet deep, so when she takes hold of me and comes to stand she is not-quite up to her chest. Holding me in front of her in the water, she giggles and dunks me up and down; I weigh nothing to her. I sputter water out of my nose and mouth, and smile gape-mouthed, gazing up at her adoringly. As beautiful as she is, her smile and eyes and dripping hair the picture of joyful perfection, I can't help but fixate on her big breasts, squashed between her arms in her too-small bikini as she holds me before her.

She gives me a wry smile, patiently aware of my lingering gaze, and indulges me with a wiggle and shimmy of her chest, laughing. My eyes goggle as the flesh jiggles, slick and shiny from the warm water of the pool. I'm naked, and have been semi-hard this entire time...Milenka does that to me. Semi-hard, that is, up to now, when my cock thickens and straightens under the water until it rises, and slowly surfaces like a creature from the depths in front of me.

That causes her to giggle even more; even I find it sort of silly. But, when she grabs me by it, and begins to use it to pull me around the pool, things begin to be less funny. She's entertained, for sure - laughing, leading her shrunken husband around by the cock, like a stiff towline or risen mast - but to me...nnnnggghhh...

The feel of her hand is incredible - warmth of flesh, in the cool of water. Even the tug of it, the yank on my loins, is erotic. To her, it's a game. To me...nnnnnggghhh...my eyes flutter.

But, suddenly, she lets me go. We're in more than five feet of water, and I drift a bit - but then start to sink. I'm trying, I'm trying to swim. To at least tread water. But my arms flail, awkwardly, my legs kick helplessly, and I start - in panic - to sink. In a moment I'm under water, holding my breath, my eyes goggling. I see her in front of me, huge hips, her taut abdomen, about eight feet away: a huge distance. I'm sinking lower, but am able to struggle a few floundering strokes. I move towards her, a bit, and stroke again underwater. Slowly, I'm making my way closer, and not sinking any more. She holds her arms out for me under the surface, urging me to her, but doesn't take a step to rescue me...

...swim, Greg, swim!

Milenka looks on as she watches Greg struggle endlessly...


She smiles, even giggles as he struggles...she knows, at any point in time she can grab him, but chooses not to...with her arms out he gets closer and closer and closer....until finally, Milenka brings her arms together and swoops him in to her body....she brings him into her cleavage...the two mammoth masses of flesh are parted and she fits most of him inside her deep cleavage....giggling endlessly at the things she can do to him, she decides to take a swim...she uses a hybrid stroke, one that makes her tits fall in and out of the water....that means that Greg has no choice but to be forced under the water and out of the water....in an odd way, it is like she is waterboarding him....a rush of water forced onto him with the weight of her body and underwater where he is forced to hold his breath....then out, where he gets a chance at a gasp of air only to be pushed back in....

But to Milenka, it is just a game.....finally, she stops and she steps out of the pool....
"We go now little one. Mommy keep you right where you are."

And Milenka does just that....Greg is held perfectly between her tits, his legs dangling...she goes inside - to the kitchen and makes her nutritious shakes....she brings about six of them outside and lays back in one of the chaise lounge chairs and takes in the warm sun....

And, for Greg, there is no escaping from her soft mounds of flesh that surround him....the question is - Is he feeling trapped? or Is he happy to be stuck within the soft mass of flesh that are Milenka's tits?

re: FILE w-773-6 / HIGHEST PRIORITY
CASE 4533a
Kovalenko-Gray, Milenka

and

re: FILE b-0002 / HIGHEST PRIORITY
CASE m00001-j
Gray, Greg

Synchronized Audio/Video File #48-1448a.9

Video Source: Remote Camera g-55.7.a12 (Gray Residential Security System) 16:32 PST



Excerpts, Transcript of Audio Source: Cochlear Implants, Subject 4533a 16:32 PST

Woman's Voice/Subject 4533a/M.Kovalenko-Gray: "Yes! Good boy! Come to mommy!"



M.K-G: "Yay! So good! Mommy teach you to swim. Like this...hand, hand...reach, reach....<giggle!> Little man! You so silly! Try! Here, I put hand under belly, help float. There...come now, kick, kick..."

<splashing, giggling>

M.K-G: "...<giggle!> Greggy! Concentrate! You always looking at Mommy's boobs!"



M.K-G: "<giggle!> Here...you like so much? You swim to mommy's boobies..."



M.K-G: "...good, good boy. Paddle, with hands. Kick, with legs. Yes, yes...good boy. Yes, you swim...swim to boobies..."

M.K-G: "...good boy...! Yes! Momm- OOOOOO! You splash Mommy! <giggle!>"



M.K-G: "Naughty! Naughty boy splash Mommy! <giggle!> But Mommy teach you to swim, yes! Mommy good teacher! Good teacher, yes...<giggle!>"



M.K-G: "Now, little boy get reward...come, come to Mommy..."

...and that's how I ended up between her breasts. The first time where she could really engulf me between them, nearly my whole body. I had swum to her, as much of a struggle as it was, and -swoop- she'd sucked me in, wrapped them around me, squashing me into her.

I gasped - the feeling was a shock - and was immediately immobilized. Her breasts were huge and wet and slick around me, massive around my torso, pinning my arms to my sides. Only my head poked proud of her cleavage, my shins and feet beneath. She tucked me in tighter, fitting my legs under the string of her bikini top, and took me for a swim - I nearly drowned!

After rising from the pool, and the kitchen after she made her shakes, I find myself laid atop her. Still trapped in her cleavage, I'm allowed a little more movement as her breasts fall naturally a bit to the side as she's reclined in the (too small, of course) chaise. But I make no effort to escape, to leave. Why would I? This is...perfect. My head is laid upon her collarbone, and I'm staring at the mountain of her tit as she coos to me, as she purrs and humms words of love and adoration, asking me if I'm okay. Asking me if I like it here. She knows I can't speak, so I start to kiss her upper breast, adoringly. Yes, I like it very much, Mommy... I start to lick it like a dog. I want to go even deeper... I can't keep myself from whining, as I lick her, feeble and weak and worshipful. Put me in deeper Mommy...deeper...