Infirm (Ben Robertson x Devilla Roche)

[Ben Robertson]

...I want her to know that I'm doin good, that I'm doin what she told me...

<suck...suckk..sukcck...>

but I'm shy

I drop my eyes, looking down into the glasss...and every once in a while i look at her bboobs jus for a second. Jus quick! then i drink again and look at my milk its good i'm drinking it slowly jus like she said...

but then she...she opens her robe a little bit, an she's pushing her arms together to whoah oh my god her boobs are pressing together they look so fuckin big...

<succkk...suk...suck...suck...suckk...succkk>

i tryto keep sucking slowly but now i'm nervous i looked too long i lookd away but did she see me lookin?

"You can look Ben, but under one condition, that you keep drinking my milk in the correct manner. If I catch you sipping too fast or without the straw, these big things go back inside of my robe, understand?"

sh-she-she says i can look can i look i look up to her eyes she's smiling she's so pretty oh god she pressing them together more they're almos up to her throat i look and i <suc...suk...succckk> so soft and so white and so big slowly slowly slowly wanna do this right..!

the pain is my gut is theyre its maybe getttin worse but looking at them makes it bettr its good its so...oh god she's not smiling and taking a deep breath<succk...sckk...suckk> and another my cocck is so hard it hurts but i cant touch it too shy and shes tilting her chin up still lookin at me hunching her shoulders squeezing she;s bulging bulging out she's lookin rught at me i can't look up at her im too shy so i keep looking at her boobs her big big white boobs they have veins theyre so...

<suckk...suck...hissss....ssssuckk...>

i look down...my milk is almos gone...my stomach is clenchd but i still go slow though...fihish it off for her...owww...owww...<succk...suck...>...oh jeez it hurts...i'm done...

<I groan in pain>

 

[Devilla-Roche]

Towards the end, I can see him squinting...squinting his eyes in pain...it doesn't look too bad, but I feel I need to comfort him and make him feel better...I get up, my pink robe falling from my arms, but still on me, just open....my breasts are quite big, I must admit and they seem very perk....Ben just sits there, his eyes ogling at my "new and improved boobs"...hmm, there is something here...maybe its the medicine or my milk or both, but it seems to make Ben seem very needy almost like...oh Milly Robertson, don't think such things...

As I come toward Ben, I can tell...somehow my maternal instincts kick in...he's like a little boy who won't tell his mommy how much it hurts because he wants to stay out with his friends in the sandlot and play baseball...of course, I can't forget that he has done what he is told...I must give him something that will make him feel good about what he just did, for listening to the doctor and listening to me....ah!!

I open my robe a little more and pull out each boob one at a time...I do it slowly, and with a smile....

"Good job Ben, you finally did as you are told. Why don't I give you what you want so badly."

I bend down, just a bit, and push his head as far as I can into my cleavage, I stand there and pet him...I'll admit, I probably would never do this before the treatment, but I'm feeling so....different...and there is Ben, just sitting there, as if someone shot him with something that made his nerves freeze...he sits there and takes it all in...he feels good, he wants this, he wants to be taken care of like this...hmm??

Of course as I face him, more than pain becomes apparent to me....

"Well Ben, my, my look at what has come to attention in those pj's of yours?"

I pull away from him...
"It's okay, don't be embarrassed or anything like that. Keep looking at my boobies. You can do that, right? I know you can."

I undo his pajama bottoms, his boxers and there it is, bigger than ever...without hesitation, I jerk him off and take care of him until the point that he comes....

After cleanup...we deal with his pain...then it eases down...I help him get showered and then dressed and I do the same, and I drive him to work....I don't tell him that I'm going to call the doctor this morning.....

 

[Devilla-Roche]

I call up the doctor's office...he and I have an extensive conversation...he brings in his associate and they tell me they will call me back today...

I wait an hour, no call....two hours no call....

"Ring, damn you ring you stupid phone!"

Nothing....

At the doctors office....

Dr. Francis and Dr. Coleman speak in Dr. Francis' office.

DrF: Okay, he's drinking it slowly through the straw, but its not slow enough. He's human, so his sips are irregular, some more than others. How do we change that?

DrC: Would a pump work?

DrF: No, we couldn't get it down to a slow enough speed.

DrC: What about a dropper, you know like an eye dropper?

DrF: That's good! Your on to something. ~thinks~ No, no that won't work. The impracticality of it would mean that he would take well more than an hour to drink his medication. It's effectiveness would go right out the window.

DrC: ~has a look on his face~

DrF: What! What, have you got John??

DrC: What if Mr. Robertson were to drink the medicine through a baby bottle?

Dr. F: ~smiles~ That's it! Perfect. It will do exactly what we need it to do. I'll call Mrs. Robertson at once.

********************
Milly rushes to the store to get three glass baby bottles at the maternity store...it all becomes overwhelming to her...maternal instincts come out...she buys a few other things, some bibs, some binkys...she thinks of Ben drinking from the bottle....and then she smiles a grand smile...it is a moment of discovery and she begins to think of him in a different light.....

***********************

Milly picks Ben up from work and brings him home...the two go inside the house....she is excited for him, as if she just became an expectant mother of sorts....

In a very giddy tone...
"Ben close your eyes. I have a surprise for you."

She walks him over to the dining room table.....

"Now open your eyes."

She quickly explains of her call to Dr. Francis, his concern for Ben's continued pain and the solution that he and Dr. Coleman came up with...and then as she's explaining all this, she sees his face and gets a mouthful of his reaction to the baby bottle.....

 

[Ben Robertson]

oh my god...I think, head in hands at my drafting table...what went on this morning??

Though my memories of these times, these times after my taking my treatments since they've been Milly's milk, have been foggy, I recall this morning better than I have others. It was still like a dream though, one that I have not been able to stop thinking about.

"Why don't I give you what you want so badly?"

That moment, that moment she stood and approached me, when she opened her robe and drew me in, between her breasts....I haven't been able to concentrate, or really work at all, remembering that. All I've been able to do is these sketches...

Oh god the smell...

First there was the feeling of my face slipping in between her newly enormous boobs, and then I breathed her in. I breathed her in and felt the firm, smooth mass of her huge breasts around my face. Her hand, petting the back of my head, held me gently there and let me just...take...it all...in...

The smell was something...powerful. Something so feminine and strong and enveloping and comforting and arousing. It brought back vague memories, some old, some more new. Was it actually the smell of milk? The milk in her breasts? Milk filling her big, white breasts, the milk being made for me? Or was it something else...something I remember from...the clinic? Or...no, can't be...when they brought me to see that cow..?

I had no argument, I had no resistance. After my treatments recently I've felt so...passive. Peaceful. Peaceful and passive and acquiescent...I shudder, thinking of it...but it was so...god. But also...the indignity...

Though there was the smell, and the flesh, and the darkness and then the hand. The soft, strong hand pulling me out, pulling me pulling me, the voice telling me it's okay, it's okay to look and to stare, goggling, and the hand pulling me pulling me pulling me until...pulling me...unnnggghhh...I spent myself onto the soft flannel of my pajama pants...

Oh god, I let her dress me, didn't I? And help me shower? Have I done that before? I was...I wasn't in tremendous pain...but I was not functioning perfectly. I let her help me. I let her, even, drive me to work though the pain was really gone by that point. But I...I wasn't quite there yet. It was probably better, safer. My mind was hazy...I don't really remember the drive, except that she was talking to me throughout, cheerfully, and that her blue, polka-dot dress fit so tautly over her formidable bosom.

And so I puttered away the hours at work, remembering, thinking...wanting. For all my regret, I wanted that again. Would she do that to me again, next time I did a treatment? I remembered and I wanted and I drew. I drew boobs. I knew I shouldn't be doing it, but I did. Just sketches, pencils...

...I crumbled them up. Time and time again. And I thought. I thought...yes, I had some pain after this treatment this morning. Some trouble functioning for a bit. But it was...it was going to be workable, right? I was getting used to the idea of drinking my wife's milk, and the straw was tolerable, I guess. As humiliating as it was, sucking her milk through that stupid thing, tolerating the pain, and then degenerating into half a moron for an hour or so...I could live like this. And Milly - for all the work she's doing, she seems happy to do it. I have to show her I'm appreciative, and have to put effort into being strong and getting things back to normal. Things will level out soon, right? My disease can't just keep going like this, right? I'd make this work. Right? Sure I would!

Hey! Five o'cock! It's time to go!

She picks me up, again, and drives me home. I'm in a fine mood, this afternoon, and she is as well. She's so chipper, absolutely glowing, and I tell her so. She blushes when I tell her just how easy on the eyes she is in that dress. New shoes? Yes? They look wonderful!

She tells me she has a surprise for me at home. Really, honey? Aw shucks you're a peach! Okay okay! I'll cover my eyes. What is it? Something to help me? The doctors said what? But it's really not that bad, the pain, but okay I get it...slower, yes, more measured, yes...it has to be, or the treatments won't work, yes...Honey, what is it? You sound so excited for it!

"Now open your eyes!" she sang, the enthusiasm animating her voice.

oh no...

no no no no no...

absolutely not.

I feel my jaw hanging, my eyes gaping at the thing as it all falls into place, everything she was saying. I will not do this, I will not use it.

"N-no, Milly, No..." I state, as emphatic as I have ever been about anything but feeling the nerves in my voice, "I will not drink out of a b-baby bottle..."

 

[Devilla-Roche]

Sometimes Ben can have a way of changing my mood, changing what was and what could be a wonderful moment into something...else...I listen to him go on and on regarding the baby bottle, I stand there and let him have his tantrum, my arms folded under my bosom, standing as tall and erect as I can (which is getting to be very easy these days)...

In a very haughty tone...
"Ben Robertson are you finished?" ~I place my hand up to stop him from saying another word~ "Good, now I'll talk." ~I raise my one eye and give him quite the look~ "I don't think you fully appreciate what I do for you. Don't you think I might know better than you sometimes? ~my voice raises~ "I try do everything in my power, with my love to keep you alive and this is the thanks I get from you?!? I put myself through experimental surgery for you. Risk my own health to make my husband better. And when I try to help, to make the pain better, call up the doctor and bring you that help, you resist. Why?? ~I walk around him and the dining room table~ "I guess you know better than the doctors, huh? Two doctors who have had extensive medical training, extensive experience in their field, and you in advertising, drawing pictures for a living, you think you know better?!? Okay, Benny knows best. He's got it all figured out. Okay mister, well I'm going to leave the bottle right here, right here on this table. Until you come around to your senses, you're not getting any milk from me, not now and not in the morning. And, until you deal with your problems Ben in a more mature way, you won't get any more of this." ~I push up on my polka dot dress under my bosom~ "Now, I'm going back out to do some shopping. You can sit in this house and do some hard thinking mister."

I leave in a huff wanting to cry...once I'm on the road, I think about getting those new bras and maybe I'll get one or two pairs of heels that fit me better....

 

[Ben Robertson]

Okay she's mad.

She's not yelling, but she's mad, instantly.

She's gone from excited and giddy to serious and stern in the blink of an eye. And I know I did this.

My wife, usually the picture of domesticity and compliancy, rises to challenge me. Facing me, she stands up straighter, and looks down into my eyes. I feel myself bristle - no wife of mine does this! - and my heart start to race. It's the heels, right? That's what giving her this...this...she's got at least two inches on me here...

She locks her eyes on mine. Does she know the effect they have on me now, in their new, glittering intensity? I'm...I'm not ready for this. She starts to talk.

"I don't think you fully appreciate what I do for you..."

"N-no, Milly," I start, damning the crack in my voice, "it's n-not that, it's-"

Her voice amplifies, she's...she's stifling me!

"I try do everything in my power with my love to keep you alive and this is the thanks I get from you?!?"

I...have to steel myself to keep from...to keep from cowering. And I know I have to speak up. I'm not taking that bottle. "Y-y-yes I know, Milly, b-b-but- " I...I don't like to make her angry, and I know that-

"I put myself through experimental surgery for you..."

Yes I know...I know the risks she's taking for me, she's listing them for me...and I know what I'm doing...I feel awful...and I feel like I'm wilting, under those eyes, that voice. Is it the height advantage she has on me now, now that I'm nearly five inches shorter than I once was, and she's in her heels? Is it some new confidence she has with her new curves? She has a new authority...and I feel like I'm...shrinking...

I have to stop this but, looking up at her, she down at me...I just listen. Am I sweating? Can she see me starting to twitch?

"...I risk my own health to make my husband better. And when I try to help...you resist. Why..?!?"

She walks away from me, thankfully, and the intimidation I feel - she was taller than me! A stronger presence! my wife!- starts to subside.

"I guess you know better than the doctors, huh..? You, in advertising, drawing pictures for a living, you think you know better?!? Okay, Benny knows best..."

Did she just belittle what i do for a living?! To feed us, keep this roof over our heads? And...did she just call me "Benny"?!?! I know I have to put my foot down on this. "Milly!" I interject, cutting her off on her tirade, "I-I am the man of this house! I am in charge of my own life and what goes on around here!" From across the dining room table, now, her eyes widen and her mouth drops open. "We are going to do what I say and I am...Not. Drinking. From that. Bottle!"

But she is as resolute as I.

"Well...you're not getting any milk from me, not...until you deal with your problems in a more mature way..."

And with that she storms out - at this time of night! When she should be fixing our dinner! - to...to...to go shopping!

Well I'll show her I'm not drinking out of any stupid baby bottle that's ridiculous the straw worked fine it's just a little pain and whatever the doctor's say maybe the treatments are still going to be doing what they need to I don't need to do anything different she'll come around she'll think differently now that she knows how I feel she's my wife she has to listen to me...

 

[Ben Robertson]

Sitting there, in my easy chair, nursing my second Dewar's, I wait for her. She can't be out all night. The department stores have to close sometime, right? But eight o'clock rolls past, nine...and it's almost nine-thirty by the time she comes back through the door.

I'd had some time to think, sitting by myself, eating leftovers from last Sunday's roast (which tasted like cardboard), and drinking. Yes, of course I took time to reconsider. Maybe I should take the doctor's suggestions. Maybe I should consider taking my treatments from that...thing. Maybe I should listen to Milly...

No! No way. What man would be caught dead taking milk from a baby bottle? There must be another way...

...so I sat there, sipping scotch, thinking. The bottle was supposed to moderate the amount I drink better than the straw, huh? Makes sense. But...what else could be used instead...?

....?

...the hours pass, and I've got nothing. No other ideas. Maybe what Milly said was true: I should just trust the judgment of the doctors. I just draw pictures for a living, right..? Maybe the bottle is the best idea...

No! For so many different reasons...

Frustrated, but with mind still made up, I'm reading the paper when finally she does walk in the door with several shopping bags. I look up at her - fully expecting she's had some time to cool down and rethink things - assume she's come to her senses, she'll be apologetic and we'll figure out a way to continue without the baby bottle, together.

No such luck. I can see it right away in her eyes.

From across the living room she gives me a curt smile, and - seeing that my mind, also, has obviously not changed - says she's going up to sleep.

That night is chilly in bed, and the next day is only a bit better. There's not any overt anger between us, or even any discussion on the bottle or the treatments or my condition or pain. She's put herself together very smartly today, in a yellow dress with white piping that emphasizes her heavy bust and a pair of heels that are, I notice, a bit taller than what I usually see her wearing. So I take care not to stand to close to her or - for that matter - look too often in her direction. I know that's what she wants; she knows her strengths and how to use them. Otherwise, the atmosphere between us is one of subdued...politeness. It's not like we're ignoring the matter at hand, but it's definitely a battle of wills...

So I didn't have a treatment this morning; she's as determined not to yield as I am. Fine. I don't need it. In fact, I make it through that day nearly pain free, and it's only right before bedtime that I start to feel the pain settle in around my bones. Of course I don't say a word, and just ignore it as we settle in for bed with a lukewarm, formal kiss.

The pain, though, has reared its ugly head by morning. The workday - luckily it's Friday - is difficult, and the ride home horrendous. I have to pull over several times, in fact, to give my arms a break from holding the wheel and take a rest.

I make it home, finally, gritting my teeth against the pain to announce "Honey, I'm home!" as I come in the front door. She's not rushing to greet me, she's not throwing her arms around me in apology and telling me I'm right, it's okay, we'll do it my way.

Dammit. What am I going to do?

I drop onto the couch. My body is killing me.

I lay there in pain. Staring at the ceiling but then clamping my eyes shut trying to keep them from watering. A few minutes pass, and I hear the slow click-click-click of her heels as she enters the room, which then comes to a stop. When I open my eyes she is standing, silently, over the couch and holding the baby bottle, full of her milk, out to me.

I take it. It's warm.

Is she going to stand here, watching me?

 

[Devilla-Roche]

Ah, this skin-tight purple cashmere sweater that I purchased at Gimble's is like a fur coat on me - so comfortable and warm....and I also love this tight purple pencil skirt - it's made of that new thin wool and looks very smart on my figure....oh and that lady at Macy's helped me with my new see-thru lace bra and my eyelash lace garter, again it fits my body so well and accentuates all these curves....and with my seamed stockings on with the pretty wide lace welts, I look absolutely ravishing and I know it...they say you can get more flies with honey than you can with vinegar, well let's just see if I can get him to finally drink this looking this good....I stand in front of him as he sits there on the couch...I'm in my new 6" black suede stilettos...I stand tall, I stand proud, and look considerably desirable to him....

I prompt him.....
"Okay honey, go ahead and drink up."

I stand there and wait and finally he begins to drink up, sucking on the nipple of the bottle....I can see he hates it, but I'm not going to let him get away with this again....so.....I s-l-o-w-l-y remove my cashmere sweater in front of him....he stares and begins to drink more quickly at the nipple....

I place my hand and lower the bottle....in my soft, sexy voice...
"Darling, not too fast. Now keep drinking slowly. You will keep drinking your bottle won't you??"

...he shakes his head in the affirmative...

"Good."

I watch him for a while and then I remove my skirt - v-e-r-y-s-l-o-w-l-y - and he is excited and subdued at the same time...I smile lovingly at him....

"Keep going honey, don't stop because of me."

I love being so nonchalant about the way I look in front of him....so gorgeous, so desirable...I can see it in his eyes...like clockwork something strains against the zipper in his trousers...a tent forms and I can see where he is going....he continues to drink my milk, but has that look, like he can't do a thing...he has that face again....this time he traces his view from my bosom, which seems to appear like this bra can't hold it, but it is meant to show off as much cleavage as it can...a double EE cup size means a very long cleavage line and my line is deep and wide....but he also looks at my hips...

"Keep drinking honey. Finish up while you take a gander at my derriere."

I turn around....the open garter in the rear shows off the splendor of my derriere....I can hear the bottle fall out of his mouth...with my hands on my hips, I turn my head around and **giggle**
"Honey, come on now, finish up your bottle. You know you'll feel better for it. You know that pain will just melt away."

And there I still stand...tall, statuesque...womanly, sexy...in control of the situation...he's drinking his milk down to the last drop....

I then hear him burp...

I face him and **giggle** again...in my sexy voice I say....
"See, that wasn't so bad. Now let's get you to bed."

I escort him to bed....while there, I remain fully in control...I decide to take care of that big hard-on of his, but do a lot more than that...I lay him down and sit up, on top of him....remove my bra, remove my panties, remove my heels...I keep my garter and my stockings on and make love to him like he's never been made love to before...he accepts it and both of us orgasm....

....what a wonderful way to get him to take his medicine...

 

[Ben Robertson]

This is like a drugg. The best drug ever made.

I know I know ha ha it is a drug. It's my medicin. But it tastes so good so warm an sweet her mlk and makes mee feel so good the pain is just mmelting away...i love her milk...

"Okay honey, go ahead and drink up..."

the drug makes me feel better more relaxed too. and looking up at her, standin over me on the couch, i think how i wwas scared to take this before. scared of what it would look like and what she would think seeing me drink from a bottle. but As i drink at it my worrys just sort of ffade away...i'm okay ssucking sucking...i love her mmilk...

the drug does huuhuh other things to me too i can't stop looking at her big boobs above me, she's so pretty she's a fox a big curvy fox i'm getting a big bigg boner especially when she...oh my god...leans over...

"Darling, not too fast. Now keep drinking slowly..."

..my heart skips beats at the sweetness in her voice she sounds like she loves me again and my eyes pop out and i look at her big breasts in her big black bra she looks like she's going to burst it and i think i want to bury my face in them and i think how big are they what's her bra size now? and I would ask her but i have this bottle in my mouth and i have to do what she wants. she wants me to drink it and drink it and finish it...oh god her breasts are so big...

"Good....Keep going honey...Keep drinking honey...finish up your bottle..."

my bad inhibitions are dissolving i can feel them, i want to say things i wouldn't normally say. i can feel how much i love her and i want to tell her and yay i'm almost done with my bottle so i can...

<*burp*>

that makes her giggle, and i smile as i take the bottle out of my mouth, all done!

"See, that wasn't so bad..." she purrrrs.

She takes the bottle from me and smiles down at me. I smile back up at her and from below i tell her i'm sorry.

"Ah-ah-ahm sorry Milly I'm sorry," feeling the emotion well in my eyes and my cock push itself around my pants, "I'm sorry I w-was angry...you were right...I l-love you..."

She coos down at me with an Awwwww... and her smile is so warm and pretty i hope she forgives me.

"Now let's get you to bed..." she says.

She doesn't sound mad, she sounds happy! She offers me a hand and helps me stand. I stand up straight and my smile quickly drops.

She's looking down at me. Way down. Her eyes are sparkling.

She's giggling, looking down at me. She's wearing tall, tall heels and she's much taller than me here. Her smile is content, satisfied now that i've done what i was supposed to. now that i've listened to her she's happy again, happy with me, happy with everything. is she happy that she's taller than me?

But it's only for a moment that we stand like this, before she takes my hand and leads me to the stairs. she leads me up the stairs and swings her curvy woman's hips in front of me to watch. i'm feeling great and i spank her on the way up and she laughs and she runs ahead of me until we're both in the bedroom.

This makes it all better.

I'm a little embarrassed that i'm being so passive, letting her take off my shirt, lay me down in bed, pull my pants from me. I tell her that too, how i feel. i'm talking a lot, saying things i wouldn't nrmally say. But she's cooing to me, telling me it's alright, and she's sitting on top of me. she's...

...oh god...

this is the best sex of my life. the view is incredible. watching her big big tits, my hands on her narrow waist feeling the flare and the bulgde of her hips. i'm telling her how beautiful she is how sorry i am. i'm looking right a her breasts now i can't...god...look away. Hope I'm not staring too much being too adoring of her breasts but she tells me she loves me too and that it's alright...my hands reach up they're so big so soft in my hands they're big and soft. she tells me it's alright she tells me...

oh god she's coming, isn't she? she's coming on top of me and i...

...uuUUUUUunnnngggh....

...

Soon she's laying next to me in bed, smiling, playing with my hair, and asks if i'm hungry. Though i was hungry before, when the pain was with me, strangely i'm not anymore. I'm just really tired. She says she's famished. She had made dinner earlier, before i got home. She kisses me, and goes down to eat, leaving me here to sleep.

I've had a hard day, and i need it. now that we're not fighting, tomorrow will be better...

 

[Ben Robertson]

I wake to the sound of a breast pump.

It's Saturday morning. We have no where to go. But it's early and she's in the extra bedroom down the hall. I can hear it from here. It's not a quiet contraption, that thing, buzzing and whirring and humming. It takes her about twenty minutes to finish, and in the meantime I try not to picture the scene. Those huge breasts, with the cup of the pump pulling milk from them whirr whirr whirr. What I'm picturing, instead, is the moment when I go downstairs. Because that's where she'll have it for me.

And there it is. It's waiting for me on the breakfast table as I walk in, in my pajamas. She has her back to me, making coffee, thin robe pulled tightly around her wide hips. She turns around and smiles a good morning, but the bottle on the table is the elephant in the room.

Today is going to be a better day but it's not going to start out like this. I agree, the treatment through the bottle was much better. No stomach pain at all. Next time I need one I'll take it from the bottle, sucking it slowly so it enters my body properly. But today, this morning, I feel fine, and I don't relish the thought of any more humiliation than I absolutely need. I don't know what she'll say when I explain this, and my pulse quickens a bit, preparing for conflict. But I tell her, in the most casual voice I can manage, that I don't want the bottle this morning. Next time the pain starts to come on...we can do it then.

She just smiles, and tells me that's fine. She understands.

Wow, that was easy.

Breakfast is also easy: she's in a great mood! She pours my coffee, brings me my paper. Makes me a fried egg when I don't touch the scrambled ones. Insists I have to at least try to eat some toast. I'm really not all that hungry. She pouts prettily and I joke with her...her cooking needs some work! She swats me with my paper and tells me to go get dressed.

I had yard work to do today but she insists I rest. I had a hard week! Okay, okay, I agree...I'll relax until after lunch. I want to keep her happy. Still in her robe, she sits me into the easy chair, props my feet up, sets my paper up next to me and turns on the television. What a peach! She's going up to dress, she says, and asks if I need anything else.

"Not a thing, honey!" I reply, and set myself to reading the news.

Maybe an hour goes by - gals and their morning routine! - but when she shows up on the stairs...va-va-voom!

It's her green "wiggle dress", a tight little number, stretchy material with a scoop neck that I've seen her in before. But never before has there been this much "wiggle" in that "wiggle dress".

click-click-click come her heels down the stairs, and as she reaches the bottom I see that they're high, very high. Stilettos, they call them. In a matching green. Hair done up, makeup flawless. She's certainly dressed to the nines for a relaxing Saturday at home...

"Well don't y-you look like a million bucks," I tell her, setting down my paper. Her curves are absolutely incredible in this outfit, and there is a confidence in her walk that doubles the effect she's having on me. She's a total sexpot, and my pulse is climbing even now, just sitting here, as she approaches. She comes to stand next to where I sit, runs a hand languidly through my hair, and asks if I need anything.

"What I might need you to do..." I say with a crooked smile and the most assertive voice I can manage, "is take off those heels so I can stand up and give you a kiss..."

 

[Devilla-Roche]

Smiling.....
"Sure thing Ben."

I take off my heels and we stand toe to toe...what becomes apparent, by both of us is our height difference...clearly he's shrunk, but that much! It's hard to believe....the doctors didn't predict that it would happen like this, sort of like the reverse of a growth spurt...not wanting to make it worst, because I can read his mind already, Ben's a bit alarmed, I can tell....

So I kiss him quickly, get my gorgeous lips right on his....

As I stand there, my neck extended downward, something deep inside me is stirred...I am taller than my husband...no wife is taller than her husband...hmmm....I feel a faint blush of giddiness inside of me....why does this make me happy? What woman wants to be taller than her husband? Its just not normal to want that right? But I continue to kiss him, my arms around his neck, one of my hands embracing the back of his head...

Is it a feeling of...no, it can't be....Milly Robertson, how or why can you think like that? Somehow, the giddiness does not go away...our kiss brakes apart and I immediately put my new heels back on....it becomes more evident, almost blinding now...p-o-w-e-r...a sheer sense of power, power of strength, power of mind, power of wills...I feel a wonderful, zesty feeling of being in charge of Ben, especially as our height difference widens more...what happens when he is only five feet tall? Four feet tall? Or, even three feet tall? What will I feel like then? And, more importantly, how can we have the same relationship now when Ben is three feet tall? He'll be the height of a small child he'll....

A long, almost devilish smile runs across my face...a new day has come up for Milly Robertson...it all makes sense to me now...

 

[Devilla-Roche]

As the day wears on, I can see Ben going through all the tell-tale signs of his disease...he is in pain, it's obvious and I confront him with this, while I'm making my roast...

"Ben, you have to let me give you a bottle tonight. Your in pain. I can see it. Listen darling, you know that I love to see you fighting this as much as you have. That is admirable, but sometimes you have to do as the doctors have ordered. Your still shrinking, there's no denying it. You saw that this morning when we kissed. Now tell me you'll take the bottle?"

*******************

We get through dinner...I eat for two people and Ben hardly eats at all...I get worried when he denies himself some food....he says he's not hungry...I think he's losing some weight...this is something we need to tell the doctor at our next visit....

*******************

It's half past nine...an early bedtime these days, but Ben seems to get more and more tired earlier...I begin to get excited...it's feeding time for him...I go into the guest bedroom and express my milk...after I'm done, I have brought with me a new outfit to wear to the bedroom...a baby pink peignoir pom pom chiffon nightgown...I put it on excitedly and look in the full length mirror....Ben is going to love the neckline on this....gosh, it really does show of my bosom....I run my index finger up and down along my cleavage and just smile...then I put on the new pair of pink Marabou slippers...they have a 6" heel...maybe I should wear flats and be more sensitive to Ben's height issue, but somehow I can't and I won't....

I slither back into our bedroom, smiling mischievously, and see Ben reading the paper....

"Oh Ben, oh Benny darling. It's time to be fed."

...I take the nipple and pull down Ben's paper...he looks to be ready, he can no longer fight it....

I try to persuade him to let me feed him...it is very obvious, that he is already fixated on my boobs....I'll use that to my advantage....in a sultry, seductive tone....
"Ben, why don't I feed you. You just might like that. Don't be embarrassed. ~I pull his paper away~ Let me do all the work. ~I bend forward, my tits practically in his face~ ~now begging with a slight purr~ C'mon take the bottle for me, take it for your loving Milly."

 

[Ben Robertson]

Over my paper, I smile first as my eyes obviously goggle at this vision that just stepped into my bedroom. Even with those silly tall heels...well, especially with those heels...she looks amazing. But then my smile drops, and I pull up my paper again. She has a bottle.

I had just heard her pumping in the other room, but had assumed she was going to "pump and dump". She had done it earlier this afternoon, telling me she needs to relieve herself three times a day now. So I'm surprised she has this bottle with her; even though the pain has already started to creep in, I specifically told her I wanted to wait for tomorrow for my next treatment. She conceded, earlier, agreeing, but now it seems she has different ideas...

"It's time to be fed..."

Did she just say "fed"?

Even through my paper I can feel her saunter across the room. She pulls down my paper, and replaces it with a mind-numbing view of her cleavage. My eyes goggle again and though I want to turn away, I can't.

She begins laying it on thick...very thick. Wh-what...what is she doing..?

"Ben, why don't I feed you. You just might like that..."

She said 'feed' again....

"...w-w-w-wh-wha...? M-m-Milly, n-"

She hushes me with a shhhhh...

"Don't be embarrassed...."

The paper has been pulled fully out of my hands...the perfume coming off her approaching chest is amazing...

"...Let me do all the work..."

"M-m-m-..Milly, c'mon..." Oh god what is she doing? What is she saying?

The swell of her bosom over the neckline of her nightee is a voluptuous spectacle, a blatant demonstration of how she's developed. I've never seen her look this big...i-is she even b-bigger than..?

"...C'mon take the bottle for me, take it for your loving Milly..."

As she comes even closer, the air between us warming with the heat of her bosom, it takes all my resolve to...

...turn away, onto my side, away from her.

"N-not tonight, Milly..." I manage, my voice sounding smaller than I want. I clamp my eyes shut and steel myself for what's coming next...will she be mad?

...but then a pause, and I hear the "clink" of glass on wood as she places the bottle on my nightstand, and slides into bed next to me...

 

[Devilla-Roche]

Such a child, he's being...okay, I can play that game, but I'm going to have to still use my wiles and get this husband of mine, this shrinking husband of mine fed...

In a very cutsy, giggly tone...I run my finger along his arm and then down to Ben's stomach...
"What's the matter Ben? ~I blow in his ear~ Don't you want me to feed you?"

 

[Ben Robertson]

...f-f-feed?

"N-no Milly...I-I don't n-need a treatment tonight..."

Oh god I can't believe this...her breasts are so soft on my back....and I'm suddenly so hard...

 

[Devilla-Roche]

I play with his hair with my left hand, rub his tummy with my other hand and continue to convince him to have his medicine....

His hard-on, which is becoming like clockwork now gives me the edge I need to convince him to not only have his medicine, but for me to feed him, as in 'my arms'...

"Darling," I move my rught hand from his stomach over his cock..his pajamas hid nothing, "what if I rub you down there, make you feel real good down there while I feed you?"

~I push my huge breasts harder into his backside, while I rub him down between his legs~

 

[Ben Robertson]

...oh christ...

"M-Milly...n-no..." I groan, as her hand finds my cock...

...but my "no" is not strong enough...

 

[Devilla-Roche]

I do a few maneuvers, and find to my surprise, that I am quite deft..either that or Ben feels lighter to me..hmmm...I turn Ben around to face me, pull off his pajama bottom and his boxers all in one shot, pull him into me and up and cradle him in my arms, I sit up, and there he is, like a huge baby in my arms...

I grab the bottle and feed him with my left hand and start to jerk him off with my right...somehow, it is a strange feeling for me, maternal, like a mother, loving like a wife to be feeding him and pleasuring him at the same time...Ben looks extremely content to, happy to be fed, to be taken care of and also being relieved sexually...could this be the most strangest thing yet feel so normal, at least to me anyway....

 

[Ben Robertson]

...oh my god what is she..? She's pulling me over, onto my back, towards her, and I'm letting her do it. She's pulling my pajamas from me, and I'm letting her do it. She's got an arm underneath my shoulders and - when did she get so strong? - she's cradling me to her as she sits. And I'm letting her do it.

I know what she wants to do, I can see it, I know it. I can't let it happen but I'm helpless...I've wanted it for so long...but I'm afraid...

It's the body. I'm helpless, in the presence of that body. Since her treatment she's become...this...this...

Oh my god her breasts she's holding me to her breasts. She has my face turned towards them and I'm staring at the smooth white skin, and the veins below, of her huge new breasts. Her cleavage is full and taut and deep and the air coming from her...I breathe it in and I'm helpless I'll let her do it I'll let her do anything she wants I'll...

...unnnnnhhh...her hand is around my cock and she's stroking me, slowly, letting me stare into her cleavage as she pillows my face. She's cooing to me, cooing my name, stroking my cock slowly, slowly until I start to moan. Her hand leaves me for a moment and I know what's happening. She's putting a pillow below my head, and she's reaching...she's putting it in her other hand and as her right hand lifts me again from my belly to resume, I clamp my eyes shut but the nipple of the baby bottle finds my lips...

I'm helpless at her chest, and I open...and I take it...and I suck...I suck...I suck and I find a rhythm and I...I let her bottle feed me. I let her feed me my treatment...I let her feed me my milk.

Her left breast is pressed into my cheek, through the chiffon of her nightgown, and she squashes it into me encouragingly as I...as I...as I start to feel the milk work its way into me...relaxing me...mmmmm...<suck suck sukk>...mmmHmmm...

...this iz...this is everything...

 

[Devilla-Roche]

In my subtle motherly tones....
"That's it. That's a good Ben. You just relax. Let your loving wife Milly feed you. Let me take care of you. Let me help feed you, relieve you. Let me help to get rid of all that tension, all that worry. Your in my bosom now, rest and relax. Let me do it all for you. You'll see. By tomorrow you'll feel better and the pain will have gone away."

I continue to jerk-off his cock...I can see it in his face...that feeling of guttural happiness...he loves this, he wants to be relieved...he wants to be fed like this...a mother knows....did I say that!...Milly Robertson what a slip of your Freudian tongue...then I look down at his face...he's content, in my arms....hmm, maybe, just maybe it makes sense...

I look on still and watch as Ben's body tightens up for a few moments, his veiny cock goes into its usual rhythm of becoming very erect and then going into a spasm...I look on as one ejaculation follows another...this time about nine times....come flies in every direction, including on my chiffon nightgown...I look on in amazement, my hand layered with his gelatinous goo...

My attention quickly turns back to his feeding...Ben's body and face deflate, and go into a relaxed sleepy state...the comparison to a baby is uncanny, especially when I pull the bottle out of him and turn him towards me more, his face deeply buried in my bosom...he burps...I giggle and can't help but say out loud....

"That's a good boy. Why don't we clean things up in the morning. It's the weekend. No work. We'll sleep in late."

I put the empty bottle down, and keep him in my bosom...I don't even fuss with putting his pajamas back on...I do however grab a tissue and wipe my hands...then I turn off the lights and we both go to sleep....

 

[Ben Robertson]

Why am I out here?

It's cold.

Why am I out here, in my pajamas?

It's...is it even 6am? The sun isn't up, I'm doing this to the streetlights.

I shouldn't be raking leaves at 5am.

<rake rake rake>

What had I let her do to me last night?

Why can't I...? And why did I..?

Why am I out here?

It's cold.

Is it even 6am?

<rake rake rake>

 

[Devilla-Roche]

I get up...

He's not in bed...I'm naked...a smile runs across my face...that was so lovely last night...I enjoyed feeding Ben like that...I think he wants to be pampered like that, I think he wants me to do other things for him, personal things for him, only things that a wife can do, but do in...

I see Ben outside, he's raking leaves in the backyard....I get out of bed, put on my robe, and get his robe...he's half naked....is he crazy....

I make a dash for him...
"Darling, oh sweet darling, what are you doing?"

I grab the rake and throw it to the ground...I smile at him and get his robe on....
"Oh sweetheart, your going to catch a cold out here, why don't you let me take you inside."

I walk him back inside...he says nothing....he looks like he is overwhelmed...maybe about last night...instead of broaching the subject right now I decide a shower is a good thing for him, actually a bath, might be better....I escort him into the bathroom and sit him on the toilet....I draw the bath and get it nice and warm....as the water flows into the bathtub, I let my robe drop from my body, I then stand next to Ben, and pull his head into my tummy...I rub the back of his head and then speak....
"Ben, you are a bit needy these days. You know it and I know it. Don't worry, it's all right. You are going through a lot. I'm here for you Ben, I'm here to make things feel a lot better. Know that you can come to me."

I pull him up and help him in the tub....I turn off the faucet and do everything for him....I wash his body down....soap him up, rinse him off and soap him up again....I wash his feet, I wash his face, I wash his penis and his balls - and I do so lovingly - I pamper him down in every way...help him out of the tub, dry him off with a towel...he doesn't say much...he stands there like a little boy...somehow I love this Ben...so many maternal feelings come out...I want to do more things for him, so I decide to shave him...I lather his face, shave him with his razor....I sing while I do this, enjoying every moment...then I wash his face off with a wash cloth and dry his face too....

"There you go, nice and clean and fully shaven."

I bend down a bit, as I find myself having to do and kiss him on the lips...I then place his robe back around him...I go to the bathroom...after about ten minutes, he is still sitting there...I should be worried, but somehow I like him this way....passive...nothing wrong with passive....I decide to keep helping him....I pick out his clothes and dress him...from his shirt to his pants to his socks...I get on my knees and put his shoes on for him...I walk him into the breakfast nook and sit him down at the table....I get his newspaper and place it in front of him....

"Darling, I still have a few things to do. I have to take a shower and get dressed. Then I'll come out and make you breakfast, okay."

He shakes his head yes, silently and I leave him alone with his paper and his thoughts.....

 

[Ben Robertson]

It's the sound of the breast pump upstairs that rouses me, finally.

I'm sitting at the breakfast table, right? Yes. And she's upstairs, right? She's...she's pumping...

My body shudders.

What...what have I let her do with me, over these past twelve hours? I...I let her give me my bo-...my treatment, last night, in bed, like I was an infant. Who allows that? What kind of man am I?! I let her feed me like a baby, and I...and we...

I let her hold me, I let her coddle me. She was jerking me off, I was rutting into her hand like some pathetic...christ! What's come over me! When did I...?

When did I let this turn me on so much?!

I'm sweating, suddenly, sitting here in the breakfast nook, with bright, November morning sunshine pouring over me. I close my eyes and try to let myself think.

There were all those dreams, last night. I...I don't...I can't...

...they were her, weren't they? How much was dream? How much was real? And then, when I woke...

Good god...what was I doing? Was I raking leaves? In the dark? Before sunrise? I shudder anew, hoping I wasn't seen by our neighbors, or anyone driving down the street. They'll think I'm going crazy! And...and Milly. What must she think? I know I have to try to be strong and...and...but...but...

She took me inside, didn't she? And bathed me, clothed me? She brought me down to this table, sat me here. And now she's upstairs...pumping. I could refuse. But I'm waiting for her, passively. Like a docile weakling, like I've been all morning, like I was last night. But it's understandable, right? I'm sick, right? It would be so easy to...to just keep...

The noise of the pump stops.

<the sound of footsteps upstairs, then coming down.>

oh my god what am i going to do? am i going to..?

<click click click> on the wood floors of the living room.

She walks in to the kitchen dressed for church in a turquoise twill suit and hat with large fabric flowers. She's carrying a small turquoise and silver hand bag and bottle, full. Seeing me look at it, and then stare at her - apparently still at a loss for words - she cocks her head and smiles as she approaches.

I'm...I'm still not talking. I'm pretending I can't...I want her to...

I can't believe I'm going to...let her...do this...again...

 

[Devilla-Roche]

I place the bottle on the table....in a very chipper sounding voice I say....
"Okay Ben, why don't you have another bottle."

He stares at it then me saying nothing...I lightly stroke his head with my white gloved hand...
"Now come on Ben, you've got to keep up your strength."

He still looks at me...
"You know you don't want all that pain. Now drink up."

Again, he looks at it and then me....

I smile....In a cutesy sounding voice...
"Oh, I get it. You want me to feed you again, right? Like I did last night, right?

...he shakes his head slowly to say yes....

"Well-l-l... I won't be able to do it exactly like last night. And besides, I need to make breakfast and then go to church."

I pick up the bottle and bring it up to his lips and push the nipple into his mouth...he takes the bottle and drinks...I look down at him and smile...I still stroke his head...Ben doesn't quite look at me...he looks at my bosom...more and more he is fixated with it...somehow that doesn't bother me....I mean I'm feeling more and more maternal...he IS feeding out of a bottle...he has that look of a baby looking at his mother...somehow this all feels so...right...to an outsider this seems wrong, but to me it seems so normal, as if Ben and I should be doing this all along...

As he feeds he gets hard....I can see the lump in his pants...I'm contemplating on telling the doctors more about this, but they might just shake their heads and explain that his reaction is a side effect to the medicine...besides, what harm does it really bring?

So, I bend forward and let my available hand rub his pajamas...at times I grab his cock, with his pajamas and boxers wrapped around my hand and around his hard dick....I can hear his moaning....finally he finishes his bottle, but not without lots of moaning along the way...his body gets to a point where he stiffens up...grunts out loud a few times and ejaculates into his boxers....

I get up, smile, and kiss him on the forehead....
"Well, I see somebody has soiled himself again! Oh, whatever shall I do with you Ben Robertson? Put you in diapers!"

I walk away...
"Well, your fed. I'm not going to have time to clean you. I have to start breakfast. You'll clean yourself up when I'm at church."

Ten minutes later, eggs, bacon, and toast is served along with coffee and juice....I eat light this morning, only four eggs for myself...

I watch Ben eat...it is evident that he feels a bit like a child sitting there in his own mess....somehow, I like him like that...I love that he needs me so much....I love that he relies on me more and more...I so much want to be his loving wife and so much more....

We finish breakfast....
"Okay, okay Ben. I'll clean you up."

I get a wash cloth and a clean towel and remove his pajama bottoms and boxers....I clean him up lickity-split, dry him off with the towel and put on a clean pair of boxers and pajama bottoms...

"All right, it looks like I have a lot of wash to do later, thanks to you," I smile, "but I have to get to church. I'll also clean the kitchen when I get back."

I give him a kiss on his forehead and click-clack my heels out the door and drive myself to our local church, making it just before the reverend makes his way down the aisle...

 

[Ben Robertson]

I can't believe I'm doing this...

<suck suck suck>

I asked her for it.

<suck suck suck>

I don't need it...I'm not in any pain...I could wait for another treatment until tonight or even tomorrow...

<suck suck suck>

but I want it...

<suck suck suck>

this feeling of her hand in my hair, her comforting voice...something about being so close to her...being taken car of by her...

Yes, she still thinks I'm in shock...am I playing that believable enough? But it's still so humiliating. She's treating me so kind, so gentle, she's pampering me like a child. And I like it. She's placed herself right in front of me, presenting a view of her chest - though it shows no skin, the bodice of her green dress of tailored wool just emphasizes how formidable her new bosom is. But still I can't look at her, the indignity is too great, and I cast my eyes down. What kind of man am I? How can I let her do this? How can I find this so...exciting...?

<suck suck suckkk>

The worries and the shame - though they're making my pulse race and skin crawl - they suddenly start to melt as the familiar warm feeling her milk brings washes over me...

mmmmmMmmmmmm.....

Sh'es stroking my head and she's cooing to me its sooo nicce. Her voice is nice, the...perfeume shes wearing is soo nice. Her chest is right there....I look at it it's so biggg...

<ssuck ssuk suckk>

Before I nkow it her hand is on my crotch between my legs and shes stroking me. It helps it really does it feels so nice its...god llook at her chest she's got her shoulders back for me its so bigg...

<suk suck succk>

its so big she's so bigg its so good its so good M so good Mmmm...

i can feel myself whining behind the bottle

<suck suckk suuckk suckkkk...>

ii come into my pantttttttsss.....

<suckk suck...>

and i'm all done...

and i'm a i'm a mess and she...she's smiling at it, laughing

"Oh, whatever shall I do with you Ben Robertson? Put you in diapers?"

i smile at her joke

i watch her cook, watch her eat. i try too eat too but i'm not so hungry. i'm starting to feel bad. The effects of the milk ar starting to wear off quickr than before; the shame begins to return as she's cleaning me. I'm still sitting in the kitchen and I hope she doesn't notice the change in my face or expression. Jesus christ what did I just let her do to me, again?

Oh god Ben just sit here and watch, be quiet. Pretend. Try to keep that dumb smile on as she's saying goodbye to you. Tell her to have a nice time at church. Tell her Yes I'll sit and relax here on the couch thank you. Watch the swing of her impressive hips as she leaves.

The door closes.



Try to keep from screaming.

Hands in my hair, rocking back and forth on the couch, it's all I can do to keep from crying out. What's happening to me!?! I was...I was raking leaves in the middle of the night! I'm...I'm crumbling into a...a helpless, pathetic milksop. Am I going crazy?! Am I having a...a nervous breakdown?!

I get up from the couch.

It's...it's Milly, with the nerves. It's her. She'sthe crazy one. It's always been her I've had to worry about. Since early in our marriage, since she was told she can't bear children. It's always been Milly that's the fragile one, the one that had to take the nerve pills. The one I had to walk on eggshells around at times. Avoid certain topics, certain situations, so as not to upset her.

I'm walking up the stairs, struggling to keep my too-large slippers from tripping me.

It's never been me! I'm solid strong cool calm collected. A man. Stable. Hide my weaknesses and conceal my shortcomings. But with my sickness and now the mind-fuck of these treatments...it's so hard! I...I'm not the same...

I'm in our bedroom. At her dresser. I feel the shame redouble itself as I pull open her drawer. I just came less than an hour ago but I'm hard again already. I've been waiting for this moment, home alone by myself, for days.

I shouldn't feel too bad, right? The times of weakness when my mind leaves me during a treatment, that relaxed delirium I feel for a bit - that's understandable. During those times I'm not myself. I shouldn't feel bad about...

Oh god it's so big.

Before I took it out, I tried to memorize the way she has them arranged, here in her lingerie drawer: her bras. I always try to do that. But all caution is thrown to the wind as I hold this new, silky bra of beige satin in my hands in front of me.

Maidenform 34EE. Oh shit 34EE. She's a fucking 34EE.

My pajama pants are pulled down to my knees and I'm fucking jerking off already. I open up the cup to see its size and stare at that tag 34EE 34EE 34EE my eyes goggling. She's fucking grown so big she's fucking huge now her tits are full of milk full of milk for meeeeeeeeee.....

I crumple the bra in my hand, clamp my eyes shut.

oh my god oh my god oh my god...

I fucking just jerked off again to her bras.

I'm panting, panting.

What the hell is wrong with me?!?