I had just started to feel a little better. Takeoff was a success and we weren’t going to die. Melis
I had just started to feel a little better. Takeoff was a success and we weren’t going to die. Melissa’s right hand was still on mine, now on my left thigh, holding it there to comfort me through liftoff. But she had since turned to look out the window - and had given me the chance to ogle her huge tits in profile…an opportunity I surreptitiously took. Lord god they seemed bigger every time I saw her. This fine morning, en route down south to our conference, she looked absolutely ready to burst out of her tight white top. I’d been outright staring at her chest for nearly a minute. “Everything looks so small from up here!” she marveled, gazing down at the disappearing cityscape as we climbed into the clouds. Christ, her breasts were enormous. “I like small things, don’t you?” she asked as she casually arched her back, completely unaware that I was still absolutely goggling in wonderment at the bulge and projection of her giant breasts. Small? I mused, lost in the reverie of this private, furtive moment I was sharing with her knockers. There is -nothing- small about this overgrown girl…Wait. Had she asked me a question?“Uhhh…” I began. If she was expecting a reply, it didn’t seem to trouble her. “Everything is cuter when it’s smaller, right?” she quipped, still distracted by the view out the window as I continued to be captured by the view of her mind-blowing torso, “Like, kittens. Cats are cuter when they’re smaller, right? Just like little cars…super cute. Little tiny purses, carrots, brilliant little doctors…cute, cute, cute when they’re smaller.”Wait what?I tore my eyes off her chest just in time to avoid being caught as she quickly turned back to me, smiling with mischief. Jesus! Obviously she saw a reaction on my face that gave her pause. “Oh, I’m sorry…!” she said with sudden concern, eyes going wide, “We really haven’t been able to talk, since Friday…are you okay?”“Wh-what…what do you mean?”“The…the ‘little doctor’ comment,” she began to explain with chagrin, “I was just trying to be funny…”“Yeah thanks for reminding me,” I said, chuckling, recovering. It may sound weird but over the past couple days, since the ignominious measurement fiasco at the department store, I’d actually come to a certain peace about my height,or new lack thereof. I was not the (almost) 5’11” I thought I was. Somehow, since I last remember my height having been measured, I’d lost two inches…at least.If I knew then, sitting in the plane, what I know now I would be mourning much more than a lost couple inches. Any sane person - especially a medical professional like myself - wouldn’t be going to a conference with their busty co-worker: they’d be rushing to get investigative testing. But the idea, the fact that I was 5’8” was beginning to bother me less. I was actually a little proud of myself, being so relaxed about it….what’s the big deal, right? I now realize, though, that my psyche had already been deeply changed, an early part of this whole process that’s brought me..here, to where I’m speaking to you today. I was just none the wiser.“Really, everything’s fine, it’s normal,” I assured Melissa, fiddling with my seat belt and convincing myself I sounded brave and unperturbed, “these things happen when one gets older.”“Omigod you are not old,” she howled, slapping my shoulder with her free hand, “you’re only…” Her eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Uh…”“…more than ten years older than you,” I said wryly. Is there a reason she’s still holding my hand?She smiled, eyes glittering, inspecting me. “Yes, but…” she said, “Three inches though?? That’s…weird, right?””Well, sure. But the last time I measured my own height was probably, like, many years ago,” I said, hoping I was sounding calm, “so it’s happened slowly, over like five or ten y-““I dunno,” she interrupted, “I feel like you’ve definitely shr…gotten shorter just since I’ve known you.” She looked me over, up and down. “But maybe it’s more…me.””What do you mean?” I asked, as I noticed her adjust her bra over her left shoulder and then turn to look again, wistfully, out the window. “Oh, nothing…” she replied, “It’s just that with this new little growth spurt I’m having, maybe my perspective is…”Just then, the tall, blond flight attendant showed up aside me. “You two look like you need some champagne,” she offered, lowering a tray of well-filled flutes down between us. “Oooo yes!” Melissa squealed as she turned back, smiling, to take a drink, releasing my hand. I took a glass as well.After the stewardess had moved on, we clinked. “Cheers,” Melissa giggled.After a brief pause, and a sip, she continued. “But, really, what about you, Dr. J?” Melissa asked, as she pivoted a bit more at the waist towards me, “You seemed scared the other day, when she told you that you were 5'8”. How are you feeling?”She really wanted to talk about this, huh? ”Oh, u-uh…heheh..” I began, “I don’t know about “scared…” My mouth suddenly dry, I took another swig. “I mean, nobody liked to be told they’re sh-shorter than they think they are…”“Especially a guy, right?” she added earnestly, ”it must be sort of…emasculating.” She bit her lower lip, as if eager for my answer. “Well, I was never a big macho guy so…” My voice trailed off, as I looked at Melissa. I was able to keep eye contact, for a bit, but I was slowly being struck by, well, her size. The physicality of it. She was taller than me, probably stronger than me, just all-around bigger than me. And suddenly, in that moment, I was becoming overwhelmed by the feeling of being…lesser. I glanced down, at my drink, into my lap. “Hey, c’mon, you never know,” she said, easily reading my reaction, “there may be some positives! Even if you do get even smaller.” She leaned into me, playfully bumping me with her right shoulder, giggling. “Positives?” I asked."Yes!” she continued, eagerly, “You heard the sales lady the other day. Girls all want shorter boys. It’s true, totally. It’s fashionable to be with a smaller guy, to be seen as a couple like that. People love size in women these days…” Almost imperceptibly, Melissa straightened in her seat. “That’s why you see so many women in the gym, getting big, bulking up,” she explained, “They want their big butts, big backs and shoulders and arms. It’s all to make their man look small.” It’s funny. I had heard this, other places. Read about it. “a-and…you?” I asked, hating immediately the prurient interest in my voice, “y-you go to the gym a lot?”At that she laughed, and turned to look out the window again. I watched as, through her tight, long sleeve tee, her back muscles bulged, swelling against her top. I took the second to appreciate her muscularity, the dramatic “V” of her torso, fit shoulders tapering down to tiny waist. As I watched, her lats flexed, bulging further. It was subtle but also dramatic, this display of their obvious strength, more bulk than you might immediately think, looking at her. She was by no means “thick”; the musculature looked absolutely feminine and alluring. But was she doing it on purpose? Showing off a little?“I do go to the gym a lot,” she mused, turning back towards me, “I’m lucky, I get big quick.”“Y-you do, huh?” I answered dumbly.“Yeah, I do,” she continued, “It’s all genetics. My father was some sort of athlete, I guess. When I was modelling I had to be careful. I was told I could be a bodybuilder. But…” At that, for some reason, she stopped herself. Almost like she was about to say too much. “But now I don’t have to worry.”Ashamed at myself, I wanted to hear more…even at the risk of sounding too engrossed. “Y-you like that look?” I asked, “Getting…bigger?”“I dunno,” she replied with a disarming smile, casually shrugging, “But like I said, It’s totally in, that look, big girls. My gym is almost all women now, most are the same. You don’t see guys as much.”“R-really?”“MMhm,” she answered, sipping her champagne, “Know why? It’s the thing, little skinny guys. No one wants a meathead these days. So, look on the bright side: if you’re smaller, three inches, you’re just getting cuter. More attractive.”“Oh stop it I’m married,” I reminded her, feeling myself both blush and recoil. My skin crawled, thinking of Sheryl, of where things had gotten between us.“Well, she may not say it but I’m sure Sheryl likes it,” Melissa countered, “When they go out with their guy every girl wants to look fashionable.”What was she doing? Painting a picture for me where my wife and I strolled into a restaurant, Sheryl towering over me by six inches with a huge smile on her face? Melissa knew how chilly things were in my marriage. What was she saying?“And, anyway…” she continued, “maybe you’d like it, too, if you were a little smaller. If it just means everything else, everyone else looks bigger…”“Wh-what?”“C’mon…” she said, as a subtle waft of her perfume found its way up into me. Her voice had dropped. I noticed now that we had leaned in already, closer to one another like conspirators, and this just drew me in closer. “I mean, there are more and more guys on the internet every day who are really into that sorta thing. Guys being smaller….smaller than their girlfriend, smaller than their wife. Smaller than women in general.” She took another sip of her drink, waited for me to follow and take a sip of mine. “Some guys want to be a lot smaller than women,” she continued, cryptically, “It’s crazy…”She looked at me. Raised her eyebrows. Regarded me.“R-really..?”“Yeah…” she replied, “I get messages you wouldn’t believe…” ================================Agh, okay. Finally. Thanks again everyone for your patience. This one was hard fought, and I’m afraid through all this they’ll still be slow to come. But hope you all enjoy- -- source link