Going Down? free porn video

“Perfectly healthy.” I remember the very words that my doctor spoke like it was yesterday. How wrong she was! Here I am, nearing thirty years old, now the smallest man that the world has ever known...
 
It started a few months back when I filled a temporary position working for a environmental clean-upcrew, trying to help make ends meet until one of my job applications for a managerial position in retail came through. I was delighted to be finishing my last day of manual labor on the land fill site and had just completed the task of clearing away some overspill refuse when the spade I was using struck and pierced a metallic cylinder half covered by the veritable spaghetti of waste. A blast of highly compressed gas blew out of the split I had made in the canister and for a second I was coughing and spluttering in the resulting pink cloud that wrapped around me. Whatever it was, it had an intense, though not entirely unpleasant, odor, almost like a strong perfume. The mist evaporated into the air in seconds but left me with a strange taste in the back of my mouth for a while. I was so concerned at what I had inhaled that I preceded to uncover the source of the gas and cleared the garbage from around it. The canister was non-descript, a completely plain non-painted metal cylinder. The only distinguishing mark was an engraving on the base. It read “Test batch 34 unit 307, DOH ref 0045”
 
“Damn it!” I swore, cussing a few more times after. It was something that once belonged to the Health Department. What was it doing here? Hell, it could be dangerous. There had to be regulations for the disposal of medical goods.

I ended up having trouble breathing after a few hours and my supervisor, concerned for my well being, made sure I went straight in to see my GP, Doctor Valerie Richards, which seemed a logical action. They even sealed up the canister and made me bring it along. I was about an hour in the waiting room and finally went into see the doctor, who tested my almost asthmatic wheezing and was a little concerned that the gas might have contained some sort of chemical irritant. She wanted to run some tests, pretty routine stuff she said, for such a case of “accidental exposure to an undefined chemical source” as she put it. As thorough as my doctor always was, she proposed to make inquiries about the canister, which I duly left with her hoping at the back of my mind that perhaps I could have the foundations of a good legal case should it be necessary.
 

I delayed starting my new job for a week while the doctor signed me off for my breathing to improve. However it was less than a day or so into the week when I seemed to have shrugged off all the results of my unusual encounter and my breathing was back on track. Throughout all this, my wife Denise was her usual caring self. She worried and fussed around me for a few days until she could see I was apparently totally fine and fighting fit.
 
I was already three weeks into my new career as a sales manager at Harold’s Department Store when I had to leave early to the doctor for a check up and the results that she had promised.
“Sabrina, will you make sure to get the closing figures to Miss Monroe when you cash out tonight please?” I instructed the pretty teenage assistant who worked with me in our department. She looked up from serving a customer and smiled her sweet face at me nodding. Feeling confident in her abilities I attended to my business and next stop was the doctor’s office.


“So, Rob, your respiratory system appears to be extremely healthy and I’m glad to be giving you the all clear. In fact I can’t find a negative thing to address.”

I smiled at Doctor Richards and felt relieved. She had always been a great doctor, extremely efficient and totally honest. Not to mention, also, sort of a babe. Though she didn’t quite have the body of my wife, she was slim and pretty, and seemed to be concealing a healthy bust underneath her white lab jacket and conservative outfits. I always thought there was a little bit of a flirting thing going on between the two of us; I’m sure I was probably mistaken and that many patients have the same feelings about their doctors.
 
“No side effects at all then, doc?”
 
“That’s the good news Mr. Carter, no side effects at all, a clean bill of perfect health.”
I was happy about the conclusion. I had been feeling a little run down recently, but then maybe that’s what a move in careers can do – with the extra stress and all.

“Just one final thing before you go. I did hand in that container you passed on and my colleagues in environmental health are pursuing it with the DOH to discover how that thing ended up at the site. We haven’t managed to find out who is responsible yet or what substance was inside there, although it seems harmless enough. And don’t worry, I haven’t given anyone details of you at all, just in case this turns out to be a sensitive matter.”

“That’s fine, Doc. I’m not really that worried now. Like you said, I’m in perfect health. I just feel a little tired, with the new job and all.”
 
“Well, come on back in a few weeks,” Doctor Richards said with a warm smile, her teeth brilliant white, “if you’re not feeling any better.”

I left the doctor’s office and returned back home to our beach apartment and shared the good news with my wife. Things seemed fairly normal and routine for the next couple of weeks after that day. I would go to work at the store and Denise taught her aerobics classes at the health club and, as usual, life was pretty peachy.
 
It wasn’t until one Sunday that odd things began to occur. Denise and I were attending a ball, and I had to dig my old tux out of the closet. It had been a year since I last wore it and as I slipped it on I noted how distinctly loose the trousers seemed to fit and how the jacket sleeves didn’t have that hand-tailored look that I recalled.

“Denise, honey, what’s with this tux? I thought it fit me better than this.”

I stood before the full-length mirror fiddling with the bow tie. It was one of those real ones so I couldn’t just snap it on and I never had quite the knack of fixing them.
 
“It’s about time you learned to do these things yourself,” my wife said in a teasing, slightly condescending tone as she stood before me reaching up to sort out my tie. She fiddled with it for a few moments before stepping back to inspect her work and ask “What’s wrong with your suit, Rob? It looks fine to me. You look very sexy…just like James Bond.” She lifted up a little on her toes and kissed me reassuringly. I admired my reflection. I did look sharp even if the suit felt a little ill fitting.
 
As for Denise she looked as gorgeous as ever. Her black evening dress accentuated her curvy hips and long legs to perfection. And, as she was always ready to offer a hint of cleavage, her overly healthy bust was nicely drawing my eyes, a necklace of white pearls nearly dropping into the deep space created between her breasts. On an otherwise perfect body, it was always Denise’s chest that drew the most attention. “Full Double-D’s,” she took to calling them when asked, though I knew from my surreptitious rifling through her lingerie drawer that she was actually a 34-E.
 
Denise always looked good. She was your classic busty brunette with long, flowing hair a bit down her back and a pair of big, warm, brown eyes. Her mixed, mainly eastern European ancestry lent her a timeless beauty, a flawless, olive complexion and an elegant posture and sense of poise. My wife, though, was no mere trophy for my arm. I loved just as much the personality and brains behind the beautiful exterior. But, if I was James Bond tonight, she was perfect as a gorgeous bond girl.

“Thanks, honey. You look like a million dollars as usual,” I assured her.

“Pffft,” she dismissed off-handedly, “Come on, Mr. Bond, we have a ball to attend.”

I can’t say I noticed anything else odd that evening until perhaps much later when we walked home. Denise had snapped one of her two-inch heels, catching it in a manhole cover as we crossed the road. I suggested that we walk the rest of the way along the beach to our apartment so she could tread bare foot on the fine sand. As we walked side by side with my arm around her I had the oddest feeling she seemed taller than I recalled. I didn’t make an issue about it, in fact I always did like my wife’s long legs, and it was just that this evening I could swear they looked longer, or was it that she seemed a touch bigger all over?
 
I had been six-foot four since I was eighteen and Denise was tall as well, a good height for a woman at five-foot nine. Somehow walking alongside her tonight my normal seven inches of superiority didn’t feel as impressive and I made a mental note to take stock of her height another day as it was an odd thing to notice after being with her since our high school days when we first started seeing one another.

Reaching home, still feeling the few cocktails we’d enjoyed, it wasn’t long before we ended up in the mood for some loving. I lifted Denise up off her feet to take her to the bedroom. The funny thing was that at the top of the staircase I was definitely struggling with her weight a little more than usual.
 
“Hey, have you been pushing too many pencils at work baby?” she asked teasingly as I held her in my arms, catching my breath with my biceps flexed fully beneath her. The truth was I did feel noticeably weaker.

“Either I haven’t been working out enough,” I puffed, “or you’re putting on a few pounds.” She playfully slapped my face and laughed. Lowering her to our king sized bed I climbed on top of her and straddled her sexy body. We had already stripped each other down to our underwear when our foreplay kicked off downstairs, but I was in the mood for some more. Looking down at the dark raven hair of my wife sprawled out seductively on our satin sheets, I let her open the fly of my boxer shorts and felt her feminine hands eagerly grab my ready erection.

“I know where this big boy wants to go…” she teased, knowing full well I always got fired up when she would bring me between her voluptuous swells and masturbate me. As usual her ample proportions all but completely captured my manhood’s length and she wriggled nicely on her back letting it slide up and down until I was hotter than a volcano and just as ready to erupt.
 
I quickly plunged myself into her wetness and got into an a****l stride. I was always careful not to overwhelm Denise with my size and to gently slide it in until I filled her, yet tonight she must have been really ready for me because there was none of the usual easing of our connection. Afterwards Denise commented that she felt as if she had opened up to me like never before and that she really enjoyed the sensation of having none of the slight discomfort she was normally distracted with.

I didn’t think much of that occurrence, but maybe on reflection I should have taken this additional hint that something was changing between us.


Because the next week was full of odd things that I noted. I found to my annoyance that my car seat was a little far back and, like the tuxedo, all my shirts and trousers seemed to be more generous than usual, requiring me to tighten my belt and compensate by pulling them up just a little. I figured I was losing weight, so during one lunchtime I satisfied my curiosity by walking out of the footwear department to use the new weighing machine they had installed in the sporting goods section.
 
“Hey Rob what brings you down here?” It was Heather, a charming red head that had started around the same time as I.

“Oh just wanted to use that weighing thing they installed last week for you.”
“Not on a diet are you?” She quizzed and led me over to the device. “Put the money in there, take your shoes off and it will also measure your height and print out if you’re close to the recommended height-weight ratio. Oh, and by the way they have one by the bathrooms on level two. It’s closer for you next time.”

I looked up to see that it was like the ones they had at some sports centers, featuring a light beam upon a curved arm for laser measurements. “Thanks, Heather,” I said and set to untie the laces of my shoes, yet I noticed they seemed almost loose enough for me to slip off without easing the bows apart. Odd, I thought. Here I was head of the footwear section and with ill-fitting shoes myself. I fed a coin into the machine and hit the button. The display told me to stand still for a few seconds and my print out was ready. Before I got a chance to glimpse at the results, walking back to my department, I came across Gloria Monroe. Ms. Monroe owned the store and was therefore, I guess, my boss. I shoved the print out into my pocket
“Hi, Ms. Monroe.”

“Afternoon, Rob,” she beamed at me, which made me a little uncomfortable. I had the feeling that she was a little taken with me and I hoped that wasn’t part of the reason for me having this job. I was fairly used to women hitting on me now and again - which may sounds very conceited - but I was a tall, good looking guy. “Getting some tips from the other departments?”

“No, I just thought I would stretch my legs a little on my break.”
“Okay then,” she replied, “nice to see you.” Before we passed one another, I looked for one final time at the woman in her business suit. She was always dressed impeccably, not a hair out of place and a face full of make-up as normal - not that she really needed it. There was no doubt that Gloria Monroe was beautiful. And, not to mince words, an absolute amazon. Statuesque, in fact, would be a perfect description, and today she really did live up to the word. For, as she carried on walking past, I noticed she was taller than me by far in the pair of heels she wore. I made sure I didn’t glance back for fear she would read something into it, seeing me do a double-take - though it was true, I admit, I did find her attractive. Even though she was likely in her early forties, I’m sure she was an absolute stunner in her twenties. Exactly my type: tall and busty. Anyhow, I reminded myself, I was wrapped up in my wife. She was perfect and I was a lucky man who didn’t need to look elsewhere. I guess it was just a thing we guys do regardless, right?
 
Speaking of attractive, there was my teenage assistant Sabrina, lifting up a shoe box to the high shelving and giving me and any guy around a nice display of her slim body and pert breasts in profile as she stretched.
“It’s okay, Sabrina. I’ll put them back for you.” I walked up and she handed me the box.

“Rob, do you think we should organize these more popular lines on the lower shelves? I can barely reach up there. It’s alright for a big guy like you but not for a little girl like me.”
 
“Sure, perhaps you could do that one afternoon and I’ll tend to the customers.”

She smiled and went off into sales patter as a lady sat down to be measured. I turned and went to place the box back and found myself lifting up on my toes to accomplish the task. That was strange. I had done this time and time again without the aid of tiptoes. Looking up at the shelf I pondered for a second and then instinctively reached into my pocket, compelled to read the results from the machine with some urgency. The weight I ignored because the height was so wrong. Six feet exactly it read but it was obviously not working correctly. I shook my head and tossed the paper away.
“Rob, can you finish up with this lady for me?” Sabrina asked, appearing next to me, “I think I’ll start shifting some of the more popular product off those shelves right away. I saw even you struggled back then.”
I faked a grin and took the task in hand feeling a little weird – at the time I didn’t know why. Finishing with the customer I asked Sabrina to cover the department for a bit; I felt compelled to return to the machine to verify the results. Then I recalled Heather mentioning a second machine by the bathrooms, and decided it would be a better idea to try that one out, as the first was surely not calibrated correctly. That machine, I was sure, would give me the right reading…
 
I didn’t come back for over half an hour because I needed to walk outside for some fresh air. The second machine, to my dismay, had verified that the first machine was correct. It had concluded the exact same results.
“Four inches?” I muttered to myself wondering what the hell was going on. But the answer, however much I didn’t want to hear it, was screaming out of that black print. I had lost four inches in height. I walked back to my department and, lost in my thoughts, I didn’t hear Sabrina talking to me at first.
“…she loved the new range and bought a couple of really high pairs.”
“I’m sorry?” I said as I snapped back to the real world.

“Your wife. Denise.” Sabrina explained, pausing. “She came in twenty minutes ago.”

“She did?”
Feigning exasperation, she continued “Yes, I told you already. You missed her. She said she’d broken her good heels the other night so I fixed her up with some new ones from the Tower line.”
“Really?”
“Mmhmm. And…” Sabrina giggled, “she told me you have a thing for high heels…so she bought two pairs!”

I felt a touch embarrassed by having this pretty teen let in on one of my private secrets, and I was a little surprised at Denise for sharing this with her. It was true that I did have a “thing,” as she put it, for high heels. I felt there was nothing else that displayed a woman’s legs so well. But more so, the thought of a woman looking for more height, knowing how it drew men’s eyes, commanded their attention, was secretly exciting. But, today of all days, something felt different about discussing high heels. I glanced at the innocent range of woman’s shoes and boots from the Tower collection, all of them sporting a considerable heel - hence the “Tower” label – and began to realize what the implications of high heels would actually mean to men not as tall as my customary six-four…men like myself at this present moment. It would mean taller women…women perhaps taller than myself. I didn’t dare ask if Denise had gone for the highest ones and I changed the subject swiftly.

“So, I hope she got the staff discount.”
“Of course. Maybe she’ll be back for more…” Sabrina smiled and said nothing more on the subject until we cashed out and made our way to the parking lot.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Rob.” Sabrina began to walk off and then glanced over her shoulder, shouting back “Hey, did you have a nice day, surrounded by all these women trying on high heels?” The little minx winked, hopped onto her moped and screamed away on it.
 
I climbed into my car and instantly noted the seat needed another adjustment, which confirmed my inner fears. I was definitely shorter.
 
 
Denise came home late. She had an evening session at the health club and I was thankful as it gave me chance to come to terms with my height loss. I sorted out most of the clothes I had that seemed okay to wear, or at least passable, and turned up the legs on a few of my work trousers using double sided tape to hold the alterations in place. Of course, Denise and her seamstress skills could have tailored my clothes more professionally - after all, she used to make her own costumes and dresses - but I felt too self conscious to tell her I wasn’t as tall as before. However the real niggling inside me at present was the fear of what had led to this occurrence. I started to think about the chemical I was exposed to last month.

When my wife came home she thankfully didn’t notice anything and for the best part of that week I managed to avoid standing up and being to close to her so she couldn’t see that I was now only three inches taller. Three inches…that figure banged about in my head a lot. I wasn’t far off her size now. I was thankful and frankly relieved that with regular checks of my height using the machines it hadn’t altered and I began by the end of the week to think part of this whole dilemma was my mind playing tricks on me – I’ve always prided myself on my strong powers of denial. It wasn’t until the next Sunday evening that things eventually came out.

“Rob, that was Cindi on the phone. She has some free tickets for a meal at Roxie’s in the city. Pete’s come down with a sudden stomach bug, so you and I are in luck!”

Denise was almost skipping around the apartment. She had wanted to have a meal at Roxie’s ever since it opened, but it was not only expensive but very hard to get a reservation. I had never managed to take her there before which made this all the more special.
 
Denise spent an eternity readying herself, which never ceased to amaze me because she was a drop dead gorgeous knockout just naturally. In the meantime, I had problems with the shoes I wanted to wear that night, a slip-on designer pair that went with my black trousers. They had a lot of spare toe room and I found myself doubling my socks with thicker pairs just to keep them on. I made a mental note that I had to address this on Monday at work and check my shoe size, which had obviously altered along with my height. Thankfully, I had converted my black trousers to address my shorter legs so these were fine and my shirt, which was a white crew neck, had to be worn tucked in. I pushed the sleeves up semi-casually to avoid the excess over my hands from showing. The result was good and I looked fine. What concerned me more as I dressed was being close to Denise tonight, closer than I had been all week. I sat in our room waiting for her to appear from the bathroom where she was busy styling her hair.

“Okay, Honey, I’m ready,” she called out, “Ta da!”
I saw Denise step out from the bathroom door. She was dressed in a hot little outfit, a slinky red dress that just screamed ‘check out the bod.’ It made no attempt to hide her taut, voluptuous curves, packing her curvy hips and narrow waist tightly, like a second skin. And, though it revealed no cleavage, it did nothing to downplay her impressive chest; her breasts looked so big, so heavy. Beyond that, her makeup was flawless, her hair styled up. She looked fabulous.

“Wow…Denise.”

“You like?” she asked, beaming, twirling on her toes to give me the whole view.

“You look…wow,” I responded, grinning, marveling at my own luck. Sometimes I forgot I was I was married to an absolute sexpot. “You look hot, baby.”

“Why, thank you,” she replied, checking herself once more in the mirror. Ever since high school, she was well aware of her significant charms, and knew how to bring out the best in her appearance. “I have to say, you look pretty hunky yourself.”

I smiled at her compliment and then traveled my eyes down the back of her long legs to see that she wasn’t wearing any shoes yet.

“And…I’ve got a surprise for you,” she said, her eyes sparkling as they met mine in the mirror.
 
“Really? A surprise?”

“Your assistant fixed me up with some new heels to go with this dress.”
 
“oh…really?”
 
“Yeah…nice and high,” she said with a hint of mischief, “just the way you like ‘em.” Again, she knew my weakness for women with legs like hers in high heels. I think she also knew how I enjoyed seeing her, a tall woman herself, tower over shorter men.
 
Oh my, I thought, doing a few hurried, pointless calculations in my head. I just prayed they weren’t too high.

Denise reached down into her shoe cupboard and I admired how her dress rose up the back of her thighs.
“Pretty sexy huh?” she asked as she stood up and swiveled around to show off a pair of pumps sporting heels bigger than anything I had ever seen her wear. My breath caught as I knew that shoe straight away - it was one of the Tower collection’s highest, a 6-inch heel.

“Aren’t these just awesome? And so reasonable with your discount, baby. I knew you’d just love them.”

“Uh, yeah…great babe,” I said, feigning nonchalance.
 
“There,” she said, as she slipped them on to her feet, “they feel great, too. So comfortable for such tall heels…I guess it pays to go designer label.” She twirled a little, looking at the profile of her legs. She had the taut, muscular calves and thighs of a fitness pro, with perfectly tanned skin.
 
“Yeah, huh?” I said, all the while mentally calculating how tall Denise would be in them…but she let me know that enthusiastically herself.

”And what’s more, now I don’t have to look up at you all night, baby, because your wife is going to be standing six foot three. You won’t even have to lean down to kiss me! Tonight…” she continued with mock drama, “we breathe the same air!” She smiled and I gulped knowing the time had come. I was going out tonight with a woman taller than me.

“So come on, honey, stand up and let me give you a kiss.”

I hesitated but knew there was no way out, no excuse to be made. I had to face this. I slowly rose to my feet and there was Denise, with her eyes above my own, probably staring along the top of my dark head of hair as I stared back at her lips, now level with the middle of my nose. I raised my eyes up to meet hers, a weird sensation.

“Come on, stand up straight, Rob. I want to see how tall these really make me.”

“Um…. I am standing up.”
Denise was silent for a few cringe-inducing seconds as she took in my dimensions and reality checked the situation.

“What the…? You are standing up? But why am I…still up here? These heels aren’t that high are they?” She looked in doubt at her new footwear and then back down at me.

“Rob, I’m taller than you, hon.”

Her words gave me a slight chill of how real this was. Partly it was a relief but also the start of my coming to terms with my lost inches
“But I’m five-nine, and these are six-inch heels…that would make me six-three, right? And you’re, what? Six four…? This isn’t...this isn’t right…is this some sort of trick?”
I merely looked up at her silently, my heart racing, palms beginning to sweat.
 
Logic failing her, Denise looked down at me, her husband, now shorter than herself. Seeing as she was receiving no explanation from me, she continued. “I must be four inches taller than you in these new heels. What’s happening?”

I couldn’t take it any longer. I sat down on the bed, shaking my head. My voice caught in my throat, fighting back emotion. “Oh, god, Denise…I don’t know… hell, I can hardly believe it myself…”
 
“What?” She asked, her voice suddenly full of concern as she sat down aside me, “Rob, what is it?”

I took a deep breath, preparing myself to open up.

“…uhh…remember, last week, I said my tux didn’t fit..? Well, neither do any of my other clothes…it’s…it’s not them. It’s me…I’ve…”
“What, Rob…what are you saying? Are you saying you’ve…shrunk?”
 
I raised my eyes, looked up at her. Denise jumped to the conclusion herself.
 
I just nodded, slowly.

“Oh, Rob…There must be an explanation. Is your back ok? You didn’t hurt it, did you? Digging and lifting for that construction job, did you?”

“No, no…I haven’t got a curved spine, if that’s what your thinking. Look at me I’m standing up straight, I couldn’t be any straighter.” I stood up to demonstrate it was nothing connected to my posture. Denise rose to her feet and once more looked down at me.

“You must be, like, five-eleven, or barely six feet. You can’t just have lost five inches, baby…it’s, it’s…well, it’s impossible.”
“Five inches?” I responded, perhaps a touch defensively, “I figure more like four, but…whatever. Look at me, and look…look at you, in those heels…”
 
Looking up at her, I felt the first stirs of an erection stiffening in my pants. I tried to put it from my mind.

“Yeah, I am taller in these, Rob. It’s…amazing,” she seemed a bit lost in thought, “I can’t believe it…But, honey, what are we going to do about it?”
“I have no idea!” I didn’t, of course, want to go to see Dr. Richards. I’d be too embarrassed; maybe it was a bit immature but I didn’t want her to see me like this. “I feel crazy going to the doctor and saying ‘look at me I’ve lost four inches. Can you find them for me please?’” My tone was a little sarcastic but not aimed at Denise, more at the situation and my frustration.

“Rob, she may be able to help, it could be….” Her face went blank as she simply couldn’t fathom a potential reason.

“It’s impossible isn’t it? People just don’t get shorter…I don’t want to see the doctor. I mean its not like I’m ill or anything. I’d be wasting her time.”

”Oh, honey, are you sure?” she countered, “I mean, don’t you want to get this looked into?”
“Yeah, but, I kinda just want to forget it. What’s four inches, anyway? I mean I’m still six feet…that’s tall right?” I was trying to convince myself, “And you’re five-nine, so I’m still taller than you. It’s not so bad, it’s not like I’m short or anything…”

”That’s true, baby,” Denise’s face brightened a bit, seeing that I was coming to acceptance of my new height, “but are you sure you want me wearing these sort of heels tonight? I am noticeably taller than you like this.” Honestly, I was surprised she didn’t put up more of an argument, put more effort into getting me to the doctor.

“No, Denise, you look fabulous. They’re great shoes, you should be able to wear them. You know I love you to wear high heels, they always look so sexy on you.”

“And it makes no difference, now, that I’m taller than you in them?”

I paused, realizing I was committing to a change in our relationship, granting her my blessing to wear high heels, as if her extra inches didn’t bother me. But, I thought, it was only a few inches difference.

“I’ll just have to enjoy having a taller, leggier wife, huh?”

We kissed which was new for me as she tilted her head down to reach my mouth.
“And I can enjoy not looking up at you for a night. And no more tip toes to kiss!”

We laughed, a sign of relief between us, as we went out for the evening. Over the next week it was actually almost forgotten. Denise had adjusted some of my clothes, and I bought some new shoes from work. Life was back to normal…for a while anyway.

It was the middle of the following week at work and Sabrina was packing up some open shoeboxes at the close of another busy day.
“Sold out of the size 5 blue courts, Rob. Can we order some more?”

“Yeah, sure. Great job today, Sabrina.”

“Thanks.” She smiled.
 
As I walked past her to adjust a display I felt Sabrina tap me on the shoulder. I looked around to see her as tall as me! My jaw dropped. What..?!

“Wow, Rob, look at these! They’re like stilts! I’m nearly as tall as you!” Her pretty face was clearly impressed with the heels she had slipped on for size as she grinned.

“Yeah,” I responded, swallowing nervously, but relieved, “I, uh, wouldn’t wear the Tower stock Sabrina, especially those new eight-inch ones. Those heels are easy to catch and damage. If your not careful, those’ll set you back two weeks pay.” I was being a touch short with her as it wasn’t right to risk damaging our display stock for a bit of fun…but also for the fact that she was level with me that made me edgy and uncomfortable.

“Sorry, Rob. You’re right. I was just curious. I haven’t tried anything bigger than a three-inch heel before. And, by the way, these are the five inch ones.”
Alarm bells! Five inch heels? I cast an urgent look at the shoes as she slipped them off from her petite feet. I knew she wasn’t very tall and a slight chill began to ripple down my spine I had to casually get her to reveal her height.

“Never wore more than a three inch heel, huh? That’s surprising. You’re quite short, aren’t you? I mean, most girls your age wear those tacky platform spice girls rejects don’t they?”
“I’m little more sophisticated than most, I hope,” she giggled, “and I’m five-four, I’d say I’m pretty average for a girl. Not too short.”

There was a silence while I considered that I could have shrunk again. At the same time, Sabrina was doing a double take.

“Rob, just how tall are you? I mean you must be average for a guy, I guess. For some reason I always thought you were very tall.”
“No, just about…average.” I slipped away to avoid further conversation excusing myself with the premise of some pressing business.
 
At home that evening I was reluctant to measure myself. Even though part of me wanted to know for sure, the other part of me felt like it would be too alarming and, frankly, depressing if what I feared was true. Denise was out as usual, giving a class and I knew I eventually had to face her. When she arrived home she was carrying a brown paper bag, what looked like a take-out dinner. Still dressed in her lycra leotard and sneakers, I marveled at her form. What made me most nervous was that, even from watching her down on the sofa, she looked taller to me.
 
After a few pleasantries, she went into the kitchen to prepare the meal, leaving me to my thoughts and fears. Eventually she returned, and sat herself down beside me. We ate off trays in front of the television.
 
“You’re quiet, honey,” she stated with some concern, “everything okay?”

We had both finished our food without much conversation. I put my fork down and took a deep breath.
“Denise, I think it’s happened again. I think that I could be a little… shorter.”
 
“Oh, Honey. Are you sure?” Her face was a picture of concern initially, followed by…something else, maybe curiosity. She clutched my hand. “By how much?”

“I’m a little nervous to check. It may be nothing, but, well…When I saw Sabrina at work today, I noticed how much taller she seemed to appear, next to me.”

“But she’s such a short girl, Rob… she’s a tiny little thing.”

“Well, yeah, but…she tried on some heels and…I don’t know…”
“Here, you’d better stand up, honey.”

Again I took a deep breath, and stood up.
 
From down on the couch, Denise smiled reassuringly and then offered her hand so I could pull her up to join me. Even this task told something inside me that she was heavier than before. Denise stood up and faced me, completely eye to eye.

“Oh, god, Rob!” she exclaimed, her hand flying up to cover her mouth, “You’re only as tall as me now! That means you must have lost, what? Another three inches? Oh, honey, what’s happening to you?”

She instinctively hugged me, but this was no hug that I was used to. Before, in such an embrace, I would hold her head down by my chest and feel her slim body against me. But now, with her as my equal in stature, we brushed cheeks and I felt her full bust press into my own chest. I also found placing my arms around her not as easy as before. We discussed, again, calling the doctor, but I simply wasn’t in the mood to hear it. I guess I didn’t want a label for what was going on with me for fear it was irreversible in some way.

“Okay, honey,” Denise agreed, “it is your choice. But this is the second time, and who knows if it will happen again? You could end up shorter than me next time. Have you thought about that?”

I looked at Denise, now such a different woman. So much taller than before. I had to admit, putting my fear and dismay aside, she seemed to be more attractive to me like this. Apart from Miss Monroe at work, I didn’t often encounter any women who equaled my height, and here was Denise, doing just that. It felt oddly exciting somehow.
I couldn’t, of course, let her know that.
 
“It’s okay, honey,” I assured her, bringing her back out to arm’s length to look her in the eye, “I’m sure it won’t happen again.”


The next morning, I noticed my clothes situation had really taken a dramatic turn for the worse. Fresh from my morning shower, I tried on my various trousers, even some I had recently rolled up, and none of them wanted to be part of my life anymore. The waists all seemed enormous and the room in each leg was extremely baggy. Was this all because of my recent episode? Concerned, I looked through my tops. I needed a shirt to wear but my old s*******n-inch collars made my neck look like it was rattling around in the large gap. The sleeves all fell over my arms and even rolling them back didn’t stop gravity taking the material down over my thinner seeming arms.
 
I sat on the bed naked and feeling very nervous. Far too nervous to check my height out formally with the measuring tape that was still in the bedroom from last night, when we measured me, confirming my new height of five-nine.
 
Should I back down and see the Doctor? No, it was far too embarrassing to reveal that I was getting shorter. And, who was to say that it was permanent? I could shoot back up at any time, couldn’t I?
 
“Rob? Honey? You’re going to be late!”

Denise’s voice snapped me out of my self-pity and I moved closer to the tape measure where it lay there on the dressing table, innocently holding all the answers. Still sat on the edge of the bed I held it in my hands pulling some length out not committing to use it.

“There you are, hon.” I turned, surprised to see Denise had come up to join me, inquisitive to what the delay was. “What’s keeping you?”
She spotted the tape in my hands
“Oh no,” she said, her eyes widening, “Not again, I hope?”

“I’m not sure, Denise, but…my clothes…”
Denise sat down beside me. She was dressed in grey cotton shorts and a very small, very tight, bright yellow crop top that just announced her large breasts. Did they seem that little bit larger today? I shrugged off that thought even though it was a pleasant one. Denise’s hair was up in a ponytail and she was obviously ready to go the health club, looking as athletically toned as normal in her outfit.

“Well, you did just get smaller only yesterday, it could be from that,” she explained, trying to comfort me, “How do you feel? I mean, do you feel sick in any way? Any symptoms?” Her hand rose to my forehead, checking my temperature. I thought to myself that it seemed larger than normal, less petite. I shrugged these questions away with my other observations and answered her concerns.
 
“No, I feel okay,” I replied, “maybe just a little worn out, tired…”

“Will you reconsider the doctor, then?”

“It’s not like I’m sick, Denise,” I shot back, perhaps a bit snippy, “I’m just not six-four anymore. That isn’t an illness, is it?”
 
“I guess you know what’s best,” she said, acquiescently, trying to soothe me, “but I can’t help feeling worried about you.”

“Thanks babe, but really, I’m fine,” I responded, happy she didn’t press the issue, “I promise that if it gets worse…I mean, really worse, and people begin to notice…then I’ll go and see the Doctor.” She looked at me in concern. “As for now, it’s only really you that knows, and if I get myself some reasonably heeled shoes, I’m still going to be five-ten or thereabouts…and that’s not short, is it?”
 
“No, of course not, honey,” she said, placating me. She paused a bit, considering her words, “But it doesn’t help with me being a tall girl does it? I mean, if you had married a more average, shorter girl, like five-five or something…”
 
“No, that’s not it. I love your height, it’s part of what attracted me to you in the first place.,” I said, trying to sound confident, “That hasn’t changed. If anything, you just look taller now, and I don’t mind that at all.” I clasped Denise’s equal sized hand and smiled at her.

She paused again, thinking before speaking. “Can I confess something, honey?” she asked.

“Sure, of course,” I replied, curious as to what she had to say.

“I…I haven’t missed you being a lot taller than me. It’s kind of…nicer, now. When we…make love I don’t feel so dominated by you like I used to. It makes me feel more confident, sexier somehow.”

Wow. That was revealing. She seemed to like the new me. “Hm. I guess I haven’t really thought about you in all this, I mean how it may affect you. So, having a husband who doesn’t tower over you isn’t a big turn off then?”

“On the contrary, babe, you’re still as dashingly handsome,” she joked, “only more my size now.” She paused, her smile fading a bit, and asked, “and…what about you?”

“Me?”

“You commented the other night how nice my legs looked, being that bit…longer.”

I grinned, recalling. She remembered that, did she? “You’re right. There are a few benefits…You are definitely a lot leggier,” I said, “and perhaps a little more busty, too…”

Denise looked down at her chest and rolled her eyes in false modesty. “Yeah, like I need that!”
 
I just smirked. I knew she was proud of her figure.
 
“I suppose that, to you, it must seem like I’ve been slowly growing and that I’m…what? About six three or four to you now?”

“Like I said…a lot leggier.”

We both felt a little better having been more honest with each other about this unusual situation that was forming between us.

Denise kissed me and lay back on the bed releasing her long dark hair so that it exploded in a contrasting and vivid display across our satin duvet. Her eyes gave me the signal that she wanted me. I simply couldn’t refuse those eyes.

I climbed onto the bed and peeled down her shorts. She was wearing a sexy pair of pink panties and kissing her taught athletic stomach I made my way down to them until I could pull them gently between my teeth. Denise aided me and rolled them down her silky thighs. I mounted her with enthusiasm but Denise still wanted some foreplay.

“Up here first, baby…let’s not rush things…” She pulled her small top up and exposed those jutting breasts, held taut in a white bra. Sliding myself along her body I took my weight as she guided my manhood into the embrace of her bosom and I began to make love to her breasts as they wrapped lovingly around it. What surprised me more than pleasantly was how they seemed to totally consume the entire length of my staff.

“You’re right, honey,” she said breathlessly, “you do make me feel a lot bustier.” She emphasized her words by squashing her large breasts together. They blossomed upwards, voluptuously, around me. My eyes goggled. Man, sometimes I forgot: her breasts are big. “Does that feel good, baby? Losing yourself in between these?”

“Yes,” I responded, moaning, “that feels good…so good…”

Before I hit critical mass Denise released her breasts and pushed me down onto her. I drove myself into her inviting sex, slipping inside her easier than before, much easier. It was almost like making love to another woman, a woman who was able to receive me effortlessly. Denise felt the connection more than ever before; she now had me entirety, and this gave her immense satisfaction. We eventually rolled over, both panting gently.

“Rob that….”
“Don’t say it. It was good, huh? You felt it too?”
 
“I felt…bigger down there. That was all of you inside me, wasn’t it?”
“Yep. Everything,” I sighed and reached over to our bedside table to grab some tissues to wipe myself, offering some to my wife.

“Thanks,” she smiled, evidently happy with the outcome of our spontaneous love session.

“So, even if I have a wardrobe problem,” I joked, “at least the sex is great.”
“Aww, baby, let me help,” she said, sitting up to rise off the bed, “Let me measure you again, get your inseam and everything, and I’ll work on fixing your clothes, okay?”

I looked at her sweet face as she fixed her clothes back to normal.
“Sure…here.” I passed her the measuring tape and slowly stood up with my back to her, not wanting to see the verdict of my height, preferring her to announce it.

“Oh, my, um…you might want to turn around, honey.” Her words sounded concerned.
 
I turned around in an instant to see what had prompted that tone of voice. Part of me wished I hadn’t.

Denise was taller than me by at least two inches, maybe more. I looked forward at her nose level and then slightly up into her warm, gorgeous eyes, full of sympathy.

“Oh, no,” was all I could muster as a reaction.

“Oh Rob, it’s happened again,” she said, “and now, look…I am actually taller than you.”

“You could take off the sneakers,” I muttered, trying to take in this new sensation. I knew her pink Nikes would have almost no real heel.

“Rob, you know that’s not it. I’m as tall to you now as I was in those new heels the other night.”

“Oh, man,” I said, dejected, stating the obvious, “I’m really shorter than my own wife.”

“It’s…it’s okay, baby,” she said, again trying to mollify me, “I’m only a little bit taller, a couple of inches at best. In fact, we’re nearly the same height.” Her words did little to make me feel better about the situation.
 
“But, you are still…taller than me.”
 
“That’s okay, honey. I’m taller than a lot of guys.”
 
“But…never taller than me!”  I shot back, raising my voice a bit. I instantly regretted that…this wasn’t her fault. “Now you’re…you’re…”
“Yes, yes,” she said, comfortingly. She could tell I was upset, “I guess I am. Oh, honey. Oh, poor baby…” Denise instinctively hugged me to her and I felt her body, a new, larger body press gently into my own. Her breasts flattened slightly against my upper chest, where they had never been close to reaching before. I looked down to the side and Denise’s legs stood higher than my own, lifting her waist higher than mine.
 
It was awkward, with me trying to adjust to the new facts as Denise attempted to find something that I could wear to work. I lay back on the bed naked and shut my eyes as if this would fool me to thinking everything was back to normal in the darkness.

“So, you’re five foot six and a bit,” Denise said as I heard her sift through my shirts in our closet.

“That makes me officially short,” I said in a dejected manner.

“Not at all babe, just…just, well, shorter than average.”
 
“And shorter than you.”
 
“Well, yes, shorter than me. But, remember, I’m tall for a woman and, like I said, I know lots of men that are shorter than me.” She looked down at me. “Sorry. I’m not making this any better, am I?”
 
“It’s okay, Denise. I’m gonna have to get used to being the new me, and being around the new you.”
“Well, in private, behind these walls, we can still pretend its me who’s grown a lot taller and that you’re still six four. Will that help? Just think of me as being…six foot seven.”
 
“Six foot seven? You’d be a great basketball player.”

She laughed at the thought and so did I. The humor seemed to diffuse my current self-pity.

”Well, since you have to get to work, I don’t have time to sew anything up…but here’s something that might work,” she said. I opened my eyes. “You’re not going to like this,” she continued, laying out some clothes next to me on the bed, “but these should fit you.”

First I picked up a plain white shirt. “Wait a minute…this is one of your blouses!”

“It’s not a blouse” she stated plainly, “It’s a shirt. Blouses are softer and more feminine. It’s a plain white shirt. It’s…unisex. Here, feel the material…”

Her assurance wasn’t convincing, but what choice did I have? I tried it on and surprised myself in the fact that it did fit. If anything it was a little on the large size.

“Looks like I’m about your shirt size,” I commented as I stood up, seeing the sleeves looked fine and the length was more than adequate, the collar size was also a nice fit yet the body of the shirt seemed far more spacious than I was used to, and not so fitted.

“Hmmm…Not quite,” Denise commented, and came over to me. She pulled the material down to flatten the front a little.

“Yeah, looks like it’s loose…around…here.”

I looked down at her chest, which filled her shirt nicely.

“Well, it’s not baggy on me,” she was trying hard not to grin, “I guess I’m just a little bigger in the chest, huh?”

Her observation did little to make me feel better about wearing her shirt. Reaching down to the bed I noticed the next garment in line and my hand froze half way to retrieving it.
“You are k**ding right?”
Denise broke a smile and a sexy one at that as she held up a pair of silk, boxer style knickers before me.

“Your boxers are all way too big, honey,” she said with some amusement, “and these are practical. I think they should do just fine. And besides, you’ll look sexy in these…and I’m willing to bet that you’ll love the feel of them.”

I’d never worn a pair of women’s underwear before even as a joke and had to admit it wasn’t like I had an alternative.

“Well, alright…but I’m not going to make a habit of this. It’s a bit kinky if you ask me.”

I took the soft silky knickers and put them on to her seeming delight. A wolf whistle escaped my wife’s lips and it pained me to admit the material was good against my skin.

“I suppose you’re going to make me try on one of your skirts next?” I said dryly.
“No, I don’t think you’ve got the legs for my skirts,” she joked back, “but…here…try my trousers. They should look okay. They have a normal cut and they’re plain black.”
“But…look at the label,” I added, perhaps catching myself in a whine, spotting the brand logo of a popular woman’s clothes shop.

“It’s your choice, babe,” she said, a touch exasperated, “I’m not forcing you to wear my clothes, but if you have to go to work then this is all I can offer that has a chance of fitting you. I promise that when I finish work, I’ll go shopping and see if I can get you some smaller men sizes, okay?”

I grimaced but had to get on with making the best out of a bad situation. Looking at myself in the mirror a short time later I decided that the clothes my wife had shared with me would do for the day. I couldn’t help think that Denise found this amusing seeing me in her things and knowing we could share the same wardrobe if required.
“You look fine…honestly,” she reassured me, patiently.

“I feel conscious that these are your clothes I’m wearing.”

“Don’t be silly, they look perfectly passable.”

“Mmmm…alright…” I moaned, discontent with the situation. I fussed before the mirror looking this way and that at my reflection.
 
A few minutes later I was debating if I should wear a coat as I stood by the front door but it was summer and my coats would all hang on me. As I looked out of the front door window I found myself summoning courage to leave the house when I heard Denise walk up behind me. She leaned in and whispered into my ear, which was something I wasn’t used to her being able to do so casually.
 
“How about a kiss goodbye for your tall wife?”

I noted that the word “tall” had crept playfully into her question but chose to ignore it as I turned to kiss her only to find my lips level with her neck line! She was taller again by several inches and my mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Oh my god! No!”

“What’s wrong?” she purred, as she easily rested her arms around my shoulders, “I thought you liked statuesque women.”
 
“I’m…I’m…s-smaller again!” I exclaimed, looking up at how much my wife had shot up in the world, making my chin not far from the level of her bountiful breasts and bringing those breasts much higher and much closer to my face.
 
“You do look very little,” she teased. I was a little taken back by her tone. I couldn’t believe she was being so casual as I looked up at her eyes from below, which sparkled merrily.
 
Denise obviously couldn’t hold herself together and burst out laughing. I failed to see the joke until she guiltily grinned and explained. “I’m sorry, honey, but I just couldn’t resist. I slipped on a pair of heels…”

My eyes darted below to see a pair of formal heels on her feet. Though I was, I guess, relieved, it just emphasized just how easily my wife could elevate herself well beyond my statistics just by wearing a pair of shoes. I also felt a little uneasy that she did it so flippantly.
 
“Very funny,” I retorted.

“Sorry, honey, I know I shouldn’t tease you,” she said, her tone conciliatory, “but you did say you like me being taller.”
 
“Yeah,” I marveled, “You are tall in those…” My voice, I think, belied a bit of arousal.
“I do have higher pairs,” she offered, “but maybe I should keep those in the closet, huh? What do you think honey?”

“Uh, I…I don’t know,” I stuttered. What was she suggesting, actually, “Y-you look good enough already from down here…”

“You know,” she said mischievously, “I think my husband has a thing for taller women and he’s afraid to admit it…” She kissed me on the forehead as it was closer than my lips and smiled. “Looks like I’ll have to lean down a little to kiss him properly.”

“Or you could just take the heels off,” I suggested.

“I guess I could,” she agreed, “but you know, now that you’re sharing my clothes, perhaps I could let you try on a pair of my high heels just to even us up a little.”
 
“Ha Ha.”

She sniggered and proceeded to lean down and meet my lips, which I couldn’t help thinking she enjoyed.

I soon found myself at work. I was late but it wasn’t a big deal.
 
“Hey, Sabrina.”

“Morning, Rob.”

Did Sabrina just give me a double take? I thought and quickly crouched down to put some stock back in its correct boxes.

“Hey, Rob. Can I leave early today? I’ve got a date and I…”
 
“Sure,” I responded quickly, glad to see her leave earlier than normal as I was a little conscious of working next to a girl who was only a couple of inches shorter than me. It wouldn’t be long before she noticed this herself, but I was going to prolong explanations wherever I could.
 
Avoiding standing close to Sabrina, I muddled through the morning shift, noticing every woman I attended to on a fitting seemed to be tall - some very tall. It was a new world. With my reduced stature, women had changed fundamentally: there were few short women and I felt, more or less, on equal standing with most of them now.
 
One achievement of the day was to stealthily change my own shoes for some new ones, which I decided to borrow from the scuffed and faulty stock. These new shoes confirmed I had lost three shoes sizes.

Midday came and I couldn’t avoid walking behind Sabrina to get some polish for a customer. She was standing and wearing her normal black shoes. Her two-inch heels made her as tall as me. If she turns around, I thought, she’ll see something’s up in an instant. Luckily she didn’t.

When Sabrina had left I relaxed a little and pushed myself into sales patter mode charming the ladies as best I could to buy expensive shoes. My wife’s clothes fitted me well, if not a little long on the pant legs. But, I had to remind myself, she did have longer legs than me now. It was the waist that fascinated me. I knew Denise’s vital statistics by heart: 40, 24, 34. She was curvy, certainly, big in all the right places but how my waist managed to squeeze in her 24 inch trousers surprised me. It was a long way from my previous 36 inches but then all of me looked a lot more compact. I was in such deep thoughts as these, crouched down replacing stock, when Gloria came along.

“Afternoon, Rob. Business going well?”
“Fine,” I responded, looking up towards her, “some good…sales…today.” Holy Christ. From where I knelt, looking up at Gloria, she looked absolutely enormous.
 
“Everything okay, Rob?” she asked, noting my discomfiture.
 
“Yeah, fine,” I replied, lowering my head back to my stock, “just kind of tired.”
 
“Well, hey…I’m going to grab a pair of pumps for myself, I see a box in my size up here on the top shelf, above your head,” she said, as she began to extend her arm over me, “Mind if I reach over you?”
 
“Uh, no,” I answered, “go right ahead.” I shifted to my right a bit, to get out of her way, and bumped into a short stool that was next to me. As she rearranged the boxes on the top shelf, stretching a bit, to get to the box she needed, I stood up next to her, and slightly behind her.
 
Immediately, my breath caught. Looking at Gloria from behind, I was struck by just how enormous she appeared. From my new height, she absolutely towered over me; I don’t think I even came up to this woman’s armpit. As I goggled at her size, at just how substantial she seemed, I must have let out a little croak.
 
“What was that, Rob?” she asked, turning her head a bit towards me, “Did you say something?”
 
Quickly, in a panic, I crouched down, grabbing the stool besides me to take a seat. I didn’t want her seeing me standing, giving her a chance to compare our heights. “Oh, uh, no, Miss Monroe,” I stammered, trying to look busy again, “nothing.”
 
“Well, okay,” she said, turning full round now to face me, a shoebox in hand, to find me sitting, “I found what I need. Just get me a receipt later.” She looked at me sort of quizzically.
 
“Will do.”
 
“Oh, and by the way,” she asked, looking down to where I sat. God, she looked tall. “How is the ‘Tower’ collection doing?”
 
“The Towers…The Towers….oh yeah, the really tall shoes?” I replied, feigning as if I had to review my memory banks, “they, uh, seem to be moving really well. I’m surprised, but I guess women like their heels high these days.”
 
“Yeah, well, push them as much as you can,” she instructed me, fixing a loose strand of hair, “I really want to see a lot of sales out of them.”
 
“Sure,” I replied, starting to feel like I was being made extra small by the woman looming above me, “I’ll do my best.”
 
“Thanks, Rob,” she said, “I’ll see you later.”
 
“Goodbye, Miss Monroe.”

The rest of that day I could hardly shake the image of confronting a woman that way and feeling so short. Was this something I would have to get used to? If I continued to shrink, would all women start to look this way to me? It would be a different world; would I start to feel…inferior? Could I handle that? I tried to ignore my own questions, tried to be satisfied with the fact that Gloria was a woman of unique stature, much taller than average.

That night, I found that Denise had bought me some new clothes, which resulted in making me feel much better about life. The weekend came and I didn’t shrink any further, so life settled once more and I actually began to try to appreciate parts of my new size. Like, when I got into our car I didn’t have to alter the seat like I did back when I had longer legs than Denise. In fact, if anything, I needed the seat a little closer than her now. Other new-found pluses included the bathtub, which was more accommodating to a guy in the mid five-foot region than a six-foot plus guy. I tried to stay confident in the belief that this was all temporary and soon I would reclaim my previous stature, so for the short term I could enjoy these new sensations and situations in which I found myself.
 
This included the feelings I got when I was around Denise. She seemed different, yet so much the same; it was hard to explain. She was her normal self yet she looked all the more attractive being taller, and I found myself checking her long legs out more than ever, reveling in the fact that they were so long. And, always being a breast-man, I was of course happy to find myself with an even bustier wife than normal. I felt almost like a teenager again in some ways, trying to sneak sidelong glances of her chest when she wasn’t looking. What made me a bit uneasy, however - though it may have been my imagination – was that she seemed to like getting close to me at any opportunity, as if to constantly keep comparing our heights.

When Sunday came, we had plans to go out shopping for the afternoon but I had nothing going on that morning. When I woke up, a bit later than usual, Denise was already at the health club giving a class, which offered me no choice but to rest in bed and flick the television on and take it real easy. I enjoyed lazy Sundays and soon found myself dozing off to sleep.

“Wake up, mister,” her voice announced, rousing me from my slumber, “you better shift yourself into high gear because we’ve got shopping to do!”

Denise switched off the television, which had moved on while I slept to some k**s’ program. I stretched with a mighty yawn before jumping out of bed. Denise was sat on the other side of the room, removing her sneakers and going over the list of all the new outfits she needed. As I walked past her towards the shower in our bathroom she beckoned me back.

“Hon, my bra catch is caught. Can you undo it for me please?”

I smiled and watched her stand naked with her exposed back to me, wearing just a white bra with her leotard in a pool at her feet. Standing behind her, my size was apparently different as I was totally unable to peer over her head like I did before. I swept her long brown hair aside to see the offending catch and quipped, “You obviously need an expert in bra catches, and bra catches are my specialty.”

As my hand made for the catch I was suddenly overcome by a sensation like none I had felt before, a warm pulse that flowed through my limbs and tingled every hair on my body. It felt pleasant in a way, and sparked off a heady rush like a powerful d**g. My eyes closed for a few seconds as I rode the wake of this energy flowing within me. As it subsided I opened them once more to look at my wife, or I should say to look up to my wife! Denise was huge! Towering, so tall now that I was looking across somewhere to the lower part of her shoulder blades, and my hands were reaching upwards to the catch, as it was almost level with the top of my forehead. I stopped what I was doing, stunned, and realized I had shrunk again - only this time while I was conscious of it.

“Some expert!” Denise commented, noting my delay, “What are you doing back there?” She sounded a touch impatient and I didn’t know if I wanted to be there when she turned around.

“Uh, Denise,”