Giantess Stories: FAIR EXCHANGE                                                            by Vicente  AUTHOR

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                                                     FAIR EXCHANGE

                                                           by Vicente

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Many stories in this genre feature fairly trite and predictable

plot devices, such as "Gypsy curses", to evade the central reality that people

do not typically shrink longitudinally.  The fact that this modest effort is no

exception to the rule should not be construed either as a lack of respect for

the Romany and Sinti peoples or as a casual attitude toward their history and

culture, which predate the 12th century reign of Richard ll and, thus, the

foundation of modern Anglo-American concepts of law and society.  The fact that,

again like many stories in this genre, this one ends in the words "to be

continued" is likewise not to be construed as a suggestion that it has come to a

final conclusion (in midplot, if not in midparagraph).  Of course the standard

disclaimers hold:  adult content, adult themes, adult sexual explicitness, in

short (as it were) ADULTS ONLY (no minors need apply).  That said, enjoy.

PROLOGUE: FIRST ANNIVERSARY

    June 21st.  Their first anniversary.  Giancarlo's Italian restaurant, scene

of their very first date 22 months earlier.

    Chris Blalock gazed long and longingly at Shawn, his wife of one year.  Tall

and leggy at 5'8"; lean and taut at 120 lbs. (or would be, as soon as she

regained her pre-pregnancy figure); long, soft, gently flowing chestnut-brown

hair; a face to die for and a personality to live and grow old with.  She had

just turned 19 last week; he, 27 last month.  She was still, as far as he was

concerned, his new bride.  And the love of his life--along with Caitlin, their

new daughter, 20 days old and staying with Shawn's mother for the new parents'

first evening away from the house since they'd left the hospital.

    Who says you can't have it all? Chris thought, less smugly than gratefully. 

A gorgeous wife, a beautiful baby girl, an incisive mind that had led him to

co-found a software company that had propelled him and his partner--Chris Hallam,

or "Chris ll"--through a highly successful IPO to a present net worth in excess

of $30 million each.  If you can't have it all, he mused, I must be living in

the Matrix.  It seemed real enough to him.

    What seemed almost unreal to him at this moment was the view afforded him by

Shawn's low-cut dress.  She was nursing Caitlin, and her newly engorged breasts

were almost average in size--she actually wore a B-cup bra these days, where

before her pregnancy she only half-filled an A-cup.  It was the one physical

characteristic of Shawn he'd have changed if he could.  No, he thought, put that

out of your mind RIGHT NOW.  She's absolutely perfect the way she is--and she

always will be.  As if in punctuation of that point, Chris felt his own newly

engorged member swell against the crotch of his pants.

    Shawn Blalock gazed long and longingly at Chris, her husband of one year. 

Handsome, black-haired, green-eyed, tall and lean and built like a middleweight

contender--6'1", 160 lbs.  Actually she considered him almost an identical twin

of the late actor Brandon Lee (or maybe it was just that the couple had watched

"The Crow" on video that night of their first date--after dining right here at

Giancarlo's--and had watched it maybe a dozen times since).  She was 17 then,

about to start her senior year of high school, had just spent the summer

clerking for C & C Software Development, and was already by that time head over

heels over heartstrings in love with her boss.  She told herself that looks

weren't important, that the body was just a shell, but she couldn't help it--she

loved, absolutely LOVED, the feeling of being in his arms and of looking up to

meet his gaze even when she was wearing 3" heels (as she was tonight).

    A year had gone by since they were married.  And tonight she could feel from

his gaze--aimed unabashedly at her chest--that he was trying just as hard to

persuade himself that looks weren't important, and that his efforts were meeting

with just as little success, since what he was seeing was stretching his jockey

briefs to the limit.  She stifled a grin--and then thought, somewhat wistfully,

that this part of the evening at least was but a temporary thing.  She wouldn't

be nursing Caitlin forever, and once that was a done deal her breasts would

revert to their previous sub-A-cup nothingness.  Shit.  She'd considered

implants, but Chris had talked her out of it.  Better a natural A-cup than a

make-believe DD, he'd said--and he'd meant it.  She knew he had a thing about

big breasts--but they had to be big natural breasts, or forget it.  He'd

convinced her.

    She sighed.  Just be thankful you're with him and he's all yours, she told

herself--and she meant it.

    That night they watched "The Crow" and then made love.  And they meant every

damn bit of it.

CHAPTER ONE: SECOND ANNIVERSARY

    June 21st again.  Giancarlo's Italian Restaurant again (now an annual

tradition).  The end of a typically excellent meal. 

    Chris and Shawn still gazed at each other, still long and longingly--but

Shawn sensed that Chris' gaze was just the merest scintilla less intense than it

had been a year ago.  And she knew why.

    Chris looked exactly as he had last year.  As for her, she had her figure

back--a tall and leggy 5'8", a lean and taut 120 lbs.  And--regrettably--a

micromastic sub-A-cup once again.

    "Something wrong, babe?" 

    Chris had noticed her half-frowning reverie.  She decided honesty was the

best policy.

    "Nothing, really, except that--well, I was just thinking how I filled this

dress out last year."

    "Filled it out?  Shawn, you had just had a baby!  You've dropped nearly 20

lbs. since Caitlin was born.  You weigh the same as you did in high school. 

Most women would be happy at that thought."

    "I should be.  I am.  Yeah, I am, I just..."  She stopped, hesitated,

started to say something, stopped again, chose her words carefully.  "It's just

that I wish I could be exactly what you want, Chris.  The way you're exactly

what I want."

    Chris started to say something, stopped, hesitated over the lump he felt in

his throat and the unexpected wave of--something (love, that must be it)--he'd

just felt for his gorgeous, loving wife.  "Shawn, there is nothing--absolutely

nothing--I'd change about you if I could.  The way you fill a dress, a suit, a

tank top & shorts, a bikini--it's all perfect.  You're perfect.  And I'm

perfectly lucky you chose to spend your life with me.  And, in particular, that

you're choosing to spend tonight with me." 

    He smiled.  She smiled back, tipped her wineglass and emptied it, wiped her

mouth, pushed her chair back.

    "Let's get out of here.  I feel like a walk tonight.  It's the coolest June

I can remember."

    Chris nodded.  "Perfect end to a perfect meal.  But not to the evening.  I

still have big plans on that score."  Again he smiled.  Again she smiled back.

    The restaurant was on the edge of a quiet upper middle class residential

neighborhood, one of the older developments in that part of the city.  Chris and

Shawn each thought what a good idea this had been: it was indeed unseasonably

cool for the first day of summer (and longest day of the year), but it was now

almost 9:30 and even such heat as there had been earlier had faded with

twilight.  Now it was quiet, peaceful, and comforting to be strolling past the

houses so similar to the ones in which each of them had grown up--and so

dissimilar to the six-bedroom, almost one million dollar "mansion" (in Shawn's

mind) that was their house now.

    Chris was thinking of their dinner conversation.  He hadn't lied to her, not

really.  He loved her more than words could say, and thought her more beautiful

than words could mean.  He knew, though, that she had been referring to his big

breast fetish.  That was OK.  Both of them understood that, as fetishes go, it

was a fairly normal and innocuous one.  It was one of only two fetishes Chris

had.  He was glad she would never, ever know about the other one:  the one that

caused him to want not only to be smaller than Shawn, to be tiny in fact, but

for it to be a process that happened very gradually over time, so that he could

see her gradually becoming more and more dominant over him, both physically and

psychologically, but (of course) for it to be a process that did nothing to

quell her sexual ardor for him, or his for her. 

    Never.  Ever.  And just as well.

    They had reached the end of the block and what looked like the end of the

development, each lost in his or her own thoughts.  On their left was an empty

lot--no, not empty, "unimproved".  The term "empty" didn't seem to square with

the massive oak that occupied its center, and whose gnarled limbs actually

spread over the street in a pattern that struck both of them as inarticulably

strange, and not a little spooky.  Adjacent to the lot--at the point of the

cul-de-sac where the street ended--was the last home in the neighborhood, a

moderate size two-storey frame house.  It looked old and quaint, with a gambrel

roof that seemed out of place not only in this neighborhood (or almost anywhere

outside New England) but somehow on the house itself, as if it were the product

of an architect who had forgotten the rules--or who just chose not to live and

work by them.

    Or, perhaps, who had read too much Lovecraft.

    The couple exchanged glances, suddenly realizing that they had been gazing

silently at the house for several minutes, almost in a trance.  They both

chuckled, a bit nervously.

    "Spooky, huh?" Shawn smiled.

    "What, the tree or the house?" Chris smiled back.

    "You're right--it's both."  Chris and Shawn instantly jerked their heads

back toward the house, shocked to see a dark-haired woman standing on the

porch--a porch which both of them were certain had been, just five seconds

before, unoccupied.

    She was tall, taller than Shawn, slightly fleshier, attractive--and, Chris

noted instantly, vastly more bosomy.  Shawn, vaguely uneasy, noted this as well.

    The woman had spoken with an accent unfamiliar either to Chris or to Shawn. 

She spoke again.  "I'm sorry if I startled you.  Every house in this half of the

block is empty, except mine, and I don't get much company."

    Chris, a little more at ease now, replied.  "Not a problem.  It's we who

should apologize for disturbing you.  You say all these houses are unoccupied?" 

The couple now noticed a few realtor signs in some of the yards.

    "Everyone seems to be leaving.  The exodus started just a few months ago,

and now the whole block seems to be emptying out."

    "Why?" Shawn asked.

    "I'm afraid I haven't a clue.  Unless"--a hint of a smile touching her

lips--"unless it's that people have started to realize I'm Romany."

    "Romany?" asked Chris.

    "Gypsy."

    The vague unease Shawn had experienced a minute ago now became sharper, more

defined.  It evolved almost instantly to a form closely akin to that of fear. 

She could not have said why, but she could have said clearly that she wanted

nothing more than to take Chris by the arm, turn him gently 180 degrees, and

proceed with him at a brisk pace back up the street whence they'd come.  The

only problem with that plan was that it involved turning her back on the house

and the woman.

    Chris, in contrast, seemed utterly--if not udderly--entranced.  "Really? 

That's fascinating.  Are you like, practicing or whatever?"  Shawn's disquiet

began to give way to disgust at her bedazzled, tongue-tied mate.  Why didn't he

feel the revulsion she did?

    The woman laughed.  "As in sorceress?  Shape-shifter?  Hardly."  She turned

toward the front door.  "But you're both welcome to visit my so-called lair. 

I've just brewed some hot spiced tea.  My name's Anya, by the way."

    Chris couldn't help noticing her breasts as she turned--nor could Shawn help

noticing him noticing.  She was wearing a long-skirted eastern European peasant

style outfit which obviously did not include a bra.  The assertive swell of her

breasts was all natural, without enhancement.  Chris recalled how he had said to

Shawn, better a natural A than an artificial DD.  Anya was clearly beyond a

natural DD, and probably beyond a natural F as well.

    Both Chris and Shawn silently pondered, just for the briefest moment, the

wisdom of walking into the home of this woman they had never even seen five

minutes ago.  Then they were climbing the porch steps and heading toward the

front door.  As Anya passed through the door she turned to face them and said,

with a half-smile, "Oops--almost forgot the most important part. Welcome to my

home; enter freely and of your own will, and all that jazz."

    Chris and Shawn smiled, a little nervously, and walked into the house.

    The interior was neat, tidy, decorated with Old World charm.  Anya invited

them to have a seat on the living room sofa and poured tea from a silver service

that was already in place, as if guests had been expected.

    Chris remarked, "I'm sorry to hear everyone's leaving, Anya.  I take it you

live here alone?"

    "Oh yes.  Alone is just the way I like it."  She smiled widely at him. Shawn

wondered if her incisors were just slightly more prominent and pointed than

average.  Even so, they were nowhere near as off-the-chart as her breasts, she

thought dejectedly.

    Anya continued.  "So then.  I volunteered that I'm a Gypsy, and I suppose I

should follow up on that.  I do tarot readings, minor love spells, the odd

seance on occasion for those stupid enough to believe that the dead have

anything convivial to say to the living.  Is any of that your pleasure?"

    Shawn smiled.  "We'd hate to put you out.  I'm sure it's long past your

usual business hours."

    "No, no, you don't understand.  I don't do any of that stuff for a living. 

It's strictly a hobby for me.  I don't actually work--don't have to, I'm rich."

    Chris was interested.  "Really?"

    "Of course, Mr. Blalock.  And I have you to thank for it."

    Both Chris and Shawn almost spilled their tea.  "Uh, excuse me, Anya, but

how do you know who I am?"

    "You look exactly like your picture in Forbes from this past spring.  I

invested practically everything to my name in your company's IPO last year.  It

paid off very, very well."

    Chris, flattered, relaxed a bit; Shawn did not.

    "So", Anya continued, "the occult flimflammery is just something I do to

entertain friends and guests.  Need any wishes granted?"  She smiled still, her

left eyebrow arching slightly.

    Four years later it would all come back to her, suddenly, shockingly, in a

gush. Looking back on that moment four years later, as she sat at their table at

Giancarlo's and tearfully said goodbye to her dwindling little husband, Shawn

could not remember just what it was that caused her to blurt out those fateful,

fatal six words.  Maybe the "spice" in the tea was something more than that. 

Maybe she was trying to dispel her growing uneasiness with a show of blustery

bravado.  Maybe she was envious of Anya's huge endowments.  Maybe this, maybe

that, maybe something else entirely.  At any rate, while Anya clearly had

directed the question to Chris, it was Shawn who answered it.

    "I wish my boobs were bigger."

    Shawn had a sense that time froze, for just a moment.  There was no reaction

from Anya, and none from Chris.  After a moment Anya started to smile--but then

her face assumed a pensive look.

    "That's interesting, Shawn.  Do you think it will enhance Chris' love for

you?  Or enhance your own self-esteem, your own happiness?"  Another point Shawn

would recall in four years--she had never been mentioned by name in the Forbes

article.

    "None of the above.  But since this is only a game anyway, why not?"  Chris

looked at her, puzzled.

    Anya, however, threw her head back and almost shouted with glee.  "That's

the spirit!  A game!  Absolutely right it is.  That's what I like to see.  We

can always suspend our disbelief as long as it's all in the name of fun and

fantasy, right?"

    Before either had a chance to respond she continued, mimicking Jim Carrey. 

"Allllll Righty then.  In that spirit I am pleased to announce, big boobs it

is!  But now I should explain just a little bit about how this works.  It has to

be something he really wants, too.  Do you, Chris?"

    Shawn was now uncomfortable again.  This was getting entirely too personal. 

What can of worms had she just opened?

    Chris, though, seemed to be "in the spirit".  "That's great.  I'd be just

delighted for you to work your magic, Anya", he said, turning and winking at

Shawn.

    "Of course, Chris.  That's, uh, one of the things you'd like, right?" 

Chris, a bit puzzled again, nodded.  "Sure, why not?"

    "Good", said Anya.  "Because there's always a fair exchange in this sort of

thing, and the exchange needs to be agreeable too.  So there we are."

    Shawn, smiling, asked, "OK, Anya, so just how big are my boobs going to

get?"  She looked at Chris and returned his wink.

    Anya smiled--her widest yet.  "Big, Shawn.  Very big.  Oh, not enough to

fill a room or anything.  But a lot bigger than you'd expect.  And you won't

have to wait very long for it to happen."

    "So then", asked Shawn, "are you going to wave a magic wand?"

    "No need.  It's already done, as of right--about--NOW."

    Chris and Shawn at first noticed only a mild lightheadedness.  Quickly,

however, they began to experience a dizziness.  Then they remembered nothing

more, until--

    "Chris?  Are you all right?"  Shawn felt far from "all right" herself, but

her first thought was of her husband.

    "I'm OK.  What about you?"

    Both were feeling vaguely dizzy, vaguely nauseous, and strongly disoriented

as to time and place.  They were no longer in Anya's house, no longer on Anya's

block--in fact they were within a few minutes' walk of the parking lot at

Giancarlo's, where their Lexus appeared to be the last car remaining on the

lot.  Shawn looked at her watch.  It should have been between 10:15 and 10:30. 

Instead it was right at midnight.

    "Chris, what the HELL just happened to us?"

    "I don't know, babe.  Let's get in the car, because I mean to find out."

   

    The drive home was quiet, each feeling apprehensive.  After nearly half an

hour of searching they realized they were unable to find the street on which

they'd reached Anya's house a couple of hours before.  After another 20 minutes

or so they could no longer remember anything that had happened in Anya's house. 

    Another ten minutes, and they could no longer remember Anya.

    They drove home, feeling that something wasn't quite right, but neither of

them really able to express the feeling.  Both had felt a little--dizzy?-- right

after the meal, but it couldn't have been anything too serious, certainly not

enough to sour them on Giancarlo's.  And so neither mentioned any feeling of

apprehension to the other.

    Normally Chris got up at 5:30 for an early morning workout at the gym.  That

would be out of the question in the morning, since it would only allow about

four hours or so of sleep by the time they got home and were in bed. Still, you

only had one second anniversay--and the evening, after all, had been a lovely

one.

    Both of them felt sleepy by the time they reached the house.  Married two

years now, Chris thought, and already getting to the sex-every-other-night

phase, leaving sex-every-night behind.  But having someone like Shawn to cuddle

up to every night made him happy just the same, thank you.

    Just before he nodded off he thought he heard Shawn mumble something in her

sleep, something about a "fair exchange."CHAPTER TWO: 

DISCREPANCIES

    Chris woke up to the sound, and smell, of sizzling bacon wafting up from the

kitchen and through the open door of the bedroom.  Bacon, eggs, cinnamon

rolls--usually, of course, they breakfasted more healthfully than that, but this

was a once a week indulgence they both enjoyed.

    He looked at his watch.  Christ, almost 9:30--whatever it was that had

happened last night must have spent them and drained them; no wonder they hadn't

felt like sex.  He thought Shawn must have shaken off that dizzy spell first, as

she was the first out of bed.  He went to the kitchen to join her.

    "Morning, babe", he called.

    "Feeling all right?" she asked as he sat at the table, before a plate

already set.  "I thought I'd let you sleep in this morning--I hope you don't

mind that I turned off the alarm."

    "Not at all--I needed it.  Chris 2 can handle the office this morning, I

don't care if I catch hell about it when I get in."

    Shawn laughed.  "The only hell you catch is the hell you invite into your

office.  Given that you and she are equal plurality shareholders, it can't very

well be any other way--at least according to my arithmetic."

    Chris smiled back.  "Now, now, let's not go there again.  The company would

be a lot harder to manage without Chris 2 around, and that's a fact.  But how

are you feeling this morning--really?"

    "I'm great.  In fact I don't know when I've felt this good.  Maybe it's the

extra rest.  Anyway, whatever it was that was making us dizzy last night

probably wasn't the food--that meal was probably the best I've ever had at

Giancarlo's."

    Chris looked relieved.  "We can probably dispense with the notion of seeing

the doctor, then."

    Shawn smiled wickedly.  "Too bad--I guess I'll have to get my fantasy fix by

seeing a Tom Cruise movie instead of a visit to Dr. Alan."

    Their family physician--Alan Esterhase, M.D., internal medicine--bore a very

slight resemblance to the actor, except in height.  Alan was 6'2" and a lean 180

lbs., and Shawn sometimes kidded Chris that the good doctor would have been her

second choice if Chris had rejected her.  Chris took it in good-natured stride,

knowing full well he was firmly at the helm of Shawn's heart.

    "C'est la vie sometimes, my dear.  Delicious, by the way, but I've got to

get dressed and get going.  I know you're trying to hit the books to get ready

for going back to classes in January, and I'm for it all the way--"

    Just then a high-spirited and high-volume wail from Caitlin's room announced

that she was ready to start the day, and that she definitely expected to be in

on breakfast.

    Shawn finished his thought.  "Only it's an on-again off-again thing.  That

reminds me, we need to get serious about finding a nanny for the fall."

    "You bet.  I'm going to start setting up interviews through the agency

today.  Let me kiss the little tyke bye-bye and I'm off."

    Shawn, holding Caitlin in her arms as she returned to the kitchen, held her

up for Chris.  The toddler gurgled happily as she was kissed, seemingly already

trying to form words.

    As Chris hurried back upstairs to dress, Shawn noticed he'd only finished

half his plate.  Unusual.  Putting it out of her mind, she put the baby in her

high chair and put a small portion of scrambled eggs on her plate.

    Chris had no sooner seated himself behind his desk than his ubiquitous

namesake appeared, as always, in his office doorway--unannounced, uninvited, and

usually (as today) unwelcome.  Christina, aka Chris 2--a year his junior, but in

all respects his equal in technological and business savvy.  And of course his

partner and co-manager of the business.

    And, he mused, startlingly close to him physically as well.  An inch

shorter, ten lbs. lighter, same jet-black hair (hers cut short in a shag style),

looking somewhat  like a very young Joan Jett.  In fact they looked almost like

siblings, though they were unrelated.

    Chris got up to meet her, knowing what the first words out of her mouth

would be and determined to beat her to the punch.

    "No, I have not reconsidered; yes, I am still very much of a mind to

continue managing the company; and no, I do not think it would be a good idea

right now for the company to cash me out of my shares, as much as I could use

the cash infusion.  That answer your questions?"

    Chris 2 smiled.  Chris noticed she was wearing her 3" heels.  She made it a

point to do that every time she approached him on this particular subject, which

is how Chris had anticipated her line.  With her heels at 3" and his Johnston &

Murphy's at maybe 1" or less, she stood at least an inch taller than him--and

she seemed to like the feeling of authority it gave her.  Of course she would

never know--because Chris would never tell her--that he liked it even more.

    And it didn't hurt--it never hurt--that she had a more ample bosom than

Shawn.

    "Can't blame a girl for trying.  There's always next week," she purred.  She

turned and walked out toward her own equally large office at the end of the

eighth floor hallway, her perfect bitch-goddess ass accentuated by her snug, but

not too tight, Levi's.

    That's distracting, thought Chris.  Too damn distracting.  We're going to

have to do something about casual Fridays around this place.

   

    That night he and Shawn made love.  They held each other afterward for a

long time, Chris cupping Shawn's breast in his hand.  He couldn't shake the

feeling, just before he fell asleep, that it seemed slightly fuller.

CHAPTER THREE:  CONCERN

    Several days passed.

    The next time they made love Chris knew it was not his imagination.  Shawn's

breasts were slightly, but noticeably, larger.  The time after that his

knowledge was reinforced.  It was only a matter of time before she mentioned it.

    He didn't have to wait long.  It was the evening of June 26th, five days

after their anniversary.  A productive day: Chris had returned from work after

making progress on a promising new program design, just in time to join Shawn in

interviewing Josie Narvaez, easily their most promising candidate for a live-in

nanny.  The interview went well, and both Chris and Shawn knew they wouldn't

have to look any further.  They were getting ready for bed.  It was Shawn who

broached the subject.

    "Honey, there's something I think I'd better mention."

    Chris looked at her, eyebrow arched.

    "I know you've always said I'm perfect the way I am, so I hope this doesn't

come as a disappointment--particularly after that conversation we were having at

Giancarlo's the other night."  She looked both apprehensive and excited.

    "Your breasts?" he asked.

    She nodded.  "I thought you might have noticed.  A week ago I was just what

I was as a senior in high school--midway between nothing and an A-cup.  Right

now that A-cup is not only filled up, it's actually feeling tight on me.  And

it's not the bra band, that still fits perfectly.  I wonder if I should go to

the doctor after all?"

    "It might not hurt to be on the safe side.  But do you think it could have

anything to do with your period?"

    "It's possible, I guess.  It never used to have any effect, but pregnancy

and childbirth can change the body chemistry around a bit.  It's been close to a

year since my last physical anyway--Caitlin was just a few months old."

    Chris nodded.  "That's on your calendar for tomorrow, then.  But you might

better let me check this out a bit more closely to be sure."

    "You think so?"  Shawn took off her pajama blouse.  There was no question

they were bigger--bigger by close to a cup size.  "Can you tell?"

    "Yes, but come here.  I need to examine them a bit more thoroughly."  He

began to feel them, running his hands over the fleshy hills in comprehensive

fashion.  As he did so he got a raging hard-on, and got Shawn hot as well.  This

time they didn't make love--they fucked like beasts.

    Afterward they cuddled, as always, Chris with his right hand cupped over

Shawn's left breast.  Shawn thought, they're going to keep getting bigger.  I

don't know how or why, but they are.  She felt Chris stiffen again, this time

right against her butt, and she turned to face him.  The night got young again.

    "Dr. Alan" gave her a clean bill of health.  Her vitals were fine, CBC fine,

and the sudden breast size increase could easily be explained as a slight

post-pregnancy adjustment--not all that common, but not odd or abnormal either;

just let him know if they continue to grow or if there is any pain, hardening or

unusual discharge.

    Her breasts did indeed continue, very gradually, to grow.  She did not call

Dr. Esterhase.

    On the last day of June Shawn joined Chris at their pool.  Shawn was wearing

a new and skimpy string bikini she had just bought.  She'd realized she would

have to buy a new one, since the top to her old one was now a bit too revealing.

    She was now a perfect B-cup--larger even than she'd been while nursing

Caitlin.

    It got Chris' attention immediately.  He got up from his lounge chair and

walked toward the patio to meet her.  His arms went around her rib cage, his

mouth to her lips.

    "You know what I said before about how perfect you are?"

    "Yes?"

    "I meant every word of it.  But--"

    "But?"

    "You're even more perfect now.  And it looks like you're getting

increasingly perfect all the time."  He kissed her again, a longer, slower kiss.

    Shawn smiled languidly.  "Well, I'm glad the extra pound went to the right

place."

    "Extra pound?  I didn't notice it."

    "That's what I mean.  I'm hoping it's all in the bustline.  I'm still

wearing the same bra band size, it's only the cup that's bigger."

    Chris smiled.  "It looks like it runneth over.  So what are you, 121 now?"

    "Exactly.  Really packing it on.  You're still looking trim and fit,

though," Shawn said approvingly.

    "Actually I've dropped a pound. 159 this morning.  Maybe I need to get my

hormones checked too."  He winked as he walked her to the lounge chair next to

his.      She smiled as she noticed how his stride was affected by the tent-like

bulge in his swim trunks.  "I'd say your hormones are doing just fine."

    Another nine days passed.  Shawn gained another pound, about another

one-and-a-half inches of bustline, another cup size.  She was now a perfect C. 

Her breasts were still taut and firm, but she knew that couldn't last much

longer at the rate they were growing.  It was now necessary for her to buy more

than just a new swimsuit and new bras--she needed several new outfits and tops

to accommodate her swelling bustline.

    Chris, for his part, now seemed to have a more or less permanent erection

whenever he was around her.  Their sex life had become almost unbelievable.  He

would have an explosive orgasm almost as soon as he entered her--once it

happened during foreplay, and when she wasn't even touching him--but far from

spoiling the evening, he'd be hard again in ten minutes....and then he'd last a

very, very long time.  The previous evening Shawn had come three times during

that long "bonus round" session. 

    She'd gone to see the doctor once again, and Alan had ordered a mammogram. 

He discussed the results with her.

    "Shawn, I won't lie to you.  It's unusual, to be sure, this much of a change

this fast.  But it's not unheard of.  And again, I can't locate a single thing

physically wrong.  Mammogram, blood chemistry, hormone levels--everything, and I

mean everything, checks out normal.  You seem to have the healthiest breasts on

record.  Obviously if the situation continues you'll want to start thinking

about breast reduction surgery, but right now there's not much I can tell you. 

The growth needs to stabilize first.  Is it causing you any physical discomfort,

any back pain?"

    "Not at all."  She started to say something else, hesitated, thought better

of it.

    "Yes?" asked the doctor.

    "The fact is I....we, that is, Chris and I....well, I sort of like this. 

Speaking as someone who's been flat-chested all her life, that is.  To tell you

the truth it's done wonders for our sex life over the past few weeks."

    Alan smiled.  "Well, then....there it is.  Don't fix what ain't broken, says

I."

    "What did he say?" asked Chris, slightly apprehensive.

    "Clean bill of health.  Perfect health, in fact."

    Chris exhaled gratefully and hugged Shawn.  "I knew that would be the

verdict.  You know, while you were gone I had the perfect idea for our vacation

this summer."

    "Vacation?" Shawn asked.

    "Vacation.  We couldn't take one last summer.  In fact we haven't actually

had a vacation since our honeymoon.  But next month I figure--to paraphrase

Lauren Bacall--we've got some Royal Caribbean coming."

    Shawn's face lit up.  "A cruise?"

    "You got it."  This time Shawn hugged Chris, tightly.

    "It's what I've always wanted to do," she said.

    "I've kind of wanted to do it myself.  There's a week and a half cruise of

the Caribbean at the end of August that's perfect.  The agent says a couple just

cancelled on the presidential suite of the flagship of one of the major cruise

lines--it's ours if we confirm today."

    "Just do it!" Shawn squealed, hugging him again.

    "You got it."

    Shawn frowned, very slightly.  She had just noticed something that seemed a

little--off.  "Chris, are you--I don't know, losing weight or something?"

   "No, not really.  I was 158 this morning, but that's nothing major.  Why?"

    "I don't know, something just felt a little--I don't know--different?"  She

was puzzled; she couldn't really put it into words herself.

    "Well, just to be on the safe side I plan on getting a checkup myself before

the cruise.  I'm not too worried, though.  I still feel a little--oh, I don't

know--vigorous?"   He winked lasciviously; she winked back.  He took her hand as

he walked toward the stairway to the bedroom, his now omnipresent erection

leading the way.

    Did her hand seem just the slightest bit larger for some reason? 

Impossible, of course.  But still, he asked himself, why deny a perfectly good

fantasy--especially since Shawn would never know about it anyway?  His hard-on

once again answered that question for him.

CHAPTER FOUR:  REAL FEAR

    Several more weeks passed.  The late-August cruise date drew nearer.  Josie

was settling into her new job as Caitlin's live-in nanny (and part-time cook and

housekeeper), quickly becoming one of the family.

    And Shawn's breasts were growing, and growing....and growing.

    Chris had a doctor's appointment tomorrow, but for now they had decided to

go to the beach to get "warmed up" for the Caribbean.  Shawn was wearing a

brand-new bikini top--one she had bought the previous weekend, and which was

already tight.  She now weighed 127 lbs. and it was clear the entirety of the

extra seven pounds had gone to her bustline.  The F-cup top she had so recently

bought left noticeable quantities of breast flesh spilling out, over and

beyond.  She was now finding it hard to believe she had ever been flat-chested--and

looking at the perpetual pup-tent in Chris' trunks, she mused, he was just

finding it hard, period.

    At least she was still lean and taut everywhere else--as was Chris.  She

smiled.  It was just a matter of adjusting her exercise routine to devote a

little more to the back muscles, and she found she was able to handle the extra

weight easily enough.

    Chris, though aroused as always at the sight of Shawn's breasts, had

actually had other things on his mind the past couple of days.  He was losing

weight, his appetite was decreasing, and he didn't know why.  He even forced

himself to eat more than he wanted, and it didn't make any difference--the

weight seemed to be coming off at a fairly steady rate of about a pound every

nine or so days.  He was at 153, down from 160 only about two months ago. 

    Oddly enough, he looked just the same--same build, same musculature.  Why

didn't he look skinnier?  He had noticed his clothes starting to feel just a bit

looser, but it wasn't just at the waistband.  His shirt cuffs seemed to extend

ever so slightly further down his wrists; the trouser cuffs hung just a bit

lower, he thought.  But no, that wasn't possible.  As Chris considered this,

however, the unreality of shrinking didn't stop his dick from stiffening even

beyond the effects of Shawn's now wildly extravagant bustline.

    And did she seem the slightest bit taller now than she used to?  Again

impossible, he thought--the only thing about her that's getting bigger, from

anyone's perspective, is her bust.

    "....right, Chris?"

    "Huh?"  He suddenly nodded back out of his reverie.  "I'm sorry, Shawn,

what?"

    "I said, you are going to be keeping that doctor's appointment tomorrow,

right?"

    "Sure I am.  It's the last opportunity before we fly to Miami for the

cruise."

    "Good.  Because I can't shake the feeling that something about you is

different."  She paused, and smiled.  "Though obviously not as pronounced as the

difference in me."

    "I should hope not.  An analogous change in my endowments would have me

looking like John Holmes."  He bent to kiss her, and it turned into a longer and

more passionate embrace than either had intended.  Shawn wrapped her arms around

his neck and held him tightly, eyes closed.

    All at once, though, she seemed to stiffen slightly; she opened her eyes and

stepped back.  "Chris, this is going to sound really stupid, but...."

    "Yes?"

    "You've always been 6'1" exactly, right?"

    "Ever since around the time I graduated from high school.  Why?"  His heart

began racing--she was noticing this too.

    "Just--look, just have Alan check your height especially carefully tomorrow,

OK?"

    She had been thinking along the same lines, all right--but the look in her

eyes did not match Chris' feeling of arousal.  It was a look of genuine

concern--even of fear.

    Chris stood on the scales in the doctor's office, in his briefs only--as he

always weighed.

    "You're sure, doc?"

    "The scales don't lie, Chris--152, down eight pounds from your last visit. 

And you say no change at all in your regular routine, other than decreased

appetite?"

    "None."

    "I'd like to do some blood work, but nothing to get alarmed about.  You seem

perfectly healthy and fit, no wasting, none of the warning signs.  Just a

precaution."

    "Thanks--I know Shawn will feel better if I can show her the same clean bill

of health she got last month.  Say, Alan--could you do me a favor and check my

height?"

    "No problem, though I don't think we'll see any movement in either direction

on that," Alan smiled.  He brought the flat-edged measuring rod of the scale

down flush on Chris' scalp.  Chris stood up straight as he had always done as a

growing boy, eager to capture every tiny fraction of an inch of height to call

his own.  If anything, Chris was standing even straighter and taller now.

    Dr. Esterhase looked at the number and frowned.

    "Chris, are you sure you were standing up straight just now?"

    "Of course I was."  Chris knew what was coming, and his heart was

hammering.  "Why?  What does it say?"

    "Last year's checkup I had you measured at 6'1".  This shows you exactly

5'11" and a half."

    Chris stepped off the scale and looked directly at the doctor.  Sure

enough--usually he could look the 6'2" Alan Esterhase almost in the eye; now he

was looking up, into a face of confusion and concern.

    "What--what the hell's happening here?  What am I, shrinking?"

    "I don't see how.  I mean, that's just not possible.  As you get older you

tend to lose a slight amount of height due to thinning of the cartilage pads

between the vertebrae, but not an inch and a half--and not at your age.  Look,

it's possible you were mismeasured last time."

    "No, doc--I've been 6'1" since I was 18, and no mistake.  Something's

happening here."

    "Look, I'll run the bloodwork as I said.  But people don't just

shrink--there's a perfectly logical explanation.  If anything, the weight loss

should be more of a cause for concern, but I'm not even particularly worried

about that.  You and Shawn relax and get some rest before you start your cruise,

and I'll call you in the morning with your lab results--I'm sure they'll be

perfectly normal, Chris."

    "Thanks Alan.  Maybe you're right.  I mean, it's impossible, isn't it?"

    But as Chris left the office he realized it was not only possible, it was

happening.  And in the back of his mind there was something--some nudge, some

hint--that everything that was happening to him and Shawn had something to do

with that anniversary night at Giancarlo's.  He just wished he knew what it was.

    "Shawn, there's something I want you to do for me."  Chris looked down into

her eyes, and in that moment realized clearly--just as she did--that he wasn't

looking down as far as he used to.

    "Sure, honey.  Did everything go OK at Alan's office?"  She was concerned,

and it showed.

    "Fine, babe.  Could you do this for me--could you take off your clothes--"

    She managed a slight grin.  "This early?"

    "No, Shawn, I mean, take off your clothes and go weigh yourself. 

Carefully--I need an exact weight."

    Shawn's look of concern deepened.  "There was bad news, wasn't there?"

    "No, not at all, babe.  Everything's fine.  I just need to know what you

weigh."

    Shawn, now frightened, slowly took off her clothes, down to her bra and

panties in which she usually weighed.  Her immense breasts quivered slightly;

she was shaking.   She stepped on the scales, waited for the digital display,

and stepped off.  She looked at Chris: "128."

    Chris stared at her, his face blank and bloodless.  He understood what was

happening, even if not why: a pound for a pound.  One pound of his total body

mass, going directly to Shawn's breasts--they grew exactly as he shrank.

    One pound about every nine days.  At that rate he'd be gone in four years,

while her breasts would weigh 80 lbs. each.

    Stop it, he told himself.  It's impossible, besides which Shawn will pick up

on your fear and you'll just scare her more.  But it was happening.  He knew it

just as surely as he knew that it would continue to happen no matter what--no

matter his diet, or hers, or if she decided to have breast reduction surgery, or

anything else.

    But what shocked him more than anything right now was the fact that he was

aroused.  Knowing all this, he was fully, massively aroused.  The sight of his

gorgeous Shawn standing in front of him half-nude, her huge breasts, and the

knowledge of what was happening to them both--it was real, not fantasy; it was

threatening his life; and it was actually turning him on!

    "Chris, take off your shoes."

    "What?"

    "Please."

    Chris understood perfectly--she had to know, just as he'd had to know.  He

took off his shoes and walked over to take her hands.  No mistake--they felt

larger than two months ago.  It hit Shawn instantly.  Before, she could tell

herself she was imagining it.  No longer.

    Shawn's lip was trembling.  "Honey, what's happening?"

    Chris tried to relax, to appear calm.  "It's--"  He stopped.  What could he

say?  That something had somehow caused two of their deepest fantasies--her

playful one, and his darker, secret one--to become real?  That Shawn was fated

to grow breasts that would be beyond huge, while he gradually shrank away to

nothing?   And what was causing it--had they run afoul of some Gypsy curse

somewhere?   For God's sake this was 21st century America, not 15th century

Transylvania.   His own doctor had just told him that shrinking was impossible. 

They were going on a cruise, and they were going to enjoy it.

    "It's nothing, babe, really.  Alan isn't a bit concerned.  I've lost a

little weight, but he ran some blood tests and everything is going to come out

fine."

    The look of concern would not leave Shawn's face.  She hugged him, more

tightly now.  "I know you're fine.  We both are.  And this is going to be our

best damn vacation ever!"FAIR  EXCHANGE 

(cont.)

                                                             by  Vicente

CHAPTER FIVE: DENIAL

    Alan phoned in the news the next morning.  As expected, the lab work was

normal.  Chris, like Shawn, was the very picture of health, as befitted two

fitness-conscious, food-conscious, affluent young adults.

    They flew to Miami that afternoon, spending a night of fun and frolic at the

Fountainbleau.  The next morning they checked aboard ship to begin the cruise.

    Chris and Shawn were delighted to make new friends among the couples with

whom they had been assigned at table for evening dining throughout the cruise. 

One very happy couple, they noticed--Chris with perhaps more interest than

Shawn--featured a wife several inches taller than her 5'8" husband.  Whereas

before the cruise Chris, given his predilections, would have viewed that concept

as purely erotic, he now found it both stimulating and, in some sense,

comforting.  He mentally filed away for future reference the observation that it

was possible for a woman to love a smaller man.

    Whenever they were alone in their luxury stateroom, however, the wondrous

sex life of which Shawn had only hinted to Dr. Esterhase was in full force, and

comfort gave way entirely to lust.  Chris was both insatiable and inexhaustible;

Shawn's soft, massive, gently undulant breasts--now a perfect G-cup--were the

most potent aphrodisiac he could have taken, and take them he did.  His reach,

of course, exceeded his grasp--he could no more have taken one of those monsters

fully in his mouth than he could have cupped one in his hand--but he had fun

trying, and Shawn had fun letting him try.  She still believed that they were

responsible for 100% of his enhanced sex drive (or sex overdrive), rather than

only 90%.  Chris saw no need to speak with her at this point about the other

10%--it was enough for her to deal with just knowing that he was slowly

shrinking, without making her deal with the fact that some part of him (the

8-inch recreational part) actually enjoyed it.  Correction--now just slightly

less than 8 inches.

    When they left the ship at Cozumel with the tour groups, Alan in his swim

trunks and Shawn in her bikini, every male eye in the vicinity was nailed to

Shawn's unbelievable body.  It was that of a drop-dead gorgeous 20-year-old

fashion model, but with giant natural breasts that would, almost literally, make

a dead man come.  It was not unusual on that cruise for living men to come in

their pants from looking at her too long (i.e., over a minute).  Chris took all

this in with a sense of awe; it was worth it, he thought, to give up a little

height in exchange.  His penis voiced its enthusiastic agreement.

    Or it did until late in the cruise, on the night of the formal dance.  Chris

would remember it as the first point at which reality-driven apprehension began

to eclipse his lurid fetishistic fantasies of being a shrinking man with a

balloon-breasted wife.  By this time he was down to 151 lbs. (despite partaking

liberally of the gourmet food so freely available on board), and a tiny fraction

over 5'11".  Shawn, for the first time since the process had started, was

wearing 3" heels--nothing else would do for a formal dress.  Chris' own 1" heels

left him barely an inch taller than Shawn as they slow-danced, cheek to cheek. 

A few months ago, in the same footwear, there would have been a 3" difference in

their heights.

    Shawn just looked at him lovingly, almost eye-to-eye, and pretended not to

wonder where those two precious inches had gone.  This was bothering her more

and more.  Like Chris she had some vague notion that, not only was this process

an unnatural thing for which there was no scientific or medical explanation, but

that it somehow had something to do with that anniversary dinner at Giancarlo's

where they had been talking about her breasts.  She loved Chris dearly and

always would, and for now his truly incredible libido--which never failed to

satisfy her sexually--outweighed that slightly odd feeling she was starting to

get over the fact that she didn't have to look up as far, that her arms went

around him with a little more room to spare, and (this just in the last night or

two) that his penis felt ever so slightly less filling (she smiled to

herself--but great taste?)

    They enjoyed the rest of their vacation.  The Caribbean cruise, like the

anniversary dinner at Giancarlo's, was to become an annual event--for the next

three years.  It would never again be as happy as this interlude.

    The official story, among friends, relatives, and the C&C quasi-"family",

was that Shawn was suffering from a rare (but not unheard-of) condition

described as non-virginal hypertrophic bilateral gigantomastia of unknown

etiology.  Suddenly and inexplicably huge breasts, in layman's terms.  Alan

could think of nothing more plausible to call it.  Rare but, again, not

unheard-of.

    He was damned if he could think of anything to call Chris' condition, as he

confided to Chris on their next office visit.  Shrinking man syndrome, perhaps. 

The tape and the scale didn't lie.  Nor did the lab work, which continued to

announce vibrant good health--for Shawn as well as for Chris.  It was now early

November, and Chris was at 145 lbs., standing 5'10".  It wasn't quite at the

point of being noticeable to the outside world; most of those who knew them were

too busy marveling at the miracle of Shawn's breasts to notice what was

happening to Chris, and he had taken to wearing fake-heeled "elevator shoes"

most places to give himself an extra couple of inches of height.  But at this

rate it couldn't be much longer.  Chris was adamant with Alan about not bringing

the medical community in on this.  He would not risk unwanted notoriety, and

Alan respected his wishes.

    But even Josie--at a petite 5'3"--could see that something was happening

with Chris as well as, more obviously, with Shawn.  She would not assault his

privacy by mentioning it, but Chris knew that she knew.

    It was at this point that Shawn determined on a course of action that

finally confirmed, well beyond either of their capacities for denial, that

something unscientific, unknown, and unknowable was affecting them.  She was now

beyond a JJ-cup--beyond huge.  She was still able to carry herself with no

difficulty, thanks to a combination of aggressive exercise, yoga, pilates, and

high-protein muscle enhancing diet that gave her spinal column the fortitude it

needed to deal with the situation.  But enough was enough.  After all, she would

be going back to college in January to resume work toward her computer science

degree.  She had Alan make her a referral to a plastic surgeon for reduction

surgery.

    She and Chris talked it over and, reluctantly, he came around.  He agreed

that it was the only thing that made sense, but he had to wonder whether it

could really be as easy as this to deal with the whole thing.

    By the middle of November she was prepped and ready.  Her surgeon was one of

the finest in the state.  He sculpted her down to a perfect D-cup (Chris'

suggestion, of course); her chest was the proverbial artist's canvas, and the

scarring, for such a massive reduction, was so minimal as to be hardly

noticeable.  She was out of the hospital shortly, and Josie insisted on waiting

on her with almost as much attention as was paid to Caitlin. 

    She continued to feel better as the days went by.  Chris, though, continued

shrinking.  He was now at 143.  Gorging or starving, it seemed to make no

difference.  Where, then, was his weight going?

    The answer, when it arrived, was a shock.  Shawn had been out of the

hospital less than a week when she began to feel an unfamiliar sensation of heat

in her breasts--not unpleasant, but different.  Then they began to grow again. 

This time, however, it was faster--much, much faster.  No longer was she gaining

a cup size a week--this was a cup size a day.  At last, three weeks after the

surgery, the abnormal growth stopped--that is, it abated to the less abnormal

growth rate of the past five months.  Her breasts were larger than they had been

before the surgery, though.  They were in fact exactly the size they would have

been had the surgery never been done.

    Shawn and Chris didn't really want to talk about it, but they couldn't

really not talk about it either.

    "Honey, I don't think there's anything that can be done about this", Shawn

said, her lower lip quivering slightly.  "When will it end?"

    "It's OK, babe.  It's going to be all right.  As long as we have each

other--and we always will--we've got it all.  We're perfectly healthy,

fabulously so, and we'll stay that way.  This will have to stop sometime."  Of

course he and Shawn both knew that it had to stop sometime, but they also knew

that "sometime" might well coincide with the point at which Chris dwindled

literally to nothing.

    Shawn, tears streaming down her face, held her husband; he held her right

back.

    Almost Christmas--December 21st.  Josie had taken a holiday break to visit

relatives out of state, and the ever-more-ambulatory Caitlin was at last sound

asleep for the night.  Chris and Shawn sipped heavily liquored eggnog before a

blazing fireplace. 

    The couple had reached a point of intersection at which both weighed 140

lbs.  Never again, they knew, would Chris be the bigger of them.  And, thought

Chris, at 5'9" he was rapidly approaching the point at which never again would

he be the taller of them.

    "Happy Holidays babe", he toasted, as they clinked goblets.  It was an

unusually restful time for them--48 hours had gone by without their customary

once or twice daily romp, even though Shawn wasn't having her period and they

had finished all their Christmas shopping, and the attendant bustle, a week

before.  Perhaps they were just getting introspective in their "old age."  " I

think I'll go into the office for just a few hours tomorrow to wrap up some

projects before Christmas day."

    "Don't forget your "special" shoes; even though it's a Sunday right before

Christmas somebody could be in."

    Chris smiled.  "Right now that's hardly likely.  But I won't forget."

    He forgot.

    The next morning he was in his office, happily tidying up end-of-the-year

business.  It was going to turn out to be a profitable year, he knew, and as

much as he had grown to dislike talking to the smug, smirking Chris 2 about

anything, he knew they'd soon be talking about the joyful prospect of a 2-for-1

stock split. 

    A cup of java would go well about now--mastery of the coffee-making

equipment was something he'd taught himself early on, and so he was on his way

down the hall to the kitchen area as soon as the thought hit.  He didn't hear

the lock turning in the reception area door as he scooped coffee into the paper

filter and slid the plastic container above the pot--nor did he hear the door to

the kitchen open as he hit the "brew" button and waited for the coffee to

trickle through.

    He did, however, hear a sudden gasp--from a female throat.  It was Chris 2. 

She crossed the room quickly and stood directly before him--towering over him by

3", without her 3" heels.  Chris had a sinking feeling as he realized he'd

forgotten to wear his cheaters.  He looked up at Chris 2--up higher than he'd

ever looked at her, with the highest heels she'd ever worn.  And right now she

was wearing sneakers, just like him.

    Chris 2 looked down at him.  She smiled.

    "So the rumors are true.  Excellent.  I think it's time for us to negotiate,

little man", she said.CHAPTER SIX:  ANGER

    "Baby!  Your face!  What happened?"

    Chris hated to

Giantess Stories: FAIR EXCHANGE                                                            by Vicente  AUTHOR

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