[pseudoclever]

2.

By now my growth spurt was coming to an end. Hands on hips I turned, five and a half feet of liquid seduction, and met his gaze. He was staring right at me, all confusion and desire and just a little bit of fear. I gave him a moment, let his eyes ride the roller coaster curve of my newly expanded body, let him take in everything there was to see. Then, smoldering, I moseyed on over to his treadmill.

?Allison.?

Brown Eyes cocked his head like a dog whose master has just faked throwing a Frisbee. ?I, umm...excuse me??

I giggled. He was so CUTE when he was out-classed! ?Name. Mine's Allison.?

He had shut off the treadmill by now, was standing there, his hair that hot, spiky mess that guys get sometimes when they've been working out. ?I ? oh. Timothy. Is mine. Friends call me Tim.?

?So. Timothy, then.? I gave him a sly smile, took a step closer. ?Well Timothy, this can go one of two ways. Either with you asking the questions. Or ME.? I moved another half-step forward, draped my arms over the treadmill safety bar (it had been shoulder-high no more than two minutes earlier, and now only came up to my chest.) ?YOUR questions are going to be really boring. Are you okay. Did that actually just happen. Who what where when why.?

?I DO feel like asking some of those right about now,? Timothy mused, almost, but not quite succeeding in coming off cool, calm and collected. Not bad, I thought. ?But before we go that way, why don't you tell me what's behind door number two??

?If I ask the questions, you mean?? Yes, he was doing just fine. ?Well, why don't I give you a little sample. And remember ? truth or dare rules apply. No fibbing.?

Most of the color had come back to his cheeks by now, and he looked as if he just might be having fun. ?Never.?

I grinned at him winsomely, tucked a stray lock of jet black hair behind my ear. ?Good. Well, first of all Timothy, did you like my little, ah...performance??

He nodded enthusiastically.

My smile broadened. ?I knew the answer to that one, but I thought we should start easy. The next one is harder, though.?

I paused, lifting both arms above my head. Then I slowly spun three-hundred sixty degrees on the tip of my toe, like a music box ballerina. He had a long moment to drink it all in. My well-toned, muscular physique. My beautiful legs, still my best feature, and now even longer by proportion. The perky B-cup mounds of my breasts. And of course, the way all of it was stuffed into an outfit now three or four sizes too small for the body it held. ?The question Timothy...what do you think? Am I more attractive now than when I came in??

He hesitated, but for only a fraction of a second. ?Yes, for sure. Not...I mean, ah...that you weren't before, but....?

?Shh.? I reached out, placed the tips of my two largest fingers against his lip, silenced him. It was the first time we had ever touched. I don't know if he felt anything in that moment. But I did. ?Backing away from your answers is against the rules. And anyway, you were honest enough. So, you earn a bonus.?

I bent, slowly, deliberately, and retrieved the bottle ? the one that definitely did NOT contain sports drink. I held it above me, as high into the air as I could reach, and turned it end-over. Now it was suspended directly over the modest new swells of my breasts.

I gave him just long enough to realize what was about to happen. Then I squeezed.

A thick stream of wetness squirted out, dribbling all down my chest, so cold that it made the breath catch in my throat. My taut white tank top was instantly soaked, causing the fabric to cling to my curves like a second skin, and also making the garment semi-transparent. Timothy now had a GREAT view of my entire upper body. Through the damp cloth he could see the shape of my bust, my body's creamy mocha skin tone, the hard ridges and lines of my recently acquired six pack ? yet everything was just enough obscured to make sure he still wanted to see more.

Ah, but my little one girl wet t-shirt contest was just incidental, folks. The real bonus was what happened next.

He was still staring at my breasts ten seconds later, when they started to grow. And as they did, Timothy's eyes seemed to grow right along with them. Second by second my boobs were swelling up, peeling the wet tank top away from my skin as they grew. My nipples puffed larger as well, going from the size of blueberries to that of fat, late autumn grapes. Throughout all of this I don't think I ever once stopped moaning. I mean really, I can't even begin to describe how good this felt. To say it was like having twin orgasms radiating outward on my chest...well, no, that doesn't do it justice at all.

After what felt like a tiny eternity, my growth finally subsided. Panting with the exertion and the afterglow, I admired the results. Conservatively I was packing at least a D now, on a frame that still looked built for B's. At this point even if my shirt hadn't been soaking wet, my chest had stretched the fabric so thin that it might've been see-through anyways. And Timothy, poor Timothy...he seemed to have become incapable of speech. The expression on his face went beyond amazement, bordered on impending hysteria.

?Oh come on, Timmy-boy,? I teased, playfully punching him on the arm (perhaps with a bit more strength than I'd intended. Oh well, he was tough enough to take it.) ?Don't act like you've never seen a pair of tits before. There must have been at least a COUPLE in your life as nice as these, right? Besides, our little game of twenty questions isn't over yet.?

I still held the bottle, clutched in my left hand. Smirking, I began to twirl it in a slow circle between my fingers. ?Next one. And heads up, it might be the most important one of all. Timothy...how do you feel about...tall girls??

There was no hesitation this time, almost as if he'd been expecting this question. ?I like them.? His voice came out in a hoarse whisper, his cheeks a brilliant pink flush of embarrassment. ?A lot.?

?Oh, goodie.? I popped the top, held it to my mouth. My eyes flicked back and forth, from his face to the bottle. ?Should I??

He nodded.

I placed the tip between my lips, paused, pulled it back again, grinning. ?Tell me, how much should I drink though? A sip for an inch? A gulp for two?? I giggled girlishly. ?I guess what I'm asking you is, HOW tall do you like your women??

Timothy only stared, for a long moment. Long enough that I started to think the shock had finally gotten to him, and maybe I had fried one of his circuits or something. But then he smiled. The smile of a man who still thinks himself to be dreaming, but has decided to make the most of it before dawn's cruel light brings him around.

?More than a gulp,? he murmured, in a thick, cinnamon voice. ?Drink a whole, whole lot more. Because the answer is...I like girls...who are taller than you would believe.?

The words sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine. Without another word, I held the bottle's tip between my teeth, and squeezed. I didn't stop drinking until I felt the first little rush of warmth, the spreading pins and needles. Only then did I put the bottle down, wipe at my mouth with a little sigh of satisfaction, and watch as the changes began.