[pseudoclever]

4.

Timothy thought about my proposal for a moment, shrugged. With some difficulty he extracted himself from my embrace, and retrieved the bottle from where I had unwittingly thrown it during my last growth spurt.

“How big...I can't say for sure, Allison. I really don't know what the limit would be.”

“Really?” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “That's such a cop-out answer. Here you have the most beautiful girl you've ever seen. She's willing to do whatever you want. And you can't even come up with a simple NUMBER?”

Timothy held up both hands, trying to calm me. “Woah, hey! I never said I couldn't come up with A number. I just don't think it'll be THE number. It'd be like, I don't know, trying to write down the square root of infinity. But....” He paused, looking at me sheepishly, and pressed the plastic bottle into my hand. “How about this: why don't you have another drink, and we'll see how close we can get to that number?”

I glared at him evilly. But it turned out I couldn't hold that expression for more than a few seconds before it broke into a grin. “God, you're awesome.” I lifted the bottle in a mocking salute. “Why don't you step into my office, and we'll see where the night takes us?”

“Your...office?”

I couldn't answer; I was already beginning to take my first draft from the bottle. I simply pointed toward the door, linked arms with him companionably, and led him slowly from the room. We were barely out the door before I once again felt that familiar heat, the tingling. And then, the tiny surge of inertia in the pit of my stomach as I began to grow.

Now we were walking down the long, ceramic-tiled access hallway, toward someplace a bit more intimate. Already I found myself stooping, bending at the knee, struggling to keep my grip comfortable on little Timothy. He followed, trying to keep up with my ever-lengthening strides. The look on his face was that of a six year old boy on Christmas Eve, a boy who is absolutely certain he has just heard hooves stamping up on the rooftop.

By the time I pushed my way into the women's locker room, my head was only an inch or two beneath the top of the door frame, and the waves of growth-pleasure were so strong that I could barely see straight. Yet I was pretty certain that my growth was only just getting started.

Because you see, during that entire walk, nearly a full minute, I had never once stopped drinking.

Before the door had even swung shut behind us I was on him, had him pinned against the wall, was kissing him savagely. He tried to kiss me back, but by this point I was completely out of control, and nearly eight inches taller than him. No, make that nine. And so, for the first few seconds at least, it was all he could do to just weather the storm of my carnality.

The sensations...just too numerous to list. The tickle of his clothing on my bare skin. His body dragging against mine, always in the same direction – down. My breasts swelling, now well past any kind of sensible letter scale, and practically overflowing with pleasure. My arms and legs surging with new energy. His lips, his tongue. His hands. My God his hands! They seemed to have been gifted with super natural prescience, somehow knowing all the right places to touch even before I did.

I'll admit, though, that maybe this was because by then I was so amped up that ANYWHERE he touched felt right.

I was now too tall to kiss him comfortably, dropped to my knees before him. This gave the illusion that I was shorter than him – and MUCH shorter at that: my eyes came up no higher than the center of his chest. But at the rate I was growing, that was going to change pretty goddamn fast.

He was still stroking me at random, his hands on my cheeks, in my hair, when I had a bit of ferocious inspiration. Reaching up suddenly, I caught both his arms by the wrist, pushed, pinned them against the wall. “Ah, ah, ah,” I whispered, looking up from my knees with a predatory grin. “It feels nice, sweetie, it really does. But right now, I'M in charge. And that means I get to do what I want. So right now. I want. To touch. YOU. And...guess where I'm planning to start. Go on, little man. Guess.”

I had felt it earlier, in the gym, the first time we'd kissed...a large, solid shaft, sticking straight out from between his legs, pressing against me like the prodding finger of a child desperate for attention. Looking down, I could see its hard outline, roughly even with the height of my belly-button, still sinking lower as I continued to expand.

“Have I got you all EXCITED, Timothy?” I asked, beginning to run the tip of my index finger down the center of his shorts. “Am I really THAT good of a kisser? Was it all the heavy petting? Or...could it just...possibly...be...that you got this turned on...by watching me GROW?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately, his voice coming out from between clenched teeth. “To all four.”

I had forgotten our little question game, but even with everything that was happening, Timothy apparently had not. “Oh, good answer. VERY good answer, sweetie. You earn ANOTHER bonus.” I began to caress his length more firmly, using the flat of my palm, all the while moaning softly. As if triggered by his pleasure, in that instant my height decided to give one of those punctuated little surges. The world rapidly dwindled around me, and none of it appeared to dwindle more than Timothy. Still from my knees, my gaze now came all the way to his collarbone.

“So....” I drawled, feeling another growth spurt begin almost as soon as the previous ended. “You were lying earlier. When you told me you like tall women.” His eyes widened, but before he could reply I went on “What you meant to say was, you like GIANT women.” My lips could now reach the soft arc of his neck, and I paused for a moment to give him a big, wet kiss at the sensitive place midway between his shoulder and his ear. “This will go so much easier for you if you stick with the truth here. So tell me if I'm right. You like women who are much, MUCH bigger than you. We're not talking by a few inches either, or even a few feet. You want a girl who is bigger than has ever existed outside of faerie tales...or your wildest dreams. True or false?”

“T-true,” he answered. I couldn't tell if the hot flush on his face was from embarrassment or ecstasy, but for my purposes, one was as good as the other.

“I see,” I mused, nibbling lightly on his chin. “And why don't you tell me, how long have you liked them? How long have you wished that some tiny, little girl in your life...like me...would start to grow right in front of you, hm? How long have you wanted to watch as she got bigger...and stronger...and sexier?” Each word seemed to be a self-fulfilling prophecy, catalyzing my growth, making my body twitch and spasm with pleasure. “And how long have you wanted that big, powerful girl to look down from her massive height, notice little old you standing there, decide to have her way with you? Hmm? Tell me, Timothy.”

“As...ah! As long as I can remember,” he managed. “I u-used to think about it all the time, in my...f-fantasies.” He took a deep, rattling breath, fighting to compose himself. “I...I still do. All the time.”

At this point, with the level of stimulation I was giving him, I was surprised he could still speak. Time to up the ante, I thought. Still swelling larger before him, I slipped one enormous hand down the front of his pants.

“Good sweetie,” I hummed, stroking his silky-smooth member from top, to bottom, to top again. “You've kept that a secret for a long time, haven't you? Aw, see what you get when you keep being honest with me? Here's a really, really hard question for you though. Have you...ever had one of those fantasies...about ME?”

Timothy gasped. Again, I wasn't sure whether it was my words or my touch that made him do it, though thinking back on it now, it was probably the former. “I...I can't...ah!” He shook his head, trying to clear it, then looked right down into my face, a species of shame in his eyes. “Allison...you were my favorite.”

The joy I felt in that moment seemed to cause another growth spurt. This one bigger than almost any other before it. “Well I've got news for you little guy. These past months, when I've been lying in bed, all by myself, feeling lonely and wanting someone to touch...I've thought about YOU. Tonight, I'm going to make BOTH our fantasies come true. Once, that is, you answer just one...more...teeny...tiny...question.”

I paused, fondling his length, let him watch in silence as I swelled up another inch. Then I pressed myself tight against him, whispered in his ear. “Now that it's finally happened...now that you have your dream girl. She's here. Strong. Beautiful. And yes, so very, very big, right here in front of you...what exactly...do you want her to do?”

He struggled to speak, gasping and groaning, and finally managed to say six words. “I...want her to...keep...growing!”

Here I kissed him, full on the mouth, finally tall enough to do so without reaching or straining. Two tongues danced, one large, one small, as we came together in what might have been one of the great soul kisses of the twenty-first century. When at last it ended, we were both out of breath, hair askew, red-faced and panting.

Slowly, oh so slowly, I began to stand. It was like growing a second time, as I brought my full height to bear on the tiny man before me. Timothy watched, face full of wonder, until I once again towered over him. I guessed that I was almost, but not quite, eight feet tall. He was barely chest-height to me – eye level with my diamond-hard tits, which themselves had grown to the size and shape of large cherries. And as I was coming to expect, there were other, subtle changes in the rest of my appearance. My legs were much longer and more slender, hips were wider, waist thinner. Even my skin, which had always been the color of strong tea with a tiny splash of milk, seemed to be taking on a healthy, almost bronze hue.

“You're sure?” I asked, bending to breathe the words in his ear, my long black hair falling into his face. “That you want me to keep growing? Because I CAN get bigger for you, Timothy...and I think I want to be bigger too, almost as much as you do. The only real question is...are you sure? And, of course...will you know what to DO with all of me once I've finished growing?”

He grinned, met my gaze, shrugged. “Only one way to find out, I suppose.” And then as if by magic, the bottle was in his hands, and he was passing it to me. “But one way or another...it's going to be one hell of a ride.”