[pseudoclever]

20. Razor's Edge


During the summer months, the sun came blindingly through the massive picture window at ASM Nutrition. The only place to escape it was in the back of the store, on that little raised platform Tiffany had built so long ago. From here I could save myself from the glare, and watch the half dozen or so customers browsing the shop. Today though, I had eyes only for my little stock boy.

Several wonderful months had gone by before I would have dared call him that – 'My Little Stock Boy,' I mean. There was no way I could think of him as little, not at first anyway. Not during the weeks when I'd been so small that I depended on him for my every need. We'd been right about the steam, of course. Unfortunately, the best I could do that first night was recover a foot or so of my lost height. Tiffany had mumbled something about entropy, and I'd told her to shut up. At that point I was maybe three times her size, and wisely, she had.

Anthony wasn't little for a long time. When I was two, three, even four feet tall, the cream had been so effective that I'd grown in leaps and bounds each day. Then that glorious evening came when everything changed, when I was finally as tall as Anthony again. That had been the night we'd made love for the first time, and I was glad we waited. Not for any puritanical reasons, you understand – even at five foot four, he was almost more than I could handle.

I didn't use that nickname during the long, slow grind that came after. As often as possible he'd massage the growth cream into me. It became our foreplay ritual. And night after night I continued to inch up, get taller and taller, feeling myself grow as we made love. Every day I could fit just a bit more of him inside me. And better, he wasn't afraid of breaking me, the way he'd been before. Once in awhile, I could even turn the tables on him, and give my man a serious run for his money.

When I had finally regained my normal size, he had this convenient way of keeping me from thinking of him as small. He kept it right there, between his thighs. But circumstances demanded that I keep using the growth cream, and bit by bit, his massive member became easy mode for me.

It wasn't until I'd surpassed Tiffany's old height, six foot six, that I'd tried out that nickname. My little stock boy. It'd even come out in song, to the theme from that old cartoon about the ponies. He'd blushed, then laughed in that reedy, carefree way he does when you really tickle his funny bone. “Only a matter of time,” he'd said, and when I asked him what THAT meant he wouldn't say.

Closing time was coming. The sun was growing orange-red out there on the horizon, and one by one the customers came to the back of the store, checking out. Some were familiar, and chatted with me. Most barely had the courage to meet my gaze. One young lady was so nervous that she practically threw her bottle of weight-gain powder at me. It rolled, and dropped to the floor on my side of the counter.

I knew what was on her mind immediately. Like knows like, I think I've said. She was measuring me with her eyes. So when I bent to retrieve the bottle, I made sure to give her an extra-long look down the front of my shirt, at my G-cup breasts that no bra could quite contain. She blushed bright pink, and fled the story without even saying thank you.

That's the funny thing about being a shade under seven feet tall – people don't really know how to deal with you. They're either fascinated, or want to run like hell. Being small had it's appeal, and I do miss the time I spent with my friends, tiny and helpless. Seriously though, I loved being huge. That not-so-secret part of me, that one that was addicted to size, could be high on its favorite drug twenty-four hours a day now. Anthony barely came up to my breasts anymore...and Tiffany?

Speak of the devil. Our little house-elf, as I liked to call her, pushed the stockroom door open, and came waddling in. She carried a massive stack of boxes, maybe a hundred pounds worth. The tiny girl was grunting with exertion, but seemed to manage okay. I grinned at her, impressed. Tiffany returned the smile, then balancing carefully, duck-walk over to Anthony and dropped the boxes at his feet. “That should be the last of the Wheybolic,” she huffed, wiping a trickle of sweat from her brow as she stared up at him.

“Nice work, kiddo,” he said, giving the tiny girl an affectionate pat on the head.

“Hey now,” Tiffany said, taking a step back and sticking her tongue out at him. “I wouldn't do that if I were you. Do you have any idea how much exercise I get lugging this shit around? I may be small, but I bet dollars to donuts I'm stronger than YOU, Mr. Spielman.”

He patted her again. “Yes yes. We're all afraid of tiny Ms. Popeye.” Anthony turned, calling across the store to me. “Hey Sam, do you mind if we close a little early? It's only eight forty-five, but tonight IS a special occasion after all.”

I nodded. “Just this once is okay.” Intimately aware of how they both always watched me, I moved across the showroom in long-legged, sensuous strides. After locking up, I came to stand between my two much smaller friends. “Special occasion, huh? What's all this about, you two?”

Anthony and Tiffany exchanged a significant look. “Well,” squeaked the tiny girl. “First of all, it's your birthday, you big dufus.”

I clasped my hands beside my head, feigning a swoon. “You REMEMBERED!”

“Facebook,” Anthony smirked. He wrapped his arms around me, hugging my giant frame with his smaller one. God, it was still a total turn-on to feel how low down on my body he reached when he did this.

“Yes, well,” Tiffany went on, a tinge of jealousy in her voice. “You see, you've been so good to the both of us these past few months. All the work you've done for my...excuse me, OUR shop. The hours you've put in. Not to mention your attention to my, ah, special needs.”

I laughed. “Those needs are your own fault Tiffany! We might be able to get you over four feet tall for a couple days, if only you would stop convincing Anthony and me to dose you with shrinking cream!”

The girl, who was no taller than my navel, grinned at that. She even blushed a little. “Hey, if you guys would stop making it feel so Goddamn good to shrink....” All three of us shared a long chuckle at that.

“Actually, that's a good transition. It DOES feel good to shrink. So why, I have to ask, have you been depriving yourself of it for so long? Come on Sam, we know you don't want to be a giantess forever.”

Now it was MY turn to blush, a strange thing for a woman who most recently measured in at six foot eleven to do. “I haven't been DEPRIVING myself. I mean, well, I have, but...it feels good to grow, too. You know that, Tiffany. Maybe not quite AS good...and maybe it doesn't hit all the same buttons.” I took a deep breath, and forced myself to slow down. “Besides, I've been doing YOU a public service. Acting as a bank for all the size you've been losing.”

Anthony and Tiffany shared another look. “So, does that imply you've been waiting for her to make a withdrawal?” he asked quietly.

“Anthony?” I peered down at them, seeing them both staring back expectantly. “Do you...WANT me smaller?”

“Much,” he said, immediately.

“Tiffany, you too?”

“More than anything in this world.” Her grin looked twice again too big for her face, and in a moment, I saw why. There was something in her hands. Something familiar, and green, and plastic. With a minus sign scrawled on its side. “I think it's high time someone acted as YOUR size bank. And here...why don't I just make a little deposit for you right...now.” She unscrewed the cap, dipped her tiny fingers in, and came out with a massive hunk of serum.

Involuntarily, I started to back away. Anthony's arm slowed me just enough. The cream touched me on my bare midriff. What a day to start wearing belly-shirts, I thought, in the moment before a soft moan escaped my lips. A trickle of steam began to rise from my body. And suddenly, my two little friends didn't seem that little.

I had forgotten how good this felt. The blissful sensation of sinking toward the floor, the pressing building up inside. It was hard to keep myself under control...and soon, I gathered, it would be impossible. “Just how small are you guys planning on making me?” I asked, feeling my formerly skin-tight jeans slide past my hips.

Tiffany advanced on me, seeming to grow with each step she took. “Put it this way. Tonight, you're going to be eating from the kids menu.”

“If you even have the energy to leave the store,” Anthony whispered, directly into my ear. A place he was already tall enough to reach without standing on tip-toe.

Each of them took one of my hands, and slowly, mindful of my shaking legs and impossibly baggy clothing, they led me into the back room. We never did make it to the restaurant that night. Or, for that matter, the next.

It's good to have friends.

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I want to thank you one and all for your wonderful comments throughout this story. They really are what makes the time and effort to put together a story like this worthwhile. There will be other stories from me someday, but for now, that old rattling specter, REAL LIFE, has returned to rob me of my spare time. So sad. Though at least this story is finished.

...Except it isn't. There are a large number of blank spaces left by this ending, as you might've noticed. I would imagine some of you would like to find out what happened to our three characters during the intervening months? Well good news. I'm preparing a number of shorter stories - three - to fill in that time in a bit more detail. I have no guess as to a release date. Only know...it'll happen.

Until then.