At the Gym [story]

[pseudoclever]

Hey everyone! Back again with another story, and I'm happy to say that this is going to be the first of many that I'll be posting between now and the end of the year. So, let's get started with what you need to know for this first one.

Full Tags
This story includes elements of: Mini and Meso GTS, BE, mild to moderate FMG, Gentle, and, as you'll know if you've read any of my other stories, 18+.

Major Influences
Stephen King's The Dark Tower series and the anime series FLCL - both primarily for rhythm, phrasing, and style.
Stewy's great SM/GTS story 'My Sister Naomi,' which if you haven't read yet I suggest you find. In particular the dialogue style was greatly influenced by this one.

Update Schedule

We've got seven chapters, and I'll be posting one every other day, taking Saturday off.

Comments, Typo-corrections, and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism are welcome and encouraged.

Okay, that's enough jabbering for now. Let's get on with it.



At the Gym
by pseudoclever


1.

The storm had been rolling in all evening, just taking its sweet time about it, like it was too blas? to just go ahead and rain. It had perched on the horizon since sunset, giving off occasional yellow-green flashes of lightning, even more occasional distant rumbles of thunder. There was no doubt about it: this storm was going to break. We all have that ancient monkey-sense that tells us when a big one is coming. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck were up. There was this gurgly thrill of excitement in the pit of my stomach. Sweaty palms, the whole nine.

Not that I believed for a second this was ALL because of the storm. I had a job to do that night, and even with clear skies I would've been on edge.

There was only one other car in the parking lot when I arrived, and I recognized the license plate. It was his. I felt another little rushing thrill, this one having zero to do with the weather. The game was on. Giving those dirty black clouds a quick look, I grabbed my stuff from the backseat, made my way to the front of the building, scanned my keycard. The door beeped at me accusingly, then obediently swung open.

Even from the entryway I could hear it: the familiar thump-thumping and electric whine of his usual late-night treadmill run. I smiled to myself, silently closed the door behind me, snapped the deadbolt into place. It was after midnight by now, and this time of night it was usually just him and me at the gym. But, you know, an ounce of prevention and all that jazz.

I walked down the long hallway, made a right turn into the workout room. Yes, it was him alright. Chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, messy hair ? definitely my old pal, Mr. Brown Eyes. God help me, it'd been two months and I STILL didn't know his name.

He smiled at me, gave a little wave, went back to staring politely at a blank spot on the wall in front of him. First rule of gym etiquette: don't ogle the ladies. Brown Eyes always adhered to it, at least when he knew I was looking. Sometimes though, when my back was turned and I was deep into my pilate series, I swear I could feel his eyes on me. And, well, since I've been telling you about how I was basically stalking this guy and all, you've probably gathered that I wasn't offended by his interest. If only I hadn't been such a total wimp, I might've even been able to DO something about it. Because you know, he probably liked what he saw.

I could wax poetic here about my silky long legs, my flawless face, with skin the color of overripe olives, etcetera, etcetera. But there's really only one way I can think of to put the right image in your head. So do this for me: imagine the cutest asian girl you've ever seen in your life. The kind that would give an entire generation of otakus permanent flag-pole-itus. Go on, do it. Close your eyes if you have to.

Got her? Good.

Now imagine that I've gone and went all Highlander on her perfect little ass, won an epic sword fight. Lightning strikes. There can be only one. At that point, you MIGHT be close to doing me justice.

Okay okay fine, that's a slight exaggeration. It's at least CLOSE to the truth, though, if you overlook a couple paltry little details. Like my A-cup boobies...my total LACK of curves...the fact that I top out at a measly five foot three. Sigh, fine. Five three, in my favorite pair of fuck-me platforms.

Ah, but all that would change tonight, wouldn't it? That would change. So would my shrinking violet attitude with men. And most of all, Brown Eye's stupid etiquette.

Grinning, I popped the top on my sports drink. My 'sports drink,' if you catch my drift. No? Well you will. I took one long pull, shuddering at the bitter, half rancid taste, replaced the cap. Then, like Clark Kent exploding out of his business casual button-up to reveal that big red 'S,' I unzipped my jacket. Beneath it was a skintight white tank top and a too-small pair of spandex ass pants. I took a deep breath, picked up the heaviest set of weights I could manage, and moved into that little strip of no-fly-zone into which Brown Eyes was currently staring.

In other words, like right in front of his face goddamn face.

I was a little coy about it, at least at first. Like I didn't look right AT him. Instead, I gave him a sort of a three-quarters look. Facing away, at such an angle that he could see my back, butt, and just enough side-boob to pique his interest. I'd spent some time the night before perfecting this in the mirror, and DAMN it was hot. Of course, by the time I got around to rehearsing I wasn't anywhere NEAR as short as I currently was.

But...patience.

Did you know there's ANOTHER monkey sense humans have? We all know when we're being watched. Well, my sense lit up like a road flare the instant I went into my stretching routine. My quarry smelled the bait, alright. A few side bends, some jumping jacks. And then I brought out the yoga. By then I was certain I had his attention, and just in time ? I could feel the 'sports drink' starting to kick in.

Heat. Pins and needles. And then...know that swelling you feel in your chest, when you take a really, really deep breath? Imagine that, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, and every wonderful place in between. Oh, and also imagine it feels like coming in your pants the entire time.

I heard Brown Eyes miss a step on the treadmill, pretended not to notice. I let him watch, watch me as I started to grow. It didn't take more than five seconds, this first spurt, as my whole body slowly expanded like soft, rising dough. Already tight clothes became just a bit tighter. Arms gained just the slightest hint of muscle tone. A barely noticeable lengthening of my legs. And...well, I guess what happened to my tits was pretty hard to ignore. Where before I had sported a pathetic little pair of clementines, I was suddenly packing a full set of vine-ripened, Florida fresh oranges. They felt...nice. After twenty-three years on the itty-bitty titty committee, the extra weight and warmth against my chest felt indescribably awesome.

Oh, but this was just the appetizer.

Theatrically wiping sweat from my brow, a brow that was an even two inches higher off the ground than it had been a moment before, I reached again for the bottle. This time I drank more than a sip, greedily sucking down several long gulps before I put it aside again. The stuff still didn't taste very good, but at least now it was palatable. I bent over, giving Old Brownie an extra long look at my shapely new butt, and went into my routine. Here followed a number of arm and back exercises that, honestly, were a total sham. Because what I was actually doing was watching. Watching him watch me. Until, that is, the tingling came again.

This time it happened slower, yet the feeling was MUCH more powerful. A stretch that seemed to just go on, and on. I felt my shirt tightening around my deepening curves, my butt swelling to overflow my tight little workout pants. I stepped out of my shoes before they could get too uncomfortable, kept pumping iron, still pretending not to notice anything was amiss.

It kept going. I was still getting bigger. And, for that matter, stronger. An exercise that had been challenging only moments before was now laughably easy. God, that felt good. What little fat I had in my body was slowly turning to rock-hard muscle. Not quite the 'body builder' look, but man, I was getting pretty buff for a chick. Sweat, real this time, dripped from my body. All the while everything, absolutely everything in the room seemed to be steadily becoming smaller. What a rush!

Was Brown Eyes enjoying the show? It was time to find out.

[Nixemus]

Oh. My. God. I love this already.

[Kerberos]

Bust out the floats it's time for a flipping parade! Great work as always Pseudo. I like this story as much as all your others though I have to say this new idea, that she's already going for the gold, is awesome as all get out.

[amateur]

Interesting to see the first-person perspective used as a female protagonist - especially since your girls have a habit of going out and acquiring whatever phlebotinum they need to make their changes.

I cannot wait to see where you go with this - especially if you draw it out like in your other stories. That's one of your strengths, I feel; your sense of restraint is rare in this community and it's muchly appreciated.

Carry on!

[pseudoclever]

Originally Posted by Kerberos

...though I have to say this new idea, that she's already going for the gold, is awesome as all get out.

If by that you mean that we're not spending a chapter just TALKING about growth, and instead we're getting right to it...yeah, I was happy I went that way too.

Originally Posted by amateur

Interesting to see the first-person perspective used as a female protagonist - especially since your girls have a habit of going out and acquiring whatever phlebotinum they need to make their changes.

Glad you like it. The first-person female made it a lot more fun to write, and huh, they DO usually find a way to abuse whatever growth mechanic I'm using, don't they? Fancy that.

[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.

[Expansionist]

What a way to leave it! XD Curse you and your cliffhanger. I didn't want that chapter to end. This is fantastic, I cannot wait until Saturday!

[pseudoclever]

Originally Posted by slicer15201

What a way to leave it! XD Curse you and your cliffhanger. I didn't want that chapter to end. This is fantastic, I cannot wait until Saturday!

Yeaaah that's kind of what I do around here. But good news: you DON'T have to wait until Saturday.

[pseudoclever]

3.

Three seconds in, I could tell this spurt was going to be a big one.

Before, my growth had come at a smooth, metered pace. This time it was jagged, unpredictable. In a flash I shot up two inches, so fast that I had to fight off a sudden wave of vertigo.

Then for five whole seconds, nothing.

Then a long, sweltering swell that made me weak in the knees, filling my growing body with molten pleasure until I felt I would burst.

A short break, then four quick, jaw-rattling bursts of maybe a half-inch each.

During all of this my breasts, already too large for my frame, were still growing themselves. And even as fast as I was expanding, they were growing much, MUCH faster. I'd give you a letter of the alphabet, but at this point who cared? They were freaking enormous, and felt sooo good against my chest. It was awhile before I realized that it was MY hands that were touching them. Rubbing, squeezing, stroking, while I stood there, whimpering with pleasure, wondering how long I could do this without losing it.

And by the way, my tits weren't the ONLY part of me doing its own bit of growing. Apart from just getting curvier, I could feel myself becoming stronger with each and every inch I gained. My body was slowly being covered by a thick, sexy skeen of muscle. Don't think of the cover of one of those women's fitness magazines – gross-looking girls with biceps bigger than their boobs. For me it was more an accent, a complimentary feature. It added a whole new layer of beauty to my already stunning appearance. And even as fit and toned as I was starting to get, I could tell that I was becoming a lot stronger than I looked.

It was about then that, above the fog of ecstasy, I became aware of a strange low-pitched creaking noise coming from the vicinity of my chest. After a moment I realized what it was – the straining fabric of my over-stressed workout shirt. Sized to hold a five foot nothing titless wonder, the thing was completely out of its league with me. A tiny tear had appeared along the seam under my left armpit, and when I looked, I found a matching one beneath my right.

I liked that shirt, I really did. But sometimes, we must say goodbye to the things we've outgrown. Still massaging my ever-swelling breasts, I concentrated. 'Bigger! Come on, BIGGER!' I thought, silently urging my growth on, willing it to happen faster. I don't know if the whole “power of positive thinking” thing did any good, but one way or another, I got what I wanted. After only a few seconds my body spasmed upward again, this time in the biggest spurt yet, and the shirt ripped open down both sides. Laughing, I flicked its remnants away with an easy swipe of my wrist.

And now I stood topless, my ample bosom at long last revealed in all its glory.

Timothy seemed to be a fan.

My pants, now, were a different matter. They weren't tearing at all, but simply bulging out of shape. The stubborn things were sticking to my growing body like a lavender-shaded coat of paint. I was getting so big that they were starting to cut off my circulation, and the super strong spandex material showed no signs of giving up. Realizing I'd have to work this out myself or be crushed by my own pants, I reached down, grabbed their waistband with both hands.

I pulled. They stretched. I strained harder, but still they resisted. But with each passing second I was getting bigger, stronger. I waited two long seconds, feeling my body expand and swell, and then exerted my full force. My arms shook. My pulse pounded. For a moment I thought I wouldn't be able to do it.

But then the exertion seemed to feed my growth, accelerate it. And with a sound like an unraveling roll of duct tape, my pants finally split open.

Panting, my face hot and beaded with sweat, I turned to meet Timothy's gaze. I was still spasming upward at a frightening rate, but for now at least I remained an inch or two shorter than his six foot one. He was looking at me, his expression not fear but appreciation, and more than a little lust. The feeling was mutual, trust me. As if I didn't already have enough fuel in my libido tank, that last little feat of strength had pushed my motor past high gear, and into overdrive.

Two quick steps covered the distance between us. We did not have a typical first kiss. No chaste front porch peck on the cheek, or will-he-won't-he guessing until the very last moment. No. Our first kiss was more like a hot cauldron of oil left too long on the fire, one that has boiled higher, and higher, until at last it spills out onto the ground, consuming everything around it. His lips were wet and warm, his tongue a velvet ribbon in my mouth. Hands touched me, caressed every place I wanted to be caressed, even as mine did the same to him.

And all the while I could feel myself swelling against him, getting bigger, and BIGGER! I was reaching up to kiss him, just a bit. Less. A punctuated pulse of growth found us the same height, and then I was leaning down to meet him, making out with someone smaller than me for the first time in my life. Second by wonderful second I continued to outgrow him, and the bigger I became, the more it fanned the out-of-control fires of our passion.

At long last my growth slowed, sputtered, stopped. And gradually we began to cool down, until we were simply holding each other, my fully naked body against his fully clothed one. We still kissed, off and on, but the desperation had subsided. Now it was soft, slow, and somehow much more intimate.

After a long while, I broke the silence. “Too much?” I spoke the words quietly, looking down into his eyes, genuinely concerned with the answer. See, it had always been my plan to grow enough to pique his interest, make myself more visible, if you will, but NOT so much that I'd tower over him. But he'd goaded me into drinking quite a bit of the elixir, and now, the best I could judge, I was two or three inches taller than him. And remember, he was pretty big in his own right. Men can be weird about that sort of thing, you know? They like to be the big, burly protector, and girls that are taller than them tend to make them feel inadequate.

I have a minor in armchair psychology, did I say?

Timothy, however, just smiled. “Didn't I already tell you? I like big girls. Really, REALLY big girls. In fact, if I had my way about it, I'd want you to be even BIGGER than you are now.”

I raised one eyebrow. “You're not serious!” I started to say, but he cut me off before I could get more than the second word out. In the grand scheme of things it was a brief flare-up of the smoldering coals of our lust, though as flare-ups go, this one lasted quite awhile.

“Okay okay, I believe you!” I laughed, when speech was once again possible. “So then...question game, round two. Give me a number. Exactly HOW big do you want me?”

Timothy cocked one eye at me, his expression nervous, almost worried. “You...do you really...really want to know?”

Grinning evilly, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. One leg slid between his thighs, holding him in place. “I really, really do. And however big you want me, I promise I'll do it.” I leaned in, looming over him, making sure he was completely conscious of my already impressive size. “I mean it sweetie. As big as you want. Don't hold back now. Because tonight, Timothy,” I purred. “Wishes DO come true.”

[Chaos Echo]

...and now you've got me interested in Growth.

[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.”

[pseudoclever]

5.

I led Timothy out of the entryway, deeper into the women's locker room. I did this simply by turning and walking, walking in that way that we women can, with the little sway and roll of the hips. Given the fact that I had recently became a) exceptionally curvy, b) naked and c) enormous, Timothy basically had no choice but to follow. It was in his genes, for chrissake.

Now we were in the main changing area. There were a number of sinks and mirrors, a bank of shower stalls off in one corner, a sauna and weight machine. Wherever the walls were not lined by banks of tall, red lockers, they had bolted to them a sturdy, waxed wood bench. Timothy seemed briefly interested – this room WAS normally forbidden fruit to him, after all – but soon enough his gaze returned to the place where it belonged.

“So, a thought occurs.” I was tossing the now tiny bottle from hand to hand, looking at him with theatrical displeasure. “I've been standing here in my birthday suit for the better part of twenty minutes, and somehow YOU are still fully dressed. And let me tell you, it's COLD in here.” I lifted the drink to my lips, held it immobile there. “Therefore, I am not growing another INCH until you show me some skin, little man.”

Timothy laughed. “How could I argue with THAT? But ah, how about this. Let's make it interesting, shall we?” He smirked up at me, a scheming look in his eyes. “How about...if as soon as I start taking off clothes, YOU start drinking. That way, by the time I'm finished....” He trailed off, shrugged.

I scowled, was about to tell him that I was the one who called the shots around here, reconsidered. I mean it was obvious how he was planning to exploit this little arrangement. But come to think of it, I didn't mind the end result so much. Besides, as much as I was enjoying my dominate position, it might be fun to let him have the illusion of control for a little while. That way, it would be all the sweeter when I snatched it away from him.

“Very well, you've got a deal,” I growled, letting him hear the petulance in my voice. “So. Quit stalling. And strip.”

He was already untying his shoes. “Drink!” he called back, laughing.

And I did.

Had I every really thought the elixir was disgusting? Suddenly, it had become absolutely delicious! Again and again I swallowed, savoring every last drop. From the corner of my eye I could see Timothy pretending to struggle with his laces – just as I knew he would. By the time he had his first shoe figured out, the hot pins and needles were already spreading. Before he removed the second, my body had begun to vibrate with pleasure, like the plucked string of some well-tuned instrument. And then, with all the stubborn resistance and gathering momentum of a boulder being pushed down a hill, I started to grow.

Someplace far below, a very small man was slowly removing his socks. I watched, still drinking, as the world once again began to draw in around me. And now my growth seemed to be gathering speed. I was two inches taller...four. Six. Through the humming, shaking ecstasy of my body getting bigger, I was aware of the other wonderful changes that were happening to me. My breasts were once again swelling up. I was becoming stronger, more muscular than ever. The proportions of my body were passing beyond 'ideal' and into the realm of 'impossible.'

But all of this was secondary to the stretching, pulling, yawing sensation of my growth. God, if only I could make you UNDERSTAND how it felt, getting bigger, inch by indescribable inch! The surge of power...the riptide of gratification coursing from the tips of my toes to the top of my head...and of course, the knowledge that since I was even now drinking my growth elixir, just how much BIGGER I was going to get before it was all through.

At long, long last Timothy took a grip on his boxers and, giving me a smug smile of satisfaction, sl-o-w-ly pulled them down to his ankles. Yeah, I had been right to have the hots for this guy: he was freaking GORGEOUS. The sweat from his workout (and my work-over) still clung to him, glistened in the low light, played off his well-defined muscles, his perfect six pack...and...heh, another part of him too.

Hm, thinking...artful euphemisms.... Well, let's just say he had enough 'downstairs' that, had I still been my normal size, I might have had cause to be afraid.

But the time when I was anything CLOSE to normal was way back in the yesteryear of thirty minutes ago, when I had been more than a head shorter than Timothy. Now, still in mid spurt, I was already almost three feet taller than he was. His length didn't look near so intimidating.

I was just becoming big enough to see over the top of the nearest bank of lockers, meaning that I'd already grown more than a foot from this giant dose of elixir. Timothy was maybe two thirds my size (and that fraction was still falling rapidly.) Because of how ridiculously long my legs had become compared to the rest of my body, this was only tall enough for him to come up maybe six inches higher than my belly-button.

“Wow Allison...you're really...wow.” He looked me up and down, cleared his throat, stuttered a few nonsense words. “Sorry, it's just...I don't have words. You're off the charts, do you know that?”

“Of course I do,” I told him, smirking at him through parted lips. “Even if I had no other way of telling, I could have figured it out by the way your little, ah, dousing rod keeps pointing at me.” I laughed, swelling larger with each chuckle, and blew a kiss at the bit of iron between his thighs.

“Look, I know you're like nine feet tall and everything...but come on, don't call it 'little.'” He frowned up at me plaintively, and I had to fight to keep from laughing again. “Guys are sensitive about that kind of thing. Besides, I've still got everything I need to handle you, no matter HOW big you get.”

As if in response to his words, my body gave a short tremor, suddenly grew five big inches in a single spurt. Enough to set him eye to eye with my navel.

Timothy winced.

“Still think you can handle me?” I teased, tossing my silky black hair over my shoulder. I stood, legs spread, hands on hips, in a posture that I meant to be both jaw-droppingly sexy and just a little bit frightening. “Talk is cheap, shorty. So why don't you put aside the bravado, and just show me what you've got.”

Before I even had time to register his movement he was on me. Kissing, nibbling, his lips pressing into the tender area between my belly-button and pelvic bone. “Oh, feisty, are we?” I laughed, looking straight down at the top of his head. Timothy ignored me, began to run his three largest fingers along the arch curve of my inner thigh. His touch was already starting to make me weak in the knees. And I especially loved the way his tiny bites and kisses were steadily drawing down toward the base of my stomach as I continued to grow larger.

Then without warning, he attacked.

The heel of his hand suddenly pressed firmly against the soft, gooey spot were my legs came together. I gasped, took a staggering step backwards, caught myself. It had only been fifteen seconds since the little guy started, and already I was fucking DRENCHED! Taking advantage of this, Timothy began to rock his hand back and forth along the cleft of my womanhood, spreading my juices, letting them pour out onto his fingers.

His tiny hand was so delicate, so gentle...it was less like he was trying to get me off, more as though he was urging me on. Fingers, as soft and smooth as an artist's brush, slowly worked me. They touched, pulled back, touched again...and always, so light that it made me want to scream in frustration.

Do you know how when some people roast their marsh mellows, they like to put them JUST close enough to the fire for them to turn golden brown, become crispy...and how those of us who are NORMAL just catch the damn things on fire, then blow them out when they're done? Right then, all I wanted was for Timothy to thrust me into the crackling flames, let me burn.

On the plus side, the level of anticipation he had me at seemed to be feeding my growth. There were no punctuated bursts now. Instead Timothy was making me swell constantly, his feather touch pushing me frighteningly, dizzyingly larger. As much as I loved to be getting so big...it wasn't worth it! I was moaning at the top of my lungs, my voice at one moment a high, squeaky alto, the next a deep, rumbling bass.

The endless, unfulfilling teasing. The buzzing ache of my growth, more a question to be answered than a solution. I felt like the two sources of half-pleasure would split me in two. And no matter how loud I cried, no matter how big I grew, he never increased the pressure. He never let me have the orgasm that my growing body so desperately needed.

Just when I thought I might go mad, actually go mad, I felt a sharp, reverberating impact against the top of my head. I cried out in equal parts pain and surprise, doubling over, nearly slamming my chest into the bridge of Timothy's nose.

“Woah, hey...what happened?” he asked, taking a step back. “Are you okay?”

“I...I'm fine,” I answered, bending at the knee to give myself a little more head room. I had, of course, grown myself straight into the ceiling. With all the 'fun' I was having, I'd completely lost track of how big I had become! Or the fact that this room wasn't meant to hold anyone my size.

My transformation seemed to have come to an end, but I have to say I was pretty impressed by the results. I was at least ten feet tall now, big enough that Timothy was barely eye level to the hairless swell of my sex. He looked pretty tiny, but what really struck me was not how short he appeared. It was more...I'm not sure how to say it...slight? Is that the word? Shoulder to shoulder, the width of his body was little more than half that of mine. I was also much...well, no other way to say it...thicker. Combined with my new-found strength, this virtually guaranteed that I could throw him around like a rag doll, if I had any desire to do so.

But of course, my ideas of what to do with him lay in other, shall we say more friendly directions. And that little bump to the noggin seemed to have knocked loose a few good ones.