At the Gym [story]

[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.