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Appeasement by Terry Sinclair

Page history last edited by Rob Classact 12 years, 3 months ago


by Terry Sinclair


If I were to take a serious introspective look at my actions over the past several weeks, I'd have to conclude that all the events that I describe were essentially my fault. My fault for the initial experiments and my fault for the policy of appeasement that I adopted after things began to get out of control. It really wasn't Amber's fault in the slightest. Who knows what kind of hormonal changes go on in a brain once external stimuli are applied. Amber shouldn't be blamed for anything.

 Ah, Amber. She was a lovely little thing. She turned my head the first day she was sitting in my Physics class. I always notice the good looking ones first, but she was exquisite beyond my imaginations. So young, so petite, and so beautiful. A mere waif of a girl, thin, no more than five feet tall, and less than 90 lbs., a china doll in her delicateness. After talking with her for several days in the minutes before the bell rang, I ascertained that she was in fact a good two years younger than her typical classmate. That, in part, would explain her underdeveloped figure. Chalk it up to a brighter than average intelligence and the benefits of home schooling. And so here she was, kicking ass in class and setting the curve (and pissing the hell out of all the engineering majors to boot. All the more reason for me to be enraptured).

 I hope that she didn't sense anything out of the ordinary as the semester proceeded, and I always managed to find time to give her personal attention in her studies. The moments were intimate, yet innocent. A real pleasure for me and a real aid for her. It also gave her a forum to confide in me bits and pieces of her life, at home growing up, and now that she was away at 'the BIG U'. Apparently, she was VERY lonely in that regard, since she had only recently gotten a license, didn't have a car, was not really part of any peer group on campus, and (inexplicably in my mind) was having trouble getting dates. I'm no psychologist, but I've been around long enough to have gleaned a few chestnuts of helpful advice, which I was pleased enough to offer.

 'What do YOU think the problem is, Amber?' I asked.

 'I'm probably too young to be here, to be truthful, Dr. Jones,' she replied. 'I've seen the kind of girls who get dates around here. They're damn near falling out of themselves and…' She stopped and got a mortified look on her face. In truth, I knew why. Since day one she had always been the most proper young lady (again, good breeding, I suspect). Quite, shy, and certainly not taken to gutter or trash talking. And yet here she was, being, for her, about as forward as she'd ever been in her life. I suppose the level of comfort that she felt with me really showed, because she finally did volunteer, 'If only I was a little bigger HERE (indicating her chest), I'd probably get more dates.'

 It was my instinct to play the parent. 'Are those really the type of guys that you're interested in, Amber?'

 'No, not really… Of course not. I'd just feel a little better about ME, is all. They say adolescent girls have horrible self-images. I'm bright enough to know it's society's artifact, but not enough in control of my own emotions to really cast it aside.'

 I did ache for her. I wanted to help her. She was just too sweet not to. And so I made my first fateful offer. 'I may have a solution for you, if you're willing to try something experimental.' Her ears perked up. 'Come with me.' I led her back into my labs, past the outer offices where my grad students worked, and back into my own private digs. She was (rightfully) a little hesitant to go back there, but I coaxed her on. I'll spare the reader the details of our conversation to follow, but my little vixen stood in my lab wide-eyed as I showed and explained to her all the principles behind my little matter expanding device.

 (Parenthetically, it had always been my hope to make a fortune in the agricultural field, then in petro-chemicals. But recently, biological applications had swayed my interest. Imagine, hogs the size of bulls, cattle the size of elephants. The American culture's infatuation with meat and meat by-products was going to make me a wealthy man.)

 'Could this really work for me?' she asked expectantly, a hopeful gleam in her eye. I painstakingly explained the risks, informed her that she'd be my first human subject, and tried to downplay expectations. But somewhere between the potential personal gain, and a genuine desire to help me with a key component of my research, she wasn't to be denied. So, between the two super conducting magnets she hopped, positioned herself as I directed, held up her arms, crossed her fingers, and gave me a smile that said 'Thanks, and don't worry.' I, for my part, stood at the controls, my hands shaking with anticipation. This was poor science, I knew it. Actually, it bordered on criminal, and certainly was grounds for a revocation of my tenure. But the possible gains for myself, my project, and frankly for my student, whom I had an increasing fondness for, allayed any of my more sensible inhibitions. I threw the 'ON' switch, and began to pump neutrinos into my little waif.  Slowly and steadily my hand turned the rheostat to a lower and lower resistance. More and more current surged through the magnets. The neutrino flux increased, and finally came the signs of progress. There was a clear, undeniable, expansion going on before me. My eyes remained transfixed on it, while other 'improvements' escaped my gaze. After a minute or so, I snapped myself out of my stupor, and quickly shut all power down. The whining of the electronics, nearly a din the moment before, faded to a whisper. Amber emerged from between the two magnets and stood before me. She could tell from my expression that the procedure had been effective, but wanted to do her own assessment. She asked for a mirror, and I lamely pointed toward the bathroom. At that moment I couldn't have spoken if my life depended on it. She at first sprinted in that direction, until a stumble over feet and legs longer than she was expecting gave her pause. She regained her balance and dignity, and strolled lithely up to the mirror. The visage that stared back at her was stunning. I noted the improvements as she did too. Her hair was about 3 inches longer than it had been mere minutes before…now hanging well past her shoulders. The nails on her hands had grown as well…now each over an inch long and begging for an exquisite manicure. But the most incredible effects of my machine were what it had done to her height and mass. The effect was obvious, the way her jeans had ridden up on her legs a good 3 inches, the way her blouse had become untucked, and the way the front buttons were bowing out, strained to the breaking point, trying to contain a chest that had never stressed it before.

 Being a scientist, I felt the impulse to take a few quantitative measurements. So out came the meter stick, and the measurement. 162 cm. I did a quick conversion in my head. 'How tall do you think you are?' I asked.

 'Five feet, even,' she reminded me.

 'Well, I have some interesting news for you. What if I told you you're now 5'4'?' She wanted to feign surprise, but the other physical clues were too obvious to both of us for her to even try to be coy. Instead she blushed out of pleasure. We spent the next few minutes assessing the full physical difference the treatment had made: an extra 8 kg of mass (nearly a 20 pound increase in weight), and a full 3 inches of bust increase (she herself discreetly determined that.) All in all, she was EXTREMELY pleased with the results, thanked me over and over till I was embarrassed, picked up her books, and went virtually skipping out of my lab like, well frankly, a giddy school girl. I for my part managed to hold my enthusiasm and demeanor in check until she was gone. And then I too started hooting and hollering, like I'd just won the Super Bowl. Oh, yes…I was going to be a VERY wealthy man.

 I spent the following week with my head swimming with all the possibilities this treatment could uncover. Scientists generally have blinders on when it comes to uses for their inventions. Nobel thought dynamite would be a god-send to mankind, and was horrified by the uses it was originally put to. I, for my part, could only think of the benefits that mass enhancement would bring. It never occurred to me that there may be some dark options that could arise, much less the possibilities that unexpected side-effects might occur. After all, my precious Amber had come through intact.

 My precious Amber. She had been uncharacteristically absent for the first two class sessions that week. It wasn't until Friday that I finally saw her again. She strolled into my class, and commanded my vision. She was wearing her hair in a beautifully full style, and her choice of wardrobe was eye-popping as well. The short black skirt with black stockings is what really caught my eye. That and the blouse which exposed her midriff. She took her normal spot in the front of lecture, and continued to distract me the entire hour by her mere presence. At the end of the class, she came forward.

 'Good,' I said. 'I wanted to talk to you. You're going to have to get notes for the days you missed.'

 'I wanted to talk to you, too, Dr. Jones. In private, if we could.' This wasn't untypical of students when they had personal matters to discuss, but it WAS untypical of Amber, who normally wouldn't be caught dead alone with someone in a compromising position. But I motioned her to my office. As soon as the door was closed, she blurted out 'I want another treatment!'

 'You what?!?' was my unguarded reply. 'I don't think…'

 'Look, Dr. Jones,' she explained. 'Ever since last week, wonderful things have been happening to me. I feel more confident than ever. I seem to be more popular with people, particularly guys. I think that this has been the most positive thing I've ever done, and I think that just a little more help from you will really help my chances of being a total success at this university. You've always helped me so far. Now that you can give me this ultimate step up, would you?'

 My decision was based on this heartfelt appeal. It defied every bit of good sense, sound principle, and legal consideration I generally operated under. But the opportunity to push the limits of my technique, plus the tremendous effect it'd have on my beautiful student, whom I must admit I was increasingly attracted to, blurred those inhibitions, and I consented to a second go around. We scheduled time together for that evening, and at the appointed hour, Amber returned, wearing a new set of baggy clothing.

 'This is something for me to grow into,' she said with a lusty smile.

 Under my breath, I echoed 'It'd be my pleasure.' And with that I threw my start switch. The magnetic flux hit her body again, and her head flung back in reflex. Her mouth fell open in a pose reminiscent of the abandonment to pleasure that those in the throws of passion allow themselves. And then as the flux surged, her head bowed back down, and a smile returned to her mouth, as her breathing increased. And the flux did its job, pumping neutrinos into her still slight frame, building it up and out.

 She grew.

 In every way, in every sensuous direction, with every breath. She'd breathe in and her chest would expand. She'd exhale, but it'd remain as full as it had just been. Another breath, and another expansion. My own heart pounded furiously while I watched the process. My hands grew weak and shaky as I was filled with a school boy's excitement. And she slowly, but steadily filled the clothes to their capacity and beyond. Inch upon inch was added to her size, both upward and outward. 5'5'. 5'6'. 5'7'. I became fully aroused. 5'8', 5'9', and I still let the process continue, mesmerized.

She herself made no overture for me to end the experiment, but instead reveled in the narcotic effects it seemed to have. Finally, when she hit 5'10', and the clothes that she brought strained under her bulk, I finally halted the procedure. The whine died down, and she stepped off the target platform, each graceful leg taking a full stride. Her breasts overflowed even the bulky shirt she had on, and she exuded the sex appeal of the most ravishing supermodels in the business. My heart continued to pound and my breathing was shallow while I waited for her first response. Even before she could assess the full extent of this dramatic change, she could sense their effect. She approached me seductively, placed her hand gently under my chin and lightly kissed my cheek with her soft lips. No need for me to bend, no need for her to raise en point. And then a subtle move toward my ear, and a whispered voice saying 'Thank you, so much,' and then she nearly floated out the door, and was gone in a wisp. I, on the other hand, remained frozen in place, paralyzed by delight. I was the Creator!   All that weekend my thoughts turned consistently to HER. I imagined what she might be doing. Going to bars around campus (heavens, she looked 22 now), getting hit on, over and over. Discriminating (or not) which guy was going to get the first crack ever at her. Letting him take her back to his dorm, and giving him the ride of a lifetime. My daydreams were wild and provocative. I hoped that she was behaving herself, and then secretly desired her to be a sexual dynamo. I was horribly conflicted and resolved Monday to offer her council, mostly to get the sordid details.  However, Monday came, and again, no sign of Amber.

Wednesday's class was the same. I was near a nervous breakdown. Between watching a brilliant student succumb to the wastefulness that befalls so many youngsters too immature to handle the stresses of college and needing to find out if my precious angel had really turned to the dark side, I was tempted to look up her dorm room in the student directory. But for a change, common sense took ahold of me, and I bided my time, waiting for her return.  

Again, as before, that Friday she finally appeared. Her entrance was that of royality. She appeared at the top of the lecture hall just as I started my instruction. I myself was caught off guard, and paused, and then every pair of male eyes in the place, including my own, followed her down the stairs to her seat. It's not every physics student who shows up to class wearing a cocktail dress and high heels. High heels? Take a frame that was already 5'10' and pump it up to and even 6'0'. Any fashion designer would have a fit. But I didn't mind. Nor did 72 sex starved 18 and 19 year old physics geeks. It was only my years of experience that got me through THAT particular lecture, and I'm sure that if anyone were paying close attention, they'd have noticed that I spent the majority of my time lecturing to the one seat occupied by my dear Amber, with occasionally nods to the token throngs in the remainder of the gallery.  

I was going to beckon her after class, but as all the other students dismissed, she remained seated. I decided to play it nonchalantly.

'Miss Burke?' I queried.  

'I can explain entirely,' she offered, and then waited to see if her bait was taken.  

So much for nonchalant. 'Listen, Amber. I was happy to help you with your problem, but the assumption that I made was that it wouldn't come at the expense of your studies. Now I look like an idiot, among other unsavory euphemisms, for allowing this to proceed.'  

'Can I say something?' she pleaded. I nodded a disgruntled okay and she started in. 'I've just had the most incredible week of my life! I've been the center of attention every where I went. I felt confident. I was witty. I was charming. I had all kinds of offers for all kinds of things.' At this I summoned up my most fatherly look of consternation. 'Oh, I didn't do anything. I really am saving myself. But listen…a guy gave me his card. He's auditioning models! He wants to see me do some runway work! Do you know what kind of opportunity this could be?'  

'You can't really tell me that you're going to give up a career in engineering in order to be a model are you?!?' I scolded.  But she shot back, 'Dr. Jones, I can always come back to finish my degree, and I will, I'm sure of it. But there's only a limited amount of time that I could pursue a career like this. Not to mention the opportunity to save up a decent amount of money to pay for all of it, and other things.'  

'I don't condone this, not for a second. I think you need to get back in this class. If you start coming faithfully again, I'm sure you could still eke out an 'A' if you're willing to really apply yourself.'  

'That's another thing, Dr. Jones.' The bombshell fell: 'I came here today to tell you I dropped this class. All of them, as a matter of fact.' She should have just brought a knife along instead. She could have gouged out my heart; it would have been less painful. I turned in disgust. At that she sensed that I was wounded, and so stood and strode toward me. 'Please wait. There's something I need from you…need badly.' I turned to find her right upon me.  'And what, Amber, is that?' I said, mustering as much sarcasm as I could in the face of otherwise overwhelming beauty.  

Her response almost made my heart stop. 'I want you to make me grow again,' she said. The words almost echoed in my ear. 'I want to be bigger.'  

This girl had done nothing for me all semester that hadn't torn my psyche in two. And now more than ever, I was conflicted beyond description. Here was an opportunity to push the female frame to it's absolute limits, and yet continue in the ruin of one of the most promising students I'd ever had. 'Why would you possibly ask me to do this for you? You're already nearly a foot taller than you were a month ago. And you've dropped my class. This has only been for the worst, as I see it. I absolutely refuse to be part of this any more.'  

'But Dr. Jones,' she pleaded. 'Right now, I'm tall for a woman, but I'm barely average for a model. How can I make a stunning impact if I don't have something absolutely unique about myself? You could give that to me. Right here, right now. You could make me the biggest success the modeling industry has ever seen!' She could tell in my countenance that I was still hesitating, and so she pulled out her trump card. It was a play that I hadn't anticipated, and one that I couldn't resist, even if I'd known it was coming. She reached for me, one hand on my waist, and the other flung over my shoulder. She began by massaging the back of my head, and then pulled me close to her. I could feel her breasts pressing ponderously against my chest, and with her sultry lips, now inches from mine, she whispered, 'Please Alan. Make me bigger.' And then proceeded to plant upon my dry, paralyzed lips the most fantastic, moist, and full-bodied kiss I'd ever received.  

As she pulled away, I mustered all the energy I could and asked 'I thought you were saving yourself?'  

Her response shoved the final nail into the coffin burying my self-control. 'I did.' And with that, a torrent of passion washed over me, and I lost myself into her embrace. After she had me totally enraptured, she led me by the hand into my workroom. Twice before had made her an expert. All she needed from me was to start and stop my glorious machine.  

And start it I did, with a vengeance. Unlike the first two times, where the newness and uncertainty of the process caught her off guard, this time Amber was free to revel in the process. As the neutrinos pumped around, through and into her body, she felt free to marvel at their work. Her hands ran sleekly down her side, as though she was pushing herself up. The effect was eerily accurate. I then watched as she massaged her sides, and then ran her hands up to cup her swelling breasts. The look on her face was not one of innocence, nor wonderment, nor surprise, but out and out devilment as this body of hers grew to sin. Up past six feet she rose, and nodded to me to keep things going. Her dress rode up her legs, and past her crotch to reveal a pair of silken panties underneath. Following my gaze, which was fixed directly on them, she saw them as well, but made no move to be discreet. And still my beloved grew on. Up another two inches, and was now rivaling me in height. I did some quick soul searching for how I'd react to a woman taller than myself, and decided that I was comfortable enough to let it continue.

She for her part, was bound and determined to get my eyes off her crotch, and so stood for me arms akimbo, and thrust out her chest. Her two magnificent breasts bounded over the neckline of her dress, the nipples barely hidden by material struggling to keep her modest. She gave the slightest tug downward on her hem line, and voila! Out poked her tits (pardon my French) in all their glory, with perfectly round areolas, and dime sized nipples. Yes, my eyes did come off her crotch. All Amber could do was smile ear to ear as she watched my changing reactions.  

Finally, with this budding Amazon now nearly 6'6', I shut down the machine. As the hum of the magnets subsided, she stuck out her lower lip in a mock of sadness that her fun for the day had ended. She strode over to me and, for the first time looking down on her benefactor, slid her arms around my neck, and drew me close.

'You've done wonderfully, Alan. I'm so pleased.' She leaned over and planted a kiss on my forehead, in what was a demeaning gesture, frankly, and turned to go. I was standing there, mostly in amazement as she left me with these words…'Don't worry, lover. I'll be back real soon.' She licked her lips, blew me another kiss, and smiled widely. It was then that I was struck by exactly how much my machine was actually beginning to alter my dear little Amber. After all, it's not too many super models that also possess a pair of fangs.

Now let me explain exactly what I'm implying here. This was nothing like 'Buffy' or anything resembling the occult. But I think that the PROCESS may have induced some latent physiological changes that are present in all our genetic code. Amber may have been partially reverting to a time when our ancestors needed more than a large brain and a good arm to hunt. Besides, she made them look sexy. There was a sleekness about her, like a tigress. She even made a mock growl, and winked at me. Then, adjusting her grossly too small dress to whatever degree of modesty was left in it, she again turned her back and strode out to her destiny, or so I thought.

I parked myself in my oversized office chair, and sat pondering all the events of the past several weeks, wondering if things had at this point, gone a little too far. Had I given in to Amber's desires too readily. Was she now bordering on freakish? There was no denying that she was ravishingly beautiful. But at six and a half feet tall, she was certainly MORE than just a fine specimen of womanhood. She was in the upper one hundreth of one percent of the population in terms of body size. No. It had to end at this. I wasn't even sure when I might see her again. Never matter. I decided to take it upon myself to disassemble my machine for the time being, and ride out the semester quietly, and let her get very far away before I fired things up again. And no more human experiments for a long, long time, if ever. At least, that was my plan. I was no more than half an hour into dismantling things when there was some frantic knocking at my door. It was late enough into the evening that I was surprised by this. 'Who is it?' I called through the door. In a broken and shaken voice, Amber answered. I quickly undid the dead bolt and let her in.  

Her appearance shocked the hell out of me. Her hair was disheveled. Her dress, a new one that had made overtures to covering her womanly frame, was in tatters. The same went for her nylons. I made out the unmistakable signals of the beginnings of a bruise on her cheek. She was breathing heavily, gulping down mouthfuls of air with each inhale. As I let her inside, she slid around the door, and pushed it closed with her back. She then stared with glossy eyes at me, bit her lip, and then crumbled to the floor. Her dress rode up her torso as she collapsed, but I tried not to let the fact that she was wearing no panties distract me. Instead, I crouched by her, picked up her hand, and held it, and then, as sensitively as I could, urged, 'Amber, tell me what happened.'  

She breathed heavily for a moment, and then steadied herself and said, matter-of-factly, 'I was raped.'  

I wasn't surprised. It was exactly what I expected to hear; it was precisely what I assumed had happened. But still the words themselves had a disturbing effect on me. My grip, no longer subtle, tightened on her hand subconsciously. My countenance change to one of stark resolve. I stood and approached my desk, slid open a draw, and reached underneath to remove my handgun which I'd kept stored there since the day I bought it.  

Amber reacted immediately. Disregarding her own situation, she jumped up and grabbed my wrist. 'No Alan! That's not what I had in mind. I don't want you to get involved.'  

'I'm already involved. I put you in this situation.:  

'My dearest, I love everything that you've done for me. None of this is you're fault. But you can do something to make it better.' I wanted to know what. 'You can help ME make the situation right.'  

'What exactly did you have in mind?' I inquired.  

'I'll deal with the guy. But I need you to give me the power I need to make sure he can never do this to anyone ever again. I can't do it yet. But if you were to…' Her voice trailed off, but her eyes spoke volumes. Without another word being spoken, we went, hand in hand into my lab. When she saw the disassembled magnets, her mouth went agape, but I silently held up my hand to allay her concerns. Not a word passed between us as I replaced every circuit, reconnected every relay. Nothing was said as I graciously escorted her to the target platform, cavalierly extending a hand up as she mounted it. And not a sound was made, save the whir of the device as I fired it up yet again, yet again despite my resolve to the contrary, and continued to grow my creation. The dress, already tattered, was torn completely asunder, and fell limply to the ground.

Amber's head rolled around her shoulders and her hands flexed and contracted, her back arched. Every move she made was as if I was making fierce and passionate love to her, and I began to realize that, in essence, I was. This had always been an illicit love affair, even when it was only a fantasy in my head. And now, as the seconds passed, I became ever more painfully aware that I would be tremendously inadequate in reality as well. No, this, right here, right now, was my most effective way of making love to this woman, and I was going rock her world. I cranked the power up as far as it would go. Neutrino flux was at a maximum. Her body spasmed and shook as if being rocked by violent orgasms, and her growth continued. Each tremor was accompanied by a clear and dramatic size increase, and when they subsided, she opened her eyes to look at me. Her eyes. They were piercing and focused, nearly glowing. Her fingers. Each capped with a nail long, sleek, and pointed, like claws. Her ears. Tapered and hollowed, like a fox. And her teeth. Like they could rip the flesh off of a person in a single, last heartbeat. And she was beautiful. Fully naked, fully developed, the single most fantastic creation that had ever graced this planet. And at over 12 feet in height, my most erotic dream. She descended from the platform and stood hovering over me.  

'Am I beautiful?' she asked, in a timbre lower than my own.  

'Like no woman I've ever known,' I replied honestly. This seemed to please her to know end.  

'You can't possibly imagine how alive I feel right now,' she said. 'How alert, how invigorated. I feel like nothing and no one could stop me now.' God, how right she was. She knelt on one knee, and with arms five feet long, engulfed me and pulled me to her breast. 'I owe you everything, Alan. You've given me everything my heart has desired. You and I will be together, forever, very soon. I promise. But right now, I've got a little agenda that needs to be taken care of.'

She stood, and scowled a big, toothy scowl. 'Payback's a bitch.'

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