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Dream Lover by Masquered

Page history last edited by Rob Classact 13 years, 11 months ago

Dream Lover

by Masquered

 

I scanned the room again. It was looking like it wasn't going to be a fruitful night -- by this hour the bar was mostly empty, and the few women who were still there were either unappealing or attached. I resigned myself to the idea of leaving alone, though I didn't feel like leaving just yet. One more beer, I thought.

 

While I waited for the pint to be drawn, my eye fell on a man sitting alone at the other end of the bar. I recognized him as one of the regulars; I didn't come here all that often, but every time I did, I'd see him, always alone. His manner always suggested he was looking for someone, but I never saw him approach anyone; and the few times I'd seen him approached by women, even attractive ones, he'd brush them away and go back to looking. I wondered what his story was.

 

What the hell. I took my beer and joined him on the other side of the room. "Can I ask you something?" I said. "I've seen you here before. Are you looking for someone in particular?"

 

He glanced at me in irritation, his gaze quickly returning to the door. "I am, actually."

 

"You want to talk about it?"

 

He ignored me for a moment, then sighed and looked at his watch. "She's not coming tonight, anyway," he muttered. To me, he said, "Why not. You got anywhere to be anytime soon?"

 

I shrugged. "Not particularly."

 

He nodded. "I'm looking for a woman I met here once before, a long time ago. She was ... I don't know where to begin. I've never met anyone else like her and I know I never will again."

 

"She was your dream girl, huh?"

 

He gave me a look I couldn't read. "Funny you should say that. Yeah. Yeah, she was. I didn't even get her name; I just know that no other woman's going to be enough for me now. After the night I spent with her ... I mean, the things she could do ..." He smiled with one side of his mouth. "Do you have an open mind?"

 

Um. "You mean, like, sexually?"

 

"I was thinking supernaturally, but yeah, that too. You really want to hear about it?"

 

Now I was starting to wonder if he was all there. But hey, in for a penny ... "Sure, I'm game."

 

He nodded, took a drink and began.

 

* * *

 

It was here that I met her -- I mean, I was sitting at this same stool. She came and sat down beside me, ordered a drink. I asked her some question, I don't even remember now. We got to talking. We really hit it off. It must have been a couple of hours passed. We'd had a few drinks, it wasn't getting that late yet; we decided to go outside and have a walk.

 

I'm getting ahead of myself. I should describe her.

 

She was pretty, not a knockout, but you'd give her a second or third look. Bright eyes, dark wavy hair to her shoulders. Slim build. Short, about five-two. White cotton shirt, shorts. She was wearing flat sandals -- I have reason to remember that.

 

So the two of us were walking, we wound up down along the beach. It was a beautiful night -- clear sky, full moon, plenty of light and hardly anyone else around. Pretty soon we were holding hands. A few minutes later we were kissing. Like I said, we'd had a few drinks, and it didn't seem particularly strange when she broke off and asked me what I thought was sexy.

 

"You," I said, and kissed her again.

 

She kissed me back. "No," she says, "I mean -- humor me. Physically, what attracts you? Like, are you a boob man, an ass man...?"

 

I just smiled and shook my head. "Why are you asking?"

 

She gives me this half-mischievous, half-secret smile. "Well, look at my chest, for instance," she said, kind of posing. I did, gladly. Nice, too, the shape in the white shirt in the moonlight. I told you she had a slim build, and she did, but -- she goes on, in this mock-serious tone, "I understand that some men are known to appreciate large breasts. What about you? Would you like it if I were bigger?" And I swear to God, as I stood there looking at them, her breasts grew. I was giving them my full attention, and I can tell you, I watched them get bigger. New lines of stress appeared in her shirt. She turned to show her profile, and my mouth got dry as I watched her swell.

 

"Or my legs," she went on, as if nothing had happened. "Are you a leg man? Would you like it if my legs were a little muscular? If they were longer?" Now, I'd been checking out her legs back in the bar, and they were nice enough but nothing spectacular. But now they were exactly what she said, they were the legs of an athlete, and as I watched, they stretched out, they pushed her pelvis higher, and she stepped back toward me and put her arms around my neck and gave me the most smoldering kiss.

 

I was too shocked to fully appreciate it. She pulled back, and her half-smile had turned into an absolute shit-eating grin. I can't imagine what my face must have looked like. Yes, we'd been drinking, but not all that much, and I started to wonder if she'd put something else into my drink. "This is impossible," is the first intelligible thing I managed to say.

 

"Yes," she agreed. "Completely impossible. This whole thing is a dream. It has to be. So what's your dream? What do you want me to be? What would you change" -- she'd started unbuttoning my shirt and planting kisses on my neck and chest -- "if I could be" -- kiss -- "any" -- kiss -- "thing" -- kiss -- "you" -- kiss -- "like?"

 

I took a deep breath, let it out, and decided the hell with it. Maybe this was a dream, maybe I'd gone insane, but I decided to enjoy it. "Can you be" -- I hesitated; it was still somehow hard to say out loud -- "taller?"

 

She turned her face back up to mine. "Taller, you say?" Her hands tightened on my lapels and she pulled against me, while her head slowly rose higher. "You want me taller?" It was like she was pulling herself up into the air by my shirt, but I had no doubt her feet were staying flat on the ground. "So you like tall women?" She stopped when her eyes were just a couple of inches below mine, putting her probably at five-eight. "What else do you like?"

 

Now it was my turn to smile. "Why stop there?"

 

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh!" Her head began to move upward again. Looking me directly in the eye, she breathed, "Tall women." She gave me a soft kiss, and kept growing, her rosebud mouth moving up past mine, higher, until it was right at my eye level. She ran her hands down my arms, planted them on her hips, and loomed over me playfully. "How's this?"

 

I took a step back to admire her. Her hair fluttered about her head in the sea breeze. Her clothes were really starting to be strained by her growing form, designed as they were for a woman a foot shorter. Her breasts, now still larger than she'd made them a moment earlier, stretched her shirt even tighter, pulling it up and out to expose a few inches of smooth midriff. Her shorts hugged her curves more tightly, with her spectacular legs stretching out from them to where her feet were firmly planted in the sand; she'd kicked off her sandals. I ran my gaze back up her body to meet her dancing eyes, and my grin matched hers.

 

I reached out my hands; she took them, and pulled me in closer. "This is good," I murmured between kisses, "but you could be so much more."

 

Her grin broadened again. "I could be."

 

"You were right about your breasts," I said, raising one hand to gently, gently stroke the curve of one, tightly confined by her overmatched shirt. "They are so much better, so much bigger." And they swelled even larger as she anticipated me; I thought I heard threads creaking. "But they're so far away," I continued. "I can hardly see them, all the way down there."

 

She got my meaning and looked suddenly taken aback. "Wait. Just how tall do you want me to be?"

 

I shrugged. "How tall can you be?"

 

"I can be anything you want," she said. "Anything anyone wants. I've had huge breasts, tiny breasts, a big butt, a little butt, blond hair, black hair, red hair, curly hair, straight hair; I've been fat, skinny, muscular, delicate, short, and tall. How tall?" She thought for a second. "I was with an ex-basketball player once. He wanted a real beanpole. I was probably six-foot-four. You're saying you want me bigger than that? I just want to get this straight."

 

"Let me put it this way," I said, smiling but my heart beating fast. "Start growing. I'll tell you when you've gotten too tall. And you'll probably never hear me say a word about it."

 

"You're serious," she said.

 

"Yeah," I said. "Take it slow."

 

She shook her head slowly, eyes a bit wide, a trace of a smile playing about her lips. "Well, this'll be a new experience," she said. "This'll be fun."

 

I could hardly breathe.

 

"I'm, what, about six-foot-one now, do you think?" she went on. "Let's see where this goes." She glanced upwards for a second, and gave me a teasing smile. "Now, what were you saying a minute ago? About my breasts?"

 

"Oh yes," I said, catching her mood. "I'm impressed. You do good work. But it's so dark; if only I could see them grow...close up."

 

"Well, we'd better bring the mountains to Mohammed, then," she nodded. Already her head was rising into the air again. I looked down. Her breasts slowly rose up my chest, badly compressed by her poor shirt; seams were straining along her sides. Her neckline was stretched out to give a far more glorious view than its designers intended. Her breathing was becoming quick and tight, and apparently painful; she stopped growing abruptly with a grunt, her collarbone about at my eye level.

 

"I'm a little much for this shirt," she managed through gritted teeth, taking the bottom hem with both hands and trying to pull it off over her head. The threads snapped as she tugged, and she was left holding ragged scraps of white cotton, her breasts suddenly completely bare.

 

She looked at my face and grinned. Or, maybe I'm just guessing she did; I was not looking at her face at that moment. "So, how about now?" I heard from above me. "Can you see this clearly now?" And her breasts started swelling, growing larger, expanding out towards me again. She breathed in deeply, showing off. I couldn't hold off any longer; I reached up, ran my hands over her burgeoning curves, put my hands over her nipples and felt them swell larger in my palms, bent my neck and touched my lips to the upper swells of her magnificent breasts.

 

"Aw," her voice drifted down to me, "you shouldn't have to bend down for that," and her breasts pressed up into my face. She was growing again, her shoulders rising above my head, her chest coming up to fill my vision, and in a moment I stood in a heaven of cleavage, my head between two breasts nearly its own size. I nuzzled, ran my hands down her back and around her hips as she purred. The last threads of her pants tore away. She wrapped her arms around me and cradled the back of my head, pushing her breasts together with her forearms. I grabbed her bottom and pulled her tight against my lower chest, feeling the heat from her crotch.

 

She laughed delightedly. I looked up through the valley to meet her eyes. She smiled at me, shaking her head. "This is hilarious," she said. "I must be close to eight feet tall! I ... Sorry, I'm still getting used to this idea. More?"

 

I gave her a look that I hoped summed up everything I was feeling. "Oh, more," I said.

 

She dimpled. "Let's sit down," she suggested.

 

We sat side by side in the warm sand, legs stretched out before us, hands propping us up behind. She was still a full head taller than me. I kissed her shoulder, unable to take my eyes off the imposing slopes of her breasts. She leaned her head down towards me, caressing my face with her hair, and kissed the top of my head. "Look at my legs," she said.

 

I did. Her legs, golden and shining in the bright moonlight, reached more than a foot past the ends of my own. As I watched, they stretched out still further, her heels dragging furrows into the sand as they moved outward. I put my foot against her calf, felt the skin move past it as she continued to swell. Her feet stood like monuments, slowly moving away from us, slowly growing larger, her toes reaching ever so gradually higher into the air. Her head continued to rise above me, her torso expanding, her hips slowly spreading outwards, closing the slight distance between us. She put her arm around me as our hips touched, pressing me against her body. I felt myself starting to slide sideways as her body pushed mine aside.

 

I squeezed her arm and scrambled to my feet. Her head was already at my shoulder level, even as she leaned back slightly, displaying her magnificent chest to best advantage. She smiled with satisfaction as I gaped. I shook myself and grinned back. Stepping closer, I took her head in my arms and hugged it gently to me, kissing the top of her head while I could. She nuzzled into my chest in turn.

 

I stepped back as her head started to rise past my nose. Beside and behind me, her legs stretched out longer than human legs had ever measured. "Here," she said, seeing my gaze, and lifted one leg into the air, straight out from her hip, leaning back a little further and raising it to point directly upward.

 

Her ankle was above my head. I reached out in wonder and lingering disbelief to hold the calf before my face with both hands, feeling the warmth and softness of her golden skin. She pointed her toes, then flexed so her calf muscle bulged in my grasp. "How tall do you think I am now?" she asked. "Ten feet? Twelve? Fifteen?"

 

"Titchy," I said. She smiled with narrowed eyes, and her growth redoubled. Her foot fairly flew upward as she gained inches every second. I moved around to the back of her leg, leaned my cheek against her calf and felt her silky skin slide by. Her other leg was bent beside me, knee up to my waist, then higher as the widest part of the calf I held rose past my grip. A few seconds later I was nuzzling the soft skin at the back of her knee, eliciting a giggle before it, too, was out of my reach. I wrapped both arms around the surprising thickness of her thigh and hugged myself tightly against its firm mass.

 

An enormous hand, at least a foot wide and probably close to three feet long, stroked my back and then gently pulled me to the side. She brought her leg back down and rolled a quarter turn towards me, coming to rest on her side with her head propped up on one hand, regarding me fondly where I stood next to her hips, some considerable distance from that lovely face. Her growth had stopped. I met her gaze with open admiration, then turned my attention to the rest of her body. Her hips towered over me, tapering gracefully into legs that must have been well over twice the length of my body. Those legs were slightly bent forward at the hip, slightly bent at the knee, so that standing at the angle of her torso and thigh I had the pleasant impression of being cradled in a curving wall of her flesh. She idly straightened and re-bent the upper leg, one tremendous golden-skinned pillar sliding over another. In the other direction the slope of her hips led down to a relatively narrow waist, probably not above four feet high as she lay, and then back upward, to the soft line of her ribcage, to her breasts ... oh, her breasts ... beyond that her somewhat obscured face, hair cascading down over the arm supporting her, dancing eyes clearly visible. I guessed her at twenty-five or thirty feet.

 

"Not to suggest we should end this anytime soon," she volunteered, "but I want to make sure I understand what you're looking for. I mean ... if I get much bigger, I'm not sure what kind of ... interaction we're going to be able to have. Unless -- I mean -- well, lead on, but..." Her imagination was clearly throwing out possibilities a mile a minute, all brand new to her.

 

I nodded thoughtfully, trying to come to terms with what precisely I wanted from my fantasy now that it was made glorious flesh before me. "You know what?" I said. "You were beautiful when you started. You were more beautiful at my height. Every inch, every little bit you add, just makes you better and better. Right now you're so sexy I can barely stand. But why stop now when you can be another inch taller? Why stop there? It's more than that, it's more than what you look like at any moment, it's the act of growing. Knowing you can be more, and seeing it happen, is turning me on more than anything else you could do. I don't care where all of this ends up. I just want to see you keep growing."

 

She nodded slowly. Her smile started small and broadened. "Then let's get started," she said.

 

She stretched languorously, knowing what that alone would do to me, then rolled slightly onto her hip and pivoted, swinging her long, oh so long legs around and away from me. A hand came down on either side of me, and now she was lying prone, pushing her head and chest up with her arms. She'd judged it perfectly: I was engulfed in her breasts, which hung huge and full to both sides, the heat and scent of her skin making me light-headed. Startled and delighted, I almost lost my balance, bouncing to left and right as she shimmied gently.

 

I stumbled backward, back into the night air, and she lowered herself until she was resting on her elbows, breasts plumped on the sand, the shadow of her cleavage dark before me. Her eyes were exactly level with mine; the top of her head must have been eight feet off the ground even now. Her posture and the sand made me think of Egypt. I stepped forward, cradled her cheeks, and nuzzled my face against hers. She nuzzled back, her nose lifting my chin. "You are my Sphinx," I told her, intoxicated by the night and the moon. "Mysterious and divine, you swept out of the night and set upon this lonesome wanderer, posing riddles no man can hope to guess. You have captured me. I am yours."

 

I kissed her once more and stepped back. I was startled again to see her expression -- was it sadness? Pity? Regret? Whatever I thought I saw, it was gone in an instant as she blinked and smiled. Then the thought was driven out of my head as she started to grow again.

 

Her head rose higher as she kept herself propped regally erect, looming over me more and still more as her upper body slid slowly and inexorably towards me. I stood my ground for a moment, then skipped backward with a nervous laugh as she grew closer. I mean, she was huge -- yeah, it sounds ridiculous to say that at this point, but it's hard to convey the feeling you get when something that size is closing in on you. Imagine it -- this absolute colossus towering over you, getting bigger and bigger as it slowly approaches. And this is just the tip of the iceberg; you know most of her bulk is back there somewhere, hidden behind the wall of her chest -- legs, buttocks like, like -- I can't even think of anything adequate to compare them to. She was like nothing else. All the time she's barely moving a muscle, but her eyes are fixed on you, and her smile only deepens as you try to hold your ground but you keep falling back. Each time you swear that this time you won't move, and then her body gets closer, closer, and she's bigger this time, bigger than ever, and your nerve breaks and you back up again. I did, anyway. She was unstoppable, overwhelming. I felt so alive.

 

Finally I dropped to my knees, resolved that this was how I would keep from budging. I knelt there, my heartbeat drowning out the ocean in my ears, as her body approached, her forearms and breasts dragging furrows in the sand. From this position her breasts were the size of my entire body -- they must have each outweighed me by a long shot -- and I watched in delicious terror as they swelled closer. Her arms flanked me, sliding past, the fine hair on them riffling in the breeze, and then my whole world was taken up by her breasts. Gargantuan, magnificent, they crept towards me, inch by inch, looming each moment higher, bigger, heavier, until they were upon me, and I made delightful, trembling contact with the most extraordinary curves that any man in all of history has been privileged to touch.

 

They pushed me backwards, of course. All my resolve was meaningless. I slid back along the sand like a feather, lost in her bosom. It's pointless to try to describe this. I think I shouted aloud with joy. I threw myself into her, then flung my body around to face forward, reclining in her cleavage, legs sliding over the sand as she pressed me forward. Her arms stretched out ahead, hands resting more than ten feet away. At last she moved: she leaned forward, her head came down, until her forehead touched the ground. I was enclosed on all sides by her. Her inverted face beamed at me. Realizing her growth had stopped, I scrambled to my feet, leapt forward and pressed myself into her mouth for a kiss.

 

...I'm not going to be able to describe that, either.

 

A second or hour or week later she pushed herself back upright. I turned to look, and was staggered again by her sheer size as she loomed over me, bringing one huge foot under her, then the other. No question, each of those slim, lovely feet was bigger than I was. From that crouch she rose to a standing position, and I was bowled over yet again as she rose slowly, ponderously, higher, higher into the sky, like it would never end. When it was finally over she stood proudly, her astonishing figure like a marble tower, hair whipping about her head -- apparently the wind was stronger at that altitude -- looking down at me, with that smile I'd already grown to love on her perfect features. Her ankle level was at my mid-thigh. How tall would that make her? Sixty feet? Numbers were becoming meaningless.

 

"What do you think? Shall I go for broke?" she asked. Her voice shook the air around me. Unable to speak, I nodded. She placed her hands on her hips, stretching to her full height. She looked down at me for a moment, then her smile widened. And she began to grow.

 

She grew like ... I almost said a weed, but that cliche is pathetically inadequate. She grew like fire. She grew like the ocean, like the wind, like a force of nature. Her head rose visibly higher each second, even from my foreshortened angle. Her breasts swelled even as they rose. Her feet spread across the shifting sand, toes digging in, muscles in her legs flexing as she adjusted her balance. And all the time she stood regarding me, smiling, her hands on her widening hips. I backed up, only half-consciously, in awe as much as to keep her face in view.

 

She looked up to the sky. The moon hung above her; from my perspective she was closing in on it. Now she lifted her arms, reaching upward; and suddenly she pushed herself upward to stand on tiptoe. That movement lifted her something like ten feet higher in an instant; her feet sank deeper into the sand, with a rumble I was sure I could feel through the ground. Startled, I stumbled backwards quickly. I slipped, or tripped over something; my head struck something as I came down; and that was the last thing I saw for a while.

 

When I opened my eyes again, the moon was in a different part of the sky; it must have been several hours later. My head was throbbing in a way that made me think better of trying to sit up. And she was kneeling over me, stroking my hair.

 

She was her original size. She was dressed, in the clothes she'd been wearing at the start of the evening -- I'd seen them destroyed.

 

We looked at each other in silence for a moment. Then she leaned down and kissed me gently. "Thank you for a very lovely evening," she said. And she stood up and walked away.

 

I tried to get up and go after her, but I got no further than sitting up before a wave of dizziness knocked me down again. I had to lie there and watch her go.

 

I've never seen her again.

 

* * *

 

The bar fell silent. Nearly all the other patrons had left. The man and I sat in our puddle of lamplight, empty glasses before us.

 

A moment passed. I realized I'd been holding my breath, caught up in the story. "Is that it?" I finally demanded. "Are you saying the whole thing was a head injury? Have you been doing anything to try to find her again besides coming back here? Was the beach torn up when you left it? What?"

 

The man looked at me, as if he'd forgotten I was there. "You -- " he began, then stopped. Abruptly he shook his head, stood up and walked out of the bar.

 

He was gone by the time I got outside. It took me more than half an hour to get home. There's never a cab when you need one.

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