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 blasé 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.

 

 

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.

 

 

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.”

 

 

4.

 

 

He 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.”

 

 

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.

 

 

6.

 

 

Reassured that I hadn't hurt myself when I'd head-butted the ceiling, Timothy was now wearing a smug, I-told-you-so kind of smile. “See what I mean?” he asked. “About how size doesn't matter?” He wrapped his arms around my waist the best he could, trying to hug me. He looked for all the world like a picture I had seen once of a four year old boy attempting to hug a giant oak tree. “Come on, admit it.”

 

I laughed, ruffling his hair. “We'll see twirp, we'll see. But so far so good. That teasing job of yours really got my motor running. Your goddess is pleased. Though in the future, I would advise you not to keep me on edge like that, without giving me what I want. I was on the verge of becoming...irritated.” Here I paused for two beats, staring down at him. My look was placid, but I think he got the message: he gulped, and nodded quickly. “Glad you agree. So then, my favored little half-pint...what's your next move?”

 

He thought for a moment, looking around the room, eyebrows furrowed. “Um, well, first of all...do you think you could come a little more down to my level? It's not that I don't LOVE looking up at you – I do. But if I have to keep reaching up to get at your naughty bits, my arm is going to fall asleep.” He demonstrated, lifting his hand high, giving me a brief, leg-quivering stroke, then returning the arm to his side with a look of (probably feigned) exhaustion.

 

“Very well,” I told him, speaking in a partially affected voice – extra-deep, commanding. “But not, I want you to understand, because I wish to make your job any easier. Allison the Goddess is simply tired of standing.”

 

“As you wish,” he replied, concealing a smirk.

 

I bent, setting the bottle down at my feet, and sat down on the wall-bolted bench. It took a moment for me to find a comfortable position – the thing was way too narrow to handle even half of my ample backside. Eventually I found my way into the corner, where the bench made an L-curve to follow both walls. If I sat with my right leg resting straight out on the bench in front of me, and my left foot planted on the ground, knee bent, I was actually supported pretty well.

 

“There now,” I told him, still speaking in low, rumbling tones. “You ask, and your goddess has provided. Am I not good to you?”

 

“Very good,” Timothy answered meekly. He had come to stand at my feet, was staring up at my massive, reclining form with obvious awe. I could practically hear the gears turning in his head, could almost see his thoughts as he considered the limitless bounty of possibilities that my size and position provided.

 

Still, I had to wonder...why was he waiting?

 

“You're not afraid, are you Timothy?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Of me? I mean, I would understand if you were. After all...I'm so...so much bigger than you. I could send you flying across the room without even trying.”

 

He considered the question carefully, then shook his head. “No...not afraid exactly. A little bit nervous but...I guess it's hard to explain.”

 

“Well then don't try.” I smiled at him wickedly. “This isn't the time for thinking, for rationalizing. Just know...that I'm your dream girl. Your giantess. And all ten feet of me is waiting patiently for you.” I reclined a bit further back as I spoke, pushing myself – or more specifically a certain part of myself – subtly toward him. “So...why don't you go ahead...and finish what you started, Timothy. Come over here...a little closer...and touch me. Would you like that, little guy?”

 

He nodded eagerly. “More than anything in this world.”

 

With one gigantic finger I beckoned him closer, slowly spreading my tree-trunk thighs to reveal the treasure hidden between. “Well then...go ahead, Timothy. Because...more than anything in this world...I want YOU right now.” He came slowly, as if sleepwalking, to stand at the place where my legs came together. “Yes, that's it sweetie. You were doing so good before. Now come on...give this big girl what she needs.”

 

I lost sight of his face as he sank down beneath the curve of my stomach. And then after a brief, tension-filled pause, he began. Gently, almost timidly, his warm, wet tongue began to tickle at the supple edge of my inner thigh. He spent a moment tracing his way around the outskirts of my womanhood, going up...down its edges, slowly letting me rebuild the smoldering ashes of my libido back into a raging bonfire.

 

And so, when he finally DID give me a good, hard lick at my very center, the noise that came from me was not a moan but a deep, guttural howl of satisfaction.

 

At my current size, my pussy was easily as large from top to bottom as his entire head, and almost as wide as both his hands put together. You might think this was a problem. It wasn't. It's not hard, you know, finding a g-spot, when it's the size of a silver dollar. And you can get your tongue pretty deep into a girl if you can stick yourself in all the way up to the ears.

 

In seconds it went from good, to great, to off-the-charts, over-the-moon, holy-shit-did-I-just-die-and-go-to-cunnilingus-heaven incredible. “Oh my God baby! Oh my GOD!” Nearly weeping in ecstasy and not even aware of what I was doing, I began to massage my breasts, pressing hard against them with the flat of my palms. I was wonderfully surprised by the thunderbolt of pleasure I felt in the moment I touched them. Pinching and rolling, squeezing and stroking, fondling their enormity between spread fingers. And all the while the efforts of my tiny little man bringing me to new heights of bliss. “Don't stop baby! PLEASE don't ever stop!”

 

“I won't,” Timothy answered calmly. “If you admit I was right.” He had stopped eating me out long enough to speak, had sunk his entire hand inside me up to the wrist as a substitute. “When I say that size doesn't matter. If you do...I think you should say it.” He paused his motion for a fraction of a second, pulling all the way out of me. “Saaaaay it....”

 

“Yes!” I cried, gritting my teeth. “Size...nggh...doesn't matter!”

 

“That's my big girl,” he whispered, and went straight back to work. I fought to stay still through this new wave of pleasure, knowing that a sudden jerk or spasm from my enormous body could send little Timothy flying across the room. My eyes watered. My toes curled. It was...the best ever!

 

Yet somewhere in the back of my head it galled me, that this man who was barely more than half my height could have wrested control of the situation from me so easily. He'd practically bent me over his knee and showed me who was boss...metaphorically speaking of course. But the mind-boggling stream of pleasure I was receiving was just too much for me to fight. The elixir, in addition to making me into a giantess, had apparently turned my entire body into one gargantuan erogenous zone. So I bided my time instead, planned my revenge...and rode out the tidal wave of bliss.

 

Grinning, Timothy bent, wrapped his lips around my quarter-sized clit, sucked. This was too much. I came. Hard. The kind of orgasm where you lose feeling in your face, can't control your arms and legs.

 

From someplace far, far away...Timbuktu, perhaps, or maybe the far side of Mars, I could hear Timothy speaking. “But it isn't exactly true, Allison. Because see, where I'm concerned...size matters very, very much.”

 

I struggled to pay attention to him as the dying echos of my orgasm still reverberated throughout my body.

 

“Do you remember what you asked me earlier? Back when you were only, I don't know, eight feet tall or so? You asked...now that I had you...my giant, amazon dream girl...what I wanted you to do?”

 

I was beginning to come around now: the world wasn't spinning so fast; I could almost breathe normally again.

 

“Do you remember my answer?”

 

I opened my mouth to reply, managed to get out a soft grunt. My eyelids fluttered, but they felt as if they might be made of concrete.

 

“I said, Allison, that since I had you like that...the one thing I wanted you to do...was keep growing.”

 

“Even...still?” I managed to say, though it came out without any vowels.

 

“Even still,” he agreed, apparently managing to understand me. “Even as big as you are, I want you bigger. And lookie what I have here.”

 

At last I managed to open my eyes. Little Timothy was looking down at me with a cheshire cat grin. Clutched tightly in his left hand was the bottle of elixir.

 

I shook my head, finally feeling it clear, and returned his grin. “If that's what you really want,” I told him, my voice a feline purr of indulgence. “As long as you know what you're getting yourself into here. Because after that little stunt you just pulled, don't think I'll go easy on you. You sir, are going to GET IT.”

 

“That's what I'm counting on,” he returned, smirking. Yet for just one moment his expression faltered. And there behind the mask of confidence, I saw it: the faintest, faintest twinge of fear in his eyes.

 

I smiled to myself. He had every reason to feel that way.

 

 

7.

 

 

I could've spent the rest of the night, looking down at Timothy from on high, studying that strange expression on his face. Or, to be proper about it, the TWO expressions that wrestled there. One was fear – that was obvious enough. The other...it was difficult to nail down...nuanced. Not lust, not desire, though there were certainly elements of those. Hope? Yeah, perhaps that was closer, but still not quite right. These two expressions battled, seemed to fight for dominance, neither claiming victory, like the wavering arms of two equally matched opponents in some great contest of strength.

 

I needed to capture one of these emotions, to banish the other. And so, I waited. Until the very moment that look of nuance grew strongest.

 

It came. I acted.

 

The whole time I'd been smiling down at him, smirking really, my expression almost hungry. Now I let this grin widen, lose its teeth, grow suddenly warmer. Winking down at little Timothy, I slowly extended my arms into the air, tenting fingers in an enormous cat stretch. “Alright then, no sense wasting any more time. I'm going to get bigger for you Timothy...because it's what you want. Just like I told you sweetie. Tonight, wishes DO come true.” I laughed, making the sound come out high, girlish. “In fact honey, to be perfectly honest about it, I'd probably want to grow even if you'd asked me NOT to at this point. So go ahead. Hand me that bottle. And we'll get started.”

 

My body moving sensuously, I began to sit up, reaching.

 

The final conflict burst on his face in less than a millisecond, and then there was only one.

 

“Wait!” Timothy shouted, putting his doll-sized hand on my abdomen. After considering whether I wanted to push him out of the way and just TAKE the goddamn bottle, I decided to keep leading him down the garden path. I waited. “Not like that.”

 

I crossed my arms over my chest, giving him my best 'displeased au pair' look. “How then?”

 

“Like this,” he growled.

 

Slowly he sank to his knees, began to lower the bottle. Down. Down, past the valley of my midriff. Down, below the soft mound where my legs came together. Until I finally lost sight of it.

 

I cleared my throat. “You aren't really going to....”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Do you think that's wise?”

 

“Nope.”

 

I felt something start to press against my still-aching sex. Something cold, and round, and plastic. Timothy leaned forward, grinning wider than ever, applied the lightest possible pressure. I was still soaking wet from my previous adventures, and the bottle slid easily inside me (not quite a 'hot dog down a hallway' thing you understand, but maybe more of a 'mac truck through the Holland tunnel' kind of deal.) Sighing in delight, I leaned back, let him push the makeshift dildo in further. The backdraft from between my loins was immediate and shocking...three seconds, and I was once again in full burn.

 

And speaking of burn, there was another heat, a different kind, a kind with an accompanying element of pins and needles welling up from the very center of me. There must have been a trace of elixir on the lip of the bottle, I reasoned, in the split second before reason was no longer possible. I moaned, feeling that familiar stretching itch between my joints, the sudden rush of power. And before I knew what was happening I had surged upward...by four whole inches.

 

The spurt was over in less than a second. I'd growth that much, that fast, from a single drop!

 

None of this had been lost on Timothy. “Wow,” he said, slack-jawed, gawking.

 

“Mmm,” I replied, dreamily. Smirking, I began to slowly rock my hips forward, slipping the bottle in a bit deeper. “I'm about to get a way, WAY bigger, aren't I?” Another tiny thrust. Another half inch of the bottle slid inside me. “Are you excited, Timothy? I know I am.”

 

He only stood there, staring with those saucer eyes. He seemed to have become a bit apprehensive again. “O...kay. Reconsidering over here. Maybe you were right, and this ISN'T such a good idea. Why don't we, ah....”

 

“Just think of it, baby,” I groaned, ignoring him. My own battle had just ended – carnal desire, by knockout, in four rounds. “As soon as you squeeze that bottle, I'll start growing for you again. You saw how fast, how BIG I grew, from just one little drop? Imagine what'll happen when you give me a whoooole lot more! Come on baby, do it. Do it now...pleeease?”

 

Besides my voice, the only sound in the room was the soft, lecherous suction of the bottle going in, out, in again. That, and the clearly audible thumping of Timothy's heart – not just doing a mile a minute, but apparently trying to set the new land speed record.

 

“Oh my God, I'm about to get SO BIG for you, Timothy. Do you have ANY idea how HOT that makes me? Mmm, I might come just THINKING about it. I'll grow, and grow, and groooow. Soon you'll only be as tall as my hip...my knee...and maybe, just maybe....” Here my voice dropped to a low, conspiratorial whisper. “...I'll keep growing until you fit in the palm of my hand. Would you like that sweetie?” I laughed. “You'd have to work SO much harder to please me if I got THAT big, wouldn't you little guy?”

 

He only continued to watch, his expression equal parts horror and mad raving desire.

 

“What's the matter Timothy?” I asked, my voice thick and honey-suckle sweet, with just the faintest twinge of impatience. “You aren't squeezing. Don't you want to fill me up with my special drink, so I can GROW for you again? Well, that's okay...I'm a big girl...a VERY big girl...and I can take care of these things...myself.”

 

Before he could decode my cryptic statement and react, I gave my inner muscles a good, hard flex. I felt the bottle crumple, and a thin stream of liquid splashed out deep inside me. I cried once, in shock, as the icy substance hit my most sensitive areas. But almost immediately the cold was gone, replaced by a neon pink burning, a deep thrumming from the spot beneath my navel. Timothy gasped, tried to scramble backward – too slow. My body EXPLODED outward, slamming into his chest, throwing him across the room.

 

I'd like to tell you I hoped he was okay. But in that moment, I was too far gone to even care.

 

I had grown an entire foot before I had time to realize what was happening. The second foot came just as fast, but this time I was aware enough to enjoy it, to watch the room shrink around me, to feel the sliding friction of the bench against my backside as I grew. It was like riding an incredibly fast roller coaster, one that has come to the bottom of its first hill, is now rocketing up the second, pressing you back into your seat. My head spun. My body shook.

 

And still I was growing! I began to touch myself, my breath coming in ragged, broken gasps, wanting to actually FEEL myself increase. Abs, arms, chest...I drew my fingers over anything and everything they could reach. And no matter where they touched, I could feel it...my body getting stronger...curvier...BIGGER.

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Timothy gingerly dragging himself to his feet. He didn't seem to be hurt, was only rubbing a small red mark on the side of his butt. Without even thinking about it I grabbed him – with one giant, powerful hand – and pressed him face down between my softly swelling breasts.

 

“Well HELLO there,” I crowed, peering down into his terror-stricken face. “Looks like, once again, you get what you wanted. So tell me, Timothy...am I everything you hoped I would be?”

 

I gave him five full seconds, but all he could manage was a senseless opening and shutting of his mouth, the kind of thing a fish does when you slap it down on dry land. In those five seconds I watched, as he slowly shrank smaller against my titanic frame. Timothy now stretched only from the base of my chin, to a spot some three inches above the top of my womanhood.

 

“You're not saying anything,” I pouted. “You must be disappointed. Because I'm still not big enough for you? Yes, that MUST be it. Well, we can fix that, can't we?”

 

Using one hand to keep him flush against my chest I sat up, blindly groping for the bottle. In a few seconds I found it, and held it up for him to see. “Well, lookie what I have here! Gosh, I don't know about this Timmy. But if you REALLY think I'm still too small...I bet I could use this to grow a few more inches. Or feet, te-he!” I paused, shaking the miniscule bottle at him, peering down into his eyes with a look of barely suppressed greed. “Should I?”

 

Once again he opened his mouth to speak, and once again no sound came out. But then, I saw something wonderful – the beginnings of a smile at the edge of his lips. And then, just once, he nodded.

 

“Mmm...good choice, little man.” With that, I slowly lowered the bottle, pinching it between enormous thumb and forefinger, and gently inserted it into my overstimulated sex. “I hope you're ready Timothy,” I whispered, between tiny grunts and growls of pleasure. “....because here...I...GROW.”

 

I squeezed.

 

Almost instantly I felt it happen. No heat, no tingling. Just pure, unadulterated GROWTH. Thirteen feet...fourteen. The bench groaned beneath my weight, the ceiling seemed to rush down to meet me. I screamed, thrusting madly, plunging the increasingly tiny bottle deep inside myself over and over again as a molten cocktail of elixir and my own juices splashed everywhere. It felt like I was literally burning! Now Timothy reached only from the center of my chest to my navel, and even the little rhythmic squirming motions he was making against my stomach were so pleasurable that I thought I might explode. Then I realized, through the delirium haze of growth ecstasy, what those motions were: he was dry humping me.

 

“Oh my God sweetie!” my voice boomed. “I've been neglecting you, haven't I?” As gently as I could I lifted him, held him up, gave him a huge, sloppy kiss with a mouth bigger than his whole face. He kissed me back the best he could, his miniature tongue pressing against my lips, swirling, prodding, tasting. Still swelling larger I attempted to return the favor, ended up licking the entire side of his face. “I'm SO sorry I left you hanging like that, little guy,” I cooed, speaking through our kiss. “It was mean and insensitive and...oh, why don't you just let me make it up to you.”

 

I carefully set him back between my breasts, this time turning him face up. His manhood stuck proudly out before him, like a wooden stake driven into hard earth. I had to remind myself that, for his size, he was pretty damn well-endowed. From my perspective though, his dick was practically teensy – much, much smaller than even my littlest finger.

 

“Comfortable down there baby?” I asked, briefly pressing my breasts together around him, surrounding his entire upper body with their softness. Boob-hug, I thought, and smiled.

 

“Mmm-hmm,” he replied, clearly on cloud nine.

 

“Good. Now...let's see what I can do...about this.”

 

Gently, oh so gently, I began to stroke his length with the tip of my pinky finger. My touch was feather-light, the way you might pet a sleeping kitten if you don't want to wake it. I had grown so large that the ridges of my fingerprints came into play, adding a new, slightly rough texture to his experience. I think it worked for him. Timothy's body gave a little spasm, and he moaned at the top of his lungs, thrusting forward to meet my touch.

 

“Oh, you don't have to do that honey,” I whispered, stroking him just the tiniest bit harder. “I know it feels good...so very very good, when Goddess Allison touches you like that. But relax. You just lie there, and let this giant girl take care of everything. Just think how easy it's going to be, for me to get you off...when I'm this much bigger than you. God, I must be more than fifteen feet tall! And every single inch...is all for you, Timothy.” Slowly I was increasing the intensity, building him to it, getting ready for him to cum his brains out all over my fingertips.

 

But then I had one hell of a flash of inspiration. And with it, I grinned wickedly.

 

Still stroking his tiny cock, I pulled the bottle of elixir out from the soaked place between my thighs, held it above him.

 

“You know...I would really, REALLY like to have you inside me little guy. The problem is, well, just that: you're too much of a LITTLE guy.” He groaned, even in the throes of passion not appreciating jokes at the expense of his manhood. “Don't worry, don't worry!” I laughed. “Because...well...just watch.”

 

Smirking down at him, I turned the bottle over, and squeezed. A long stream of it sprayed directly onto his dick.

 

“THERE you go sweetie,” I purred, speaking over his ear-splitting cry of pleasure as the elixir instantly doubled his sensitivity. “Soon YOU'LL be big too...or at least a PART of you will. The best part. Mmm, and speaking of bigger...that sounds like a very, VERY good idea right now.”

 

Once more I thrust the bottle inside me, gave myself another dose. Two seconds later Timothy and I were growing together, my body lengthening right along with his cock. I guessed he was up to nine or ten inches already, but with how fast my own height was increasing, it was hard to be sure.

 

“Yes...oh yes, swell up for me baby,” I groaned, growing larger myself with each passing second. Now he was actually big enough that I could wrap my whole hand around it without fear hurting him, and I took full advantage of his fact. Slowly, deliberately, I began to jack him off, feeling him swell around my fingers with each and every thrust.

 

“Aww, you're getting pretty big down there sweetie,” I moaned, now stroking him faster than ever. “But you're going to have to be a WHOLE LOT bigger than that to take care of a girl like me. Especially since I'M growing, too. So...take your medicine for me. There's a good little guy.” I pulled my hand away, long enough to give him another splash from the bottle. Immediately his growth accelerated. His balls grew, his shaft lengthened. All the while I continued to swirl my thumb around that most sensitive part, the little spot just beneath his head, watching hungrily as his manhood expanded.

 

“Get bigger for me, come on. That's it...AH! Good boy. SO good. Oh, you're getting so big that...I'm sure you won't mind...if I grow...just a bit more, too? You don't, do you?” Not waiting for him to answer, if it had even been physically possible for him to do so, I held the elixir some three feet over my womanhood, inverted it, let it drizzle down like a waterfall to coat my pussy. With a cracked cry of delight I once again began to grow...surging, swelling, while my body quivered with an earthquake of pleasure.

 

I was approaching twenty feet tall now, almost too big to fit in this teeny-tiny locker room, and much too big to do anything like sitting up. Holding my little man carefully I slipped off the bench, spread out on the floor. Timothy's entire body was small enough now to fit snuggly between my gargantuan breasts. But the part of him that mattered...it looked big again. Almost big enough to be intimidating.

 

I gave him one more dose for good measure, running my fingers up and down his dick as it grew. He looked absolutely ridiculous, a man with a penis three quarters the length of his legs. But in that moment, as his manhood continued to creep out in front of him, and as I welcomed every new inch into the world with a soft caress or a hard squeeze...I think he might've been the happiest guy that ever lived.

 

At long last I decided he was ready. I lifted him from my chest, set him between my legs. He wobbled, would've collapsed under the weight of his colossal cock had I not caught him, got himself in position.

 

And paused.

 

There's a certain look that men and women share, in this most sacred and magical of moments. Before the first time, I mean. Do you know it? Even in THIS moment, strange as it was, we had ours. For that instant, that mote-in-God's-eye nothing bit of eternity, everything else was forgotten. I was Allison. He was Tim. And we were about to make love for the first time.

 

He smiled. I nodded. And then he was entering me, sliding in slowly, an inch at a time. For him, that meant it was more than half a minute before he was in up to the hilt. In all that time I had only a single moan, one that started soft and low, grew, deepened, became a shriek. I wouldn't have thought it was possible, but he was filling me up! Actually filling me, a girl almost four times his size! And with a shock I realized – he might even be too big for me!

 

After this it became difficult to pick out any individual event, to find any kind of continuity. Reality was just a shifting series of slide show images.

 

He was thrusting, over and over, as hard as he could. I was moving with him, grinding, holding one enormous hand protectively behind his back so an untimely buck of my hips wouldn't send him flying.

 

My love juices were pouring out all over him in a deluge, coating him from shin to chin with the slippery substance. He began to slide his entire body back and forth along my outer lips and inner thighs, like some frictionless, animate sex toy.

 

He was running both hands along the rim of my apple-sized clit, and the pleasure this brought caused black curtains to creep in at the edge of my vision. I gasped, gulping down huge mouthfuls of oxygen, and eventually this passed.

 

I felt myself pulsing, streaming out, coming again and again. Not just having multiple orgasms, but having multiple orgasms SIMULTANEOUSLY.

 

Then, just when I thought I might die, literally die if this went on much longer, the end came. Tim pushed himself up on tiptoe, getting every single bit of his considerable length inside me, filling me to overflowing. His head pressed savage hard against my g-spot. The pressure built, and built, and BUILT. Until finally, it could only burst.

 

And with that, we came.

 

As usually seems to happen, there was a long moment of silence after that. Long enough for both of us to catch our breath (it took longer for Timothy; he was the one doing most of the moving after all.) Long enough for me to feel the iron melt out of the part of him that was still in me. And even for a good deal longer after that. I think that we were lost in our own private thoughts, he and I. That, and probably neither of us really wanted this moment to end.

 

It was Tim who spoke first, his voice rusty with fatigue. “Hell of a workout.”

 

“Yeah, but look at all the good it did.” I gestured, from his preposterous new length, to my own nearly twenty-five foot form. “Imagine a before and after shot of THIS. P90X, eat your heart out.”

 

He laughed. Gingerly, Tim began the long process of pulling himself out of me – an awkward maneuver, which once again culminated in me having to save him from falling face-first on his dong. He stood, a hand braced against one of my telephone pole-sized thighs, looked up the long distance into my face. “So...how long before we go back to normal?”

 

I stared back at him blankly. “Sorry, I'm not following you.”

 

His face paled. “Back to normal. You know.” He spun his hand in front of his face in a 'come on, work with me' gesture. “When this stuff wears off. Runs out. Bites the big one, and all that. You aren't seriously implying that we're going to spend the rest of our LIVES looking this way.”

 

It's not easy to conceal a smirk when it's a foot and a half across. “And if I was?”

 

Tim paused, hand on chin. “Then...I think I would probably...try to get the Olympic committee to recognize the three-legged race as an official event.” He did a few jumping jacks, setting his better half to bouncing. Even flaccid, it still hung well past his knees. I doubted it would STAY flaccid for much longer though. Not in a room with the most gigantic, most beautiful girl who had ever existed lying naked before him.

 

Not if he knew what was good for him anyway.

 

“No, I'm SURE they would be receptive to your arguments,” I shot back, giggling. “You've got a GREAT ice breaker. Just tell them the story of our first date, and you'll be a shoe-in.”

 

He stared back at me blankly. “Sorry...first date? When did anybody say anything about DATING? We screwed like rabbits, sure, but that doesn't mean we're a couple now.”

 

Now it was MY face going pale. “It doesn't, but...I just thought that...well I mean...wasn't there something? Some kind of...I don't know, a connection?”

 

“Oh wow...sorry Allison,” Timothy said. He shrugged. You can cut out a person's heart with a shrug, did you know that? “I thought we were on the same page with this. But, a whirlwind night of sex, even sex as great as that....” Again, that fucking shrug. “That's not a foundation for a relationship.”

 

How was it possible to be so big, yet suddenly feel so small?

 

“No, I get it.” Even to my own ears, my voice sounded a bit too high-pitched to be natural, and I was talking WAY too fast. “I mean I've liked you for a long time, and I was really impressed at the way you kept up with everything, all the weirdness I mean, plus you're apparently REALLY into the idea of me growing, which is, I don't know, like SUPER cool....” I trailed off, gesturing lamely with arms that were each bigger around than his entire body. “But yeah. I understand. It's okay.”

 

Timothy shook his head, slowly turning to look me in the eye...and when he did, he was smirking. “In order to be dating, technically, one of us would have to ask the other out. It's been awhile for me, but I'm pretty sure that's how it works.”

 

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. I wanted to pound his scrawny ass into the ground, then find an appropriately-sized set of dance shoes so I could boogie on his grave.

 

Instead, I simply rolled my eyes. “God, who knew you were so old fashioned?”

 

Grinning, Tim ducked under the arch of my knee, came around to stand next to my face. “Allison, I'd really like to take you out to dinner sometime. Maybe to a movie after, or for a walk in the park. Would you be up for that?”

 

I pretended to think it over. “I...guess I could check my calendar. How's tomorrow work for you?”

 

“Perfect,” he said, beginning to lean in for a kiss.

 

“But!” I said, stopping him with a hand to his chest, with a hand the SIZE of his chest. “After that nasty little trick you just played, you better BELIEVE you're buying. And if I were you, I would pick someplace that serves LARGE portions. Not to mention has high ceilings.”

 

“Come off it,” he laughed, pushing with both hands against my enormous index finger. He might as well have been singing it 'Happy Birthday' for all the good it was doing. “I stopped pretending I didn't want to go out with you. Why don't YOU stop pretending that you're still going to be a giantess tomorrow, and that I'M going to be walking around with a shopping basket to hold my cock?”

 

I snorted brief laughter. “Fine, okay, yeah. It DOES wear off. But see, that doesn't really matter.” Still holding him back, I reached down with my free hand, found the now impossibly tiny bottle, thrust it at him. He took it, a look of confusion on his face.

 

An expression that was slowly eclipsed by one of dawning understanding.

 

Tim shook the bottle, letting the liquid inside slosh back and forth. It was still as it would always be. Full.

 

“So like I said...someplace with high ceilings.”

 

The hand that had been keeping him at bay now gently pressed into his back, drawing him close, and we had our kiss. As kisses go, this one was only okay – not spectacular. But...it was a beginning.