#COLLECTION: [Marknew & Nomdreserv] "Drain" Stories

[zarina]

Stories in this collection:

Matt and Emma

In Tennis, Love Means Nothing


An older story, but very fun.  Hopefully this hasn't been posted previously.  #Muscle Drain / Strength Transfer

Matt and Emma
by Marknew and Nomdreserv
_________________________________________

Chapter 1
 
"I can't believe we're coming home from college and Mom and Dad won't even be
there," Brad complained to Matt, his twin brother.  They were riding on the
train across New Jersey, having just finished their first year of college at
Villanova.  They both had blond, tousled hair and athletic builds, although
Matt's hair was slightly wilder and his muscles slightly larger due to some
extra hours in the weight room.  They wore sleeveless t-shirts that showed off
their fine physiques, along with tattered blue jeans.  "You'd think they'd
really want to see us."
 
Matt rolled his eyes.  "Like, you WANT them there?  I mean, we've lived away
from home without them all this time.  What's a few days more?  Besides, once
they're back we'll just be wishing they were gone.  I don't know about you, but
I've gotten kind of used to coming and going when I please, without having to
answer lots of questions.  Hmmm?"  He elbowed his brother roughly in the ribs. 
"I mean, remember you and Claire?  Do you think Mom would have let the two of
you stay in your bed for a whole day?"
 
"I know.  But Emma'll be there anyway."
 
"Fuck Emma.  She's just a little twerp.  She won't get in the way.  She BETTER
not, if she knows what's good for her."
 
"Yeah, but it's not like Claire's around anyway."
 
"What about Mindy?  You know she always had the hots for you, and now you're an
experienced college guy.  I bet she's a real babe by now.  She was looking
pretty good even last year.  How much you want to bet her tits're still
growing?"
 
It didn't take much effort for Brad to imagine Mary.  Although he had never
mentioned it to Matt for fear of being teased, even after a year away he still
fantasized about her.  The idea that she could have gotten even sexier during
the last year was making him uncomfortable in his seat and he stood up to shift
his pants around.
 
"Now, as for me," Matt continued, "First thing tomorrow I'm going to go out to
get myself some sun, and I'll bet you a hundred bucks that I'll be banging some
girl before the day's over."  He shook his head in anticipation.  "Yeah, this is
going to be one great summer!"
 
A few hours later, the brothers climbed out of the station taxi and immediately
heard the sounds of splashing and girls' laughter from the backyard pool.  Matt
gave Brad a wink and the boys brought their bags up to the house and dumped them
in the hallway, not bothering to move the girls' shoes and clothing out of the
way. 
 
"I don't know about you, Brad, but I think my summer's just begun."  Matt
stripped out of his clothes and sauntered into the backyard with his tight
briefs barely covering his impressive package.  Brad, who was a little more
modest, ran up to his room to put on his swimsuit, which was only slightly less
revealing.
 
Meanwhile, Emma was having a great time with her best friends, Mary, Kate and
Ashley.  Without the twins around to monopolize the house and pool and tease her
and her friends, senior year had been such a blast.  She and her friends ended
up as four of the most popular girls in high school, and the term had just
zipped by with one great event after the other.  She laughed when she looked at
them around the pool.  Who would have believed that the four most popular and
best-looking girls at school were all best of friends and were all going to top
schools!  She was only sorry that the year was ending and that the four of them
would soon be separating, although at least Mary and she would both be in
Boston, Mary at Harvard and she at M.I.T.  Of course it was true that Ashley
wasn't exactly in their league in terms of looks, but she was also the smartest,
and in return for helping with schoolwork, she, Mary and Kate had given Ashley a
real boost in confidence and style.  If only Ashley's breasts had developed more
-- she was so thin that even at 17 she hardly had any curves and at 5'1" she was
several inches shorter even than Kate, and shorter still than Mary and her --
but still, she had a pretty face and nice hair.  With the right clothes and
make-up, she would do just fine. 
 
Having just cooled off in the pool, they were hanging out on the deck chairs
working on their tans and exchanging some harmless school gossip.  Emma heard a
car door slam and then their brothers' voices approaching the house.
 
"Shit!  They're back already!" Emma said all at once becoming cross.  She
grabbed her bikini top and slipped it on.  Mary and Ashley did the same, but the
wind had blown Kate's toward the house.   When she got up to grab it Matt was
already there.
 
"Whoa!" he said, holding Kate's top in his hand.  He looked down at her,
grinning.  "Hey, you've developed some real tits this year Kate, haven't you? 
I'd say 34-C, maybe a D?"  He held her top higher, just out of the reach of her
hands, which then dived down to cover her breasts once she realized he wasn't
going to give it to her.
 
"Matt, you jerk.  Give it back to her!" Emma said angrily.  "I can't BELIEVE
you!"
 
Matt laughed.  "Sheez, sis.  I WAS gonna be nice and help her put it on, but now
...."  He held it out so that the wind caught her top and then let it sail
several yards further away.  He watched Kate scurry after it and then walked
closer to the others.  "Hey! Mary!  You're filling those cups out nicely too." 
He turned to Ashley, who was glaring at him.  "Sorry Ash.  I'm sure you're great
in math, but it doesn't look like you're ever going to get past the letter 'B',
huh?"  Ashley blushed bright red.
 
Emma stood up and confronted him.  "Matt!  You have NO RIGHT to barge in like
this and ruin our afternoon.  Get OUT of here right now!"
 
Matt looked down at her.  Even though she was his sister, he had to admit she
too had gotten pretty sexy in the past year, and seeing her in her bathing suit
made it even more apparent.  Of course he was no slouch himself.  He was sure
that the other girls were checking him out this very minute.  He knew he was
being a jerk, but in his experience, although girls would SAY that they hated
this kind of behavior, the truth was that girls always liked guys who had the
confidence to show off.  Not that he had any great interest in these girls. 
Mary was a real looker, with jet black hair, round soulful green eyes and a bust
that was larger every time he saw her -- today being no exception -- but he'd
always figured he'd leave her for Brad.  Although -- nah!  No, this was just
good for a little fun.
 
"What?!  You're kicking me out of my own yard?  Last time I checked, this was
still my house too."  His 6'2" frame loomed over her 5'7" one, and he flexed his
superb abdominals so that the other girls could see, and making sure his sister
knew that in any confrontation, he was going to come out on top.
 
Just then Brad appeared.  "Hi Em.  Hi Kath, Ash."  He looked over at Mary and
his heart did a double flip.  He swallowed twice to make sure his voice didn't
crack.  "Uh, hi Mary.  Lookin', uh, pretty good there."
 
"Hi Brad," Mary replied, glad to see him too, but too angry at Matt to be very
friendly to his twin.  Still, she couldn't help but look him over and notice
that the year in college had only made him even better looking.  The thought
that she might be responsible for the growing bulge in his speedos thrilled her
inside, and she struggled not to smile.
 
Emma grunted a hello at Brad.  He wasn't as bad as Matt, but he wasn't any help
either.  He would never stand up to him, and in any family issue he just went
along with his brother.  Maybe this time though, Brad's presence could work to
her advantage.  She turned back to Matt.  "Hey Matt, I'm sure you and Brad have
lots to do.  I'm just trying to have an afternoon with my friends, ok?  We're
going out later.  Why don't you guys use the pool then?"
 
Matt wasn't having any of it.  "As I said, this is my house too, and I don't
think my baby sister is going to kick me out of it.  What do YOU think?" he
said, leaning down at her. 
 
"Ooooh, you make me so mad!" Emma growled.  She put her hands against him and
pushed, but only succeeded in moving him back half an inch before he tightened
his muscles and stood his ground. 
 
"That's a good one!  My baby sister thinks she can push me around!  Hey Emma,
when you've got muscles like these," taking the opportunity to show off the 17"
biceps he'd developed while he was away at school, "then you can start at me. 
Ooops, I forgot.  Girls can't get muscles."
 
"Oh yes they can," Ashley informed him.  "If they lift weights they can develop
their bodies too!"
 
Matt rolled his eyes.  "Oh really?  I suppose you're proof of that Ashley?"  He
laughed and snorted and then flexed his right biceps again.  "Maybe we should
compare -- see if my biceps are really bigger than your tits, or if they just
look that way."
 
"I just meant that ...." her lip quivered and she looked at Emma, then ran
crying into the house.
 
"What'd I say?  What'd I say?" Matt said in mock concern. 
 
Emma was red with anger.  "You asshole!" she said and charged at him.  Matt was
stunned and off-guard -- for half a second -- but quickly recovered enough to
step aside and grab his sister around the waist.  He lifted her in the air, took
two short steps toward the pool and threw her in, the impact neatly splashing
Kate too.
 
"Well," he said, satisfied.  "It sure is nice to be home again.  Hey Brad, I
think we have a few things to unpack.  Then let's go out for a beer, huh?"
 
Brad looked at Mary.  He wanted to stay with her, but it was clear she would be
in a terrible mood just now.  Maybe another time would be better.  "Sure Matt. 
Uh, bye girls.  Bye Mary"  He followed Matt inside.
 
"I HATE my brother!" Emma said, hoisting herself out of the pool.
 
"Where's Ashley?" Kate asked as she dried herself off.  They heard the door open
slowly and Ashley came out, her face red with tears.
 
Mary leaned over.  "Look how she's been crying!"
 
"Yeah, this is the worst thing for her confidence.  Matt can be so mean!"
 
"And I think she's always kind of liked him.  It's so sad."
 
Ashley joined them and Emma sat down between her friends.  "I'm really sorry
guys," Emma said.
 
They all reassured her. 
 
"Hey, it's not your fault, Emma." 
 
"You couldn't do anything." 
 
"I mean, yeah, you tried, even."
 
Emma balled her hands into little fists and hit the cushions of her chair twice.
 "It's just not fair!  Why does he have to be stronger?  If WE were the stronger
sex this would NEVER happen." 
 
"Well, we ARE the stronger sex, really," Ashley said tentatively.  They all
looked at her.  "I mean, in all sorts of ways, other than muscle."
 
"That doesn't exactly help us in this situation, does it Ashley?" Kate said,
sighing.  "Boys will always be bigger than girls, and with bigger muscles, and
there's nothing we can do about it."
 
Emma spotted a dandelion on the lawn.  She got up, plucked the seed stem and
went back to her friends.  "Well, I'm making a wish.  I wish that
I COULD do something about it."  She blew the seed ball and it scattered to the
wind.
 
"Good one, Emma!" Mary said, putting her arm around her.
 
"Yay!" said Kate.
 
"That'll give you more weeds," observed Ashley and then she smiled, "but it was
certainly worth it."
 

[zarina]

Chapter 2
 
Matt woke up the next morning at about 9:30.  He would have slept later, but he
started feeling dizzy, almost like he was going to throw up, and although the
feeling passed quickly he couldn't get back to sleep.  It had been like that, on
and off, for about an hour last night, just after midnight, and he was hoping it
had gone away for good.  He slowly rolled out of bed, still feeling odd.  There
was nothing else wrong that he could actually put his finger on.  It was just
that everything seemed, well, a little wrong.  It started the moment he swung
his feet out of bed and stood up, just a little something different about the
way the bed and floor felt as he got up.  The feeling intensified when he walked
by the mirror.  Was it tilted slightly?  His reflection and relation to the room
didn't look quite right.  He'd never been THIS hungover before.  But then,
drinking Margaritas until 5 may not have been the smartest thing to do.
 
The feelings persisted as he used the bathroom and shower.  The toilet, the
shower nozzle, the countertop -- they just didn't look or feel quite the same to
him.  Maybe his parents had put new knobs on and they were a bit stiffer than
he'd remembered, but he didn't understand why the countertops seemed a little
higher.  He KNEW they were the same old countertops they'd always had.  He tried
to put the thoughts aside as he got dressed, but even the presumed familiarity
of his clothes wasn't there.  His shirt didn't look right.  Maybe it was big,
but it seemed to make his arms look thinner.  His pants also seemed a little
loose, except that the crotch was too tight.  And his sneakers weren't as
comfortable as they should be.  The soles seemed too thick somehow, as though he
had taking to wearing elevated shoes.
 
Brad had gotten up earlier to go out so Matt went downstairs alone to get
breakfast.  Emma was already there, making sandwiches and snacks -- she must be
having her friends over again.  She was wearing her usual hang-around summer
clothes, a pink t-shirt and cut-off shorts.  He chuckled to himself at how girls
played with their clothes to make themselves look better, like the way this
morning Emma was wearing an obviously too-small t-shirt to create the illusion
of a smaller, tighter waistline and a bigger bust.  He snorted.  Just which
pimply high school senior was she trying to ensnare today?
 
She looked at him intently.  "Good MORNING, big brother," she said with obvious
sarcasm.  "Finally up?"   She looked up at him with a snotty, slightly defiant
look -- the kind she always gave him when their mother was in the kitchen with
them and she was "safe."  She went back to put some wrap on her dip and then got
a box of cereal and sat at the other end of the table.  She was eating Wheaties.
 "Ugh!  Since when have you been eating THAT?!" he said, grimacing.  Emma had
always been a Fruit Loops girl.
 
"I don't know," she replied nonchalantly, shrugging.  "But you can't have any. 
I just finished it."  She showed him the usual orange box.  Sheryl Swoopes was
on the cover, looking pretty buff. 
 
He was trying to decide if it was worth beating up on her a little.  He decided
hunger was his first priority, and opened the cupboard to get a bowl for his
cereal.  Once again, he had that odd feeling of slight disorientation.  It
almost seemed like the shelf in the cupboard was higher than it should be, and
he had to actually reach up to get the bowl.  "Who would want THAT stuff?" he
said, pouring out a large bowl of his favorite, Cocoa Puffs.  At least his Mom
remembered to get them for him.  He'd had to endure a year in the campus dining
room without them.
 
"You should.  It's good for you.  Makes you strong," she said, eating every last
drop and then drinking the vitamin-enriched milk at the bottom of the bowl. 
"That's junk food, and it'll just make you fat," she said pointing at his box.
She flexed her muscle, but of course nothing much happened.
 
Jason laughed so hard the chocolate-tinted milk ran out of his nose.  "Yeah,
right.  Look at little Miss Jockette here!  Har-har-har!"  He couldn't resist. 
He reached over and grabbed her upper arm and squeezed hard.
 
"Owwwww.  Quit it!" she cried, pulling away and then rubbing her arm where he'd
held it.  "That's not funny!"
 
"Oh yes it is," he replied, laughing.  "Still pretty soft'n small, sis!  I guess
the Wheaties isn't working," he teased.
 
Emma's face reddened with anger and she glared at him.  She stood up and seemed
ready to kick him, but she kept her temper under control and sat back down
again, breathing heavily.  Matt still expected her to do something to get back
at him, so he grabbed the milk jug before she could throw the milk on him.  It
was weird.  Based on its weight the gallon jug seemed fuller than he thought. 
He must have had too much to drink last night.  THAT was the problem!  Then he
started feeling a little dizzy.  When the feeling stopped he felt disoriented
again.  Something was different but he couldn't quite place it.  The jug was
getting heavy so he put it down out of her reach and took a few more bites of
his cereal, but even the cocoa puffs didn't taste right.  He was feeling too
weird to be hungry.  He was going to have to drink less if he was going to stay
in shape this summer.
 
Emma was smiling at him, her cocky expression back again.  "Losing your
appetite?  Or is the taste too strong for you this morning?"  Matt rubbed his
head and gave her his most unpleasant look.  She stared back at him and then
looked away.  She took a deep breath and seemed to decide to shrug off the
fight.  "So, I assume you and Brad will be doing something later today," she
asked, brightening her voice.
 
"What's it to you?" he snapped.  He wished she'd mind her own business.  "I
haven't seen Brad since early last night.  I don't know what he's doing later."
 
"Oh really?"  She thought a minute, a smile playing across her face.  She leaned
forward and looked at him carefully.  "Well, my friends are coming over again
later today.  Please don't behave like you did yesterday.  Ashley was really
upset."
 
That was one of her oldest tricks, pretending to be nice again to get him to do
what she wanted him to do.  He smirked.  Just let her try.  It might work with
their parents around, but he wasn't going to fall for it.  Yesterday had been
fun, and with their parents still away he'd be able to do whatever he wanted and
either force her to secrecy or claim a "misunderstanding" later.  He looked
forward to some more heavy-duty teasing, ESPECIALLY with Ashley.  She DESERVED
to be put in her place a little.  She thought she was so hot, going to Stanford,
when she was really a total geek.  Then he remembered that bet with Brad about
getting laid today.  He'd have to work on that later too.  Then again, assuming
the girls would be out by the pool for the afternoon he might see whether
yesterday's fun got him some attention.  That Kate wasn't half bad, and nothing
would make Emma madder than him banging one of her best friends.
 
"Oh, yeah, I'm really sorry about that," he said in mock sincerity.  "But don't
worry.  I'll try really hard to make a better impression today."
 
"I'm sure you will," she said softly.
 
"What?"
 
"Nothing," she said, smiling brightly again.  No, nothing was going to get in
the way of her good mood today. 
 
Matt ate another spoonful of cereal.  It tasted sweeter suddenly, more chocolaty
too.  He frowned and looked up.  Why was Emma still hanging around, like she was
watching him?  Girls!  Then he noticed the Wheaties box.  The picture of Swoopes
looked different.  Emma must have turned the box around, and in this one,
instead of guarding someone, Swoopes was now driving toward the basket.  He'd
never realized she could jump so high or that she was so muscular.  Those were
some real biceps.  He'd never seen a WNBA game, but he understood now how she'd
gotten to be MVP.  She must be the most muscular player in the league. 
 
Emma watched him stare at the box.  She was so excited she could hardly contain
herself.  She couldn't just sit there.  Her heart was pounding.  She'd probably
explode if she didn't do something!  So she stood up.  At least she succeeded in
keeping her expression calm.  "So, I suppose you're going to be working out all
summer to get in shape for football?"
 
Matt sighed.  With this hangover, the last thing he wanted was to engage in
inane chitchat with Emma.  "Yeah, well of course, what do you THINK?" he said,
not even bothering to look up at her.
 
She paused a moment.  "I think you need it," she said, with a slight giggle.
 
He put down the spoon and looked up at her.  "What's that supposed to mean?"
 
Emma shrugged.  It was so hard to contain herself, to stay cool.  "Um, well,
nothing."  She stared at him.  "It's just ... well ... you've REALLY been
working out for the team this year?"  The note of doubt in her voice was plain.
 
"Well, yeah!  Jeez Emma.  I know you're my sister, but I'd think even you'd
notice it."
 
"Well, ok.  If you say so."  She peered at him closely.  "Well, I'm just saying
... I can't really tell."
 
"Are you crazy?!"  Matt was very vain about the way his muscles had developed in
the last year.  He'd increased his lifting weight by almost 40% during the year,
and twice he'd had to buy a larger shirt size.
 
"Show me then," she said, challenging him.  "What do you say?  Pump 'em up."
 
"Forget it, runt."  He loved showing off, but there wasn't much point when it
was your sister.
 
"Aw, come on.  Please?" 
 
Emma crossed her arms in front of her chest.  Matt stared at her.  What was she
trying to pull?  Did she think that by pushing out her boobs she was going to
get him to do what she wanted?  He KNEW her chest wasn't THAT big.  "You know,
I've been trying to tone up too.  See?"  She flexed her right arm -- not the
right way, but with her fist touching her shoulder.  Why did girls think THAT
was the way to do it?  Matt was about to curl his lips in a derisive sneer when
something caught him short.  She actually did have some biceps, even in that
pose, something that you could actually call a muscle.  They weren't very big,
but they looked firm, certainly bigger than anything he could remember seeing on
her before.  In fact, her pose seemed to emphasize all of her upper body
musculature, and her shirt stretched tightly across her chest as though she had
bigger chest muscles as well. And that wasn't all that seemed bigger.  She'd
moved her arms from her breasts, and they still looked bigger.  Perhaps it was
the tighter shirt, but her breasts seemed to jump off her chest and looked at
least half a cup size bigger.  (Matt considered himself an expert on cup sizes.)
 
Matt belatedly realized he was staring hard at his own sister's boobs, and
finally broke his gaze away to find her smiling at him, having observed exactly
what he'd been looking at.  Embarrassed, he decided to put her in her place by
showing off a real muscle.
 
"Girls!" he said in contempt.  "They think it's such a big deal if they have any
muscle at all.  Well, take a look at this."  He brought his arms up and tensed
into his own pose, making sure his sleeves moved up enough to provide the big
show.
 
Except it wasn't.  Maybe it was just the effect of the big build-up he was
giving it.  Maybe it was his hangover.  Or maybe it was just too early in the
morning.  But his own biceps just didn't seem as imposing as they should have. 
They just weren't as large as his image of them in his own mind.  They looked
just like they had several months ago.  Sure, they WERE bigger than they had
been when he'd left home, but they weren't the imposing balls of power that he
was so proud of.  He immediately resolved to do double sessions with his weights
for the next couple of weeks. 
 
"Well, yeah.  Like I was saying." She shrugged.  "I guess that's why you need to
work out so hard this summer.  So, were you, like, spending too much time
studying to do your weight training during the year?  From what Mom and Dad were
saying about your grades, that extra studying didn't do you much good."
 
He flushed angrily. He can't believe they talked about his grades in front of
Emma.  He never worried much about them, not with his football scholarship, but
she was taking things too far. 
 
"Listen, Emma.  I may be feeling a little off this morning, but you KNOW I've
really built up my body this year.  You and your friends saw it yesterday.  So
don't start making cracks about my strength.  Not when it's just you and me in
the house together.  Understand?"  He leaned closer to her, threateningly.
 
Emma pulled back slightly and swallowed.  For all her teasing, she knew Matt was
strong and he'd hit her before.  She hated being hit and she didn't want to
confront him now.  "Well. OK.  I'm sorry if I offended you.  I was just trying
to be honest.  But I shouldn't have said anything about your grades.  I know
it's kind of a sore spot for you."  She knew she shouldn't have said that
either; it was just making him angry again, so she moved further away.  "And
about your muscles, it's probably just that you're sitting down.  Or you're not
fully awake yet.  I mean, don't you have to work out a bit before they really
get big?" she suggested helpfully.
 
"Shut up!" he ordered, pushing his partially-finished bowl away and getting up
angrily.  Emma got nervous and backed away further, and as she did, he felt a
momentary dizziness and put his hand on the table to steady himself.  When he
felt right again, he looked at her.  Her shirt looked different somehow.  It was
her shoulders.  He hadn't realized before that she must be wearing shoulder
pads. Was that her new style idea or something?  It looked pretty stupid, he
thought, for a girl in a t-shirt on a summer day.  But that wasn't all.  Her
arms looked almost like she was still flexing them a little, even though they
were just at her sides.  Maybe it was because he'd scared her with his
threatening talk.  Well good!  It was pretty funny that even in the middle of a
"flight or fight" reaction, her biceps were still so small.  Determined to put
her in her place, he walked out of the room.  "Don't forget to do the dishes,"
he ordered.
 
Emma watched him go and then looked down at her shirt and the way it fit over
her chest.  She pulled it down to smooth it, ran her fingers up her arm to
adjust her sleeve and smiled.  Even with the ups and downs, the morning was
going just as she'd hoped it would.  She ran to phone Mary for a quick chat,
then got off and sighed happily.  She couldn't wait to see what happened next. 
She didn't have to wait long.
 
Matt headed down for his room and then stopped at the basement stairs.  He
definitely did not like the way his arms had looked when he flexed them.  Why
not go downstairs now for a workout?  Exercise probably was the best way to
knock off the hangover anyway, and it would be good to see how much more weight
he could lift on his old gym set.  So, he rumbled down the stairs, looking
forward to the musty smell of the basement where he'd spent a lot of time during
high school, alone and with his friends.
 
But when he got downstairs, everything looked different.  Instead of the dark
wood paneling there was a light, pink color on the walls and a pink and black
polka dot carpet.  Where the bar and TV should have been there was a library, a
sewing table and a bridge table.  Even worse, instead of the series of New York
Giants posters that should have been there, there was a wall plastered with
posters of wimpy "Boy Band" singers in tight leather pants.  The weight machine
wasn't there either.  No -- it was.  It was in a different part of the room, and
it was a different machine, with red cushions instead of black ones, and padding
on all the bars instead of the familiar shiny metal.
 

[zarina]

"Hey!  What'd you guys do to the basement?" he yelled upstairs.  Emma didn't
answer.  "Emma!  Hey!  I'm asking you a question!"
 
She walked to the top of the stairs. "What did you say Matt?  I couldn't hear
you."
 
"I said, who fucked up the basement?"
 
"What do you mean?"
 
"Get the fuck down here and I'll show you what I mean."
 
Emma felt a thrill of excitement go through her from her head to her toes and
started down the stairs.  "All right.  But this better be good!"  She had a
feeling it would be.
 
Matt was standing in the middle of the room, his arms folded in front of him. 
"Well?" he said.  "What is all this shit?"
 
Emma looked around.  She had been arguing with her parents for years that the
basement looked awful and that they should do something to fix it up, but Matt
had always insisted he liked it just as it was -- probably because he knew that
only he and his friends would use it.  Well, maybe now his opinion didn't count
for as much.  She had to admit it still wasn't great.  It looked exactly like
the stuff her mother would pick.  But it was a lot better than the way it used
to look.  A lot cleaner too.  And the posters were ... interesting.  She peered
closer at the pictures.  "Oh yeah.  That."
 
"What's that supposed to mean?"
 
"Well, just that -- what's the big deal?  It's not that bad.  It's brighter and
cleaner.  And you were away."
 
"Where are my football posters?" he demanded.
 
"I don't know.  Mom might know," she suggested, although she doubted that was
true.
 
"I paid $100 for those.  And what am I supposed to do now?  Look at these
pansies while I work out?" indicating the new posters.  "I mean, just look at
those guys."  Matt shook his head in disgust.
 
Emma did look more closely.  She could see why Matt was pissed.  They weren't at
all masculine-looking, with fairly thin arms and narrow shoulders, but they were
well-endowed in other respects, their clothing certainly accentuated their most
impressive attributes and their facial expressions were very sensitive and, uh,
appealing.  It was not at all the kind of thing Matt would find inspiring.  But
then, looking at them made her feel kind of hot.  She liked the feeling.
 
"Well, you'll have to ask Mom when they call us.  For now, I guess you'll have
to ignore them.  I don't really look at them much anymore while I work out.  It
was just sort of a joke when I picked them for Mom to put up, so we could move
them if you want."
 
"YOU'VE been using this to work out?" he said, incredulous.  She nodded.  Well,
he thought, that would explain Emma's slightly better body.  "I can't work out
looking at those faggots in leather pants."
 
"Then don't," she said, shrugging.  "Close your eyes then.  Go to a gym.  Or
just ... go soft."
 
She knew she was just making him mad, but with the exercise machine next to him
and her standing all the way across the room, she calculated that she was safe,
so long as she didn't go too far. 
 
"Yeah, well."  He pulled on the padded bars.  "And this padding just feels so
lame.  What did you guys do to the old weight machine?"
 
"I don't know, but I'm sure you'll find this one works fine. Try it and tell me
what you think."  She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall comfortably.
 
Matt rolled his eyes to make sure she knew how pissed off he was, but then got
down to business.  He did a few stretches and then set the weight for the pull
downs at about twenty pounds less than he had last done them.  It had been a few
days since his last workout and he wanted to start slowly.  Besides, doing a few
easy pulls at more than twice the weight SHE could ever use would demonstrate
his superiority -- and make him feel better.  He gripped the bar, his hands
testing the unfamiliar softness of the padding, and pulled down.  The bar moved
slightly.  He pulled harder and got it down a few inches then had to let it rise
again.
 
Emma tried desperately to suppress her laughter and ended up snorting and then
coughing loudly to cover it.  She turned to the wall and got herself under
control. 
 
Meanwhile Matt was looking at the settings.  He couldn't have gotten them wrong!
 
 
"Um," Emma said, her voice almost back to normal, "I think maybe the weights are
in kilos.  It's a European model.  I think."
 
"You think?" Matt stared at her.  "How could you not KNOW something like that! 
It's so ... basic!  I can't believe you didn't tell me."
 
"Well, I never really care exactly how much I lift.  It's not like I'm competing
with anyone.  I'm just trying to keep in shape, you know," Emma replied.  She
pulled her t-shirt up a couple of inches and did a few twists to demonstrate the
good tone of her abs, which were slightly visible. 
 
Matt could not help looking at how trim and hard her waist looked, and how the
muscles of her legs twitched as she moved.  Why, she really had developed since
he had been away.  Why hadn't he noticed it yesterday, he wondered?  Of course,
he'd probably been looking at her girlfriends, he reasoned, especially Mary. 
Why would he ever inspect his own sister's body?  "Yeah, yeah.  Very nice."  He
scowled and bent down to adjust the settings.  "Uh, how many pounds is in a
kilo?" he asked, a little embarrassed that he didn't remember.
 
"About two," she replied.  She knew it was 2.2, but there was no point being
exact.  "I'm going back upstairs," she announced and disappeared.
 
Matt didn't bother to reply.  He couldn't believe that she could use a weight
machine and not care how much she lifted.  It was so like her, so like all
girls.  They had no sense of competitive sports.  No idea what games were all
about.  He took a deep breath, divided by two and moved the key up.  He pulled
the bar down easily now -- almost too easily.  He went around to another station
and tried the curls.  Again, it was much too easy.  Something was definitely
wrong.  He moved the key back down again and tried the curl.  That was better. 
Something about the machine was just screwy.  He'd have to find the manual and
figure it out.  But for now, he was just going to concentrate on his workout. 
He would just have to feel his way to the right weights. 
 
Emma heard Matt clanking away on the machine.  It was such an annoying sound. 
He was really going at it.  Well, he should have his fun now.  She could not
believe how much effort he put into building his muscles and getting stronger. 
She could never do that.  She looked at the soft, smooth skin of her arm, the
gentle curve of her biceps.  She touched them, pushing the firm tissue.  Weren't
they large enough?  She had never felt any need to be stronger.  She couldn't
really understand why it was so important to him.  But she knew it was.  She
knew how much he loved to flex, to see his biceps bunch up and harden and to see
how other people, male and female, reacted to the sight.  He liked the
intimidation they produced, the jealousy, the admiration, the fear.  Everyone
else had to wonder what HE was going to do, how HE was going to react, knowing
that there was little THEY could do to stop him IF he wanted to start something.
 And he usually didn't have to start anything.  He got what he wanted just
because people knew what he could and might do if he didn't.
 
It was so annoying.
 
Yes, she liked her body now.  Her breasts were nice, her hips had a good curve
to them, while her ass was still pretty tight.  And her legs were firm and
strong, but not all bulgy.  It was funny last night, hanging out with her
friends talking about what women would look like if they were the ones who were
bigger and more muscular.  They all laughed and giggled, even on just one can of
beer.  And Kate was so good at drawing.  They'd just suggest something and she'd
draw it.  First a picture of how they were now, and then as if they had more and
more muscle.  The funniest was a picture of Ashley and Matt, with Ashley the
tall and powerful one, with thick round arms and a large chest, half of which
was bulging muscle and the other half round high breasts, with a tiny thin Matt
looking up at her wistfully.  They laughed so much.  What a great group of
friends.  What a shame everything would change soon, the four of them scattering
to different schools.  Well, they'd made their decisions.  They really couldn't
do much about it now.  Of course they COULD change their minds.  But they
wouldn't.  That is, she wouldn't.
 
She could hear Matt's heavy breathing from all the way upstairs.  If he didn't
stop soon it wouldn't be long before she'd be able to smell him too.  She
wrinkled her nose.  She HATED that.  The basement would start to stink too, and
it always took hours before it was ok again.  She took a deep breath and
concentrated.  It got quiet.  She looked downstairs and called "Hey, are you all
right?" and then went down.  Matt was kneeling on the ground, his hand on his
head, just ready to stand up again.  Emma's eyes shifted to the posters and then
back to Matt.  "What happened?"
 
"I don't know.  I've been having these dizzy spells this morning."  He leaned
against the machine.
 
"It looks like that was a bad one.  Maybe you shouldn't be working out like
that," she suggested, still standing by the stairs.  "Maybe it's not good for
you, especially after you've been out late drinking."
 
"Aww, cut the shit, Emma.  You sound like Mom.  You know I do this stuff all the
time."  She didn't say anything.  He felt better now, the light-headedness
passing quickly.  He had been working on his second set of curls with the
heavier weights and had just been starting to get that burn in his arms.  He
wanted to go back to it while they were still pumped.  He gripped the bar and
pulled.  The bar hardly moved.  He pulled harder, straining on the cable and
again it moved only slightly.  Then the weight was too much for him and it
settled back to his starting position.  Matt pulled on it again but he couldn't
move it at all.
 
Emma walked closer.  "What are you doing?" she asked.
 
"This stupid machine.  The cable's stuck or something!" he said, very annoyed. 
"That other one always worked perfectly.  Why did you guys have to get rid of
it?"
 
Emma ignored his question.  She stepped next to him and quickly put her hands on
the bar.  She pulled it up a few inches and then let it go back down.  "It feels
all right to me," she said nonchalantly and then stepped back.
 
Matt took a sharp breath in.  That was really weird.  He gripped the bar again,
tightly, and pulled.  Again, he could raise it just a little bit.  Emma was
standing right there now.  He pulled as hard as he could and lifted it two, then
three inches, before his strength gave out and the bar dropped quickly, the
weights clanging loudly.
 
"Hey, watch it!" Emma said. "You're going to break it.  Just do it with less
weight, ok?  You don't have to impress me."
 
"Hey, I know I can do it with this weight, ok?  I just did."  He gripped the bar
and pulled again.  Emma stood next to him, watching him strain, his arms shaking
from the effort, his muscles tensed and the veins on his arm just visible.  She
looked at his muscles and wondered what he was thinking -- after all, they were
just the size of an average boy's, not a football player's, the biceps rounding
noticeably but looking neither particularly large nor hard.
 
Matt was growing more and more frustrated, well aware of Emma's presence and the
way she was looking him over.  He let go, exhausted.  "It's this damn machine. 
Something's wrong with it," he said, ignoring for the moment -- or perhaps not
noticing -- what was -- or wasn't -- on his arms.
 
"Come off it Matt.  You're always making excuses, aren't you."  She nudged him
aside with her hip and put her hands under the bar, just as she'd seen him do
it. 
 
"Now you're the one who's gonna get hurt ..." he said, his voice trailing off as
she smoothly and confidently curled the bar to her chest and let it drop, then
repeated it five more times easily. 
 
She leaned forward and moved the key up to the first weight, paused a moment and
then down to the second.  "Try that one.  You can work your way up to the
heavier weights when you start to develop your arms."  She stepped away to let
him try but he just stood there staring at her.  She shrugged.  "Well, if you
don't want to."  She leaned back and moved the key down, adding several weights
more than she'd just lifted.  She positioned herself and then started curling
again.  It was harder, but she was able to do seven curls quickly enough and
then slowly finish out three more.  It felt good to push her muscles that way. 
Her heart beat hard and her arms tingled.  She really liked the feeling, much
more than she'd thought she would.
 
Matt stared at her.  It wasn't only that she'd just curled more weight than he'd
just been able to lift.  But he suddenly noticed that she was as tall as he was.
 And her shoulders were broad, her arms thick and her chest full.  No, not just
broad, think and full.  Broader, thicker and fuller than his.  No, that couldn't
be Emma.  He shook his head violently.  He stared at her.  No, otherwise she
looked the same.  Her face, her expressions, her voice.  He shook his head. 
Then he glanced at the posters.  They had changed again!  They all had styled
hair now, and the crotches of their leather pants suits now bulged into visible
balls.  He looked away.  He was feeling more weight in his crotch too, but he
was afraid to look down.  Maybe he WAS getting sick.  He looked at the next
station on the weight machine but then had second thoughts about trying it again
with Emma standing right there. 
 
As if reading his mind she said, "Get over it Matt.  If you want to keep trying,
go right ahead.  But don't feel bad if you can't do as much as I can.  You don't
have the muscle for it.  I mean, you're a boy, right?"
 
"Are you fucking CRAZY?!" he roared, his feelings of shock and anger finally
bursting.  He put his face next to hers aggressively.  "We both know I'm much
stronger than you are."
 
Emma almost followed her automatic reaction to back off.  Her heart was pounding
and she wanted to fall on the floor and curl into a ball, but she steeled
herself to hold her ground and managed a laugh.  "I don't THINK so, Matt."  She
took his wrist and held up his arm, showing how the tight, embroidered sleeve
hugged his skinny arm.  "Nope.  It sure doesn't look that way."  He pulled his
arm away.  Emma rolled her eyes and pulled her own tight sleeve back.  Even
unflexed there was a noticeable bulge in her upper arm.  "This always happens. 
Boys are competitive and they always imagine that they're tougher and stronger
than they really are.  It's cute, but it's so silly when they try to compare
themselves with GIRLS."  She tightened her fist and already there was a pop in
her arm.  She continued to tighten her biceps and enjoyed watching it rise
further.  "Well, come on, Matt.  I thought we were comparing.  Aren't you going
to flex yours?" she said.  To her surprise he did, producing a round, but much
smaller and softer looking bulge.  She could feel Matt staring at her arm and
she managed to resist the strong temptation to stick out her tongue at him and
say, "NYAHH, nyahh, MY muscle's BIGGER!  NYAHH, nyahh, MY muscle's BIGGER!"  But
she did say it to herself. 
 
"What the FUCK'S going on here?" he said.  He strained his arm in a futile
attempt to make his muscle expand.  Maybe it rose a fraction of an inch more,
but that was all.  He stared at it.  Why did his muscle look so pathetic?  Emma
put her arm next right next to his and flexed again, her muscle rising far above
his.
 
"That's really GOOD, Matt.  I can see you WERE working out a LOT when you were
away at school.  You see what you can do when you stick to it!" she said
encouragingly, knowing just how patronizing and condescending her voice would
sound to him.
 
Enraged, he pushed her away.  Emma fell back a couple of steps.  Her blood
rushed again from a habitual fear that he was going to hit her, but in the next
instant she perceived how much less force he managed and how easily she held her
ground.  And then her conscious mind kicked in. 
 
"Ma-aatt," she said in her bossiest tone.  "Don't start that again.  You know
who always gets hurt when we fight and then runs crying to Mommy."  She didn't
really know, but it sounded good to her.
 
"What are you TALKING about?  Have you gone TOTALLY off your rocker?" he
exclaimed, choosing to believe his memory rather than his eyes.  He grabbed
Emma's arms, meaning to push her backwards against the wall near the stairs. 
Then, with her squealing, he'd decide what kind of punishment she deserved.
 
She looked at him with amazement.  Was he KIDDING?  His hands felt so small
against her upper arms, and she'd just shown him how much stronger she was! 
Well, this would be fun.  She let him back her against the wall, slowly tensing
her arms and her chest as she moved backwards. 
 
The sensation was so strange to him.  He'd seen how large her biceps had looked
when she flexed before, but now he felt them flex beneath his hands.  They felt
so firm, like a real athlete's muscles.  Not like hers had felt just at
breakfast.  He was SURE of it.  But now he was having trouble keeping his hold,
as her muscles expanded beyond the size of his grip.  And her chest seemed to
swallow the space between them.  It wasn't just her tits.  They stuck out
farther; but it was muscle too, a lot of muscle.
 
"So," she giggled.  "What are you going to do to me?"  She licked her lips and
her mouth was open expectantly, like she was waiting to see what surprise he had
in mind.  He grit his teeth and started squeezing her biceps, like he was sure
he had earlier this morning.  That had made her scream all right.  He'd start
with that.  He waited for that mouth to purse with pain, for her eyebrows to
rise, for her to whine and beg him to stop.  But none of that happened.  Her
muscles felt so hard under his fingers.  No, the only thing that was happening
was that his fingers were getting tired and his forearms were starting to hurt. 

 

[zarina]

"I know you like muscles, Matt, but, I mean, aren't you even a little bit
EMBARRASSED feeling up your sister's?" she teased.  She tensed them some more
and shook off his hands.  "Not that it hurt, but your nails are kind of sharp. 
Look at the marks they made on my skin."  She held up her arms to show the tiny
indentations, which quickly faded.  "I've told you so many times you should file
them smooth.  Girls notice these things, you know.  Let me show you how."  She
grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm, forcing him up the stairs. 
 
To his amazement, he couldn't stop her.  Her grip was cutting off the
circulation in his hand and if he didn't move his feet it felt like she was
going to tear his arm right out of the socket.  Then he started feeling dizzy
again, and if she hadn't been holding him he would have fallen right down the
stairs.  By the time his head cleared they were sitting on the floor of the den
and she was rubbing his nails with a file.  It felt very unpleasant and he tried
to pull his hand away.
 
"Hey, don't move!  I'm almost finished with this hand."  Matt tried again but
she just held his wrist more tightly.
 
"Owww!  You're hurting me."
 
"Don't be a baby!  It doesn't hurt."  She rubbed the file across her own nail. 
"See?"
 
"No!  My wrist.  You're gonna --
 
"Oh!"  She laughed.  "Sorry, Matt.  I didn't realize."  She eased up a bit.  "I
just wanted you to keep still to let me finish.  Be a little more patient, will
you?" 
 
He glared at her.  Wait!  Just when had she changed her clothes?  She was
wearing a bikini type halter now tied around her waist; its only function being
to contain her large breasts.  Her arms were so thick; much thicker than his had
ever been.  And he felt so weary.  He must be sick, that was it.  He must be
hallucinating.  "I don't feel so good," he said, vaguely.
 
Emma laughed and guessed that with his reduced size he was having a lot more
trouble with his hangover now than before.  "Well, what do you expect when you
go out drinking all night?  You know it always takes you a few days to recover
after you have more than one beer."  She looked at her arms.  Wow, she was
powerful.  Her biceps were the size of softballs and she wasn't even flexing
them.  Maybe she had taken things too far -- for now.  Well, he looked like he
was ready to fall asleep.  She'd have time for fine tuning while he napped.  She
finished his nails then picked him up.  He felt so light to her!  This was a lot
better than she had even imagined.  Using just one arm she carried him to his
room and tucked him into bed, wondering what he would think when he awoke of the
poster above his bed: there was Cameron Diaz, "Jane Bond," with one well-muscled
arm brandishing her trademark submachine gun while the other tenderly touched
the cheek of a frightened but very erect Pierce Brosnan.  It was cool.  So, had
she gone too far?  She'd have to see what her friends thought.  They'd decide
together.
 
 
Chapter 3
 
When he heard Matt stumble in at six, Brad woke up for a minute, disoriented,
but then settled back to sleep.  He was so glad he'd left Matt at the Sports Bar
when he had.  Otherwise he'd be tired and sick all day.  He was looking forward
to seeing John, playing a bit of B-ball and talking about girls.  John was his
oldest friend, apart from Matt of course, and was a grade behind him even though
he was just two months younger -- he had always had been a bit small for his
age, so his parents kept him back a year.  He hadn't seen John much all year and
he was looking forward to catching up on what had happened at the high school
and where the hot girls would be going to college and just hanging out.  John
was usually so much easier to be with than Matt.  But then, Matt was his twin. 
They were supposed to stick together.  And John sounded a bit annoyed with him
when he'd called, wanting to know why he hadn't heard from him all year.  Brad
apologized, but he didn't want to admit that every time he'd brought up John's
name Matt made such a fuss that he avoided calling him.
 
Emma was in the den, still in her night t-shirt, when he came down around nine. 
She had a bunch of drawings on the table and looked startled when he saw them. 
She started picking them up, but he'd seen them already.
 
"Hi sis.  What're those?" he asked. 
 
She hadn't expected him up early and she'd forgotten how quiet Brad could be. 
"Uh, just some of Kate's drawings," she said, embarrassed.  Brad was casting his
eyes over them quickly.  It would be even worse if she took them away to hide
them.  He'd probably just wake Matt up and they'd wrestle them away from her. 
That wasn't how she'd planned to start the day.
 
"Who did these? Kate?"  He chuckled.  "They're good!  Pretty funny, though,
drawing you and your friends with muscles like that.  Is that, like, what you
girls want?  We learned in psychology that girls have, like 'penis envy' or
something.  But they didn't teach us anything about 'muscle envy'."  He laughed
at his own joke and checked Emma for her reaction but was disappointed that she
just looked back.  She really didn't have much of a sense of humor.
 
"It's just some old stuff.  We, uh, did a comic book in English and Art.  These
were just the drafts."
 
"Really?  So Miss Hoover is still doing that stuff?  Jeez.  High school was so
much more fun than college.  I'd love it if I could get a grade by making up
comic book superheroes instead of reading stuff like Beowulf and The Canterbury
Tales.  It's supposed to be English but it isn't really."
 
Emma had slowly gathered everything up.  "They're in old English or middle
English, Brad," she said patiently. 
 
He was still looking at Mary's picture, which Emma had left on top.  "Yeah,
whatever.  Well, I think your project is much more interesting than that monster
story.  I would have loved to do something like that in high school, but Mrs.
McDonald only assigned book reports and shit.  Do you have the final one?  Can I
see it?"
 
"Well," Emma said thoughtfully.  "I'll talk to my friends.  Maybe we can let you
see something like it later today, ok?  The final will look a lot more
realistic."  She smiled.  Brad could be kind of sweet without Matt around. 
 
"OK.  That's great.  I'm going to get some breakfast.  I'm meeting up with John.
 You want to eat with me?"
 
"Umm, I'll come in.  I thought you and Matt would be doing something."
 
"Naah.  He was out pretty late last night.  I haven't seen John much all year,
anyway."
 
She took the drawings and followed him into the kitchen. "So where are you
going?"
 
"We'll just shoot some baskets I think, see who's around at the school."
 
Emma nodded.  "Well.  My friends'll be over for swimming later.  Mary will be
there, you know."
 
His head perked up from his cereal.  "Oh?  That's nice.  Well, tell her maybe
I'll see her later.  Or ... no.  Don't tell her.  But I'll come by.  I think." 
He smiled.  "I think I'm a bit tired still from traveling all day yesterday." 
He took more cereal, then snuck another look at the drawing of Mary.  He stood
up.  "Well, see you later."  He walked halfway out of the room, then remembered
he'd left the bowl on the table, went halfway back, then looked at Emma.  "Um,
would you mind?"
 
Emma looked at him, annoyed for an instant, then said.  "Hey, it's your first
day back.  I'll do your dish.  But just this once, ok?  The rest of the summer
you do your own."
 
Brad grinned.  "Thanks a lot Em.  See you later."  He went out the door, letting
it slam as usual. 
 
He hopped on his bicycle and sped toward the high school.  He'd told John he'd
meet him there at 9:30, but he was going to be a few minutes late.  First, he
wanted to stop at the newsstand on the way to see if the new Sports Illustrated
was in.  A few months ago he and Matt had been mentioned in the back pages as
promising young college athletes, and a friend had told him he might be in it
again this week. And even though it was out of season, he was always eager to
read the features on football and basketball.  The day SI came out was always
his favorite day of the week.
 
It was twenty past nine.  Emma rinsed Brad's bowl out in the sink and put it in
the dishwasher, then took the drawings into her room and put them away.  What
would happen to them?  She didn't really understand how her new powers worked,
but when she tried them out last night for awhile, after her friends had gone
home at midnight, all sorts of things seemed to change.  Side effects, she
guessed.  She'd brought everything back to normal so that she could sleep on
their decisions, but the morning had just made her more confident ... and
excited.  Her heart was pounding, she couldn't sit still, so she went back to
the kitchen and started making some snacks for her friends.  She bit her lip,
feeling a little guilty, but then shrugged her shoulders.  It was 9:30.  As good
a time to start as any.
 
Brad was almost there when felt a little dizzy and almost fell off his bike.  He
was able to recover enough to stop the bicycle and hop off but he had to lean
against a wall for a minute before he felt right and he decided to walk the last
half block until he was sure he had his balance back. 
 
It looked like the old newsstand had gotten cleaned up a bit.  Most of the XXX
magazines were gone and the few that remained were at the top shelf, shielded by
plastic covers.  He scanned the rack, noticing a lot of new publications. 
Active Woman.  Family Man.  Homemaker's Journal.  There was Men's Fitness, but
Women's Fitness right next to it.  Since when was People magazine so large?  And
there was US, We, Now, Hello, all of which seemed to be clones of People.  SI
was usually right up front.  There were the fashion magazines.  Elle, Vogue
(with a surprisingly toned model on the cover), but also GQ, Men's Style, and
El.  That was a new one.  He went back to the sports magazines.  Golf, Ladies
Golf, Tennis.  He stopped for a moment to look at Mary Pierce on the cover.  He
shook his head.  There needed to be more drug testing in tennis, for sure. 
There was no way her biceps were natural!  Finally he found the new copy of SI. 
He sighed in pleasure and lifted it.  What was this?  Annika Sorestram in the
Colonial.  Why did that deserve a cover?  She'd dropped out before the cut!  But
the cover said she finished fifteenth, with Michelle Wie twenty-second.  There
was a shot of Annika flexing her biceps after sinking a put.  She was pretty
well-built too!  You could see the curve of her muscle push up the sleeve of her
polo shirt. Either she was on the juice too, or he had underestimated how much
more professional sportswomen were developing their bodies.  There certainly
wasn't anyone like that at Villanova.
 
"Kid, this ain't a library, you know!" the grumpy owner said.  Brad always hated
that guy.  No matter how often he came here, he still treated him like shit. 
He'd have to go through the magazine with John later.  Maybe it was a gag issue.
 He closed the magazine and checked the other sports titles to see whether the
annual football review issues were out yet, but none were.  In fact, the
coverage of football seemed minimal.  Instead, almost half of the magazines were
for women's sports.  He hated when magazines pandered like that.  He paid for it
and tucked it under the bicycle clip and pedaled hard to finish the trip to the
school as quickly as he could.  He didn't want John to think that just because
he was a year behind him it was ok for him to make John wait around.  That's
what Matt always did, and Brad didn't think it was right.  Besides, he wanted to
wipe that queasy feeling out of his body and get his heart racing. 
 
Surprisingly, he tired much faster than usual, and he felt the strain with each
push.  He stepped the gears down from 12 to 10 before he felt comfortable.  In
fact, his muscles actually seemed quite exhausted by the time he arrived.  It
didn't help his mood when one girl came whipping up alongside and passed him on
the way to the entrance.  She was wearing tight shorts that emphasized her long,
strong legs that seemed to move her bike effortlessly and much more quickly, but
he consoled himself with the thought that she had probably only ridden a few
blocks.
 
"Hey," he called, seeing John standing with a basketball under his arm.  He was
watching the girl who had sped past.  She was shooting baskets with surprising
accuracy.
 
"Hey yourself," John answered and walked over to Brad, who was standing at the
next court.  He raised his hands for the ball and John pushed it to him in a
bounce pass.  Brad grabbed it and jumped for the ten foot shot.  It hit the
front rim and bounced off past John, who chased it and dribbled it back to the
court slowly.
 
"Damn!" Brad said.
 
"What's the matter?" John said. 
 
"I just feel a little off.  That's all."  John shrugged.  "Hey, great to see
you."
 
"Yeah, you too.  So, how's the big college man?"
 
"Pretty good, pretty good."  Brad slapped the ball away and shot again from
fifteen feet out.  It bounced on the side rim, went up in the air and dropped
in. 
 
"Lucky, lucky."  John said. 
 
They heard the rhythmic bouncing of the ball in the next court and the sounds of
the ball dropping through the chains under the net with tiresome regularity. 
"Who is she?" Brad asked.  "She's pretty good."
 
"I'll say!"  John said.  "That's Kim Russell.  She was All-State.  She's the
reason the girls' team won the state finals for the second straight year.  They
would have gone all the way in the nationals if anyone else on the team could
play."
 
"I don't remember them winning my last year," Brad said, confused.  "But then, I
guess I didn't pay much attention to girls' basketball."
 
"Are you crazy?  That was the first time our school's won anything except chess
in twenty years.  The whole town went nuts."
 
"OK, well don't get all excited.  It's still just girls' basketball."  Brad
watched her sink a few more baskets from 20 feet out and further.  "Although I
have to admit, she's pretty good for a girl."  He bounced the ball a few more
times and shot another one, a swish from fifteen feet out.  "That's more like
it."  He ran to grab the ball as it bounced and tossed in a reverse lay-up. 
"Yes!"
 
John rolled his eyes.  "Give me a break.  She could beat you any day.  She beat
Coach Hart one-on-one."
 
"Coach Hart is forty-five, right?"  Brad tossed the ball at John, who grabbed
it, then dropped it.  He dribbled slowly up to the basket and shot. It fell
short. "Hey, you feeling off too?"
 
"No, I'm fine."  He shrugged.  "You know I don't really like playing
basketball."
 
Brad looked puzzled.  He had John had played basketball together since John had
moved here.  Of course, John was too small for the school team, but he always
came to the games.  Brad grabbed the ball and moved out from the basket and then
fired it from twenty-five feet.  It sailed wide for an airball.  "Damn."
 
"If you think you're better than she is, why don't you challenge her?  Play her
one on one.  I bet she wins."
 
"Do you think she'd do it?"
 
"Sure.  If you bet on it.  She usually plays guys for money.  That's like her
summer job."
 
Brad looked over at her.  She was about three inches shorter than he was, but
she had a very athletic build.  Sturdy long legs and arms and broad shoulders. 
And she rarely missed a shot.  "Hey, you want to play?" he called out.
 
She stopped dribbling.  "You want to play me?"  She tossed the ball to him,
hard.  He caught it, palms stinging, and loped over to her, dribbling.  She
watched him coolly, appraising his abilities.  "Well, you're a few inches taller
than me, and older, and a boy.  So what do you say I'll bet $10 to your $20?  To
make it fair."
 
"Whoa!  From what I hear, you're the one who should be giving me odds," he said,
feeling a little uneasy about his argument.
 
She smiled and smoothed her t-shirt over her chest and wiggled her hips a
little.  "You mean, you actually think I could beat you?  Tell you what, give me
four to one, and your friend can play on your team.  Two boys against one girl. 
And I'll put down $25."
 
Brad stared at her.  "Are you serious?"  She nodded.  "Then you're on."
 
"Brad!" John protested.  "That's too much!"
 
"Hey, I'll cover the bet."
 
"But I told you, she's great.  This is her summer job.  She takes everybody.  I
thought you'd just bet five bucks."
 
"Well, she can't take me and she certainly can't take both of us."  Brad tossed
the ball to John who flubbed it and quick as a cat Kim was on it and hit a
fadeaway from twenty feet.
 
"You ready?" she called.  "We play to eleven.  I'll take it first," she winked,
"'cause I'm a GIRL."  She took the ball back, Brad guarding her in front while
John nipped around, trying to steal the ball from her.  Brad kept his hand on
her back.  She felt solid and moved slowly and confidently, keeping the ball
away from John's clumsy efforts to steal it. 
 
"Come on, John," Brad said.  "Get it."
 
"It's not that easy, you know," he said, stabbing for it.  Kim faked and then
went the other way, leaving Brad half a second behind.  That was all she needed
and she drove in for the easy shot. 
 
"One zip," she said, tossing John the ball.  John dribbled tentatively, Kim
staying between the two boys, but keeping her eye mostly on Brad.  His back to
the basket, John came closer, then stopped dribbling.  Kim moved behind him. 
She was a few inches taller than John and with her hands up, he couldn't pass it
out.  Brad came around and John flipped it back to him and he used John as a
pick, shooting behind him.  The ball bounced off the back rim and Kim beat him
to the rebound.   She brought it back and then dribbled to the left corner and
shot it up again for a swish.  "Two zip.  Double if I shut you out?"
 
"Just play," Brad snarled.  He took the ball back, deciding to ignore John. 
John wasn't being much help against her.  He'd been suckered into raising the
odds.  Now he had to win.  He pushed toward the basket, faking several times but
she wasn't fooled.  Damn she was good, he had to admit.  He tried another head
fake and finally she went for it.  He waited and then jumped.  To his amazement,
it just cleared her outstretched fingers but it was true and banked in. 
"Two-ONE," he said, his game face on.
 
She smiled.  "O-ho, so you HAVE played before?"  She took the ball and spun it
on her finger, then put it on the floor and started back.  Brad was right on
her, playing as close as he could.  She was using her elbows now, pushing
against him.  It probably was a foul, but he was damned if he was going to call
it.  Then John appeared out of nowhere and grabbed the ball.  Brad dropped back
and called for it but Kim whirled around and took it right out of his hands, and
before Brad could get back to her she tossed it in for another point. 
"Three-one."  She bounced it smartly back to him and he touched the back line
then started for the basket.  He faked a pass to John but she didn't even move.
He took it down the side of the court, then threw it over his head to John, who
fired a shot from close in.  It bounced around the rim and fell in. "Three-two."
 
This was better.  She was driving now.  Brad jumped to block her and tipped the
ball slightly.  It hit the backboard and they both went up for it, both grabbed
it and then wrestled for it.  Brad was amazed at her strength, but finally
pulled it away from her and took it back.  He looked back at her, nodding to
show her respect and she gave a little grin.  She wasn't all bad.  He wished he
didn't have $100 riding on the game, but it was a good contest.  He dribbled
toward the basket.  He'd almost forgotten about John now and in fact, John was
open right underneath.  He raised his arm to pass and again she didn't respond
to the first fake but she did to the second.  This time he put it up to the
basket and it went in.  "Three-three."
 
Now she was looking pissed.  She took it back and Brad was right on her.  She
pushed against him and he pushed back harder.  For the moment, he'd forget she
was a girl.  She was just another player he had to beat.  Then suddenly he felt
a dizzy spell.  He held up his hand for time and shook his head to get his
bearings. 
 
She had the ball against her hip, one hand keeping it there.  "Well?  Are you
playing or what?"
 
"Sorry.  I just --"  He looked around, confused.  John had changed his shirt and
was sitting on one side of the court.  Some girls were sitting nearby, clapping
their hands rhythmically.  "Beat him Kim.  Beat him Kim." they shouted, over and
over. 
 
"Yeah, yeah.  I must have blacked out for a second."  She rolled her eyes. 
 
"Can we get this over with already?"  She took the ball toward the basket.  He
was startled for a second.  She must have changed balls -- it was a salmon color
now, almost pink.  She was about to say something but then decided to move for
the ball instead.  She zigged-zagged right around him for an easy score. 
"Seven-zip," she called. 
 
"What?  It's four-three," he cried in protest.  The girls hooted.  He looked at
John.
 
"It's seven-nothing, Brad.  Really.  Are you ok?"
 
"I swear!"
 
"Look, if you want to play, play. Otherwise, you can just give up and my friends
and I --
 
"No, I'm not giving up.  I'll play," Brad said, hurriedly.  "But why the new
ball?"
 
She looked at him.  "What?  This is the -- oh, is that a little psychological
tactic?  Typical!"
 
"Never mind."  He could beat her, even at seven-zip.  He was getting to her now.
 
 
He took the ball and started dribbling.  It wasn't just the color.  It felt
strange to him.  Too large and heavy.  He didn't have the control he should
have.  But for some reason she wasn't playing him as closely.  He got closer to
the basket and she let him take the shot, a free shot from just six feet out. 
He tossed it up and it hit the front rim.  They both jumped for the rebound, but
she jumped a full half foot higher and pulled it down easily.  She took it to
the back line.  He came up to her, guarding her closely like before.  What was
going on?  She seemed taller, and although he was trying to hold his space she
was steadily moving him backwards.  She stopped dribbling and turned around.   
He put his hands up and realized they were eye-to-eye. 
 
"What's the matter, Bradley?" she said.  "Bit off a bit more than you could
chew?"  She didn't even bother to fake, taking a jump shot.  He went up with her
but again she outjumped him by a good half foot and the ball went in. 
"EIGHT-zip," she said, bored.  She flipped the ball to him.  He took it back. 
She stayed on him close this time, doing to him what he'd tried to do to her. 
But her hand dug into his back.  Why, she was as strong as any guy he'd played
with on JV.  Stronger maybe.  He elbowed her to push her away, and his arm hit
her chest.  "OWW!" she said, suddenly angry and with one arm she shoved him.  He
went flying across the court and hit the ground, not far from John.
 
"Shit!  Don't you EVER elbow-tit me again, or I'll smash your balls so hard
they'll come out the other side.  Jesus!"
 
Brad shook his head.  "Wow, she's strong!" he said to John.
 
"I told you she's Muscles Russell.  She's the strongest in the school.  And
she's only a junior.  I still don't get why you wanted to play her.  You'll be
lucky if you still have your teeth at the end of the game."
 
Kim was laughing with her friends now. She pulled up her t-shirt to inspect her
breast, which was twice as large as Brad had thought at first, and then went
back on the court with them.  Brad came back up.  "C'mon, let's finish up."  He
looked over and saw that his court was now taken up by ten girls playing a
vigorous game.  They were surprisingly good.
 
"You going to watch them or finish?"  He called for the ball.  "Uh-uh.  You
fouled me.  My ball.  She dribbled back and then fired a shot from thirty feet. 
It went right in.  "NINE-zip."  She whipped the ball to him.  It knocked the
wind out of him but he held onto it and took it back to the baseline.  She
played him closely again this time.  He couldn't get free from her and finally
jumped for the shot.  She grabbed it before it left his hands and held it in the
air above him.  Brad jumped, but she moved the ball and avoided him easily.  He
jumped again and again, but each time she kept it away effortlessly, using her
height advantage to full effect.  Finally she got tired of showing off and
dribbled slowly toward the basket. He set himself underneath to block her and
maybe get a rebound.  She dribbled for a moment, standing still, then started
coming at him like a freight train.  He jumped out of the way.  She soared high
in the air and stuffed the ball through the hoop.  "Good move, little boy. 
You're getting smarter." 
 
She tossed him the ball and he felt another wave of dizziness.  The next thing
he knew he was in the middle of the foul lane.  The girls were all around him. 
They were all taller than he was.  They all looked like they'd worked with
weights for years.  They all talked among themselves quickly about the game and
who was playing and who was watching and what they were going to do later.
 
"What ARE we waiting for?" Kim said impatiently.  She was bouncing the ball
angrily and practicing her slam dunks.  It changed color again.  It was bright
pink!
 
"Wait a sec Mussy.  Come on Bradsie. Let's see if you can get it in," one of
them said.  She tossed him the ball and he reached for it but it hit his
fingers, bending them backwards. 
 
"Oww!" he cried. 
 
"Caroline!  Throw it to him softly.  He's a boy, remember?  He can't catch."
 
One of the girls handed it to him.  "Try again."  He set up for the shot, but
the ball seemed so heavy and the basket so high.  He pushed the ball with both
hands, but it barely made it to the height of the rim and didn't go nearly far
enough.
 
"Underhanded, Bradsie, remember?"
 
"We'll be here all day," Kim complained.  Brad looked at her.  She was a good
eight inches taller than he was, with a full bust and enormous biceps.  He felt
dizzy again, and now she towered more than a foot above him.  He looked up at
the basket and tried to shoot underhanded.  The ball went straight up five feet
and then down.  Kim sighed.  With her hulk-like muscles, she lifted him in the
air with one large hand on his rump.  With the other she palmed the basketball
and gave it to him.  "Just put the ball in the basket Bradsie and then let us
play, all right?"  He was so confused and frightened that he did just what she
asked.  The girls all clapped.  Kim put him down and patted him on the head. 
"Now you sit there with Johnnie and cheer for us, ok Bradsie?  Hey Melissa! 
Let's have that ball!"  Melissa whipped the ball across the court so quickly
Brad could hardly see it, but Kim jumped for it, snatched it out of the air and
flipped it into the basket, a good twenty feet away, with one easy motion. 
"Hey!  Let's play some B-Ball!"
 
Brad turned to Johnnie.  "Wh-what just happened?  I was just playing with Kim. 
It was tied 3-3."  He shook his head.  It didn't make sense.
 
John turned to him.  "What are you talking about?  You've been talking about
nothing since you got home from school except seeing 'Muscles' Russell play
basketball.  Well here we are.  OK?  I mean, she's great and all, but it's a
girls' game.  You can't play it.  You can't even throw that ball.  It's WAY too
heavy for boys."
 
Brad looked down at his arms.  They were so thin and soft.  But he was sure that
wasn't right.  "John, aren't boys supposed to be bigger and stronger than
girls?" he asked tentatively.
 
John looked at him as though he had just suggested that the sky was pink.  Then
he grinned and rubbed Brad's hair.  "You really had me going for a second,
Bradsie.  You're such a kidder.  Hey, enough of this 'sports day'.  Let's go to
my house and play some computer games.  He hopped on his bicycle, which to Brad
looked like a child's bike, but then Brad realized his racing bike had
disappeared, replaced by one similar to John's.  He looked over with envy at the
sleek racing bikes the girls had leaned against the fence.
 

[zarina]

Brad continued to watch the girls go at it, surprised both at their ability and
with the degree of physicality in their game.  They really played hard, bumping
and elbowing each other freely, and would have given even the best college male
players a tough game.  He had to admit, they looked a lot better on the court
than he ever did. Not only were there ball skills on a whole different level,
but their size and builds just seemed naturally athletic.  All the girls had
defined, diamond-shaped calf muscles and strong thighs that bulged and rounded
with their quick starts and stops.  Matt looked down at his own legs that seemed
scarily smooth and thin, especially in comparison.  Even more daunting, both
girls had obvious upper body development that seemed more in line with weight
trainers than basketball players.  They had extremely strong back muscles that
made their shoulders look square and wide, and real curves to their arms from
large biceps.  The size and swell of these was noticeable even while doing
simple things like bringing their arms up to shoot.
 
"OK.  I guess so."  He stood up, his stick-like legs feeling a little wobbly,
and lifted the small bike off the ground.  It felt so heavy!  He started to push
off with one foot on the pedal, but he felt awkward and unsteady trying to lift
his leg over the seat while the bike was moving, so he stopped, put his feet on
both sides as he used to do when he first started to ride and pushed off with
one foot, then started pedalling. It was slow going, even though he was pushing
as hard as he could.  His legs started feeling tired even before they'd left the
school, and already John was a hundred yards behind, calling on him to wait. 
 
Just then a girl ran in front of him and halted the bike by grabbing his
handlebars.  Brad almost flew off the bicycle but stopped himself and put his
feet on the ground, straddling the bike.  He looked up at the girl, his head
only coming up as high as her fabulous breasts, which were bound only by the
thinnest string bikini.  She was beautiful, with long, flowing dark hair,
bewitching green eyes and ... goodness, it was Mary!
 
"Hi Brad," she said, smiling.  John had just caught up and he looked up at Mary
worshipfully.  "Oh, hello John."  John seemed to go weak in the knees and just
stared at her, his mouth agape.  "John, I wanted to talk to Brad privately.  Why
don't you just run along home?  Brad will see you another day."  She spoke
softly and sweetly but her intentions were plain.  John nodded obediently and
took off right away, looking back at her several times before rounding the
corner.  "He's such a good little boy, isn't he?  He'll do very well working at
the family store."
 
"The store?  He's going to business school," Brad said.
 
Mary laughed.  "I don't THINK so.  He doesn't exactly strike me as the
high-powered business type.  Can you imagine John holding his own in a
confrontation with a large, confident woman?  No, a flower store is just right
for him.  Come, Brad.  Let's take a walk.  You can leave your bike at the
school, can't you?"  She picked it up one-handed and dropped it behind a fence. 
"I don't think any of the boys can get it out there, and girls can't use a bike
that small."  She put her arm on his shoulder and pulled him closer as they
started to walk.  Brad was going to say something.  Her arm was so heavy that it
made him slump slightly, and her pulling him hurt a little.  But he liked being
close to her so he held his tongue.
 
Brad looked up at her and nodded.  "I guess not," he said.  "Mary --
 
"You know," she interrupted.  "I was glad to see you yesterday at your pool. 
But I was really mad at Matt.  He was being such a jerk.  You don't mind me
saying that, do you?" 
 
"Well, no.  A lot of people think Matt's kind of -- Mary!  Yesterday ..."  He
stopped and looked up at her. 
 
"Yes Brad?"  She took a deep breath, enjoying his distraction at the swelling of
her chest.
 
"You, uh, remember yesterday at the pool, right?"  She nodded.  "When Matt was,
you know, showing off his biceps."
 
Mary grinned.  "Yeah, sure.   Like this."  She held out her arm and flexed, her
muscle exploding into a massive rounded peak.  It was the largest flexed muscle
he'd ever seen up close.
 
Brad stared at it transfixed, looked over at her full breasts, and then back at
her muscle.  He swallowed.  "Um, yeah."
 
"You mean, not exactly like that.  I mean, he's a boy so he doesn't have breasts
like me.  Or muscles this large."
 
"Um right.  But wait, no.  Mary.  Don't think I'm crazy or anything.  John did."
 He didn't want her to laugh.  "But, boys ARE bigger and stronger than girls,
aren't they?"  He tried to make it a simple question but he couldn't hide the
pleading tone in his voice.  She looked at him, her face impassive.  "I mean,
remember when Matt threw Emma in the water yesterday?  I mean, he shouldn't have
done that," Brad added quickly.  "But he DID do it, right?  And ... and he
couldn't have if he were as small as I am and Emma -- Jesus!" The image just
went through his mind.  "I mean, if Emma were as big as you are."
 
"Brad!  She isn't.  You KNOW I've always been a couple of inches taller than
Emma!" she said.  "So she's still two inches shorter -- nothing's changed."  She
looked down on him, patting his narrow, bony chest with her big hand, then
running it lightly down his back all the way down to his crack.  She could see
he was very aroused, especially because the tip of his dick was poking through
the top of his shorts!   Poor thing, he must be having trouble walking!  She put
her hand under his rump and picked him up.  He felt light as a feather.  It was
easier to talk with him now, with his head level with hers.  She continued on
toward her house, which was just a couple of blocks from the school.
 
Brad gasped when she lifted him, and now she was carrying him with just one
hand.  He looked down.  Her breasts looked even larger from his new vantage
point.  And he could feel her extended biceps behind him.  They were so hard! 
She must be immensely strong, much stronger than he had ever been, or even Matt!
 But how --  "But Mary, you DO remember.  I'm not crazy!"
 
"Of course not Brad," she said soothingly, running her finger down his smooth,
soft arm. 
 
"Well, yeah.  Good.  But as I was saying.  Boys ARE stronger than girls, right?"
 
Mary laughed and gently pinched his tiny biceps between her thumb and her
forefinger.  "You think so?  You want to try carrying ME?" 
 
He looked at his arm, so small compared to hers.  "I ... I ... there's no way! 
But Matt picked up Emma yesterday and threw her into the pool.  Right?"
 
Mary looked at him, dragging the moment out as long as she could.  "Yeah, right
... but you said it yourself.  That was yesterday."
 
"What does that have to do with it?" he said, completely mystified.
 
"A lot.  Obviously."  They had reached her house and she took him inside.  With
some privacy now, she pushed his head closer to hers and then kissed him as
she'd always wanted to.  She pressed him against her body, feeling it settle
around her curves, his feet dangling in the air, his leg pushing into her crotch
while his erection throbbed against her hard abdomen.  He still had the same
smell she loved, the same taste she'd sensed with they'd kissed briefly at a
dance two years ago.  It was a little strange being the larger one.  But she
liked it.  Liked having the control.  Liked not worrying about being crushed or
poked.  And like keeping things going the way she wanted.  And although
comparatively he had the size and strength of a child, he was by no means a
child.  His throbbing erection made THAT pretty clear.  She could hold him and
kiss him all day.  She pushed his leg closer, tucking it between hers.  Mmmm,
this was nice.
 
Brad was torn.  At last someone else had noticed that the whole world had
changed.  She seemed to know what had happened, and he wanted to find out what
she knew.  But she was so aggressive he didn't have a chance to speak.  She had
planted his lips firmly onto his and pressed him into her body, and there was
nothing he could do short of biting her tongue (which he would NEVER do) to stop
her.  Besides, he was on fire for her.  Amazingly his hard-on had pushed above
his waistband and each brush against her firm abdomen was bringing him closer to
coming.  Her massive breasts were pushing against his chest, and although he
couldn't move his hands to touch them, he couldn't help imagining what they must
look like.  How large were they?  What did her nipples look like?  How round and
firm must they be?  The images were swimming in his mind.  Oh god!  He couldn't
stop himself and spurted all over her stomach.  He couldn't believe it.  She'd
be so angry!
 
Mary felt Brad clutch at her, then a warm sensation against just above her navel
and then he relaxed slightly.  Already?!  Her annoyance passed quickly.  It was
just on her skin so it didn't stain anything.  More important, it proved to her
that he didn't find her new size and muscularity at all a turn off.  On the
contrary! And it was so cute the way he pressed against her and it didn't hurt
at all.  Not at all like the time she'd been with Adam, in the car, and he'd
almost broken her shoulder urging her on with a hand job.  She released Brad
from the kiss, feeling his enthusiasm flag for the moment anyway. 
 
"Well, I guess YOU'RE feeling pretty good," she remarked.
 
He blushed.  "I -- I'm sorry.  I couldn't help it," he said apologetically.
 
"Oh, I know that!" she said putting him down carefully.  "Looks like your shirt
got a little dirty, and I'm sticky.  Do you think we should clean up?"
 
He looked down at it in dismay and embarrassment.  "Shit!"
 
She put a reassuring arm on his shoulder.  "Don't worry, Brad.  I'm not angry."
 
He looked up.  "You're not?"
 
"Should I be?"  He shook his head.  "Well then.  I think I need a shower."  She
took a step away from him then stopped and reached behind her and unhooked her
top.  "Wanna come?"  She pulled her arms out of the straps and let the bikini
drop to the floor.  She looked down at herself, then turned slowly to let him
see too.
 
Brad stared at her as in a trance.  He had never in his life imagined breasts
like hers.  So large, but perfectly shaped, the nipples large and pink, and as
he looked at them, they quickly became erect and rose slightly and his dick
stiffened in sympathy.  He pulled his own shirt off but then became self
conscious about his thin chest and unmuscled arms.  He crossed his arms in front
of his chest in embarrassment and turned away.
 
"Awww, Brad," Mary said.  "What's wrong?"
 
"It's just ... LOOK at me!" he exclaimed.
 
"I can't, not when you're hiding yourself," she said matter-of-factly.
 
He turned around slowly.  "I look so ... weak."
 
The girls had agreed last night what their story would be.  For Brad, honesty
would be the best policy.  Of course they had a different plan for Matt.  "Well,
you are.  Compared with how you used to be.  And compared with me.  Or with any
girl." 
 
"But how?  Why?" he said in anguished tones.  Mary tried hard not to laugh.  He
was waving his hands around, but the gestures, which would have looked bold if
he had been his old height, now looked comical, especially when his arms tensed
and produced only the slightest tightening of his biceps.  "I'm supposed to be
the stronger one!" he insisted.
 
"According to ...." she said, then paused.  He sputtered.  He wanted to say
something like God's law or the natural order but he knew he didn't really know
what he was talking about.  "Don't worry, Brad.  I still think you're cute. 
I've always thought so, you know."
 
"But this is crazy!  This can't be happening!"
 
Mary lifted her arms.  Her biceps expanded and her already firm breasts stuck
out further as her pecs flexed.  "Is it really SO bad, Brad?  I mean, you and I
can have a very nice shower together.  Why don't we try that, and we can talk
about it some more later?"  She lifted her bare foot and gently massaged his
rising erection.  "Maybe 'he' wants to get a word in too?" she added
suggestively.
 
Brad exhaled loudly.  "Well ... I -- all right."  He followed her upstairs.
 
 
Chapter 4
 
Kate yawned.  "Was it really NECESSARY that we start so early?" she complained,
leaning back on the headrest and closing her eyes. 
 
Ashley drove on to the mall, carefully checking her mirror before changing lanes
and then turning into the parking garage.  Once safely in her spot she turned to
Kate.  "Yes it was.  Emma told me Matt was out all night, but Brad will be up
early.  We have to be ready before Emma starts making the changes so we can
observe everything.  It might affect what we decide to do this afternoon."
 
Kate sighed.  "Only if we can start observing at Starbucks."
 
"I guess so," Ashley said.  She got out of the car, locking it after Kate closed
her door and then skipped to keep up with her taller friend.  Even though she
claimed it was too early for her, Kate was put together immaculately, every hair
in place, her make-up perfect, her light pink skirt with thin white stripes
perfectly set off by her short top, exposing a two inch strip of skin above her
waist, and a matching belt and hairpiece.  Ashley looked down at her own tan
slacks and black pullover.  How did Kate find all those things to match so well?
 It was a kind of genius, Ashley thought, one she certainly didn't have.
 
It was nine o'clock.  They stood on line for coffee.  "Could you order for me,
Ash?  I'll get us a table.  I'll have a tall, skinny latte, half-decaf, with
extra foam."
 
Ashley looked at her friend's slender waist.  "Um, you know Kate, our bodies are
going to change anyway this morning.  You can have regular milk -- if you want. 
I'm sure it won't make a difference."
 
"Oh really?  I hadn't thought of that.  Well, then make it a grande latte, extra
foam, and with an extra shot of espresso.  Live dangerously!  What are you
having?"
 
"Just a short drip."  Kate looked at her in surprise.  "I don't want to be
peeing all morning.  We didn't really talk about what the changes would do to
our bladders, and mine --
 
"Sure, sure, Ashley.  I get it."  Kate turned and laughed to herself.  As hard
as they worked on her, Ashley would always be a bit of a nerd. 
 
Ashley came back with the drinks and the two watched the stores open up.  The
mall already had the usual crowd milling about: purposeful shoppers hurrying
from one store to another, window shoppers, families, and of course, a large
population of young people who spent more time observing or talking to each
other than shopping -- the mall was as much about display and socialization as
buying. At a bench in the mall, for example, a group of high school boys
ostentatiously wearing their varsity jackets had several girls giggling and
flirting with them enthusiastically. Groups of girls and boys sat or walked
together, with the girls dressed in the usual tight or revealing clothes
guaranteed to catch the boys' attention, while the guys seemed relatively
slovenly, deliberate or otherwise. Nothing seemed any different than usual. Not
one of them knew that their whole lives were about to change.
 
Ashley took out her notebook.  "Do you notice anything so far?"
 
"Well, Sharon Bosman is wearing some really hot shorts, and from the way they're
walking around I think she's going out with Kevin Mell now.  And there's a dress
at Hit Parade that would really look good on -- um, no, not really.  You?"
 
Ashley shook her head.  "I wonder when Emma's going to start.  She should have
told us, or we should have had some kind of signal."
 
"Ash, relax.  This is just for fun, right?  Emma's doing all the hard work. 
Just sit back and enjoy the show, ok?"
 
Ashley sighed.  It was just nine-fifteen, now.  Maybe she WAS taking this a bit
too seriously.  But it was so exciting.  She sipped her coffee and looked out
the tall glass window.  Suddenly she had a brief unsettled feeling, as though a
double espresso had just kicked in.  Kate must have felt it too, because she
made a little noise and turned to Ashley.  The two girls looked at each other
breathlessly.
 
"You felt it?"  Ashley asked, scribbling the time in her notebook.
 
"I sure did!  That was some kick!"
 
They looked at each other eagerly.  "Y-you're a little bustier, Kate, and your
shoulders.  I can tell they're a little broader."  Ashley looked down at herself
and, losing her scientific objectivity for a moment, squealed.  "Ohmygod!  Look
at me!  I've got breasts!"  Then she blushed.
 
Kate laughed.  Everyone at Starbucks was looking at Ashley.  "I think we better
take a walk around, Ash.  Somebody might think having breasts has made you lose
your mind!" 
 
Ashley blushed a deeper red and slid off the stool.  Her feet hit the ground
sooner than she'd expected.  Was she already taller?  She scribbled in her
notebook, then Kate clamped her hand over it and pulled Ashley along.  "Stop
writing and look around!" she insisted.  "Hey, I think I can see some changes
already, Ash."  She pulled Ashley toward Hit Parade.  "That dress I noticed? 
Look how it's more open on top, and the shoulders are wider too.  And look at
Sharon Bosman's legs.  They look great!" she added in a whisper. They walked
toward the Go-Go Sports shop. As usual, the varsity boys were hanging out in
front on a bench, waiting for the girls to walk by.  "Look Ash, the jocks we
saw.  They don't seem as intimidating, do they?  And I could have sworn there
were more of them there when we came in."
 
"Really?  They still look pretty big to me."
 
Kate shook her head.  "Uh-uh.  And, they seemed to be looking around more, like
they're not as confident.  And how many girls are hanging around them?"
 
"There aren't any.  You're really observant," Ashley said, admiringly.  "But
they're still all wearing those 'letter' jackets."  She studied them more
closely. Did they actually look a little smaller?  She guessed that they didn't
seem as bulky or imposing in their upper body development. And now that she
noticed it, some of the girls and women sitting nearby were larger. Several of
the teen girls wore the usual attention-grabbing belly shirts, but now they
seemed even tighter, stretched across their chests by slightly larger breasts
and shoulders. At least one woman sitting and reading a fitness magazine seemed
even obviously muscular, her tight top and short sleeves emphasizing her build.
 
"Hey, look at her!  Do you think we've got muscles now too?" Kate suggested.
 
"I guess we must have some," Ashley responded.  She looked around to make sure
no one was looking and tentatively brought her arm into a curl.  She could feel
a small, but nicely rounded biceps bulge. Not huge and hardly "unnatural," but
definitely more than she'd ever had before.  "Kate!  I've got a muscle!"
 
Kate smiled and then examined herself cautiously. She'd picked her outfit in
part so that she'd be able to see any changes more easily. At first, she didn't
notice anything, but then, she saw that her legs looked a little more defined --
stronger, and maybe even a touch longer. She flexed her calves slowly, surprised
to see a prominent, diamond-shaped muscle appear.  "Whoa!"
 
And then they felt another jolt.  They both gasped.  "Did you --" Ashley began.
 
"I know! I know! I'd bet anything that -- hey, look at this!" Kate flexed her
legs again and her muscle was even larger and more defined.  She pulled her top
up a little, revealing a flatter, tauter abdomen and then pulled it back down,
awestruck.  "It's amazing! I haven't done anything.  And now I'm a real
hardbody!" She looked around. "They're all just going about their business, like
nothing's happening.  How can they not notice?!"
 
"I think the way it works is the changes are being made on such a fundamental
level that all of history, from the beginning of time, has been changed as well.
 Just imagine.  Maybe women now have always had the right to vote!  The whole
structure of society might be totally different, like marriage customs, property
distribution, child-rearing practices.  I mean, think of all the traditionally
male-dominated societies, like Saudi Arabia.  I wonder if --"
 
"Ashley!  Who CARES about Saudi Arabia?  Look at my dress in the Hit Parade! 
It's just a couple of pieces of cloth on top around the bust, and look at the
way the hips flare!  I can't believe they'd DARE to sell that here!  It's like
rape bait!"
 
"Maybe not.  Not if women are strong enough to protect themselves," Ashley
argued.
 
Kate looked at her, considering the point.  "Yeah, maybe.  Cool!  Let's look
around some more."  They walked down to the other end of the mall to see what
was happening.  "Hey, look at the jocks!  I mean, they're not just hanging
around.  There they are, Bobby and Shawn and Tommy.  They look so different!" 
The two girls looked at the three, who were no longer wearing varsity jackets
but were now dressed in colorful shirts and leather pants that emphasized the
bulges in their crotches.  They walked past groups of girls who laughed and
pointed at them, some of whom ran up and grabbed an arm or a leg and then ran
away giggling.  The boys didn't seem to mind, mostly, although they did shy away
from one tall, not very attractive girl, who held on to Shawn very persistently.
 "That's Brenda Carron," Kate said.  "She was always tall and awkward, but now
she's over six feet.  Look how thick her arms are.  She looks so much stronger
than any of the boys!"
 
"Well, girls mature earlier than boys and Brenda was tall even in fifth grade,
remember?  She's seventeen now, and if she's been working out for seven years
she could be pretty strong by now."
 
They felt another brief wave. Kate could almost feel her muscles harden beneath
her skin, and her clothes became tighter, gathering around her muscles as though
they were designed to show them off just as much as her figure. It almost felt
like she had tensed them, but the increased hardness and size simply persisted
without any effort on her part.  Her legs also seemed to stretch slightly.
 
A quick survey of the crowd again showed no one else noticing anything unusual.
They seemed to be more mixed groups now, the boys and girls interacting on an
easier, friendlier basis, with less macho posturing by the boys and less
coquettish giggling by the girls but in most of them, the girls were the tallest
members. Their clothes were different as well.  The boys' clothes were much
tighter in the crotch, clearly showing the bulge of their seemingly larger
packages.  Kate guessed that some of them might even be "stuffing" their pants,
or perhaps they were actually bigger there in fact.  She wasn't sure what Emma
was up to with these changes, although Mary had been very clear that this is
what she wanted out it.  The girls wearing sleeveless tops all had defined
biceps, while the boys seemed slightly less muscular.  Generally it was more
casual and athletic gear for the girls, and more stylish, colorful clothes for
the boys. 
 
"You know what's interesting?" Ashley said.  "See how the boys are all clustered
in groups now?  And how the girls are roaming around in twos, kind of like
they're hunting the boys?  There's Brenda.  She must be almost 6'3".  Look at
her shoulders!"
 
Kate laughed.  "Poor Shawn!  She's cornered him.  But it's like she's also got
him completely mesmerized by her breasts!  You can see his erection pushing out
his pants.  He certainly is well-endowed.  Speaking of which, you've got
yourself a real pair, Ashley!"
 
"Kate!"  Ashley looked down at the cone-like objects that protruded from her
chest and said quietly, "I know.  They feel so weird!  But it's ... nice."
 
"You really ought to be wearing something other than that black pullover to show
them off."  Kate looked down at her own ensemble, which had gotten skimpier and
skimpier with each change.  Now it was just a four inch strip of the same pink
top that circled around her breasts, leaving her muscular arms and slender
abdomen bare, and a pink micro-miniskirt with subtle white stripes, which
emphasized the dramatic curves of her hips and her strong and shapely legs. 
Ashley's clothes hadn't changed at all.  "Let's find something for you."
 
"But we're supposed to be investigating, Kate!" Ashley protested.
 
"So, we'll investigate the store.  I mean, shopping, fashion, that's an
important part of the mall experience, right?  It's not ALL about checking out
the boys."  Kate winked at Ashley, who reluctantly agreed. 
 
They went to a store that catered to teenagers, and thus was well stocked with
everything from timeless jeans to the latest, ephemeral fashions. The store
layout seemed slightly off, especially in the girls' section.  Kate knew the
store well, but she saw several racks of clothes that she couldn't remember, and
a surprising amount of space devoted to athletic gear. Even more strangely, the
posters and ads didn't feature the usual waif-like or anorexic size zeroes.
Instead, most of the girls pictured seemed quite buff, and many were
photographed in poses or activities that emphasized a strong upper body and an
aggressive posture toward the boy, who was invariably grinning, but off balance,
as though ready to be caught by the girl.
 
Across the store, in the boys' section, there were more changes. More stylish
clothes, with bright colors and clinging fabrics, and far fewer sports jerseys,
as though the boys had finally caught some fashion sense.
 
Or, perhaps, Kate mused, they were dressing to please those who did.
 
A few boys there were trying on jeans, and Kate was struck with how much tighter
the legs and behind were cut than usual. She also couldn't help noticing that
the fronts bulged out a lot more than usual. Was that just the cut too, or was
it something else? She remembered what Mary had kept talking about as her
request if the tables were turned, and wondered how boys would feel if they knew
they were on their way to becoming sex objects? Undersized in every way but one
that mattered most to girls.
 
She had picked up a skirt and top for Ashley to try on when she felt the wave of
energy pass through her again. Instantly, she looked around. The girls shopping
around her had all experienced sudden growth spurts, and they now stood much
higher than the clothing racks, while the boys across the way were almost
hidden. The boys jeans had changed again, to a softer color, though they were
cut the same provocative way. The boys had shoes with thicker soles, to give
them a little extra height. She saw some new accessories in the boys' section,
featuring soft sweaters in pastel colors, and some knickknacks in bright colors
that it was hard to imagine boys wearing voluntarily -- headbands, wristbands,
belts.  And most of them were wearing earrings. The girls around her, on the
other hand, although still talking happily about the clothes' styles, seemed to
be shopping as much for durability and wearability as for show. Many of the
clothes, especially the shorts and shirts, had considerable elastic qualities to
allow for the flexing of muscles, or, even better, to emphasize them. Their
clothes had names emphasizing ruggedness and strength, like "Marauder" and
"Valkyrie" and they were cut to emphasize long legs, powerful and buxom chests
and bulging arms. Indeed, she saw that the skirt and shirt in her hands had
jumped a size and were made with thicker fabric.  Kate's skirt now left her legs
almost completely bare and had shrunk into a mere ruffle around her waist.
 
She hurried Ashley into a changing room and the two of them burst out laughing. 
"Did you see that?" Kate cried.  "Those boys look so small, like they're still
in middle school!  And you, Ashley.  You must be a D-cup now!"
 
"I know," Ashley said.  She blushed and looked down.  "Yeah," she said proudly. 
She shed the dark pullover and put on the violet-colored elastic vest Kate had
picked for her.  It tied in front and back, leaving her arms and most of her
torso open, showing parts of her new sixpack, her round shoulders and muscular
back and arms, then changed her loose tan slacks into stylish pink bicycle
shorts.  Ashley was amazed at how long and strong her legs were. They looked
like a model's -- a fitness model at that. Her calves were several inches longer
with real diamonds of muscle that bulged when she stood on her toes. Her thighs
bulged even at rest, adding extra curves that emphasized her femininity. Her
hips were wider, but her waist was thinner and her ass was firm, giving her a
perfect bubble butt nicely set off by the skin-tight panties. The vest
emphasized the bare expanse of her stomach, which had flattened and firmed. 
Then she suddenly realized that she wasn't wearing a bra!  It had disappeared in
one of the shifts.  She'd never really needed one when she was an A cup, but now
she was three cup sizes larger.  She looked back down at her vest in horror,
until she saw how high and pert her breasts were without it. Even though
significantly larger, her expanded and stronger chest muscles lifted them higher
and more easily than ever. She looked at herself in amazement, then couldn't
resist trying the sort of flexed arm, double-biceps pose she had seen in muscle
magazines. She giggled at the result. Her upper body was amazing -- larger and
stronger than just about any boy's she had seen. Her shoulders seemed double
their former width, and her biceps were firm and round, like a couple of
baseballs. Her chest muscles swelled and ridged, making her breasts pop up even
higher and prouder than before. She switched poses and made her thigh muscles
bulge and dance like a running back -- indeed, she looked even bigger and
stronger than Matt ever had been.  For a moment she imagined comparing muscles
with him.  She co!
 uld just
 imagine his reaction.  On the other hand, her breasts were so much bigger maybe
he wouldn't mind.  And it's not as though he would find other girls with smaller
muscles.
 
"Well, I've never seen YOU look at yourself like THAT before, Ash!  One might
think you're getting a little vain!"  Kate winked.
 
"Um, I was just, uh, doing some research," Ashley said, remembering suddenly she
wasn't alone and hugely embarrassed to be caught out like that by Kate.  "I was
just thinking that if I'm this strong, uh, think how much stronger the other
girls must be.  I mean, I'm still smaller than you are.  I still must be pretty
small -- for a girl I mean."  But while she was saying this she was thinking of
the new Matt.  If he was like the other boys they'd seen in the store he
wouldn't even be close to her in size or strength now.  For some reason, that
made her giggle even more.
 
"Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly what you were thinking, Ash!"  Kate said.  "You
always get that lusty expression when you're thinking about other girls." 
Ashley blushed bright red.  "But really, Ash, all kidding aside, this is all
about fun, isn't it?  You ought to let yourself go a little, indulge yourself. 
We have this fantastic opportunity.  Let's enjoy it!"
 
"I know.  You're right, Kate.  It takes a little getting used to -- not being so
small."  Ashley said and let Kate adjust the new clothes, loving the way they
stretched and hugged her body. She realized that unless her personality had
changed, her muscles had probably developed even without any real exercise. She
couldn't help wondering.  "You know, if a small woman like me can grow muscle
this way without even trying, what do female athletes look like now?  And just
look at this." She pulled her sleeve up to flex, showing off a 17 inch biceps
bulge.
 
"That's nothing," Kate boasted, flexing her own arms in their tight, short
sleeves and raising a hard, dome of muscle, a good inch and a half larger than
Ashley's. "Feel that!"
 
Ashley did. It was amazingly firm, harder than any muscle she'd imagined and
wider than her hand.
 
"Um Kate, after I pay for this, let's go to Go-Go Sports.  I think it'll be
interesting."
 
Kate sighed.  Ashley never wanted just to have fun.  But then, with the changes
going on, that store would probably be good for a few kicks, so the two headed
to the sporting goods store across the way.

[zarina]

Go-Go Sports catered to the usual wide array of activities, but had always
featured a Nautilus weight machine in the front of the store, flanked by posters
of magnificently muscled men and less bulgy but certainly fit-looking women.
Now, the machine was gone, replaced by gymnastics equipment and pictures of
muscular women soaring over the uneven parallel bars and twisting gracefully on
the rings, which used to be only a mens' event.  There were other changes. There
were more women than men working there; before it had been 80%.  There was far
more clothing for women, and it was designed for just about every sport,
although with fashion labels rather than team names and insignia. Those were
reserved for the men's clothing, which in terms of quality was a poor imitation,
clearly made for show and to play to a fantasy-like sense of possessing the
strength and fame of a true athlete, rather than for real sport.  The clientele
were evenly distributed between young men and women, but the women were handling
the equipment, trying it out for weight and balance, while the men seemed more
to be playing with it than really assessing it, in the mean time stealing
frequent looks at the women in the store. 
 
"Can I help you?" one woman asked as they came in. Kate couldn't help noticing
that she was quite tall and fit, with short sleeves that emphasized healthy
biceps and a shirt drawn tight by both her powerful chest and prominent breasts.
 
"What happened to the weight machines?" Kate asked, indulging her curiosity.
They were there when they arrived at the mall early that morning.
 
"We always keep them in the back," the woman answered, pointing.  "They're too
ugly for up front, don't you think?"
 
Kate and Ashley nodded, obligingly.  Sure enough, in a back corner of the store
there was a room filled with free weights and machines, though fewer in number
than usual. Two women were trying them out, talking to each other about which
was better.  A single sales poster showed a man and woman working out together,
and Kate immediately noticed that while both were in good shape, the woman was
larger and with more impressive muscles, emphasized by the curling exercise she
was doing, while the man was performing sit-ups on the incline.
 
"Can I show you something there?" the woman continued.
 
"Actually, I came in for a new workout outfit," Kate said. She couldn't help
looking around the changed store and decided to ask a few more questions. "I
could use a new tennis racquet, too," she added. She looked around curiously at
the new store layout. "Where are the women's racquets?"
 
The salesclerk looked puzzled. "Women's racquets?  Well, we do  have the
Williams' Power model.  All the gals seem to want them.  They're all right, I
guess, if you have a 150 mph serve, but if you want my opinion, for most
amateurs there are better choices.  I can show you some that will cost less and
do more for your game." She indicated an area with a couple of boys trying
models out.
 
"But the boys are using those."
 
"So?  Don't let that put you off."
 
"But  don't you have a separate area for the women's equipment?" Ashley asked in
surprise.
 
"Why would we do that?" the clerk answered, obviously perplexed.  "This is the
regular gals' equipment.  Most of our sales are to women, of course, but there
are always some men and boys there trying to use it instead of their own lighter
models.  We can't exactly stop them from trying it, especially if they buy it."
 
"Yes, but --" Kate faltered. "It always seemed like because guys and gals are
different, shouldn't the equipment reflect that?"  Kate suggested. "Stores
should lay out their equipment the same way."
 
The woman looked unconvinced. "I guess."
 
Kate gasped slightly as another surge from the changes passed through her,
grunting as she seemed to be rising higher and higher above the floor.  She
looked over at Ashley's shocked expression.  Why, little Ashley was now well
over six feet tall and looked like she could outmuscle the Terminator.  Even
better, her breasts were easily a DD size.  The little vest she'd bought her was
now held together with a small elastic strap and had molded itself tightly
around her bosom and chest muscles.  What a blast!  Meanwhile, her own top was
now just a strip of cloth to hold her bust in place, with a light skirt barely
6" long flouncing down from her waist.  Nice!  These changes were such a rush!   
As soon as she recovered, she looked around the store in eager curiosity.
 
The saleswoman still stood next to them, completely oblivious to the fact that
she had just grown a full six inches in height. Her shoulders were quite wide
now, and she sported thick, hard biceps that stretched her shirt sleeves
impressively. Her breasts were like soccer balls beneath her tight shirt, and
Kate wondered what size they might be now. EE, maybe? The woman didn't seem to
notice, and though they had all agreed that this was another area they wanted to
become larger, Kate was beginning to wonder if Emma had overdone it. Her own
breasts seemed huge.  On the other hand, the girls in the store didn't seem to
be unhappy about their size. And in fact, her whole body felt lighter and more
energetic than ever.
 
"Are you girls all right?" she asked, noting their self-absorbed expressions. 
Kate and Ashley nodded.  "Well, the racquets are right over here."
 
Kate was confused.  The scene had changed completely.  "But weren't the boys
just playing with them?" she started to protest. 
 
"Boys?  Playing with the tennis racquets!!"  The saleswoman paused. "I don't
THINK so!" she snorted.  "We wouldn't allow that!  Our equipment is high
quality, and we don't allow boys to handle valuable racquets they wouldn't buy. 
Of course, sometimes when their mothers or girlfriends bring them in they like
to try them, you know, to feel what they're like, or maybe to pretend a little,
and we can't really stop them.  But they wouldn't DARE just come in by
themselves and use them.  THOSE boys have been fooling with the badminton sets
for half an hour."  She shrugged.
 
"So, I guess boys don't play football either?" Ashley said tentatively.
 
The saleswoman looked at Kate sympathetically, as if to say, I guess your little
friend isn't much for sports, is she?  She looked at the boys and smiled. "I
guess some boys like to play too, but it's not really a sport when they do it. 
It's more like they play AT football, if you know what I mean?" she winked
conspiratorially. "But seriously, they're much better off when they play their
own sports, like badminton, short golf and light volleyball. And of course the
sports they're best at: track and swimming.  And darts."  Ashley looked at her,
wanting an explanation.  "Well, their straighter and lighter bone structure and
less heavily muscled bodies actually give them a small advantage in short races,
although of course their lack of strength and endurance holds them back in the
middle and longer distances, and they're not allowed to compete in the real
distance tests.  Their poor, weak little hearts would just burst and we can't
allow them to take that kind of chance, because we all know of course they'd
try."  She shrugged as if to say 'the little dears.'  "And darts of course uses
their spatial sense to its best advantage and requires very little in the way of
physical strength.  It's nice that they can point to some things they can do
better than we can, isn't it?  Like addition and subtraction in their heads. 
It's not terribly useful -- with calculators and all -- but it's something.   
The important thing though is they have to be protected for their own good. 
That's why we keep the boys' things separate, so they don't use equipment
they're not suited to and hurt themselves."  She indicated a small, lightly
stocked area where they boys were and then the pink line around the part of the
store where most of the equipment was kept. "Sometimes a guy will come in to
this part of the store and get all huffy when we escort them outside the
pinkline, but it's for their own good, you know?  The mature ones understand
that, but at your age they can get very emotional and unruly."   She grinned. 
"It's a go!
 od thing
 they're so small, isn't it.  Pinklines are great but we can't have them
everywhere."
 
"Um, I guess," Ashley answered, wondering just how much more things were going
to change. She looked around the store in surprise. Almost all of the posters
now were of women, playing virtually every sport, with the models looking
positively ripped and Amazonian. The only men's pictures were for running gear,
with the models looking quite slim, and for ... darts.
 
"Oh, my manager's calling me.  The workout clothing is right here.  Let me know
if you want to try a few of the racquets.  I'll be over there."  The saleswoman
left.
 
"Emma must be having a lot of fun with Matt now!"  Kate laughed.
 
"I hope he's okay,"  Ashley replied, looking down at her biceps in amazement and
then over at the boys who were looking at a poster of a female basketball
player.  "Ohmygod!  Isn't that Kim Russell?" 
 
Kate turned to look.  "'Muscles' Russell is what it says, Ramapo High School. 
Hey, it must be her!  She looks amazing!  Look at those biceps!"
 
Ashley stared at the poster.  "She's huge!  I guess I'm still sort of a shrimp,"
she said, sighing.  She was also still worrying about Matt.  "I think we should
get going.  It's almost 11.  We told Emma we'd be over by noon."
 
Kate nodded.  "OK.  Give me five minutes."  She felt through the workout suits,
picking them up and holding them against her chest and then sighed.  "Forget it.
 I can't buy anything for myself that quickly just now.  It'll take too long.  I
really don't know my body well enough now.  I have to wait until I know what I
look like."
 
"But can't you just check your size and buy something?" 
 
Kate sighed.  "Ashley, that's not at ALL how to shop."  Ashley looked down. 
"Hey, don't worry about it.  It's just something you have to learn.  I'll help
you."  Ashley managed a small smile.  "Come on then, let's show off our new
selves a little before we have to go to Emma's."
 
Kate put her arm around Ashley and they left and walked around the mall. Ashley
at first felt self-conscious, especially since most of the women, including
Kate, were taking such pride in showing off their well-muscled bodies. All the
girls wore tight shirts and short sleeves, though there were still a lot of
belly shirts, especially on the younger girls. They were even skimpier than
usual, but instead of being designed to flash a little skin and the occasional
navel ring, they ended several inches above the navel to emphasize strong hard
stomachs and prominent abs.  And all of the women sported bulging biceps and
thick, powerful leg muscles. It seemed to Ashley, that the amount of muscle on
the women and girls was so universal that it had to be simply another secondary
sexual characteristic, emerging almost automatically from maturation, rather
than through exercise. The male/female difference was not as extreme in the
younger children, but even among them the boys were thinner, smaller and
decidedly more cautious than their larger sisters, with their thicker arms and
chest, even though their biceps weren't yet fully formed.  The differences
started to become more pronounced for girls just reaching puberty.  The early
blooming 10 year olds already had more muscle than their fathers and nearly all
the 12 year old girls were stronger and taller than adult men.  She observed how
grown men watched warily as groups of laughing, swaggering junior high girls
walked by them.  Three times in less than ten minutes, she saw a girl grab a
man, secure him in a hold and then laughingly play with his body, easily
dominating him, perhaps kissing or hugging him, licking his neck or just
tickling him.  One even fondled him through his thin pants.  The man would
struggle ineffectually, but half heartedly, knowing he had no chance of
physically preventing her from doing whatever she wanted.  They all seemed
slightly embarrassed afterwards, especially if the girl had made him cum and
stain his pants, but there was no violen!
 ce and n
o anger or shouting.  No one interfered or called security.  In fact, the other
men appeared to look on with some envy.
 
"I'm amazed that's allowed," Ashley said.  "You'd think that with all that
saleslady said about protecting boys there'd be some laws against that kind of
harassment."
 
Kate shrugged.  "I don't know.  My guess is the guys don't really mind.  They
don't look like they're getting hurt.  And look how they're staring at the
girls.  If they didn't want the attention, wouldn't they be keeping to
themselves more or even just stay at home?  Maybe being the weaker sex is
different for guys than for girls.  I mean, they can't get pregnant.  Are they
really going to complain just because some girl gets their pants sticky?"
 
Ashley looked at them and immediately felt it in the looks they returned.  Their
intense interest, almost worship, of her body was intoxicating.  But contrary to
her whole life experience, the boys weren't intimidating or aggressive.  For all
their interest, they seemed docile, not daring to make the first move.  They
kept in groups, talking together, their attention was easily diverted by each
passing girl.  When a girl came over to talk, the boys took a decidedly less
active role, often just listening, nodding frequently and laughing
appreciatively at the girls' jokes, while looking hungrily at their large,
powerful and curvy bodies.
 
"You know, I think I'm going to like this!"  Kate exclaimed as they passed a
newsstand, which they had always known as the sleaziest in the town. 
 
Ashley pulled her to a stop.  "Kate!  Look here!"
 
Kate looked bored.  "Ashley, I told you I wasn't interested in Saudi Arabia!"
 
"No, no, look what's not here."  The many thinly-disguised babe magazines and
macho titles were all missing, replaced by sports magazines showing the strength
and accomplishments of the top female baseball players of the week. There were
numerous women's titles, all directed at success in the business world, managing
husbands properly, and, of course, fashion.  But the women's fashion magazines
were matched by similar male titles featured nattily dressed men, and had covers
promising "The Clothes That Will Catch Her Eye!" "Making That Evening Special
for Her" or "She Grabs You Once:  Make Her Do It Again ... And Again!"  They was
even a magazine familiarly titled "Playboy," but on the cover was a man in a
tuxedo, with the blurb "Keeping Her Interested: Dressing Up Instead Of Down" and
"Playboy's Sex Tips: The G Spot, Part XXII."
 
Almost all the sports titles featured women on the covers. One showed a powerful
blonde wearing a red batting helmet connecting on her swing while her biceps
almost exploded off the page. Underneath, it said "Becky Mills: Can she beat the
Babe?" An insert showed an old black and white photo of a player from the 20's,
but instead of the expected Babe Ruth, it was a woman named Babe Didrickson! 
Even the baggy, grey, pinstriped flannel uniform, however, couldn't hide the
fact that it was a Babe Didrickson who seemed twice the size of any woman she
had ever seen.
 
There was Cosmo, but the as-always gorgeous and partially clad model on the
cover was anything but primped. She was sweating, covered in a thin sheen of
perspiration, and her hair in a simple ponytail. She was also pumping iron, a
huge dumbbell raised in her hand and 25 inch biceps straining, dressed in a
grey-flannel half-shirt, barely covering her gigantic breasts, her stomach
ripped with a powerful 12-pack of muscle. Underneath it said: "Rock Hard! Our
New Music And Exercise Guide" Other articles trumpeted: "The New Cosmo Diet: Add
20 Pounds In Two Months!" "Sex Guide: Have You Tried Him On Top?" and "Stoked
And Stacked: Breathing Exercises To Make You Bigger And Better."
 
"Wow!" was all Kate could say.
 
They happened to glance back at the food court. They saw the same teenaged boys
as before, but they were standing now, giggling and smiling fawningly over a
couple of smirking teenaged girls. They were just part of a group though now,
and the reason for their adoration was obvious: the girls wore their varsity
athletic jackets very proudly.
 
"You know," Kate said smiling and leading the way out. "I think I'm ready to go
to Emma's now.  I'm almost as curious about how Matt's doing as you are.
 

[zarina]

Chapter 5
 
Matt awoke with his headache slightly diminished but still feeling very woozy. 
What a bizarre dream he'd had.  But as he opened his eyes he had a shock.  His
room looked completely different.  Gone were his football sports posters,
replaced by a picture of an unbelievably busty and muscular Anna Kournikova
one-handedly lifting a man by his belt so that she could kiss him.  It was such
an obvious fake.  He'd get Emma back for this!  He heard splashing outside in
the pool again and the voices of her friends.  It was already 1:00!  He kept his
t-shirt on and pulled on a swimsuit.  What were all of these bright colored
suits doing in his drawer!  Another bone to pick with his mother, who was always
trying to replace his favorite clothes with something more to her taste.  But
this was going too far!  He was still groggy, but he pulled it on.  At least it
showed off his package well.  Just let Emma try to complain about the way he was
dressing.
 
He strode angrily through the house, noticing other changes in decor.  The
bright colored carpeting, the pastel wall-covering, the large screen TV gone,
replaced by a smaller set and two comfortable reading chairs.  He couldn't
believe he hadn't noticed all these things yesterday.  He was absolutely
furious.  It was time to strike back at somebody.  And luckily, he had a whole
flock of female targets that were already in his sights.  As he stood up and
brushed himself off, his thoughts became darker than ever.  He glanced out the
window.  Excellent.  Emma and two of her friends were there already, decked out
in bikinis and playing in the water.  It was the perfect setup.  After all, he
had every right to swim in the pool as well.  He'd made that clear enough
yesterday.  And if they happened to get in the way, well, it wouldn't be his
fault.  With luck and a couple of fortuitous "accidents" he'd not only be able
to ruin her party, but get free peeks at their tits as well.
 
He opened the fridge to help himself to one of the sodas Emma had set aside for
her party, then decided to have a quick snack as well.  The door on the fridge
was stuck, and he had to pull on it hard to get it open.  Another stupid change
in the house.  This was so pathetic.  He sat at the table and turned on the TV,
switching immediately to ESPN to see the game highlights.
 
He was shocked to see that they were featuring some baseball game that had both
men and women players, obviously some amateur or promotional league event.  Or
perhaps it was a women's league that had decided to import a few male players as
ringers, since most of the players were obviously female.  Strangely enough,
however, the male "ringers," far from looking imposing, looked shorter and
thinner than their female teammates.  Indeed, as they showed a few highlights,
it seemed that on one team, the NY "Highlanders," only the shortstop and third
basemen were men, and they seemed to be mainly for defensive ability.  All three
outfielders were women, which was obvious because of their bounteous breasts,
although their bodies otherwise more closely resembled Barry Bonds.  They were
playing the Boston Beaneaters, and Matt was surprised to see the professional
look to their play and uniforms.
 
The woman on the mound had a motion indistinguishable from a major league
veteran, and seemed to throw really hard.
 
For a girl, anyway.  Matt consoled himself with that thought as he saw an
apparently overmatched Boston player, a man, flail helplessly at the fastball,
and they announced the pitcher's 9th strikeout of the game.  No doubt they only
let the smallest and weakest men play so they wouldn't show up the women.
 
In disgust, he switched to ESPN2, only to find they were apparently doing
highlights from a WNBA game.  He started to hit the remote automatically, though
he briefly noted the women players were bigger and playing much better than he
had ever seen before.  Maybe the league wasn't a joke after all.  He saw one of
the women make a spectacular dunk and stood a moment in shock.  It was a big
deal for women to dunk, and he'd never seen anything like that one short of the
all-star show.   Yet the announcers, both women, while properly appreciative,
seemed to feel the play was no big deal.
 
He turned to MTV.  A female hip-hop video was playing, the singer a muscular
woman dressed in leather.  The beat was indistinguishable from the
male-dominated music he was used to, but in obvious parody, instead of the
scantily clad women dancing and simulating sex, this woman was surrounded by men
wearing tight clothes and obviously worshiping her.  The men were short and
slim, their arms looking puny next to hers, and wore tight pants to emphasize
their behinds, which they pushed out unashamedly for the camera. Disgusting. 
Why would anyone make a video like that? 
 
He switched through the other channels.  An action movie, featuring a
tough-talking woman and her male companion who seemed to do little other than
stand around encouraging her while looking good.  A game show, with a woman
host, and several men jumping giddily to get her attention.  A cartoon show.  He
paused again.  It featured a character her didn't recognize - a wisecracking
rabbit, very much in the Bugs tradition, but female - tormenting a hulking but
slow-witted woman fighter.  Weird.
 
He felt another bout of dizziness, this one severe enough that he sat down. When
he looked up, the channel seemed to have switched itself to another sports
station, but with the unrecognized call letters PSN.  There was another baseball
game in progress, also featuring NY and Boston teams, but these were entirely
female, the "Amazons" vs the "Minutewomen."   What was really amazing was the
venue: as the camera panned the stands, the stadium looked as big as any he'd
seen, and it was completely filled with enthusiastic fans - tens of thousands. 
He'd never seen that kind of stadium or crowd for a women's game.   Of course,
most of the fans were women, which seemed initially reassuring, but even so, he
was surprised.  Just before turning the TV off, he heard the announcer give
their hourly identification, "This is the Professional Sports Network."  What
the hell was that? 
 
With nothing to watch, he lost his appetite for lunch and went outside, finding
the girls in the pool laughing and throwing a Frisbee around.  Emma was on the
near side, with Kate and Ashley facing them.  Before they noticed him, he ran at
full speed, leapt into the air, and cannonballed into the water, trying to
splash Emma and Kate as much as possible.  He knew how much they hated being
splashed unexpectedly, and was pleased to hear exasperated and annoyed groans as
he surfaced.
 
"Hey, little sister," he called, breaking the surface.  He went to splash Emma
again with his hand, but unexpectedly found himself needing to tread water. 
Apparently, he'd jumped in a little deeper than he'd thought.
 
"Matt!" she called, not sounding at all unhappy at his intrusion.  "Look guys,
it's Matt.  That workout really tired you out, didn't it?  We were wondering
when you'd get up from your little nap."
 
He stared at her.  It had been a dream, right?  It had to be.  A remnant from
his hangover.  It couldn't have been real.
 
"Yeah, I bet you were," he replied sarcastically, swimming to where he could
stand again.  The pool seemed bigger and deeper than it should.  It had to be
that general disorientation he'd been feeling all day.  He really must have gone
overboard with the Margaritas.  Well, OK.  Maybe he'd learned something.  Maybe
they made them stronger here.  But now he had some "business" to attend to. He
briefly dropped under water to swim closer to Kate.  With Mary away, Kate was
the prettiest and best developed of his sister's friends, and he was determined
to be banging her by the end of the day.  That would teach Emma to mess with his
head.
 
And with a closer look he decided he'd made a very good choice.  Although the
underwater view wasn't the best, her bare legs looked spectacular: long, strong
and wonderfully curved, even though the water must be magnifying the image since
they looked much bigger than normal.  He broke to the surface near her,
intentionally splashing her.
 
"Surprise, Kate!" he teased.
 
"Well, hi there, Matt," she said, smiling mysteriously.  "All that partying
wearing you DOWN?"
 
It was more than her tone that made him feel strange, but it wasn't until a
moment later, after stabilizing on his feet, that he realized what was wrong. 
Kate was smiling down at him.
 
He looked into the water in surprise, assuming she was treading water or
standing on a step.  But no -- her feet rested flat on the bottom.  She must be
in a shallower part of the pool or something.  Disconcerted, he backstroked
away.
 
"Where are you going, Matt?  I'm not too big for you, am I?" Kate teased putting
her hands on her large breasts and squeezing them together provocatively.
 
"Aw, don't make him feel bad," Ashley suggested, looking at Matt shyly.  Even
though he'd been so mean to her, she still had a crush on him.  And maybe now
he'd be different.
 
"Don't be ridiculous.  Nothing she could do or say could bother me!"  Matt took
the opportunity to steal the Frisbee from where it lay in the water.  "Oh,
girls," he called teasingly.  "How about if I show you how far I can throw
this?"  He intended to sail it over the house.
 
"Hey, that's mine!  Give it back, asshole," Kate growled.
 
"Whoa!  Feeling a little emotional?  Why don't you make me?" he taunted, making
a move as though to throw it.
 
She grinned and jumped toward him.  The speed with which she propelled herself
through the water astonished him, and she had reached him before he could throw,
quickly getting her hand on the frisbee.  He pulled it to wrest it from her, and
even more remarkably, despite his best efforts to hold on, she held on with one
hand while with the other easily bent his fingers back and pried the frisbee
away.
 
"Oww!" he said, unable to help himself.  He opened and closed his hand.  What
was going on here? 
 
She had the disc back and tossed it to Emma.  "Serves you right, twerpface," she
said.
 
The girls began tossing the Frisbee around, and he moved to get it back, but
somehow, they kept it moving just high enough to keep it away from him.  He was
too busy splashing and swimming to notice that based on their relative heights,
all of the girls somehow seemed to be standing in the shallower part of the
pool.
 
"Damnit!" he called, tired and angrily splashing the water.  He jumped for the
next toss, intentionally bumping into Kate and planning to knock her down to
intercept it, only to find that he was the one knocked rudely into the water. 
It had been like slamming into a lineman at practice.  He came up winded and
struggling in the water, splashing frantically.
 
"Hey, you OK?" Ashley asked, alarmed at his expression.
 
"He's fine," Kate snorted.  "That's what he gets for trying to play with the
girls."
 
"You be careful, little guy,"  Ashley suggested, patting him on the head.  She
smiled at him and leaned over, letting him see her breasts pour over the small
bikini top she wore.  "I learned some new letters, Matt.  A-B-C-D-E!  See?"
 
Matt was staring.  Now that Ashley had come next to him, he realized just how
big she was.  She stood at least 4 inches taller than him, and her
shoulders looked huge.  He hadn't noticed it before because her breasts were
also huge, making her look normally proportioned.  If they were "D's", they were
the largest ones he'd ever seen.  And -- did she just say "E"?!"
 
"Wh-wha?" he gasped, only now looking from one to the other of the girls, and
finally taking in just how big and strong they all looked.  "H-how did you girls
get so big?" he demanded.
 
There were some embarrassed giggles.  Kate rolled her eyes sarcastically.
 
"Geez, Matt, do we have to explain everything to you?  Like, haven't your
parents told you about the birds and bees and stuff?  What happens when girls
mature and start to grow -- and grow -- and grow!"
 
"Now, now," Emma rebuked her.  "Matt isn't a big studier, you know.  Don't tease
him about biology."
 
"It's really very simple, Matt.  I'd be happy to go through it with you.  You
see, when a girl reaches puberty, her glands begin to --
 
"I'll explain later," Emma interrupted.  "I think we should take a break.  Come
on."
 

[zarina]

She led her friends out of the pool, and Matt simply stared in awe.  As the
girls waded to the shallow water and then up the steps, it was like watching
some fitness model parade.  The girls were huge - in more than one sense.  Each
seemed to be near 6 feet tall, but just as impressively, their breasts seemed
double their usual size.  This was emphasized by their bikini tops, as was the
overall and remarkable development of their physiques.  Their legs were long and
incredibly firm and toned, with cords of muscle visible in the thighs and strong
calves that bulged out to the sides.  Their triangular bikini bottoms seemed
briefer than usual, and designed to emphasize their powerful glutes.  Although
they still had large, round asses, their behinds seemed tight and firm, as
though it was all muscle rather than fat that made them stand out.  This also
emphasized their small waists, and the bikinis showed off flat, muscular abs -
too flat and too muscular, as though 6-pack abs were the standard for girls. 
The width of their shoulder now became more obvious as well, since they were
broad enough to match those wide, powerful hips.  The girls grabbed their
towels, displaying baseball-sized biceps that he'd never seen on high-school
girls before, let alone his own sister.  It was impossible!
 
Matt simply goggled at the beauty and muscle parade.  Kate noticed and giggled.
 
"Your brother's checking us out," she informed Emma.
 
Emma smiled warningly at him.  "Matt's always liked to check us out, haven't
you?  Like all guys, he only thinks of one thing, and right now, he's getting
more than he bargained for, don't you think?"
 
Despite his disorientation and shock, the display of buff, beautiful and nearly
naked bodies was having its expected effect, and only
his baggy suit kept his growing erection from being obvious.
 
"Emma?" he gasped.  "What happened to you?  All of you?"
 
Emma smiled at her friends.  "Why, whatever do you mean, bro?  Are you talking
about this?" she asked nonchalantly, indicating the height of her overdeveloped,
amazonian body in delight.  "Or this?"  She brought an arm up and flexed,
raising a muscle that made him gasp yet again.  "I don't know.  I always wanted
to be bigger, and once I got started working on our weight machine, they just
got sooo big and hard!"  She shrugged.  "I guess it , it was hard to stop."  A
wicked glance.  "And speaking of hard."
 
She walked abruptly to the side of the pool where Matt was staring.  Too late,
he guessed her intent, but not before she'd managed to grab his suit as he
started to swim away.  He floundered helplessly, swimming awkwardly while she
held him in place.
 
"Out you go," she announced, and to his utter amazement, she lifted him clear of
the water.
 
He scrambled to his feet as she kept her hand on his arm, preventing him from
running.  He felt another sense of disbelief as he found himself
looking up into his little sister's eyes.  He struggled against her grip, but
found it unbreakable.
 
"Emma, what's going on?" he demanded.  "You're messing with me, somehow. 
Messing with my head!"  He winced at the strength in her grasp and became angry.
 "You cut it out and let go of me, or I'll have to hurt you."
 
"Your head?"  Emma laughed.  He heard giggles from the other girls, who were
nonchalantly toweling off.
 
"What is going ON with your brother?" Kate asked, rolling her eyes in amusement.
 
"He's just having a little trouble getting used to things," Emma replied.  "Matt
has this ... funny idea that he's actually supposed to be stronger than us!" 
 
This produced a musical torrent of laughter, even from the indulgent Ashley.
 
"That's so weird!  Even for a boy," Kate said.
 
"OK Matt," Emma said, finally letting him go.  "No, will you be a good boy and
get us some sodas and the sandwiches I made this morning?  If you do, maybe
we'll let you play with us in the pool later."
 
Matt rubbed at his sore arm.  "Get your own fucking snacks," he snarled.
 
"Oh, that wasn't very nice," Emma pouted.
 
Kate growled.  "Don't talk to your sister like that.  Emma, I really think you
let him get away with too much.  He's going to get in trouble if he doesn't
learn to be more polite."
 
"You just wait until Brad gets here," Matt warned her, backing away.  He still
couldn't understand what was happening.  It had to be a dream, but it was the
strangest one he'd ever had.  All he knew was that right now, he wanted to get
away.
 
Kate sat up.  "That sounded like a threat!" she said hotly.  She turned to Emma.
 "Brothers have got to learn their place, Emma.  You really need to work with
Matt more.  It's for their own sakes, you know.  Once they get to be this age,
they're supposed to be all mature.  They need to learn what's what."
 
To Matt's chagrin, Kate had moved to cut off his retreat.
 
"Hey, doofus, you sister asked to real nice like to get her something.  What do
you say?"
 
"I say fuck off," Matt said, pretending bravery.  "This is all some stupid dream
anyway."
 
Another set of giggles.
 
Emma had walked up.  "A dream, huh?  You know, I had a dream once where you were
being really, really mean to me.  And it was right out here by the pool.  At a
party like this.  It was incredibly embarrassing, and I just couldn't forget
it."   Matt was feeling more and more disoriented,
sandwiched between two younger girls who towered over him like amazons.
 
"Hey, girls, you ever have that dream where you find yourself naked?"
 
Before he could react, she'd reached down and pulled his very loose swimsuit
down, leaving him naked, his still half-hard erection in full view.  His hands
flew down to cover himself, and he ran away, tripping over his suit which got
left behind on the deck.  The girls were all laughing too hard to make a move to
stop him.
 
He stumbled into the house and ran to his room, too humiliated to think
straight.  He jumped into bed without even dressing and closed his eyes,
determined to outwait the nightmare.  It was probably a half hour later that he
heard a knock at the door.
 
"Go away," he ordered.  He was just going to lie here until he woke up.  He
couldn't understand why the dream was continuing so long anyway.
 
Ashley's voice came through the door.  "I just wanted to see if you were OK,"
she said softly.  "I'm sorry Emma embarrassed you like that.  Please open up."
 
He grabbed a shirt and shorts and opened the door, once again taken aback at her
size.  Ashley had always been such a scrawny girl, so much less developed than
her 16 year old friends.  Now she was a head taller than had the size and figure
of a voluptuous woman, and a remarkably tall and strong one at that.
 
"What's going on?" he demanded.  "How'd you get so big?"
 
She seemed taken aback by his question.  "What do you mean?  I've grown up. 
Everyone does that as they get older.  Anyway, I'm not that big.  I'm smaller
than all of my friends."
 
"You are so!" he snorted.  "You're taller than I am!"
 
"Oh!" she said brightly.  "You mean, like we're friends now?"  That perked her
up, but she still looked at him pityingly.  "Well, of course I am, silly!  I'm a
girl."
 
The answer didn't make sense.  Why didn't she find their size reversal unusual? 
"But I ... I've always been taller," he complained.  "I was taller than all of
you."
 
She smiled condescendingly and stroked his hair gently.  "But, Matt, that was
only because you were older.  Once we girls catch up, we're almost always taller
than boys.  You knew that would to happen, right?  You must have just forgotten
we would still be growing while you were away at school.  It's natural that we
would grow up while you were gone.  Poor little Mattie!"  She touched his cheek
and looked into his eyes.
 
He shook his head.  "No.  No!!  This is all some kind of nightmare.  Look at
me!"  He emphasized his small, thin body next to hers.  "You really think this
is normal?"
 
She shrugged, finding his ranting amusing.  "Well, pretty much.  You are a bit
big for a boy.  You should be proud of that, you know.  Even boys should have
some strength and stay in shape."
 
"I suppose you don't remember me playing football either?" he demanded.
 
She giggled.  "Oh, Matt!  Boys playing football?  You're bones aren't nearly
strong enough.  Come on; you'd all hurt yourselves!"  She paused a moment, as
though she were imagining the scene.  "If you play again I'd come to watch.  I
think it would be really cute!"
 
"It's not cute!"  He flushed angrily.  "I'm the starting linebacker, damn it!"
 

[zarina]

She tried to suppress her giggling.  "OK, OK," she said soothingly.  "Don't get
so mad.  So, what are you playing, flag football or something?  With one of
those little rubber footballs so you could throw them?  The regular ones would
be too large and heavy for you, I'm sure."
 
"Look, this isn't funny!" he shouted, stamping his foot.  "I ... I ...."  He
felt the wave of dizziness again and closed his eyes. When it cleared, he looked
back at Ashley and his mouth dropped open.  She'd grown again.  Or he'd shrunk. 
He was so confused now he didn't know what was happening, but the net effect was
that he was now only eye-level with the tops of her prodigious breasts!  And her
arms!  Her biceps were bulging more with her arms hanging loosely by her sides
than his ever did!
 
"Anyway," Ashley continued, smiling slightly, but otherwise going on as though
nothing had happened.  "Come on back down when you feel like it.  I'll protect
you from the other girls.  I won't let them make fun of you -- if you try to
behave yourself."  She reached down to pat his behind in a totally intimate and
inappropriate manner, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. 
Unexpectedly, she also leaned down to whisper in his ear, exposing her cleavage
and nearly all of her full, round breasts to his view.  "And don't feel so
self-conscious.  You are a very cute guy! I know not every girl does, but I LIKE
tall guys like you."  She put her hands under his arms and lifted him in the air
and kissed him full and hard on the lips, then left, pounding down the stairs
playfully, and leaving him dumbfounded. 
 
Willing unsuccessfully that this nightmare would end, he didn't dare leave his
room.  Real or not, he had no desire to experience more humiliation and
punishment from Emma and her friends.  Meanwhile, the noise and gleeful laughter
continued downstairs and only seemed to grow more boisterous.  Some time later
Emma showed up.  He could still hear the other girls laughing downstairs as Emma
entered, smiling.
 
"So, don't you like the brave new world?" she asked breezily.  "I made it just
for you!"
 
He stared at her uncomprehendingly.  "What?  You ... Emma!?" he called
anxiously, seeing that she must actually recognize that things were changed. 
"What the hell's happening?  To me, to you - to everyone?  Why doesn't anyone
else notice?"
 
"Oh all of us know!  All four of us girls, that is!  And Brad knows too, at
least as much as Mary's told him.  As for other people ...." she shrugged her
shoulders and looked a little uncertain.  "I don't know," she admitted.  "I'm
not exactly sure what they think.  It may be that they haven't noticed a thing
-- that as far as they're concerned, this is the way it's always been.  Maybe
the way it used to be seems like a dream -- a bad dream!"  She covered her mouth
with her hand.  "Is that a riot or what!"
 
He glared at her.  "It's NOT funny!  It's sick!  But what do you mean -- you
made it for me?"
 
"Well, it was yesterday afternoon when it happened.  You'd been so mean, and I
was so upset with the way you'd messed up our day.  This year had been so nice
while you were away, but now I could see you spoiling everything for us.  So I
started thinking what it would be like if girls were bigger and stronger, that
maybe we wouldn't get pushed around or have to put up with all of boys' gross
and selfish behavior.  So, I just kind of made a wish on ... a wish."  She
decided not to go into too much detail.  After all, the lawn was filled with
dandelions.  "And, uh, after my wish was granted, we all talked about it, all
last night.  And then, when I got up this morning," she shrugged, "I started to
do it."  She smiled at the memory. 
 
"What do you mean, do it?"
 
"I just did it!  I made boys smaller and girls bigger.  Just like that!"  She
snapped her fingers.  Matt jumped and looked around anxiously, but nothing had
changed.  Emma grinned at him. 
 
He stared in disbelief.  "You're doing this?" he gasped.  "How?"
 
"You think I know?  Mass delusion?  "ESP?  Magic?  Or maybe," she extended her
fingers toward Matt and made a threatening face, "God-like powers? 
Moo-hoo-hoo-ha!"  She grinned and blew on her fingernails, then polished them
against the bikini top covering her bountiful bust.  "Then again, maybe I'm just
the channel for cosmic retribution or something.  But, for the moment, at least,
it seems that whatever I say ... goes."
 
Matt couldn't believe any of this.  But still, how could he get past the fact
that he had to look up to see past his sister's tits.  "If you have so much
power, why did you need to make me so small?" he challenged.
 
"Well, I didn't HAVE to.  And, actually, I didn't intend to -- at first.  I
imagined you and all the other guys shrinking a little, and you just did,
instantly.   It was so totally amazing to see you just a little smaller, just a
little bit less in control.  But, as usual, you reacted by being even more of a
jerk, threatening me yet again!  So then, after that, I don't know, I was
thinking maybe things would be better if men and women were about the same size,
you know?  It was really cool seeing what the world was like with men and women
so equal."
 
He stared up at her, and more particularly at her bulging muscles.
 
"The same size?" he demanded angrily.  "You call this the same size?"
 
"Well, no," she admitted, before waving her hand impatiently.  "My ideas just
sort of evolved, you know?  Mary, Kate, Ashley and I all talked about how much
we ought to change things, but in the end they pretty much left it to me to
decide.  I started out with a plan, but ... well, it changed.  Anyway, I was
going to leave it like that, with everyone about equal.  But then I heard you
clanging away downstairs on that weight machine, and I figured, you'd probably
still work a lot harder on your physique than I would, and then you'd end up
stronger anyway and be just as domineering.  I mean, guys are more aggressive
too, right? So then I decided you'd have to be a little smaller before you'd
learn your lesson and start being nice.  But of course you didn't.  You just
kept trying to bully me.  So it just got easier and easier to do it.  And it's
been really interesting too.  You missed it all when you were downstairs working
out.  I was upstairs, reading the newspaper and watching TV as things kept
changing.  You should have seen the way all the sports teams changed?  And you
know who became the president"  A grin.  "She sure surprised me.  And like your
Sports Illustrated.  I've been checking it out all day as the men got smaller
and smaller.  Most of the magazine soon focused on women, but the little guys
looked so cute in the little articles about them, sandwiched between the long
features about muscular female athletes with double-page full color pictures. 
There you guys were, playing tennis with your little powder puff serves using
special, light racquets and balls on smaller courts, or playing golf from the
special men's tees.  Then after I made the differences even greater, it was just
badminton, fencing and darts, and then some real non-sports I couldn't even
identify, like synchronized walking.  And then."  She shrugged again and held up
the magazine with a picture of Sheryl Swoopes on the cover, her hand poised to
stuff the basketball through the hoop, her melon-sized biceps glistening with
persp!
 iration.
  Emma flipped through the pages quickly.  "Well, look for yourself.  The men
are all gone."  He stared at the magazine in disbelief.
 
She raised her eyebrows and smiled, enjoying the experience of looking down at
him, at seeing him so much smaller and weaker than she was.  For the first time
in her life he couldn't threaten or bully her.  He had no choice but to listen! 
She could MAKE him take account of what was on her mind!  When he finished
flipping through the pages she went on, "So, Matt, what do you think?  Do you
think that maybe now it's time we had a REAL talk about the way you treat me and
my friends?  Do you think maybe a few apologies might be in order, to me, to
Kate, and most of all to Ashley?  Hmmm?"  Her heart pounded with anticipation
that finally he would get it.  That was the most important thing, after all. 
All of her friends had agreed about that.
 
He stared at her in disbelief, but he wasn't really seeing anything beyond her
intent expression.  His face reddened, and he became angry all over again.  All
he could see was Emma, his little sister smugly trying to tell HIM what to do. 
How DARE she!  He thrust out his chest and put his hands on his hips, unaware of
how ridiculous his aggressive posture looked next to his sister, who stood so
much taller than he and was simply bursting with muscle.
 
"I just can't BELIEVE you've got me standing here LISTENING to you TELLING me
that YOU did this.  My own SISTER can suddenly can change the whole world just
by thinking about it?!  That is so FUCKING ridiculous.  I don't know WHAT'S
happening, but only a TOTAL LOSER like you would EVER imagine that I was going
to believe that crap!  And if you think that I'm EVER going to apologize to you
and your twerpy friends --"
 
Emma hadn't really known what Matt would say, but for some reason she never
imagined such hostility, such a complete refusal, even now, to deal with or even
acknowledge her feelings.  She wasn't asking for so much, was she?  But no, he
was just impossible.  He'd never learn how to behave.  Never!  Well, fine then,
FINE!  Her diffidence disappeared, replaced by annoyance, no, not annoyance,
anger.  No, it wasn't anger at all.  She'd felt as though she'd been angry with
Matt for her whole life.  Now it was fury.  Unadulterated fury.  She took a deep
breath, not to calm herself, but to gird for battle.  The adrenaline flowed. 
All of her prodigious muscles tensed, expanding to immense proportions.  Her
eyes flashed, her nostrils flared and her lips tightened.  She stamped her foot
and the floor shook.  "Hey!  I've got some important news for you, Matt.  This
is no dream.  This is real, and your old life, the one you think and feel is
real, well, it's over.  It's no less real now than a dream."
 
Matt folded his arms across his chest, oblivious to how thin they were. "This
would be funny if it weren't so sad and pathetic.  You actually believe what
you're saying!"
 
Emma replied with a loud "HA!" and then went on, "Oh I do!  Think about it,
Matt. If this IS a dream, then NONE of this is happening, INCLUDING this
conversation.  You're just talking to yourself.  So, if you win this argument
with me, you're only beating yourself.  But if you lose it ...."
 
"That's a bullshit argument.  This is all bullshit!  You know it and I know it. 
That's all there is to it."
 
Emma looked down at her imposing biceps and smiled.   "Right then.  It's as
clear as can be.  So as far as you're concerned I can do just as I like, right? 
'Cause none of this is real, just a twisted daydream of my asshole brother. You
just let me know if you change your mind, Mattie."
 
He glared at her.  It had taken years for him to get his mother to stop calling
him that.  "WHAT did you just call me?"
 
She stuck her finger in his chest.  "I called you Mattie.  But who are you
arguing with, Mattie?  I'm just a figment of your imagination. Right?"
 
Matt opened his mouth to argue and then shut it.
 
"Now, let's see.  You're calling ME a loser?  You? The one who was always so
proud of his muscles?" she said, taunting him.  "But aren't YOU the one who's
lost something?  How do your muscles compare with THESE, brother?"  She thrust
her upper arm in front of his face and pushed her muscle upwards, raising
softball-sized biceps that awed him.  And there was no mistaking the fact that
these were a woman's biceps, not cut, veiny and jagged, but rounded, with smooth
pink skin, yet looking larger and more powerful than any biceps he'd ever seen. 
And the muscles of her chest and shoulders rose into relief as well, also
lifting her jutting breasts up and out, making them look as large as
basketballs.
 
Despite the intimidating display, he maintained his hostility.
 
"So what?  You have big muscles in my dream.  They look gross on a girl anyway. 
Only boys should have muscles like those."
 
"Oh yeah?" she asked, eyes blazing.  "Nice dream you're having.  Dreaming about
your SISTER's SUPER-biceps and her 50 inch chest with DDD boobs!"  She reached
forward and felt his cock.  "Getting hard for your sister, Mattie?  Or is that
just a dream too?  Tell me what KIND of a dream it is, then."
 
"Get your hands off me!"  This was all seeming much too real and going on far
too long.  And what if--
 
She put her fingers back on his chest.  "C'mon Mattie.  What are you going to do
about it?  Show me your great big guns and threaten me?"  She poked him a couple
of times, painfully.  "Hey, that ought to wake you up, huh?  And certainly
that!"  She held her hands up and smiled angrily, flexing her biceps yet again. 
"Uh, oh!  But I'm still here, still larger than life!  C'mon Mattie, show me
what you've got.  Knock me down a few pegs.  Put me in my place!"  She stood in
front of him, balling her big hands into fists and setting up into a boxing
pose.  She didn't know the first thing about fighting, but she gently tapped her
fists against his chest, pushing him back easily with each blow until he stood
against the wall.  "Hey, aren't you going to fight me back?  You going to let
your little sister bully you?  What kind of wuss are you?"
 
Each "tap" sent a painful jolt through his body and threw him backwards.  He
could already feel bruises forming.  He put his hands up in self-defense but he
seemed unable to put up any real resistance, his arms collapsing into his chest
each time she hit them.  And he could see that she wasn't even trying!
 
"Hey, c'mon, let's see what you've got!  Show me, bud, like this morning!"
 
"No way," he said.
 
"Of course not!  You're too scared even to try.  Too scared about what you'll
see! Too scared of your own 'dreams.' Too scared even of your own 'little'
sister!  Well, you should be!  A little boy like you SHOULD be scared of what
big, strong girls can do, right?  RIGHT?"
 
"I am NOT scared of you!" he roared.  He raised his arms into a double-biceps
pose, straining with all his might, willing his muscle to rise.  And he still
DID have a noticeable biceps, even if they were relatively small compared to
what should have been there.
 
"Oooooo, woooooh," she said in mock admiration.  She quickly placed her biceps
next to his.  'Hey, not bad for a boy.  I bet we could fit no more than five of
your muscles inside mine.  Hmmmm?"
 
He looked over and swallowed nervously.  At least five. 
 
"Oh, I just don't know!" she started again, in her best little girl voice. 
"Just LOOK at those big, big guns of yours!  They're so frightening!  Just THINK
what they could DO to me!"  She crossed her hands in front of her chest like she
was pleading in a little girl sort of way for him not to hit her, while mocking
him at the same time and leaving her stomach completely undefended, right in
front of him.  She blinked her eyes innocently several times and just stood
waiting, just daring him to do something.  Then she smiled slightly, and snorted
a half-laugh, a mocking laugh, her lips tightly pursed together in the slightest
hint of a sneer.
 
That, finally, sent him over the edge.  Teeth clenched, he balled his right hand
into a fist.  Emma rolled her eyes, looking bored and then glanced down at her
bare abdomen, thin and taut, with a visible lattice of muscle.  Matt followed
her eyes down and once she'd seen he did, the lattice immediately thickened,
first into a classic sixpack and then, as she tensed her abdominals further,
into a veritable wall of muscle.  She looked into Matt's eyes now, daring him to
hit her.
 
Matt glared back, but then glanced back down at his target.   He swallowed and
looked down at the ground. 
 
"Second thoughts?  Isn't this a first!  Maybe you need to work out a bit more
before you think about threatening me, huh Matt?"  She hit him on the cheek in
slow motion, but with enough force to turn his head and push it backwards.  Matt
grabbed her hand -- first with one hand and then using both -- and tried with
all of his strength to pull it off or even to stop her.  She giggled at the
futility of his efforts.  He was so weak now compared to her!
 
"Don't be too sure of yourself, Emma. Maybe you've done something to fuck me up
today, but I'm still no weakling.  I know a lot more than you'll ever know about
training and fighting.  And I swear to you, when things get back to normal
you'll pay for this.  Oh you will pay!"
 
"Is that so?  Well, I think it's time to see what this LOSER can do."  She
lifted him in the air, holding him at arm's length, while he swung at her, his
arms too short to reach her.  Then she caught his upper arm in her free hand to
feel his muscle.  "Mmmm, it still feels firm, I suppose.  But not for long,
Mattie.  Just watch."  And almost immediately he started feeling dizzy, that
same feeling he'd been having on and off all day.  "Uh, oh, I think it's getting
kind of soft, you know.  A little squishy. Yeah, definitely."  At her words, he
could feel his muscle lose its hardness and tension.  It stayed about the same
size, but became spongy.  And he was feeling so woozy!  She was moving her
fingers back and forth along his upper arm now, not even pushing down but still
meeting no resistance at all between his skin and his bone.  "Hey, what
happened, Mattie?  It's all gone so soft.  You think you're having another
dream?" 
 
She put him down and he stared up at her.  Had she grown even more?!  His head
didn't even reach her chest anymore, and it was unreal the way her chest bulged
outwards, her breasts now resting on a shelf of muscle.  And her arms!  Were
those muscles or boulders?
 
She looked at the still packed suitcase on the floor.  "You know, I think I'll
just accept that little gift you offered me of your luggage.  It'll be really
useful for getting my stuff up to MIT next year, and I may as well get used to
it now.  Thanks, bro!"
 
"What?  No way, Emma.  I bought that with my own money!"
 
"What did you say?  That you bought it for me with your own money?  That's so
sweet!  It's just the kind of thoughtfulness and consideration I've always
wanted in a brother."  She lifted it up.
 
"Give that back!" he cried out, grabbing on to the handle with both hands. 
 
Emma smiled and let go, and Matt tumbled to the floor with it in a heap.  Emma
looked down at him pityingly and then easily lifted it into the air with one
arm.  "I don't think you're strong enough to carry this anymore.  Maybe you
should ask Mom for one with little wheelies, hmmm?  But just a little one, Matt,
'cause you'll still need to carry it up and down steps, and with a boy's soft
little muscles, you won't be able to manage much more.  Why, just look at those
weak arms!"
 
Matt looked down at his arms with horror.  "You know," she continued, "I could
swear they seem to be shrinking right before my eyes, um hmmmm?" she said,
winking. As though they were a couple of scoops of ice cream cone melting in the
hot sun, even the soft biceps bulges began to shrink and flatten.  Ignoring his
dizziness, he desperately tensed and retensed, each time producing smaller and
smaller biceps curves, until his arm remained smooth and flat no matter how hard
he strained.  Flat on top, that is.  Below there was a little roll of fat that
jiggled as he moved his arm.  He felt the soft flesh and screwed up his face
with intense distaste.  This flabby body!  It CAN'T be mine!  He looked up at
her pleadingly, and she smiled back sympathetically.  "Poor little Mattie.  So
weak and helpless."  She reached down and felt the sides of his torso, squeezing
a couple of times to tickle him.  His body jerked spasmodically in her hands,
but she held him firmly.  "So cute!  And, you know, you'll always be just like
this -- if you don't let up on the exercise and get fat.  But just a little
warning, Mattie. Don't expect too much from working out, 'cause if you do,
you'll find it a bit frustrating now.  You see, boy's bodies just don't produce
the same kind of hormones as girls.  For boys, exercise uses up calories, of
course, but they really won't be able to develop muscle size or strength very
much, no matter how much or how hard they work out.  Oh, you'll be able to tone
them up a little, to keep them firm for a boy -- like yours," she winked.
 
"You call this firm?!!" he shouted angrily.
 
"Well, for a boy!  If we girls want, on the other hand, we seem to be able to
grow more muscle just with a few flexes."  She pumped up her arm and her already
prodigious biceps grew even more with each flex.  "  She flexed her biceps,
admiring the hard softball-size muscle that erupted from her arm.  "You'll find
that girls on the other hand will be able to grow their muscles almost at will."
 She pressed her hands together in front of her chest, forcing her pectoral
muscles to bulge and harden.  "Good for the bust too!  If you look at the new
Sports Illustrated -- which just changed again! -- you'll see that women's
fashions ALWAYS leave arms bare.  Our muscles are so big and hard now, and so,
well, EXPLOSIVE, that it's just not practical to cover them.  Besides, our big
biceps really drive the guys wild, you know?  Why d'ya suppose that is, Mattie? 
Why?  Can you tell me Mattie?  Huh?"  She started bouncing her biceps in front
of his eyes, and they grew larger and larger with each flex.
 
"Emma!" he cried out in terror.
 
There was a knock at the door and Ashley peeked in.  "Are you finished, Em?  I
thought maybe it was time for me to spend a little time with your cute little
brother.  Would you mind?"
 
"Oh no, Ashley, not at all!  I'm completely finished now."  And once she said
it, a bright light seemed to emerge from Emma and then exploded, as though
millions of tiny stars were swirling around Matt's room, like the seeds of a
thousand dandelions scattering to the winds.  "Wow, did you see that?!"
 
Ashley came in.  The formerly slight girl now towered above Matt, whose head
reached only the top of her chiseled abdomen.  "I'd have to suppose that meant
you've just lost the power, Emma.  So the changes you made must be permanent
now."
 
"You don't mind do you, Ashley?  You don't think I went too far?"
 
Ashley lifted Matt and held him in her big arms as though he were a small child.
 Matt looked in one direction at her basketball-sized breasts, then at her arms
where Ashley obligingly flexed her melon-sized biceps for him, and guided his
hand around her tiny waist and down to her wide hips and muscular thighs.  Matt
looked at Emma and then, in fear, buried his head in Ashley's bosom.
 
"Oh no!  It's perfect!"
 
 
The end

[NinjaStar]

Now, that was a well-written story. I'm not usually a fan of the power-transfer, brother/sister kinds of stories (I find them cliche) but the command of the language and polish made me want to continue reading. Well done, thanks for sharing.

[snowman7]

Great, well written story.  The long slow burn is fun to read.

[zarina]

This is a good one, originally by Nomdreserv, with this re-write by Marknew.

(muscle drain)

In Tennis, Love Means Nothing
Alternate Version


Rick biked easily up the hill to Debbie Moore's house, pleased to see that she was
already waiting for him by her tennis court. It was a gorgeous house, in
the estate area in town. He had to admit that he had never actually been
inside any of the houses in the area. He wondered for a moment what it would
be like to live here, to have his own tennis court, swimming pool and riding
stables, then gave up. He was happy just to be here, getting ready for another
friendly game of tennis. Who knew where it would lead?

Debbie waved cheerfully, then returned to practicing her serves. She was
dressed in a short skirt and sleeveless tennis top, and Rick admired her long
legs and full bust as he set his bike down, enjoying the way the motion of the
serve pushed out her breasts first to stretch her top, then sending them
bouncing within. Debbie was a gorgeous, popular sophomore cheerleader, well
coordinated and supple in her cheering routines, but Rick had never known her
to be particularly strong or athletic, and he hoped it was merely a pretense
to attract his attention. Well, it had certainly worked! Rick was a junior,
not the most popular or skilled around girls, but he was one of the best
players on the high school team, and he jumped at the opportunity when Debbie
had asked if he was interested in playing her in a series of matches to
improve her own game. She had certainly dropped some hints that she wanted
more from him than just tennis instruction, but to his surprise she had been
quite serious about their games, playing quite intensely and competitively
with good form and improving every week. Obviously she had taken regular
lessons before and was looking to bring her game to the next level. He had
heard that she was an ambitious and determined girl, and judged she could in
time be a very competitive player.

That is, for a girl.

He smiled to himself at the thought. Debbie was pretty good, and his coaching
was certainly helping, but she was nowhere near his own level and never would
be. That was fine with him - it gave him leisure to watch her rather than the
ball when they played - but it certainly seemed to frustrate her. When she
tried to copy his aggressive serve and volley play style, he had to keep
reminding her that it wouldn't work, since she was just not strong enough to
drive the ball past her opponents, especially men. He added, a bit
patronizingly he had to admit, that few girls were strong enough to play that
kind of game, even at the professional level. He'd given her the example of
Chris Evert, the number one women's player in the world for awhile. Even so,
her first husband -- who never got beyond a 300 ranking in the men's game --
invariably beat her easily. Then last week, just to drive the point home, he
played full out during their last set, slamming her 6 - Love and blasting the
racquet out of her hand with his last shot. She'd been pretty angry
afterwards, and he worried for a few days that he had messed up his chances to
go further with her, but she called this morning at the usual time to make
sure he would meet her. In fact, she seemed positively bubbling with
excitement about the next match.

He unzipped his racquet cover and walked onto the court. When he approached to
say hi, she suddenly surprised him by running over and giving him a huge, long
kiss, rubbing her bare legs and soft body up against him. Astounded, he lost
no chance in trying to match her unexpected warmth, and prolonged the kiss as
long as he could. When they finally broke apart, she stepped back and looked
at him speculatively.

"Surprised?" She smiled at him slyly.

"I...well, yes," he finally admitted, his cheeks flushed. "But, hey, it's cool
with me. Wow."

He felt a surprising, lingering tingle in his lips from the kiss that seemed
to spread through his body.

"Just a sample. There's lots more to come. I thought you deserved to start
getting, you know, something back, after playing me and teaching me so much
about tennis." She looked up at him with an odd, not entirely friendly
expression, as though turning over something in her mind, then, seemingly
satisfied, she turned and started walking to the other side of the court,
swaying her hips seductively.

Rick's heart jumped. It was just what he had been hoping for. Relieved too,
since his younger sister Delia had been teasing him mercilessly about Debbie's
using him as an unpaid instructor, while everyone knew she was tight with
Tony, a senior who was the starting quarterback. Not that Delia needed an
excuse to tease him. Like all sisters, especially ones near their sibling's
age, she took a particular delight in tormenting him. She sometimes tried to
best him physically as well, since she was close to his own size and just as
competitive. He beat her at tennis and basketball regularly, and he always
used to enjoy arm wrestling and tickling her into submission although that
kind of contest had fallen off in the last few years as they both had matured.
Still, he knew that Delia just ached to beat him at some physical contest.

Fortunately, he thought smugly, she was just a girl, and his superior
masculine strength gave him an edge that she would never overcome.

He called to Debbie. "I thought you'd be mad after that last game."

She stopped and turned around, giving him a good look at the profile made by
her curvy figure. "I was. Especially the way you flaunted your 'natural male
superiority.' But then I thought, don't get mad, get even. Show him there's
more than one way to be a winner."

He was puzzled. Her surprise intimacy seemed an odd way to get even. She
laughed at his confused expression.

"Hey, to make it interesting, how about a little wager about the game today?"

"Money?"

"If you want, but I was thinking about some more interesting stakes. Winner
gets to take whatever they want from the loser."

"Anything?" he tried to figure her angle, but found himself imagining those
full lips wrapped around his hard cock. His libido seemed to have been
supercharged after their previous kiss, and he sported a slight bulge that was
persisting long after from feeling her body against him.

She smirked. "Anything within reason. I think I KNOW what you want." She put a
finger in her mouth suggestively. "And that's in bounds. So, deal?"

Rick could barely contain himself. "Deal." He wondered how many points he'd
have to let her win just to make it look like he wasn't completely taking
advantage of her. "You can even serve first.," he suggested, to be sporting.

"Thanks. I'll take that. But one other condition."

His heart sank. He knew there must be a catch. How many points would he have
to spot her?

"We change courts after every game."

"Why?" he asked, surprised at such a strange request.

"To keep you off balance," she smirked. "You talk about male physical
superiority. Maybe I can play some female mind games to balance things out."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," he agreed readily, already trying to decide to ask for
a simple blow job or something more.

She tried to catch him by surprise with an immediate, quick serve. It was a
decent serve, too, a bit faster than usual for her, but Rick's reflexes
enabled him not only to return it, but since he couldn't think fast enough to
take anything off, immediately put the point away by driving past the charging
Debbie. She shook her head, but didn't seem too upset. Her next serve was a
fault, and Rick couldn't resist smashing the soft second serve down the line
for another point. Her third service was average - and promptly put away. And
a minute later, they were changing courts.

She surprised him yet again when she abruptly waylaid him as they passed,
planting another kiss on his lips and rubbing up against his flushed skin. He
felt another pleasurable but unusual tingle move through his body.

"For luck," she explained, then winked. "Mine."

Rick bounced the ball, then tossed it high for his usual serving motion.
Something felt wrong in his arm as he swept the racquet down, and he was
chagrined to find that the ball hit high on the net. He thought it might be
just as well, since Debbie didn't have much of a chance against his first
serve anyway, and sent an easy second serve over. She hit it back crisply, and
they rallied for several strokes before he put the point away. His next two
serves were in, and he was up 40 love when he deliberately sent a creampuff
serve to appease her. She smacked the return even more sharply than he had
anticipated.

"Good one," he admitted. "Your overhand smash has really improved."

"And getting better fast," she replied cryptically.

He finished the game with another service winner, though Debbie surprised him
by actually getting her racquet on this one. As they changed again, he
expected the mid-court kiss this time and wasn't disappointed.

"Mmm," he said, prolonging it as long as he could. "You sure you don't want to
just call it a match now and get on to the good stuff?"

"Oh, but I AM getting the good stuff," she replied eagerly, looking at him
carefully. "And I'm not nearly done yet."

He shrugged and took his position. Debbie's serve this time was long, as
though she'd misjudged her strength, but after he won the point on her second
serve, her next two were in and hard - her serve seemed to have really picked
up since they last played - maybe even from the first game. Rick actually had
to concentrate to hit them back well.

The match proceeded apace, though the games were starting to get much closer.
Debbie's game kept improving - her serves and returns were getting stronger as
they played, and his own play seemed little off. He rubbed his shoulder as he
prepared to serve out the set. His arm felt weird - almost tired, and he was
having more and more trouble getting any real velocity on his serves, at least
if he wanted to keep them in. And he needed to - Debbie had really ripped his
last few second serves, the returns so hard and fast that he'd been caught
flatfooted. The only reason that he was still winning handily was that she
also seemed to be overhitting the ball, sending many returns out. She even
seemed aware of this but didn't care, as though she was just testing
something. In fact, she deliberately let his last serve go by her to end the
set.

"Good one," she pretended, belying her obvious pass on the return. "But I
think I've finally found my zone. Change sides and get ready for a real
battle."

Rick actually felt a little winded after the set, which astonished him, even
more so since Debbie seemed perfectly paced, maybe even a bit stronger now
than when they had started. Debbie had never really pushed him in their games
before, and he wasn't sure he liked the feeling of being challenged by her. As
he caught his breath and wiped the sweat from his brow, stopping to take a
long drink from his water bottle, he was surprised when she reached into a
pocket and pulled out a tube of lip gloss, applying a fresh coat. He could
just make out the brand label, "Power Me."

"So that's your secret," he joked, trying to hide his being slightly out of
breath.

She winked. "Now you know it. But it's too late for you." As if to give truth
to her words, she immediately leaned over to kiss him with the refreshed
coating on her lips. He felt that warming tingle move through his body even
more strongly, and his cock jumped embarrassingly. Before she broke away, she
reached out to massage his arm, lingering on his biceps. To his surprise, she
encircled them with her fingers and squeezed.

He pulled his arm back with a startled cry. He wasn't sure what had surprised
him more - the act itself, or perhaps more worrisome, how much it had hurt. It
seemed her fingers were able to push in much too easily into what should have
been a well-developed, firm muscle.

She smiled and wiggled her hand as he rubbed his arm. "Aw, I'm sorry, Rick.
Did these little fingers hurt you?"

"No, no way," he lied, flexing the arm, and trying to pretend it was a joke.
"You just surprised me."

Debbie walked away, swinging her ass provocatively and taking his mind off his
arm. "Good, because sometimes I like to play a little rough. I wanna make sure
you'll make it through our game and be ready for what comes after."

He stared openly at her gorgeous body. Her legs were really toned, something
he hadn't really noticed until now. Maybe it was because her skirt was shorter
and tighter than usual - it actually rode up and exposed her taut panties
beneath. He frowned. Had it been that short before? He shook his head. Of
course, it must have been. Still, her top seemed awfully tight too, making her
breasts look bigger, yet somehow also higher on her chest, as though her whole
upper body was bigger and stronger. And the sleeveless style really showed off
her strong upper arms.

Rick did a double take. When did her arms get so toned? She had the upper body
of a real athlete, with defined biceps and shoulders like those he'd only seen
on women who did regular weight training. No wonder her game had picked up so
much! She must have been working out in secret for weeks now, just to ambush
him like this. The realization made him angry, and he decided to forget about
any ideas of taking it easy on her.

And then, her first serve of the new set rocketed by him, a clear ace.

He turned and watched the ball ricochet off the fence with a ping. He'd never
seen another high school girl serve that fast, let alone Debbie. It was almost
as good as his own.

Or - though his mind refused to consider this for long - given how weird his
arm felt today - maybe even better than his - today. He rubbed at the sore
spot where she'd grabbed him. The pain was subsiding, but did he actually see
a bruise forming where she'd pinched him? He pretended that her ace had been
because he was distracted by that.

Debbie was smiling at his obvious discomposure. "Surprised?" she called
happily. "You'll be flattered by what I call it -- 'Ricky's serve.'"

"Yeah," he agreed grimly, getting into his ready position for the next one,
and gearing his mind and body as intensely as he did for any of his real
matches. That was the problem - she'd caught him by surprise. Now that he knew
what to expect, he'd show her how he handled hotshot serves. Her next shot
came zooming across the net, he brought his arm back and swung.

And hit the ball right into the net.

He didn't know what had happened. His return of serve was one of his stronger
assets, and yet he'd misjudged the way he'd caught the ball and how fast the
serve had been. It was as though his arm was just a little slower and weaker
than his brain remembered. He adjusted his racquet for a shorter grip and
decided to just volley the next serve back until he got the timing of her new
serve down better.

That worked better, especially since Debbie still didn't seem quite to have
control over her own returns. Twice she overhit his volleys, tying the game.
Frustrated, she double faulted twice to give him the game.

"Surprise yourself," he grinned as they passed each other switching sides.
"Hitting it hard doesn't always make the difference."

She stopped and looked at him challengingly, her hands on her hips. "Oh? Here
you told me last week about the superiority of a man's game because of his
strength. Changing your mind?"

"No, of course not. Hitting wildly at the ball doesn't work. Tennis is about
power AND control. Having superior strength enables a player to hit the ball
hard without overswinging. That's why if the difference in strength is great
enough, the stronger player will almost always win -- so long as he has decent
skills. That's just the advantage male players have. We can hit the ball
harder with a nice, even swing."

"Hmmph. We'll see about that." She grabbed him by both arms and kissed him
hard, almost hungrily. He was surprised at how strong her grip was, and even
more by the passion of the kiss. He again noticed her hands moving over his
biceps, almost as though she was checking something.

[zarina]

"Yes, pretty soon," she replied mysteriously, flexing her own arm in
experimentation. Now that he thought of it, her shoulders really weren't all
that rounded. They were pretty broad for a girl - hell, they were broad for
anyone! He was amazed at the size of her biceps, and unconsciously flexed his
own arm, feeling the disturbingly small swelling that resulted. It seemed
barely larger than hers, and softer than normal too he realized with a slight
sense of panic, and he resolved to hit the weights again regularly starting
that evening.

His problems with his serve continued and seemed to get worse with every game.
Soon, he felt like he was lobbing the ball like in a practice session with a
beginner. Unfortunately, Debbie wasn't playing like a beginner, as she proved
time and again by rocketing the ball back with more and more power. The
placement of her shots was improving too, as her well-practiced form seemed to
be returning. Rick hated to admit it, and was sure that it was because he must
have come down with a virus or something, but she was definitely playing
better than he was today. What incredibly bad luck, he thought, when he had
that wager to win!

And she was looking so great too. Her legs seemed to look better to him with
each game, making her tennis skirt look like a mere decorative sweat band
adorning the sculpted columns of her legs. Her calves were defined diamonds,
and the muscles of her thighs bulged whenever she reached or stretched,
showing taut bands and thick cords. Meanwhile, he was wondering more and more
whether he had somehow this morning put on the wrong shorts, which seemed to
flap around his legs - making them look much thinner than normal. Even lower,
since they reached almost knee level now. He tried to pull them up, but they
didn't want to stay, almost as though the waist was too big. Maybe he was
wearing his father's by mistake.

Meanwhile, her tennis top seemed ready to split from the strain of her upper
body. Her breasts squeezed out the top, enhancing her cleavage, but even the
shoulder straps looked too tight, and her back seemed too broad to be readily
contained by the stretching fabric. Rick decided she must have deliberately
chosen a too small and tight outfit to distract him.

And it was working. Even now, when she leaned back to serve, he could see
glimpses of bare midriff where the too tight shirt lifted up, catching his eye
irresistibly, especially when he noticed the beginnings of a six-pack abdomen.
How far had she gone with this secret weight training? His own shirt seemed to
hang ever more loosely and low on his body. Somehow, even the sleeves hung
lower.

He was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable with the whole setup, especially
as Debbie's accuracy caught up with her increasing power. By the middle of the
set, she broke his serve.

"Yes!" she called triumphantly, shaking her racquet in the air. He changed
sides in shock, beginning to wonder if this was some kind of nightmare. His
game was deserting him. And he was so confused that he didn't even notice that
their lips and eyes were even in height as she extracted her now customary
kiss. She all but ran in her eagerness to switch sides and try her own serve
again.

Things went from bad to worse. Even using all his skill and strategy, Rick
could barely challenge her new and improving serve, and his returns got more
and more pathetic. Debbie was striding around the court like she owned it,
catching up to every soft shot he hit and returning the ball with increasing
power. And she kept looking more and more intimidating physically, no doubt
because of her increased confidence. Now her shirt left her stomach uncovered
even when she stood straight, and her arms and shoulder muscles bulged
noticeably when she swung her racquet.

Rick, meanwhile, was left more and more frustrated. He was increasingly
breathless. His arms felt like rubber. At last, he decided he must be sick. It
was the only thing that could account for his sudden weakness and exhaustion.
He knew people could actually lose weight when they got sick, and that would
explain his loose clothes. He paused to finish off his water bottle, hoping to
fight what must be an early dehydration, and deliberately took his time to
catch his breath. He thought about telling Debbie and calling the match, but
was afraid that she would think it cowardice on his part because of her
improved game, especially since his inability to hold his serve had left her
in a position to close out the set.

He limped a bit from a sudden muscle cramp while they changed sides. As she
reapplied her lip gloss, he stopped to rub his leg, surprised at how soft the
cramped muscle felt. He realized he must really be getting sick, and when
Debbie came close, he said ,"Look, how about..."

Before he could finish, she grabbed him for yet another passionate kiss. His
body responded immediately, making him forget the muscle cramp and his
fatigue. Debbie seemed just as turned on as he was and again rubbed her
surprisingly hard body up against his. He reveled in feeling her pillow-like
lips against his, especially as they sent such intense tingles coursing
through his body. The feelings were making almost weak on his feet and he
wobbled for a moment, but fortunately their embrace supported him.

Debbie finally broke the kiss and smiled at him, satisfied for the moment. She
gave his behind a playful swat as they parted, and he yelped at the unexpected
sting. He thought he heard her giggle at the feel of his ass under her hand
but he ignored it as he watched her stride away, her long legs eating up the
ground. The tingles from their kiss continued to make him shiver with a dizzy
pleasure, but he smiled and relaxed, as though in a drug-induced fog, slipping
back into happy thoughts. Even if he did lose this set, he could take it back
in the last one, and there was lots to enjoy in the meantime, he decided while
watching her round, firm ass sway underneath her micro skirt. Besides, he was
sure that his skill could still overmatch her, even if his flu-weakened body
couldn't.

He was wrong. Embarrassingly so. It was a rout now, and the match ended
decisively on her next serve. He barely managed a weak volley around two aces,
then crouched, sweating and panting while she wound up for the possible set
point. He moved his hands back on the handle and tightened his grip,
determined to hit it back hard and catch her by surprise, then he could rally
by changing games and keeping her off balance. He gripped the racquet hard and
swung as the ball screamed over.

And cried out as the ball actually knocked the racquet out of his hands.

Debbie cried out again and enthusiastically jumped at her first ever set
victory against him. Rick rubbed his stinging hand in amazement. He had never
lost the racquet like that. It was almost as if he was being completely
overpowered.

Debbie actually jumped the net to come over, clearing it by more than a foot
with a powerful leap. Rick noticed that her skirt now sat above her waist, and
her panties had become a near thong since they seemed to be swallowed by her
thick legs and hard buns. What he didn't notice as she came over to place a
strong arm around his shoulder - being too distracted by her breasts, which
now seemed bigger than D cups as they were squeezed and half exposed by her
too small top - was that Debbie was now slightly taller than he was.

"You don't wanna quit, do you?" she asked. "You're looking overmatched out
there."

Rick tried to catch his breath so she wouldn't hear him panting, but was
desperately relieved at the idea of halting the match.

"Um, maybe I'm coming down with a virus or something," he puffed. "I am
feeling pretty weird." Why did her ballooning breasts look so close to his
eyes? And where the hell did she get the bulging biceps that now held him?
Could her muscles really respond that much to exercise? Her legs looked as
thick and strong as carved ivory columns. Normally, he liked to show off his
own muscular thighs, but given how he was feeling, he was thankful for his
drooping shorts. His legs felt small and weak - the muscles almost quivering
from the strain of running around the court. Could you really lose that much
mass from fever and dehydration? He sat down on a bench.

"No problem," she smiled. "Now, since I've won my first match ever against a
boy, and the bet, I think I'll celebrate by choosing..."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," he wheezed angrily, ashamed to admit the obvious.
"What do you mean you win?"

"Well, come on, Rick. You're forfeiting, right? I mean, not that I blame you.
I think we both realize that the way you're playing..."

"Uh uh." He shook his head in stubborn defiance. "We keep playing. Just
because you've put on some muscle from the secret training you've been doing
-- and probably some drugs" he added sharply, "doesn't mean you can beat me.
You're still not half the player I am. Even sick, I'm the stronger one and
I'll beat you."

Her look was steely and confident. "You mean, because of your natural male
superiority?"

"That's right. Not to mention my training and experience. Let me just catch my
breath," he insisted. "Then, I'll serve and put you right down." He thought he
could actually feel a little strength returning as they rested. All he needed
was a break and a different game plan. After all, he'd beaten plenty of guys
with bigger serves and stronger returns than hers. And he had years of
experience playing tough matches. He gathered his energy while she stonily
reapplied her lip gloss once, and then again, and checked the strings on her
racquet. "OK. I'm rested. I'll show you how it's done," he said confidently
and stood up.

"Oooh, such a brave trooper," she said in a surprisingly icy tone. "Show me
now." Suddenly, she was all over him, kissing him hungrily and rubbing her
hard body against him. He was amazed at how big and firm her breasts felt as
they mashed against him, seeming even wider than his whole chest. Her leg
forced its way between his knees and he felt the bare, smooth skin of her firm
thighs move against him, making his cock instantly take notice and jump to
full hardness. She noticed and massaged it with her hand, nearly making him
cream in his shorts, while she smothered him with wet kisses and licked his
face. Her other hand roamed wildly over his back and upper body, caressing
here, probing there. Apparently satisfied, she brought both hands up to work
together below his shoulders and squeezed his upper arms, pulling him closer
to her.

She was all over him, lost in a passion even greater than his. He felt as
though her desire for him was physically overwhelming him, her lips, tongue
and breasts forcing themselves against him, pushing him from every direction,
attacking him, almost with more firmness and strength than he could handle to
hold himself in place next to her. Fortunately, her hands drew him in even
more tightly against her body, and the sexual heat that flared as she ground
against his hard cock made him ignore the feelings of weakness. He had never
felt so turned on before; he just wanted to surrender everything he had to
her. His senses whirled and again he nearly came - he'd never felt so excited,
so desperate to cum even though he was fully dressed. She removed her hand
from his neck and his head began to tilt back to meet her kisses, and he let
himself be supported in her iron grip as wave after wave of weakness swept
through him. She licked his ear while rubbing her body up and down against his
rigid penis. He felt it slide along her muscular thigh towards her hot cleft.

It was too much for him. With a cry of released ecstasy mixed with some
embarrassment, he came, gushing a huge load of cum into his shorts. His cock
jerked spasmodically for what seemed like minutes, while she continued to rub
against him. Her breasts, arms and legs seemed to swell as they moved over
him.

Suddenly, he winced. Her hands had compressed his biceps hard, her fingers
sinking in as easily as though butter. She let go, and with a cry of pain he
stumbled backwards. "What the hell?" he asked, then paused. His voice sounded
weird - higher and thinner. He cleared his throat. "Why'd you do that?" he
whined, rubbing his arms. He was too confused and disoriented by his recent
climax to notice anything unusual. Strangely enough, neither of their clothes
looked especially wet after rubbing together with what had been a huge load of
cum. Even more bizarrely, he didn't feel wet in his underwear at all.

Debbie was already walking away. "OK, big shot. Show me what you've got. Your
serve, right?"

Rick was thoroughly dazed. How could she still be interested in the game? All
he wanted to do was go home and take a nap. He'd never felt so exhausted and
weak after an orgasm.

"Ready?" she called impatiently, waiting for the ball.

Rick took up his place, his racquet feeling very strange in his hands. It was
an extremely expensive model that his parents had given him for his birthday,
and normally it felt like an extension of his own hand. But now, it felt heavy
and clumsy, almost as though the handle was too big and the frame had been
weighted down. He pulled at his loose shorts, not noticing how his shirt now
reached his lower thighs.

But he sure noticed Debbie. She looked like something out of a supermodel
bodybuilding magazine, with bulging arms and shoulders and corded, muscled
legs that threatened to rip through the tiny skirt that no longer could hide
them. Her chiseled body was set off by her ridiculously tight clothes, which
must have shrunk somehow from her sweat, since her rock-hard abs were now
fully exposed by what had become a halter instead of a shirt. She looked down
at her tennis clothes and laughed and pulled off her top, content to play in
her sports bra. She looked superhumanly strong.

[zarina]

And so were her shots. He could barely lift the racquet to serve and half his
shots didn't even clear the net. When he did managed to land one in the
service box her returns blew by him or tore the racquet out of his enfeebled
hands. Her serves zipped by him in a blur, and he waved at them in slow motion
with a too heavy racquet. With each game and each increasingly brutal but
perfunctory kiss, his game deteriorated further while hers rose to higher and
higher levels. When she went to put the set away without losing a single
point, she cold-bloodedly smashed the ball straight at him. She hit it hard
and high enough to go out, but his legs couldn't respond quickly enough to his
brain telling him to get out of the way and the ball hit him squarely in the
chest, driving all the breath from his body. The ball ricocheted lazily in the
air back to Debbie, who casually slammed at the fence behind Rick, watching
satisfied as it tore through the hole and dropped out the other side.

Rick had collapsed on the court from the pain of Debbie's last shot, but this
time Debbie showed no sign of interest or sympathy. The now Amazonian woman
calmly collected her things, including a sweatshirt. Rick idly wondered, when
she put it on, why she had picked such a small size. The sleeves didn't reach
her wrists, and the bottom rode above her waist. She shrugged, and he could
swear he heard the snap of her overstressed sports bra give way underneath.

"That's better," she sighed. Without turning, she continued, "You know, Rick,
since I don't really see you giving me much of a challenge anymore, I think it
might be better if we forget about these little games after today."

"What?" he gasped in shock. His shirt felt like a sack and barely stayed on
his shoulders when he stood up. Even his shoes felt loose.

She turned to him coldly. "To be honest, I think you've given me about as much
as you can." A mysterious smile. "Not that I'm not grateful. Thanks to you, I
bet I could even beat Tony now." She flexed a softball-sized biceps. "Maybe
we'll see what else I can beat him at now."

"But...but..." he protested, his voice still sounding weak and high like a
kid's.

She actually patted his head, though his confused brain still didn't notice
that she was tall enough to do it without raising her arm.

"Now, now. No regrets. You were a great...inspiration to me." Unexpectedly,
she reached out and grabbed his racquet. He tried to hang on, but she easily
overpowered him and pulled it away, hoisting it experimentally. "No wonder you
liked this one. This is so incredibly light - like it's made of air. I think
I'll take it as my victory prize."

"No!" he cried, inexplicably near tears and still in shock, as though his
whole body was in upheaval. "That's not fair!"

"Oh, and a blowjob or fuck for you would have been?" she sneered. She calmly
put the racquet in her bag, leaving her own girl's model for him. "Hey, if you
want, go tell everyone what happened. How I whipped your sorry butt." She was
already walking away, up to the big house. "But don't make me do it again in
front of everyone."

He watched her go, completely overwhelmed. What the hell had happened? She
seemed so huge and strong now, with a confidence to match, while he seemed to
be shrinking into his clothes, weak and frightened. Somehow, she must have
drugged him or something. Set the whole thing up. He tried to shout an angry
defiance.

"Yeah, well fuck you!" he called, hearing his voice move into an embarrassing
alto with the increased force. Humiliated, he picked up her discarded racquet
(strangely enough, even her junior miss model seemed heavy at the moment) and
gathered his own things, wincing at the aches of his overtaxed muscles. He had
to adjust the seat on his bike, and found it incredibly hard to ride, as
though his muscles had just turned to jello over the stress, and wobbled a bit
in the street as a result.

He hoped his sister would give him a break when he got home, especially if she
heard that Debbie had dumped him - or even worse, guessed that he'd lost the
match. Though then again, the idea of physically abusing another member of the
female sex in revenge had its attractions at the moment. After all, what else
were little sisters good for? Maybe he'd be the one to pick a fight.

Though the familiar tingle that seemed to move through his body in response
really should have told him better.

He also tried to console himself by remembering what a powerful orgasm Debbie
had given him during the match just by rubbing against him. His cock seemed
unusually sensitive even now, and started to firm up all on its own. He
decided he'd take a shower and jerk off when he got home, already mentally
recalling the image of Debbie bursting out of her too small tennis clothes. At
least he could still masturbate to that image, even if the real life version
had brushed him off.

That thought cheered him as he strained with all his strength up a small hill.
After all, sex was what he had been hoping for from the beginning. He'd gotten
what he wanted from their match, hadn't he?

(Just like Debbie.)

Epilogue:

When he arrived home to the still empty house, Rick was too tired even to take
a shower. He staggered downstairs to his basement room and quickly stripped
off his clothes and into bed. He'd have a short nap, restore his energy, then
figure out just how sick he was and whether he had to do homework for school
tomorrow. He quickly dropped into a deep sleep, ignored the alarm he'd set for
ten o'clock and awakened only at eleven-thirty when his sister shined a
flashlight into his eyes.

"Hey! What gives? Turn that thing off."

Delia was wearing her summer sleepwear, just a tank top and shorts. She lifted
the flashlight a few feet higher, out of her brother's range, but kept the
light on him. "You went to bed pretty early big bro'. Life too much for you
these days?"

"Leave me alone, if you know what's good for you. I've got the flu or
something," he said angrily.

"Hmmmph! Listen to you. You sound funny, but you don't sound fluey to me." She
reached forward and felt his forehead. "Nope! No fever."

Rick's head was slowly clearing. What the hell did Delia think she was doing
in his room, waking him up in the middle of the night? He twisted his head and
knocked her hand off him, feeling an odd stinging sensation where his wrist
hit her arm. His whole body still felt strange. "Yeah? Well that doesn't prove
anything. I feel lousy, so I must be sick. Now get the hell out of here and
let me sleep or I'll make you'll pay for it."

Delia looked down at him with amusement, not at all sympathetically. "You
think so? I saw Debbie at the mall tonight. She sure looked different. You
wouldn't know where she got so much muscle, would you?"

He looked up at her. What was his sister after? "Yeah, she looked pretty buff,
like she's been working out. I played tennis with her this afternoon. I should
have quit while I was ahead, though. I started feeling sick in the middle of
the match. I should have just quit then."

"I guess -- if you're a quitter. Debbie said she really whipped you. She said
she beat you the last set without even losing a point. That means she must be
pretty good -- or you're pretty bad."

Rick snorted. "Yeah right. I told you, I'm sick."

"I don't think so, Rick. But from what she said, I gotta believe you're not as
strong as you used to be. You want to prove me wrong? How much you want to bet
I can take you?" She felt her lean, muscular arm. "You know I'm pretty strong,
Rick. Maybe too strong for you now."

"You are not. No way!" he said, bravely, knowing that if he let her think she
could win he'd never hear the end of it. He leaned up on his elbow, trembling
with the effort. Delia'a hand darted in and felt his biceps. Again, Rick was
astonished by how easy it seemed to be for her to compress it, and he winced
as her fingers squeezed all the way to the bone.

"Oh yeah!" she said sarcastically. "A real he-man muscle." she teased,
giggling. "You have no clue, do you? Why don't you feel mine? I think we
should compare." She turned on the light over his bed and leaned over his
headboard to put the flash down. Rick's eyes stole quickly to the open neck of
her top which flopped open. Although he felt a little bit ashamed of it, he
always took the opportunity to check out his sister's development, and his
residual arousal from this afternoon made him respond quickly to the sight of
her round, C-cup breasts hanging freely inside her shirt. She paused for a
moment, which allowed him to extend his peeping, then met his eyes and
snorted. "Pervert," she muttered. "Just makes me feel better about ...." Her
voice trailed off as she turned away and flexed her biceps, proud of the firm
rise in her upper arm that they made.

Rick grimly placed his fingers on her biceps and felt it, trying to encircle
it with his thumb to push hers in as she had done to him, but the span of his
fingers could not quite reach around. He pressed them together with increasing
effort. Somehow, he could compress it only part way and actually had to give
ground when she tightened her flex.

"See? I've got the better muscle; yours is the soft girlie one. I'm stronger
than Ricky, I'm stronger than Ricky!" she crowed.

"You are not! You've never been able to beat me in anything physical, just
remember that Deel," he said hotly. "You like to tease me, and like most
girls, you're a big talker. You may be able to play with my emotions, but I'll
take you any time in any contest. You think you're such a jock, but how many
trophies have you brought home, huh? I've won more big matches in two years on
the high school tennis team than your teams have won since you started
playing. And that's because I know how to win, and not just stand around and
giggle with my friends during games and cry afterwards when I lose." Rick felt
he was on a roll now. "And maybe I did blow it with Debbie, but how many dates
have you been on this year? Huh? Maybe your body isn't as great as you think.
Maybe you just don't have what it takes to be a winner."

"Oh ... you!" she said, her voice quivering. "You ... asshole!" she said, her
voice sounding a bit harder. She reached into her little breast pocket,
removed a small tube and smeared something on her mouth and hands, then put it
down on Rick's dresser. Rick thought the logo looked vaguely familiar and a
new scent in the air reminded him of Debbie.

"You think I don't have what it takes, well, let's see how much I can take.
Yeah. And don't take this the wrong way, brother," she added, gritting her
teeth, "but you asked for it." She pulled off his blanket and jumped on top of
him, locking her lips tightly to his, and stuck her hands under his loose
pants to grab his soft behind and grind his pelvis into hers. Out of complete
shock, Rick lay there passively for several seconds, but then felt a wave of
desire wash through him, one even more intense than he had this afternoon. It
was accompanied by that weird tingling he had felt when he had kissed Debbie,
spreading this time not only from his lips, but also from parts of his ass
where Delia gripped him. In spite of his weakness, his cock was as stiff as it
had ever been, and he struggled desperately, first to stop himself from coming
and embarrassing himself, and then, more urgently, to throw Delia off him and
reassert his superiority. He bucked against her violently, but for some reason
was barely able to move beneath her and was wholly incapable of pushing her
away. The tingling grew more intense until his entire pelvic region felt
electrified, and despite his best efforts he felt himself coming repeatedly,
but, bizarrely, without any dampness or stickiness.

Meanwhile, Delia was feeling like a crushing weight on top of him, getting
heavier all the time, and it was getting harder and harder for him even to
draw a breath. He struggled to slide his hands under her shoulders in order to
lift her off him, even a few inches, so that he could have room to breathe,
but his arms had as much success as if he were trying to lift a car. This was
impossible! Delia couldn't be that heavy and he couldn't be that weak, even if
he was sick. He couldn't get his arms underneath her to punch his fists into
her stomach and instead pounded on her back, which felt unaccountably hard,
but the blows did nothing to slow her down and he thought he even heard the
rumble of a chuckle in her throat. Her hands moved further down his body and
she grabbed his thighs tightly, kneading them with strong fingers while she
held him firmly in place. The tingling spread to his legs and his muscles felt
like jelly. Finally, she pinched him so deeply that he couldn't help but cry
out in pain. With that, she pressed him to her once more. He shuddered and she
pushed herself off him.

Rick's wounded pride roared within him. Even if he was ill, Delia could not be
allowed to handle him like this and just walk away. He hand darted out to
snare her arm and wrestle her back onto the bed. He'd show her a few fighting
moves then! He grabbed her upper arm and tried to wrap his hand around it.
Strangely he was unable to get any grip at all, and his fingers slipped off as
she sauntered away. No matter, he thought, and pushed his covers off to leap
out of bed and go after her. Somehow he got tangled up and was still half in
bed. Delia turned around at the noise of his struggle and laughed as he
withdrew his foot from the knot of sheets and blankets and landed on the
floor. Rick was seething with anger now and he tensed his legs to jump onto
his sister and tackle her. To his shock, he could barely rise from the floor
and staggered onto his feet, stumbling. He tottered unsteadily around the room
and then fell into Delia's arms.

"Wanna hug?" she asked, looking down at him with great amusement, holding him
in place, then put one hand on his back and pushed him into her. Rick gasped
as he crushed the air out of his lungs and the tingly feeling again spread
through him. He felt her body move against him, as though he was falling, and
craned his head upward. Was this some kind of nightmare? Delia looked like she
was at least a foot taller than he was. What happened to her?!! Her tank top
ended halfway between her waist and her breasts and the gap revealed a solid
wall of thick muscle. Directly in front of him, her breasts jutted out at him
sharply, the nipples etched against the fabric of her tank top, propelled from
her chest by slabs of pectoral muscle. His eyes strayed to her arms and his
mouth in astonishment when he saw her biceps, which even as she lightly held
him, bulged threateningly, twice the size he'd ever seen on his own arms when
he'd been working out regularly. Was he going crazy? He felt dizzy with fear.

"Hey Rick, did you lose something? You're such a LITTLE weakling, Ricky. So
small," she said, teasingly. "Tsk, tsk, tsk."

"I am NOT weak. You -- you've become some kind of freak!" he said, trying to
free his arms. Delia let him go and he backed away from her slowly. His legs
felt like lead. He was barely able to lift them off the ground.

"Freak?!" she said, pretending to be offended. "I prefer ... well-built." She
extended her arm toward him and admired the rolling curves of her muscles,
then slowly lifted her hand and flexed. The ball of muscle already starkly
visible in her upper arm gathered force and rose higher and higher, a solid
mass of power. "OK, so maybe extremely well-built."

She reached toward him and wiggled her fingers. "Are you still ticklish Rick?"
He backed away clumsily but soon was cornered next to his bed and dresser. She
moved her hand toward him slowly, giving him ample time to try to stop her. He
held his hands in front of him to intercept her, but she kept dodging him. He
felt as though he was moving so slowly, as though he were underwater. Finally,
he caught her hand and immediately saw that it was half again as large as his.
He'd always been able to hold both of hers in one hand, leaving his other free
to tickle her at will, but quickly he saw that this was impossible. Instead,
he used his free hand to jab at her. Unfortunately, his thrust fell about
three inches short and Delia snatched it, then closed her hand around his
other hand and transferred it to the one that held the first one. "I've always
wanted to do this!" she exclaimed happily and held his arms above his head,
jabbing him unmercifully under his arms and on his sides above his hips. Rick
moved spasmodically, unable to suppress his laughter, while he shouted at her
to stop. He was laughing so much his legs were buckling. Only Delia's firm
grip held him off the floor.

"Oh god! No! Please! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. Auggh! No. Oh no! Please Deel -" he
gasped. "You've got to -- ha-ha-ha-ha-ha -- I can't --

Delia stopped for a moment and looked down at her brother. He seemed so
pathetic as he leaned against his dresser and tried mightily to catch his
breath. Should she really go on with this? Maybe she had done enough. She let
go of him. "That'll do -- for now," she warned. She laughed and folded her
arms across her chest.

Rick's chest was still heaving. He just couldn't catch his breath, and his
heart was pounding faster than he had ever remembered. What was going on? He
felt nothing but a blinding rage. How had Delia built so much muscle so
quickly? He felt humiliated, and insanely jealous. "You're -- just -- like --
Debbie!" he gasped. "Crazy -- bitches -- pumping -- up -- with -- male --
hormones."

"Is that what you think?" she laughed. "Wrong Ricky," she sang out. "I'm still
100% girl," she said, wiggling her hips and then her shoulders, "but I'm also
a very strong girl!" She took Rick's barbells, which had been gathering dust
in the corner of his room for months, and easily hoisted his two-arm curling
weight above her head with one hand. "Yes!" she cried out happily, pressing it
to the ceiling and holding it there.

Rick stared at her. "Y-you're stronger than me!" he said, starting to shake a
little.

"Well ... duh! Stronger than you were, stronger than you are, and stronger
than you'll ever, ever, ever be!" She pumped it up and down a few times, then
put it down and rolled it slowly toward her brother. Rick bent down to try to
stop it, but it slipped right through his hands and banged into his leg,
tripping him. "Strike! Oh I can't resist. It's going to be so much fun paying
you back for all those years you tortured me." She traced her fingers up her
arm along the ridges of her large forearm and around her softball sized
biceps, then tensing them suddenly. She grinned as they exploded in size.
"When you were into the bodybuilding thing, you always liked working on your
biceps. They ARE cute, aren't they. Want to feel how hard they are?"

Rick crawled back to his feet, leaning against the dresser. "N-now Delia! It's
not fair. I'm sick. You start something now, and when I get better I'll just
--

Delia flexed harder, probing the large ball of muscle with her fingers. "I've
got news for you, brother dear. The good news is you're not sick. I'm sure of
it. And the bad news is ... you're not getting better. I can promise that
too."

"What do you know about it?" Rick said challengingly. He tried to sound
confident, but he couldn't stop himself from trembling. This day had been so
strange ever since he started playing tennis, and seeing his sister so
immensely muscled and acting so bold was starting to frighten him.

"Well," she said playfully, "let's start with you. Let's see how strong you
are." She pulled off his shirt, which hung on him like a gown. "Whooops! Look
at that skinny bod!"

Rick looked down at himself and almost fell over from the shock. His chest was
just skin, bones and a bit of fat, with a little pouch around his belly and a
droop in his triceps. His arms were so skinny that his wrists were practically
the widest part and his legs looked like he were a starvation victim. He
collapsed onto his bed, sitting. "What's happened to me?" he wailed. "What do
I have?"

"Precious little, I'd say," she said, teasing him unsympathetically. "But
let's be scientific, Rick. Make a muscle for me. Let's see what happens."

He nodded, eager to do something. He brought his arm to a 90 degree angle and
flexed as hard as he could and saw a tiny rise where there used to be a
handsome firm muscle. "Look! There's nothing there!"

"I wouldn't say 'nothing,'" Delia said and bent over it. "You've still got a
little bit of muscle there. Maybe your sister's kiss will make it better." She
held his arm and locked her lips onto it. Rick struggled futilely to pull his
arm away; his sister's patronizing, "maternalistic" attitude annoyed him. Then
he felt that weird tingly feeling again.

"Cut it out, Delia! What are you --" He stopped, feeling another wave of
weakness wash through him and he slumped down, barely able to sit up straight.
Delia held him up and put his free hand on her arm. He could feel it pulsing,
growing beneath his hand! What the heck was going on?

"Mmmmmm hmmmm," she said, lifting her head. "That's better now, I think. Try
again."

He glared at her, but obediently he did as she suggested. This time, nothing
happened. Nothing at all. She nodded. "Yup. I think that's it. All gone." She
smiled and played with her own biceps, bouncing them up and down. Rick could
swear they looked even larger than before. She stood up straighter, and flexed
more fully. She WAS bigger. Her biceps were now half the size of his head! And
she was even taller than before. She cupped her breasts and pounded on her
rock-hard abdomen. "Ahhh! That feels so good." She reached out and put her arm
around Rick, lifting him and holding him next to her in the crook of her arm.
Her firm breast pushed into his chest and he had trouble expanding his chest
against it to breathe.

"H-h-how did this happen?" he asked plaintively. Delia smiled as she
straightened his soft, skinny arm, now little more than half the length of
hers and one third as wide. She played with it, encircling it with her large,
strong fingers, and jiggling the fat underneath his upper arm, then pushed it
between her forearm and her biceps and crushed it by flexing her biceps
against it. Rick screamed in pain. "Oh god!! What are you doing to me?"

"I'm just flexing my little muscle, Rick. It shouldn't hurt. It's only a
playful cuddle with my soft girlie biceps."

"N-n-nooo! They're so hard, they're going to cut my arm in two! Please!" Rick
begged.

Delia let up slightly. "Imagine that. So you're actually admitting that my
girlie muscles are so hard that they're pushing all the way through your big,
masculine biceps and hurting you?"

"Yes! Yes!" he cried. "Just let my arm go!" Delia opened her arm and Rick slid
his upper arm out slowly, his flattened biceps purple. "Look what you did!"

Delia peered at it. "Oh it's just a little bruise. No worse than I've gotten
from you when you used to sit on me and squeeze my arms to show me how soft
they were. I can tell you from experience that it'll heal in just a few days."

"Oh god! What's happened to me?"

"You really want to know? It's something new and great. It's a lip gloss,
called 'Power Me.' You know Debbie's Dad bought out The Body Shop, that
natural personal care product company? It turned out they had developed a
power transfer product but the last owner didn't bring it to market because of
some ethical concerns. I can't imagine what they were! Anyway, they're going
to start selling it soon. Debbie used a sample of Power Me PMF2 on you today,
you know, when she kissed you between games. Each time, she took away a little
bit of your strength and added twice as much of it to herself. I can't believe
you didn't notice anything, but she's so pretty, you probably even looked
forward to it. When I saw her at the mall, she game me some Power Me PMF25 to
finish the job."

"Power Me PMF 25? What does that mean?" Rick asked weakly.

"PMF means power multiplication factor 25. You know, like SPF, sun protection
factor, on sun block? It gave me twenty-give times as much power as it took
away from you. So you lost another 5 pounds or so of muscle, pretty much all
you had left, while I gained about 125 pounds of muscle! It really works! I
can't wait to tell my friends."

"Oh god! What am I going to do?!"

"Not much," Delia chuckled. It's not only muscle you've lost, but also bone
density, hemoglobin, endurance. Your heart is lot weaker too. It has to race
just to keep the blood flowing through your little body. I doubt there's much
margin for any exercise. You don't want to give yourself a heart attack, you
know. Feel my pulse, slow, strong. If Debbie's right, we should be able to
sprint for half an hour without even beginning to elevate our heart rates,
even carrying all this extra muscle weight."

"But how will I be able to exercise to get my strength back?"

"Oh Rick! Forget about that! It takes muscle to build muscle, and you have
hardly any left. Even if you could double your muscle, it would still leave
you with no more than the strength of a little girl. And how long do you think
that would take, assuming your heart held out. But think of it this way, the
two of us together are about ten times as strong as we were this morning. So
our family is stronger than ever," she concluded with a satisfied grin. "Now,
I'm going to call Debbie and find out how her date with Tony went. I wonder if
she used some on him." She gave one more satisfied flex and walked to the
door.

Rick spotted the tube of Power Me on his dresser. It was his only chance. He
picked it up. Too late, Delia realized she'd left it behind and turned around.
"Don't touch that, Rick!" she shouted and ran back to him, but he was too
quick. He emptied the tube onto his palm and placed it against her bare
shoulder as she reached him. Oh! He imagined that in seconds, power would flow
back into him. Not only what he'd lost, but Delia's stupendous strength
multiplied twenty-five times! He'd be like a god, the most powerful person on
the planet! He opened himself to the flow and sank to the floor, clutching
Delia's leg as he descended . . . and felt the most intense tingling flow
through him like a bolt of lightning. Was this it?

"You idiot!" Delia boomed, her voice exploding in his ears. He lay on the
floor, staring at Delia's leg which, instead of shrinking, was bursting larger
and larger with more muscle before his eyes. "Power Me PMF -- PMF also stands
for Power from Male to Female! It only works one way. Oh god! It's going to
take the last shred of power from your body." She lifted him gently into her
arms as they swelled with muscle. Her thirty-five inch biceps were the last
sight he saw before his sight dimmed and his heart stopped.

Delia looked down at the thin wisp of the body that had been her brother and
sighed. "Well, no point wasting it." She held his palm to her cheek and
quickly absorbed the last muscle fibers from his body. The dried bone and skin
was unrecognizable and fit easily into her brother's sandwich bag, which she
tossed into the bin.

"And I really thought that after a while we could have become closer," she
mused as she hurried to phone her friends.

End