★Memorable Author: [Marknew] Stories~collected

[Marknew742]

Marknew742 is at * WRITING dot COM *

[zarina]

Stories in this collection:

THE SERUM

Tara's Lathe


This is an old Marknew story from a ways back.   Enjoy

THE SERUM
by Marknew


I'll start out with a confession.  I'm a nerd.  A shrimp and a
nerd.  A classic, plastic pocket protector nerd.  Hair that won't
stay in place.  Black glasses.  Bad complexion.  You name it;
that's me.  I'm short, only 5'6" and slight.  The maddening thing
is that I started out pretty tall.  I was as tall as I am now
when I was in fifth grade.  Then I towered over all the kids, and
the girls all wanted to be seen with me because I looked like I
was older.  Then something happened.  I don't know why, but I
stopped growing and soon everyone else was maturing, passing me,
growing taller, stronger.  Even the girls.  And not only was I
small.  I was weak too.  I stayed five and a half feet tall with
the physique of a twelve year old.  Soft skinny arms, a few curly
facial hairs.  And acne of course. 

Gym class was a horror.  Some modern assistant principal decided
we should have coed classes.  For me, keeping up with the
maturing guys was a joke, but even the girls I had lorded over
just a few years ago now enjoyed pushing me in the mud or
challenging me to arm wresting.  Desperate that I was I would
accept, taking any opportunity life handed me to feel that cool
feminine flesh.  And ninety percent of the time they'd beat me.
I'd watch with dismay as the muscle I didn't have would rise in
their arms and they'd triumphantly crush my hand into the table,
then push me to the ground and sit on my chest until I'd beg to
be set free.  Being humiliated didn't excite me.  It was just
that as far as contact with the opposite sex, that was all I had.

I remember one horrible afternoon with Barb Messig.  She's a
model now, 6'1", blond, ripped and gorgeous, with a sexier name.
Even in eighth grade she was three inches taller than me and she
was stockier than she is today.  We had "gone out" a few times in
fifth grade, when she was a little blond kid with glasses and no
breasts, until I dropped her for a sixth grader who had started
wearing a bra, and I guess she hadn't forgotten it.  We were in
chemistry lab class after school hours.  About six of us had
missed regular lab for various reasons during the year and were
now making it up.  Because my experiment had been done earlier in
the year, the equipment I needed was stored away on a high shelf
in a cabinet.  Barb saw me standing on a chair, struggling to
lower a large supply box to the lab table.  She must have
motioned to everyone to stand around her, then she walked up
behind me and as I lowered the box unsteadily, she snatched out
of my hands, balancing it in one hand like a waitress holds an
empty tray.

"Having some trouble Eddie?", she said mockingly.  I looked up at
the box poised over my head and reached up futilely to get it,
while I looked enviously at the small bulge on her upper arm that
gave her the strength to show me up so easily.  "I wouldn't want
you to tax yourself.  Why don't you let me set it down here for
you."  She put it on the table, then, catching me off balance,
butted me with her hip, the strength of her well-toned thigh and
the heft of her lovely bottom sending me crashing to the ground.
To the laughter of the rest of the crowd I looked up at her
perfect body while she stood with her hand on her cocked hip
grinning at me.

"Poor little Edgar Brown.  You're so weak.  Like somebody put a
spell on you three years ago.  I know I wanted to.  Wouldn't you
do anything now to get your hands on these melons?"  She spread
her palm across her round teen breasts and I felt my crotch
tighten.  "Here, let me help you up so you can get a closer
look."  She held out her hand, grabbed my wrist and pulled me up.
"I'll let you feel them.  All you have to do is break my hold." 

With all my strength I pulled with my right arm and used my left
hand to pry apart her fingers.  Just when I thought I had opened
her hand enough to yank my arm out, she closed it tight, catching
both my wrists. 

"Ha!  I caught you with just one hand."  She squeezed and I felt
pain shooting from my wrists up and down my arms.  I gritted my
teeth, determined not to cry out.  "You're being so brave, Eddie,
but I know I'm hurting you."  She squeezed tighter.  I could
swear I was seeing stars.

Pam Gunderson, her lab partner, laughed.  "Whoa Barb.  Look at
the tears.  You're making him cry!"

"I know.  I want to know what he'll give me if I stop.  How about
it Eddie?  You want to pay me twenty dollars to stop?  The price
will go up two bucks a second."  I nodded vigorously.  She smiled
and pushed me away.  "I don't want your money, worm, but if I do
want anything from you, just remember what I can do to you.  Come
on Pam, let's finish up and get out of here before we get the
cooties from Edgar."

Everyone steered clear of me.  I finished up late and dreamed
about revenge, but to tell the truth, I was too scared of her,
and everyone else, to do anything.  I knew that whatever I did I
would lose in the end.

That episode made me determined to build myself up.  I tried
everything. I'd spend time at the weight machine, but although I
got a little stronger, I never gained any real muscle.  Even when
I started drinking those special protein shakes, all they did was
make me fat, and the side effects from steroids frightened me
away from them.  Soon I retreated into myself, fantasizing about
magic growth spells and genies that would answer my wishes.  Of
course nothing like that ever happened.

Meanwhile, I pursued my scientific studies, enrolling in special
weekend science classes at the university and leaving high school
a year early to study at M.I.T.  I earned a degree in three years
and then entered a biochemistry program at the University of
Michigan, pursuing studies and writing papers on amino acids and
endocrinology.  Although I wouldn't admit it to anyone, I was
really looking for some compound to radically stimulate muscle
growth.

Personally, nothing much changed.  At age 25 I was still five and
a half feet tall, and weighed one hundred fifteen pounds.  I'd
had one affair with a student in my section who was even smaller
than I was, a shy, fairly wealthy girl named Norma Willens who
seemed to be impressed by my way with organic chemistry.  Norma
was one of the brightest students in the college.  One day, while
she was working late at the lab on a project, we began talking
about my work and I was shocked to find that she understood the
implications right away and offered more than a few valuable
suggestions.  We continued the discussions over pizza and coffee,
and before I knew it I had a girlfriend.

Norma was less than five feet tall and weighed only eighty
pounds.  Her figure was quite petite, with a waist of only twenty
one inches and breasts barely large enough to fill her A cup, but
she was a willing and enthusiastic lover. For the first time in
my life I had a regular sex life.  Next to her, I felt like a
normal man, and I insisted on playing all sorts of games to
demonstrate my greater strength.  I would make her arm wrestle
me, pretend to be losing, then quickly snap her hand back down on
the table.  Or I would surprise her when she walked into my
apartment, wrestling her down on the ground and forcing off her
clothes, easily holding off the resistance from her thin arms and
legs.  I wouldn't rape her or anything.  If she told me she was
unwilling, I'd stop right away.  Granted, I don't think she liked
those sessions much.  But overall, she probably found my small
size less intimidating and less painful than most men, so she
played along.  Meanwhile, I was amazed at her intuitive
understanding of biochemistry, and shared with her all of my
research, other than my own personal goal, and started to make
tremendous new strides. 

Norma wouldn't tolerate any favoritism in class, and insisted on
transferring out of my section.  That's probably what led to the
problem.  We had been dating about six months and Norma was
pressing me to move into her spacious apartment, when another
student - a cheerleader of course - started making eyes at me.  I
should have realized she was just looking for a better grade, but
I quickly dumped Norma for Debbie, only to be cut loose myself
once the grades were published.  Realizing I had made a mistake,
I went straight to Norma's apartment to ask her to forgive me.
She stared at me with absolute hatred, and quietly stated that no
one had ever treated her the way I had, and she would get her
revenge.  Then she slammed the door in my face.  Her answer
seemed pretty final.  I gave up and went home.

The next few days were difficult.  The months with Norma and then
Debbie had broken the routine of my solitary life, and I had no
desire to return to it.  With a new dedication, I returned to my
project and suddenly found I was near success.  For a week, I
spent 24 hours a day at the campus, alternating between
laboratory work and the mainframe, sleeping at my work station
for a few hours whenever exhaustion overcame my excitement.  By
the end of the week I had isolated the chemical ingredients I
needed for my potion.  I carefully mixed those I could get from
the laboratory supplies into a four ounce beaker and left at two
in the morning with the small vial of precious clear liquid,
needing only the distillate of the pistils of a thousand lilies
to complete the formula.  I carried my cargo home, put it in the
refrigerator, which would preserve it for a day, and planned to
sleep for a few hours until the florists opened.

Naturally, in the unaccustomed comfort of my bed, I slept until
one.  Beside myself with excitement, I called all the florists in
town.  Amazingly, all were completely sold out of lilies, except
for one store that had two dozen left.  That shop, which was on
the outskirts of town, then called back and promised to get me
all the lilies I needed, but refused to deliver them, so I drove
thirty minutes to the store and waited there over two hours only
to learn that his suppliers had called back to say they could not
get them today.  I was delirious with impatience, but seeing
there was nothing I could do, I took the two dozen lilies.  I
decided to go to the lab to make a small dose of my serum and
tidy up my records but then had another horrible surprise.
Somehow, all of my work had been wiped off the computer.  I was
able to salvage an eighth of an ounce of serum from the old
batch, but unless I could reconstruct my prior week's work, my
discovery would be lost.

The initial batch would spoil in a few hours and there was
nothing I could do about that, so I decided to extract what I
needed from the lilies and prepared the serum.  Knowing what
would come, I closed the test tube and ran down to the local
MacDonald's, where I ordered five super size value meals.  I
carried the food to the back of the restaurant and gulped down
the serum.  As I had expected, I immediately felt famished and
started tearing open the food right away.  The effect was
remarkable.  I could almost sense my body expand.  Before I knew
it, I had grown almost an inch and saw the faint suggestion of
real muscles on my arms.  If only I had the full dose, I thought,
but at least this was a start.  I felt confident that if I had
done it once, I could do it again.

A little taller and prouder, I drove slowly home.  As I
approached my building, I noticed clusters of flower petals
blowing in the street, and then, in front, piles of plant stems.
I shook my head, wondering at the coincidence, and climbed the
two flights to my apartment.  The fragrance grew stronger with
each step until I reached my floor, and was now combined with the
smokey odor of grilled meat.  There, in front of me, were
hundreds of petals from lilies.  What could this mean?  I opened
the door and saw Norma on the opposite side of the apartment,
wearing a running singlet and shorts and lounging on a chair with
my beaker in her hand, the liquid now a bright yellow from the
pistil distillate.

"I thought you'd never get back.  I really don't like to drink
alone."

"What are you doing with that?  Give it to me."

"Forget it Edgar.  And don't get too close.  I can drink this
down a lot more quickly than you can get to me."

"But...."

"Sit down on the floor, right by the door, and I'll explain.
You're very careless you know.  Not changing your locks after we
broke up, not changing your passwords either.  I was keeping
close tabs on your work every day, even adding some ideas of my
own while you slept.  It wasn't all your genius that produced
this serum, you know.  And I made a copy before I erased the
files. Unless you understand my contributions as well as I
understand yours, I doubt you'll be able to duplicate the work.
I bet you were too excited and self-important to realize that not
all of those creative turns in your work this week were yours.

"But the flowers.  Where'd you get the flowers?  They're sold out
everywhere."

"Why do you think they're sold out?  I knew that lilies were the
key several days ago and made sure all of the shops would be sold
out, to me, the day I let you finish.  Just to make sure you'd be
away, I arranged to send you on that wild goose chase across town
for two dozen lilies.  Hmm.  You look a little bigger.  You must
have taken it already.  It looks like the protein
ingestion/incorporation equations were spot on; I don't see you
growing any more."

I nodded in agreement.  "Yes, I've stopped after growing one
inch.  But Norma.  There's four ounces there.  You don't need it
all.  Please, just one ounce. You would still have three.
Please.  It would make all the difference to me."

"I know that, Edgar. A quarter ounce of this would let you grow
to about five feet nine.  You could be average.  An ounce would
make you as big as a football player, and much stronger too; the
effect on muscle being much greater than on bone.  Girls like
Debbie really go for that.  But I don't want to give you any of
it.  As you know, the effect of this serum is so much more
pronounced on males than females.  Try as I did, I couldn't
change that, and I really am so tired of being small."

"I'm begging you Norma."

"I know you are Edgar.  I hear you loud and clear.  This was your
lifetime dream, and I hold it in my hands.  I planned to make
this your birthday present, but when you betrayed me with your
little affair with Debbie you gave me different ideas.  Well,
here's looking at you, kid."  She quickly tipped the beaker to
her mouth.  I let out a scream and raced toward her as she
swallowed the contents.  Momentarily startled, she tapped the
beaker to make sure it was empty, then reached up to grab a
basket filled with meat next to her, but I got to her first and
knocked it away, pinning her underneath me.  She howled with
disappointment, then with hunger.  I kicked the food further out
of her reach and sat on her.  Her cries were pitiful, but I knew
that once the critical fifteen minute period ended the serum
would have no effect on her and I could safely let her eat.  I
steeled myself to be deaf to her pleas.  After ten minutes of her
deafening moans, she fainted.

Another ten minutes passed, she opened her eyes and looked at me
with hatred even more intense than the last time I'd seen her.
"It's war, Edgar.  You hurt me as a woman before, but you
tortured me as a human being just now.  Your life is over as far
as I'm concerned."

"Is that so?  And what about you?  What generous thing have you
done for me of late?"

"What do you know about what I intended?  Maybe I was just
teasing you before.  I wanted to see just how low you'd stoop,
but you always surprise me and go lower than I thought possible."
She walked over to the basket and started to pick at the meat
with her fingers.  "Keeping me away from this while my body
screamed for nourishment.  That takes a truly heartless
individual.  And to think, I gave my body to you."  Her hand was
shaking slightly as she continued to nibble away at the food.

"You're so self-righteous.  I tried to apologize but you wouldn't
hear it.  And how would you expect me to react when you'd stolen
the formula right from under my nose?"

"I had expected you to be a gentleman, always.  Evidently I
expected too much."

I glared at her and she met my eyes, stare for stare, breaking
eye contact only to stuff bits of meat into her mouth.  I looked
down at the bowl, startled to see it was empty.  She calmly
reached behind her to grab a long roll of salami and started
biting into it, swallowing the soft meat almost without chewing
it.  Fearing I had been tricked again, I flew across the room and
pushed her onto the floor, pinning her again a few feet away from
the food.  She swallowed what was in her mouth, then looked up at
me sweetly.  "Enjoy holding me down while you can Edgar.  I feel
it working.  You know, you shouldn't have believed everything in
the computer simulations of the serum's reaction period.  After
all, remember who wrote them."

I could feel something shifting below me.  It was Norma, growing.
I could feel her feet moving slowly down along my leg as her legs
got longer, her chest pushing up against mine as it thickened.
She had stopped struggling and was now completely relaxed, lying
comfortably beneath me just waiting for the serum to have its
full effect.  I looked to her side to see new muscles in her
upper arms pushing the thin outline of her veins closer to the
surface of her skin, becoming clearer and more distinct with each
second. I could see her growing biceps stretching her skin
outward.  I gulped when I saw that they were already larger than
mine.

[zarina]

"You feel lighter and lighter Edgar.  Are you on a diet?"
Clucking her tongue with satisfaction, she put her right hand in
bck of me and squeezed my ass.  "Nope.  Soft as ever."  I winced
at the power in her fingers and at the same time saw the peak of
her new bicep pop as she tensed her hand.  Her feet now met mine
and she stared smugly into my eyes.  Then with one fluid motion,
she cupped my ass and rolled to her feet bringing me up with her,
my crotch pressed firmly against her hip.  I pushed against her
chest, trying to get free, but with one hand she held me locked
against her in an iron grip.  She walked across the room carrying
me and returned to her eating, while I futilely tried to break
her hold and get free.  Now I could see her whole body growing.
Her legs were getting longer as well as thicker and I was rising
off the floor.  Her singlet and shorts stretched and snapped.  I
couldn't believe the size of her arms and chest, the hard, round
muscles of her biceps ever expanding, while mine looked smaller
and smaller as I flailed helplessly against her.  Strong enough
now to hold me over her head with one hand, she pressed me
against the ceiling and reached down to scoop handful after
handful of hamburger meat into her mouth. I reached down trying
to keep her hand from her mouth, but she just brushed me aside
like a fly, and soon she had grown so much that all I could reach
was the rock-hard bicep on the arm that held me.  Finishing her
bowl of meat, she stepped into the kitchen. She pulled a large
roast out the oven and started eating it like an ice cream bar.
She finished it in minutes, then took out a second, a third, a
fourth and a fifth.  She threw me across the room to the couch
and proceeded to the refrigerator, where she had stored more pre-
cooked meat on each shelf, and then to bags and bags of groceries
packed with cheese, milk and a few cases of protein enriched
shakes.  I watched with bitter envy as she continued to eat and
grow.  Finally, forty five minutes later, she stopped and turned
to me.

"Ok Edgar.  Based on what I've bought, I'd say I weigh about six
hundred pounds, and assuming you have eight foot ceilings, I'm
about seven feet ten inches tall."

"You told me it didn't work as well on...."

"I lied, obviously.  Some last minute changes in the serum.  And
the lilies were very fresh."  She turned to me, looking very
serious, and said, "Now, Edgar, are you ready to arm wrestle?  As
I recall, you lead the series seventeen to nothing."

"I have no chance against you now!  What's the point?"

"The point?  Hah!  I always wondered that myself Edgar, but I
played along with you.  Oh, never mind.  I really have no
interest in that sort of thing.  I have other plans."  She
widened her smile and flexed her arms proudly, each one as thick
as my skinny frame.  "Wouldn't you like to touch them, Edgar?
Feel for yourself how hard they are, how large."  She reached
back and picked up my floor lamp, an antique made of cast iron,
as if it were a twig and bent it in half.  "And strrrrong too!"

"Those were supposed to be my muscles!" I wailed.

Norma smiled greedily.  "Yes they were, they surely were. And
they might have been if you had been faithful to me."  She put
her hand under my crotch and lifted me so that I was staring into
her eyes, cradling me in her one arm as a mother would hold a
newborn baby.  It seemed to take no effort on her part, but she
flexed her arm anyway so that I could see her hard muscle leap
out from her arm, a mountain of hard power.  "Look at me now,
Edgar, and tell me how you feel."

I should have kept quiet, but I was so raw from disappointment
and lack of sleep that I couldn't keep my mouth shut.  "How do
you think I feel!  You've taken everything I've always dreamed
about, and you're standing here taunting me with your size, your
strength!"  I tried to turn away but she held me against her, her
arm now encircling my waist, my feet banging futilely against her
rock-hard thighs.

"Stop kicking me!  It's annoying," she barked and squeezed the
air out of me to make her point.  "Go on."

I coughed weakly.  "I'm sorry.  I just can't believe it, ok?  I
just never thought I would discover anything that worked and now
here it is, but you got it instead of me."

I looked into her large face.  She looked kinder.  "You've said
enough.  Now, to show you I'm not so horrible as you, I have a
surprise for you.  I wanted to see how you'd react, and for once
you were honest with me.  I have another ounce of the serum and
I'll give it to you.  Maybe if you behave, I'll give you more
another day."  She put me down, reached into a backpack and
withdrew a small beaker with a golden yellow serum.  "Drink this.
There's a bag of food still in the kitchen for you."

My eyes popped.  This was unbelievable!  She'd had her fun, and
now I'd get my wish!  I quickly drank it down and waited for the
feeling of strength to course through my veins.  Suddenly, I felt
weak instead, nauseous and dizzy.  I passed out and faded in and
out of consciousness.  What was going on, I thought in my few
lucid moments. Finally, I came too, still feeling dizzy and
strange.  I tried to walk but fell to the floor and remember
being picked up and driven somewhere.  I couldn't tell how much
time went by, but the next thing I saw clearly was an IV going
into my arm.  I was vaguely aware of days and nights, then
finally came to full consciousness.  The IV was gone.

I eased myself slowly off a bed and heard a distant bell ring.  I
felt incredibly weak and staggered to a chair across the room.  A
couple of minutes later the door opened.  It was Norma, carrying
a tray with soup and crackers.

"Well.  At last.  I was wondering when you'd come out of it."

"Where am I?  What happened to me?"

"You're in one of my family's houses, in the country.  How do you
feel Edgar?"

"Weak.  Incredibly weak."

Norma grinned.  "I should think so.  Look at your arms."

I looked down.  They were like matchsticks.  "What have you done
to me!"

"Ha, ha!  It worked," she boomed.  "You're even smaller than
before.  It was just a little stomach virus, but it kept you
incapacitated for three weeks.  I've kept you alive on fluids,
while you've consumed all the new muscle you grew, and then some.
In effect, I've turned your muscle into shit!  You're smaller now
than I used to be!"

"No!  No!  You couldn't have!"

"Oh no?  Go weigh yourself Edgar."  I stumbled into the bathroom.
I couldn't believe it.  I weighed seventy pounds.  She opened the
door and reached inside, her hand now easily encircling my waist
and pinning my arms at my sides, she pulled me out.  "I was
waiting to see what you'd do when I took the serum, how you'd
react.  So selfish, aren't you.  Did you even think to apologize
for leaving me for that slut Debbie?  For dumping modest little
Norma for that cheerleader?  No, you still cared only about your
own little dream.  I figured as much but I wasn't sure and
thought I'd give you a chance.  And now my little pet, I have you
here for some more fun.  Ariana, you can come in now."

I'd heard about Ariana.  She was eighteen and was bigger than
Norma used to be.  Norma always complained she was spoiled and
had been bullying Norma even since she was twelve.  I noticed she
had an unpleasant expression.

"This is my sister, Ariana.  She'll be staying with us for
awhile.  I've told her all about you, Edgar.  She's eager to get
to know you."  Norma let me go and gave me a push toward Ariana.
I tripped and fell against her.  She made a face.

"He smells, Norma."

"Then tell him to take a shower.  He's your responsibility now."

"But what if he doesn't listen to me?" she whined.  "Then what
will I do?"

Norma sighed.  "Figure it out Ariana.  We'll talk about it
later."  She walked out, leaving us alone.

"What did Norma mean, 'I'm your responsibility.'"

"It means you have to do what I tell you.  Like if I tell you to
call me Miss Willens, you have to do it." 

I scowled.  "No way, Ariana."

"No!  That's not right!"  Her voice was rising.  "Don't make me
punish you!"

"Punish me?  Give me a break."  I turned to walk out the door,
but she put her hand on my shoulder and pulled me back.

"Ha!  You are weak!"  She grabbed my upper arm.  "It's like,
you're a man, but you have no muscle at all."

"I've been sick."

"Right."  She pulled me down onto my knees.  "Now, say you're
sorry and you'll do what I say."  I shook my head.  She put her
hand on my neck and pushed my head to her feet.  I struggled to
get up, but her arm was stronger than my pitifully weakened body.


"Lick my shoes."  She was choking me.  I stretched my tongue out,
but before I reached her shoe, I passed out.

I came to slowly.  Norma and Ariana were talking.

"He was just starting to obey when he fainted."

"Good work."

"So can I have my reward now?"

"Be patient.  I want his spirit broken, his body too if
necessary.  You know what you have to do."

She walked out and I heard Ariana walk toward me.  "You're up?
Good.  Now take off your clothes."  I lay, inert.  "You don't get
it, do you?  No one's going to help you here.  Norma's used your
computer account to get you a one year leave of absence.  She
logs in once in a while so they think you're working.  You have
to do what I say or I'll just beat you up again and again."

"I won't always be this weak.  Sure, Norma can thrash me with her
pinky, but you won't be able to, once I get my strength back.
Unless of course, you two plan to starve me."

"I wouldn't do that, although I could."  She sat down next to me,
rolled up her sleeve and looked at her arm.  It was a normal
girl's arm.  "I admit I'm not so strong as Norma now, but I can
take you in a second.  Now, shall I twist your arm behind your
back and break it, or will you strip for me willingly?"

I looked at my tiny arm, as thin as her wrist, and started to
unzip my pants. Ariana smiled.  "Good.  Now finish the job, take
a shower and wait for me, right here on the floor."  She walked
out of the room.  I did as she asked, dried myself and sat naked
on the floor. 

Ariana returned a few minutes later with a stack of papers. "I
want you to do my schoolwork for me.  I've enrolled in five
science courses this semester.  I need five A's.  I can handle
the lab work and I test well, but I hate writing my results up
and I hate homework.  You'll do that for me.  You'll also write
up my thesis proposal and some reports. 

"You want me to do your work for you?"

"Yes.  That's not all.  You're going to sew for me, do my
laundry.  I assume you can balance a checkbook.  I also love
massages.  You know, sometimes I can lie down for hours getting a
massage."

"What do you think I am, your slave?"

"Stand up!" she ordered.  I lay there, passively.  She reached
down and pulled me to her feet. Oh, oh, I thought, she's stronger
than she looked.  She crashed her fist into my chin, easily
punching through my arms, then doubled me over with a punch to my
tender stomach.  I collapsed on the floor again.  She picked me
up again and pushed me into a chair.  Looming over me, she
slapped my face again and again.

"Come on.  I want to see you defend yourself.  This is too easy."

She put her hand next to my face waiting to hit me again.  I
grabbed at her wrist, but she just broke away, hitting me again.
"Stop.  Please stop," I cried.  "I've been sick.  Don't hit me
again."

"You just brought it on yourself.  Anyway, with all the blood I
don't really want to touch you.  I'll stop for now, but I'll
start again worse if you try to resist me.  As you can see, I
kind of enjoy it.  But what I really want is for you to do what I
say.  Understand?"  I nodded.  "Good.  Now clean yourself up.
Wipe that blood off your face and meet me down the hall.  I'm
ready for that massage."

So this was how my summer went.  It was totally humiliating.  I
was Ariana's prisoner, her toy, her slave.  I hated her, but
there was nothing I could do.  Whenever I displayed even the
slightest rebellion, she would rub her hands together, apparently
thankful I had given her the occasion for another beating, and
then demonstrate her complete physical domination of me.  After a
month or so of painful defeats I stopped challenging her.
Meanwhile, I was locked inside the house.  The windows were
barred, the doors sealed by a code.  She delighted in finding new
ways to taunt me, especially when she found tasks I was too weak
to perform.  Then in August, she dropped a letter from my college
on my bed, confirming my e-mailed resignation and my wiring
instructions for a pay-out of my pension, to one of Norma's
accounts I assumed.  Now I was unemployed and broke too.

The only positive thing was that my health and strength were
returning.  Ariana fed me well, and the room down the hall where
I gave Ariana her massages also had exercise equipment, which I
used without objection from Ariana.  The hours of massages I gave
her were good conditioning for my arms and with some weight
training, I was regaining the muscle I'd acquired from the small
dose of serum.  Ariana was strong for a girl, but by the end of
the summer, I was growing confident I would be able to hold my
own against her.  Meanwhile, I waited to the right moment to
challenge her again.  I never saw Norma and assumed she lived at
another family house. 

Late in August, Ariana seemed to grow more careless.  I noticed
that she would prop the door open to avoid keying in the long
code to come and go.  Her body was feeling softer to me during
the massages, and I noticed a roll of fat around her stomach.
She was still verbally nasty to me, but she was shying away from
physical confrontations, perhaps noticing my greater strength,
and would instead lock me in the room for long periods.  Then one
night, she baited me unceasingly, laughing about how I had let
her bully me for weeks on end, not even daring to challenge her
even when I had the advantage.

"You know, Edgar, you're not only weak, you're also pretty
stupid.  Norma and I have taken everything away from you, even
your pension money, which was just a drop in the bucket compared
with our trust funds.  And you've done nothing.  Tell me, do you
like this dress?  It comes from the last of my share of your
money.  It really didn't take me long to spend it all.  Why, I've
got you so well trained that you won't even leave when the door's
open.  And even though I've let you build up your strength, you
haven't even dared to challenge my authority over you.  Norma was
right.  I may have been a bitch before, but this has taught me a
lot of new skills."

Then she reached into a small purse around her waist and pulled
out a small medicine dropper filled with a familiar looking
golden liquid.

"You know what this is, don't you?  It's my reward from my big
sister."  She popped it into her mouth.  It dangled, temptingly.
"Now, stand up.  Come closer.  You're going to put your hand on
the bulb and squeeze it.  I want you to be the one to spray it
into my mouth."

This was absolute torture.  How could I give her the advantage
over me again?  I thought about pulling it out of her mouth, and
taking it myself.  But what if it were a trick, like the last
time.  I couldn't bear to be reduced to a seventy pound weakling
again.

"Your face is so expressive.  What pain you're feeling!"

That was the last straw.  I grabbed the dropper out of her mouth
and pushed her across the room, then took it to the bathroom and
emptied it down the sink.  Breathless, but glowing with my
decisive action, I returned to my room, ready to face her in full
battle.  Instead, Ariana was smirking at me.  She held another
container of that golden liquid and quickly swallowed it. 

I groaned.  Almost instantly I could see Ariana's stomach
tighten.  Her shoulders broadened and bulges of muscle rounded
her arms and legs.  Norma must have improved the serum, adding
concentrated protein and nutrients directly to the mix.  Within
minutes I was looking up at a six foot six inch powerhouse.  She
puffed out her imposing chest and looked with obvious pleasure at
her arms.

"I'd like a massage now."

She lay down on the floor and pulled me over to her, easily
lifting me off the ground.  I knelt next to her and began on her
neck.

"I can't even feel that.  Harder!"

Using all of my strength, I pounded my fingers into the ridges of
muscle stretching from shoulder to shoulder, but didn't even have
the strength to knead them.

"Ah, it's useless.  You're not strong enough to massage these
muscles.  But what's the difference?  I'm done here."

"You are?  Does that mean I can go?"

"Why just come with me, Edgar!"  She bounced up to her feet and
put her arm around my waist, propelling me forward.  We walked
down the hall toward the front door.  "You know, Edgar, you were
really smart not to drink that serum.  It had the same virus
Norma gave you.  It would have been so sad for you if you got
sick like that again, just as you were getting to be in such good
shape.  I bet it's the first time in your life you've been so
strong."

I said nothing.  It was ridiculous to feel proud of my work, when
Norma's serum could create such power with no effort at all.

"Wait here while I open the door."  She punched in the code.
"Why Cassie, I'm so glad you're here!  Edgar, this is my sister
Cassie. She's fourteen."

Cassie was another petite Willens.  She dressed very stylishly,
but the effect was ruined by the mass of gold bracelets around
her wrist and the vigor with which her mouth worked on her
chewing gum.  She scowled at me and looked up at Ariana.  "This
isn't what you said.  He's sallow and kind of runty, but he's
still bigger than me.   How am I going to make him do what I
want?  You and Norma told me he'd be like a toy for me.  It
always happens this way.  You guys get the fun but by the time I
get there, everything's different."

She walked up to me and pushed me in the chest and then tried to
punch me in the stomach, but I caught her hand.  She struggled a
bit, then looked plaintively at Ariana.  "See what I mean?  This
isn't any fun."

"Let her go, Edgar!  Now Cassie, come here.  You're probably just
tired.  Have a glass of lemonade.  It'll make you feel better,
I'm sure."

"Don't patronize me Ariana.  I'm not a baby you can pacify with
sweets.  I don't want your lemonade.  I don't want to stay here
with this creep.  Just take me home."

"Drink the fucking lemonade!"

Cassie looked a little cowed by her gigantic sister.  She stuck
out her lower lip, but then downed the drink.  "Hey!  That stuff
is great!  Give me another glass."

"Not today, but there's a letter for you in your room upstairs.
The door code is our phone number from the old house at Palm
Springs.  Gotta go, sis.  Bye Edgar.  It was fun."

Ariana slammed the door.  I stared at it.  I was left with
Cassie.

She put her hand to her forehead.  "I'm still thirsty.  See if
there's any more lemonade in the kitchen."  I stared at this
little sprite.  "Get going.  I don't want to wait all day.  I'm
tired.  And take my stuff upstairs too.  It's too heavy for me."
She kicked her suitcase and it slid across the room.

"Do it yourself.  I'm not your servant."

"Yes you are.  They told me you'd do whatever I said."  Her voice
started rising.  "I can just leave you here to starve, you know.
I can walk out of this house any time I want and you can just
stay here and die, for all I care.  You're a worm.  You look like
a worm and you are a worm."

"That's enough!"  I slapped her face.  "Maybe Norma thought she
was entitled to revenge, and Ariana caught me when I was weak and
sick, but there's no reason I have to listen to you.  Go on.
Leave.  I bet you won't."  She stared at me angrily and raised
her hand to slap me back, but I grabbed it and twisted it behind
her back.  "Hah!  I don't want to hurt you, but don't make me go
too far."  She started whimpering and I felt bad about hurting
her, so I let go.  "I'll help you bring your things up," I said
chivalrously, savoring my little victory, "but you can get your
own drink."

She looked daggers at me, but nodded her head, picked up her
small bag and trudged to her room.  I couldn't believe how heavy
her suitcase was, but I dragged it up behind her, banging it on
each stair.

"You could at least be a little more careful.  You're ruining my
luggage," she said icily, without even turning around.

I wanted to drop it and let it tumble down the stairs, but I
thought better of that idea and deposited it on the floor of her
room. Meanwhile, Cassie was reading her note, making excited
little gasps as she went through it.  She looked over at me with
a mischievous grin and stuffed the letter in her dresser drawer.

"Now let's go to the kitchen, where you can watch me get my own
drink."

I followed willingly, admiring the shake of her young, tight ass.
How refreshing not to be under the thumb of this girl, I thought.
She may be unpleasant, but she's so young and for once I have the
upper hand.  Maybe I can turn the tables on her and escape.

She poured herself a small glass of milk and sat at the table.
"I'm willing to start fresh, Edgar," she said as she sipped her
drink.  "But you have to do what I say.  Just because I'm
fourteen, that doesn't give me any less power over you.  I am a
Willens, and I'm here to punish you for crossing my sister."  She
finished the glass and daintily wiped the milk stain from her
upper lip.

I shook my head.  She was crazy.

"Now go upstairs and unpack my clothes.  And you'll be in big
trouble if I catch you sniffing my panties."  I walked out of the
room and heard her follow along quickly.  "I'm warning you.  Do
it!"

I turned around to confront her.  She looked different, more
confident.  She raised her hand to slap me and again I caught it.
She stiffened her legs and pulled hard.  Surprisingly, she threw
me off balance, and I pitched forward, crashing into her.  We
tumbled onto the floor, me on top of her.  I figured it was an
easy opportunity to subdue her and teach her a lesson, so I lay
across her, holding her arms down with my upper body and pinning
her legs with mine, but she kept wriggling and I was having
trouble getting a tight hold on her.  Her young body felt firm
under mine and I was starting to get a hard on, when she freed
one hand and pushed it against my face, pushing me backward.  My
neck started to hurt, so I pulled up and tried to brush her arm
aside, but I was having trouble doing so.  I felt her hook one
leg around mine and suddenly she was pushing to the side, trying
to turn me over.  I leaned heavily on her side with all my
strength and stopped her, but she had gotten both arms out from
under me and was now pushing at my shoulders and chest.  I still
had her trapped, but I was getting tired.  Fortunately she
stopped struggling.

"You thought I was just a pushover, huh?  I'm going to get you
Edgar and you'll pay for this, I promise.  I'll remember how you
felt me up today.  I hope you enjoyed it, because its going to
get a lot worse for you."

"You're hardly in a position to threaten me."

She lay there, relaxed now, looking into my eyes as if she was
calculating.  I stayed on my guard.  Suddenly I felt her tense up
again and in a blink she threw me off her.  I looked at her and
realized, stupidly, that Ariana had given her some of the serum;
not as much as Norma and Ariana had taken, but enough to make her
stronger than me.  That firmness I felt was not her youthful
body; it was the beginning of the process, which was rapidly
reaching its conclusion.

Cassie was now advancing toward me.  I put my hands up to defend
myself, and she grabbed my right hand with hers and started
squeezing.  I couldn't believe the strength she had now.  I tried
to pull away, but she had me fast.  She kicked my shin with the
toe of her boot and a wave of pain shot through my leg, then
started to crush my hand.  I knelt down in front of her.

"That hurts so much.  Please Cassie.  Please stop.  You're going
to break my hand."  I could see the muscles in her arm tensing,
growing as the serum worked its course through her body and she
increased the pressure on my hand.  Another wave of pain shot out
from my wrist.  "AAGh!  You've broken it!"

"That was the hand that brushed my breast when we were
wrestling."  She released my hand.  "Kiss my foot, slave."

I kissed it.

"I have eight weeks with you; then I get the full dose.  Then
you'll meet Meryl and Montague, the twins.  And then we'll all
have a party, together.

I was doomed.

[zarina]

This is another old one by Marknew.  Enjoy!

Tara's Lathe
By Marknew
An Amazon version of LeGuin's Lathe of Heaven


I recall my first girlfriend, Karen Shaw.  Although it has been
a long time, and so much has happened, I have a clear picture of
her being only a little smaller than I was at the time.  Not
that she was especially tall or I short, but girls matured
earlier and we were just about the same age.  She was thin but
already at twelve she was developing rounded breasts and hips
and she had soft, dark hair that fell around her shoulders.  Her
eyes twinkled and she had freckles and a pert, round nose.  All
in all she was the All American girl next door -- not beautiful,
but pretty.  A girl you'd known all your life, until one day you
woke up and realized that she wasn't just a girl -- she was a
GIRL.

I was surprised when I held her the first time how soft her body
was, and, given my own excitement and my rough pleasure at
touching her, how gentle she wanted me to be.  Being gentle
didn't seem to do justice at all to what I was feeling.  And her
emerging breasts, they were so incredibly soft too, and when she
uncovered them they were so much larger than I expected. I saw
them and bent down to suck on them, not gently enough for her
and she pushed me away, I think, but then she let me come back
if I promised would be gentle.  Of course I said I would -- that
I remember very clearly.

And a few years later, my first time making love.  It was with
Karen again -- on my first trip home from college as a freshman. 
By now I had grown and I towered over her.  Meeting her for
dinner I felt the power of my size, of my status as a college
student, while she was just working at the 7-11 and teaching
Sunday School at church, yet I was anxious because I didn't know
what to do, and however young I was, I thought I should know
what to do.  I was the man; I'm responsible for doing it, right? 
But even with all the fear, it turned out to be wonderful.  The
feelings were better than anything I could have imagined, for me
at least.  For her it was painful, but for me, each stroke, each
time I thrust more deeply, it was more of that incredible
feeling, until the end, when I lost control and pumped my cum
into her, I felt like screaming in triumph, while also shivering
with pleasure.  That was the way it was.  She was in pain and I
felt wonderful.  She had misgivings and wanted to stop in the
middle, but there was simply no way I would do that, and she
couldn't make me.  Hell, nothing other than a kick in the balls
could have made me stop.  Oh, the feelings of joy, of
fulfillment, or power, of accomplishment.  And I should have
used "protection," but I didn't, and we got away with it. 
Nothing bad happened at all.  To either of us.  She bled, I
think, a little, but she was alright and even told me, after it
was done, that she enjoyed it, even through the pain, because
she knew she loved me and that I loved her.  I can understand
that now, but I didn't then.  But honestly, I didn't care that
much, so long as she would do it again with me.  And she did,
every time I came home to visit that year -- until I met other
girls.  I didn't hear much from Karen after that, until after I
moved back.  She married a high school buddy of mine, but we
didn't see each other much, until later.

Meanwhile, I married my sweetheart from Iowa State, Cheryl, and
I was very, very happy.  I had met her writing the usual once a
year field hockey story for the college paper.  She had a rough,
healthy beauty and was only a little smaller than I.  She moved
with me, back to my home town.  We had two children, Amy and
Ryan, bought a house together, and notwithstanding the usual
tensions and frustrations, we had a pretty good life.  I
remember clearly my thirtieth birthday party, surrounded by
friends and family, kidding around with Bob and Fred, looking
over at Cheryl, thinking about getting her alone later in the
evening in bed.  I remember that happiness.

There are other fragments.  Graduation from school.  My first
writing job.  Leaving for work in the morning, driving up the
interstate that lay across the flat, featureless plains and
taking note of each change in the billboards, the only change
that ever took place in that dull, little city.  Returning at
night to my wife and children.  Helping Bob through financial
problems.  My Sunday morning tennis with Fred.  That was normal
life, and I didn't expect anything to change.  Once I had a boss
who was a woman, sent by headquarters in Minnesota, but she
didn't last too long in a small Iowa city.  The way it worked at
a branch office of a Midwestern brokerage house was the women
worked for the men, as secretaries, assistants, market
researchers and the like.  In bigger towns women did different
jobs too, but not where I was.

I recall, very vividly, a lecture by a company lawyer from our
Minneapolis head office, a stern blond woman with her hair in a
bun, warning us against involvement with our staff.  "Company
policy strictly forbids any sexual relationship with another
employee.  Sexual relationships between persons who are in a
reporting relationship will be grounds for termination."  That
held me back for a long time.  That and my home life.

But things did change.  In my thirties my wife and I grew apart,
a little.  I always worked long hours.  She was bored at home. 
Did she have an affair first, or did I?  I don't really remember
now.  Not that they were any big secrets.  In this part of the
country you can't really keep secrets for long.

I remember Tara Donatelli, one of my last secretaries, as she
was when I first met her.  It's funny how my first thought of
her was of how small she was.  A delicate but firm build,
expressive and emotive eyes -- you know, nice things in small
packages.  From the beginning, I knew she was different than
anyone else who had ever worked for me.  I always worked late,
revising what I wrote until the last possible deadline, to fit a
sales pitch that always changed minute by minute to look current
with the market, so that we looked like we were leading instead
of absorbing every last cue from the street.  That was the way
to do the job.  My other secretaries would leave at the end of
the day, at five, if I didn't catch them first, even though they
knew there was more work, leaving me to do all of the typing,
printing, assembling, etc.  But Tara would stay, even though she
didn't get any more pay.  This was her first job and she wanted
so much to succeed.  We spent a lot of time working together,
and then it extended to dinner.  Sometimes, chinese food at our
desks, sometimes a dinner and a drink at a restaurant in Omaha
or Council Bluffs to celebrate when we finished our project. 
She always looked into my eyes -- for signs she was doing well I
thought.  Later, I learned it was because she liked me. 

I remember Tabitha, a babysitter who was one of those
precociously voluptuous girls who from a very young age always
seem to be bursting out of their clothes.  Even when she was
only eleven, I remebered noticing the dark imprints of her
nipples pressing on her t-shirt, and now the looks she would
give me made me think she knew a lot more at the age of fifteen
than I knew in my thirties.  She was the oldest of three girls
and worked all summer in the fields beside her father, and her
lean strong arms and sun-bleached hair added to her animal
sensuality.  Normally, I would have stayed far away from her,
but my daughter Amy loved her, so she sat for us regularly.  I
drove her home one night and she paused after she got out of the
car.  It was a summer night, still light, and she was dressed in
the tightest little halter top, her flat stomach plainly visible
and her burgeoning corn-fed bosom just inches from my face
through the car window.  "I wish you didn't have to go right
back, Mr. Newton.  I could show you around my house.  No one's
home, so you wouldn't have to talk to my parents."  She pressed
her strapping arms to the sides of her breasts, pushing them up
through the top of her halter.  "Wouldn't you like to?"  I
blushed and stammered and goodnight and quickly put the car into
gear, even while I looked back at her in the mirror.  It was a
good thing no one was in front of my car.

And I clearly remember the turning point for me, and as it
turned out, for all mankind: that one day when Tara took my
hand, looked into my eyes and said, bold as can be, "I will risk
everything for you. Please Mark, won't you do it for me?"  I
looked at her, uncomprehending, but understanding perfectly. 
"Mark, let's do it.  I really want to.  Don't you know?"  My
heart stopped.  She was small, like a child, but much more
daring than I was.  Yet even with my Midwestern morality it
still took me only fraction more than an instant to say yes, and
we left our dinner, practically running to a hotel over the
state line in Nebraska, and devoured each other's bodies, in
lust, in joy.  How much passion there was in that small body.  I
can still see those small breasts, more nipple than breast
really, bobbing slightly as she moved on top of me, her thin
arms resting on my shoulders, her eyes gazing unfocused on the
wall above the bed, her face in everchanging poses of ecstasy as
we came, violently, together.

There are other memories -- of a very different kind of life. 
But I'll get to that.

After that night, I felt an insatiable desire for Tara.  I was
inspired at work.  It seemed that she knew intuitively what I
needed: for work and for play.  My late days at the office
multiplied.  We were careful, but she absorbed my whole life, so
much so, that even for Cheryl it seemed that I had gone too far. 
One Saturday when the children were at soccer Cheryl stopped me
as I got ready to run the usual errands.

"We are having a talk, Mister."

"Cheryl, not now.  I have to pick up some things.  You know how
rushed we'll be later."

"This is important.  You're taking this affair too far."

"What do..."

"At least don't lie to me!"  She pulled her hand around it to
slap me, but I saw it coming and caught it.  She struggled
briefly, then started to cry.  "Come off it!  I'm not an angel
either, Mark, but at least I'm discreet.  You of all people
should know how small this city is.  You're driving us right to
a divorce.  I don't want that.  I want our family together, for
our kids' sake.  I thought we had an understanding."

I looked into her eyes.  She may not have been beautiful, but
she was the person I had once chosen to build my life with.  I
remembered I once thought I loved her.  She was the mother of my
children.  What was I doing?  I suddenly felt scared, dizzy and
I teetered on my feet.

"Hey, Mark, what's wrong?  Are you sick or something?"

I shook my head.  "No, no, it's ... I ... I don't know what I've
been ... Cheryl, maybe we should try to ... I mean, some
counseling, you know, get us back on track, find a way to make
this work."

She looked me up and down, satisfied that I was wasn't going to
lose my balance and hadn't completely lost my wits.  "Well,
Mark, you will never cease to surprise me.  Here you were, a big
man, in love, having the affair of his life.  And now, suddenly,
you're about to pass out in fear of losing me.  Well, this is
the last thing I expected to hear from you.  I suppose you'll
even give up that girl too, start exercising every day and write
your great novel." 

I swallowed, her onslaught buffeting me like a hot wind.  But
still, I didn't want to lose her.  I clung to my line.  "I know
you're suspicious of me, but I'm serious.  We loved each other
once.  Maybe we can find that again."

She looked down, sadly, "To have a family built on love, well,
I'd want that more than anything, but I'm a realist.  Still,
whether I like it or not, you are the father of my children.  If
you wanted to give it a go, well, I should go along too."  She
sat down and sighed.  "Yeah, ok. 

I kissed the top of her head and left to do my errands.  After
I'd finished I realized I wasn't ready to go back home yet. 
Once I did, I'd be cutting myself off from Tara completely.  But
that's what I said I'd do, what I had to do.  I was all confused
again.  I had to think.  I stopped in a Waldenbooks and wandered
through the fiction section.  In the middle of the aisle there
was Tara.  My eyes widened.  I would tell her, right now, and
that would be it.

"What is it my love?  I thought I might surprise you up here,
but I didn't think I'd scare you!"

"Tara, I ... we have to stop.  My marriage."

"Your marriage?  That's dead!  You don't love your wife.  You
love me."  She took my arm and steered me to a corner of the
store.  "Don't be silly!  Don't deny your feelings; you know how
happy we've been.  We're perfect for each other."

"I know.  I know.  But I can't.  It's not right.  Cheryl ... my
family ... it's important to me.  I need to give her a chance."

"Are you crazy?  She doesn't love you the way I love you, and
you don't love her.  What's wrong is staying with her when you
love me!  You're throwing away the love of your lifetime. 
You'll never have another chance for passion like ours!"  She
reached up, put her arms around my neck and kissed me.  Her lips
massaged mine; her nimble tongue fluttered around my mouth.  I
felt her body pressing against me and involuntarily I pulled her
tighter.  She was right.  We were made for each other.  I longed
for her.  But there was another voice inside telling me that
Cheryl, my wife, was my fate.  I don't know why, maybe because
I'm a midwesterner, but I felt I had a duty to listen to that
voice. 

I put my hands on hers and gently disengaged her.  "Tara. 
Darling.  We must stop.  It's my decision, really, and that's
it."

Her nostrils flared.  I could see her recognize her defeat, then
the tears, and then the anger in her eyes.  "I can't believe
this.  How can you reject me?  I've finally won you, given you
the excitement, the passion that you never had.  That you don't
even deserve, damn you!!"  She stared at me.  She knew me so
well, even in our short time together, that she knew I had
decided for good.  "Well then, asshole, I'll make your life as
hellish as it will be for me, just you wait!"  She started
flailing at me like a windmill.  I caught her arms, only to have
her start kicking me.  I lifted her bodily off the ground,
wrapping one arm around her torso, the other around her legs,
and backed out of the store, all eyes on me, while she shouted,
"You bastard!  Let me go you bastard!!"  I held her tightly
until she quieted down, then ran away from her and rushed home.

Monday morning came, as it always does, and Tara breathed fire. 
She purposely misunderstood all of my instructions, faxed a very
confidential strategy memo to Dain Bosworth, our local
competitor, "by accident," spilled coffee on me twice, and
growled at everyone who called.  By four o'clock, J.D., my boss,
called me in for a meeting.  He had a human resources manager
from Minneapolis on the speakerphone.

"Mark, we heard rumors that you and Tara are an item.  Is this
true?"

I took a deep breath.  I had to be honest or else all would be
lost.  "Yes.  It is, or was, true.  I broke it off this
weekend."

I heard a sigh through the speaker and the personnel guy spoke. 
"She has to go, Mark.  She's being completely disruptive.  I'd
fire you too, but J.D. made a strong case to keep you.  We'll
see what the lawyers say, but let me tell you, you're on thin
ice right now.  We'll handle Tara.  We've removed her access to
the network and security will escort her out in fifteen minutes. 
You'd better take the rest of the day off, while we assess the
situation, but if you say a word about this to anyone but the
lawyers and the two of us, you're history.  And this will go
down in your file."

I thanked them for saving my job, but inside I was fuming.  I
knew I broke the rules, but this was my personal life.  I guess
I had no personal life anymore -- nothing was really my own
anyway.  I left, and out of my rear view mirror I saw Tara
struggling with our seventy year old guard as he slowly moved
her off the premises.  I pulled out of the lot, then got stuck
at a light and saw her running up to the car.  I fumbled for the
door lock; she grabbed the handle first and climbed inside.

"You asshole.  You got me fired, right?"

"It wasn't me, Tara.  You brought this on yourself."

"Oh yeah?  It's the whole male power structure at your stupid
company that's protected you.  Well, I figured something like
this would happen, and I made some phone calls.  I got a lawyer,
and probably another job.  I met some women Saturday.  They're
part of a really neat group, called DRG.  Totally new age and
really radical, and anti-male.  I don't know what they're doing
out here in the boonies, but anyway, they're moving here and
I'll be their administrative assistant.  Not much pay, but wait
until I sue your company.  I'll really be in the money.  I'll be
in the same building too, so you can't stop me from coming in. 
I'll see you every day.  We'll see who has the last word."  She
reached over and started to hit me, but I held her arms fast.

"Calm down Tara.  Please.  I'm sorry.  Really.  I just realized
I'm not the kind of guy who falls in love and has affairs.  I
can't handle it."

"I can't *stand* the way you just hold me like that.  And you've
never had a day of exercise in your life, while I slave away at
the gym every night.  You're just a chickenshit middle-aged
bastard!  All I have to say is, enjoy your downhill slide.  Your
life is over!"  She bared her teeth at me but relaxed her arms. 
I let go and saw her get out, wordlessly, and slam the door. 
She didn't look back, at least, not as long as I watched her
walk down the street.  After she turned the corner I drove the
long way home so I wouldn't see her.

The next few weeks seemed pretty normal.  Cheryl and I saw a
counselor three times each week.  Cheryl was very angry, but
seemed committed to making our marriage work.  We even started
having a little sex again.  It wasn't the wild stuff I did with
Tara, but for married sex, it wasn't bad.  I suffered a little
at work.  Tara did sue us, and the lawyers insisted I be
disciplined so that it looked like the company was being
evenhanded.  My pay was cut 15% and I got a smaller office at
the end of the hall with a small window looking out onto the
stockyards and the interstate, but J.D. told me it would only be
temporary, until the lawsuit was over, and that the company
still had plans for me. 

So I settled down to work.  Of course, I had to work three times
as hard for less pay than before, just to reestablish myself. 
And I had no help either.  Instead of Tara, I had to share
Ingrid with with five other guys.  Ingrid was a typical
midwestern girl -- dull blond hair, blocky body, and no sense of
style.  She didn't understand anything about marketing and had
an awful attitude.  She was smart, but she used her intelligence
only to find the quickest and laziest way to do her job.  That
usually included avoiding me and my late night projects.  So I
was usually scribbling away late at night on my own.  And that
didn't help my reconciliation much with Cheryl.  I wondered
whether she was still seeing someone.  Still, I had made a
decision and I was determined to see it through.

I'd see Tara in the building every so often, but she made a
point of ignoring me and I tried to avoid seeing her too. 
Still, it was obvious we still had feelings for each other.  It
was one more thing to manage.

Her company made a lot of noise, and it was the office right
below mine that was the worst.  I learned that DRG stood for
Dream Research Group.  It was a not-for-profit company and had
some connection with a women's group at the University of
Berkeley in California.  They had been bringing  a fair amount
of heavy equipment into the building and doing installation
work, which accounted for the noise.  One day, sort of late, I
saw Tara in the elevator and out of the blue asked her how her
work was going.  She smiled at me strangely and calmly, for a
change, and said I would find out soon.  Well, at least the
storminess was over, I thought.  Maybe if I went along she'd
drop the lawsuit and life could go back to normal.  Well,
instead, two days later I got a handwritten invitation to DRG's
opening day party.  I thought it was strange, but maybe it was a
sort of peace treaty.  I'd be working late anyway and wouldn't
be missed if I went for half an hour.  The invitation suggested
that before I go I read a book called "The Lathe of Heaven" by
Ursula Le Guin.  I picked it up at Waldenbooks and spent lunch
hour and a little bit more reading it.

It was a pretty good book, the kind of science fiction I like. 
A dazed kind of guy goes to a shrink for help with a problem
called "effective dreaming."  The guy, it seems, gets into a
certain kind of state of mind in which his dreams change the
world.  In fact, it works so completely that for everyone more
than a certain distance away from him the changed world is all
they remember -- as though it had always been that way.  The guy
wants help -- it's a power no one should have, he thinks -- but
the shrink turns out to be power mad and uses the guy to put his
own ambitions into play, hypnotizing the dreamer into having
"effective dreams" that enhance the shrink's own stature in the
world and remake the world into the shrink's liberal paradise. 
Of course, nothing works as planned and the shrink eventually
destroys himself, in the process finally giving the guy what he
had wanted all along, an "effective dream" ridding himself of
his power.  I thought it was a pretty neat story and I wondered
what it had to do with DRG.

On the evening of the opening I knocked at the DRG door, about
ten minutes late.  Tara answered.  The offices were quiet.  Tara
looked flushed and nervous.

"I thought you weren't coming."

"Where are the other guests?"

"Oh, they're late.  Come on to the back."

I walked through the offices, feeling a little funny about being
there.  No one else was in the office.

"This is no opening, Tara.  Am I even allowed to be here?  Are
you?"

"You're a writer, aren't you?  Do you want something to write
about?  Maybe a good investment idea?"

"No one can invest in this company Tara.  It's not-for-profit. 
Don't you even understand what we do?"

She shrugged, not wanting to rise to the fight.  "Yeah, well,
aren't you even curious about all the noise?  I'll show you what
we've been doing."

I was curious, it was true.  She knew me.  She took me to the
back room, next to my office.  The room was filled with
electrical equipment, heavy power cables, a comfortable chair
and headphones.

"It's a dream machine, Mark.  Can you imagine?  It makes your
thoughts real, sort of like in that book I told you about."

"That's ridiculous Tara.  Did they tell you that?  Do you really
believe them?"

"They didn't tell me anything.  They don't trust me.  They think
I'm really stupid.  Just like you do.  I figured it out by
reading some stuff they wanted me to shred.  They finished the
first part of their work, setting the machine up, and they were
going to fire me tomorrow right before they start to use it. 
But I'll show you, and them.  Tell me something simple you want
and I can set up the machine to make it happen."

"OK, I'll play.  I'd like an apple."

She snorted.  "You're hungry?  I can't believe how small-minded
you can be.  Well, ok.  Now, sit down.  You have to put on the
headset.  Think about the biggest, reddest, tastiest apple you
can.  I'll flick the switch.  Close your eyes."

I thought about an apple sitting on my desk, waiting for me to
eat.  I felt nothing but a little queasiness, probably from
embarrassment, and I opened my eyes when the noise stopped.  She
stared at me, mouth open, cheeks flush with excitement.  "You
didn't do it!"

"Tara, this is so silly.  I did what you asked and nothing
happened, just as I knew.  This is just craziness.  It's
probably some kind of gimmick to trick you or something.  You
really have to get hold of yourself."

"But it's real.  I know it!"

"Tara, I don't know what's gotten into you.  You really should
know better.  Maybe it's partly my fault, and I'm sorry, but
anyway, I shouldn't be here, and neither should you."

I got up and walked out.  She ran to stop me, holding me from
behind.  I easily removed her arms and left her.  I saw her turn
and run back toward the machine.  I was relieved she didn't
follow me.

I sat at my desk, happily munching on a large red apple I must
have brought for a snack.  It was quite tasty.  Funny, but I
didn't usually take food to work, and I didn't remember packing
it.  Then it hit me.  The dream machine!  It did work after all! 
I jumped up to run back to tell Tara, when I heard the machine
go on again, and suddenly I felt very dizzy.  Everything seemed
like it was spinning.  I fell to the ground and closed my eyes
against the roar and when I opened them I had a shock.  My
office was different.  It was smaller, the walls were yellow
instead of the company standard dull white.  The mission
statement was different.  Gone was the statement about "managing
your money for your good, and your family's," replaced by "Your
money -- it's our job!"  And my auto racing pictures were all
replaced by pictures of celebrities and some cute puppy and
kitten faces.  I hated that stuff; it's what the secretaries had
at their desks, soothing and nice, but not my style, not
appropriate for a man at all.

I felt strange.  I got up and walked down the hall.  There
hadn't been any other people working late that night, but the
office was now half-full.  And the people were different.  My
secretary was a Ralph Brown, and there were eight colleagues I
shared "Ralph" with, three of whom were women who were working
late.  An unusual group of women too.  Two of them were taller
than me, with broader shoulders too.  Now, at 5'9", I wasn't a
giant, but they all looked very strong.  The third one was Karen
Shaw, my first girlfriend.  What was she doing here?  She'd
married Bob Holmes, at least in my reality, and when she wasn't
looking after her kids, she spent her time teaching music at
church. She was stockier than I remembered, and just barely an
inch or two shorter than me.  She looked me over, worried.

"Hey, Mark, you don't look so hot.  Why don't go home?  We can
finish up here without you tonight.  We have a couple of days
before our report's due."

I nodded in agreement.  I did feel very strange.  I headed back
to my office.  Karen should be quite a bit shorter than I -- not
just a couple of inches.  Maybe she was wearing heels or
something today, although that would be unusual for her.  What
was going on?  I signed out and walked out of the door, waving
to the security guard, who was another tall woman.  I got into
my Chevy and looked up at the billboard over the highway.  The
Salem cigarette ad had changed.  It used to be the one where the
guy's holding a wholesome, but sexy girl on his shoulders and
they're both laughing like they'd just won a piggyback fight. 
Now it was a man and woman passing a cigarette between them with
a bland statement, "What's good for friends is good for
friendship."  Except for the woman's long hair, they looked
almost like identical twins.  I groaned, thinking that some
censor had decided that sex appeal was no longer allowed in ads. 
So much for distractions on the ride home.

[zarina]

"Hey Mark.  Something wrong?"  I turned around.  It was Tara. 
But she looked different.  She was a lot taller, almost as tall
as I.  And she was dressed in an expensive, tailored jacket,
rather than the blue jeans and t-shirt I remembered seeing her
in earlier that evening.  But how...?

She put her hand on my shoulder and pulled me toward her.  I
resisted, but she was strong.  I spoke up, hoping to avoid an
incident.

"Tara, what are you doing?  And what's happened to you?"

"Confused, Mark?  Is something wrong?  Don't you remember our
little opening at DRG?  Come sit down next to me.  I'll help you
out."

I walked with her to a bench.  She kept her arm on me.

"So, does my size seem strange to you? "  I nodded.  "That's not
all.  I bet you didn't know that I'm an important scientist,
with a string of valuable inventions.  I own DRG -- and the
building you work in."

"But that's impossible.  You were my secretary -- 'til a month
ago.  You know nothing about science. And what's happened to
your body, you're much smaller than I am.  This isn't real. 
It's ... it's

She smiled broadly.  "Why, it's just a dream! Is that what
you're going to say?  Yes, a dream, but it's real too -- a dream
come true."  She looked at me, letting it sink in.  "Go on,
pinch yourself.  Do all the silly things people talk about when
they say they must be sleeping.  It's as real as anything can
be, Mark.  In fact, the old life you remember?  That's just a
dream now.  No more than a dream."

I stared, watching men and women passing us.  All of them
dressed interchangeably.  Men and women in jeans.  Some women in
dresses, some men in dresses.  Men in dresses!  In Iowa?

"Everything I told you before about the dream machine was true. 
Those women at DRG believed in equality.  They dreamed of a
world in which there was almost no physical difference between
men and women.  You know, it's amazing how many things followed
from that.  All of the behavioral differences that people
thought were from hormones?  Well it turns out ost of it was
just from the difference in physical strength.  The submissive,
emotional, manipulative behaviors of women, our focus on
personal relationships, our lack of open aggressiveness.  They
were just the adaptive behaviors of a subordinate class.  Now
we're equal in that sense.  Oh, there are still some
differences.  The shapes of our bodies, the fact we bear
children -- that makes a difference.  And we're still somewhat
more perceptive and intuitive, men are more detached and focused
in a way.  But the differences are much less.  Men and women are
both logical and emotional.  Both must be nurturing and
independent.  We both can realize the full range of human
possibility, without being shoved into sex roles."

"Don't tell me you believe in that stuff."

"I don't have to believe in it.  I created it!  Just look around
for yourself."

I watched people walk by.  Well, from the way they walked and
dressed, there was now almost no difference between the sexes,
other than breasts and, I assumed, genitalia. 

"Yes, they were smart to figure that out, and smart to invent
the machine.  They had real high IQ type smarts, but I had
another kind -- street-smarts.  They left me an opening, and I
made a few small changes to their plans.  Like, I changed my
name, to Beaumont.  I always liked that name -- better than
Donatelli.  I'm very wealthy you know, now -- I'm one of the 500
wealthiest people in the country according to Forbes.  I own the
largest public technology company in the world.  It was the
company that employed those DRG people on a secret project to
invent the DRG machine.  And, sadly, all of them died last
night, so nobody knows about the DRG division of Beaumont Life
Sciences except you and me."

"You killed them?"

"Oh, not me!  They died in all sorts of ways.  Traffic
accidents, murder, suicide, toxic shock, strokes.  It's one of
those things."  She smiled.  "You wouldn't have liked them
anyway.  They were very radical."

I looked at her closely.  "There's other stuff, isn't there. 
You sound so different."

"Yes, well, I always felt a little at a disadvantage to other
people -- they way they talked and spoke.  So I made myself
smarter, a lot smarter.  What's your IQ?  120?"

"125."

She laughed.  "High normal.  Mine used to be 110.  Now it's 195. 
I thought 200 would have been obnoxious.  I'm a genius, you
know."  I stared at her, uncomprehendingly, while she looked
around the square in front of our building.

"Most of the things you see are the changes they wanted.  And
it's not bad, you know. It's a little strange but not all bad. 
To everyone in the world this universe is all that ever existed. 
Except for us.  By getting you to wear that headset I linked
your brain with the machine, just like mine, so that you
retained your memories of the way things used to be.  You and I
will always be the only ones who remember the way things were. 
It would have been lonely for me, otherwise.  And I like the
idea that you know how it used to be."

"So you're in the same boat as me?"

"Not entirely.  I have both sets of memories, the old and the
new, whereas your new memories exist only in your subconscious
mind.  I'm afraid you have a lot of learning to do.  Maybe I'll
help you, if you're nice to me.  Of course there's a few other
important differences between our situations.  I'm worth
millions; you're barely getting by.  I'm smarter than you.  And
most importantly, I control the dream machine.  I can be very
useful to you, you know."

Tara put her arm around my neck.  I pushed it off, gently.  She
stared at me, grinning, enjoying the situation.

"Nothing's changed, you know.  I'm still going to try to save my
marriage."

Tara laughed.  "We'll see how you feel about that when you get
home.  Think about it."

Something unpleasant flashed in the back of my mind, but I
ignored it.  "Is this what you wanted, Tara?  Personal power? 
My being disoriented.  I don't know anything about this world
you've created.  Is it any better?  Are people happier?"

"I really don't know or care.  Whether men are stronger than
women or not, how could that be better or worse.  It's just a
matter of which side you're on.  Women were losing -- we were
weaker -- and now we're tied.  Personally, I'm way ahead, but
anyway this world reflects the values of DRG, not mine.  My
interests are entirely personal."

She slipped off her jacket.  She was wearing a stunning black
sleeveless dress beneath it, with glistening stones throughout
the fabric.  They weren't plastic sequins either; they looked
like diamonds to me.  Growing up in Iowa I'd never seen so many
up close.  As she once again put her arm around my back, I
noticed the movement of her muscles beneath her skin, the faint
blue line of her vein running up the inside of her arm over a
rather substantial bicep.  As she pulled me closer I resisted
and suddenly realized she had just been playing with me before. 
Now using a lot more strength she turned me toward her and
kissed me on the lips, a long, slow kiss.  Her tongue explored
my mouth and her lips caressed mine roughly.  I could feel
myself respond instantly to her hard, strong body, just as I had
to her smaller, firm one.  I struggled to push her away. 
Overpowering me, she held me tight for a minute, then broke off
the kiss, my face now smeared with her lipstick.

"You look upset, Mark.  Why?  Am I too strong for you?  I know
you like athletic women.  I can feel your excitement, your
passion, even when you try to deny it.  I know you better than
you know yourself.  But you're conflicted.  You're mad that
you're weaker than I am.  Well, I've been working out for years
here, just like I used to in the other reality, but it has much
more of an effect on me now.  I'm afraid you've never been
inclined to exercise, not before, not now.  And you can't rely
on your hormones to keep you stronger here.  Go on, look closely
at your arm.  Feel it.  Soft, isn't it?  Well, I'll let you be,
for now.  I can't wait to hear how you get on with Cheryl. 
Wasn't she Iowa State's star football player?  I hear you get
beat up a lot.  Not much love in that marriage.  I wonder
whether you still prefer her to me."

The image of Cheryl I had pushed away before came back to me
now.  Tall, strong, aggressive.  And very angry at me these
days, ever since she'd caught me with Tabitha.

"Shit!  I have to go.  It's been nice talking but I really have
to go."

"Of course, Mark.  Cheryl's waiting for you.  I'll see you
again.  Soon."

I drove home quickly, grimacing at the boring ads on the
billboards, and hoping Cheryl was kept late too so that I would
have time to make dinner.  As I neared the house my heart sank. 
I had driven there automatically, even though it was in a
different neighborhood, and I remembered now how small it was. 
Just four rooms.  The light was on.  I walked in quietly.

She was waiting for me in the living room, watching television. 
She stood up slowly.  I had to look up at her.  She was at least
a head taller than me, and it was obvious she worked out
regularly.  Her arms and shoulders were, if anything, bigger and
harder than her playing days in college.  Her large chest,
augmented by her lovely breasts, looked so menacing when she was
angry.  She took a deep breath, expanding that chest even more. 
Oh why did I marry someone so big?

[zarina]

"So where where you?  Wait, don't try to tell me you were
working.  I called your office.  They said you were sick.  Well
if you were sick you should have been home by now."  She looked
at me closely.  "And what's that stuff on you?!!"  She pulled me
roughly under the light.  "Lipstick!!"  Her big hand flew out
and struck me across the face.  I saw stars and went down, hard. 
Ryan was peeking out of his room, sniffling, Amy right behind
him, hiding but too curious to stay away.

I looked up at her.  She reached down for my hand and roughly
pulled me back onto my feet, deciding whether to knock me down
again. 

"Cheryl, please.  It wasn't my fault.  Someone ... Tara forced
herself on me."

She glared at me.  I looked at the arm attached to the hand
holding my wrist tightly in place.  It was the arm of someone
naturally muscular to begin with, who worked in a warehouse
every day moving heavy boxes, who spent her time off playing
physical sports, and whose identity was bound up with her
strength..  "That damn Tara Beaumont.  Always after your ass. 
Not that I can understand why, but those big shots are funny
that way.  I'd make you quit your job there, but we need the
money.  I can't believe you don't have enough character to keep
her away.  You're so easy, but I guess I knew what I was getting
when I married you."  She put her large hands on my shoulders
and squeezed.  I grimaced from the pain and cried out.  "You're
so careless about it too, you little slut, and then you have the
nerve to come home and waltz in, like I'm going to greet you
with a smile, pick you up and kiss you!"  She pushed me away.  I
tumbled back into a chair, wrenching my back.

She glared at me. "We've been short of money ever since you lost
that promotion because of your stupid affair with that child.  I
don't know when we'll ever be able to get a new house."  She
glared and me, then, settling down, sat down on her big chair. 
Looking at her, I thought about the other Cheryl.  Her soft skin
and lips, the sweet smell of her perfume, her sturdy, yet giving
body.  Only young children were that soft now, and this Cheryl
didn't look like she ever wore perfume.  She growled at me and
stomped out of the room.  I went into the cramped kitchen and
put up some spaghetti for dinner.  It was just about the only
thing I knew how to cook. 

Cheryl came in as I dumped the pasta into the pot.

"Spaghetti?  Hmmph!  That's the kind of thing I'd make for the
kids.  I was thinking of something nicer, like one of your
cassaroles.  That might put me in a better mood, you know."  She
put her hand on my ass and squeezed a little.  The pain wasn't
entirely unpleasant, I realized, and I felt a small jolt in my
groin.

I started to protest.  "But I--

"I know it's late," she interrupted.  "Come on, that tuna thing
you make.  It doesn't take that long."  She reached up to a
cabinet and pulled out a couple of tins of tuna.  "How many do
you need, two or three?"

"Three," I said, automatically, "and the ziti and tomatoes."

"Yeah, that's the one.  You know, with the spices."

I nodded.  I took down the basil, oregano and thyme and a touch
of chili.  I had no conscious idea of what I was supposed to do,
but my hands knew more than my head.  Pretty soon, I was
stirring the sauce in a pan while the ziti boiled.  Cheryl
helpfully opened the cans of tuna and was grating some cheese
for the topping.  Soon the sauce was done and I spooned the
ingredients into a dish and popped it in the oven for 20
minutes.  I had things under control.  Cheryl had left by then
and had ordered the kids to bed.  Now she was watching
television.  I took a couple of beers in and joined her.

"It smells good," she said agreeably. 

"Yeah.  It's pretty easy to make."

"For you maybe.  I always ruin it."  She looked over at me. 
"I'm still pissed at you, you know."

"Yeah?"

"I think you encourage her.  You should be able to get her to
leave you alone."  I didn't say anything.  She shook her head
and we watched the show silently until the timer went off, then
ate in front of the TV set on our snack tables.  She evidently
enjoyed it, and went back twice for more, her footsteps making
the tiny house shake.

I found the shows boring and after I ate got up to clean, then
cleared off the table and worked a bit on my report.  At ten she
clicked the set off and peeked inside.

"Come on, let's go to bed.  Are you feeling better?" 

"Yeah.  I think I'm fine now." 

She smiled.  "Good."  She motioned with her eyes to the bedroom
and I put my papers away.  I had a feeling I knew what was
coming, and although I could feel myself getting aroused I also
didn't feel entirely happy about it.  In fact, to my surprise I
felt slightly ashamed and embarrassed.  We washed up a bit.  I'd
gotten undressed already, and now I watched Cheryl undress.  She
knew I was looking at her and gave a kind of wink as she pulled
her shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor.  My heart
pounded as I surveyed her shoulders and full biceps, which she
tightened, both to arouse me and, I felt, to intimidate me.  It
worked.  She reached out to me.  "Come over here and touch me." 
It wasn't exactly a command, but it wasn't a seduction either. 
I swallowed and extended my hand, and she pulled me to her
holding me across her lap and running her large hand along my
abdomen and up my erect penis.

"You're so easy, Mark, so easy.  I never really understand, you
know, why you get so turned on by my strength.  I mean, even
though I push you around and stuff, you still come back for
more.  But you've always been that way, haven't you.  It's why
you wanted to marry me in the first place, right?"  I looked up
at her.  "You don't like to admit it, I know."  She smiled.  "I
wouldn't either, if I were in your shoes."  She picked me up,
easily carrying me to the bed, and climbed on top of me.  "It's
funny, isn't it, how it's usually the bigger men who go with
smaller women, and the smaller men, like you, who go for women
like me.  I guess opposites attract."

She rubbed against me, and I could smell her arousal.  I was
really hot now, and I pushed upward, quickly pushing inside her. 
"Mmm, yes.  That's right."  She pushed down against me, her
weight and the power of her hips almost crushing me.  She moved
across me, up and down, rubbing against me, and I felt something
firm against my pubic area.  Was that her clit?  It was like a
little stub, digging into me.  I pulled away slightly.  "Oh no
you don't!  I want it tonight, all the way, and you're going to
give it to me!"  She circled her hand under my ass and pulled me
back into her, right up against her hard clit.  "Oh, yes!" she
cried, pulling me closer.  I couldn't pull away at all -- she
was too strong.  Her biceps pressed into my waist, her bulging
muscle much harder than my stomach.  This wasn't anything like
sex in the old reality.  My whole body felt battered by hers. 
Her motions became more insistent, more rapid, and then she
groaned and sighed.  Her hand relaxed its grip and I felt her
muscles softening.  It was my turn at last.  I was almost there
and I started my own thrusts.  She turned her head and looked at
me, a small smile crossing her lips.

"What do you think you're doing?"

I was panting, right on the edge.  "I ... I"  And then I felt
her clamp on me with her pussy lips.  She'd stopped me cold!

"I'm not ready to let you come in me again yet."  She pushed up
on the bed, lifting herself over me.  "That's my decision.  If
you start behaving, maybe I'll change my mind."

I looked up at her huge chest looming over me, the round breasts
hanging down, bouncing slightly with each deep breath.  I wanted
her so much, and hated her too.  She smirked at me, and yawned a
lazy, satisfied smile and went off to the bathroom.  I followed
fifteen minutes later, and by the time I'd washed up I heard her
snoring loudly.  So I finished the job myself, my mind wandering
to Tara, mostly the old one, but then, just a bit, also the new.

I had vivid dreams that night, but they were only dreams. 

The next few days at work were just as disconcerting, although
the old life I knew was becoming more and more remote.  It was
hard to adjust to my loss of status and power.  At work, I was
just one of a team, and some of the women were more senior
members than I.  I knew them from around town -- they had been
just sales clerks, secretaries or mothers before, but now, given
a chance to compete equally, they were ahead of me.  Our local
manager, J.D., didn't work for us anymore.  He stayed home with
his kids while his wife worked at a union job making good money. 
The physical change was even harder.  I figured I was about 25%
weaker than I used to be and had lost a couple of inches of
height and about 25 pounds -- a good bit of it muscle.  I hadn't
noticed at first because everything was built smaller, and most
objects were lighter than in my old world, but my arms were
thinner and I had more trouble lifting things and moving things
around.  A couple of times I jumped up to help larger and
obviously stronger women with boxes and packages and all I got
was strange looks.

Amy and Ryan were different too.  Ryan was older, but just a
little bit stronger than Amy, who evidently had inherited her
mother's build.  She was stocky and athletic, with thick arms
and chest, and Ryan was already a little afraid of her.  They
were both very sweet with me, and it was a pleasure to hug them
in the morning before dropping Amy off at child care and Ryan at
school.

Sunday morning came, and I called Fred, hoping that our weekly
game was still on.  He answered the phone.  "Yeah, Mark?"

"Hi, Fred.  Are we getting together this morning?"

"Yeah, I guess so.  Where should we do it?"

"I don't know.  The usual place, I guess.  The Eastside courts?"

"The courts?  What are you talking about?"

"You know, tennis?"

"Mark, has Cheryl been hitting you too hard on the head or
something?  I don't play tennis.  Not since seventh grade."

"But -- "  I thought about it.  Fred wasn't a great athlete --
neither of us were -- but we'd always enjoyed hitting the ball
around.  But I couldn't call up an image of Fred doing that in
this reality.

"I thought you'd come over and we could finish organizing my
collection."

His collection?  Fred had the greatest collection of porn
around.  It was a great secret.  I discovered it by accident and
his wife, Beth, never knew about it.  As a born again, she would
hit the roof.

"On Sunday morning?  Isn't Beth home?"

"Come on, Mark.  She knows I never go to church.  It won't
bother her."

"Yeah, but, I mean, I thought, I mean, she's not out of town at
her mother's, is she?"

"No, she's right here.  Hey, Beth, Mark's getting all shy. 
C'mere and tell him to come over."

I heard the phone being handed over.  "He really needs your
help, Mark.  It's getting out of hand and he won't let me touch
it."

I swallowed.  I had to see this.  "OK. I'll be right there." 
Cheryl was still sleeping, and she was booked at the gym for
10:30.  She'd take the kids along with her.  I left them
watching TV and eating cereal, set the alarm for her and drove
over in my car.  There was Fred, and Beth, in the living room,
surrounded by books and books of ... stamps!

Beth smiled and shook my hand, and "I don't see why you boys
find this so much more interesting than the word of our Lord,
but what can I do?  I have a church lunch to serve so I won't be
home until three, Fred.  Please remember to take out the roast
for defrosting, ok honey?"

"OK.  Mark'll remind me.  He has a great memory.  OK!  Let's
start with Lithuania, ok?"  I nodded, but it was all I could do
not to fall asleep in the middle of Mexico, and I begged off at
lunch time, promising to call later to remind Fred about the
roast.

I drove out to the river, figuring that a walk at least would
clear my head of the past life and maybe bring back some memory
of the life I was living now.  The river wasn't especially
pretty, but it was empty and I had a good view of the prairie. 
After about an hour and turned around and headed back, feeling a
little winded.  Obviously, this body wasn't in any better shape
than my old one.  As I walked I saw someone approaching me.  It
was Karen.  I waved and picked up the pace a bit to meet up with
her sooner.

"Mark!  What are you doing out here?  Since when do you like to
go river walking?"

"I don't know.  I just felt like it today."  I looked at her and
smiled.  She looked great.  The extra 4" of height looked good
on her, and her cheeks were flushed from the exercise.  "Can we
walk together?"

"Sure, but you'll have to keep up with me.  I walk fast." 

"I'll try," I grinned.  "Do you come here every Sunday?" I
asked.

"Pretty much.  I like to get out after church.  My sister takes
the kids."

"But what about Bob?"

She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at me strangely. 
"Bob's dead, Mark.  He's been dead for three years."  She
studied me.  "You know, Mark, you've really seemed a bit off
this week.  Do you think you ought to see a doctor?"

"No, no, I'm fine.  I just -- there is something, but let's walk
a bit."

She nodded, satisfied for the moment.  "Your work's fine, you
know.  It's not that.  And you don't have to tell me if it's
personal.  I mean, being at the same office it might make you
uncomfortable, because, you know, I might have to do something
about it if company policy ...."

I took a gamble.  "But if I told you something ... as a friend?"

She smiled and didn't say anything for a minute.  "It's pretty
out here, isn't it.  I've heard that some people think the
Midwest is ugly, but I say you can take your mountains and
oceans.  Give me the prairie any day."

"Yeah, I really prefer this kind of scenery too."  We walked
silently for awhile.  Then she spoke up.

"So, uh, how are things at home Mark.  Still the same?"  I
nodded.  She winced.  "Sorry about that.  You know, a lot things
would've been different if we'd stayed together.  Not that I'd
give up my kids for anything!  But ... you know, you can think
about things."

"I know.  I guess Cheryl kind of swept me off my feet."

Karen snorted.  "Well, you were susceptible to her, at least. 
You couldn't stay away from her, as I recall it, no matter what
I did.  And I'd thought ... well, that's old history by now. 
Funny how we never talked about it, all these years, working in
the same office and all."

I was keeping pace with her, pretty much, and then she slowed
down a bit to make it easier to talk.  "I don't really
understand, Mark what attracted you to her.  I mean, I know some
guys just look at girls' muscles.  Some girls are like that too,
with guys' bodies.  But I, you know, I thought other things were
more important to you.  I mean, we had so much going for us, so
much in common."  She'd really slowed down now.  "We could have
had one of those true marriages of equals.  We're almost the
same size.  You're a little taller, I'm a little thicker I
guess, but we could have shared everything.  Instead, everything
got mixed up.  I mean, I loved Bob very much.  But I always
wondered.  Didn't you?"

"Yes," I said quietly.  I had wondered, a little, back in the
old reality.  But in that reality Karen was my first girlfriend,
and she seemed almost a part of myself.  Marrying her would have
been like marrying a friend.  Now, walking side by side, we were
even closer.  I really felt like I could talk to her.  But I
wasn't sure what it would have been like marrying her.  It would
have almost been too intimate.  I cleared my throat.

"Karen.  I -- I don't belong here."

[zarina]

"What do you mean, Mark?" she replied, a little startled at the
turn of the conversation.  "You mean, here alone with me?"

"No, no.  It's not that.  I mean," I threw up my arms, "I mean
here."

"You've lived here almost your whole life.  Where else would you
be?"  She was looking at me carefully.

"Yes, but, not ... here.  Things ... things have been changed
Karen.  I don't expect you to understand this, but I have to
tell somebody, and I think you're the only one I trust."

She smiled briefly.  "Thanks, Mark.  I appreciate it.  Well, go
on.  This town not big enough for you these days?"

"No, it's ... uh a bigger problem than that."  I paused, and
then plunged in.  "Reality's been changed, Karen.  I mean, I
come from a world where almost all men are bigger and stronger
than women, where men have all the important jobs and women
mostly just take care of the kids.  And Cheryl, there, she's
just about the same size as me, and you're a lot smaller.  And
Bob -- he had financial problems, but I helped him and he didn't
-- you know -- didn't die.  And you, you do volunteer work and -
-

She laughed nervously.  "What funny ideas you have!  How'd you
ever come up with that one?"

"It's real, as real as this.  At least it used to be."

"Uh-huh.  And what happened?" she went on, nervously.

"You know Tara, Tara Beaumont?  She was my secretary.  She got
hold of a machine that changed everything to what it is now. 
That's how she got to be so rich."

She laughed.  "Quite a machine.  Better than Powerball.  I'd be
happy with a hard drive that didn't crash."

"Please don't joke! I know you think I'm crazy, but Karen, all
my memories are of that world, not this one.  I don't know who
else I can talk to about it." 

I stopped and held her back, and she stayed still, looking into
my eyes.  She put her hand to my face.  "Poor Mark.  You really
believe this."

"No, it's not that I believe it, Karen.  I've lived it.  I have
trouble believing this is real."

She looked at me intently, still searching my eyes, and said
softly, "Yes.  I can see that."  Then she went on with her
midwestern practicality, "but I haven't.  This is all I know. 
This is who I am.  What am I supposed to do about it?"

"No, I just can't believe it.  You've been part of my life as
far back as I remember.  You must have some recollection!  The
past I've lived cannot have completely vanished!  Think hard,
really hard.  Tell me what you remember about our first kiss."

Karen smiled.  "Okay.  That's a good place to start.  It was
spring, in high school.  We'd gone to a movie.  I was walking
you home."

"Wait -- you were walking ME?"

"Well sure.  That's how I was brought up.  You know, girls grow
up sooner, so I was bigger than you then, and so I did the
ladylike thing and made sure you got home safely.  Anyway, the
moon was out and we looked into each other's eyes.  It just
seemed so perfect, so I bent down and kissed you.  You didn't
object at all, I recall."

"Of course, not, but I walked you home.  I bent down to kiss
you, and you licked your lips afterwards and said I tasted like
an apple."

"I did say that!  And you were embarrassed, and I had to hold
you to stop you from running away."

"I was embarrassed, but I wasn't running; you held me to show
you that you didn't mean anything by it, except that you liked
it."

"I did like it, and I wanted another kiss but --

"We saw Father Meyer and he stared at us --

She laughed.  "Who's Father Meyer?!  It was MOTHER Bell.  SHE
laughed at us.  Until we started walking again."

They both spoke at the same time.  "You DO remember it, but --

"differently," Karen said.  "Obviously."

"And this is as real to you as the other is to me," I answered.

"Then maybe it's true, what you're saying.  Somehow it makes
sense, a little."  We walked in silence.  "What does it all
mean?" Karen asked.

"I don't know.  I don't know what Tara's going to do next.  She
might make more changes."

"Will I know?"

"Maybe.  But, actually, I don't think so.  I think only I will
remember."

We kept walking.  "Mark, I'm glad you opened up to me like this. 
You've always been so private.  I hope -- whatever she does -- I
hope you can always talk to me.  I'll listen, just like today. 
I promise."

There were tears in my eyes. "Thanks Karen.  Thank you.  I -- I
feel so alone right now ... so confused.  I --"  I suddenly bent
down.  My mouth was becoming dry.  "Oh no!"

"What's the matter, Mark?"  I looked up.  Karen was reaching
down to help me.  I took it and she pulled me up, quite easily
it seemed.  My eyes widened.  We were exactly the same height
now, and she was broader-shouldered than I was. 

"She ... she just did it again, Karen.   She's made you bigger."

Karen looked at me skeptically.  "Oh Mark!  You can't be
serious!  I haven't grown for years!"

"You don't remember, I know.  But ... Karen ... you do remember
the talk we just had, right?"

"Oh yeah, of course!  And I'm really glad you feel you can talk
about it with me."  She put her hand on my shoulder and give me
an affectionate squeeze.  "It's really a strange story.  It must
be so hard for you to feel so out of place."  She kept her hand
in place possessively.  "It's nice thinking again about when we
were younger, you know, our first kiss.  I always thought you
sort of resented me, forcing myself on you like that.  But I
couldn't help it.  You were so cute, and I knew you liked me.  I
guess I did take advantage of the situation a little, suggesting
we take the 'long way' home because I wanted to see the moon! 
But it worked!"  She laughed.  "I shouldn't have tackled you
though when you tried to run away.  You got in a lot of trouble
for being so muddy.  I guess it's not fair that we girls grow up
so much earlier and we're so much bigger and stronger for
awhile, but it mostly evens out in the end, right?"

I was fascinated, and a bit frightened.  What else had changed? 
"Oh yeah!  I didn't remember that."

"Really?  I thought you'd hold that against me forever!  It was
so unfair of me too, taking advantage of you like that.  Boys
are so much weaker than girls at that age.  But I guess you were
always kind of slight, and you were probably used to it.  Well,
I'm glad you're such a good sport and it's all behind us now." 
She put her hand on my back and rubbed me.  "You still are cute,
you know."

"Yeah, well it's ... oh, no, not again!"  I felt dizzy and
nearly fell, but Karen caught me.  "Thanks, she keeps ..."  I
was looking up at her.  She was a couple of inches taller than
me.  "She's done it again!" I cried.

Karen smiled, a little indulgently.  "Just now?  Just like
that?"

"Yes!  Five minutes ago, I was a couple of inches taller than
you.  Now you're taller than me!"

She made a clucking sound with her tongue, put her hand on my
back and stroked me with her fingers.  "I don't know, Mark. 
I've always been taller than you.  Not as much as when I was
twelve, but you never really caught up.  But it's nothing to be
worried about.  Most guys are shorter.  Why would it bother
you?"

"No!  It's not that!  It's the changes!"

She rolled her eyes.  "Yeah, you told me your story, and it's
real interesting, but don't you think you're taking it too far? 
I've always liked you, you know that.  You really have an
imagination.  I bet you could be a writer.  Some guys do that
too, you know, when the kids are at school."  She moved her hand
down my back and licked her lips slightly.  "But you don't want
to keep going on about this.  People will say things about you." 
I started feeling dizzy again, but I was fully in Karen's arms
and she was supporting my weight.  Her hand was over the small
of my back and she pulled me closer.  "If you need to talk to
anyone about these dreams, talk to me, Mark.  I'm pretty
discreet.  But let me give you a little advice.  Keep it to
yourself otherwise.  And don't say anything to Cheryl.  You know
it's not the kind of thing she'd understand.  Not at all." 
Another wave of nausea passed through me and when I came too
Karen was reaching down and patting my penis, which was
uncomfortably hard, while her other hand supported me.  I looked
up at her towering over me by at least eight inches, and then
looked down.  My penis barely fit inside my pants, threatening
to peek over the waistband, which was now elasticized instead of
the snap on jeans I had put on this morning.  Waistband!  What
was going on?  And I'd never been that large!  "Karen wouldn't
understand at all.  But I don't have to tell you that, do I?" 
She bent down slightly and kissed me.  I shuddered again from
yet another bout of nausea and when I came to my arms were
around her, feeling her surprisingly broad back and firm arms. 
Her biceps were as thick as any I'd ever seen, and I could feel
her muscular power coursing through her body.   I felt very
small and helpless, and it felt good to have her hold me like
that.  "Aww, that's so sweet, Mark!" she said, lifting me so
that our eyes looked directly into each other.  She held me as
though I weighed nothing.  I realized what was happening.

"Uh, uh, Karen," I said, "maybe we shouldn't be --

She chuckled, grabbing my ass and lifting me up higher. "What's
the matter, is this a moral thing, or are you just about to
blow?"  She put one large hand under my ass and reached in front
with the other to stroke me a couple of times, making me groan
with pleasure, then she laughed and pushed against the base of
my member.  I felt the tingling quickly subside.  "You're so
sensitive, Mark, so easily aroused.  It's a good thing I can
stop you so easily, otherwise there'd be a lot more cleaning
bills, you know?"  I nodded.  "What funny creatures you men are,
so unable to control your feelings, or even your own bodies!  Is
that better?  Are you ok walking again?  I can carry you all
day, you know, but I thought you wanted the exercise."

"Uh, yeah, Karen.  I'm fine now."

She put me down and as my erection had subsided fully we started
walking again.  With my legs so much smaller than hers, I was
having trouble keeping up with her.  She'd slow down every so
often to let me catch up, but she was clearly getting a bit
bored with my slow pace.  "Hey, why don't you just let me carry
you Mark?  It's really no problem."  She hoisted me on her broad
shoulders and continued, my thin legs dangling against her
chest, bouncing against her breasts.  She didn't seem at all
self-conscious about it.  "You have to know your limits, you
know.  You have to work up to it gradually.  Next time try a
half-mile walk, OK?  I'm sure Freddy would go with you.  No
offense, Mark, but you just can't keep up with me, and I'm not
getting my exercise this way."

"Yeah, sure Karen.  Thanks."

"Don't mention it."  She picked me up again and held me in front
of her, against her large breasts.  She started walking, but the
motion felt almost violent to me and I clutched at her next and
shoulders.  She rolled her eyes and said, "Don't get shy on me,
Mark!  I mean, after all!"  She took my hand and shoved it under
her shirt and onto her breast.  "That's better.  You know it
makes you feel more secure.  Now we'll really move"  She picked
up the pace and strode quickly down the river path.  I bounced
around on top of her, but the motion of her breast against my
hand was reassuring and I clung to the warmth and comfort of her
powerful body.  I was getting aroused too, and several times she
reached down and pressed against my penis to stop me from
coming, smiling at me as she did it.  "Don't want a mess just
now, Mark!" she'd chirp, barely breaking her stride.  Her long
legs covered the ground quickly, but just before we got to town
she looked around and then headed off the path behind a bluff. 
Before I knew what was happening she'd laid back on the grass,
pulled up her skirt, pulled down my waistband and inserted me
inside her.  I was too shocked to say anything.  I thought I'd
come right away, but instead I found the pressure of her vaginal
lips too tight.  I was as hard as an iron rod and completely
aroused, but nothing happened for me, while Karen came half a
dozen times, each time more violently.  Finally she slowed down
and looked up at me, grinning sheepishly.  "Sorry I'm being so
selfish, but it's my fertile time.  I'll make it up to you. 
Really."  She patted me lightly.  "Do you want me to jerk you
off or something?" she added as she fixed her clothes.

"Uh, no.  That's all right."

"Yeah, it's probably for the best.  Save it for Cheryl, right?"

I nodded. 

Karen was already on her feet, looking very satisfied.  "Mary,
please forgive me," she intoned, her eyes half closed, her face
pointed upwards.  "My passions are strong, but my love for you
is great.  Hold me in your eternal embrace."

I was startled.  This was strange!  "You're praying to Mary? 
You're Catholic?" I asked.

"Catholic?  What are you talking about?"

"I've never known you to pray like that."

"I pray to the true Daughter of God.  Who else would I pray to? 
Her son?"  She said with half a smile.

"Yeah I -- oh, never mind."

"Come on, it's getting a little late. You'll be all right
getting home?  It's still light."

"Uh, huh.  Thanks, uh, for the lift."

"Ahh!" she waved.  "It's nothing.  It was fun seeing you like
this.  Sort of like old times."  We stopped in front of the post
office.  This was where our paths diverged.  "I'll see you at
work tomorrow.  It'll be a busy day, so get a good night's
sleep, ok?"

I nodded, unsure of what would await me there.  I watched her
head home, looking back at me once.  I checked my watch.  Three
thirty.  Fred's roast!  I went to the payphone to remind Fred,
then cut through the park on the way home.  I heard some
laughter, then footsteps approaching.  My warning antenna went
up and I reached for my wallet.  A big hand grabbed my arm and
turned me around.

[zarina]

"Hi Mark!" a big voice boomed, then burst into laughter.  It was
Tabitha.  She loomed over me, easily a couple of feet taller
than me, her enormous bosom above my head suspended by a narrow
tube of elastic cloth.  Her shoulders were so broad that my
whole body fit well within her torso.  I looked up at her
youthful, slightly mocking face, her red lips slightly parted by
the tongue that emerged unconciously as she assessed me, half-
tasting me already.  Her hands were on me, each of them cupping
half of my upper back as the round biceps of her overdeveloped
arms tensed slightly, exploding into hard balls the size of
melons.  The fresh scent of her long hair mingled with the odor
of her sex, which her long legs lifted close to my chin, and I
felt myself responding to her.  "Oooh!  My little sweetheart! 
What a surprise to find you here.  I was just talking about
you!"

"Tabitha!"

She responded with a low, throaty laugh, her breasts heaving
slightly, and she pulled me closer to her, my face resting
against the soft skin of her abdomen, but I could feel the hard
sixpack of muscle below.  "Tee-hee, you're such a cutie!"  She
put her hands under my arms and I felt myself rising quickly in
the air, her powerful muscles easily lifing my small body.  Her
fresh tongue hungrily found mine, and she pressed me against her
body, forcing my body against her cushiony breasts as my growing
erection rubbed against her hard abdomen.  "Mmmmmm, Mark. 
Telling me you don't want me when you do only makes me want you
more. I can't help myself.  I just love the feeling of you
fighting against me, and yourself, and LOSING!"  She squeezed me
more tightly, and I felt those big, hard arms against my back
while my chest compressed her breasts in front.  I was lost in
her flesh and my body shivered, on the verge of coming, when she
laughed again and let go with one arm and hoisted me higher into
the air and then let me slide down.  "That's enough!" she
teased, looking down at my still unstained pants and touching my
penis lightly, magically stopping the sensations.  "If you can
admit really want it, come around.  You have to ask for it --
this time!"  She put her hand on my penis again and lightly
stroked it, then laughed again and bounded away to rejoin her
giggling friends.  I stood watching her, panting, and then
walked stiffly back to my house.  There, waiting for me outside
were Amy and Ryan, playing football in the back yard.  Amy was
four and Ryan seven, but he was having trouble tackling his
stocky sister.  She squealed, delighted with the game, shrieking
with laughter, as she walked toward the goal with him hanging
onto her waist.  I sighed and went inside to make dinner. 
Cheryl was out with some friends and didn't get back until late.

I came in to the office Monday, immediately confused by the
layout of desks.  Fortunately Karen had something for me to do
for her right away, and I followed her to my office, a small
partition at the end of the corridor, where she dropped off some
papers for me.  It was an unbelievably busy day, with earnings
reports coming out on half of the companies we followed.  I
wasn't sure exactly what I was supposed to do.  The report
seemed almost done, and I guessed that I was supposed to
proofread or correct it and I gave it back to Karen with some
marginal notes, which she looked over and nodded.  I went back
to my partition and read through my emails, mostly
administrative things.  I'd come down even further in the office
pecking order, for sure. 

I stayed in at lunch time, mostly to read emails and get a
better idea about my job.  The office was almost empty, and I
heard the door open and looked around, a little nervous.  "Who's
there?" I asked loudly.

"Just me, Mark.  Tara.  I know you're alone."

She sauntered to the back of the office.  "Have fun with Karen
and Tabitha Sunday?"

I looked up at her.  She was wearing another stunning black
dress, sequined, strapless and sleeveless, the bulging muscles
of her well-toned arms evident even as she stood still before
me.  "What do you know about it?"

"I know a lot of things I shouldn't.  Your "heart-to-heart" with
Karen was cute, but I guess you won't be able to keep that up
now.  And that Tabitha's a real knockout isn't she?  Wasn't it
great to see what her genes can do?" she snickered.   "And she's
just fifteen!  Imagine how strong she'll be in a couple of
years!"  She looked down at my crotch, pulsing slightly.  "Awww,
Mark.  Maybe you don't want to wait so long to find out."

"Cut it out, Tara!"

"Does my talking bother you?  Maybe it would be better with less
talk, more action?" 

I stared at her impassively.  "Why don't you just let me finish
my work so I can go home?  You have a better place to go too,
don't you?"

"I wanted to show you something. My latest invention."  She
pulled out a flat screen.  It had a picture of Tabitha and me
from the day before, digitized onto a computer. Tabitha was
lifting me into the air, her eyes bright as they looked into
mine, her 19" biceps pumped from holding me, while my feet hung
down between her legs, inches above the ground.  Tara pushed
some buttons on a keypad at the bottom of the screen, and
immediately our clothes disappeared, my hard erection apparent
against her tight abdomen, my chest pushing against her breasts. 
"There, now we can see everything!"

"What is this, a spying machine?"

"Oh no!  It's an extension of the dream machine, but instead of
working with mathematical algorithms, now it works with pictures
too.  It's much more fun this way."  She turned a knob, and I
felt slightly nauseous for a moment, then fine.  "There, it's
ready.  I'm just using you two as models, of course.  Tabitha's
far above average, of course, and you're pretty average, but
that won't matter.  Now, let's see."  She created an outline
around Tabitha's figure and began stretching it, increasing her
height, widening her shoulders and her hips, and as she did so,
my feet in the picture rose further off the ground.  Then she
pressed another button and Tabitha's body began flashing. 
"Watch carefully, Mark."  Her body began thickening, her biceps
slowly growing, her thighs and calves bulging even more even as
her biceps stayed in place, the muscular ridges on her stomach
deepening.  Tara smiled.  "It looks like it all goes to her
legs, doesn't it, but you're just too light to test her muscles
now." 

"You've made her so huge," I said quietly.

"She's about 7'3" now, and with the extra muscle she weights
about 480 pounds.  Does she still turn you on?  Let's see."  She
clicked again, and the body stopped flashing.  My body was still
wrapped around hers, my erection still hard against her.  "It
looks like you still find her attractive, Mark."

"This is so silly.  It's just a picture.  That isn't the way she
looked."

She shook her head.  "You don't understand, Mark."  She pushed a
button and I felt a wave of intense nausea and slumped to the
ground.  "It is." 

I shivered, the discomfort passing, and looked up at Tara, then
looked again.  Tara had grown even taller and more muscular. 
Her legs were bulging with muscle; her arms were thicker than my
legs.  She helped me up and my head came up only to her breasts. 
"How do you like me now?"  Her dress had grown with her body and
now was held up not only by her breasts but by prodigious
pectoral muscles.  She flexed her arm for me and a thick muscle
soared upwards.

"No, no!" I cried, backing away.  "You can't do this!  It's
obscene."

She smiled.  "Obscene!  Sounds sexy.  It's nice to hear you say
that.  Well, I can do it, and more.  I'm not even finished!" 
She bent down to her board and started manipulating the controls
furiously.  I thought of doing something to stop her, but her
strength was already many times my own, so instead I backed out
of the office and started running down the hall. 

"Go on, run away, but there's nowhere to go, Mark," she shouted
at me.  "I'll see you later, Mark."

I felt another intense burst of nausea and threw up my lunch,
falling again to the floor.  This was the worst bout yet. 
Everything was whirling, and then it stopped.  I felt weak from
the nausea, but the feeling didn't go away.  I swallowed and
opened my eyes.  It wasn't the nausea.  I was just ... weak.  My
body was like a stringbean, my arms thin and soft, my chest as
narrow as a ten year old's.  I looked around and looked up to
see my nameplate on a secretary's desk "Mark Newton".  I pulled
myself up slowly and sat down, breathing hard.  I looked around
at the names on the offices:  Karen Shaw, Marnie Jacobs, Bernice
Holmes, Carol van Hoch.  All women.  Just then Karen strode down
the hall.

Her voice boomed with authority.  "Mark!  Is that typing done
yet?"

I looked up at her, confused.  "I'm just doing it now," I heard
myself say.

"Well finish it right away.  I have a presentation to make to
the head of Amana's pension fund committee tomorrow and
Minneapolis wants to read it tonight."

I nodded and finished it the typing quickly, then walked into
her office, leaving the paper in her in tray.  She was leaning
back in her chair, her collar loosened while she talked on the
phone.  Looking up, she held up her hand for me to wait until
she finished.

"...so we were at the beach when this guy walks by with the
biggest dick I'd ever seen.  And he was wearing this black
leather thong thing around it, like he's hiding it or something. 
What a tease!  I don't know how it was holding it in, and he was
pretending that it wasn't there.  He was desperate, I knew, and
I thought about it, but he was just sooo ugly I couldn't bear
the thought.  Marcia and I just looked him up and down ... and
out!!!  Ha-ha.  Yeah, but it would have been an experience, I
guarantee it.  Hey, yeah, I gotta go too.  Bye."

She looked up.  "You're a married man?  No?  Oh yeah, right. 
Tara's boy."  She looked to the side.  "Well, I didn't embarrass
you, did I?"  She smiled when I said nothing.  "I hate it when
men get sensitive on you.  Let me see.  OK, fax this to Ms.
Wright at head office.  And remember to pick up my clothes
tomorrow at the cleaners.  I really do count on you.   You are a
good secretary -- when you put your little mind to it."

She stood up and I looked as her body rose higher and higher. 
Her large breasts were half a foot above top of my head, her
broad shoulders and thick arms filled the space in front of me. 
I looked down at my skinny, soft arms, my thin frame.  Tara had
made me even weaker -- women being larger and stronger wasn't
enough for her.

"Is something wrong Mark?  You're not going to faint, are you?"

My voice was soft and squeaky.  "No Ms. Shaw.  It's just late. 
I'll take care of everything for you."

"Well, ok then.  And if you need to come in a little late
tomorrow, that's fine.  I won't be here.  But don't take
advantage."

"Thank you, Karen -- I mean, Ms. Shaw.  You've always been very
kind to me.  I mean do you remember when we ...."  I wasn't sure
what to say.

She stood impatiently.  "Yes?  What is it Mark?  I really have
to go."

I searched her eyes for some recognition of a relationship. 
There was none.  "I'm sorry Ms. Shaw."

She looked me up and down quickly and grunted, then put on her
coat and walked out.  I went back to my desk and prepared the
fax, trying not to think about what had happened.  The telephone
rang.

"Hello Mark.  Do you know who this is?"

The voice was familiar, but deeper than I remembered.  I wanted
to say Tara, but...yes.  "Tara?"

"Very good.  It's getting harder for you, isn't it?  Finish your
work.  I'll meet you downstairs in half an hour."

I set up my PC to send the fax and put on my coat.  I was
wearing a skirt!  I hated the way it rode up against the coat
fabric.  It was so cheap.

When the elevator door opened, a tall dark haired woman was
waiting.  She turned around.  It was Tara, but now she was a
couple of feet taller than me.  She was dressed in an expensive
fur coat.

"Well, hello Mark. Nice to see you again.  How are you feeling
tonight?" she said with a slight sneer.  Her voice was rich,
melodious.

I looked up at her lustrous hair, her erect bearing, her perfect
features.  She smiled at me and put her hand to my back guiding,
no, propelling, me out the door and into her waiting limousine. 
It happened too quickly for me to protest.  The back of the car
was as large as a bedroom.  She reclined on the long seat and
beckoned me to sit next to her.  I moved a little closer, but
kept my distance.

"What's going on now, Tara?"

"Whatever do you mean?  It's just another regular day.  Tell me,
is it hard being a secretary?  At least I'm saving you your bus
fare tonight, and this stockyards area where you live isn't too
safe for you boys.  Too bad you can't afford a car.  You know,
you have nearly the same little studio apartment I had when I
worked for you.  I can't wait to see what you think of it. 
Well, at least this time we don't have to worry about your wife. 
You're not married."

I thought about it.  I had no new memory of Cheryl.  No memory
of going away to school either.

"What do you want with me, Tara?  Are you still looking for
revenge?"

She smiled.  "It's fun to dominate you like this.  I've made
this universe.  Here I have total power, physically,
economically, socially, and you have none.  Why, just look at
how I've remade the female body."

She slipped off her coat and laid it on the other side, then
removed her jacket and shirt and pulled off her pants.  "I'm
still small for a woman, but even a small woman is over six and
a half feet tall now, compared with your puny five foot one
inches."  Her body was packed with muscle, the round biceps
extended out from her upper arms even as she rested.  I could
tell she worked out regularly.  "You know it's wonderful how
easily a woman can add muscle!  One or two workouts a month are
all I would need to keep myself hard and strong.  Daily sessions
in my private workout room make me grow and grow.  My arms are
over 24 inches around! I love it!  Meanwhile, you men have
hardly any muscle at all, and little ability to increase your
pitiful strength.  Your bodies are designed for one purpose
alone - to give us pleasure, and your blood supply, your
glandular output, even your little brains have little capacity
to work outside of that narrow function.  You'll see."

"Let me fill you in a little more Mark.  You never went away to
college; men don't have the physical or mental capacity.  You
had to work, so you went to secretarial school and graduated in
the top third.  You did well in your first job, but after ten
years the company folded.  With the economy bad, it was hard for
you to find work.  They wanted younger men, even though you are
good at your work, because you men are so weak and die so young,
at least compared with us.  I still think you're cute even
though you are getting on in years, for a man that is, so I
hired you to work for my brokerage company, where you're a
secretary for some middle level managers.  It's just part of my
business empire, you know.  Financial services, technology,
pharmaceuticals, computer software.  All under Beaumont
Enterprises.  Beaumont makes up almost a quarter of the American
economy -- Microsoft, GE, Citigroup, Merck, Intel and IBM rolled
into one -- and I own two-thirds of it.  Can you imagine how
wealthy I am?"

"Nice of you to visit us here in the heartland," I quipped,
weakly.

"I like it here.  Anyway, this is where the action is.  Omaha's
the biggest city in the US.  New York's just a little ol' port. 
But why talk about business?  You're so far away, Mark.  Why
don't you come a little closer?"  She reached over with her long
arm and pulled me closer.  I pushed against her arm, but she
just ignored me, lifting me up with one hand so that I lay on
top of her, my puny muscles helplessly trying to resist her. 
She put one big hand on my hip to hold me there, the other under
my skirt, and started stroking my leg, working her way up higher
and higher.  I shivered with excitement, trying to resist the
feelings she was inciting, but I could feel the inevitable
thickening of my member. 

"There must be laws against this you know!"

"There aren't.  Men don't vote. They're too easily influenced,
you know.  But what would laws be to me anyway, Mark?  I have
the government in my pocket, not to mention to dream machine."

"What are you after?"

She stroked me.  I had grown now to eight inches, my member
starting to show at the bottom of my skirt.

[zarina]

"I just want to show you how it's done here.  You have to admit
this was a clever touch on my part.  Of course when I made women
larger, I had to make your penises larger too to satisfy us.  It
makes so much more sense for men to wear skirts, so that you're
not boxed in so tightly when you get aroused.  Otherwise, it
would be very painful being constricted by your pants."  She
stroked me harder and I still grew.  My head started to swim and
I began to perspire.  "Having an erection takes a large part of
your energy.  The blood flow to your organ makes it hard for you
to think.  It makes your legs and arms even weaker so you can't
run away  It really makes you totally unsuitable for any
sustained work, especially at the times of the month when you're
the most easily aroused.  It doesn't take much for us to render
you completely insensible.  I've heard that the lightheaded
feeling can be very enjoyable for you men, although of course
it's not as intensely pleasurable as our orgasms.  But then,
that kind of excitement would probably kill you.  Oh yes, one
other key fact -- once you get aroused, you can't do anything
about it.  Without the strong pressure and the combination of
heat and moisture our mouths or vaginas supply nothing can bring
you to release.  So you see, even if you weren't so weak
compared with a woman you would be completely dependent on us. 
Throughout history men have worked to build an artificial
vagina, but you'll never succeed." She ran her long finger up
and down my shaft, now nearing its full sixteen inch length.  I
could hardly concentrate on her words, much less say anything
myself.  I was lost in a welter of sensation and emotion.  She
wrapped her hand around it and stroked me roughly, up and down,
again and again.  It felt heavenly, but it only served to make
me harder, pushing my skirt up to my waist as my penis stood up
straight in the air. I clawed at her, needing her so, begging
for release.  She held me firmly and pulled me inside her,
working my member into her with her powerful vaginal muscles
pressing against my shaft.  In my haze I felt the shudders of
her body like a series of rolling earthquakes against my much
smaller one.  When she was satisfied she changed the motion and
began to squeeze me, tighter and tighter.  I felt her
temperature rise as I moved blissfully toward release. 
Exhausted, I fell asleep gratefully in her arms.

I awoke in a small fold-out bed, in what had to be my apartment. 
The phone was ringing.

"Hello?"

"Mark.  It's Freddy.  Aren't you coming in today?"

"What time is it?"

"It's ten-thirty.  Look, I can cover for you today and you can
rest over the weekend.  I can hear it in your voice.  Who was it
last night?"

"Huh?  It was Tara."

"Hmmph.  You lucky dog.  I don't know what she sees in you, but
you better keep yourself in trim to make sure she keeps seeing
it.  Well, I'm sure your job's safe at least.  I'll meet you at
the club Sunday, if you're recovered.  Take it easy.  Did you
have to do anything today?"

"Um, let me think.  Clothes.  Kar - Ms. Shaw wanted me to pick
her clothes."

"Right.  OK, I'll do it.  Hey, you sleep it off.  I'll check up
on you later."

"Thanks, Freddy.  Call me, okay?"

"Of course.  We guys have to look out each other, right?  Bye."

I tried to sit up but I felt totally drained and dropped off
back to sleep.  Finally at two I got up and stumbled to the
kitchen.  I ate some salad and yogurt and felt a tiny bit
better.  I looked through my small apartment.  Nothing but
beauty magazines and romance novels.  There was a scale -- I
weighed only ninety three pounds!  I turned on the television. 
Everything was twisted.  ESPN showed nothing but women's sports. 
I saw a boxing match with two seven and a half foot woman titans
battling each other to a draw, each of their punches with more
than enough power behind it to send Mike Tyson flying out of the
ring, but these two women just absorbed the blows and hit back. 
I watched the market news for awhile, but I was too tired to
concentrate on the discussion of the economy.  I tried some of
the dramatic shows.  It was bizarre.  Virtually every show was
about women, from sports, to war, to work.  There were no family
comedies.  Occasionally a man would appear, generally to be
raped as I had been the previous night, and then abandoned. 
Were we so invisible now that we didn't even warrant an
appearance on television?

I looked out the window at the drab industrial landscape outside
my window.  There was the Salem ad.  One large woman, her left
arm bent slightly and a thin man sitting on her forearm looking
at her with an adoring expression, her right hand holding a
half-finished cigarette, which she looked at, ignoring the man.
The caption:  "Before or after, it's always time for Salem."

I shuddered and decided to take a walk.  A passing woman looked
at me strangely, but opened the door for me.  It would have been
too heavy for me to manage.  I started down the street,
perspiring from the effort and realized I didn't have the
energy.  I turned back and collapsed in my bed and slept most of
the next two days.

On Sunday "Freddy" called again, reminding me of our date.  I
told him I was still feeling ill, but I wanted to meet him at
the club.  I found the address on an ID card and started on my
way.

A few blocks from my apartment, I saw a group of girls coming my
way.  From their faces, I guessed they were about fifteen, but
they were all gigantic.  They started pointing at me and I
started to get nervous.  I thought about crossing to the other
side, but before I could do anything, they had surrounded me.

"Can you believe this guy?"

"Nice pole on him!"

"Tabitha!  You're so rude!"

They all laughed.  I turned to the one who made the remark.  It
was Tabitha, the babysitter, but this Tabitha was a behemoth,
seven foot nine, at least four hundred fifty pounds.  Her huge
breasts stood in front of massive pectoral muscles; her solid
stomach was ribbed with muscle.  Her shoulders seemed a mile
wide.  And her arms.  She was only fifteen, but they were each
thicker than my legs and looked rock hard.

"Oooh, Tabitha, he likes you!"

"They always like Tabitha!"

Grinning, she reached down and scooped me up effortlessly with
one tree-trunk arm.

"You should be more careful, old man.  Are you sure you have
enough energy to play with a youngster like me?"

"Tabitha.  I"

"Oh, you know my name!  A secret admirer?  I like hearing you
say my name!"  She reached under my skirt and started to massage
me.

"No, please!"  But it was too late, I could feel myself start to
grow and lose control.  Against my will, my arms cleaved to her
huge body, and I buried my face in her massive chest.

"He seems sweet.  Girls, I'll see you later.  Don't want this
poor feller to be stuck in a stiffy.  Just hope I don't kill
him."

Through the haze I could hear one of them turn my head toward
her and look into my eyes.  "Well Tabs, he looks pretty far gone
to me.  At least let him die happy."

They all laughed again, and I felt myself being carried a long
way.  I pressed against her, needing her warmth, her strength. 
She lay me down on the grass in a secluded part of a park and
pulled down her pants.  My mouth hung open at the size of her
legs.  Enormous mounds of muscle, but I didn't have the energy
even to reach down to touch them.  She lifted me again and
pushed me inside and I felt her powerful muscles manipulate me. 
Again and again she came, and I grew weaker and weaker.  Day
turned to night and still the behemoth held me fast.  Finally,
she took pity on me and I felt the moist heat of her tunnel
surround me, bring me to climax.  Then, complete darkness.

The next thing I heard was Tara's deep voice.

"Well, Mark.  So you finally made it with your babysitter."

"Tara," I rasped.

"Sshh, Mark.  Don't talk.  You're exhausted.  You should have
known that men can't have sex more than once a week, especially
at your age, and especially with a young girl like Tabitha.  But
I guess it's my fault, putting you in this situation without
educating you better.  Now listen.  Everything will be alright. 
I don't want you to die.  I've decided to go back to a world
you'll recognize."

I looked at her gratefully.

"Oh, that's sweet Mark.  Don't thank me.  Of course, things
won't be exactly the same, but at least you'll be alive."

She left the room.  I could feel my energy fading.  My eyes
closed.  Then I felt another violent wrench and looked up.  I
was back in my old office.  The original office.  No demotion. 
I peeked outside.  No Tara!  A secretary I didn't recognize.

"Yes, Mr. Newton?  Do you need me?"

"No Linda.  Thanks."  Linda.  I knew her name.  She'd been
working for me for five years.  The best secretary a man could
have.  Single, not too pretty.  Smart, but not too ambitious. 
"I think I'll call it a day Linda.  Why don't you go home too?"

"Oh thanks, Mr. Newton, but I need to finish up here.  Are you
feeling well?  Will you be in tomorrow?"

"Yes.  I just have some errands to run."

She smiled.  "So you remembered Cheryl's birthday this year.  I
was just going to remind you.  Very well.  Good evening, sir."

I smiled briefly and left through the back door.  I walked
through the building.  There was a small office for DRG, Tara
Beaumont, President.  It was locked.

My car was the same as it was originally.  I picked up flowers
and drove home.  There was my sweet Cheryl and our children.  I
hugged them all and Cheryl squeezed me tightly, happily
surprised by the gift.  On the spur of the moment, she called
Tabitha to babysit so we could go to dinner and asked me to pick
her up while she dressed.

As I drove I felt a slight queasiness in my stomach, but it
passed quickly.  I looked around, worried that Tara was at work
again, but everything was exactly as before, exactly as it had
been, exactly as it was supposed to be.  I sighed with relief as
I entered the driveway.  There was Tabitha, seductive as ever,
wearing a low-cut top and shorts.  Her breasts seemed larger
than I remembered, but that wasn't anything to complain about.

"Mr. Newton. So what do you think of my new top?"

"Uh, it looks a little tight Tabitha.  Are you sure you don't
want to change?"

She shook her head and ran around to the front door to get in
beside me, breasts bouncing vigorously.

"Don't you think I'm looking more grown up, Mr. Newton?"

"Absolutely Tabitha.  You will make a young man very happy, I'm
sure."

"I bet I could even make an older man pretty happy.  Are you a
breast man, Mr. Newton?"

I stopped the car short, brakes squealing.  "Tabitha!  I can't
believe you're talking to me like this!  I'm a married man, old
enough to be your father, well almost, and you're still a young
girl.  Now stop or I'll have to take you home."

She pouted the rest of the way.  When we arrived, Cheryl looked
at her closely, and then at me, but she satisfied herself that
everything was normal.  She took my arm and we went out
together.

It was a wonderful evening.  We ate and drank and danced and
laughed.  Cheryl and hadn't been in sync like that for years.  I
figured I was so relieved to be back in the normal world, and
had missed my true wife so much, that my joy must have infected
her.  We got back late.  Tabitha was sleeping on the couch. 
Cheryl woke her and I checked the kids, then I got ready to take
her home, but Cheryl insisted on driving her. Remembering what
happened earlier I wasn't about to argue.

The next day at work was a little odd.  Many of the secretaries
and other women called in sick.  Linda was there, of course, old
reliable Linda, but she looked spiffier to me somehow, younger
perhaps.  I complimented her and she smiled, wagging her finger
at me in a good-natured way.  The morning went smoothly, and I
went out to lunch myself, deciding to get a sandwich and eat in
the park.  I climbed up to a secluded place I knew, a rock
behind some trees, and sat down with my lunch, my coke and my
Wall Street Journal.  Halfway through my sandwich I heard some
rustling.  It was Tabitha!

"Tabitha!  What are you doing here?"

"It's a free country", she retorted quickly.  Then, more
quietly, "May I ask you something, Mr. Newton?"

"Of course Tabitha.  But are you in some trouble?  Shouldn't you
be in school?"

"Yeah, I should, but I'm not really in trouble, except maybe for
school.  What I wanted to know, is, uh, what turns you on about
a girl?"

"Tabitha!  I don't think.  I mean, it's not that I'm shocked,
but that's a very direct question.  And not at all the kind of
thing you should ask me.  You know I'm married, with a family."

She didn't seem at all deterred.  As if she hadn't heard me, she
went on.  "I figured you liked breasts, but then I could see
they made you kind of nervous.  Then I realized Cheryl doesn't
have big boobs.  She's kind of a jock or something. And I
wondered whether you'd be more interested in me if you saw me
with a little more muscle.  You know, I really am quite
athletic.  You should see me do gymnastics."  With that, she
bent over into a handstand on the rock.  I jumped up, concerned
she'd fall on the hard surface, but I quickly saw that she was
completely in control, her arms easily supporting her weight as
she hand-walked around the rock.  I was surprised, although now
that I looked at her more closely, she did seem to have more
muscular arms than I had remembered from before Tara started
changing everything.  Noticing my glance, she flipped herself
upright, doing a somersault in the air, and spread her arms,
bowing slightly.

I smiled and clapped politely.  "That's very good, Tabitha, but
I don't want you performing for me."

I saw the tears form in her eyes immediately.  "But why?," she
cried, voice rising.  "Why do you reject me all the time?  Why
can't I have you?"  She looked deeply hurt, her fists clenched,
knuckles white with tension. She turned away from me, and I
thought she was leaving, but in a slow, pained voice, she
declared, "I want you, Mr. Newton, Mark, I mean.  I know what
you like now, and I will have you!"

I didn't understand what was going on.  Tabitha was acting very
strangely.  She looked at me, making sure that she had my
attention, and then seemed to concentrate.  I was startled to
see her body suddenly erupt in an explosion of growth and
muscle.  Before my eyes, she sprouted six inches, until she was
as tall as I, and her arms grew impossibly thick with dense,
hard muscle.  Her shoulders broadened and her chest deepened,
with her pert breasts standing tall upon her large pectoral
muscles.  In fact, she was only a slightly smaller version of
the behemoth Tabitha who had "killed" me less than a day ago.

I almost screamed, when she rushed over to me and clamped her
hand over my mouth,  I struggled to pry it off, but her strength
was overwhelming.  She put her other arm around my back,
pressing me closer to her.  Despite my best wishes, I found
myself responding to the close contact, stiffening against her
hard-muscled leg. I felt her purr deeply, and she started
licking my neck, her tongue thrilling my exposed skin.

"Oh yes, this is what I wanted.  And admit it Mark, this is what
you wanted to, isn't it?  She pulled her hand away and quickly
replaced it with her mouth, her lips powerfully sealing mine. 
Feeling the desire growing in me, I surrendered to it and joined
her in a passionate kiss.  I felt her body respond instantly
with a shudder, and she said, "You do like me this way.  Shall I
get even bigger?"  Before I could answer, I felt myself lifted
off the ground as she grew another foot in height.  Her torso
became broader too, so that my arms could barely reach around
her sides to her back.  "Yes, yes.  It's wonderful to have such
power and to be desired.  Tell me your wildest fantasy and I
will be it, but kiss me, kiss me more!!"  My hands played over
her impossibly huge muscles and she responded my making them
grow even more, until my hand looked like those of a baby's on
top of her arms.  I felt her gather me again in her arms for one
more squeeze, a gentle one considering her now enormous
strength, and then she let me drop down to my feet.  I looked up
at her, amazed to see now the full extent of her growth.  Why, I
barely reached her navel (and I was again my original 5'11"
height).

She sighed and giggled, and the next thing I knew she was
standing next to me, a normal 5'4" teenage girl again.

[zarina]

I looked at her in wonder.  "Tabitha!  What just happened?"

She winked at me.  "If you can follow me quickly enough, I'll
tell you," and disappeared through the bushes.  I grabbed my
suit jacket and tore after her, listening to her shout ahead of
me.  I reached the clearing, and was overwhelmed by the site of
hundreds of women in various states of splendor.  Some tall,
some impossibly sexy, all young and desirable.  Tabitha was
holding hands with three others and I watched as they changed
themselves into identical images of Tabitha and then ran in four
directions, one toward me.  I grabbed her hand firmly.

"Tabitha!  How are you doing this?"  She looked at me, smiled
and then suddenly changed form again.  It was Tara!

"Hello, dearest.  So what do you think?  Do you like your
chameleon women?"

"How am I supposed to know who I'm talking with?"

"You don't.  Only we know."  She closed her eyes and suddenly
was the amazon Tara again and gathered me in her arms, a couple
of feet off the ground.  "Come, little man.  Let me feel your
body next to me.  What's wrong?  Am I scaring you?  Or are you
just jealous?"

"This doesn't work!  How can I live when things change all the
time?"

"But I told you life would be hell for you if you rejected me. 
I'm only keeping my promise."

"It's not just me.  It's everyone.  You're destroying the
world."

"Oh, so you're worried about everyone else?  You think things
are changing too quickly for them?  Obviously you don't
understand how it works, but I can afford to indulge you my
sweet and grant you your wish.  For the last time.  Au revoir!"

She threw me a hundred feet into the air.  I panicked, and then
felt that wrenching, sickening feeling again and sat up,
startled and screaming, in my own bed.  Cheryl was next to me.

"What is it, honey?  Bad dream again?"

I looked over at her and carefully got back under the covers,
nervously edging toward her, then, feeling her firm, but smaller
body next to me, surrounded her in a grateful hug.

"MY!  You haven't done this at three in the morning for a long
time!  Maybe you need more bad dreams!"

"Cheryl!  I love you.  Please remember that, always, no matter
what happens!"

"Mark!  Is there something you need to tell me?"

I looked here straight in the eye.  "Only that I will love you,
and be true to you, for the rest of my life.  I promise!"

She looked but smiled anyway.  "I'm sure there's a story behind
this, but I'll take your promise.  You can tell me more
tomorrow."

I settled in next to her and we both relaxed and went back to
sleep.  I'd never be able to tell her the whole story, but at
least I knew what I had, and I would hold onto it now with all
my strength.

As if that mattered.

At work the next day, everything was suspiciously normal.  Linda
was my secretary again.  She had returned to her efficient,
somewhat dowdy self, and the rest of my staff worked in their
old ways.  I was desperate for lunch hour, then flew out of the
office to search the building for DRG.  It didn't exist.  I
checked the telephone book for Tara, under Donatelli, then under
Beaumont.  Nothing!  She had vanished, as completely as only the
Mistress of the Universe could.

For days I watched every event with unhealthy attentiveness,
waiting for the world to change in some horrible way.  But there
was nothing.  My children went to school each day.  Cheryl made
her usual rounds.  The office functioned.  And I spent each day
on tenterhooks, waiting for that call from Tara, or that
sickening feeling signaling another change.  Linda asked if I
was well.  My staff realized it was useless to try to get any
approvals on their projects.  Cheryl wanted me to see a doctor,
and then at least prevailed upon me to take my temperature.  All
for naught.

I researched the birth records of Tara's home town to see if she
even existed.  Sure enough, she had vanished there too, but then
I realized that the Tara Donatelli who grew up in St. Paul,
Minnesota had many switches ago become a Tara Beaumont, who
probably hailed from Beverly Hills, Far Hills, Shaker Heights,
Park Avenue, Greenwich, Connecticut or someplace like that.  I'd
never be able to track her down.

Slowly, I let life return to normal.  Then, three months later,
tragedy struck.  Cheryl and I had been attending marriage
counseling sessions three times a week.  Luckily we had found a
good therapist, and I thought we were rediscovering what had
made our early years of marriage so exciting.  We left the
building and crossed the street to our car.  Suddenly, out of
nowhere, a car sped toward us.  I don't know how I got out of
the way, but it hit Cheryl squarely and knocked her ten feet in
the air.  I saw a small hand flutter in the air as the damn
driver disappeared down the street.  I shivered when I saw the
license plate "DRG-2007."  DRG!  It must be Tara!! 

I ran back to Cheryl.  She was dead, and from the way the car
smashed her, it was a good thing.  I felt numb as I waited for
the police to collect the body.  Poor Cheryl.  Poor me.  Poor
kids.  And how would I take care of them now? 

My thoughts turned to Tara. Did I imagine that license plate
number?  I gave the information to the police, but they told me
there was no such registration in Iowa, and only one nationally,
in New Mexico.  Of course, I knew that with Tara's control of
the dream machine the information was meaningless.  Unless it
was some kind of message for me.  Was 2007 an address?  A date? 
Some kind of word?

The next few years were a blur, as any single parent with small
children would know.  It took months before Ryan could go to
sleep without an hour of crying, and Amy refused to leave me in
the mornings to go to school.  My career took a sudden change. 
My family couldn't help with the kids and I did not want to
leave them to daycare; luckily my boss found a way to let me
work at home on a flexible basis as an independent contractor,
developing interactive sales tools for my company on the web.  I
didn't lose the house, but my income nosedived.  In fact, I did
little for five years except raise Amy and Ryan and use my spare
moments to build a part-time consulting business.  With Cheryl
at home and the usual office routine, I had been a news hound,
reading three papers a day, plus interactive services.  Now, I
had no time even for one. 

I never heard from Tara, and as time passed I stopped thinking
about her and the whole bizarre adventure that preceded Cheryl's
death. 

But as we approached the third millennium, there were a few
events that stirred my awareness.  It started when I was working
on a communications interface for Nike for a portable web
surfer, the kind everyone wore instead of simple wrist watches. 
It was designed for runners who wanted to upload to the Nike
site their vital statistics, heart rate, blood oxygen levels,
temperature, lung capacity, while they ran. The Nike site kept
the information for their subscribers, measuring fitness levels,
both individually and in comparison with other runners in the
database and even providing alerts if certain levels were
exceeded or if the runner had a heart attack.  I was testing the
interface with the initial database when I noticed something
strange in the performance tables.  There were only very small
differences in the tables for men and women!  I remembered
hearing about the steady improvement in the record running times
for women marathoners, who were now approaching the men's world
record time of 2:05 set in 1996, but I had little time for the
news and just assumed that this reflected improved training
techniques, and the special abilities of elite female runners. 
Yet this database represented the composite performances of the
general population.

I scrolled over to another portion of the Nike site and found
that female performance records were improving at a much greater
rate than those set by men.  In fact, I found that since 1998,
the "Ironman" triathalon record had been held by a woman.  Nike
included a Sports Illustrated article that made a big fuss about
this and theorized that with the growing equality in athletics
programs resulting from Title IX, other endurance records that
depended on endurance as well as strength would soon belong to
women, noting in particular long distance swimming and track
records.  But I had another thought: Did Tara have something to
do with this?

Now, you must understand that I had been cut off from the world
outside my little office, except for the work projects I did,
and of course my children.  Most of my work was in the financial
services area, so I had completely missed the news about
athletic performance.  Now I thought about my children.  Amy was
now 10 years old.  Even though she was a bit of a tomboy, she
was a darling girl, helping with the housework.  I suddenly
wondered why I never had to protect Amy from her brother.  Sure,
when she was 4 and he was 7 he teased her all the time and I'd
always be punishing him for making her cry, but that had stopped
a couple of years ago.  A normal 13 year old boy would usually
be quite capable of torturing his 10 year old sister, and Ryan
was neither a weakling nor an angel.  Yet he stayed clear of
her.  They got on like best friends.  It wasn't my parenting
skills, that was for sure.

Since last year Amy had become very modest, so I could not
recall her being particularly muscular, but thinking about the
heavy furniture in the living room and the thorough cleaning
work she always did, I realized that to move the chairs and sofa
around required real strength, more than I would expect a young
girl to have.  So that afternoon, I was little devious and
instead of taking the kids home from school, I packed up their
swimming suits and took them for a surprise trip down to the
community pool.  They were shocked that I would take the time to
play with them, as I was always working, and they readily
agreed.  We clowned around for awhile; then I suggested we play
catch with Ryan.  I picked him up and tossed him into the water
next to Amy.  He burst out laughing.  Then Amy picked him up. 
She easily held him in the water while he giggled, and then she
lifted him out of the water over her head, all eighty pounds of
him, and threw him back to me. 

We played for five minutes this way, tossing Ryan back and
forth, giving me ample time to see the muscles in her arms
without staring at them.  These were not the arms of any ten
year old girl I could remember.  They would have looked more at
home on a boy of fifteen.  I reminded myself that girls matured
earlier than boys, but still, even mature women were not usually
that muscular.

I stopped the game, feigning exhaustion, and walked back to the
edge of the pool.   Now I looked around more closely at the
other women in the pool.  It had been a long time since I had
seen women with so little clothes on, and I had to try hard not
to stare.  Cheryl was athletic of course, so I was used to some
muscle tone on a woman, and I would expect the women who used
the pool to be a fit group, but I quickly realized that the
typical woman's body had changed.  Every woman in the pool had
noticeable biceps that bunched and popped when they bent their
arms and swam.  Their shoulders were wider, their thighs thicker
than any women I knew, except in one of Tara's universes.

My heart started racing; I felt faint and leaned against the
side of the pool.  Tara must be at work.  When had she done
this, and what would happen next?  I didn't want to make a scene
and fought to regain my composure before anyone noticed.  Amy
swam over.

"Dad, you alright?"

"Of course, Amy dear.  Believe it or not, this is as much
exercise as I've had in years.  I'll just get out and change. 
You can play a bit longer."

"No, that's OK.  Let's go home."  She looked concerned.  That
was all right.  She had no idea what was really bothering me.

I drove the kids home and Amy made dinner while I worked.  Then,
once they logged onto their computers and started on their cycle
of homework and network games, I started to do some real
research.

The growth in human female muscularity had not gone unnoticed,
except by me.  Since 1996, scientists had studied the
phenomenon, but had been unable to explain it.  Many thought the
accumulation of pesticides and other toxins were responsible,
but they could not find the mechanism that caused the increased
muscular growth or why it affected only women. They investigated
the obvious candidates for solutions, like an increase in male
hormones or changes in social customs that had previously
restricted physical exercise for women, but there was no
evidence for the former, and the universality of the phenomenon
made the latter a poor explanation, notwithstanding the theories
of the sportswriters.  In fact, the evidence was that male and
female babies born in 1999 showed no differences in muscle mass. 
Obviously, exercise had nothing to do with it.

I kept my suspicions about Tara to myself.  Who would believe me
anyway?

Three more years passed.  By now, there was no mistaking the
trend.  Women were the stronger sex now, in all respects.  My
thirteen year old daughter was three inches taller than I and
outweighed me by seventy pounds of dense muscle.  She treated
Ryan with affection and care, and he looked up to her as a
superior being.  After all, she was more than twice as strong as
he was.  Probably stronger than the two of us together -- not
that we ever tested it.  She was too sweet for that. 

Men were quickly dropping out of contact sports like football,
hockey and basketball, and as women acquired the skills that
years of practice brought to baseball, their superior strength
and speed would soon eliminate men from that sport as well. 
Only track, tennis and golf, with their separate classifications
by sex, retained a full complement of male players, although in
tennis the women's 170 mph serves and lightening quick volleys
brought an explosive quality to play that was quickly stealing
audiences away from the men's game.  And in golf, the longer and
longer courses being built to accommodate the 400 yard drives of
the top women players would soon leave the men's game a distant
second.  There still was a demand for male jockeys in
thoroughbred racing, however.

The extent of the changes hit me full force when Amy and I were
cleaning out the attic one day and found a stack of my Playboy
magazines from the 1980's.  She hooted at the skinny women laid
bare on the centerfolds.

"Were women really that weak, Daddy?"  She held out her arm and
flexed her 20" bicep with clear satisfaction.  "It must have
been horrible for them.  No wonder they got taken advantage of
all the time."

"Well, Amy, this was the way things were for thousands of years. 
Respect for women was always important, even though they were
weaker than men."

"I like things the way they are now.  Women get stronger and
stronger every year.  And we're a lot nicer to men than they
were to us when they were stronger.  You don't read about women
raping men, do you?"

"No, I guess not.  Women have different ways of satisfying
themselves and of getting what they want.  But I worry about how
far this will go."

"I know.  I guess all men do.  No one can figure out what's
causing it.  But you know what I think?  I'm just glad it's
happening while I'm alive."  She looked at one of the pictures
more closely.  "I don't even find that kind of woman attractive,
and I really don't understand why men thought so.  I mean, she's
just skin and blobs of fat.  I think some muscle is important to
being good-looking, even the small amount men have.  Oh, sorry
Dad."  She reached over and hugged me, squeezing my face into
her neck.  She was a sweet girl.

Finally, in the year 2005, the transformation of the human race
stopped, but not before my sixteen year old daughter had grown
over eight feet tall and more than six hundred pounds, most of
it thick, rippling muscle.  She had the strength to hold Ryan
out in front of her with one huge hand around his chest and keep
him there, flailing away, for an hour without straining herself. 
My head barely reached her large breasts, which had grown in
proportion to the rest of her body, and while she still
respected me as her father and humored my attempts to act like
one, the idea of exercising any authority over a child whose
biceps were larger than my waistline (the only part of me that
had grown!) was absurd. 

Besides, what could I teach her about survival in the world? 
Women had completely different needs than men.  Despite their
huge size, they needed little food except for their vitamin
requirements, as they apparently now had the ability to
synthesize much of their considerable protein and energy
requirements directly from the oxygen and carbon dioxide in the
air.  (I thought that was a nice touch on Tara's part, as the
eating requirements of four billion women twice the size of
adult gorillas would have soon led to worldwide famine.  It also
did wonders to reduce the greenhouse effect and stop global
warming.)  Of course teenage girls didn't have to worry about
being men taking advantage of them.  I tried to teach her
respect for others, but entirely new social conventions were
developing, and Amy mostly raised her eyes at my misguided
attempts to guide her.

"Oh Dad, boys don't want us to respect them.  They just want us
to play with them.  And they're so easy to please, why shouldn't
I?  It's not like they can get us pregnant.  You know, women
don't ovulate now unless they want to.  You really don't know
anything about women anymore, Daddy.  You should try to hook up
with one; you'd be a lot happier, you know."  She looked at me
searchingly.  "You're not one of those men who can only do it
with smaller girls, are you?"

She was referring to a group of men who had declared their
refusal to have sex with any girl taller than themselves.  Since
women reached six feet around the age of 11 now, this stance was
of more than questionable morality.

"Of course not, Amy.  But, I don't have to discuss these things
with my daughter!"

"Don't be mad at me Daddy.  Who else do you talk to?  Ryan? 
Come on, Dad.  Admit it.  I'm only sixteen, but aren't I mature
enough to be able to talk to you about these things?"

I didn't want to admit it, but the fact was that along with her
greater size, she seemed to have a lot of sense built into her. 
I was coming to trust her judgment on many things, and I
wondered what other changes, in brainpower or otherwise, Tara
had made that were not visible to the eye.  I reached up to pull
on her shoulder, and she bent down to let me kiss her.

"You're a wonderful daughter, Amy.  I couldn't ask for better. 
I promise I'll think about it."

But I did nothing.  Tara had to be out there somewhere.  I had
something to settle with her, and I did not want to get anyone
else involved.  So Amy took things into her own hands, and a few
months later told me that she was getting too busy to help with
my business and had hired an assistant for me.

"Assistant!  I don't want to bring in anyone from the outside!"

"Relax Dad.  She's very dependable and you know her.  You used
to trust us kids with her, I remember."

"Not Tabitha!"

She smiled.  "You guessed it.  She's starting today.  In fact,
she'll be here in a few minutes.  I didn't want to give you any
time to say no.  Just try it, and we'll talk about it in the
evening.  Bye, Daddy!"  She bent down to kiss me and zipped out
the door.  She always called me Daddy when she wanted to sway me
and it usually worked.

[zarina]

I barely had time to consider what to do when Tabitha knocked. 
I opened the door and was about to start on my "I don't need
your help" speech when I looked at her and was struck dumb.

Of course, I had seem many versions of Tabitha in my life. I
remembered them all, but I had never seen such a vision of pure
voluptuousness, such an excess of flesh, bone, muscle and hair,
all held together with a beauty and grace that was otherworldly. 
I could only stare.

"Amy says you haven't been out much in the past few years, Mr.
Newton.  You almost look like you've never seen a woman before,
at least, not this kind of woman."  She smiled and eased her way
inside, gently lifting me out of the way as casually as I would
move the curtains to let in some light.  "Or may I call you
Mark?  You know, I'm not a little fifteen year old girl
anymore." She laughed gently.

I heard her talking, but I could hardly concentrate on her words
while I gaped in wonder at her appearance.  She wore the barest
minimum of clothing, and everywhere I looked her body was
erupting out of its covering.  Her shorts barely reached below
her crotch, leaving over fifty inches of bare leg for me to take
in.  And what legs they were.  So long that they looked lean,
but so thick that the globes of muscle that expanded and
contracted as she moved pulsed with their own separate lives. 
Her sleeveless t-shirt stopped just below her breasts, which I
could see only by craning my head.  They sat under the thin
fabric of her t-shirt, suspended just above my head.  So large,
so available, and yet out of reach of my lips.  My lips!  What
was I thinking?!  She had been in my house only five minutes and
already I was imagining my mouth on her nipples.

She noticed my interest right away.  She smiled as she looked
down into my eyes.  "You know, Mark, when I was your babysitter,
I always thought you were very cute.  I think you liked me then
too.  You tried to be faithful to your wife, and I admired you
for it, a little.  But I was really mad I couldn't tempt you. 
I'm glad you're still interested."  She reached down and picked
me up like I was a baby, resting her large hand under my bottom. 
"You've put on a few pounds over the years, not that it matters
to me."  The sensation of being held effortlessly by Tabitha was
unnervingly erotic.  I could feel the huge firm muscles of her
arm against my shoulder and pondered the amount of strength she
must have to lift my 185 pounds without even flexing a muscle. 
Almost automatically, I rested my head against her shoulder and
she put my hand on the shelf of her breast.

"Come Mark, let's go to bed.  I want to show you a few things."

I stammered, reminding her that she was here to work, but she
waved her hand, saying, "There'll be time enough for that
later."  She carried me back to the bedroom and lay down,
holding me up with one hand while she slipped off her shorts and
her shirt.  My mouth hung open as my eyes swept over her body. 
She smiled, pleased at my reaction.  I had never seen such an
expanse of flesh, all molded to exquisite female form except for
the startling hard muscle that layered her frame like a second
layer of skin. 

I won't go into the details of what we did that afternoon.  Sure
enough, all I knew about love-making had become irrelevant in
the past ten years.  Men were no longer able to penetrate women,
except after extraordinary preparation on the woman's side, so
that most sexual activity took place with the tongue.  And even
in that area, it seemed that the men were superfluous.  Women's
tongues had grown several times larger and more powerful, and
they could pleasure each other in ways we men were wholly
incapable.  I could understand that at first hand now, as the
talents of Tabitha's tongue against my member were entirely
indescribable.  Still, she seemed to enjoy the afternoon with
me, and I found it the nicest reintroduction to the world of man
and woman I could have imagined.

Tabitha worked for me for two years, and during that time we had
sex a couple of times each month.  There was no emotional
relationship, for sure, but it brought me out of my shell and I
slowly became a normal part of this new society. 

But as we neared the beginning of the year 2007, I started to
lose interest.  I never forgot the license plate on the car that
killed Cheryl, and I was sure now I would meet up again with
Tara, somehow, soon.

Sure enough, as the year began, a cyberwave message arrived on
my receiver announced by the familiar "new mail" aroma I had
chosen (fried onions).  The graphic was a hauntingly familiar
handwritten invitation to the opening, that evening, of Dream
Research Group.  I had received another one twelve years, and
many universes, ago.

I had thought for years about what I would do when I met Tara,
and as I walked the thirty minutes from my house to the opening
I pondered long and hard over whether I would actually have the
will to kill her.  I knew she would have the strength and speed
to overpower me instantly, yet I would be happy to die trying. 
After all, what independent life did I, or anyone else, have, so
long as she lived and controlled the dreaming machine.

I entered the building carefully, but determined, my hand
fingering my energy weapon carefully.  The sign indicated that
the DRG office was on the third floor, just as it had been
originally.  The whole building was an exact copy of the office
building where I once worked.  The resemblance made me shiver,
and I pulled my coat around me more tightly even though I was
now indoors.  I knocked and heard her approach.  I felt my hand
in my pocket, closed tightly around the weapon.  The door opened
and I pulled out the weapon, pointing it high at where her heart
should be.  The ray roared through empty air and discharged with
a bang against a wall.

"Mark.  You'll need to aim that much lower if you want to hit
me."  She smiled at me from a face ten inches below mine.  It
was Tara, as she had been so long ago, unchanged after twelve
years, as beautiful and alluring as she'd been when I first met
her.  She reached out to take my free hand and drew me, with
charm, not strength, through the portal.  "Won't you at least
hold me before you kill me?"  She reached her small arms around
me, barely touching my back because of my expanded middle, and
gently caressed me with her delicate hands.  I stared at her,
amazed to see her small and so defenseless.  Her eyes searched
mine and I felt warmed by them.  Almost unconsciously, I bent
down to kiss her lips and felt the same thrill I had known from
her years ago.  Then suddenly, remembering what I had come to
do, I broke it off and felt the weapon in my hand.  It felt cold
and cruel.  I looked in her eyes;  the wild search for
vengeance, the angry, desperate passion was gone.  I held the
gun in my hand and then tossed it onto a chair.  She smiled at
me and led me to a sofa, gently pulling on my belt.

"Don't worry, Mark.  There won't be any other guests at this
opening either, just like the first one."

Watching her subtle, graceful movements made my skin tingle with
erotic excitement, and I undressed her as she undid my pants and
unbuttoned my shirt.  She whistled at my protruding belly and
clucked her tongue a couple of times.  "You'd better let me go
on top, big boy."  I didn't care; the soft, delicate feel of her
body excited me so and we quickly entered into a night of
lovemaking so intense that I would have doubted my ability to
perform it as a twenty year old, let alone at the age of fifty-
one.  Finally, I collapsed in exhaustion and slept.

When I awoke, Tara was sitting across the room, peeling an
orange.  She held out a section for me and I padded over, a
goofy smile on my face.  "What are you smiling at, Mark?"

"I just can't believe the night we had.  I guess I really did
miss you."

She nodded.  "It's been twelve years for you, but only a few
moments for me.  I wasn't sure how you'd react to seeing me."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," she chuckled, "from my perspective, when I first saw you
last night I'd just run over Cheryl ten minutes ago, then had
myself appear here, twelve years later.  I'm glad you don't hold
grudges the way I do.  I've really put you through the ringer,
haven't I?"

My jaw dropped.  "So you admit it!"

"Of course!  Didn't you see me wave?  I thought you might have
missed it.  You seemed very distracted."  She patted my stomach. 
"You put on more weight than I expected.  Well, we can take care
of that.  It gets in the way."

I was stammering, not sure what to do.

"Well don't worry about it, silly.  I'm not going to put you on
a diet!"  She took out a small device and ran her fingers over
the buttons.  I felt a wave of nausea and disorientation, and
the next thing I knew my stomach was flat as a board.  "There,
you're good as new!  Twenty years younger too.  Don't you feel
better?"

"Yes, I, but ...."

"Oh, Mark, aren't you excited that we're together again?  No one
in our way!  And you're so hungry for me I can feel it.  I
always knew you felt that way about me, and it seems the last
twelve years of your life has made it even stronger."

"Uh, look, Tara.  I really don't know about this.  And, much as
I like this body, it's not mine.  Would you change me back?"

"No way!  Why should I have to suffer just because it took you
twelve years to get to this point?"

"What do you mean?  What point?"

She sighed.  "Do I have to spell it out for you?  I want you.  I
know you want me.  Now we're together.  Got it?" 

She stared at me, and looking her in the eyes, I could see that
although she looked and talked like the Tara who worked for me
as a secretary, I was dealing with someone much more formidable. 
I wished I still had the gun in my hand.

As if she could perceive the thoughts slowly working through my
brain, she switched gears.  "One of the things I find so
interesting in you Mark is the way your heart and head are so
out of step.  You want me, you respond to me on this elemental
level, but you resist me, out of some sense of duty, of right
and wrong.  You are too wedded to the values of the world out
there.  You must come to understand that our dreams are all that
matter.  There is no world out there, no values, no right or
wrong.  All there is is the world we make.  Nothing else is
real."

I smiled, happy to take this discussion to the safer,
intellectual level.  "Well, perhaps that's true for you, Tara. 
You always lived by your own rules.  And yes, I find that
exciting in you.  But in the end, my feet are firmly on the
ground.  I know what's real and what isn't.  And after the last
twelve years raising my children on my own, surviving in the
world as I have, I have a firmer sense of that than ever before. 
You can have your dreams.  I have my life.  And in the end I'll
choose that life, with Amy, Ryan, even Tabitha, as I've made it,
every time, over the flight from reality you bring me, however
pleasurable it is."

"Mark.  Mark.  This life you talk about.  It isn't any more real
than what I'm offering you.  After all, I made that world too."

"Oh I know that's true, up to a point.  I know you changed
reality with your dreaming machine.  But still you don't control
everything.  I made choices.  I raised my children, good
children too, with good Midwestern values.  All by myself after
you murdered my wife, you who say there's no right and wrong!" 
I was getting emotional.

"There's no need to shout Mark.  You still don't get it.  I'll
try to explain it to you in language you can understand.  First,
the simple fact is that I've chosen you, and I will have no
other.  Now, perhaps for most women this would be a tragic flaw,
and would doom me to a life alone, pining uselessly for my true
love.  But fate dealt me a good hand and I had the courage to
play it.  Of course, I've had fun doing it and I've gone beyond
the bounds of the conventional morality you live by.  You know,
your 'cheating's ok if you don't get caught or if you stay
together for the childrens' sake.'  But I'm more interested in
results, and if I hadn't killed Cheryl, she would have killed
you.  It's simple as that.  I saw it happen time and time again
in every simulation I did.  She beat you to death if women were
strong.  She shot you if women were weak.  She poisoned you if
there were no guns.  And every time, out of loyalty and your
stupid, limited sense of right and wrong, you stuck with her
until the day she killed you, even though you loved me more, and
cheated on her with other women after the guilt from our affair
went away.  You always fooled yourself, Mark.  I knew exactly
what would happen these last twelve years.  I played it out
every which way.  There was only one way to do it right, and
I've done it.  And now, I'm going to enjoy the fruits of my
work.  I have you."

"But if that's true, why didn't you just kill her and take me
then?"

She shrugged.  "I could have.  But I was angry too.  I wanted to
teach you a lesson about power, and I've always done what I
wanted.  And you weren't terribly receptive to me just then. 
Now you know how much you want me.  It's just a matter of time,
but you'll learn to trust your heart.  And we'll be together. 
Forever."

I stared at her and a chill went down my spine.  What did she
mean?  I bolted up and moved for the door.  She sat watching me,
serene as could be.

"No, Tara.  I won't be a part of this game.  I don't know what
you have in store for me, but you don't control me.  My life is
elsewhere."

I opened the door and walked out, but the corridor seemed
unfamiliar.  I walked through to the end and suddenly found
myself back in the same room, face to face with Tara, and the
door I had just walked through was ten steps further in front of
me!

"Go on, Mark.  Do it again.  Or go back the other way.  It's all
the same.  All paths lead back to me.  Just follow your heart."

My heart!  It was racing at the speed of light.  I ran for the
door again and sprinted down the corridor and would have run
right into Tara, except that she was now sitting on the couch
again, waiting for me.

"What's going on!  How do I get out?"

"There is no out, Mark.  At least, not just now.  There are
other things we must do first.  Afterwards, we can expand our
horizons, bring others back into the world.  We can have any
kind of world we want.  But first we must rediscover each
other."

"But Amy!  Ryan!  What about them?  They need their father.  How
can you do this to them?"

She looked mildly annoyed.  "I told you, Mark.  There is no 'out
there.'  There's no Ryan, no Amy, no Tabitha.  There's just us." 
She pulled out her little device.  "I think you need a little
time by yourself.  I'm going to make this office a little
bigger, put in a pool, a bedroom, a sauna.  That's for me. 
Anything you want, dear?   You can always ask later.  Oh, and
and I'll do something about that nausea you always feel when I
dream.  It was a good signal to use, but it's not necessary
anymore, now that we're together.  I'll see you in a couple of
hours."

Before my eyes, her clothes changed into a one piece swimming
suit and she turned around to leave for a swim. Watching her
leave, I could feel that tingle in my groin.  Was this just the
stirrings of my younger body?  Was she that beautiful?  Did I
love her?

Did I have any choice?