The bar around them was energetic, filled with the daily ritualistic indulgence that is happy-hour. "I don't know how you do it Chris." He was referring to Chris' new girlfriend of course, who was still off in the ladies' room. "No offense man, but normally your outrageously hot girlfriends are a little lacking upstairs," his finger pointed to his head to help his meaning triumph over the noisy scene. "But this one's different. She's smart. How and where did you find a lawyer that looks like her, and does she have a twin? It might be worth giving my wife half." Some men using hyperbole to make a point would be half serious, Mark was not one of those men. He was a family man through and through. Still, Chris got his meaning, don't screw this one up.

"We've been dating two weeks and she hasn't asked to repaint anything in my apartment yet, that's a good sign." Chris liked to call it his three-month-curse. He wasn't an especially monogamous dater, but when he found someone he liked, really liked, he'd stay at it for a few months. Somewhere around three months was when the curse kicked in. From out of nowhere, perfectly normal girlfriends would start acting like they were already married. They'd move some clothes into his place, start planning vacations, and generally want their lives to revolve around each-other. Chris shook his head as if to physically shake off the thought. There was no reason to think about anything but right now. 

As Suzanne moved through the bar, every man she passed couldn't help but check out her paradoxically steamy yet friendly appearance. She was five-foot-seven, the perfect height to be tall and stunning without being too tall for most men. Her dark hair was bob cut, punctuated with streaks of artificial hilights. Her halter suggested the look of workout gear despite its flashy black and silver fabric. Yet few onlookers lingered long on those details. Their animal brains were focused on her toned size two frame, and how every inch of visible skin seemed to advertise what they suspected, that her body was even more perfect under her outfit than it was in it.

When Chris first met her, he had an altogether different reaction. To be summed up in a word, finally. Finally he had found a woman who excited him after his visit to that devious, fantastical, and mind-bending resort. More than six months ago Mark had dropped him off at the airport for what turned out to be a life changing experience. He could never have expected what was in store. Chris had spent less than a week there, yet Goddess Resort completely changed his life. It was improbable, impossible, hard to believe even when you've seen it fantasy. Women became living Goddesses towering twice his height. However, the place had an effect far more devious. The women there were so sensationally stunning, so chiseled to perfection, that normalcy didn't appeal to him anymore. Rather than the Chris that was always meeting up and hooking up, rather than the Chris whose standards were so high women didn't last a few months, he became a new Chris where women didn't last five minutes. 

He had tried to tell his buddy Mark all about it months ago. Even just trying to explain the scene, leaving out the unbelievable, didn't get through. Chris wasn't sure if it was so hard to believe, or if Mark simply couldn't let himself fall down the rabbit hole. Apparently his marriage was worth more than his enlightenment. After that, Chris gave up any thoughts of trying to explain the Rashja, tonyata, or sernasa, to Mark, or anyone. He felt disconnected, trapped in a bubble. Women just didn't measure up, yet nobody, not even his friend Mark, could understand. He lived in that bubble, treading water through life, wondering if he should revisit the resort, worried he might never want to come back, until he finally found Suzanne. She was as close to perfection as he'd seen, outside the resort. And that was before he even knew her. 

Still prowling towards them, Suzanne was twenty feet away when she felt had the sub-conscious attention of them both. She could tell from their body language. She noticed half the bar checking her out at one time or another, and she didn't mind, she was used to it. "Hey boys. Miss me?" Chris wasn't yet sure how she managed it. By day she was a somewhat mild-mannered and all too serious first-year lawyer at a litigation firm. By night, she flipped a switch and became the most sexy, flirty, and just likable young woman this side of a college campus shooting for Girls Gone Wild. Her routine seemed choreographed. The way she stalked across the room, outwardly flirting yet slinking up to Chris, announced she was everyone's to look at, but his tonight. 

Chris took a quick inventory of their libations. He and Mark were both finished with their beers, and Suzanne didn't yet have a drink, having slipped off to the bathroom right after arriving. Amid the loud clamor, his standing and waving towards the empty glasses was clearer than any words would have been that he was heading off for another round. Suzanne tucked in close and whispered her drink order, "vodka tonic," before slipping into his vacant seat. 

As Chris left, Mark looked over at Suzanne. Even the happily married man in him felt conflicted when her attention settled on him. "So Mark, I understand you're married. Any kids?" Her voice strained to make it over the background noise, Mark focusing all his attention to make out her meaning.

He practically yelled back a response, shaking his head, "No kids yet. Arieane is focused on her career, she's manages a small botique clothing maker. Someday though." The timing of Suzanne's body language was somehow off, causing him to wonder if she'd heard him at all. Chris and Mark had been leaning in and standing close as old college buddies would. He considered closing the gap, but it somehow seemed too familiar to do with the girl his friend was dating, minutes after meeting her, when he was married. Apparently she didn't have that same reservation, as she slid her chair around and leaned closer to him around the small two-top table. He instinctually repeated what she obviously hadn't heard. "No kids yet. My wife Arieane manages a botique clothing maker, she's career focused right now." 

"Does she like it?" Mark nodded a bit emphatically. Turns out she loves it. "I envy that, the independence of a small outfit. I don't know why I picked a big firm." Her sly smile wrinkled a little, bolstering her appearance of confidence. "I knew litigation was cutthroat. I can do cutthroat." She tucked in close to his ear, making to share something private. "However, it's a giant boy's club. One where you slave away making the boys at the top rich for years, hoping to get partner." Even as she retreated, her face coming back into view, her sweet smell had invaded him. He found himself stirring in ways he hadn't thought about since his dating days before Arieane. He pushed the feeling aside. 

"Stick at it, I'm sure you'll eat them alive." He didn't know much about law, but he was almost ten years older than her, and if he'd learned one thing in his career, it was that consistent ambition pays off. He had a sense she had more than her fair share. 

She was very close, but her body language showed distance. "I'm doing my best. My first couple months I think half of the boys planned to get me into the bedroom rather than the boardroom. I put my serious into high-gear, so far it seems to be working." She slipped her hand against her hair, gesturing that the short cut was part of her serious. Mark couldn't imagine a man that wouldn't want her in the bedroom, and all he could think about was how seriously hot she was. He imagined her in a courtroom, and wondered if that would give her an advantage with male jurors. She was reaching into her pocket, a moment later checking a message on her phone, explaining to be polite, "My girlfriends. Seems they are out making trouble." 

"Invite them by." He was just trying to be friendly, but something about her expression showed concern. As Chris returned, setting down drinks on the table, she tapped out a response. A moment later Chris had pulled another chair over and was sitting opposite Mark. 

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. These friends aren't good for," she paused, reaching for and sipping her drink before she finished, "marriages." Her phone was sitting on the table, and it lit up and buzzed again, her friend's obviously not letting up. She held the phone up for Chris to read as she spoke, "my friends really want to meet you." The phone message was a bit cryptc. PLZ! WNT 2 MT MR HOTNESS. "Maybe we can meet them for a drink after." Chris nodded as Mark and Suzanne dove back into a conversation mid-stream. He could hardly it hear anyhow. 

Dr. Foley reached the bottom of his spreadsheet, filled with numbers about Rashja plant yields, realizing he'd been so distracted he hadn't even read them. He was supposed to be checking on the relocated Rashja farm. They needed to increase yields by at least 70% to support their planned second location, Goddess Resort East. It wasn't an easy feat, as pollination and seeding of the plants had always proven harder than simply tending them. The seeds would grow easily enough, however, for some reason the Rashja production seemed to only randomly appear in offspring. The process of breeding seedlings to maturity, testing, and then segregating them, was not hard, but each batch took lots of time. To further complicate things, the more active plants they found, the less frequently new active plants seemed to occur. Sifting through the numbers was incredibly important, and would have been easier if not for Cheri working in the lab that day.

Cheri was at a lab desk, performing a chemical experiment. She had been working on it the whole week, after having finally waded through the backlog of data and analysis from the emergency protocol trigger she'd set off months ago. Setting off the trigger had been the right thing to do, but it cost the resort money, lots of it. The board wasn't happy. All the guests gassed to sleep in the nightclub had to be refunded most, if not all, their resort fees. It was the least the resort could do to prevent any of them from taking legal action for the unconventional safeguard. 

Dr. Foley's attention kept returning to watching her from across the room, and he knew why. She loomed over the lab table and dwarfed the bench with a six-foot-eight stature which was more distracting than impossible. Her labcoat hem, normally long enough to reach her knees, suggested the look of a skirt cut too short. Her wrists extended out of the sleeves, further reminding him of her state. However, it was the open front that was devouring his productivity. Underneath the coat she wore spandex workout gear that only just barely covered her. As she moved, the labcoat shfting repeatedly revealed an expanse of bare midriff, and peeks at ways her top was not sized sufficiently to contain her. She must have reached a breaking point in her experiment, as she scribbled something frantically in her notebook. He hardly had time to point his eyes back at his spreadsheet before she darted up, triumphantly heading over to him. 

"Simon. Dr. Foley. I've repeated the experiment three times, and each time the results are the same." He really tried to keep his eyes on her face, but with her movement drawing the labcoat away from her, he couldn't help it. She looked like a supermodel vollyball player who borrowed two-piece workout gear and a labcoat a couple sizes too small. It was impossible not to keep his eyes off her. The way the sports-top pressed too much of her athletic bust into the open neckline; the way her short-boy-shorts showed off how impossibly long both her legs, and torso were. "Doctor Foley?" When she reached him, he was momentarily dazed staring at her belly button against a tight and beautiful tummy. "Simon? You have to stop staring if you want us to get work done. You know what the Rashja does to me." 

When he met her eyes, he could see the playful flirty look already brewing in them. She wasn't trying to torture him. She already wanted to please him, and the Rashja made her wait it more. It made her hungry for him. Only the fact that she believed he wanted them working kept her from taking him right now. "This is your fault anyhow. You should have told me you were saturating," she said, as she drew her inadequate labcoat closed. 

It had happened last night. Their date had culminated in sex, and Simon had failed to warn her he was on Rashja. Was it an accident? If he was honest, it hadn't slipped his mind. He couldn't be with her, here in this place, without thinking about it. It was an accident that part of him begged to make happen. "Please continue. The results?" Did he even know what experiment she was working on?

"Yes yes. The decay rate studies for patron-113. I've been re-thawing and re-testing portions of his blood draws, and it's absolutely remarkable. Unlike most subjects, where the Rashja breaks down in their blood in hours or days, for some reason his levels appear to remain stable." The words triggered a memory of a conclusion he had made months ago. Was it in his notes? On his voice recorder? He couldn't remember, but the implication was obvious. Of course the Aztecs wouldn't have their technology. Of course they wouldn't be able to scientifically breed, systematically test, and hydroponically cultivate the Rashja plants. They would have had a tiny amount of the substance, far too little for constant doses. They hadn't used the plants to select men, and men to select Goddesses. Something in the men, something hidden in their DNA, made them the superior carriers of the Rashja. Only these few would carry the effects. Like patron-113. Once exposed, they would have the Rashja in them for years, maybe decades. She was still talking, but Dr. Foley was no longer listening. What did this mean?

Simon considered how it might begin, the concentration numbers flipping through his head as he considered it. If they only found one plant, or a handful, perhaps the individual concentrations would be very very low. The resort had pushed Rashja to it's extremes, transforming females into fifteen foot goddesses. However, if a man carried only a small amount the effects would be more subtle. Perhaps his partners would become merely fit, stronger, faster. They would be merely Amazons, not giant goddesses. Of course there were also the mental effects. They would want him, and they would serve him. Simon imagined a man in a tribe, akin to the lead male. Perhaps alpha males were not an accident. Perhaps it was brought on by the Rasha. One who held a high-concentration would have a harem of Rashja infused Amazons. No, not a harem, an army. Even with only small amounts they would be as strong or stronger then much larger men. Still, he thought of the pictographs, and the depictions of large Goddess forms. It must have happened then. The men, the carriers like patron-113, they wouldn't just be the alpha. They would be able to not only command the attention of women, but transform them into Goddesses. They would be kings among men. 

"Simon? Simon?" Cheri nudged his shoulder, startling him out of his deep thoughts. He had been staring across the lab at nothing. "You weren't even listening, were you?" Her labcoat was again hangling open, and with her standing towering over him, his eyes couldn't help but take her in. In that brief moment, an image flashed into his head. In a day before tanks, before guns, before ships, before technology, lucky men among the Aztecs had created and commanded something mystically powerful. 

"Cheri, not only was I listening, but I know exactly what it means." And he did. His hands danced against the keyboard, bringing up a picture of the ancient stones they had uncovered before turning it towards her. "Rashja Amazon warriors. That was the purpose of the hieroglyphs. To preserve the knowledge of how to create an army. An army to rule over men, but commanded by one man, the king, the Rashja carrier." Unlocking this piece of the puzzle was exciting. He no longer cared about checking and adjusting the farm yield conditions. Years of experience in the resort connected to his imagined Mayan history, and the realization that they had recreated the power of ancient kings was an aphrodesiac running through him. He lifted his hand up, placing it against Cheri's abdomen. He looked at her in a new way at that moment. He felt something more than the connection of love or lust. As much as she was his partner, she was something more. She was an Amazon of legend, a conjured protector. 

Looking at the digital representation of carved stone on the monitor, Cheri agreed with his conclusion. Then her mind quickly added another. They were slaves, slaves to the carrier. She didn't feel any emotional distaste at the thought, and wondered if it was genuine or if the Rashja inside her prevented it. She considered the other changes, the physical effects of the Rashja. They were truly gifts, perhaps 'slave' was too harsh a word. She looked down at Simon, his hand softly moving against her, and felt grateful. "I'm glad to be your warrior." She knew his desire for her, and she was glad for such a benevolent symbiosis. Her hands drew the labcoat out of his way, resting on her hips to hold it. She knew the Rashja bent her to his will, though not much more than her own body and emotions did. 

Simon's eyes opened wider as he looked up at her. Was she posing for him? Even still clothed, the way she pulled her labcoat away, exposing her midriff, seemed very suggestive. Her hands propped on her waist made an offering, a submissive yet powerful offering. Before he knew he meant to, he had swiveled his chair towards her. Still seated, her navel was at eye level. He placed his hands on her hips and pulled close, resting his lips low on her tummy. It was a self-reinforcing spiral. Her sexiness driving his attention, his attention driving her closer, her closeness driving his desire, his desire driving her will. He didn't realize he intended to kiss until his lips were softly puckered against her skin. 

Looking down at Simon repeatedly pushing his soft lips against her, she liked his attention almost as much as she liked that he liked it. She would have been content to let him kiss her forever, but she knew a few things he'd like more. She reached under his arms, gesturing him to stand. 

She didn't know it, but she lifted him right off his seat. It took him a moment to react and get his feet back on the ground. Standing, he craned his neck back to look up, and her plush lips filled his view as she spoke. "Tell me something Simon, and be honest." Her hands held them together, breasts bumping his shoulders. She wasn't tall enough to seem like a goddess yet, which somehow felt even more real. His heart beating faster from her proximity. "Was it an accident? Did you really forget what would happen last night?" He didn't have to think about it, but his mind flashed to the moment anyhow. No, it wasn't an accident, he had anticipated it. He shook his head. "I didn't think so. Some part of you wants this then? Your Amazon warrior in life, even here in the lab?" The fact that he couldn't see meet eyes made it easier to nod his head and admit the truth. "

His admission was all she, and the Rashja, needed. She moved around him, dropping the labcoat as she sat on his desk. They were now eye to eye, her having lost a few inches by sitting. She reached for his pants. She wasn't surprised at his excitement, as she knew it would be there. She brushed him a few times through the fabric before she leaned away. Gripping her spandex shorts at the waist, she tore them open like they were tissue paper. 

Her invitation was as exciting. He forced himself to pause for a moment, did he really want her bigger? In the lab? This was not about Goddess Resort, or a sexual fantasy, this was about his partner taking on the persona of his dreams. He looked down at her as she reached for her sports top, clearly planning to remove it as well. He reached out a hand to stop her. Ohh, he planned to make her bigger, he just liked the sexy way the top forced her breasts together. He pushed, gesturing her to recline. It took him longer than normal to remove his pants, distracted by the outrageous sight of her. 

He grabbed her legs as he slipped into her. The fact that they were still in the lab was only barely in his mind. After a few minutes of pumping, he must have hit her buttons right, as she went from a look of relaxed enjoyment to streams of pleasure. "Ohh Simon." Her head tossed in response to his motion, as if trying to prolong it. However, just a few more strokes and he could tell she had been set off from her crescendo, "Ohh my, ohh my. Yes." This time her climax set him off immediately. It lasted no more than a few seconds before his bucking motion lost composure and then came to a stop. 

As she finally reopened her eyes, her voice had lost all anxiousness, coming out incredibly slow and sultry. "Ohh yes. Simon. Yes." The telltale signs of her sernasa were obvious. Lines of muscle definition deeped against her stomach. Her arms and her frame swelled. She noticed it too as she hummed satisfaction, "mmmm." Her face receded, forced away by her stretching and undulating body. He watched the look of her chest bursting her sports top transition from sexy to obscene. The bottom of her breasts peaked out below the fabric, one inch, then two, then three. By the time her sernasa had finished, her top looked like it had impossibly shrunk. Except that it hadn't. 

When he finally regained his senses, she was staring down at him, patiently letting him admire her. As if a part of reality returning, he looked around the lab, registering where he was. His face immediately showing a confused mixture of shock, reality, and obligation. Had he really just done this in the lab? Her words did not at all match the look of her still laid out in front of him. "Should we get back to work then?" It was like a splash of cold water. He awkwardly shuffled his feet away from her as she motioned to stand, then pulled his pants up off the floor. Standing straight again, her seven-foot-eight frame towered over him, and he found himself looking across at the bare exposed bottom of her breasts. The labcoat was dangling from her fingertips, looking childishly small next to her. "I'm afraid your Amazon warrior won't be wearing standard lab atire today." She laid it back down on the desk, before sitting in his lab chair. She looked impossibly sexy, dwarfing the chair, and just barely eye-to-eye with him now. "Now. How about I help you review those farm figures?" 

Her offer seemed incongruent with her being more than half-naked in front of him, but he really did need to get that work done. "That would be excellent." He met her outstretched hand, and before he knew it she had seated him on her thigh and swiveled him towards the computer. He looked at the spreadsheet again, trying desperately to focus more on the computer than the way her body wrapped around him. "You see, here, the yield numbers for last batch were below expected parameters. I need to..." He could feel and hear her breathing as her chest rose and fell. A glance to the side caught her barely covered breasts hovering above his shoulder, her head far above that. It took all his will to refocus on the screen and the task. "I need to find the source of the falloff." She reached around him to operate the computer, flipping through the spreadsheet herself. This was going to be a very interesting work day.

"Alright, alright, you can spare me all the nitty gritty details." Wendel had just cut off his lead scientist mid-presentation. They had spent months working with the frozen Rashja plant, determining how to safetly revive it, and months more figuring out how to pollinate it. Despite habitually expressing his non-impressed attitude, he was quite pleased. They had four active plants, that all seemed to be staying alive. "Do you have a test sample yet?" The lead scientist looked to others in the room, as if in shock that Wendel didn't want to hear the rest of a presentation that they obviously had spent days, even weeks, preparing. 

"Yes, only a small sample." He nodded to one of his teammates, who produced a silver metal box for their superior. Wendel took the box, opening it to understand it's contents. It contained a test-tube only barely filled with a pinkish liquid. "We have not done any scientific analysis on the sample, other than to verify it seems to be unsurprising organic plant matter." Wendel wasn't listening. He had stood up and was almost at the door. The scientist was looking around at others in the room, surprised at how to react. "Mr. Varden?" 

Wendel walked with purpose through the halls of his high-tech lab. He'd spared no expense to prepare it for the day he would finally get his hands on the Rashja plant, and he felt a sense of pride and accomplishment that it was finally in use. He reached the central elevator, punching himself to his private executive floor before letting himself feel even a shred of excitement that he'd finally be able to test the Rashja. Opening the box, without any hesitation he uncapped and swallowed the liquid. 

The elevator made a few of it's typical sounds before finally opening. His executive assistant was sitting at her desk as always. Poised to jump at his any need whenever he was in the office. "Judy, are the test subjects here and ready?" He was looking at her, but still heading full-stride for the double-doors of his office. 

"Yes sir." She stood, prepared to follow him if it seemed like he expected it. Most of her friends were shocked at how ridiculously well paid she was to sit at a desk and only occasionally do any real work. To Wendel, however, money was no object. To him, she had a chemistry degree from Princeton, was the only of the six assistants he started with who always delivered, and of course, was stunningly beautiful. "Shall I send one in?" Wendel also liked that she didn't second guess him, and didn't ask questions. Such as when he asked her to find three truly beautiful women high-class sex-professionals. If she had a prim and proper morale compass, she didn't show it. For all she knew, he was just asking her to hire him high-class hookers for pleasure. Which, he realized, wouldn't at all be his strangest request.

"Not yet. In an hour please." He pushed through the doors to his office, if you could call it an office. It was more than fifteen-hundred square-feet, with couches, a wet-bar, numerous pieces of art, twelve foot ceilings, and floor-to-ceiling glass windows on two sides. Ohh, and it was built such that the freight elevator opened onto the far wall. Wendel had planned for everything. His building overlooked Los Angeles, and off in the distance he could see the Hollywood sigh propped up against the hills. Finally reaching the far side, he dropped his suitcoat on a small chair and sat down behind a modern interpretation of the giant oak desk, trimmed in platinum and black leather. He started off into space, his mind awash with dreams as the time ticked by.

Wendel had been sitting at his desk for promptly an hour when a woman entered through the double doors. "Please, please." Wendel held his hand up and motioned her in from far across the room. 

Her long walk across the office gave him a chance to get a good look at her. As he expected, Judy had delivered as always. She was stunning. About five-foot-eight, dark hair, fitness petite in a way only two types of LA girls were, models and escorts. However, on specific instructions, she was silicone free, having a hot yet unenhanced profile. She wore a black cocktail dress that was classy enough for a dinner date, but not so sharp it would look out of place as a hipster bar. Wendel gestured to a chair opposite him, but she ignored it, provocatively passing inches from him before scooting herself onto his desk. "Hello Mr. Varden, I'm Kat." She held her hand out, and upon reciprocating her handshake, she placed his hand against her leg and began petting it suggestively. Wendel wasn't easily led, but he liked it, and made no attempt to break her approach.

"Hello Kat. You're here for something more than a typical engagement. An interview of sorts. I understand you're available for travel and extended companionship." It was a rhetorical question, her hand still calmly stroking his. "You also need to be comfortable with fluid transfer. I trust Judy has provided you with medical reports to satisfy any concerns." At the price he was paying, she'd follow him around and fuck his whole staff unprotected if he asked her to.

"She has. Would you like me to start now? So you can evaluate how good I am at..fluid transfer?" He looked to his watch, it had been well over an hour since he took the Rashja. He wasn't sure how long it would take to saturate his system, but that was part of what he wanted to find out. However, there was something he needed to do first. He stood, leading her towards a measuring tape stretched against the wall. 

"Before we begin. Please remove your shoes." She did, and he gestured her up against the wall, making a mental note that she stood five-foot-seven even against the tape. Her hands were already on him, touching and flirting. The way her eyes looked through him made it seem as if she somehow already knew him. Even in just a few moments, he found her attention somewhat bewildering. 

"Would you like this dress off too? Could you help me with this zipper?" She turned, and as his hands reached for the zipper, she spread her hands and legs suggestively. She removed her hands from the wall, allowing the dress to fall down in front of her, leaving her clad in a sexy black lace bra and panties. Turning around, her body was stunning, and her hands were against him. One on his cheek, the other pressing up into his crotch. She drew him in for a kiss, and he lost the battle with his better judgment as she taught him how good a kiss could be. Her every motion, every move excuded sexiness. He forced himself to remember she was a professional to keep from losing himself to it. He lead her back over to the desk, kicking his shoes off, dropping his pants to the floor, and sitting into his chair. A moment later, she was kneeling, fondling him and leaning in to lick at him. 

She made no hurry of it. Letting him enjoy the sight of her as she slowly progressed from teasing, to licking, to taking him fully in her mouth. Eventually she was thrusting her mouth down against him, her hands touching his legs and chest in a way that heightened the experience. Wendel enjoyed the experience, as much as he could enjoy it with his mind racing about the Rashja. It was all he could think about. His dream, the power of the Rashja, was more intoxicating than any woman, any blowjob. He let himself go into her in a release that would have rocked him if he had been able to focus on it. Kat sat back, a sly satisfied look on her face as she swallowed his come and stood, kneeling her body in close to him. "Do you want to fuck me, or should I just get you ready for some more fluid transfer?" 

Wendel stood, gesturing her onto his desk, trying to maintain the sexy mood despite his alternate agenda. "Right now Kat, I'd like you to watch." He reached over, pressing the intercom button to Judy out in the other room. "Please send another in." If Kat was surprised at his response, she didn't let on. She just slinked back on the desk, and began rubbing herself through her panties, staring up at Wendel in a way that made it hard for him to do anything but watch her. She didn't turn or skip a beat when the door far across the room opened. 

Behind Kat and her sexy show, Wendel could see a stunning redhead entering, the waves of her hair spreading it out into a sexy mane. Halfway across the room, she was already unbuttoning her blouse, no doubt responding to the half naked girl on his desk. As she reached them, Wendel finally tore his eyes away from Kat's show to really see her. She was a bit taller and bustier than Kat, now already in only a bra and miniskirt. Wendel approached, intending to bring her to the measurement tape. Noticing she was already taller than him in her heels. She interrupted him with a sensous kiss. Her hands finding their way to fondle his recently spent appendage. His mind blanked at the sensations, enjoying the moment. When lips parted, she introduced herself. "Hello Mr. Varden." Her hands were still on his cock, playfully squeezing it. "I'm Sarah."

"Hello Sarah. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to quickly measure your height before we begin. Would you please remove your shoes?" She did show a brief look of curiosity, before bending and slipping her heels off. He led her to the wall, and she kept up her flirtations, shimmying out of her skirt as he checked the tape. Her hands returning to fondle him as soon as they could. He made a note of her height at five-foot-ten, only an inch shorter than him, before leading her towards the desk. "Sarah, this is Kat. She's just going to watch us for now." 

Wendel pulled at Sarah's panties, and they were quickly removed. Her body was stunning, even moreso than Kat's. Both of them impossibly trim while still fit, as if not a shred of typical fat were allowed within. Except of course, for Sarah's creamy breasts. Still in their lace bra, they were full and perfect. He would have suspected them not to be real if he didn't completely trust his assistant to follow his instructions. She encouragd him as he caressed one, sitting back on the desk and pulling his face against her skin. A moment later he felt her bra slip away, her breasts firm enough to deny much change in shape. Her legs straddled around him, pulling him in as he suckled at her, his body already responding. As soon as his lips broke free, she slipped him inside her. He glanced momentarily at Kat, who was in her own world fingering herself, her panties gone somewhere out of view. 

His attention back on Sarah, he thrust repeatedly, watching her gorgeous body on display. He put his hand against her firm abs as he kept his rhythm, working his way up her body. As he again cupped her breast, her face projected a sexy stare that was more an expression of dominance than of pleasure. Still it worked, as he felt himself nearing the goal, surprisingly quickly after his previous climax. She shifted the angle of her pelvis a few times, and before he knew he was ready, he shot into her, his mind finally returning from wherever it was. 

A moment later, Sarah's face dramatically changed. Part surprise, part euphoria, she let out a moan, "aunnnh. Fuck. Yes." Her hand came down to her sex, frantically rubbing it in obvious response to something she was feeling. A midst the sexy scene of two stunningly beautiful call girls fingering their clits, he almost missed the impossible moment he had been testing for. It started as just an eerie sensation, like something was happening he couldn't process. Sarah's body seemed to shift, like a zoom lens shifting perspective, yet the scene around her remained the same. "Auhhh," she moaned as it progressed. He could see her frame swelling, her body lengthening, the tight flat muscles in her body showing slightly more definition. Meanwhile her head was cocked back, and her hand even more frantically vibrating against her crotch. A few seconds later, her hand slowed, then stopped, and her mind returned from wherever it was. "I have never.." She didn't complete the thought. 

Despite the impossibly sexy scene, Wendel's mind was somewhere else. The Rashja had worked! After all these years, searching, being crossed by the research team, his devious plan to finally get ahold of a plant. The months of work by his lab team. It had actually worked! His mind was finally consumed with excitement. He didn't explain himself at all as he rushed to put data behind what he already knew. "Please, we must measure you." He gestured at her hand and pulled at her, finding much more resistance than he expected. Her face filled with a look of awkward surprise as she stood off the desk. The dramatic change was already visible as she stood almost a foot taller than Wendel. She stepped up to the tape, and he struggled to read the six-foot-nine result above her head. 

"What is happening here. Am I drugged?" She looked about for a moment before patting the top of Wendel's head in disbelief. Shocked that it was below her shoulder blades. He was hardly paying attention. All he could think about was the Rashja. Why had only Sarah changed? He knew the resort was based on oral-sex, so certainly it should have some effect, but clearly the effect on Sarah was much greater. While his scientific mind pondered, his animal brain stared at breasts held up almost to eye level by her expanded frame. It was an unusual feeling looking up to meet her eyes.

"Don't be alarmed. You are the first to experience an amazing new transformation here in my lab. Everything will be explained in due time. Do you feel alright?" As he waited for a response, he started to realize how much her beauty was amplified and expanded. He had the urge to kiss her, but he realized he couldn't reach if he wanted to. They were both startled by a cry from behind him. Sarah's eyes stared over his head with a look of concern.

Turning to look, Kat was curled up against herself on the desk, looking and sounding in pain. Just a few steps and he was near her, watching for any telltale signs of the Rashja's effects, but if they were there, he couldn't see them. Her body was completely tensed, hardly breathing. Several seconds later he saw it relax, and he set a hand on her arm. "Kat? How do you feel?" 

She uncurled with a surprisingly happy look as she slid off the desk. "Wow. I don't know what that was, but now I feel fantastic." He immediately noticed she was taller, standing eye-to-eye with him. He found it fascinating. Why had one grown so much and the other so little? Was it the time difference, or perhaps method of delivery? If it was the method, why would the resort be based on oral sex if it had such diminished effects? He took her hand, leading her towards the measuring tape. He felt her resist and turned to see her staring up at Sarah, "whoa, I've never seen anyone so tall." Wendel led her the rest of the way to the wall, quickly confirming his suspicion. Kat was now five-foot-ten, three inches taller than earlier.

Kat glanced at the measuring tape, and then at Sarah, and then back at the measuring tape. She was looking the five-foot-seven measurement in the eye. Knowing she was only five-foot-seven herself, it should have been over her head. Clearly the measuring tape was setup wrong. Now that she noticed, her client seemed kind of short, possibly shorter than her. She guessed the other girl must be six-foot-three at least. She started to put the pieces together. The measuring, the tall girl. This must be the guy's kink. She decided to improvise. She started right through him, "well, it's my turn now little man." She walked and pushed him the few steps until he was pinned against the desk, sinking her lips into his. 

Wendel was a little taken off-guard. His mind was still racing about the Rashja, reorienting to the new world he had hoped would come but somehow still wasn't prepared for. Before he knew it, Kat had pinned him hard against his desk and was treating him to an intoxicatingly passionate kiss. What did she say? It was her turn? Did she realize what was happening? She was only in her bra, and the pressure of her near naked body held him captive. When the kiss parted, she put her hand to his chest and pushed him to lay back on the desk. It turned into more of a violent shove. He found himself on his butt, sliding a few inches, awkwardly falling back. If Kat was surprised, she didn't seem it, as she turned over her shoulder towards Sarah. "Hey wonder woman, come hold him down for me." Then she was staring back at Wendel again. "I watched. You think I didn't see what you did to her? You think I didn't see how much she liked it?"

Before he knew it Sarah was aside him, and he was stunned at her appearance. Her hand pressing him down and sliding him against the desk, the force much firmed than it should have been. Kat had climed atop the desk and was straddling him now. Grabbing his wrists, she lifted them to Sarah, who held them with an uncomfortable amount of force.He looked up to see her body posed over him, looking down with a sexy and devious smile. His attention was pulled back by Kat's anctics as she started not-so-dry humping him. "Yeah, you like this don't you." Her arms were on his chest as she slid her wetness against him. "Two tall sexy girls having their way with you. I'm going to fuck you so good. Mmmm." The amazing amount of overstimulation had him already stiffening, her motions plugging his mind with the sex that was soon to occur. She didn't have to keep it up for long before they both could tell he was plenty hard enough. She reached down, and made a show of slowly slipping him into her. With the physical and visual sensations the two stunning women were creating, he didn't have time to think. 

Kat began slowly, drawing herself up and down on him, inching the pace a little faster each stroke. "MMmmm." This was her thing, she knew how to make men cry out and beg for more. She went easy at first, as she could tell he wasn't quite hard enough yet. She stared down at him, making eye contact whenever he wasn't distracted looking at her body. When he was, she drew her hands to touch herself. She could feel him more now. Most men couldn't handle more than a few minutes of what she was about to do, but the fact that he had already come two times gave him a better chance of holding out to enjoy it. "Mmmm. Now you're really ready for me." She bounced on him for a few harder thrusts, then she gyrated her hips on him, trying to feel him inside her. Not quiet. Bounce thrust, bounce thrust. Hips. She felt him for a moment, then lost him. Another round, bounce thrust, bounce thrust. Hips. There he was, she could feel him dragging up inside her, and from the instant widening of his eyes, she knew she had him. "Aww. You like that do you?" She kept her hips going, just teasing the head of his cock inside her. "Mmmm." Bounce thrust, Bounce thrust. Hips. Again teasing him inside her, she tried to get her clit rubbing against him at the same time. She couldn't always do it, but when she could, it was a nice bonus. 

Wendel's attention was fractured into pieces. Held captive by the two women, Kat was doing something to him he'd never experienced. Her teasing gyration was driving him crazy. She punctuated it by only occasional thrusts. When he heard himself involuntarily whimper, he wasn't sure if he wanted her never to stop, or to just give him a couple more thrusts to get him there. His mind was lost when the dark shadow of Sarah loomed down over him and her lips planted against his. When she stood up again, she forced his hands against her, sliding up against her torso. Then came Kat's thrusts, and his involuntarily response "Uhhn, Uhnn, Uhnn." Sarah rubbed his hands against her breasts, and he felt them for the first time since she'd grown. The sensation was unexpected, as they felt much larger than they appeared on her trim athletic frame. His eyes rolled in their sockets at another set of thrusts. This time coming quicker. Then a moment later another set, and another. Kat was clearly upping the pace, and it didn't take much, another set and he shot into her moaning out his release. 

She stared down at his blissful exhaustion, satisfied she had performed like the expert she was. "What's next little man? I think it might be time to put you up against that measuring tape." She was just about to climb off him when she felt it. It was like a dull burn inside her, only immensely pleasurable. This time her eyes went wide as she stared down at Wendel. "Ohh wow." Her body unable to resist adding a little grinding motion in response to the pleasure. She felt it filling her, like a climax with no punch. It just kept building, and building. She slipped her arms to the desk beside him as she moaned, "ohhhhhmyyyyohhh". Then something even stranger happened. The world seemed to shift around her. It was disorienting, and combined with the pleasure, she grapped with her fingers as if trying to hold onto something. It continued for several seconds, perspectives shifting around her, until finally the waves of pleasure stopped. When her mind grabbed ahold again, Wendel felt somehow smaller, less substantial, below her. She looked at him curiously before realizing she'd somehow put her fingertips right through the top of his desk. She lifted her hands, wondering why anyone would have a desk so flimsy. She hadn't even noticed that her bra was now gone. She hadn't even felt it tear off. 

Wendel was looking up at her with a satisfied smile. Whatever pleasure he had experienced was dwarfed by the immense power of the Rashja demonstrated before him. "Kat. Please go measure yourself." Without any hesitation, she crawled down off him. Sliding off the desk himself, he reached for Sarah's hand, leading her over to the wall where Kat stood looking at the measure. Kat was looking at the tape with disbelief. Her look turned to shock when turned toward them. She was at least a few inches taller than Sarah now, and the way she stood more than a foot taller than Wendel was impossible not to acknowledge. 

"What?" Her words were stuttered and separated. "It says I'm seven-feet-tall. Can that be right? What happened?" Wendel marveled at her before answering. The process retained, even enhanced, her stunning beauty. Only now she was inhumanly sized. Her breasts staring him in the face. Her shoulders cresting above his head. Her hand raised, and came to rest on his shoulder, touching his neck as if to somehow verify this all was real.

The three of them naked made an unusual sight for the monologue Wendel had imagined giving all his life. "Please don't be alarmed. Kat, you and Sarah have just taken part of an ancient tradition. It is a ritual of the Aztecs. A ritual that was lost for centuries. Amazon warriors are not myth and legend. They existed, and now you see how. We call it the Rashja, and I have given it to you. Already you have grown substantially, and you are much stronger than you realize. You saw how easily your fingers went through solid oak." Kat's eyes looked to the desk as if to investigate his claim. "You are also bound to me." One of the benefits of Wendel's spies within the Goddess Resort was his now extensive knowledge of the Rashja effects. He knew the mystical compulsion would not only cause them to trust his explanation, but obey his every desire. However, he was still surprised he had never heard about such dramatic growth from vaginal-delivery. Surely they knew of it. "All of this will last only for a time. However, soon we will have enough Rashja that if you choose, you may stay a Goddess, serving me as your ancient king." 

Sarah spoke up, "incredible." She was reaching and flexing her hands in front of herself. "Just incredible." She stepped towards the measuring tape, Kat stepping out of her way in the process. She stared at it as if it would help her believe she was really six-foot-nine. Kat seemed to gain some confirmation from seeing herself now taller than Sarah, and she immediately looked hungrily down at Wendel. The two of them looked stunning. Sarah facing away as she pondered the measuring tape, and Kat looking down at him wearing a devious smile. Sarah spoke still facing the wall. "So what now?" 

As if triggered on que, Kat took a step towards Wendel. Her boobs hung inches from his face before she reached under his arms and lifted him up. Her stance suggested she expected him to be heavier, and she let out a sound of surprise as he easily left the floor. "Oooh. I'm so strong now." She easily held him up, his body bumping against her chest, her lips briefly dragging across his face in a sexy tease. "I could get used to this, but this little interview of yours is just getting started." She drew her tongue along his cheek, licking him in a suggestive motion. Wendel's grand plans of world domination and his Rashja army were temporarily gone from his mind.

Chris was on his way to a dive-bar he couldn't remember ever visiting. The taxi bounced along the rough city streets his thoughts drifting. Suzanne had invited him out to meet her friends, the ones that were always texting. Meeting a girl's friends was always a slippery slope down into a serious relationship, so it gave him pause. Was he ready for this? Did he want to get more serious with her? 

Sure, she was outrageously hot, and frisky, and a successful lawyer. However, all those qualities came with downsides. Every time he met her out, some guy was coming onto her, and she didn't exactly turn them away. If it wasn't some lawyer from her office pretending to talk about work, it would be some random guy with a made-up story about the new movie he was filming or his budding NFL career. They were like moths, and she was the flame. Chris had come to see this as the hot girl's evil dark-side. Dating the hot number everyone stared at meant everyone was always staring at her, and talking her up, and hitting on her. Guys just never left her alone. She played her part well too, always flirting back with just enough sass to make them think she'd be a hot number in bed, and she was. 

A part of him snapped at what seemed like creating fictional faults. Really? Now she's flawed because she's too hot? How long had they been dating? Hardly more than a month. Perhaps the schedule on his three-month curse was accelerating. Perhaps he was just looking for something to be wrong, like he always did, like he always would. 

The cabby rolled up to his stop. Chris flipped some bills over the divider and stepped out onto the curb, slamming the door behind him. Looking at the front of the bar, it looked like more of a dive than he even thought it would. A wooden storefront with beaten up flat-black painted slats and a nondescript door. The bouncer didn't ask for, or look at, his ID as he held it out. He seemed to merely size him up, like he was trying to decide if he was the right kind of scum to let into the place. Without a word, he stepped aside. 

Chris passed through the door and a velvet curtain. When his eyes adjusted to the dark scene inside, he could see he had been completely mis-informed. Inside a building that looked like it might be condemned as a fire hazard before he could get a drink order in, was housed an incredibly hip and modern looking club, packed wall to wall with shockingly attractive patrons. The booths were black velvet tinged with chrome; the bar a black-chrome mirror tinged with bottles and opaque white lighted strips. And the people. It wasn't just the girls that were attractive. He felt like he had just jumped down the rabbit hole and landed in the backlot lounge on a hollywood studio set. He crawled his way through the crowd feeling slightly out of place, glad he'd worn his most hip threads. He wondered if he still stuck out like a sore thumb. Not yet halfway through the space, he saw Suzanne talking amongst a small group that seemed to fit right in with the crowd's casting-call vibe. He headed their way.

As he approached, he got a better look at something he wouldn't have believed was possible. The other two girls with Suzanne, presumably the friends she wanted him to meet, were a category more stunning than she was! One of them was had tossed brown-hair, and was wearing a scantalously deep-cut black dress that showed off the kind of firm and oversize cleavage that was only available on the far side of an expensive scalpel, and a skirt short enough to show off how much she dressed for attention. While he couldn't get as good a look at the blond, her dress hugged her so tightly there was obviously nothing to hide. Suzanne hadn't seen him yet, as her back was turned, and as usual, she was busy talking to a moth. He was just about to get her attention, when the stacked girl with medium-brown hair stepped in his path and greeted him. "Hey handome. You must be Chris. I'm Drew, and I've been dying to meet you." 

What had started as his instinctual once-over, turned into surprise and then staring as he took her in. She was both shorter and more petite than Suzanne, her small frame making it even more obvious just how enhanced her her monstrous endowments were. It wasn't until his eyes returned to hers that he realized she was just standing there watching him take her in. Satisfied he was finished, she resumed, "Suz has told us so much about you." Chris' eyes darted to Suzanne. She and the other girl were engaged in a conversation with two guys, who were both unreasonably attractive. "Ohh, don't mind them. They came over to hit on Allison. She'll send them away in a minute." Drew moved up very close, dangerously close, "right now I want to hear more about you. I heard you once went on a photoshoot with Gem Akinson. Tell me what it was like!"

He also got the sense that Suzanne's girlfriends knew much more about him than he knew about them. He was also flattered at the interest. "Ohh yes. She was selected for a magazine campaign my firm placed. I was over-seeing the campaign, so I needed to make sure they placed her in the shot correctly, created the right image. I hadn't realized how much work goes into it really. The shoot was more than four hours long, and that didn't count the two hours of prep before, and two-hours of teardown after. I was exhausted just watching." 

Drew gently touched his hip. The kind of small flirty touch you might expect from a girl you were chatting up in a bar, a girl who hoped to go home with you, or a girl who wanted to steal you for herself -- not the friend of your girlfriend. "Be honest. Was she outrageously hot in person?" She inched closer. Chris felt the gravity-like distraction of her chest as she moved and talked. For a moment he struggled to remember the question, then nodded. Gem Atkinson was far from his mind when he wondered if he'd ever met anyone that exuded sex as much as the girl in front of him. Drew moved even closer, gesturing to whisper to him, her protruding chest nudging him in the process. "Tell me, did you fantasize about her?" If he had a drink, at this moment he would have been spitting it out in shock. This was a friend of his girlfriend was it not? He thought to motion away in shock, but she now had a tiger grip on his arm. "I bet you did huh? I know I would. Though if she was here, I wouldn't know whether to stare at her or fuck her." 

As Drew leaned away, her gorgeous face seemed somehow incapable of the crass and forward flirtation and disclosure that had just occured. He had only known her a few moments, and he felt sure of only one thing. He had have no idea what to expect from her next. Once he was done taking in the shock, he noticed Suzanne and Allison were now alone and watching the whispered exchange. He reached out to squeeze his girlfriend to save him from Drew's next unpredictable move. He immediately noticed she was already a bit drunk. 

"Hey sweetie, so glad you could join us." Pulling away, Suzanne's eyes sparkled at him in a private moment of connection before she introduced her friends. "Chris, you've already met Drew. This is Allison." Allison was blond, stunning, and more normally proportioned, at least standing next to Drew. "Can I twist your arm to go get us another round of drinks?" He was more than ready for a drink, and gladly took their orders before excusing himself towards the bar. 

Drew spoke up first, "Suz, he's so delicious. Please tell me you're going to bring me home tonight." Suzanne just laughed and shook her head. She recognized Drew's special flavor of overly-racy compliment, hiding her true-desire in plain sight. "Aww. Sometime soon then? I miss you too you know. Life's so boring as just work work work." 

Even as she stayed friends with them, Suzanne felt the burden of having left their world for another. "Come on, I don't want to ruin the guy. I like him. Let me get through confessing his lawyer girlfriend is an ex-stripper before you encourage me to turn him into a sex addict." She looked over towards the bar, hoping Chris would take to the details with his usual unflappable nature. So far he'd seemed unphased by pretty much every twist she'd tried to throw at him. Stories of her younger days experimenting with drugs, hints at sexual promiscuity, even her unjealous curiosity at his occasional eyeing a striking woman nearby. She thought there was a good chance he wouldn't bat an eye at this one either, and if they kept dating, he'd need to find out sooner or later. 

Allison interjected, "you don't have to tell him you know. Your past is your past, your own. It's private." Each time Suz wanted to break it to a boyfriend, she never failed to express her thoughts on the topic. Of course they came from her own personal plan. She was confident one day she'd meet the man of her dreams, the man that would satisfy her mind and body enough to let go of a lifetstyle she saw as indulgant and risky, yet strangely intoxicating. When she did, she had every intention of using her expert sexual skills to seduce him, and no intention of telling him where they came from. 

Chris was back to them already, drinks in hand for each. While passing them out, he spilled some of Drew's over his hand and onto the bartop. After taking the glass, Drew took his wrist as well, pulling it towads her. Before he knew what was happening, she slowly and deliberately licked his hand clean of the spill in a move that was incredibly sexual. Suzanne, for whatever she thought of it, didn't bat an eye. The whole exchange made Chris uncomfortable, so he swiftly moved past it. "So, how do you girls all know each other?"

Wendel was seated at his chair behind his new black-anodized steel executive desk, and Derek, the head of his lab, sat across from him. The previous oak desk had been inadvertently ruined by his first test of the Rashja. Since then, the lab had made steady progress, and was supplying a small steady amount of the substance each day. He was pleased, but they had so much further to go to achieve his plan. The demonstration he had planned was intended as a motivator, though he hoped it might also be a bit of a reward. Despite working on his project for years, Derek still didn't know what the substance was for. Nobody in his organization did.

"Derek. I want to thank you. It's been years in the making, and you've been my loyal right-hand man this entire time." Wendel instinctively stood from his chair, preferring to deliver his monologues standing and in motion. "There is still much to be done, but I couldn't be happier with your recent progress. Of course I've arranged for a substantial bonus for you and your team." He slipped a piece of paper summarizing the two-million-dollars he'd distributed to the team-members, and Derek's eyes bugged wide at the figures. 

"Sir. Thank you. We all appreciate your generosity. In truth it's been challenging and rewarding work. Everyone is very..." Wendel held up his hand to cut Derek off mid-sentence.

"Please, please. No need for gratitude. It is I who need to thank all of you." He walked over and stared out the window. "For decades now I've held a dream. A dream of recreating a piece of time's past. A dream of unlocking a great mystery." He turned to face Derek. "You and your team are helping realize that dream. Few in the organization know it's purpose. It has been an unfortunate, but necessary burden. However, I'd like to share a piece of it with you now. I'd like to show you the purpose of the Rashja. Of course it must be held in the utmost of secrecy, something I know you will do. Would you like to see it?" 

It wasn't the first time Derek had been told to keep information tightly held, and he knew Wendel. This was no casual request. Disclosing company secrets did not come with a slap on the wrist and the loss of a job. No, Wendel was a man of amazing means, and he would use every method necessary, some legal, some illegal, to punish anyone who broke his need for secrecy. Derek had watched more than a couple of the lab's employees disappear into obscurity after Wendel found them sharing information that seemed completely unimportant. Perhaps as merely a test. He knew how serious the responsibility was as he nodded his head. 

"Excellent." Wendel lit up with a smile and seemed to almost glow. "I'm so glad to have someone to share this with. What you are about to see may come as a bit of a shock. The plant you have been working with is an ancient secret of the Aztecs. Centuries ago, as their rulers rose and fell, their society revolved around the substance we call Rashja. We don't yet know how or why, but somehow it's a key to a hidden fantastical, almost mythical power. Let me ask you, Derek. Have you heard of Amazon Warriors?"

Derek was caught off-guard. What could this possibly have to do with horticulture and plant biotics? "History and anthropology is not my area of expertise. As far as I know, they are mentioned in elements of Greek Myth and Legend. Great Amazon Warriors, always female, were present in many battles. They are given prominant interactions with the Greek Gods, and some refer to Queen Adromache. The source of the Myths are unknown, perhaps an attempt to remind us of the inner strength of the female will." Derek surprised himself at how much he remembered from his university studies. 

"What if I was to tell you they were not myths? What if I was to tell you that in a time before time, Amazon warriors walked the earth, swaying battles, inspiring worship, possibly even inspiring stores about the Gods themselves?" Derek looked doubtfully puzzled, unsure how to respond. Wendel was walking away towards the double doors fifty-feet away at the far end of the room. "However impossible it seems, you will believe it when you see it for yourself." His voice almost shouting to cover the distance. 

Derek watched him pause at the doors, expectation hanging in the air, but of what? He knew Wendel as a man of science. A wealthy and eccentric benefactor, but one of science none-the-less. This theatrical discussion of myth and legend seemed strangely out of character, and Derek didn't know what to make of it. Wendel turned the door nobs, pulling both doors open. It was darker near the far end of the room, and the darkness partially obscured two tall shapes stepping through the doors, only tall was an understatement. They each appeared to tower several feet taller than Wendel! Even across the room, Derek could see they were both stunningly beautiful women, dressed in modern looking two-piece outfits that vaguely resembled work-out gear. More coverage than bathing-suits yet less than anything he'd call clothing. His animal brain found them attractive before it returned to shock at their impossible heights. 

Wendel took each of their hands, and began to walk them across the long room. "Derek, these are my first two modern Amazon Warriors. Though I find that term a bit too aggressive. I think perhaps Amazon Protectors would be better for public relations. Soon, when your team has perfected the Rashja extraction, we will grow their ranks to dozens, then hundreds." The threesome was still walking towards Derek. Each step brought the reality of the situation towards him. What seemed like an impossible and ridiculous bit of theatrics was becoming bone-grippingly real. As he watched their oversize forms approach, he wondered if he was really feeling their steps through the floor, or if it was simply a mental manifestation of what he was seeing.

"The world's bureaucratic governments have become corrupt and stagnant. The world is at the edge of political and financial meltdown." The two Amazons took large slow steps as they kept pace with Wendel. As Derek's shock began to fade, his mind let him perceive them as individuals. One of the women had striking dark black hair, while the other was a very busty redhead. Both of them were shockingly beautiful. Derek was still seated when they reached him, still stunned as Wendel wrapped up their grandiose entrance. "The Amazons can be not only a symbol, but a stabilizing force. Ending conflict, and inspiring unity, as they once did for the Greeks." 

There were not simply taller than Wendel, they were bigger, massive. Their hips flairing at Wendel's chest height seemed wider than his shoulders. Even their halter tops were above Wendel's head, their shoulders and faces towering even higher. How tall were they? Eight-feet? Taller? The women were like statues. Living moving, huge statues. With them standing so close, he found it hard to focus on Wendel's words. "However, today we don't need to concern ourselves with the world of men. Today we enjoy the company of Gods. Derek, meet Kat and Sarah. Amazons, meet Derek." 

With that, the redhead began to kneel in front of Derek. From Wendel's gestures this was Sarah. Her form descending towards him made him even more aware of her proportions. Even at normal size Derek would have considered her stacked. At this impossible size, her breasts were simply massive. Even when she finally came to rest on her knees, Derek still felt her presence towering over him, though now much closer. Her voice took him off-guard, as if he still didn't believe she was real. "Hello Derek. I understand that I have you to thank for this amazing gift." He felt unease as one of her large hands gently fell on the arm of his chair. She offered the other palm-up infront of him, as if to set him at ease. It didn't. 

Derek's mind raced, only able to get out some jumbled words of confusion. "But how? What is this?" Seeing Sarah this close was shaking the very ground upon which his reality was based. He timidly reached up to grasp her hand, his mind struggling to believe what he was seeing. 

Wendel responded, "Derek. Derek. All will be answered in due time." As his mind reeled, Kat, the dark haired Amazon, also knelt beside his chair. Their oversize forms in such close proximity created an innate sense of danger, of being trapped. However, as they made no aggressive moves, their stunning femininity began to stir uncontrollable male responses. He felt an urge to reach further up Sarah's arm, to touch Kat's sleek and slender shape. While Wendel continued, Sarah let her oversize hand rest onto his legs. "Now is not the time to wonder about how or why. I'm introducing you to the results of your labor for two reasons.

"First, I want you to see how important it is that we have more Rashja, how great an impact the Rashja can have, so that it may motivate you." Derek found it a little hard to pay attention with Sarah's massive breasts on display in front of him. He forced himself to face Wendel for a moment. 

"Second, I must regrettably ask to you to remain on company property for the time being, for your own safety. When you signed up five years ago, I let you know there might be a moment like this. You are now simply too important to the project to be at risk. In fact, I'm placing one of our two only Amazons with you for your own protection. In addition to watching over you, she will also make your stay on premesis more... " Wendel glanced at the women as if searching for words, then finished his sentence, "comfortable." His eyes and attention lingered for a moment before returning to Derek with an almost upbeat chipperness. "Therefore, you have a decision to make. Would you like me to give you Kat, or Sarah?" 

Derek looked at them both as his mind raced in conflict. He felt disbelief at having been told he was under house arrest. The company couldn't just keep him there, could they? Still, one of these women was to stay with him? They were both stunning, and the suggestion made him giddy like he hadn't been since he was a child. Suddenly he was at a toystore picking out his first bicycle, with an expectation of an indescribable excitement. Whatever the women had been before the Rashja, it had changed them into Amazons. Another conflict entered his mind. Was it his place just to pick one, like she was property to be handed out? He looked at them each and the giddy child got the best of him. "Sarah, I choose Sarah." He started into her eyes as she smiled, still kneeling motionless in front of him. Kat immediately rose in response, standing next to Wendel. 

"Excellent. Excellent. Sarah, I want you to protect and serve Derek. You are to remain on the premesis, and keep him within eye-sight at all times, except when he's working in the lab. Aside from those constraints, please do as he wishes, his will is my will." Wendel faced Derek directly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some matters to attend to. Sarah will properly introduce herself. My assistant will assure you have complete privacy until you leave, so take your time." As soon as Wendel had turned and headed for the double doors, Derek's attention settled back on Sarah and the impossibility of this all. 

Chris held the apartment door open as Suzanne moved through. He watched her for signs of uneasy steps, wondering if she was still as tipsy as he was. "I still can't believe you all went to the same high-school." Earlier that night he had met two of her girlfriends, and his mind was still stuck on how smoldering hot they were. In a semi-drunk state, it rotated through conjured fantasies of the trio. "That must have been quite a cheerleading squad." 

After locking his front door from the inside, he turned to find Suzanne staring him down with hungry eyes. A moment later she was against him, playfully mocking a nibble at his bottom lip, her body pressing him into the door. "Ohh, I bet you'd have been at every game checking us out. Trying to get a peek up those short skirts." With her voice was sultry and sexy and her proximity pushing his buttons, the feeling of her fingers jabbing into his side caught him by surprise. Her next words were biting, "especially Drew right." He felt a wash of guilt ride over him. 

His mind was filled with conflict. Drew had shamelessly flirted with him all night, and while he can't say he disliked it, he did his best not to provoke it. However, hours earlier he had wondered if he was getting too close to Suz. If he was ready to get more serious, even to meet her friends. Now he was feeling guilty? Something defensive surged in him. "Hey, it wasn't my fault. She's your friend." A moment later, he wasn't sure what to make of the situation. Suzanne was still pressed up against him, a smirk across her face, as she again nibbled at his lip. She wasn't mad, she was teasing. She was really unlike any girl he had ever known. He teased back, "next time you'll have to protect me from her." 

"No chance of that." Suzanne knew she'd practically encouraged Drew's flirtations towards him, and in truth she enjoyed them too. Somewhere deep inside she bargained that she owed Chris something for her lie this evening. The girls hadn't really attended high-school together. Drew and Allison were friends from her former days as a stripper. She wanted to tell him, but Chris was the first real-boyfriend in her new real-life, and she wasn't ready to risk the truth yet. Yes, she owed him for the lie. "No chance, but maybe next time I'll let her come home with us." She repeated her nibble at his ear, the response she felt growing in his pants both setting her pulse racing and washing her guilt away. Her arousal was to be only playful torture this evening, as it wasn't right the time in her cycle for her to get what she really wanted. Still, it didn't curb her intentions. She really liked Chris. Tonight would be all for him. 

Her whispered teases were sending Chris' imagined fantasies into overdrive. If Suzanne was classy and sexy, Drew was dirty and sexy, and even the joking mention of her joining them almost sent him choking on his own tongue. Was she kidding? Should he ask? Would he seem too eager? Nothing he could think to say seemed even remotely appropriate. After another nibble at his ear, Suzanne backed away. She began unbuttoning her top as she enticed him towards the bedroom. He moved to follow her, almost forgetting about Drew in the wake of her seduction. 

By the time they reached his bed, she was down to her panties and he was pulling his jeans to the floor. When he broke their kiss to reach for his bedside table, she gently stopped him from fishing out a condom. "No no sweetie. It would be a messy night for me. Tonight is all for you." She crawled up on the bed, patting for him to sit next to her. Understanding her meaning, he finished undressing, joining her in the bed. So far their intimacy had been exclusively sex. At times quick, at times mind-blowingly long and erotic, but always sex. He realized he wasn't sure what to expect. She immediately straddled him as she sat up stroking him between her legs. 

She looked impossibly sexy. Her hair falling down over her bare shoulders. Her breasts perched perfectly on her frame. He couldn't help but reach up and caress her body. The curve of her breast felt perfect, and he immediately felt her nipples respond to his touch. Her face showed it too. Then she startled him. Forcing his hands away, pushing them to the pillow, she fell towards him. Her tongue dove into his mouth, forceful, exploring. When they parted, her voice was pleading, "sweetie, don't rile me up like that. I already want you inside me, and that is not helping." He let out a small nod in understanding. "I'll make a deal with you. If you can keep your hands off me tonight." She didn't finish her sentence. Instead she suggestively licked an outstretched finger before drawing it in and out of her lips. 

His ear-to-ear smile showed the excitement his casual words wouldn't, "Okay, I'll try." She smirked at his playful quip as she sat up again. It wasn't planned, but now that the deal was in motion she knew she had to torture just a little. As she resumed stroking, she tightened her frame an extra bit to pose and considered her options. Of course his eyes immediately gawked at her breasts. Now that he could look but not touch, he seemed to do nothing but stare. She almost laughed out loud at how endearing she found it. 

She brought one hand up to her chest, suggestively cupping herself. His eyes immediately focused on her motion. "At least I know you're a boob guy." She glanced down at her own perky chest. "With Drew's recent enhancements, I'm sure you were powerless to stop all the gawking you were doing this evening. You're just lucky I'm not the jealous type." Her opposite hand was still playfully stroking him as he nodded. Chris was only a little surprised at her strange sense of humor, the majority of his attention focused on her rhythmicly stroking him.

A moment later she shifted her position, sliding down his legs until she was straddling his knees. Her witty banter ended as he felt the wetness of her tongue lick and lap against him. She was slow at first. Drawing him in and out just to warm him up. A minute later she quickened the pace, letting his audible breathing and subtle moans lead her on. She could have drawn it out, tried to keep him teetered at the edge of explosion, but the more she pleasured him, the more she wanted pleasure herself, something she wouldn't get tonight. She hadn't gone on much more than several minutes before she let him slip over the edge, blasting his release into her throat. She continued gently lappipng at him a few seconds more, until it was clear he was completely finished. It made her feel good. She really liked him. 

Chris finally let his body relax as Suz came off him and quietly left for the bathroom. Lying in satisfied release, the defeatist curse in him was temporarily slain. What the session had lacked in longevity, it made up for in anticipation. The way she had teased and darted her tongue against him hinted at something more, something he'd like to experience more of. 

-- 

"Owww. Chris, somethings wrong!" He woke up with a start, not realizing he had drifted to sleep. Suzanne was in bed next to him. Had it been minutes, hours? He realized he had no idea. He opened his eyes, looking around the dark room to get his bearings before focusing on her. She was curled up clutching her stomach. "It hurts!" 

He finally had his senses back, and abruptly sat up in bed. "What hurts? What's going on?" He reached his hand out to comfort her, and her skin felt unusually hot to the touch. She was silent, her whole body tensed weathering some kind of pain. For a minute the only sound was her agitated breathing. Then he heard it start to slow and calm, and her body began to relax. "Are you okay? Can you sit up?"

She was still panting when she spoke, "it's going away. Wow, that was really painful. My body felt like it was burning all over." She was seated looking at him now. "Like someone strained all my muscles at once." Her response and description sounded more than familiar. Images of Goddess Resort flashed through his mind and he tried to dismiss them. That had been months ago. Certainly there wouldn't be any residual effects, and if there were, he would have noticed by now. Her posture showed that while the pain was gone, she was still concerned and agitated. She moved up out of the bed and began to gather her clothing. "Chris, that really scared me, you need to take me to the hospital. Something is really wrong." 

Chris took a good look at her. If she looked any different he couldn't tell in the dark. Was this the Rashja, or was something really wrong with her? He stood up to comfort her, interrupting her dressing while wrapping her in a hug. He could tell immedaitely, she was undoubtedly taller, and it wasn't subtle. He supposed that if anyone's five-foot-seven girlfriend suddenly stood five-foot-nine, they'd also immediately notice. There was no question this was the Rashja. But how, and what should he do? "Relax Suzanne. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. Do you feel alright now?" 

He felt her immediately calm in his arms, undoubtedly also a product of the Rashja. She let out a big sigh, "actually, I feel better than alright. That is so weird, one minute I'm wrenching in pain, and now I feel fantastic." She pulled away from their hug and looked him in the eye. "Do you think I should see a doctor?" Her look was a bit puzzled as she spoke. "Wow, I feel really tall all of a sudden." 

"I'm sure you're fine. We don't need to go to the hospital. Let's just lay back down and get some sleep." He had hardly finished his sentence when she pulled off the few bits of clothing she'd slipped on, and made her way back into the bed. As he crawled back in, his mind was running in all directions. How did this happen? Clearly the resort didn't expect male patrons to leave still turning women into Goddesses. Something weird was certainly going on. Would it happen again? What would he tell her? She curled up against him with a little more force and firmness than he expected. Clearly the Rashja was already taking it's hold. He wasn't sure if he should be worried or excited as they both drifted off to sleep.

Derek sat in the chair, staring up with wonder at the beautiful and surreal creation kneeling in front of him. Even just as Wendel and Kat turned to walk away, Sarah's attention was already intently focused on him. Her name sounded wrong in his head. It was a name that should belong to a normal woman, not this towering eight-foot-tall Amazon. They both stayed silent for a moment, considering each other. She wasn't just taller than humanly possibly, she was larger. His pulse quickened and his mind raced to understand conflicting emotions flooding through him. Partly it was fear and submission, triggered by her superior size. However, it was also desire and lust. Her wide shoulders and massive chest made her neck, arms, and waist appear incredibly slender and feminine. The sound of a door closing announced that Wendel and Kat had finally cleared the room. Sarah's eyes remained locked on his as she reached to rest her palm gently on his torso. The personal contact seemed inappropriate in his boss's office, but the unreality of it all had him stunned into inaction. 

"I'm glad you picked me Derek. I understand from Wendel you worked very hard to make this amazing gift possible." He felt glad for her breaking the silence. His mind still struggling to put the pieces together. The fact that his research was related to what he saw before him was hard to believe. Sarah was otherworldly. The motion of her larger-than-life eyes, face, and lips as she spoke, the feeling of her oversize hand against him, both demanded the full attention of his senses. "This experience, this transformation, has been absolutely remarkable. Thank you. Thank you for making the Rashja." She paused for a moment, and he nodded, acknowledging appreciation he wasn't sure he fully understood yet.

Then she settled herself even closer, resting her opposite hand on his shoulder, all her fingers now slowly brushing the fabric of his shirt. Her face was still a a couple feet away, but her oversize features made Derek feel she was intimately close. Her voice was slow and consoling. "I imagine it is quite a shock to lose your privacy. I plan to make the experience as comfortable as possible." His eyes traced the shape of her lips, her chin, her hair, her neck. Her proximity was intoxicating. "And I assure you, I can make you very comfortable." She leaned herself closer still, and before he knew what he was doing, his eyes found her cleavage. Her shifting had created a Rashja-fueled distraction more powerful than his concious control. Pressed together by her top, her imposing breasts extended inches wider than his frame, suddenly making him feel very small. It took him a moment to stop his inappropriate staring and meet her eyes again. When he did, her smile held a new wrinkle of satisfaction. 

"I'm sitting here wondering what kind of companion you prefer. We're going to be spending lots of time together. I wonder, should I be naughty or nice?" Her eyes showed her question was rhetorical, looking down without waiting for an answer. He felt her hand move against his torso. A moment later, she pushed the boundary further, casually bumping the growing interest in his pants. He had no thoughts of control, let alone objection, but barely averted showing his surprise. He felt her opposite hand along his shoulder, her fingers sliding into his hair. "Can I give you a small taste of how thankful I can be?" Watching her massive beautiful face and lips, he felt overwhelmed by a flurry of desires. Some part of him wanted to sink into the chair, to hide from a superior predator, to run. The other side of him wanted to reach out and touch her, wanted her lips to press against him. He felt the wetness in his palms, the conflict holding him stunned.

With her hand cupping the back of his head, she could feel even the involuntarily nod that occurred. It would have taken outright resistance for her to stop. She gently tensed her fingers, massaging the back of his scalp and intentionally tipping his gaze down towards her cleavage. Sarah maintained her life as an escort not just for the money, but because she liked it. The feeling of men adoring her, the feeling of pushing their pleasure buttons, both enthralled her. It had been that way as long as she could remember. Even at a young age, she'd confront a junior classmate and let him peak at her over-developed breasts just to watch him flush with embarrassed arousal. She liked the attention and found her body was an amazing tool to get it. Here and now, she had seen all the same responses from Derek, the way he couldn't keep his eyes off her. She loved it.

If there was a downside to indulging her childish impulses, it's that her profession also came with a severe lack of control, and sometimes that could be very unpleasant. However, kneeling over Derek's small frame, transformed by the Rashja, she felt completely in control. This moment was what she loved, only better. She was free to find out what he wanted and give it to him on her terms. She brought her other hand to his head and marveled at the how small and soft it felt in her grasp. 

"There we go, relax Derek. I'm here for so much more than just keeping you safe. I will take all your tension away. I am your retreat from the world." She rubbed fingers against him with a feather touch, the Rashja instinctively guiding the tiny amount of pressure needed. She leaned in further, placing her elbows on the chair. She didn't need the support. She was merely inching her body closer, breaking down his boundaries with the allure she knew it possessed. "Just relax, let yourself go." 

Derek felt shrouded shadow, surrounded by her hypnotic voice and touch. Should he object? His mind sifted through some of the ways this all seemed wrong. He had only just met, and hardly knew her; they were at work, in his boss' office; she had practically been given to him, yet she wasn't property; and this was beside the impossibility of her size. Despite all that, he felt himself quickly surrendering. His objections were lost in the divine feeling of her fingers on his scalp. They were silenced with the firm grip holding him gawking at her mountainous breasts. 

Then she leaned even closer. He felt a tingle of anticipation, wondering if his forehead was going to touch her. It didn't at first, and then her pressure tipped him against her sternum. As soon as he felt her skin, he finally felt himself relax. He hadn't realized how tense he was until he sank into the chair and against her. Shadowed cleavage filled his view as her massage progressed, releasing the tension in his neck and shoulders. "You've been pretty quiet. Are we enjoying the massage?" He nodded against her. "And how about the view? Do you like my tits?" He was taken aback at her directness, his embarrassment causing a slight startled movement. He only wanted her to continue, so he nodded again, hoping she would.

No such luck. She let go, rising up and looking down at him from above, glancing at her own chest as she referred to it. "I could tell. I've always loved how much attention they get. Now thanks to you, they are so much bigger!" As if to accentuate the point, her hands cupped and playfully pushed her tits together. Derek's cheeks flushed as he watched her squeeze herself, embarrassed and aroused by her overt sexiness. With the same disarming directness she'd been using her whole life, she made her offer. "Do you want to feel them?" 

He had been silent and salivating so long the first time he tried to speak a barely audible squak came out, "arrrss". He was still staring at where her hands pressed and rubbed herself when he cleared his throat. "Please, that would be nice." 

Her hand quickly brushed his cheek. "How polite. You're such a gentleman." Her voice was beginning to take on a sexy melodramatic quality. "We're going to have so much fun together." With that she gently pulled the top up over her head, tossing it to the floor. If her breasts seemed massive mostly clothed, they seemed even moreso naked. They were almost directly in front of him, each seeming as large and round as his own face. She wasted no time leaning closer, planting one boob squarely against him, her hand on the back of his head pressing him into her. The world went black as breasts dragged against his lips and cheeks.

It was something Sarah had done thousands of times, yet this time it felt so very different. Rather than his head merely rubbing against her, it sank unexpectedly deep into her body. She marveled at how little he looked as she held him there, submerged in her titflesh. Surprise caught her at the realization of just how big she had become. "Wow, my tits are fucking huge!" She was used to being well-endowed, but she was only just starting to understand this new world. Being an Amazon Protector wasn't about just being taller, it was about being so much bigger. She let him enjoy it a moment longer before bringing him out for an audible gasp of air. "Mmm... I bet you like that. " She reached down for his hands, "you know," she moved them each to the sides of her breasts as she spoke, "I think these are the biggest boobs on the planet right now." Pressing his small hands against her made her feel even bigger. It was such a rush. 

Derek was in a trance. His hands were sandwiched as she again manipulated them to squeeze her tits together inches from his face. In the same way that her body was proportionally oversized, so did her sexiness seem to be. His mind was fully occupied taking in the feeling of her breasts. They each seemed like the size of soccer balls. Big, fleshy, soft soccer balls, and those nipples. His eyes locked on and in a moment his tongue was on her, probing towards one. He felt it between his lips, taking it into his mouth and sucking as he felt it harden. He heard her respond, processing it only enough to know she was encouraging him, "ohh, I like that. No biting now." He felt her hands let go, her boobs shifting as they strained out against his small hands. He did his best to hold them pressed together. 

As he moved to enjoy her other nipple, he felt her hands on his waist, working the fastener of his pants free. His focus increasingly drawn away from the feeling of her skin in his lips, as her fingers slid across his underwear. Above his eyesight, he could see her intently staring down at him. "Looks like you're hard for me too. I think he wants to come out and play." He felt her pull at his underwear and then the bare skin of her fingers against him. He felt her just gently fondling him, teasing him, and he loved it. His lips wandered across the curve of her breast, she leaned in, again burying his face into her. This time his hands held them together around him, and before he knew it he was ear deep between her tits. He turned his head to the side, one boob covering his whole face as he suckled against it, the other cradling the back of his head. It was surreal, unlike anything he'd ever experienced. 

Sarah held in laughter as she watched him bury himself against her. Not that she didn't find it sexy, she did. It was just so different. Most of what she could see was the hair-covered top of his head, wedged between her huge tits. She could feel him though, his open mouth and warm tongue sucking against the inside of her left breast. She was really starting to get turned on by how much bigger than him she was. Which was good, because even his erect manhood felt pretty small in her hands. 

She ran her fingers against him, at the moment just playing; gently brushing him while he nuzzled away at her. Then she couldn't resist. She brought one hand to the side of each breast, again sandwiching his hands against her, and really squeezed. Harder than before, her breasts smashed and wrapped around most of his head. Then she giggled them up and down, his face still buried between them. She wondered if she'd get bigger, big enough for him to just disappear between them. When her mental fantasizing had run it's course, she realized she might be smothering him a little too long; a concern that was confirmed by his gasp and panting as she let him free. "Sorry Derek. I got a little carried away there." 

The ear to ear grin on his face said he wasn't the least bit bothered. "Please." His words separated by equal parts panting and timidness. "Don't. Apologize. That was amazing." Then he put on the cutest puppy dog eyes she'd ever seen. "Would you. Would you do it again?" This time she couldn't help herself, bursting out with a giggling satisfaction. He must have mis-interpreted it as his face turned quickly sour, and the mis-understood moment instantly made her feel a little guilty. 

He could feel his face flushing red. He already felt forward asking, her and the way she giggled in response made embarrassed him. She was still giggling a little as she spoke, "I'm sorry sweetie, of course I will." Her hand came to his cheek, brushing it as if to console him. "You are just so darn cute." Then she leaned down very close, her face intimately approaching his. He felt it coming before it happened, her lips planting on his. Immediately he knew this wasn't a normal kiss. Even before he had a chance to respond, her lips and tongue lapped at him, softly wrapping and pulling at his upper lip. He realized he didn't know how to respond so he just let her continue, not pushing the kiss deeper, just nibbling at him with her lips and tongue between words. "I could just. Eat. You. Up." 

He kinda wished she hadn't stopped, until he saw her sexy eyes staring him down, her hands already propped on the sides of her breasts. "You ready sweetie?" He watched her breasts rub up and down against each other as she suggestively mirrored the motion she'd used on him. "Take a deep breath," she taunted, as she leaned into him, parting her tits around his head. At first there was still light, his nose bumping her breastbone. Then the world went dark and muffled. Her tits smashed and molded around his head, covering his ears and cheeks. He liked being able to breath, his face free in a small gap, but he preferred feeling her skin on his face. 

He tried to turn his head, meeting resistance from her squeezing. She must have noticed, as she eased up, letting him turn sideways, light giving him a brief view of one breast. Then darkness again as she squeezed them down on him. He loved it, the soft warm feeling of her skin wrapping against his face. He opened his mouth to suck and tongue against her. He couldn't breathe, but he didn't care. Then he felt them moving. They weren't dragging as much as rolling against him, the soft fleshy pressure alternately dancing up and down. He could have stayed there forever, or at least until his breath ran out, which it was quickly doing. She stretched it out longer than he expected, slowing the motion and just smashing and holding him there for a few final seconds. He thought he might have to physically remind her to let him out before she finally did. The deep breath of air he gasped in tasted ohh so sweet. 

Looking down at an even bigger smile on his face, endearing yet almost silly in it's exaggeration, warmed her up inside. Sarah knew she was a giver. She had always been a giver. It was what drew her to try out becoming an escort. It was also what kept her coming back for more. When her high-school and college girlfriends went off to more accepted careers and stable husbands, she stayed. She couldn't explain it, she just liked pleasing others. Some had tried to make her think there was something wrong with it, but she'd challenge them. Were they happy? Were they really happy? Because she knew she was. Looking at the waft of emotion on Derek's face made her happy. She would do just about anything he asked right now, just for the feeling to continue. The money Wendel was paying her was just a bonus.

She reached down to find the bulge in his underpants, immediately satisfied that whatever embarrassment her laughing had caused was completely remedied. She watched him, grin still painted on, staring straight at her giant tits like they held him in a trance. Most of the evening Derek had excellent eye-contact with her. It was like now that he finally had her blessing he was just going to indulge, and she liked it. After slipping her fingers against his bare cock, she was careful only to gently brush him so as not to interrupt his moment. This time she felt his hands against her waist, small and chilly as they held her. His eyes darted up to hers, projecting something non-verbal. Was it 'may i?' or 'thank you'? She wasn't sure, but he leaned in and sucked at her so far unexplored right nipple. 

Making him feel good was making her so excited she felt herself getting wet. Noticing it, her hand instinctively became more aggressive, rubbing and twisting at the head of his cock. His mouth came off her in a start, his eyes finding hers and show his pleasant surprise. "You like that do you?" She repeated the motion, causing him to whimper a bit in response. She wondered if she should feed him her breasts again, letting him suckle away as she teased and jerked him off. However, he was leaning back in the chair, his body language making room for something else. Still rubbing him, she wondered what he might want. With his obvious breast fascination, she had an urge to wrap him up and titfuck him. He would enjoy it, but she realized it might be be awkward. There wasn't room with him sitting in the chair. She'd have to move him, and there were limited options in the office. No, better to save that for another time. He moaned at another twist she gave the head of his cock, sending a pleasant chill down her spine. 

Derek was entrapped. For a moment he felt over-sexed, like the stimulation was all too much. He had braced himself in the chair against the building pressure between his legs. Staring up at her unbelievably hot body, slender arms, sexy red hair, and huge tits, all of it inhumanly Amazon-sized, he felt he was going to pop any moment. But the way she was teasing and rubbing him just wouldn't let it happen, the pressure just building and building. He felt his body instinctively reaching his cock towards her as he braced in the chair. He didn't know what was next, but he wanted more. 

Then her hand did it again, the motion that sent a sting of pleasure through him, and he let out another half-voluntary moan. He felt like he was so close, he just wanted a good thrust. Even as he thought it, his pelvis moved in response, but he felt her hand on his waist, pressing him back down with unexpected force. "Careful. We wouldn't want to soil your bosses' furniture would we?" He was held firm while her motions forcing an agonizing pleasure wave through him. He whimpered at the pleasant torture, and from the satisfied smirk on her face, he could tell she was enjoying it too. Maybe a little too much. 

Her eyes remained locked on him as she descended, her intent becoming clear as her lips moved closer and closer to his cock. He felt her breasts touch his knees and thighs, and then her tongue lay against him. It hardly moved at first, as if just wetting him down, then started lapping against him. If his view was sexy before, it was only growing sexier now. Her red hair fell into his lap, framing her naked shoulders and back. He could see the sides of her breasts flowing out beyond her frame, as her motion gently rubbed them against his legs. He could barely see the shape of her perfect athletic rear, still clothed and far out of reach. The warm wetness of her tongue, while incredible, had softened his growing feeling of urgency. He let his arms relax and caress her shoulders. Their slender feminine appearance seeming in impossible contrast to their firm and Amazon sized reality. His body tingled at the dissonance. 

Then he felt it again, the wave of pleasure ripping through him, "urhhh", his hands squeezing in response. It was different with her tongue, warm, muted, but decidedly the same sensation. Whatever she was doing, he loved it. At the same time he wanted more of it, it made his body want to buck and thrust and shoot into her mouth. He felt lucky that her hand was still holding him firmly against the chair, more firmly than should have been possible. He didn't give it a second thought. 

He felt her tongue twist against him again as she finally began thrusting against him. For a moment it was relief. Satisfying his body's need to finish it's reproductive act. However, he felt the pressure building again, her thrusting interrupted by sensations that he was sure were placed to drive him crazy. He let out another moan and realized his hands were viced in a death grip against her skin. If it was hurting her she didn't show it. She merely continued her amazing routine. Wow she's beautiful. Wow this is amazing. Her bobbing head paced quicker as she inched him closer and closer to climax. Her motions somehow responded to his sounds while also torturing him until the very end. He felt it a few seconds before, his whole body tensing. "Oh my, aunnhhh." His eyes closed, hands clenched, and body tensed as it tried to resist. Then he felt release and himself pumping into her mouth. She slowed, still lapping against him for a few final moments before stopping and sitting back away from him. 

As she sat back, she stared straight into his eyes, trying to catch a glimmer of the climax that had just passed. He could see his calm release, his satisfaction, and it sated her. That would have to be enough. She loved the intimate feeling of having one in her mouth, and the dexterity of the lips and tongue were such an easy tool to pleasure with. However, it was always bitter sweet. No matter how much she loved making them moan and squirm, sometimes grab or even dig their nails into her, something her mouth was unequaled at, it would always fall short. As much as she loved sucking cock, it meant she couldn't see the look their eyes as they came. She could never see the moment of release. Sometimes the rest was enough. Sometimes it wasn't. When it wasn't she'd have to immediately ride them, to fuck them until they gave it to her, their look of pleasure and surrender.

As she noticed the darkness around them from the sun having set, she realized they aught to clear Wendel's office. He insisted they would have their privacy, but there was no need to overstay their welcome. She turned and found her top on the floor, stretching it back on before turning to see Derek zipping himself up. Looking at him, she felt a calm satisfaction. Not one as powerful as a climax, but equally important. Derek could have been anyone, she had no choice about that. He could have been pushy, demanding, frustrated. Of all the bad partners, she hated the frustrating ones the most, ohh and the givers. Two givers trying to pleasure each other was like trying to fit a round-peg into a round-peg. It just didn't work. Derek on the other hand, was perfect. He gave her what she needed. They were going to be spending lots of time together, and she was looking forward to it. She stood up, extending a hand to encourage him up out of the chair. "Now that we've been introduced. I think it's time we let Wendel have his office back." 

The adrenalin rush of his climax finally fading, he felt reality setting in and crashing down. Sarah stood, reaching towards him, and he wondered for a moment if he was going crazy. How was this all even possible? He let himself meet her hand, standing up next to her for the first time. Suddenly he had a new perspective on just how shocking the Amazon transformation was. She was easily two or three feet taller than him. The oversize chest that had been a sexy temptation moments ago seemed to take on an entirely different, almost dominant, quality when he realized her frame held it almost as high as he was tall. For a moment he felt a looming dread standing next to her. Fortunately, it washed away as he looked up and found her eyes. The same soft, beautiful, feminine, intimate eyes. "I understand you already have an apartment in the building. How about you show me where the two of us will be living for the next couple months?" 

"Yes, yes, of course." Suddenly Wendel's insistance that he have more than just a room and a bed to crash at seemed to make sense. At the same time, he noticed how strange it felt looking so far up while talking to Sarah. The way her hand felt, too large and too high to be normal, felt equally strange as he led her towards the door. However, he accepted them, as reality finally took hold. His mind drifted for a moment to an imagined history long ago, where he was starting to believe real Amazons walked among men. "It's like we have history without understanding it at all." His thinking out loud probably didn't make sense to her, but she didn't press him on it. As they walked towards the office door, he turned his head slightly, impressed at the strides of her long legs next to him, not nearly able to see her face. Before they opened the door, he clasped his other hand around hers as he expressed himself, "Sarah, you're amazing. Having an Amazon Protector is something I think I'm really going to enjoy." 

For a fleeting moment, Simon Foley felt his life at the resort couldn't get any more perfect. Cheri looked absolutely stunning, standing about eight feet tall in her black dress and bare feet. She set his dinner plate in front of him, seared ono and mango chutney. She was as good a cook as she was a scientist. "Do you need anything else Simon?" He shook his head; the fleeting moment passing; the guilt beginning to return. He knew the Rashja made her want to please him. Of course she liked him, but knowing she didn't have free will made him feel guilty. 

Across the table an oversize lounger looked out-of-place until she relaxed into and dwarfed it. He looked down at a delicious looking meal. "Cheri, are you sure you don't want some for yourself?" She gave him a puzzled look, about to respond before he continued. "Ohh, I know you don't need food while under the effects of Rashja. I just. I feel guilty just sitting and eating by myself when you've gone through all this effort." 

"So you'd feel less guilty if I ate with you? I can eat with you if you like. It's true I don't need food, but it won't hurt. Tomorrow I'll make myself a plate as well. Will that make you happy?" Somehow her words only made him feel more guilty. His eyes found the meal, then the table. "What is it Simon?" 

"Cheri, do you ever want to return to normal? I mean, for a while at least?" She looked at him with a puzzled look. "It's just. I feel guilty. We both know the Rashja compells you. You do everything I could dream of. You're an amazing cook, amazing company, not to mention our intimacy." Her brow raised a bit at the mention, but this wasn't about him. "I want you to be happy too." He realized he was catching her in another trap. If he wanted her to be happy, the Rashja would make her happy. "No. I want to know if you are happy, genuinely happy, without the Rashja's influence. Are you happy?" 

Cheri looked at him, considering the question carefully. It wasn't a question she had asked herself in as long as she could remember. Certainly he was right about the Rashja, but did it matter? Her thoughts seemed clear enough. She was better than happy. Spending time on Goddess rotation was a temporary fix. Having spent months, even only partially progressed, was permanent euphoria. 

"Simon," she open firmly. "Would you agree I liked you before the Rashja?" He nodded across the table, the sheepish guilt still showing in his eyes and posture. "You don't have anything to feel guilty about. Cooking a meal, asking you if you need anything. These are trivial gestures. You wouldn't understand, you can't understand, how amazing it is to stay like this." She looked down at herself to accentuate the point, her posture open and relaxed in the chair. Then she rose up out of it.

"The Rashja makes it effortless to remain a picture of female perfection." She was making her way slowly around the table. "To have size and strength beyond any human capability." She set knelt down next to him, bringing them nearly eye-to-eye, her hand brushing his cheek. "And you, my dear Simon, accept me this way. It is you and your team who made it possible for women to be this way. No, you should not feel guilty about a meal. I am glad to do it for you." 

She placed a gentle soft kiss on his lips to expressed her caring sincerity. "However, if you wish, I will purge the Rashja for you. Then when I tell you all the same things, you can truly trust them. Agreed?" He nodded, looking like the guilt was mostly, but not all, washed away. She stood, heading back to her chair. "Good, now eat the meal I slaved over a hot stove all evening to make for you. Or it'll get cold, and you have something to truly feel guilty about!" She shot him a playfully sarcastic look, and he smiled, digging his fork into the meal. 

"While you eat, let me update you about my research today. As you know, I've been researching patron-113," his face didn't show recognition, so she elaborated, "Chris Rothchild, the patron with abnormal Rashja falloff rates." He finally nodded, chewing another bite before swallowing. "Take your time sweetie. No need to hurry just because I'm not eating." She paused, and Simon forced himself to chew a little more slowly. "As you know, we've been looking into his abnormal chemical response, and we've found another unusual figure." She shifted in her chair slightly, sitting slightly more upright as if about to say something important.

"Apparently his main goddess partner, whom we're calling subject-cr0, had an unusually high retained growth factor!" She was sure he wouldn't remember the details, so she provided a reminder. "As you know, we have a very stable formula for retained growth after a transformation. Typically RGF is less than 1%, so a five-foot-seven visitor who reaches her full level-three height of fifteen-feet, after the 29 hour cleanse, will return to only a quarter inch taller than her normal height. Of course there are also small factors in the formula for repeat exposure and longer durations. Both of these are used to set policies that assure employees on rotation won't exceed societal norms." 

SImon had only been half paying attention until her last statement. How long had Cheri been 8' tall? How big were those factors? Would she return to her normal height, or was his selfish desire going to make her an outcast in society. The guilt again washed over his face and she must have seen it, and she gave him a non-pleased glance. "Don't worry Simon. Those factors are very small. I'd be lucky to keep an inch even after a year like this." She sounded almost unhappy at the conclusion, but he let out a tiny sigh of relief. "I can stay like this for years before my RGF exceeds normal ranges, depending on your definition of normal of course." Her smile had a little snicker attached to it. 

"Subject-cr0 is another story." Simon felt a little rude to keep eating through her explanation. However, he was ravenous, and the food was incredibly good, ohh so good. "She hasn't responded according to the formula. 29 hours after her last sernasa, she maintained an astounding 10% RGF! It didn't raise any red flags at the time, because starting only five-foot-four, her final five-ten was well within acceptable outcomes, especially during the commotion of our emergency procedures. However, that's six inches of retained growth!" Simon coughed at the shocking figure, almost spitting food onto the table. 

"I know, shocking isn't it? I only noticed it when reviewing the data, and it's quite extraordinary." Now Simon had plenty to say, but the half-chewed food in his mouth needed to be handled, lest he end up choking. She seemed to be reading his mind as she voiced her own concerns. "As you can imagine, It would be alarming enough if a person was out in the wild with high Rashja levels. However, with a 10% RGF, it could quickly spiral out of control. After finding out, I immediately checked in on his status. As you know we've been tracking him since he left, and while we're not sure of his current Rashja levels, there have been no sightings of any Rashja related activities."

Simon drank some water and audibly cleared his throat after finishing the bite he almost choked on. There was still a bit of dinner left on his plate, but something had stolen the rest of his appetite. "That IS all quite astonishing. Are we absolutely positive there hasn't been any Rashja activity? How are we tracking him?" Cheri had already read the way he placed his silverware on the plate, a clear sign he was finished, and moved to take it. With her long reach and long strides, it only took her a moment to place it on the kitchen bar and be headed back to him.

"We have a staff team checking in on him weekly, looking for any suspicious activity in him or his partners." She extended a hand down towards Simon. In what had become a common habit for them, he turned to help her slip it under his arm, grasping her back in the process. Then she easily and dextrously lifted him from the chair, propping him onto her hip as she headed for the living room. What might have seemed shocking to an onlooker had become completely routine. 

She had first picked him up after he passingly mentioned discomfort straining up to talk to her. At the time she was closer to ten-feet-tall, and while at eight-feet it wasn't as necessary, it had become a habit for them. They both found it convenient to be eye-to-eye, and he seemed to more than enjoy it. In fact, she hardly realized she'd done it as she continued their conversation. "Recently he has a semi-stable girlfriend, and despite being apparently quite... active, they have not shown any signs of sernasa." 

Simon was distracted from the conversation briefly. As Cheri ducked under the living room archway, he noticed some unexpected cracks in it. "Cheri, I thought we had those fixed." She stopped, stepping back a step while being careful not to hit the archway yet again.

"Yes, I uhm. Sorry. It must have been this morning. I was a bit sleepy when I came in for your glass of water and I bumped it again." Looking at the damage, it was more obvious than she had thought. "You know we could solve this if we just stayed in the resort instead of here. There are plenty of rooms equipped for our situation. Plus, I'd have a little more room in the bathroom, and you wouldn't have to help bathe me in that tiny tub." 

Simon already felt guilty enough living out his fantasy 24/7. He had his own personal Goddess, he didn't need to stay in the resort every night. Besides, he was worried what the staff might think about him violating their exposure guidelines. He could already see the way they looked at Cheri in business settings. They had made a fake cover-story about testing the long-term affects of Rashja, but he guessed few bought it. They simply didn't want to test the company's resolve against the lab director. He wondered if he was playing this too risky. Maybe he was, but staying in the resort would make it riskier still. "Cheri, I like it here, and I like bathing you." 

She gave him an intimate squeeze at the thought. She had heard his reasoning before, and he was probably right, even if it would be more comfortable for her in the resort. "Alright honey. I'll call them to fix the archway again. Maybe they can just remove it, or pad it somehow." She set him down on the living room couch before sitting opposite him. 

"And if you like bathing me so much, perhaps I should get a little dirty for you." He watched her spread her legs in a suggestive pose, one leg against the back of the couch, the other foot on the floor. Her partially bent legs gave him a clear view up her dress, that is until she pulled it to her waist. She wasn't wearing any panties, and her vagina was spread out in plain view. "It's been a week since I've had you inside me. If you still feel guilty about dinner, you can give me what you know I want." Looking at her sexy offering, his body already started to stir, his mind quickly shifting gears from their work conversation. She wanted the tonyata, she always wanted the tonyata. "Nine feet is not too big. That's what I want Simon." 

"Right this way Mr. Rothchild." As the cute receptionist showed him back towards Suzanne's office, he guessed their client bills must be pretty high to justify such personal treatment. As he walked, he thought about how he'd practically been avoiding her. Not that it was unusual for the two of them not to see each other for a few days, or that he didn't want to see her. This time he had his reasons. 

Ever since he realized the Rashja was still with him, ever since he made her sernasa, he found it hard to concentrate on his normal life. It was as worrying as it was exciting, but he needed to be able to work, he needed to be able to think. So he had put her off as much as he could force himself to. And Suzanne hadn't made it easy, ratcheting up her flirtatous sexting several notches. Walking through the classy law office for the first time, adorned with oak doors and brass fixtures, everything seemed so normal and the accidental sernasa a distant memory. 

Suzanne sat at her desk impatiently. The receptionist had called Chris' arrival, and was bringing him back. Sitting and waiting, her skin tingled and palms flushed at sensations she was entirely not used to. Years as an adult entertainer had changed her relationship needs dramatically. She now found men so easy to attract, so easy to connect with, so easy to seduce, she no longer needed them. It's part of why she took so long to take a boyfriend. It took her two years to realize she was free to choose, rather than be driven by uncontrolled emotions. She chose Chris because he brought out feelings of peace, comfort, sometimes even amusement. She liked it, and she liked him.

However, this week she felt decidedly not at peace. She couldn't get Chris out of her head, could hardly work, and had hardly eaten. What was this? Was it a crush? Was it hormonal? Was it love? She shocked herself with the thought. They hadn't even been dating two months. The idea that she might have fallen for him already, that she could fall for anyone so quickly, was bothersome to her. Yet wasn't this exactly what she had hoped for when she returned to a normal life? To impossibly regain her innocence and fall in love? 

She shook her head as if to shake away the thoughts. She had no idea what was going on. All she knew was that she needed to see him. Both their work lives were incredibly busy, so it was typical to wait for weekends. This week she had shamelessly flirted and enticed him in for a lunch date, just to get a few minutes with him. She took a deep breath, regaining her composure to prepare for their pending arrival. It was not a moment too soon, as her assistant squawked on the intercom, "Miss Oliver, your guest is here, shall I send him in?" 

Chris was fascinated with all the formality. He spent his work life mostly outside the office. Running marketing for Pink Ice Vodka was about networking, communication, glitz and glam. Lots of drinking, lots of bars, and no staff calling to announce a visitor. A moment later the assistant set down her phone and was quickly at the door gesturing him in. Suzanne called out from behind her desk as he entered, "Judy, hold my calls. Also, can you get me a copy of the Pickens brief, I need to begin reviewing it before I leave today." He looked around the office, expecting the exchange to continue. However, her assistant barely let out a nod before pulling the door closed behind him. Her curt behavior so different than what he was used to in his world.

"Nice digs," Chris admitted as he finished looking around. In addition to a great view of the city, it was rich with natural wood and leather. A bit too old-world for his taste, but opulent. Suzanne was on her way to him from her desk. A small couch and coffee table filled most of the remaining space. On the coffee table sat a neatly placed paper bag which he expected was probably their lunch. Suzanne tucked up close and planted a soft kiss on his lips, her quick transition from office efficiency to personal connection catching him a little off-guard, yet reminding him how much he liked her, "it good to see see you too." She just smiled back with what he could swear was a tiny bit of unease. 

Tucking against him, smelling his smell, tasting his lips, Suzanne felt the distracting flutter running through her amplify. Thoughts of it's cause were distant from her mind now, as were thoughts of lunch. She didn't care for either. She wanted him, to pleasure him, to taste him. She looked to the door as she thought about her coworkers beyond it. Could she risk it? In the office? Years ago she would have fucked him in Times Square without hesitation, making a show so everyone could watch. Today, the desire running through her seemed to go against everything that her return to a normal life represented. Increasingly, it was a sensation she couldn't resist. She moved to the door without thinking, locking it. Her body felt simultaneously charged yet numb, as if on auto-pilot. 

Chris didn't find it unusual that she locked the door. He understood how an office worker seeing even innocent personal interactions could be incredibly awkward and was glad for the small increase in privacy. He situated himself on the couch, shuffling through the lunch bag. Nicely wrapped sandwiches. Her favorite turkey on wheat, and a roast beef on rye. He set the bag aside and placed the sandwiches neatly on the table as she sat next to him. He was starting to notice something peculiar. She was staring at him with unusual intensity. Her eyes contained what looked like hunger, but not for the food laid out on the table. She hadn't so much as glanced at it. He spoke up in an almost awkward attempt to break the tension. "Thanks for picking up lunch. How has your week been?" 

She couldn't care enough about his pleasantry to respond to it. She needed him. She slid herself towards him until they were touching, then she opened the top button of her blouse. Her words were a barely audible whisper. "Baby, I've been dying for you all week." She reached down towards his crotch. He obviously wasn't ready for her, but she knew all too well how to get him there. His eyes showed shock, but he made no move to stop her. 

"Did you get my texts?" His reflexive smirk confirmed it, oh he certainly had. Every day she had texted with lewd sexy messages about exactly what she wanted to do to him. He wondered how much of it was the Rashja. "And you stayed away this long? You know a girl could get the wrong idea." She could feel him stiffening up and moved to open his pants. "I want you to know, I've been thinking about that last....project we worked on." Her voice tone shifting with her out of context word-choice. "I think my work was really below par. I think with some extra effort I can get you a much more impressive result." She had much better access now, his pants open, her fingers slipping down to his bare cock. 

Some part of him wasn't entirely comfortable with this happening here, in her office. However, that part of him was not in the driver's seat. Her head had already descended, her tongue already on his still growing erection. He even felt a little sloppy and soft in her mouth, but that didn't last long. Her tongue twisted and twirled at him, and in no time he was biting his own hand in an effort not to make a sound. God she felt good. He gave in, having no objection to a quick blowjob before lunch. Just as as he thought she was going to fast-track the event, she seemed to pace herself, alternately licking and then stroking herself up and down on him as if to draw it out. 

She loved the feeling of him in her mouth as she continued her rhythm for several minutes. During that time, she became increasingly aware of her own dripping wet sex, almost burning for him between her legs. She was conflicted. Her memory of their last session was foggy, but it felt so strangely good to have him come in her mouth. Her plan had been to repeat it. However, right now her body wanted something very different. Her legs wanted to jump up and pounce onto him. Could she do it? Right here in the office? He was doing such a good job keeping quiet, but she wasn't sure she could do the same. The fact that their sex would be unprotected was far from her mind.

She pulled her lips away for a moment. The look in his face was pure pleasure. His teeth were softly clenched down on his own hand. He looking like he was dying to come, and somehow it sent her over the edge. She stood, pulling her panties aside as she quickly knelt into his lap and fed him into her. She wrapped his head in her hands as she gyrated herself against him. She didn't think she could keep this up long without her assistant hearing something, so she had no expectation of getting herself. She just wanted to feel him come into her, and it had to happen fast. Her hips were tipped in, knowing she'd bend and rub him more than he could handle in only a few strokes. The look in his face was a fascinating mix of pleasure and lust, terror and shock. Just two more thrusts and she felt him silently pump into her. It felt warm and good, better than she expected actually. 

Chris was in shock as she climbed off him. It had all happened so fast, he didn't even have time to think. He buttoned his pants as his mind raced with concerns. If he really was still carrying the Rashja, and she had just received it via sex. Oh fuck! His mind screamed at him, and for once he felt glad not to have shouted it out loud. He grabbed her wrist. "Suzanne. Listen to me. We don't have much time. Is there a nearby fire escape?" 

He saw her look of confusion. Obviously she had no idea what he was reacting to. He didn't know how he would explain this all to her, but he knew they had little time. He had to get her out of here. He stood, holding her shoulders. "Suzanne. You have to trust me. We have to leave here right now. Where is the fire escape?" 

"Chris, you're acting really strange. What does that matter." She was rebuttoning her blouse, making herself look presentable, when he grabbed her wrist again. 

Was the Rashja already affecting her? If it was, she'd have to listen to him. But there was a good chance it wasn't. He didn't know how, but he had to get her out of there before the sernasa happened. He guessed he had less than a minute. "Suzanne, you have to come with me right now. Tell your assistant a family matter has come up, I'll explain when we're in the fire escape." He pulled her wrist towards the door, and was happy when she let go of her resistance, finally following him. 

Outside, Suzanne did as he asked, more calmly than he would have given his impatience. "Judy, I have to handle something urgent out of the office. Reschedule my afternoon appointments. I'll call you in a few hours." 

Her assistant nodded back without any hint of surprise, as if darting out after having sex with your boyfriend in the office was completely normal. Suzanne immediately turned to walk away with a pace that was more calm than he would have liked. Her assistant called from behind, "and the Pickens brief?" Suzanne waved her hand over her shoulder at the question, continuing her slow pace towards the fire escape.

From behind her Chris could already see the early signs of her starting to swell. Did she know something was happening? How much further was it? In a few seconds, if they didn't make the fire-escape, her coworkers were going to get a front-row seat to something they were really not ready for. He could see her reaching for a doorknob, while he also could tell she was fighting to restrain something. The doornob made a creaking sound as she inadvertantly bent it, moving through the door and into the fire escape. Once inside, Chris closed the door behind them and quickly dragged her down a flight, worried she was going to vocalize still well in earshot of her office-mates. 

When they stopped, she leaned into the wall behind. He could finally see the look on her face, the pure pleasure of the sernasa breaking through. "Ohh Chris, what is this?" Her hands went to her crotch in a very un-ladylike gesture as she momentarily bent at the waist. "Uhhnnnhh! It feels divine!" When she stood up straight, he could see she already stood a couple inches taller than him in her heels. She placed a hand against the wall, showing her disorientation. She looked down at Chris with surprise. "Chris what is... Uhnnnhhh, it feels so good!" 

She had no idea what was happening, but she knew where it was coming from. There was a warm swelling of pleasure unlike anything she'd ever felt coming from her crotch. She still had one hand sqeezed between her legs in an attempt to calm or control the feeling. Though she had no desire for it to stop. She was equally shocked looking down at Chris. How was she looking down at him? Chris was much taller than her, yet he seemed smaller by the moment. She felt one of her feet fall out from under as her heel broke, and looked down to see the straps on both of her shoes had somehow snapped. She awkwardly stepped off the broken soles, now barefoot next to Chris as he continued to look smaller in front of her. "Uhnnn Chris!" Another wave went through her as her hand clawed at the wall, wishing for something to hold onto.

Chris had seen this display countless times before at Goddess Resort, but somehow this was the most sexy it had ever been. Something about the danger, the way it almost happened right in her office; something about the way she hadn't expected it, and had no idea what was happening; and something about the way her normal clothing was straining and breaking as it progressed. Now barefoot on the concrete, he guessed her to be two inches taller than him and still growing. Her body strained at her blouse, the fabric stretched to gaping openings between the buttons. The hem was nowhere near her waist, as she had grown almost five inches already, with still more to go. He reached out for her arm, and she let it away from the wall hold his shoulder. "Suz, it'll be just a few seconds more. Just a few seconds more." 

She watched the top of his head crest into view. Was she getting taller? That was not possible. She would have to be six-foot-four to see over her boyfriend's head. Yet the impossible seemed to be happening with every moment. She heard several buttons on her blouse snap free, first one, then a few more. Then she heard her skirt tear at the hip. She felt fortunate not to be concerned about modesty, even if they were alone in the fire-escape. The pleasure waves running through her were slowly calming, as she looked down at a boyfriend she now towered over. Towered over! The top of his head hardly made it up to her chin. 

What had he said? Just a few more seconds? Did he know what was happening? When the sensation finally came to a stop, she was silent, looking down at Chris with a stunned lack of any understanding. "Suz, I think it's finished, let me explain. You see. I uhm. I went to this Resort about six months ago.."

She was standing there half naked and disheveled, her growth having damaged most of her clothing. Her shirt was gaped open; her bra was hanging loose but still oddly draped around her; and her skirt was torn and hanging low on her hips. "Chris! Am I taller than you?" She cut him off mid-sentence, looking down at herself, "I'm fucking huge. One minute we're having sex, the next minute I'm standing in the fire-escape, my clothes ripped off, fucking half-a-foot taller than you. And you KNOW what caused this? I'll say you have some explaining to do."

He was incredibly turned on, just as much by the sight of her as by her frustration. If he hadn't just come, he would have been already ready for her. He wasn't sure how to explain, but as he stood there he became increasingly concerned about being seen. There was nobody in the fire-escape, but that didn't mean there couldn't be. "I'll explain everything, but first we have to get out of here. Follow me and be quiet." He turned, expecting her to follow, hoping the Rashja would help him out. Her face looked to object, but she didn't. A moment later she was following along behind quietly, step after step down the stairs. He had to think. His car was in the parking garage. If they were lucky, they could get to it unseen, then figure out how to cover her up and get out of there. 

Sarah arrived at Wendel's executive floor on schedule, his assistant dutifully sitting at her desk as always. "Hello, I have an appointment with Wendel this afternoon." She had lost quite a bit of her original Goddess height, now down to little more than six-foot-ten. Worse, she'd been dying for him the entire time, wanting and wishing for him, and it had only been a day or so. They were feelings she didn't understand and couldn't explain.

Judy looked up at the towering Amazon with a hint of jealousy. Wendel had recently disclosed the secret of the Rashja to her, and she had responded with the same unfased decorum with which she handled all his eccentric affairs. In fact at first she didn't exactly believe him. She knew he wasn't the type to lie, but his explanation was simply too impossible to believe. Until he showed her. Seeing Kat and Sarah transformed dropped her jaw, as she felt for the first time Wendel had truly shocked her. 

Judy put the facts together quickly. Having just hired two high-class escorts, only to watch them stroll in and out of his office for two days as towering goddesses, she couldn't help but feel slighted. If she had known, she would have marched right in there in their place. She would have been a test-subject for their science research. She had served his every need for so long. Did it occur to him she might want to be involved, that she might like to be a towering Amazon? She visualized sneaking in when he was out, finding an obvious looking syringe, and injecting herself. God what it would be like. She almost had to snap herself out of her frustrated daydream. "Yes, yes, of course Miss Sarah. He's expecting you, go right in." 

As Sarah moved through the door, she could see Kat shockingly big and sprawled out on an oversize cushion, barely covered. She must have been over nine-feet-tall! Sarah felt a moment of jealousy as Wendel called out, "welcome, welcome. Come here my dear." He rose from his office desk, stepping closer to size her up. "We're still in quite short supply, but clearly we need to give you a boost. Now you see why we need to keep Derek motivated and focused. He's the key to our whole Rashja production." 

So near to Wendel she couldn't think about Derek. She couldn't think about Kat. She couldn't think about anything. She needed him, badly. Her body carried her closer to him almost on instinct. She ran her hand through his hair, pressing her body close, already doing her best to seduce him. At her current height, her still clothed tits were almost at his eye level, so she pulled his face into them. He seemed surprisingly unaffected as he chuckled, "that's interesting. I guess we really need to get you satisfied." 

He grasped her hand, leading her towards his office desk. He had read reports of the Rashja making Amazon's compliant, and was mentally taking notes of the experience. What he hadn't been told, is how much they needed, were driven, to get more Rashja. Normally such a beautiful woman, even a paid escort, was the object of desire. He wasn't used to the tables being turned and found the whole experience sexually empowering. "Take these off." He briefly tugged at her bottoms before slipping his own workout pants to the floor. 

Sarah was a bit confused by her own actions. Something deep inside her wanted him, for sure. However, she was a giver. She was used to captivating men with her body and her sexual charms. Wendel was suddenly treating her like a task, like a doll. Moreso, she didn't seem to care or object, she just wanted him. She wanted him to do whatever he wanted to. She slipped her bottoms off as he requested before sitting back on the desk. She made another attempt at enticing him, reaching her hand down to his half flaccid member. "Do you need me to warm you up?" 

"That'll certainly help get you what you want." She stroked him as he moved closer, still responding fairly slowly to her. He was already staring at her endowments, and she could see the familiar glimmer in his eye. He was not shy about reaching out to feel them, and she liked it. "Your tits are so gorgeous. Derek is a lucky I let him choose. Take this off, and squeeze them together for me." Some part of her recognized Wendel's actions, those of a john paying her for sex. Not at all like Derek. Derek enjoyed her. She briefly felt lucky Derek had picked her too. That is before this small part of her was shut away by the Rashja. It needed the Rashja, it needed Wendel. Her top was on the floor, and she held her tits in her hands, squeezing them together for him. He licked across his lips in a savoring gesture she understood. "Mmmm. One day soon I'm going to have to fuck those tits, they are so gorgeous. But for now, let's get you what you need." He maneuvered himself inside her, standing at the edge of the desk, gently pumping towards her. 

Wendel silently thanked the creators of the Rashja. He felt it some kind of pleasurably sinister twist that it had to be delivered via sex -- that the Amazon's would crave the Rashja so much. He leaned in, hugging his face close. She quickly took the hint, burying him in her tits as he pumped into her. Even at her smaller size, they were still so big. He had endulged himself with Kat like a kid at a candy store, and loved every minute of it. However, she Sarah was so different, plush with womanly curves, and he found the sensation of burying himself in her body very pleasurable. 

He had to remind himself this wasn't for pleasure. He was trying to give Sarah a dose of Rashja. She needed it to remain an Amazon Protector. Without it she'd return to her normal size in just a few more hours. He moved his body with urgency, enjoying her just enough to keep his excitement building. A few more thrusts, and he felt himself unload into her. She stayed close, letting him get every last bit he could spare into her. When he pulled free, she turned back against the desk waiting for it to happen. The warm feeling began immediately, pleasuring her unlike any climax could. It took a minute more for the sernasa to begin. That's what he told them it was called when they swelled. It was slow at first, then she felt it going faster. "Oooh yes," she vocalized a bit of the pleasure as she felt her ass sliding up against the edge of the desk.

Wendel watched her grow, wondering how much she'd get out of it. Their Rashja suppily was dangerously low, and he'd saved himself for most of the day to get her another proper dose. It seemed to be paying off as inch after inch was added to her frame. She slipped her butt onto the desk, and with eyes closed, silently braced against the sensations. Wendel watched patiently, feeling an exciting awe watching her sernasa in such close proximity. When it finally slowed to a stop, he gestured for her to stand. "Let's see if that was enough." Wendel was pleased as she stood, her tits rising up half over his head. He guessed that she was probably eight or ten inches taller now. Maybe seven-foot-six? He'd get the official number in his report. Her breasts seemed bigger too, and he did his best to suppress his interset as he looked up past them. "Excellent. Now, tell me about Derek. How are you taking care of him?" 

Even in the wake of her sernasa, Sarah felt a sliver of displeasure at his uninterested and matter of fact style. The Rashja pushed it away as it compelled her to comply, but she still felt it. "Since you left me to take care of him two days ago, I've given him oral sex three times, bathed him once, cooked him dinner twice, and let him..." She hoped that it was half her own sarcastic wit that caused the laundry-list response.

Wendel held up his hand to cut her off. "My mistake. I don't need to know exactly how you're taking care of him, just that you are. Remember, we need to keep him focused on the Rashja production. Keep pampering him, but not too much. I need him refreshed and working in the lab. Go ahead and get back to him now." 

Sarah pulled her clothes back on as quickly as she'd removed them. She couldn't wait to get back to Derek. The Rashja now willed it, but she liked him too, making her drive all the more powerful. She turned to Kat, nodding briefly to say goodby as she headed to the door. A moment later she was out of the room. 

Wendel had already made his way over to where Kat was lying on the special cushion he'd had made for her. She was still clothed in one of the same stretch outfits he'd had made special for the two of them. Despite how stunning her body was, even just two days later he was growing tired of the same boring clothing. Before he added too many more to the ranks of his Protectors, they would need some more attractive outfits, with more variation. He made a mental note. 

Kat didn't move, merely watching him intently as he approached. Being almost half-again larger than normal, her body looked like a statue, measuring in last at eight-foot-four. Lying on her side, the impression of being chiseled from marble was further encouraged by her incredibly deliberate pose. One arm held her head, and her legs were comfortably offset from one another in an all too perfect way. Her waist was wide enough to reach a comfortable seat height, so as Wendel reached her, he sat onto her hip facing her. Their positions allowed a comfortable, if unconventional, conversational distance as she spoke up. "You know if Sarah's not doing the job, I'm sure I could properly motivate Derek." Even as she remained relaxed, he noticed a little flicker in her eye, reminding him she could turn into a lioness at any moment. 

"I'm sure you could." Had Kat been this alluring before? Wendel was fascinated with everything about the Rashja. In the two days since he'd transformed them, it seemed she was always angling for another dose. He didn't mind it, as she was incredibly sexy, and was really starting to grow comfortable in her new skin. "It's only been two days. Besides, she's just there to make him comfortable. The science takes time, and I have full confidence in him." 

"I simply want to end the Rashja shortage. It would be a shame for me to be back to Sarah's size, don't you think? Except her tits of course." Her hand appeared and slid up her torso. "You seemed to really like them. Do you prefer them that big?" She placed her hand onto her clothed breast. "Or do you like them tight and firm like mine? It's okay, be honest." Sarah's outrageous curves made him want her as a plaything. However, Kat's athletic frame, sultry attitude, and Rashja infused stature commanded his attention figuratively and literally. In a world where he could have anything, do anything, afford anything, he found her sexual and physical superiority incredibly sexy. Even knowing the Rashja compelled her to his will, he found himself waiting for her to take the lead, hoping for it. Right now she just looked up at him, waiting an answer. It was their little game, and he tried his best to play it.

"They evoke a certain, reaction. I can't deny it." Kat slipped her hand into her top, the movement of her fingers seductively showing through the fabric. "It's more of a fascination really. Like an exotic car you have to drive, or a racehorse you have to ride just once." Her fingers reached and pressed at her nipple, shifting the fabric to expose several inches of the bottom curve of her breast. Wendel couldn't help but watch and admire, making no attempt to hide it. "You, my dear, are a wild animal, untamable. I'm rapt watching what you'll do next, never feeling fully safe or in control." 

She looked up at him as if considering his answer. "A thrill seeker. I suppose I would be too if I could buy and sell half the world before sundown." Really it seemed like she was just buying time as she fondled herself. "So it excites you then, knowing that I could snap you in half? The rush of danger." Her question obviously rhetorical, she removed her hand and pressed it to the floor. Like a greek goddess in motion, she lifted her head and shoulders away from the floor, propping herself up with one straight arm. 

They were almost eye-to-eye now, and her eye-contact made him miss where her other hand was going until it was too late. He felt her palm slip under his seat, lifting him off her as if he weighed no more than a gallon of milk. He reached for her shoulder to catch his balance. A moment later she was standing, effortlessly holding him in one hand as she walked towards the window. "What will you do with it all?" Mid-stride, her hand gripped around one of his thighs, leaving him sitting on her wrist and forearm, still steadying himself against her.

"You mean the Rashja? You know the answer to that my dear. The Amazon Protectorate." Kat seemed so controlled that her next move was a complete shock. She pressed her hand against the floor-to-ceiling glass of his office as if testing it, then with a calculated shove, she fractured a side of the panel. The safety lamination held the panel together even as it showed the spiderwebs of cracked glass. Her shove had freed one side from it's mounting, opening the room to the shocking chilled wind and noise of the outside. Wendel felt sudden fear of her unpredictability, as she calmly and methodically smashed her hand against the remaining edges of the glass until the entire pane was broken enough that the bulk of it fell free. All the while she had been carrying yet ignoring Wendel, demonstrating it was no impediment to the task at hand.

The window dispatched, Wendel felt her full attention fall on him. "No, I mean The World. What will you do with The World if we give it to you?" She walked right to the edge of the open section, her free hand falling on the steel that formerly held the top of the glass about twelve feet off the floor. In the process, Wendel felt himself cross the threshold, and grabbed around her shoulder with every bit of strength he could muster. He felt the wind buffeting him, the air open beneath him, and what moments ago had been playful was turned into gripping fear for his life. 

Kat's feet were inches from the edge, as she had absolutely no fear of falling. The Rashja gave her perfect precision, stability, strength. She felt like marble, carving through a soft malleable world. The steel beam's softness was apparent in hand, and she was careful not to squeeze and distort it. "Consider your answer carefully. What will you do if I don't drop you to your death?" She leaned herself out so she was hanging past the threshold, held in by her grip on the beam above. "I think I could even jump with you just to watch. I suspect I would survive the fall. Answer wisely. What will you do if I let you take over the world?"

Wendel's few options were rushing through his head. He thought the Rashja compelled them, and debated commanding her to bring him back inside. Only he didn't trust it. What if she wasn't bluffing? What if she thought him a tyrant and dropped him to his death? What if the Amazon's lost their free will, but not their justice? What if they wouldn't serve a tyrant? 

He wasn't a tyrant though. Not even close. He wanted to help people. He wanted the Amazons to help people. The Protectorate. To end needless suffering and war. He'd answer then, it was his only way out. He realized he had barely looked at her since she began dangling his life out the building window. When he caught her eyes, they had a fierce look of determination. He filled his lungs, preparing the voice he'd need to be heard over the buffeting wind. "I will make it better."

Kat looked him over as if considering his answer. Then slowly, she receded back into the safety of the building, Wendel still clutching onto her for dear life. She still carried him effortlessly on her forearm, showing no sign that holding his weight produced any strain. Only a few steps away from the window, the windy noise was gone and she was able to speak normally, "That will do. For now."

"Dr. Foley, our security team watching patron 113 sent us this footage fifteen minutes ago, what do you make of it?" Simon was at the board room table, having been woken up and called to this emergency meeting just minutes before. Cindy, their COO was across the table from him. Video images of his two board investors filled the far wall. The footage in question was running. He struggled to bring his groggy focus to bear on it. 

In the first clip, patron 113, Chris Rothchild, held his passenger car door open while a woman entered the car. The image was low-quality and heavily zoomed, obviously taken from far away. The imagery was skewed yellow from the heavily artificial indoor lighting. It looked to be an indoor parking garage. As the woman crossed behind Chris, she appeared several inches taller, though her feet were not in plain view. It also appeared the full front of her blouse was open. 

The clip cut to another scene. The same car, the same woman getting out. The shot was outdoors, with a multi-story building behind. It looked to be an alley or back entrance. Chris was holding the door open while she exited the car and quickly moved towards the door. The camera angle was less obstructed this time, and at the moment she walked past the man, the image froze. She was barefoot and visible head to toe this time. Her head an inch or two above the man in the footage, despite being mid-walking stride. She was obviously taller. 

The still image of the woman walking close-by shrank and shifted to the side. Two face-shots appeared. One labeled 'Patron 113 - Chris Rothchild', the other labeled 'Suzanne Oliver'. A variety of personal details filled tables next to their photos. Highlighted in red lettering were their heights, the woman was listed as 5'7" while patron-113 was listed as 5'11". Finally, a diagram overlay was progressively added to the still image. It attempted to estimate her actual height by adjusting for the geometry her legs were in mid-stride. The geometry calculations yielded a result, approximately six-foot-four inches, which after a few more calculations, indicated a 13% height delta. 

Simon was still a bit foggy from having been woken up. His first conclusion was that the elaborate quality of the video production and the timestamps indicating that all of this had happened less than an hour earlier demonstrated convincingly that this security detail was worth the ridiculously high pricetag he had balked at earlier. Then his thoughts turned to the imagry, vocalizing as he considered it, "I see. Our security team picked up footage of patron 113 and what they believe is the result of a sernasa event. Experimental evidence showed that patron-113's Rashja levels did not fall-off as expected, and this is in-fact the scenerio we were watching for," he saw the wry look on the board member's faces and corrected his language, "the scenerio we were concerned about. So they're fairly convinced the woman in the photo is this," Simon pauses as his eyes searched the screen for her name on the dossier image, "this Suzanne Oliver?" 

Reed spoke up first. "Dr. Foley. We did not wake you in the middle of the night for your conjecture on the identity of the woman in the photo." Reed appeared to press something on a computer in front of him, and the screen shifted to a collection of photos of Patron-113 and the female subject. Many of of the shots offered quite clear views of their faces, and they were beyond any doubt the same people in the video footage. In a couple of the photos they appeared to be close and intimate enough that it seemed obvious the two were in some type of relationship. "This excellent security team your assistant set up has done a perfect job of making the facts clear. What we'd like to know, is what do we need to do about it? Or more to the point, is my investment at risk, and how are we going to mitigate that risk?"

Just as Simon was about to respond, he was interrupted by a husky low voice that seldom offered much in their board meetings. By far their largest investor, Gerard Lutont, seldom spoke, but when he did, everyone listened. He was a burley man with a beard. "It seems we all under-estimated this anomaly with patron-113." His words were paced slowly, lending them an unusual weight as his pause hung in the air. "However, we should not over-react. When we began this project, we felt that publicity was an inevitable eventuality. This may simply step up our timetable." Gerard opened a manilla folder in his lap. "I've reviewed his patient file, and his psych profile seems quite stable. On the footage, he seems to be taking steps to keep this situation private, sneaking this woman out of her office and into his home. Let us merely prepare for press-contact, watch and wait. Afterall, the island resort is quite... isolated." 

During Gerard's commentary Reed had grown visibly agitated. He obviously wanted to interrupt, but something about Gerard's commanding voice and presence kept him at bay. Now that he was finished, Reed's pent up energy spilled out. He stood, his voice loud and unnerved. "Gerard. I have an incredible amount of money tied up in this investment. Simon, I want your team immediately focused on a scientific solution to this situation with patron-113. In the meantime, we should bring him back to the island immediately. There is no way we can sit and wait and leave this to chance. Dispatch a team..." 

Gerard somehow interrupted without interrupting. He hadn't said a word when his subtle on-screen gesture cut Reed off mid-sentence. A moment later, after everyone had pause to prepare, he spoke. "Dispatch a team and what Mr. Kendrick? Kidnap the man? We are not a government. We do not possess an army. This is not a war. He is a free man. Perhaps in your ivory tower you beileve it reasonable to buy yourself out of trouble whatever the cost. I however, am a man of morals. We will not violate Mr. Rothchild's rights." Reed was again visibly agitated on the monitor. If part of him agreed with what was being said, he hid it well. Gerard on the other hand, was completely calm. He somehow settled even further back into his chair, his shoulders shrugging. "Waiting is exactly what we will do."

The discussion was far from over, and Simon could tell it would be a long night.

Only a short time earlier, half way across the world, Chris Rothchild held the door for Suzanne as she stepped into his third floor apartment. She ducked under the seven-foot door frame, finding it uncomfortably close even though she was still a smidge more than six inches from hitting it. 

After Chris finished locking the door behind him, he turned to see Suzanne striking what might have been an incredibly inviting pose under other circumstances. Her hands were on her hips; her blouse still open down the front; her skirt torn and skewed sideways, riding a little too low. Standing several inches taller than him, her presence was as commanding as it was sexy. His eyes couldn't help stare for a moment at the way her tits looked plump in a way they never had before, fighting to escape her now undersize bra. It was all the product of her recent sernasa. However, the sexiness turned to scorn when he met her eyes. "You mister, have some explaining to do." 

Chris felt his soul sink, his body wilt. This is exactly what he had tried to avoid -- his secret unraveling. His trip to the resort was a private fantasy turned reality, and now it was losing containment. He'd thought this through and could see the expected outcome flash through his mind. He'd try to lie, try to keep her from over-reacting. It wouldn't work. Sernasa was almost too much to believe even in the confines of the resort, with visitors seeking it out. Here in the real world, with real people, it was beyond reason. She'd start to storm out. Then he'd have to decide whether or not use the Rashja to force her to stay. Either way he'd lose. She wasn't an anonymous fantasy puppet. She was a real person, in his real life. If he forced her to stay, she'd eventually hate him. If she left, she'd show up on the news, her own body a corroboration for the unbelievable story. He'd lose his job. He would never lead a normal life again. 

No. He couldn't let it happen. His life, his sanity, was too important. He would save himself. His demeanor changed from sunken and resigned to almost combative, preparing to go to war to keep his life in tact. "Please," he gestured his hand to the couch. "Please sit down." Her eyes remained scorned. Chris remained standing. "You are not to leave this apartment, or let anyone see you, until you are back to normal. You are not to tell anyone this happened." He knew the Rashja would make her comply. He just hated doing it. It made him already feel distant. He looked at her not as a girl he had affection for, but as a danger to his life he had to control.

Suzanne's mood and expression shifted from scorn to animosity. She stood and walked towards Chris in a huff, mouthing off as she passed him. "You have no right to talk to me that way." Two more of her large strides and she was at the door. Her hand went to the handle and acted as if to pull it, only nothing happened. She fiddled with the locks, trying to unlock the handle, only nothing would budge. She couldn't even turn the simple deadbolt. She turned around towards Chris. "What the hell is going on?! You can't lock me in here!" 

He knew this was coming. She would hate him for it, but he had to keep his life in tact. He had to keep her life in tact. "Suzanne, it's for your own good. Please, be calm, and sit back down." His hand gestured again for the couch. He could see her huff in angst, even as her breathing slowed and she calmly walked past him back to her seat. She eyed him with frustration the whole time. He was not sure where to start now that reality was slapping him in the face. "Just a moment," he called to her as he left towards his bedroom. He grabbed a t-shirt from his dresser, and a pair of boxer shorts. 

A moment later Suzanne took the clothes from him. Her years as an exotic dancer left her completely desensitized to her own nakedness. So it took an offered outfor for her to realize her open blouse and tits on display might not be appropriate for where this conversation was going. As she pulled her damaged clothing free and slipped the t-shirt over her head, she wondered, where was this going?. She really liked Chris. A minute ago she had been quite angered, though she couldn't remember exactly why she had snapped at him. She set the boxers down on her lap. Even though her skirt was torn, it was still covering her just fine. "I just want to know what's going on Chris. What's going on?" She felt very calm now, and as her words broke she caught a scent in the air she hadn't noticed. She couldn't say why, but she knew it was coming from Chris.

Her calm, almost helpless, plea broke through to his core and the guilt surged out. The truth then. She deserved it. "It all started six months ago when I visited a ... retreat." He realized that even in offering the truth, he didn't need to explain everything. "They are working with some rediscovered ancient ritual herbs, and your ... situation ... is a result of that. You'll be back to normal sometime tomorrow. After that you can..." Chris hadn't even been sure how much he cared for Suzanne, but he felt a bit of sadness well up as he prepared to let her go. "After that you can leave and you'll never have to see me again. You can forget about this whole thing." 

Suzanne was taken completely off guard by his words, she felt her face contort into surprise even before she knew how to respond. Where did that come from? She had no intention of never seeing him again. Even now she found herself occasionally eyeing between his pants, saddened that the bulge caused by her previous state of undress had died away. It made her regret putting the t-shirt on. "Look, I was a little ticked off at your language a minute ago, but I," she felt foreign emotions. Loss? Affection? "Are you breaking up with me?" She felt wetness curl from her eye, a tear. She hadn't cried for a boy. Ever. These were emotions she didn't think she had. A sad moment, mixed with that sweet smell. What is that scent?

"No no. I just. Suz. This wasn't supposed to stay with me. It was supposed to wear off. They told me it would wear off." Chris collapsed on the couch an arms length from her, his head between his hands. "I should never have let this happen to you. You're coworkers could have seen it. You could have lost your job, or worse." He looked over to her. Wow, she was beautiful. Her face was no longer scorned, but filled with a softness, a tenderness. Tenderness, and a bit of sexy desire. Truthfully it was always there, but he didn't always look for it. "I understand if you don't want to see me again." His head turned down again, staring at the boxers in her lap.

Suzanne could see the guilt heavy in his eyes and set a hand against his cheek. "Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere. Literally for the next twenty four hours apparently," she waited for his chuckle. "Chris, really, I'm not a girl who gets attached to anything, and I find myself quite ... attached... to you." She still wasn't sure what that meant, but it certainly meant something. "I can see you feel guilty." She could no longer smell the scent, but instead felt it permeating her. She slid herself closer to him on the couch, reminding them both that she was somehow now several inches taller than him. "I admit this whole situation is pretty unbelievable, but it's not like you did this on purpose, did you?" He shook his head. "And I'm not in any danger am I?" He shook his head again. "Then please, it's okay." 

This was not part of Chris' plan. He was going to compel her not to ruin their lives, and then put this all in the past. Her softness was drawing him in, breaking down the barrier he tried to put up. Feelings he didn't realize were there started to surface. His eyes were wet with sadness, and when he looked up, her face filled with sympathy. "Please Suzanne. You don't understand." His voice was stacatto, his words flowing with an urgent pace. He wouldn't let himself stop. It's as if he had to blurt out the truth while he had the nerve. "I don't want to lie, but you wouldn't accept the truth. Nobody would. At least not when the Rashja is gone. Trust me. This isn't even you. You probably think you want me right now, but that's just the Rashja. Just like at the resort. It's not real. It's all just some crazy stupid..." His breath died, and once it did, he couldn't start again.

Suzanne could see it in his eyes now. It wasn't guilt. It was shame. She thought of the shame her family tried to lay on her for making money as a dancer. The shame some patrons irionically tried to lay on her too. It was an emotion that she understood well, but was simultaneously dead to her. She didn't believe in shame. She believed in life. She wanted to share that with him, to free him. Yet even the thought brought that terrible emotion back to her. Why hadn't she told him? Was she still, after all these years, ashamed? Was her family right? No, her mind rang out in a shout. "Chris, we all have things we keep private. We have reasons. We share when we're ready." Was she ready to tell him? Was he ready to hear it? Maybe it was time?

Suzanne's thoughts shifted back to his admission. What was he hinting at? 'You probably think you want me right now,' boy was he right about that one. If she thought it would help, she'd already be on top of him. In fact, once she thought of it, she had a hard time getting it out of her head. But didn't she always want him? 'It's not real. Just like at the resort.' Suzanne wasn't a lawyer for no reason. The hints started to click together like cogs in her mind, forming a little machine that produced the truth. 

"So you went on a trip, but not to just a hotel." Chris' head turned back down, shaking back and forth slowly, not as a denial but as an admission. "A place where they use herbs. Herbs that they say make women want you." Chris nodded his head. Suddenly this whole situation seemed simpler. She had spent quite a bit of time acting like she wanted men, all for an herb called money. "Chris, please, I understand, believe me I understand." Only his head was still hid down in guilt. Somehow she felt like it was time. As if her admission would wash away his shame. "I want you to know something about me. Before law. Before law school. I was a dancer, a stripper."

Chris felt like he was tied to the tracks, watching a speeding train prepare to mow him down. He had already said too much. She was putting together the facts. Just a few moments more and she would see it. She would see through him and want nothing to do with him. What was he thinking? He was mildly surprised at her admission. Not that he hadn't suspected as much, especially after meeting her friends. He was still surprised to hear her admit it. It was a nice gesture, trying to make him feel better, but it only made him feel worse. He couldn't reciprocate. He was shaking his head again when she continued. "So you went to a sex resort then? Is that what you're ashamed of?" An image flashed through his mind. Vanessa, raven black hair, fourteen feet tall, carrying him smashed up against a boob half as big as his body. She didn't understand, she couldn't understand.

He felt both her hands on his face now, as she pulled his eyes up to hers. "Chris. Look at me. I wanted something real, and I found you. Don't you see, this is another part of what's right about us. This doesn't even phase me. Paid sex. Body fetish. Orgy. I've seen it all. I left that life, but I understand it. Sex is fun. If you can't give it up, I understand. If you want, I'll join you. I'll even show them a thing or two." Her face had a sexy determination about it, and Chris couldn't help but let out a little laugh at her enthusiasm. 

Suzanne knew she hadn't broken through. His small moment of levity wasn't enough. She racked her brain wondering what could be so bad. Her lawyer skills again coming to bear, she tried to walk in his footsteps. Imagined scenes of a sex resort came all to easily for her. Did he have a terrible STD? He said she wasn't in danger. Did he care for someone he met? Maybe he got someone pregnant? Maybe he had a child? She knew many girls who were knocked up and forgotten -- that was shameful. Admitting it was not. 

She realized it was a bit hard to concentrate with Chris so near. Some part of her wanted to ravage him right here and now. Maybe the herbs were real, maybe they weren't pretending. She thought back to how she had to have him in her office. Why did she even do it? It did seem quite uncharacteristic for her, to lose control of her desires. To make him come into her at the last moment. But that feeling, it was incredible. Then Chris rushed her to the stairwell. Something clicked in her mind. 

"Wait. You knew it was coming. Back at the office, you knew the growth was coming." She cocked her head in a gesture of curious surprise. As soon as she put the pieces together, it was already flowing out of her mouth in a stream of thought. "This sex resort isn't just about sex then, it's about this. What did you call it? This, sernasa?" In her years as an escort, she had seen all matter of fetish. She thought she had seen most everything, but she had to admit, this was a new one. "That's it? You think I won't want to see you because you like women to be taller than you?" If this was all he was ashamed of, he didn't know her at all. She began laughing. 

The laughing was more than he could take. Chris stood. "Look, I'm just going to go. You can stay here until tomorrow and when you're back to normal, you can let yourself out." He turned towards the door, but Suzanne's hand grabbed his wrist. It was an impossibly firm grip, infused by the Rashja. He knew he couldn't break free. What was she doing? The laughing was embarrassment enough. He couldn't even bring himself to look at her.

"Chris. Please." Suzanne could see her mistake. She had laughed because of how unimportant and silly it all seemed, but her laughter had come off all wrong. She had to fix it. "I don't care. If that's all it is, I don't care. I want to be with you." She was glad he wasn't resisting her grip. "Is there something else? If so, I wish you would just tell me." His head shook, and he tenatively looked back at her. 

She made to sure keep the most sincere expression she could as she repeated herself. "I don't care, Chris. I want you. Please stay." She gave his wrist the gentlest pull and he came towards her like a ragdoll. She was still seated, and moment later her arms were around his body in a hug, her face lying against his chest. She felt his hands wrap around her head and squeeze. She just held on and let the sadness lift. They both did.

Wendel waved the next candidate into the small office he was using for interviews. All afternoon he'd been screening for his new Protectorate. At the moment, he was reconsidering his strategy. 

The fact that sernasa required the Rashja to be delivered via sex was not only an awkward job requirement, but one with legal complications. To side-step the issue, he had decided to source early recruits from sex related professions. He figured this would streamline the initial transition, and it had certainly worked well for the first two Amazon Protectors, Sarah and Kat. It also had the added bonus of bringing in extremely attractive candidates. 

Today, however, his strategy was not fairing so well. The women made him wonder if they were the product of a grand science experiment in single trait over-selection sampling, most of the candidates having more fiery beauty than common sense or personal presence. 

The next prospect looked to be no exception. When she entered, it was obvious she had ignored his paragraph on appropriate attire. Brunette, medium height, her body slightly more tight than curvy. She was wearing a one piece black dress that was cut to show off absolutely everything. The bottom hem was barely low enough to be considered even a mini-skirt; and the chest was opened up with mock-laces, showing off not just cleavage, but the inside hemisphere of each of her admittedly perfect breasts. He had waved off more than one candidate immediately for failing to dress casually as requested, but this one was incredibly attractive, even among women paid for their beauty. 

"Please have a seat. Gia is it?" The girl nodded and sat on the edge of the chair, her legs swung in his direction. As he flipped through her file, she fidgeted on her chair, drawing his attention like a lit firecracker that was about to go bang. With such a short dress, it was obvious even a small move of her legs would give him a show. She perked up when he focused his full attention back on her. "We require our employees to be reliable. It says here you have a volatile relationship with a past boyfriend? Multiple domestic noise complaints from your neighbors, and some kind of altercation. Would you care to explain?" The file said much more than that. He wanted to see her reaction. 

Her face registered surprise. "I didn't write that," her voice a bit defensive. "Are you sure you have the right application? Besides, what does it matter? I thought this was for some kind of sexy security gig." She reached into her bag, and pulled out a set of real looking metal handcuffs. She stood up, spread legged in front of the desk and reached for the file in Wendel's hands. "How about you put this down and conduct a proper interview." The day had been filled with antics like this, and Wendel was becoming accustomed to it. He had guessed that the lucrative compensation posted for the job brought out the a-list performances. Wendel let the file go, and she set her handcuffs on it like a paperweight. 

Gia moved like a cat, quickly climbing into the desk, propping on all fours, face to face with Wendel. He did his best to ignore her antics and continue the interview. "This position requires discretion and involves a position of authority, so we need candidates who are calm under pressure." She gracefully crawled forward, bracing on her arms she swung her legs out and sat on the edge of the desk nearest him. They quality of her movement was very gymnastic. Her hands on the desk prevented a clear view, but she was clearly not wearing anything under her dress. 

She pursed her lips, and dragged a finger against his cheek. "Are you going to be calm, when you feel the pressure of my cunt squeezing down on your cock?" Even among the select participants of the day's interviews, Gia was extremely aggressive and sexual. Even trying to keep his cool for the interview, Wendel showed subtle signs of being drawn in. Still, he had an interview to conduct. He slid his chair back, reached into a drawer and pulled out his mock pistol. Wendel showed his hand, lifted the gun prop, aimed it at her, and cocked it. She didn't even flinch. "What would you do if this was a real gun?"

"That depends." She reasserted her two-handed grip on the edge of the desk, and in a slow and controlled motion lifted herself off the surface. As she rolled her hips forward, she set herself back onto the desk in a flat-split. She had held her eyes on Wendel the entire time, but he realized he was distracted by the exposure as fabric was pushed up towards her hips. "What do you intend to do with it?" 

"I intend to shoot you with it." He gestured his gun and eyes to her right, "and then I intend to shoot the person you're protecting right there." Wendel had tried this routine several times during the day. It was intended to assess their self-defense instincts, not their role play. The ones putting on a sexy show like Gia generally toned it down about now.

"I could take you down. I assume I have a weapon of some sort? A gun?" Wendel nodded in response. She held one hand like a gun, bracing it as she pointed it at the ceiling. "So boring though, don't you think?" She returned her hands to the desk, behind her this time. "Wouldn't you rather I just take you?" Her legs slid down off the desk. Her hands came to the bottom of her dress, not to cover up, but to neatly pull and fold it waist high. Wendel admired how incredibly sexy she was as she took a step towards him. 

Then he realized his mistake. Her eyes had been locked on him, but in a smooth motion, she struck his arm, grabbed the top of the gun and turned it it to the outside. The maneuver was quick, and if the strike wasn't painful, the way his hand and fingers were twisted certainly was. He heard the click of the prop-trigger going off mid-motion, and then the sound of the gun hitting the floor. 

Her motion continued, and he winced in pain as she twisted his hand. Her knees quickly landed between his legs on the seat, too close for comfort. Somehow she still had his hand twisted backwards. "Stop. Stop. That's quite enough." She leaned over him, his face filling with her dark hair. Wendel tried to raise his opposite hand, but it woudn't budge. He felt something pinning it to the chair arm. His mind finally recognized the sound he had just heard. It was a plastic ziptie. She stopped twisting his opposite hand, but to his dismay it was now handcuffed to the opposite chair arm. 

Her flurry of motion had ended, as she turned and sat into his lap, her head tilting back over his shoulder to offer a view down the front of what little there was of her dress. She let out a sultry whisper, "Ohh, that's not nearly enough yet." She gyrated herself into his crotch. "It'll be enough either when I make you come, you give me the job, or both."

"That's right, I'll be out of the office for 48 hours. Please courier over a laptop and the Pikens brief. Thanks. No, no. It's nothing, just a 48 hour flu. Yes, Judy. Thanks." Suzanne set down the phone, and sank back into the couch. Chris was out on a grocery run. If she was going to be held up in his apartment for a day or two, she's suggested they might need more than his typical over-supply of Pink Ice Vodka and assorted snacks. 

Looking around, the feeling of being trusted there alone warred with her curious desire to peek and pry at everything. Curiosity won. As she stood up, however, she was caught off-guard by the dramatic sound of her skirt ripping. "Oops," she exclaimed to herself. The fabric floated to the floor, the previously small tear elongated enough to split the item in two. She didn't even feel the strain, and had forgotten how careful she was being to avoid tearing it earlier. 

She felt momentary excitement at an actual excuse to rummage through Chris' clothes until she remembered the boxers he had brought her. She snatched them up off the couch and slipped them on, finding them snug around her hips in a way she hadn't expected, with pleats bunching above and below. They looked positively silly. "Maybe these don't fit after all," she reasoned out-loud. She made her way to Chris' bedroom closet. Certainly he would have some exercize shorts, or sweats that would fit better than this. 

What happened next caught her so off guard it seemed to occur in slow-motion. She reached her hand for the closet door knob, and as she pulled, she heard an uneasy cracking sound as the door came towards her at a very odd angle. Her mouth simultaneously came open in surprise as she saw the upper door hinge tear away from the wall at an odd angle, the screws slightly exposed. She stopped opening the door, but in her surprise she had squeezed down hard on the handle, and somehow it felt soft in her hand. "What the hell!" She released her grip and put her hands up, afraid to continue the damage she had obviously done to the door. 

With a little crunch, the door settled at a funny angle, hanging from both hinges despite them being half torn out of the frame. Suzanne stood looking at the door in disbelief. The door handle itself was also sitting at an odd angle, having torn into the wood. The near side of the handle was smushed, like someone had squeezed it into a strangely shaped vice. Had she done that? After a minute or two, curiosity got the better of her. She reached out for the handle and squeezed, a little at first, then harder, until she could feel and see the metal handle deform in her hand. She yanked her hand away with surprise. "What the!"

She carefully, daintily stepped back and gingerly set herself on the bed. The gears of her mind turned over today's strange events and her view of the twisted door, unable to put together any reasonable explanation for what was going on. She also now felt a tinge of guilt at having mangled her boyfriend's closet door, even though she was pretty sure this was more his fault than hers. She sat, puzzling and staring at the mangled door. 

--

Chris propped the bags between himself and the door as he turned the key in the lock, almost sending them tumbling when the door opened. "Suz?" Locks clicked closed behind him as he headed towards the kitchen. He noticed Suzanne's skirt resting on the couch, obviously without her in it. "Suzanne?" 

OJ, Milk, and a few other essentials went into the fridge, along with a salmon steak and some greens for the dinner he planned to cook tonight. He knew the Rashja infusion eventually replaced an appetite for normal food, but he wasn't sure how quickly that transition occurred. The salmon steak was big enough for both of them. By the time he finished putting the dry groceries away, he still hadn't heard a peep from Suzanne. 

For a moment he worried she might have left, cringing at the thought that he would be the cause of an Amazon walking around in the real world. His mind conjured an image of Suzanne towering next to a traffic light. However, his mind was indulging more than predicting. She was only about six-foot-three, maybe six-foot-four. Tall for certain, but not abnormal, and certainly not traffic stopping. Unless someone recognized her, she'd merely be taken for a female athlete. Plus, he had willed her not to leave the apartment.

Chris concluded she must still be in the apartment. He didn't hear the shower running. She was probably napping. He set the empty grocery bags in his neat stash under the sink, and headed for the bedroom. 

Suzanne was still sitting on the bed speechless. She wasn't sure how much time had passed since she half pulled his closet door off the hinges, but now she felt the seconds tick by. She smelled his scent the moment he opened the apartment door, possibly sooner. Part of her wanted to run to him and take him the instant she knew he was near. The other part was worried. If she could accidentally crush a metal door handle, what would she do to Chris? She forced herself to stay put. It was tough enough before he strolled into the room. Now it seemed impossible.

"Ohh hey Suz, there you are." She held out her hand for him to stop, not able to find the words to explain. Chris looked around the room and quickly noticed the damaged closet door. It only took a few moments to add it up and realize what had happened. "Whoops. I guess I forgot to mention that." Chris thought of his resort orientation and realized the women probably received a full explanation of the entire process. That would explain why none of them ever seemed surprised about the fantastical effects of the sernasa. He wondered how much more he should tell her. 

Her face flashed a challenging smirk. "Yeah. I think you forgot to mention a few things." Like how I can smell you from the other room. "I guess you're not upset at the accidental redecorating then?" 

Chris shook his head and laughed. "No no. That one's my fault. At the resort they have a little trick to make this easier. Suzanne, I will you not to accidentally damage or destroy any more stuff around the house." Even when wearing mis-fitting boxers and a t-shirt, she somehow looked sexy. He took another step, and her hand went up immediately to object, her whole frame bracing against his approach. As if he was going to hurt her. But he wouldn't. Ohh no, she thought she would hurt him. "Suz, don't worry. You won't hurt me. The Rashja won't let you. Ohh, and I will you not to hurt anyone else either. It's okay, please relax." 

As soon as he spoke the words, she felt herself calm, her guard lifting. Which was a good thing, because his scent was getting to her. When he finally stepped in close, she tucked against and sniffed deeply at the base of his neck. She didn't know if her desire for him was real, or fueled by the scent and this mystical 'herb' from the resort. She also didn't care. She knew she possessed the talent to make men weak with desire. What she didn't know was that the Rashja now possessed it too. It wanted him, and it wanted him now.

"You know Christopher, there are a few things *I* may have forgotten to mention too." She took his head in her hands, slowly bringing their lips together. Gently at first. Not a kiss, just the hint of a kiss. Then her teeth, just a little against his skin. She kept it slow, drawing it out, nibbling at him, coaxing him into it... or rather acting as if he needed coaxing. She could feel him trying, trying to progress. She held his urges at bay, gently sucking his bottom lip, then finally, she devoured him. Thrusting her tongue into his mouth in a fiercely unexpected move, dancing it around before retreating and cutting him off just when he wanted it most. 

Even as Chris felt lips tear away, her embrace held him firmly. Her legs straddled around him, and he was all too aware of his budding erection pressing into her crotch as she spoke again. "For example, I've been holding back. Alot." She seductively arched, seemingly making an effort to rub every inch of her tits against his chest. When their eyes connected again, it was only for a moment before his attention fell on her lips, silently mouthing the word once more, "alot." 

She abruptly pulled in close, hands slipping up the back of his shirt, head alongside his, treating him to the passionate sound of her breath before she whispered. "Most men can't handle me. One time in bed, and I own them." Her hands were moving softly against his back, caressing to fill the pauses in her seduction. "Then I'm done with them, and they just won't leave me alone." Her face backed into his view, her eyes piercing through him, "but you, you're different. I really like you Chris. I want to own you." His mind held the phrase, shocked, excited, frightened. "Help me with this?" She held her hands playfully over her head, and as quickly as her dark confidence showed itself, it seemed to melt away. 

Chris had the shirt halfway off her before he even thought to do it. Her perfect naked breasts revealing into view pushed his body further into undeniable reaction. Then his conscience caught him. Wasn't this what he was trying to avoid? It had only been a few hours since she jumped him in her office, getting them into this mess. He had to smuggle her out just to avoid her being seen. He brought her here to hide the Rashja from the world, not flaunt it. Not half an hour later, she was already angling for more. 

Chris, on the other hand, was conflicted. The part of him throbbing and pressed up against her was ready to re-live his resort fantasy right here, right now, yet he felt responsibility holding him back. A responsibility to contain this; a responsibility to contain the Rashja; a responsibility to contain whatever part of his private desire was still private. "Suz. I don't think we should. You're already stuck here until this wears off. Let's not make it worse." The excuse felt as bad as it sounded.

Suzanne was undeterred, as she set her arms on his shoulders. The drama in her mock-pouty expression showed she had no intention of stopping her advances. "Poor Chris. Your ex-stripper girlfriend wants to fuck your brains out. I think I can hear the violins playing." She desperately wanted to take action, to get him inside her, but something was stopping her. When she thought to move, her limbs were heavy, sluggish. She felt drunk, herself but not herself, as she struggled to pull close to him again. Was she not willing to defy him? Did she care that much? 

Suzanne might not have been consciously aware of what was stopping her, but the Rashja knew. It also knew what it wanted, and it was going to do everything it could to get it. "You don't want this to wear off." Her voice was raspy, just above a whisper in his ear. "Don't you see? I don't have to hold back anymore and you don't either. You can tell me about this little fetish of yours. Or I can make it up as I go along. I'm very good at satisfying male desires. You want to give me more." 

The trouble is, she was right. Chris did want to give her more. He'd been wanting this all along, avoiding it, yet wanting it. He thought of how sexy she looked after the sernasa, looking down at him from a few inches above. He couldn't stop himself from imagining her taller still, as if it had happened, towering over him in the stairwell. Chris felt his resolve getting weaker, her offer more tempting by the moment. 

Her cheek was against his, her arms draped over his shoulder. "I want you so badly right now, Chris." He recalled his conjured image of her standing next to a stoplight, letting it excite him. He could let it happen right now. What was stopping him? His hands held her, and beyond his better judgement were working themselves upwards, hungry to to feel her. His hands caressed the curve of her breast, and he felt her heavy exhale against his skin. "Uhhh, yes. Tell me you want me." 

She ran her hands into his hair and gently squeezed their heads together. There was a bit of whine in her voice now. "Say it Chris. Tell me you want me." Her whole body was aching and moving now. She felt his hands move to the front of her breasts, fingers flicking the nipples as they passed. She wanted him so badly, she was going to crawl out of her skin. She pressed and slowly dragged her tongue near his ear. "Say it." 

Chris knew what he was doing, or at least some part of him did. The only thing holding her at bay was the Rashja. His will. The sernasa had already made her strong enough to crush metal with her bare hands. There is no way he could physically stop her, yet he knew she wouldn't defy him. At the moment, however, he couldn't remember why he was resisting. What man would turn down his own personal sex goddess? In his own home? 

He leaned away to face her. "You have to keep this a secret." She nodded as he continued, "this whole thing. The Rashja, the sernasa, you can't show anyone. You can't tell anyone." She nodded again. Not really in response, but in expectation of him saying the words that would free her. The words that would get her what she wanted. 

Just as he looked to be about to set her free, the doorbell rang, startling them both. She let out a frustrated groan and responded to the startled look on his face, "It's the courier. He's dropping off my laptop."

It took a few minutes for Wendel to shake himself out of the frenzy Gia had worked him into. Of course he had hired her, as much for her self-defense training as for her other talents. In fact, he considered starting her employment right in the interview, letting her follow through on her threat. However, it would be hasty, and Rashja was still at a premium. He massaged his fingers, still store from when she twisted the gun free, and checked his wrist, slightly abraded where the plastic tie had cuffed his hand. Hardly noticable. When he felt composed, he picked the next folder off the stack of applicants. 

Immediatly after opening the folder, he pushed the button on his intercom. "Jane, please come in here. Now." She was staging applications far down the hall, so it took a minute for her to arrive. The distance was a precaution he felt would give him some additional privacy for the interviews. Something it turned out was much needed. When she finally entered, she had a silly smirk that telegraphed she knew exactly why she was being called in. He tossed the folder across the desk towards her. "What's the meaning of this?" The application in the folder was one Jane had submitted for herself. 

It's not that he hadn't considered having his assistant join the Protectorate. In some ways, it would be quite convenient. She wasn't anywhere near as attractive as the sexy girls who had flowed through the door today. She was merely pretty, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was the Rashja infusion process. Judy was part of Wendel's real-world, the business world, the world where you didn't bed your assistant, at least not as part of her job description. He previously decided he'd offer it to only once they had found another method to deliver the Rashja. 

"Mr. Varden. Is it really so surprising? Since I took this job, I've been flown around the world on your private jets, attended dinners with royalty as your attache, and seen things I never knew existed -- all just as you promised. It's been truly amazing." She sat, pausing. "At the same time, I've become desensitized to it all. I've learned to expect the un-expected. I watch you buy and sell multi-million dollar companies like it's a game of chess, and multi-million dollar houses like they are matchbox cars. When you asked for two women matching a very precise, and suggestive, list of specifications, I assumed what anyone would. I think you tried to tell me what was coming, but I didn't believe you. Until I saw them. Transformed.

"At first i was simply shocked. Then all I could think was, why didn't I walk through those doors that day? Why wasn't it me? When you asked me to find more candidates, I realized this was my chance. Is it really so surprising that I'd want what they have? Please Mr. Varden. Interview me. Reject me if you have to, but I want a shot at it. I want.." Wendel held up his hand cutting her off mid-sentence.

"Judy. Please understand, this is a very specific job with a very specific set of requirements, some of which can be quite, demanding." He picked up the file, and flipped a few pages. He looked at the sexual background section, and noted her very 'normal' answers. Several past monogamous partners. No current boyfriend. Her take on sex in the workplace, "a bad personal decision, a bad career move, or both." He shook his head. "Judy. It's not that I don't want you in the Protectorate. I do. It's just, not time." He lamented saying it. 

Her head dropped ever so slightly, showing her disappointment. "I was hoping for an interview. Just to be treated like everyone else, but I can see you've made up your mind." Wendel felt a tinge of an uncommon emotion, was it guilt? Judy had been his right hand for years now. She knew every detail, every dirty secret in his life, and she handled them all with decorum. How could he not be straight with her about this? 

"Judy, I'm going to be entirely straight with you. I can see you want to be involved, but at what cost? How far are you willing to go? It is not merely a job, it's a lifestyle. The Protectorate requires total commitment of your mind and body." Even trying to be straight he found himself falling short of anything that would sound like court-worthy sexual harassment. Her expression merely peaked up with curiosity. "The transformation, the sernasa we call it, is caused by a substance called the Rashja. The only effective dosing mechanism we have today, the ONLY mechanism that works, is sex." He paused, staring stoicly at her to gague her reaction. Her expression shifted from curiosity to surprise, then shock, as her jaw slowly fell open. He let the seriousness of what he was saying set in for another moment.

"I am dead serious. This is not a ploy. This is the reason for my peculiar recruiting requirements. The women you've seen transformed received the Rashja through intimate contact. Sex. We hope to someday find another transfer mechanism. Right now, this is what we have. Do you want it that badly? If not, you need to turn around and walk right out that door." He didn't expect her retreat to take long.

Even in a world where Jane thought she had seen and heard just about everything, Wendel's world, this was hard to process. As her mind spun over the facts, trying to make sense of it all, her head involuntarily cocked to the side. The whole situation was too shocking to quickly comprehend. First she had seen women somehow transformed into towering goddesses, nine-feet-tall, maybe more. Now she was being told the transformation was triggered by sex? Despite having seen them with her own eyes, the entire situation seemed like an elaborate hoax. She had even started to doubt what she had seen, now on more than one occasion. None of which answered his question. If that's what it took, if she had to have sex to be transformed, would she? She looked back at Wendel and provided the most honest answer she could, spoken in the form of a question, "I don't know?"

Wendel expected her to be gone by now, instead after her response she was sitting, puzzling. Had he under-estimated her? Or was it simply his own view that this situation was so perverted and ridiculous, no reasonable person would accept it. "Well Judy, it sounds like you have some things to think about. There is no need to make a decision right now. As for the interview, it's over. You are welcome to join the Protectorate whenever you choose. Do you have any other questions right now, or should we get back to our interview schedule?"

Judy felt both excited and confused at his offer. She had a zillion questions. How was this possible? How did he find it? What does it feel like? How long does it take? Does it last forever? Each question individually seemed so petty. Then she realized what would get rid of her doubts. "Just one question. Can I see it?" She sat up in her seat, her body language showing her interest. "Can I see it happen before I decide?"

Chris opened the door to a uniformed courier standing over a stuffed messenger bag, clipboard in hand. By the time he was done providing an ID and signing for Suzanne's delivery, his testosterone and endorphin fueled state had completely faded. The courier squatted down, and with considerable effort lifted and handed him the heavy package by the strap. There was obviously a lot more than just a laptop in the bag, and Chris struggled to get it onto his shoulder. He tried to ignore the strain and discomfort as he carried it into the bedroom with a lopsided gait that made his effort very visible. 

Suzanne was exactly where he had left her, topless, sitting on the edge of the bed. Just one Sernasa had given her a stature and presence that commanded attention, having boosted her naturally sexy five-foot-seven frame by about six inches. Her arms propped to her sides, she could have been a pro-vollyball player -- posing for a pinup calender. She looked like she intended to pick up right where they left off. 

Chris might have admired her more if his shoulder wasn't beginning to cringe and buckle. As he struggled towards her with the huge heavy bag, it was obvious to them both the mood had already changed. "What the heck is in here Suz? The law library?" She laughed at him, making him feel even more silly lumbering over to her, shoulder straining. Her state of half-undress was discordant with the situation. It felt like time for her to slip a shirt back on. 

"It's the Picken's brief. A big case I'm working on." Suz thought he was cute struggling towards her. In the office, they would have brought the heavy binders to her on a on a cart. Poor Chris. A devious idea dawned on her. If she could now hardly feel the strain of tearing a door off it's hinges, or crushing metal in her bare hand, that heavy messenger bag shouldn't be much strain at all. She casually reached out for it, resisting the urge to brace for as much weight as it appeared to be. "Here, let me take that." She slipped one finger under the strap like it was an empty paper bag, and when she lifted, it almost felt like one. She worked to suppress a satisfied giggle as she watched Chris' expression turn from relief at the heavy weight coming off his shoulder, to surprise at seeing her daintily holding it mid-air on a single finger. She set it slowly swinging. "Maybe I should just get to work," she teased, still topless. 

Pausing for effect, she started to notice for the first time how powerful she felt. Chris, the bed, the room, all seemed subtlety smaller. Suz had always been drawn to tall, big, strong men, and Chris was no exception, so the rush of excitement at these turned tables surprised her a little. Still, she liked it, if for no other reason than the novelty. Years of professional sex had dulled the rush of intimacy. This was anything but dull. She could work with this. Subconsciously her mind started calculating and adjusting her tactics as she resumed her seduction. "Or did you want something first?" She suggestively spread her legs wide to leave no confusion about her meaning. 

Chris heard fabric tear, and instinctively looked down to see the borrowed boxers give way in a couple places. Looking back up, the thirty-point-two pound messenger bag, a figure he'd seen on the delivery receipt, was swinging on her finger like it weighed only ounces. He knew he shouldn't be surprised. He'd seen what Amazons were capable of at the resort; he'd seen the door practically torn off his closet. Still, something about seeing Suz, who had been his girlfriend for months; who he knew well; display this kind of strength, was thrilling, humbling, and exciting in a whole new way. "Suz. I can't tell you how incredibly sexy you are right now."

"Sweetheart, I'm just getting started." She could see he was enjoying her little display so she gave him another one. She set the bag into a bigger swing, tossing it towards the wall like it weighed nothing at all. Chris watched and cringed, probably because the laptop might not survive the fall. At the moment she didn't really care. She reached for him, and as the crunch of the impact sounded off, she pulled him in by the jeans and wrapped her legs around him. Even these small acts gave her a pleasing taste of her power, trivially flicking the bag across the room with her wrist, effortlessly dragging Chris towards her without feeling his weight or any physical resistance to her intention. She was starting to find the power such a turn-on. That, and his Rashja scent permeating her. Her Libido was way ahead of his, the lack of any prominence against her something she would soon remedy.

Afterall, if there was one thing she was good at, it was reading and manipulating people. At some level she found all of life was acting. It's why she wanted to be a trial lawyer. It's why she was good at playing her part in satisfying men. And at the moment, it's how she was going to push Chris' buttons. She noticed where his attention fell and where it didn't. He had focused more on the way she handled that bag he'd strained with so much, than on the naked and perfect tits he was normally all over. She considered his desires for a moment, plotting, calculating. A part of it was simple submission, a desire for her to take control, something most men enjoyed and some men flat out preferred. However, with Chris it was obviously so much more. It was something he hid from her, something secret, a fetish. He'd gone to great lengths to visit a resort that most would find both impossible and morally abject. A resort that created this power in her. He obviously liked it; he wanted to see it; and she was going to show it to him.

Just as being held this close to her was starting to get to him, Chris felt her legs release. "But first, I really want to apologize for your closet door." He expected to stumble over backwards as she pushed him away at the waist, but her grip on his jeans stopped the motion as quickly as she had started it. A moment later she was dragging him by the pants as she took a couple slow steps towards the damaged door. Chris could now feel her five or six inch height advantage in his bones. Her shoulders higher than his chin, her naked breasts not far below. She gently propped the broken door back into it's proper place as she started up her act. "I don't know what happened. I was just trying to get something that fit me better." Her left hand held the door in place as the other gestured to the now torn boxers. "The thing just pulled off the hinges. And this handle..." She touched the metal, misshapen from earlier. "I still can't believe I did that with my bare hand!" 

Suzanne was improvising a show she thought Chris would enjoy, trying her best to play it up without forcing it. She squeezed just the tips of her fingers against the doorknob, seeing more than feeling the metal dent at her touch. She looked at Chris with a carefully fabricated look of surprise. "Did you see that?" She knew he had. His eyes were glued to it as it happened. "Well, it's already ruined right?" As she looked back she was satisfied to notice him briefly glance at her tits. She wrapped her hand more deliberately around the whole doorknob, this time squeezing with more force. The hollow metal bent in her hand before her twisting tore the entire apparatus free in a loud crackle of splintered wood. 

Chris had to check that his mouth wasn't hanging open. It wasn't the mere display of strength that was getting to him. He'd seen far more astonishing things at the resort. It was the fact that it was all so real. This was no temporary resort partner; this was his formerly petite 5'7" girlfriend Suzanne, his actual real life girlfriend. That doorknob was in his real life apartment. She extended the shrapnel towards him, the opposite side of the handle unharmed, wood fragments still stuck to the mechanism. He took it and looked over the mangled end. "It didn't stand a chance."

When he looked back up, Suzanne was staring him down with a sultry look, one hand still casually holding the broken door in place. "No. No it didn't." The door fell cockeyed on it's hinges when she let it go, and a moment later her hands held low on his hips with uncomfortable force. "And neither do you, lover boy." He was a couple feet away from her as she just stared into his eyes, holding him there for a few seconds. Something about the force of her grip caused him to instinctively try to move against it. An act which was entirely futile. Then he felt light on his feet, slightly off balance, and grabbed for her. He caught her arms on both sides as his feet left the ground. Her intent was clear as her lips approached, setting onto his firmly. Their tongues intertwined, and he lost himself in the kiss despite the uncomfortable pressure of her hands holding him up by the hips. 

Suzanne hadn't planned it. She just saw it in his eyes. Like he wanted it, wanted her to lift him. What's more, the whole thing had been no more difficult for her than tossing the bag aside. She held him there, six inches off the ground, effortlessly, as she continued her kiss, alternately probing and retreating her tongue. When she felt the kiss had lasted long enough, she lifted him higher, his head leaning down to stay in contact as long as he could, until he simply couldn't manage. Hoisted a foot above her, he looked wanting. She did what any good girlfriend would do, she lapped her tongue at the air, teasing him with what he couldn't reach. "Ready to give me more?" It wasn't really a question. Suzanne enjoyed her drawn out theatre, but the Rashja was getting impatient. It started to force her hand. 

Chris saw the room move around him as she made for bed. It wasn't like being carried. When someone carried you, their posture and steps yielded to your weight. Suzanne seemed to glide as if holding him was nothing for her. She turned them both, sitting back down right on the edge of the bed while gently setting him eye-to-eye in front of her. 

"Will I get bigger?" She pretty much knew the answer. Her question was part of the drama. She saw the gleam in Chris' eyes as he nodded. She could see how much he wanted it. She lay back, making a show of caressing herself, pressing her tits together. "I want to be bigger for you." She felt almost impatient with desire. It was an unfamiliar urgency. She was used to pacing, drawing it out. She was used to being entirely in control. 

She didn't know it was the Rashja pushing her, wanting him. She had fought it as best she could. She sat up urgently, grabbing his jeans and tearing them open. Buttons clanked to the floor before she separately made a deliberate tear through the front of each thigh. "Oops," a mock apology. When she let go, the pants slumped to his knees, and she tore his boxers open. As she met his eyes, her fingers felt his cock for the first time since the sernasa. Her hand tingled, some part of her knowing the power it would soon deliver. She tore her own clothing in a non-chalant gesture that was hardly noticed, before guiding him into her. 

Chris stood at the edge of the bed, held tightly against and inside her. She held his hips, drawing him in and out of her. She whispered to him, "I need it. I need it now." He let his hands wander, exploring her body. The smooth side of her hip, the curve of her breast. Their tongues interlocked as she continued pumping him into her. He wanted to slow it down, to pace himself, but she was in-control. He could almost sense the Rashja wanting him. He considered commanding her to slow down, but he was already looking forward to what came next.

Simon Foley had been again woken in the middle of the night and dragged into an emergency boardroom meeting called by Reed Kendrick. When he walked through the door, the room was empty, the other participants only virtually present via images on the wall. Reed was already heated and mid-rant to Gerard, "last time we spoke you said we should do nothing. Now look what is happening. If we don't act, and act now, this whole thing is going to lose containment. This isn't just going to be about press." Reed barely acknowledged Simon entering the room. "This is going to be about what happens when Patron-113 realizes what he's truly capable of." 

Reed's attention was focused on Gerard as if he should have an immediate response, but he simply paused, causing a gap that Simon filled with a yawn. He was still incredibly tired. When it finished, he found Gerard addressing him, not Reed. "Welcome Dr. Foley. Thank you for joining us again during your nighttime hours." Reed looked about ready to throw something, as if it would somehow hit Gerard thousands of miles away. Gerard simply held up his hand as he spoke, acknowledging he hadn't forgotten about the monologue. Reed seemed to settle down. "You're security team has produced some new footage of Patron-113. I didn't think much of it, but our colleague here is ruffled." Gerard held his hand higher, cutting of what was sure to be another interruption from Reed before it began. "Please please. Let the good doctor review the footage first." 

Simon stretched the muscles of his face, widening his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up. A video feed appeared on the wall panel. The footage was grainy, obviously shot from outside the open-window of an apartment, Simon guessed from a floor above on a neighboring building. A man and a woman were talking. The man's back was to the camera, and the woman was merely a shadow behind the window curtains. At the moment their faces were not even visible, but a high-tech titling overlay indicated them to be Patron-113, Chris Rothchild, and his girlfriend Suzanne Oliver. She handed him a small unrecognizable object, then moved closer, her hands falling on his hips. 

Even with the window pane and curtain obscuring her, their height difference was apparent. She looked to be perhaps six inches taller than him. What happened next was further confirmation of what they already knew. She lifted him off the ground with a lack of effort that would only be possible because of the Rashja. The window cropped his head out of view, but they were obviously kissing. As strange as all of this might have seemed to someone else, Simon's fatigue was setting back in and he yawned again. He had already seen footage proving this woman had experienced a sernasa just the day before. They had already decided to watch and wait. Reed responded to his his disinterest, "just wait Simon, it's coming." 

The woman stepped forward, still holding Patron-113 six inches off the ground as if he weighed nothing. Her head was still hidden from view, but the fact that she was topless was not. The two quickly crossed the window frame exposure and disappeared out of view. A moment later the camera cut to a different angle. A shot through the same window, but from a very different location, higher up, further away. She was sitting on the bed as she stood close between her spread legs. They were talking again. If there was any captured audio it was muted, but text subtitles flashed across the screen. "Will I ... bigger? .... bigger for you." The woman laid back on the bed for a moment, touching herself and pressing her tits together in a perfectly rehearsed way that made this start to seem less like surveilance footage and more like a porno. 

Simon was still fighting fatigue as his attention drifted away from the video. On the conference panels, he could see Gerard was watching with more than a hint of interest. It was hard to blame him, even through the grainy footage the woman was half-naked and obviously stunning. Reed's expression on the other hand was shifting to a superior look as if a murderer was about to confess and he had it all on tape. By the time Simon looked back at the video feed, he realized they were already having sex. The woman was sitting up again, her hands pumping him in and out of her at a quick pace that was unexpected given they had just started. 

A moment later she collapsed on the bed, arching her back, and Simon realized the sernasa was already on her. He felt a flash of empathy for Patron-113 and how quickly she had taken the Rashja from him. Simon's thoughts flashed to Cheri, standing guard outside the conference room door, and how she had never been so impatient, no matter how much she wanted the Rashja. A moment later the woman was staring down with a prepared pose that was so sexy it again made the footage seem like a porno, and then the growth began. The way the window-panel framed her on the video made it even more apparent, her head quickly approaching its edge. As her body elongated, it tugged at the bed covers, causing shimmers in the grainy footage. Then she looked unexpectedly right at the video feed. It startled Simon a little, because it felt like she was looking right at him. A moment later Patron-113, Chris Rothchild, turned to the window. The window went dark and the footage froze at it reached it's end marker.

Reed let out what he had been holding in. "I hope you see Dr. Foley, that we clearly have a problem we need to deal with." Simon really didn't get his point. They already knew Chris' unique lack of Rashja falloff in his bloodstream. They already knew his girlfriend had experienced Sernasa a day before. They watched him carefully smuggle her to his apartment to keep her from being seen. This just looked like they were having a bit of fun, incredibly sexy fun. He tried to mentally put himself in Chris' shoes, and figured he'd probably be doing the exact same thing. More than once. He realized Reed was still ranting and he had missed a little of it, "...calculations she is now over seven foot two! What if they go for a stroll. She is more than a spectacle, she is our undoing!" 

Simon looked over at Gerard. He looked bored. Reed was still ranting to himself as Simon addressed Gerard directly. "I don't see a problem here. Do you see a problem here?" Gerard just shook his head. This time it was Simon that took command of the conversation, fueled by his annoyance at being woken up in the middle of the night, again, this time for no reason. He held up his hand and started scolding Reed. "That is quite enough Mr. Kendrick. I have seen the footage. We are in the same state we were yesterday. Has Patron-113 exposed Rashja to the world? Has he exposed our operation? Has he done anything that might put either the resort, or your precious profits at risk?" Reed stared dumbfounded, not expecting to be on the outside of this decision; knowing the answer was 'no' on all counts but not willing to say it. "Patron... Chris Rothchild is a free man. We have no legal right to do anything to stop him. What would you have us do? Arrest him? We are not the police. If we're through here, I could really use the sleep I'm missing."

Simon was almost to the door when Reed mustered up a response, "Wait. Wait. Can't we reason with the man? Appeal to his judgement. Encourage him not to do anything.. rash?" Simon turned staring silently at Reed on the video wall. Too tired to think anymore, waiting for something actionable to come out of the babble mouth. "Can't we, invite him back here. No, I guess that wouldn't last long. Can't we send someone to him. An employee, or perhaps someone he bonded with here at the resort? Someone who could influence him." Reed seemed exasperated. "Can't we do something? I can't afford for this investment to fail."

At least the source of Reed's behavior was always clear. Money. Not only was there no sign of a problem, there was certainly no conclusive sign Rashja going public would hurt the Resort's profits. It might even help. Right now though, Simon really just wanted some sleep, so much he was willing to appease Reed's paranoia. "Perhaps. I'll look into it tomorrow. However, no more emergency conference calls to spy on former resort guests in their privacy of their own homes. It might make me question your loyalty to the project and have to delay your next resort visit." It was an entirely empty threat. Gerard had never visited the resort, but Reed was a bit of a frequent flier, and he knew that would get his mind off financial return. "With that, I am now truly off to bed. Thank you gentlemen." 

When the video conference ended, Gerard carefully stepped out of view of any cameras. This room was specially crafted for these conference calls. When he reached the makeup desk, he began to pull the costume beard and eyebrows off his face, setting it onto the holder where it and the other parts stayed at rest. He moved without thinking, having repeated the methodocial process forwards and backwards many times before. Offering him complete privacy and secrecy for his alter-ego. Slowly but surely Gerard was hung on the rack while Wendel Varden re-emerged in the mirror in front of him. Once complete he washed and rinsed his face of the leftover latex adhesive, and headed for the door. 

It opened directly into his high-rise office. Kat's over eight-foot-frame was barely clothed and lounging on the far side of the room like a piece of art he'd almost bored of, almost. Her head turned to see his intention. When he made directly for his desk, she closed her eyes and settled back into the almost meditative state of statue-like stillness Wendel had asked of her. He pressed his hand down on the intercom. "Judy, have the guests for my next appointment arrived yet?" Her confirmation squawked over the intercom. "Excellent. Show them in. You're to join as well this time." He rustled his hair, as if still fixing himself after removing his Gerard Lutont costume. A moment later the door far across the room opened, and a group entered. Judy; Derek, his chief scientist; and Gia, the most promising of the four new recruits he'd hired for the protectorate.

Standing next to Judy and Derek, Gia wondered if she had pushed her rendition of business attire too far. Their clothes were so conservative, even the boardroom grey of her skirt couldn't hide how short and tight it was. She followed behind them, giving her a chance to tug on the hem. She didn't know if it would keep her garter from showing or not, but she felt it worth the attempt. Finally, her eyes scanned the room. She had never been in Wendel's office, and she doubted she had ever seen one so opulently sized. Her wardrobe concerns melted away, however, when she saw the side of the room housed asexy giant female statue. It's slender and scantily clad figure was far more distracting and overtly sexual than her undone blouse buttons. 

The middle of the room was adorned with couches, and Gia followed Judy and Derek to them, only realizing after that Wendel was gesturing them all to sit from aside his desk. "Welcome. Welcome." Judy and Derek sat on opposite sides of one of the couches, leaving Gia the other all to herself. She resisted the temptation to occupy it lewdly. "You are each here for different reasons, but if you'll bear with me, you will understand why it's important that you be here together." His eyes scanned back and forth between them as he spoke. "Gia, you are to be the newest member of the Protectorate. You may look back on today as your initiation of sorts. Judy, you wish to understand more about the Protectorate. In a moment you will learn that which you wish to know." Gia wasn't used to her clients setting up so much pretense, and the conservative nature off the situation, aside from the gorgeous tribute of female beauty across the room, made her very unsure where this was going. 

Judy was lost in thought, hardly listening to Wendel anymore. In a moment she was going to see the transformation. She wondered to herself what it would mean when she had seen it with her own eyes. She had already seen enough to know what Wendel was doing here was going to shock the world, both the science and the spiritual. His companion Kat was proof of that, lying motionless across the room, like a living breathing piece of art. The moment made Judy feel like she was teetering on the edge of something that would change her world, change the world. But was she ready? Or was this all just a stall tactic of her subconscious? She'd know soon enough. 

"Which brings me to Derek." Gia followed Wendel's eyes over to the man on the opposite couch. He looked calm, sure of himself without seeming necessarily confident. He looked smart, if it was possible to tell that from looking at someone. Wendel had pulled something out of his pocket and moved towards him. "You're recently supply increase is outstanding. It's the first step of exactly what we need to get this program off the ground. Next I need a partner. You have already done more for than any other. I would like to broaden that responsibility further. I would like you to be that partner." Derek's face showed appreciation, but not surprise. Gia watched him nod, as if accepting a compliment he had seen coming. "I warn you, this role comes with some -unconventional- responsibilities and risks. I previously insisted you live here, and assigned you protection for your own safety, and I'm glad to hear how completely you have embraced it." 

Judy felt pulled back into them moment when Derek suddenly turned to face her with a look of discomfort. Was it embarrassment? He didn't linger, glancing at the woman on the other couch briefly before turning back to Wendel. As Judy looked at Gia, she felt a sear of female envy. The woman obviously dressed to flaunt her enviably unattainable body. A tinly veiled attempt to look business-like was overshadowed by a provocatively short skirt showing off too much of her chiseled slender legs and by the way her open blouse buttons didn't just show off cleavage, but a deliberately plumped curve of bustline. Judy was seldom distracted by such comparisons or judgements. In fact, her dispassionate perception was a prime requirement for being Wendel's assistant. What had got the better of her? Her subconcious answered instantly, as if it should have been obvious. To be transformed was to become a spectacle. What would she look like next to these women? 

Judy realized Wendel was continuing some kind of serious offer to Derek, "If you become my partner in this, you will have to give up your life outside these walls. You will be assigned additional protectors. However, they will no longer be solely for your benefit. They will need you. You will be a vessel, supplying them the Rashja. And to do so, you will need to embrace their companionship as fully and frequently and as you have Protector Sarah." Judy hadn't previously known Derek was bedding his giant sexy female bodyguard. However, if Wendel's inunendo wasn't clear enough, the way his face flushed beet red was abundant confirmation. Wendel's close was thick with sarcasm as he held out a vial towards Derek. "You see, intimate contact is the only effective Rashja transfer mechanism we have. Do you think you can endure the hardship?" 

Gia was beginning to bore of the whole monologue, wondering why he was paying her such an incredible sum of money to just sit around in waiting rooms and listen to speeches. However, her interest peaked up at the mention of topics closer to her field of expertise. After the man on the couch had finished downing a shot of something from a much too geeky looking vial, Wendel was almost back to his desk when he waved his hand for her to approach. "It's time Gia." It was about time all right. Gia was normally very demure, and would have glided off the couch with a touch of casual reluctance. However, glad for her part in this freakish little play act to finally start, she found herself springing up a little too eagerly. 

"Sure thing boss." The words slipped out of her mouth before she realized how much the hilarity of it all had put her in a bit of a punchy mood. Her steps were determined and sassy, almost a sexy stomp, and as she reached Wendel, five inch platform heels helped her easily match his height. Dropping any pretense of business, she pulled in intimately close, laying both hands against his chest, and holding her arms tight against herself to nudge her tits and make the view down her shirt that much more irresistible. She pursed her lips inches from his, and hushed her voice just enough for it to seem private, "how can I be of service?" 

As Judy watched the sexy woman throw herself onto Wendel, she had a moment of second thoughts. The fantastical draw of her desire to experience the transformer warring with the improperness not only of witnessing, but partitipating in this kind of indescent exchange. Wendel's reaction so far was matter of fact, "remove your shoes please." Gia lifted each of her enviably perfect legs in turn, grataoutsly leaning her body into Wendel as she slipped off her shoes and settled down to her natural height. Without the hooker heels, Judy guessed they were similarly about five-foot-six. She also realized that fake-height accounted for more of her dominant sex appeal than Judy realized. Wendel switched their places, placing Gia against his desk, "it's time for us to have sex." Judy almost coughed in surprise. She knew that was why she was here, but somehow she had denied it, until now. 

Gia changed her posture, subtly turning her face and her body towards Derek, "so we'll have an audience then?" Gia inched her skirt up. Judy couldn't help watch the sexy garter appear as she sat back on the desk and spread her legs. When she realized Gia was staring right at her, she felt a wave of embarassment. Gia simply blew Judy a kiss before pulling Wendel forcefully against her crotch. Her legs now hooked behind him, she rubbed her tits into his chest, again looking to her audience, making a show of it. "Can they join us? I'd love to give your assistant a little -- unwinding." 

The comment made Judy felt even more self-conscious, but at the same time somehow flattered that Gia had even noticed her. "No. No fanfare please. This time just the deed." Wendel's words and body language caused Gia to release her legs. A moment later, Wendel had already unbuttoned his slacks and unzipped his fly. The pants stayed exactly where they were, almost as if by magic, and Judy realized it was the inner button holding them in place. Judy was thankful that the angle, the flap of his pants, and Gia's spread leg all conspired to keep her boss' equipment out of her view. 

"Ohh, how formal of you." Gia was caught a bit off-guard, but then she hadn't known what to expect from the beginning. "Go ahead then." She laid back on the desk, spreading her legs out, opening herself. Wendel moved in closer, but was obviously not ready yet. For a few moments she took no action, almost defiantly giving him exactly what he asked for. Almost a minute later Wendel still wasn't inside her, so she sassed at him. "Maybe a little fanfare then?" He didn't respond, but then he didn't refuse it either, which was the same as permission in her profession. 

Derek had already been embarassed enough by his boss's revelation that he had full knowledge of his having sex with Sarah. Now he was watching that same boss get ready to have sex with this sexy, impossibly sexy, woman right in front of him. It was almost too much for him to deal with. If his brain wasn't already stretched from having accepted the fantastical reality of the Rashja himself, he might have objected, or stormed out, or something. The truth was, nothing in the room was more shocking than the eight foot tall woman lying motionless across the room that his science had helped create. His mind had been partially focused on her the whole time.

Having decided not to excuse himself, or perhaps having decided he didn't know how to do that at the moment, Derek gave in. He watched Gia unbuttoning her shirt. Speaking softly enough her words were for Wendel, but loudly enough they could all hear. "Here, let me get ready for you." The fabric of her blouse slipped to the desk surface, held on only by the sleeves, and revealed her taunt body. Her arms came to her sides. His view from the side was limited, but he had an idea what her hands were doing. That idea was confirmed as she started vocalizing with sexy sounds that seemed only semi-fake. "Uh.. Is that okay? If I touch myself for you? Uhh." Derek felt his inner animal instinctively responding to the sight of this beauty exciting herself. "It that getting you ready?" Derek was surprised how fast it was getting him ready, and felt increasingly uncomfortable sitting only arm's length from Wendel's female assistant Judy.

Judy had given up her resistances, and was now almost fascinated at Gia's actions. The woman undoubtedly exuded sex. Every tiny movement. The way she unbuttoned her blouse, her sexy come ons, and watching her fondle herself right there gave Judy a sympathetic flush of blood to her skin. When Wendel entered her a moment later, she realized Gia hadn't even touched him. Now on top of the body, she could envy that too. The pedistal Judy's mind and senses were building Gia up onto was shortened a bit by her next outburst. "Yes. Drill me baby." Wendel was moving in and out of her, and Judy realized he hadn't acknowledged them since this began. She considered that it might be as awkward for him as it was for her and Derek.

Wendel's motions were increasing in pace while Gia colored the moment with her sounds. Letting out her "uhn, uhn, uhn" in pace with every stroke. Judy wondered how long Gia had been holding her legs up and spread in mid-air, ready to be again impressed and envious, when something shifted about the cadence. "Yes. Uhn. Yes." Gia's hands came to her breasts, cupping the side of them in a motion that seemed designed to show them off for Wendel. It wasn't many more pumps and Wendel visibly yet silently stiffened. Like he had done something painful, thrown his back out, only Judy knew better. Gia's sounds ending, having done their job. A moment later, with as much decorum as one could have in the situation, Wendel retrieved himself from Gia and closed his pants. 

Judy noticed Wendel meeting their attention now that he was recomposed, waving them closer to the desk. Gia looked to her audience silently and momentarily. Her expression didn't show any hint that she knew what was coming, because she didn't. Then she made a sound and her eyes went wide. "Ohh, what is what?" Gia looked back towards Wendel just as Judy stood up to move closer. The expression on her face was, pleasure? Then she let out a sound that was much more viceral, uncontrolled, "Uhhhn!" Gia arched on the desk, the muscles of her body tensing and straining as she responded to the sensations. 

Judy knew what she was supposed to see, but struggled to see it. Was this the transformation? Right now the woman seemed to be experiencing some kind of intense after-climax. Either that, or intense pain. The two were hair-threads apart in the mind. A few feet away from the desk Judy felt she was close enough, and she could swear she noticed something. Gia's skirt momentarily stretching then sliding against her legs. Judy threw away her propriety and looked over her torso and chest. Her breasts seemed plump and strained at the bra moreso than expected.

Gia was almost humming now as she writhed a little on the desk, making it hard for Judy to spot anything specific. A splitting sound came from her skirt. Not a tear, more like like individual strands were breaking. Judy was so focused on watching for change, that she had missed how obviously different Gia looked now. Her legs and arms were undeniably longer, her body subtly bigger, than they had been moments before. Judy felt butterflies growing in her stomach. As if she had somehow not believed any of this was real until this moment of seeing it for herself. Knowing she could have it for herself. 

Before they had entered the room, Gia's tall heels had made Judy feel the dominance of her fictional height. Now standing next to her, Judy was struck by the overwhelming and much more real feeling of her now dominant size. Looking over her frame again in fascination, they way her chest and tits were straining at her bra was becoming unreasonably apparent. Her nipples sliding into view, and the cups appearing dis-proportionally near each-other on a torso that was widening around them. When Gia's body relaxed, Judy guessed the whole process had taken maybe ninty seconds, but it had seemed like an eternity.

"Oh my god. What was that?" Gia propped herself up on her elbows as she regained her senses. "I have never come that hard. fucking ever." As her waist bent, her skirt couldn't handle the stress and it let out a ripping sound. "God. I tore my skirt." She continued sitting up, her skirt tearing further in the process, then stopped with a look of shock as her feet hit the ground long before she expected them too. Wendel was standing just a step away from her and silently motioned for her to finish standing. She took his hand for balance, and stood herself up awkwardly, finding herself somehow looking down at the top of his head.

"Welcome to the order, Protector Gia. There is no reason for surprise or alarm. From here out you will be dedicated to protecting and serving our members and our charges, via any means necessary." Derek looked at the woman towering a few inches taller than Wendel, and quickly put the facts together. Of course, he should have realized them sooner. This was Rashja transmission. How incredibly fantastical! 

For a moment Wendel seemed to be sizing up Gia. "You look to be about six-foot-three. That's a nine inch response, and quite typical." Wendel looked to Judy, who was now standing with them up by the desk. Derek felt improper sitting on the couch and moved to join them. "Have you been convinced?" Derek was too distracted to notice her response. Gia was now scantily clad, bursting out of her bra, and diminatingly taller than him. He had no choice but to conspiciously adjust his manhood, something Gia obviously noticed and seemed to revel in, her lips cracking a little smirk.

"Derek," Wendel noticed him enthralled by Gia's sexy state, and expected his attention to take a moment. "I apologize if that crossed some boundaries. I felt a demonstration was the swiftest method. You will now be responsible for Sarah's dose, once a day, as well as two others I will send to you." He turned his attention to Judy, not sure whether she would take up the offer having seen the demonstration. "And there may be one more. Judy may come to you when she's ready." Judy and Derek shot each other a glance that was unreadably a mix of awkwardness and something else, uncertainty maybe.

"Derek. There is one more thing." His mind wondered if he should say this in front of Judy before she was initiated, before she could be compelled not to share it. She had shown herself to be unflappably loyal. And maybe he needed to tell her, wanted to know before she made her choice. "The Rashja is not just about the transformation, the Sernasa. It offers something more. A compulsion of sorts." Derek's expression was of blank non-understanding. 

"I picked you to join me because I need partners I can trust completely. The Rashja ensures the Protectorate will always obey the vessels. A fail-safe of sorts I suppose. They could, after all, be a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands." A glimpse of registration crossed Derek's face as he glanced back at Gia, who met his gaze intently. Wendel saw her quickly and wordlessly read him and respond, opening her posture, reaching her hand to grip the waist of Derek's pants. Wendel was surprised how fast it happened, though he shouldn't have been. The Rashja was already coursing through Derek from the vial he drank earlier. He laughed as Gia moved in, tilting her head down to kiss Derek passionately. 

Wendel thought to let her finish, but he had a schedule, and a timetable, and this was not on it. "Not now Gia. You can have him later." Wendel could see the disappointment in both of their faces, and a bit of shock in Judy's. He simply shrugged his shoulders at her, as if to say -- see, I told you it was a big committment. "Judy, please show Derek to the recruits I've assigned to him. You may go to him when, and if, you wish." Wendel took Gia's hand, separating her from Derek even as he look at her a bit wantingly. "Now if you'll both excuse us. Kat, come meet our newest recruit."

With the current state of his house guest, Chris really didn't need the phone call he was having right now. "Yes. Yes. I understand Mr. Hatfield." The truth was he was having trouble at work before he'd taken his vacation. He half expected to come back to a severance check. As his boss raged on, he wondered how his career had even lasted this long. Almost ten years ago he had parlayed his it-crowd party attitude into a marketing career. In these recent years, however, he was beginning to wonder if he was getting too old for the game. His latest gig at Pink Ice Vodka was a longshot, and one that wasn't working out. 

"Look, I've got something huge planned, and it's going to happen soon. Real soon. You'll be pleased." He held the phone away from his head as his boss barked something loudly. Chris looked around his living room, wondering how he was going to get himself out of this mess. He didn't need to hear his boss drill into him about unreasonable expense accounts and lack of results for him to understand his predicament. When the phone went silent he was glad to have been hung up on. Chris sat with his head in his hands for a moment just to calm himself.

When he looked up, he couldn't help but have his spirits lifted a little. His girlfriend Suzanne was bikini-clad and standing in the the doorway. Still over seven-feet tall, she had one hand casually hanging from the door-frame as if to illustrate how low it seemed to her. Nothing would take his mind off his little work problem like chasing her into the bedroom. 

He almost did it too, but he had resolved to get her back to her normal size and her normal life. Having restraint wasn't easy. Not only had she not shown any signs of shrinking down in the last couple days, her attempts to rile him up and make herself even bigger were constant. At the moment he was thankful he'd been able to find an ill-fitting bikini to provide her at least some coverup. 

"What do you have planned, Chris? I could use something huge about now. Or even just something average-sized." He glared at her flirtation, his look reminding her to stop making this so difficult. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry." She relaxed her pose, making her way to the couch to sit next to him. "That call sounded serious, what's the problem?"

"It's nothing." Chris sat up as tall as possible, but she still towered over him. Looking far up into her eyes, her determined stare said his answer was not sufficient. He wasn't sure what was harder to resist, aggressive advances from across the room, or her mere proximity. Even now he was finding it impossible to ignore her massively oversize breasts, insufficiently covered and jutting towards him. He wanted to touch her, and it didn't help that he knew how much she would welcome it. Maybe he'd mis-judged himself. Maybe he didn't have this much restraint

When they decided to abstain and get her back to normal size, he'd considered leaving the apartment. He could have compelled her to stay here and out of sight, and a few days later she'd be back to normal size. It seemed wrong though, to leave her here alone, especially when he was the cause of all this. He thought he could certainly control himself for a couple days around her. Right now he was dangerously close to failing. He decided talking about his work problems might keep them from having sex. 

"I think I'm getting fired." Her face quickly shifted to shock. "It's okay. I'll be fine, I have enough put away, and I'll find another gig. It's just, I'm having more trouble delivering for these party brands. For almost a decade I've been making a killing partying it up and convincing young alcohol buyers that what I'm peddling is the new rage." Suzanne leaned back against the couch cushions, which he was thankful for, as it became easier to think straight. "I'm not exactly in my twenties anymore, and neither is my network. I've been doing everything I can think of to push Pink Ice Vodka, and the market is just not responding. Which is fine, it's really no big deal. It's just that this one is more than just a brand. It's going to be my reputation. I've made big promises to these folks, and I don't know if I can deliver." 

"So what do you have planned? Something huge? or just something average sized?" Chris glared at her continued references to sex, even if this one was just a joke. "Ha. Sorry. Seriously though, what do you have planned? Anything I can help with?" Chris was distracted again, but not for the same reason. Suddenly her bikini top didn't seem so overstuffed. Was she finally shrinking? He looked carefully at her chest, watching to see if he could notice a change. She waved a hand between the two of them. "Hey mixed signals, if you are going to stare at my tits like that, I'm going to gladly bring them out to play." 

"No no. I think it's happening. I think you're returning to normal." Suddenly both of their eyes were glued to her body. Not for the sex appeal, but looking for signs of change, and they got them. It happened much faster than he realized. One moment the fat-lady bikini was barely big enough to provide coverage, the next she was swimming in it. It almost looked like she was deflating and being swallowed up by the couch. Less than a minute later, she looked positively small, though he realized it was mostly an illusion because of how big she had been moments before. 

"Joy. That's a sexy look." There was more than a hint of sarcasm in her voice, as she looked positively silly in her now oversize swim-wear. "At least I can finally go to work now." She looked back at him, and he struggled to re-remember that this was her normal size. "So what do you have planned?"

Chris receded into himself and responded, "absolutely nothing."

Simon Foley was knee deep in validating the model for their new resort expansion. Despite the resort having quite healthy margins once underway, the initial development costs were substantial. Recent events demanded increased security, and fitting those into a profitable five year plan was turning out to be challenging. He was so deep in the numbers he didn't notice Cheri enter until she was right next to him. Which was quite a feat, as she was nine feet tall and her lab coat didn't nearly hide her Rasjha enhanced curves. 

"Simon. Are you listening? Simon. You have to see this. Right now." He realized she had been trying to get his attention for a minute or two when he pulled himself away from his work. Finally having his attention, she reached in for the computer, navigating to the resort's computerized television feed. A moment later he was watching some kind of CNN news program, with a ticker tape scrolling on the bottom. 

"...so you see, what I'm offering can bring out a new type of peace; one where leaders, diplomats, and citizens can all be protected from terrorists to a degree never before possible." The voice was somehow familiar to Simon, but it obviously wasn't just the speech that had Cheri interrupting his work. The shapes cut off on the sides shifted, and Derek started to realize what hadn't been obvious at first. Those were huge arms, coming from shoulders well above his head. Was this man flanked on either side by giant amazons, on worldwide television? Was this really happening? Rashja was going public right now! 

"Let today mark the day that the Protectorate arrived to rid us all of terror." The camera panned out to show the full size of the amazons, both about three feet taller than him. Simon thought it smart, to make them big enough to prove his point without showing the full extent of the Rashja's capabilities. But wait. This wasn't Chris Rothchild. Who was this man? Simon recognized him, but from where? He puzzled as the speech continued. "We will begin by offering the Protectorate to major world leaders. Soon after, we will make them available for private protection services, and finally we may find a middle ground for peaceful military service." The man held his hands wide as dozens of camera flashes snapped off near simultaneously. "Now, now. I'm sure you have many questions...." 

Simon muted the volume, and started rummaging through the clutter on his desk. It wasn't that he found the speech unimportant, he simply knew he'd be able to watch it later in it's entirety. He just had a nagging feeling he knew where he saw that man before. Having shuffled the papers on his desk around, he turned, and repeated the gesture on the bookshelf behind him. 

"Where is it? Where is it?" He murmured to himself. Then he found it. A Time magazine issue from a few months back with the very same man on the cover. He produced it and triumphantly held it out to Cheri just as the man's name was titled onto the newscast. He read the title on the cover, "Wendel Varden. Billionaire fallen. This is the guy!" He tapped the magazine cover. "This is the investor we turned down. He had some issues with our secrecy policies, wanted full disclosure with investors. We suspected he was out to steal the Rashja."

Cheri pointed at the screen as an overhead helicopter shot made the proportions of the amazons even more apparent. "Looks like he got it anyway."

After having missed half of the previous work week held up at Chris' apartment, Suzanne hardly had time to be skipping out at 7pm to meet the girls. She hadn't even had time to see Chris again, but she just had to have someone to talk to. The whole thing had been like a weird, twisted, amazing dream. Even now she could hardly believe it had happened. And it wasn't just the feeling of growing several feet taller than humanly possible, it was also how strong she had become. Crushing and twisting the metal of a doorknob in her bare hands. Despite being under strict orders not to say anything to anyone, she just had to talk to them. 

As she approached the door of the bar, she reveled in her excitement, the lightness in her feet. Pulling at the door, she marveled at how easily it flung open. She wasn't exactly bending metal anymore, not that she hadn't tried. But somehow, ever since her transformation, everything just seemed lighter and easier for her. She waded through the crowded bar. It was by no means upscale, and she felt a bit out of place in her lawyer dress-suit. This was a middle ground for her and the girls, as they would undoubtedly be out of place in some uptown scotch bar. She spotted her friends, and as she made her way, she found pushing through people just that much easier than she expected.

When she reached them, she could see Drew had come right from work without so much as an outfit change, her DDDs popping so far out of her white blouse it was clear there was no way she could button it up even if she wanted to. However, Suzanne was more focused on how short Drew seemed. Drew noticed it too. "Next time I'm staying in my hooker-heels, tall bitch," Drew's language was affectionately colorful, but she didn't know how right she was. Suz had measured herself, and somehow even after shrinking back to normal, she was still a whole two inches taller than last week. She had measured it twice. She crounched down for the hug, making those extra inches less noticeable. 

"Hey Allison," Suzanne turned and gave her a quick greeting squeeze, glad at least she knew how not to dress like a harlot. Her little black dress would fit in anywhere. Only if you looked closely would you notice the sexy edge of a size 0 too short for her height, and the telltale signs that her perky tits were staying there all on their own. "Listen up you two. The most amazing thing happened to me. Astonishing. Like you're not going to believe it crazy." Allison peaked up in interest, Drew had already turned back towards a guy across the bar who had been staring at her. 

Allison swatted, "please Drew. Don't tease the animals." They all looked over. He was sharp looking, dark hair, mature but not old. What's more, it was clear he had her number. He was casually holding a folded hundred-dollar-bill in his fingers, tipping it in a way that most wouldn't notice. Obviously Drew had, she was already teasing at her collar, drawing attention to her rack as she stared back at him. Allison swatted harder. "Drew. Down girl. You can work another night, Suz came all the way down to meet us." 

Drew broke off her sexy stare in a huff, "whatever. I was just having some fun. What's this big news of your's Suz? You finally found a guy that can make you come? We know, he's delicious. We're both jealous." Despite her response, Drew clearly hadn't stopped flirting with the man waving the hundred dollar bill.

"No. Well, yes, but... That's not the big news." Suz was caught-off-guard by being tricked into Drew's question unexpectedly. From her stammering, the girls could tell Chris was giving her what she needed, which peaked both of there interests. She began again, "Last week, I. Something amazing happened. I. This. Chris." The closer she got to spilling it out, the quicker she found her words disappearing. She tried again, found herself mute, and let out a frustrated grunt. "Arrrrh!"

Allison dove in this time. "Don't tell me he proposed to you!" Suz shook her head, still frustrated and confused about where here words had gone. "Phew. Not that we wouldn't be happy for you. I mean. It's just," she was now covering to hide her jealousy, "it's just you two have only been together a little while. That would be way too soon." 

Suzanne took a deep breath, "I do not know what is going on with me. I'm trying to tell you what happened, and then the words just won't..." she hadn't even finished her thought when a loud whistle and shout interrupted the noisy bar scene. Someone turned up the TVs to make them the center of attention, and the bar started hooting and hollering. Suzanne figured it was a sports team. She was deep in thought trying to figure out why she couldn't tell them. Chris' words rang in her head. He hadn't told her she shouldn't tell them, he said she wouldn't. As if it was an indisputable fact. She tried to blurt out something about getting bigger, and again nothing came out. Now she didn't have free will anymore? The realization kind of ticked her off.

"Now there is a movie I'd like to see." Drew was watching a TV mounted across the bar. Suzanne took one look at a screen and realized she wasn't the only one getting a transformation recently. A man on screen was dwarfed by two huge women, easily three feet taller than him. It was impossible to hear the TVs over the clamor of the bar, but the subtitles flashed words across the screen... '...METHOD ARE A TRDE SECRET, BUT RST ASSURED, PROTCTERATE IS A FORCE FOR GOOD." 

Despite the newscast titling on the bottom, despite the familiar anchorman, the images on the screen were simply unbelievable to anyone who noticed them. Every except Suzanne. Somehow this public disclosure made the events she had experienced that much more real. She somehow expected people in the bar to hush in shock as their world changed, or clamor in panic. Instead they practically ignored it. The news segment ended. 

Drew turned back from the screen, "that is some kick-ass girl power." Suzanne wanted to tell Drew it was no stunt, no ad-campaign, no movie preview. She wanted to them it was real, tell them it had happened to her, but somehow she couldn't. "What I wouldn't give to be just a couple inches taller. Now, what was it you were going to tell us Suz?" Drew seemed to be dismissing the whole thing as a farce. Suz wanted to shout at her. Tell her that the world as they knew it was about to change, but her lips just wouldn't move. It made her feel disconnected, like she was watching herself talk to her friends. She let out an exacerbated sigh. "Better yet, don't tell us. You're probably engaged or something. We're jealous enough of you already." There was just a little bit of truthy bite to Drew's sarcastic humor.

"No. I'm not even...Gosh, no." Suzanne's thoughts snapped back to Chris, as she professed a denial that some small part of her realized was overplayed. Allison and Drew were now staring at her with even more interest, as if they could see through her protestations. Truth was she did care for Chris, but at the moment, she was ticked at him. She would never let a man control her. The budding anger, her disconnection, and a bit of alcohol caused old Suzanne to surface. The Suzanne that wanted to get what Suzanne wanted. They needed to know the world had changed, that the news program was real. If she couldn't tell them, she'd just have to show them. It was time to bring the girls home. "Let's see Chris control that," she thought to herself.

"Well, you might be a little jealous, Allison. Turns out Chris and I had that little chat. The one about my former profession." She could see she had them interested now. "Turns out he doesn't mind at all. In fact, he thinks it's kinda hot." Allison had long ago given up any hope of finding a partner who would accept her profession. The suggestion that Chris could, brought out a mixed look of anger, envy, and disbelief. "Ohh and Drew, I think you got a little under his skin. Or at least those babies did." Drew knew which babies she was referring to and let out a little giggle. "Chris is the first guy I've cared about, basically ever. So I was thinking. Why not go all the way? I'd like to really hook him, show him how good it can be. You girls up for a little overtime tonight?" 

It wasn't really a question. She knew how they would respond. Allison was still a bit bent, but she would be over it in a minute. Drew simply smiled and licked her lips. "It's about time the girls got back together."

Chris was at home, just changing clothes before heading out to his evening Pink Ice promotion. Ever since that run-in with his boss last week, he'd been putting in overtime, promoting the brand day and night. Thankfully, Suz had also been consumed with work after her extended absence. As much as he wanted to forget life, take Suz somewhere private and recede into fantasy, he knew this world wasn't free. He needed money. He needed his job.

When the doorbell rang it was unexpected. Suz was out with the girls tonight. She had just texted him and reminded him to meet up later. He was at a loss for who could be visiting him right at the moment. He grabbed a white shirt with an embroidered pattern and started buttoning it as he walked. 

Swinging the door open brought quite a surprise. The woman standing there was completely stunning. She wore a sexy black leather skirt and a fitted white under-buttoned blouse that showed off every inch of her body. She was carrying a small briefcase, and she was tall. In fact, a bit taller than him in heels. Young. Too young to be wandering alone in a city or randomly ringing doorbells. Did he have a new neighbor? Straight, jet black hair. Then something clicked and he realized he knew her. The last time he saw her she looked very different, but it was her. "It took a while to find you. Well? Aren't you going to invite me in?" 

"Vanessa! Wow. Of course." Chris opened the door wide, unsure what type of greeting was appropriate for the woman he most recently worshiped and was pampered by as a naked fifteen foot amazon sex goddess. A part of him wanted to hug her hello and pretend everything was normal, another part of him wanted to rip her clothes off and relive some old memories, reality be damned. He struggled to get some words out. "How did you? I mean, what are you doing here?" He looked at his watch, as blowing off this promotion might mean an even quicker end to his job. He decided to avoid even the hug, for fear his male instincts might move too fast to control. He'd have to make this quick, gesturing her to the couch.

"I'm here for two reasons really. First, I want to say thank you." She sat, crossed her legs, and slid herself a little closer. She layed a hand on his leg, which he instinctively took in his own. A sign of their previous intimacy. "You wouldn't know this, but before our little, vacation... I was quite a bit shorter than this. Maybe five-foot-five on a tall day. It seems the resort left me with a five-inch gift. She gestured her hand, as if waving a magic wand over herself. They say this doesn't normally happen. They also tell me I have you to thank." She leaned in, pecking him on the cheek. "So thank you." It took all his will to avoid meeting those plush lips with his own.

"Second, they offered me an obscene amount of money to come talk to you. Seems you know something they want you to keep quiet about." She set the briefcase on the coffee table, and opened it. "This is a first installment. They think a cash incentive and a visit from me might affect your sensibilities. " She squeezed his hand, moved in close, as if to make her words even more private, "I had no idea what that secret might be, but after seeing that crazy billionaire on the news earlier, I have my suspicions." 

Chris' mind was still back a few pages. They know? They were spying on him? He looked into the briefcase. It wasn't filled with stacks of bills like in some cloak-and-dagger movie, but a single official looking bank note with a seven figure dollar amount written out across the middle. He turned back to Vanessa, almost in disbelief, not sure what to ask about first, only to find her biting her lip in a sexy way that made it hard for him to think about anything else. 

His mind struggled to click together the facts, adding it all up. He already knew the Rashja stayed with him. Of course they wanted to keep him quiet. Why would they send a guest? It had to be someone he could trust. Then the payoff. With the size of that bank note, he could certainly live a little easier. Could it really be that easy? He considered how much a resort visit cost, the hundreds of guests he saw there, and realized the check probably wouldn't put a big dent in their profits. Only one thing didn't add up. "What crazy billionaire?"

"It takes a lot to get your attention, Chris Rothchild. That check will turn you into a multi-millionaire; I'm wearing an outfit with fuck-me written all over it, and you want to know about a news program. A girl could get the wrong idea you know?" Her lip curled into a sexy little smirk that seemed all too familiar. She gracefully moved in, setting a knee on the couch then straddling him, pushing him back against the cushions. It took only a moment for her to open the few remaining buttons of her blouse. "Now, I think it's time to thank you properly."

As the cab sped along, Suzanne tried again to tell her friends about the growth, and again she found herself inexplicably mute. Whatever was causing the mental interference, it only further fueled her desire to turn the tables on Chris. The moment the cab let them out, Drew looked up starry eyed at the swanky uptown building, "looks like there is at least one big thing in his pants. His wallet!" She was the only one smiling at her own bad humor. Suzanne looked at Drew's outfit, comically proportioned tits flaunted for all to see, and wished Drew was a tiny bit more like Allison. A bit more able to blend in. As they strode in through the front door, she felt a moment of concern at what the doorman might think. 

The doorman waved recognition to Suzanne. She waved back as he greeted her. "Hello, Ms. Oliver." His words stuttered a bit in a double-take at her companions. It was a common occurrence when accompanied by Drew. He reached for his desk phone to call up even as they passed. It was something he wouldn't normally do, but she was too focused on the elevators to notice.

"Now girls. He has a big promotion tonight, so we should have some time to setup before he gets back." As the elevator doors closed, Suzanne had her phone out, and was texting Chris an alternate plan for the evening. Retracting her earlier invitation to meet them out in favor of catching her back at his place. She kept her companions a surprise. The floor numbers ticked by until finally the elevator opened. She flipped through her key-ring as they approached his door. The phone was ringing inside, generally a good sign nobody is home. Only she could hear something more. She stopped, hearing what sounded like voices through the door. 

She turned the key in the lock, and opened the door to a sight she totally didn't expect. Chris was on the couch reaching for the ringing phone, while a tall gorgeous young dark haired girl seemed to be playfully wrestling to stop him. As Suz and the girls entered, they both turned, faces surprised. Chris made a more aggressive move, tossing the girl to the couch and standing up, "Suz! Alli? Drew? What are you doing here?" 

Suz could see now that the girl's blouse was wide open. Who was this woman? What was Chris doing? She didn't have a jealous or possessive bone in her body, but she did expect honesty. It didn't seem like something honest was going on here. "Funny, I was thinking the same thing. Who is this?" The girl stood, a bit taller than Chris in her heels, and casually fastened the buttons of her blouse. She appeared to have no intention of leaving.

Too many thoughts were flying through Chris' head. He might lose his job; he should be leaving for Pink Ice promotion; a slip of paper in front of him was supposedly worth a fortune; and he felt caught between the real-life girl of his dreams and the fantasy girl who could push all his buttons. He reached for the paper in the briefcase, and headed towards Suzanne, hoping it would provide a better explanation than he could. "You are never going to believe this." He handed her the papers. "This is from the resort." He looked at Drew and Allison briefly, reminding himself to be careful with word choice, hardly noticing Drew's shocking outfit. "They asked Vanessa to deliver it to me. She. We met while I was there." 

Suz looked down at the paper, immediately recognizing it as a legitimate looking bank note worth three million dollars. Her face flushed with shock, then she flipped to the next page. It was a memorandum of sorts, apparently stipulating the terms of a generous cash offering. The wording was a bit obtuse, offering Chris 'sizable cash bonuses' as long as 'information of great importance' is kept out of the public eye. Having already experienced the amazing transformation herself, she had a pretty good idea what information they were referring to. She wasn't sure what it all meant, but it no longer seemed as simple as catching Chris in the act. She handed the papers back, "Well, you should deposit that quickly. It's probably going to be your last and only payment. That crazy billionaire, Varden something, was on the news an hour ago with two amazons."

Drew and Allison had drifted back towards the front door, waiting for the whole scene to play out. Suz wondered if she should just send them home. Her devious plan seemed rather dashed at this point. Then as if the situation wasn't already crazy enough, the phone rang, again. Chris headed towards it as the girl from the couch approached and engaged her. "So, you know about the resort then. Are you three also former patrons?" Her question answered more than it asked, as Suz now had a better idea why this girl was throwing herself at Chris. She must know about the growth.

"No, we are not former patrons. I'm his girlfriend." Good. At least whatever mental block was affecting her didn't prevent her from answering that question. "These are close friends of mine, Drew, and Allison." Vanessa seemed taken aback, not having expected that response. Suz took the opportunity to size this girl up. She was quite stunning, and young, in her early twenties. What's more, her outfit was clearly chosen to ride the line between sexy and trashy. Across the room Chris looked like the phonecall was quite serious and would last a while longer. The girls had drifted back to her at their mention, so Suz quizzed them, "what do you think girls?" 

"She's young. I bet she clears 3g a night easy," Drew offered, believing she was sizing up the competition. "If we're still doing this little fantasy night for your boy, I say she stays." Vanessa's facial response showed curiosity as she admired Drew in return. Suz hadn't intended to stir up that love fest, but she should have known. She noticed Chris had hung up the phone and was sitting on the couch, dejected. 

"Chris, what happened?" Suz made her way to him, removing herself from the girls. He looked extremely frustrated, hands in his knees. She sat down next to him. "What is it?"

"It's the promotion. The attendance is horrible. They said if it doesn't pick up there is no point in my even coming down there." He pulled his head up to look at her. "Suz, I think I'm going to lose this one." 

She knew he'd been concerned about his job for a while now. He had promised Pink Ice something big without a clue what that might be. This past week he'd pulled out all the stops, promoting every night. It was heartbreaking to see it not turning out the way he planned. She wanted to help him, but she knew nothing about marketing. It might be best just to get his mind off it, which she was sure she could do. "Chris," she looked back at the girls, preparing to restart her evening mission. Then suddenly, somehow, it clicked. She paused, quickly rechecking her thoughts. "I think I know a way to solve your marketing problem."

Lights inside the party bus looked like twinkling stars as bass heavy hiphop pounded through Chris' head. Allison was riding him, her stretchy little black dress still on, the bottom rolled up around her waist. "Come on baby, give it to me! Make me big like her!" She was referring to Suzanne, who had gone first to demonstrate to the girls. Once they saw it happen, it took no time for Drew and Allison to jump on board. The idea was genius. With the newscasts still running footage from the Protectorate's press conference, four hot amazons promoting Pink Ice was sure to draw a crowd. 

Allison's hands braced his shoulders, and she did her best to keep rhythm as the bus tossed about. He hadn't seen her sexy side until that moment. She had always just seemed a bit tiny, mousy. Not that she was by any means short. In fact, she was the same height as Suz, Suz's normal height anyway. However, her arms, legs, and even her waist and butt were tiny and waify -- all of which made her modest curves seem sexy and feminine on her. She reached down for the bunched fabric of her dress, starting to pull it over her head. He stopped her. He wanted to see it, to see see her get bigger in it. 

"Oooh, you like my little black dress." She leaned in, pressing her body against him as she continued gyrating her hips. "You think it'll still fit when you're done with me?" Despite having just performed for Suzanne, the thought of Allison growing pushed him ever closer to the edge. She unexpectedly slowed her motion, drawing up and down, milking him as she whispered into his ear. "When I saw it on the news, all I could think of, all any woman could think of, was how we wanted it to happen to us." She grasped his hands and pulled them to her firm chest. "Here we go baby." 

Her pumping resumed, with even more intensity this time. She sat up and chanted, "uhnn, uhnn," in rhythm. She was braced by his hands. Fabric rubbing under his palm as he encouraged her. The dress had a square cut halter, and was fortunately stretchy enough that it just might survive what was to come. At least he hoped it would. He thought about how hot she'd look a few feet taller. The mental image and a few more thrusts were all it took. He felt himself shooting into her. "Yes baby! Yes! Mmmm." She calmed immediately, gently finishing him before coming to rest.

She didn't move an inch in the seconds it took. Her tonyata climax was first, she moaned with pleasure and a look of shock. "Ohh my .. Ohh my.. Uhnnn!" She hadn't been ready for it, they never were. Her sounds suggested waves running through her, and gradually they became more intense until it was no longer all pleasure. He could feel it now, the fabric shifting as her body stretched beneath it. Her moans of pleasure turned to moans of agony, as her body strained under the transformation. Her grip increased, first tight, then crushing, her growth pulling his hands upward. 

"Aaaaah!" He winced as his fingers creaked in pain. His shout got her attention, and she let go, opening her eyes. She held her breath just as Vanessa had coached them to when the pain became too much. With her dark dress in the dim lighting, it was hard to see some of the effects on her body. Her increasing height, however, was very apparent. Her head moved away from him like she was standing up, only she wasn't. His hands felt the subtle but obvious inflation of her chest as it also slid upwards away from him. He felt weight lift off him as legs and thighs elongated, eventually dropping his spent member out of her. With his grip slipping to her torso, she felt frail and tiny compared to Suzanne or Vanessa, though the growth was subtly increasing even that proportion. He let his hands slip past the bunched up dress fabric as it rode up just under her breasts. Her tummy was smooth and just as tiny as the rest of her, even after the transformation. 

"Phew..." She let out her held breath in a rush before kissing his hand while stepping back off him. "Thanks sweetie." The bus hit a bump and she stabbed for a hold on the silver pole mounted in the back. He heard it creak a little as she grabbed it and bumped her head on the ceiling. After she caught her balance, bending down for lack of headroom, she started pulling the fabric of her dress back into place. It looked ravishingly sexy. The halter held the neckline a little too high, causing the previously knee length skirt to barely make it to mid-thigh. She was looking down and trying to admire herself. Chris pulled up his pants and stood up to test himself against the new Allison when she turned and called out, "Drew baby, come here and make me feel tall." 

In the front of the bus, transformed Suzanne and Vanessa were sitting spread legged on opposite benches, each already having changed into trademark Pink Ice Vodka bikinis. All black, a few sizes too small for them, with small brand-logo squares of pink ice painted sparingly. Drew was standing between them talking eye-to-eye with Vanessa, when she heard Allison's call. A moment later she was standing next to Chris, even more dwarfed by the new Amazon than he was. As the bus bumped, Drew grabbed for balance and her huge tits smashed into Allison's hips. Chris had grabbed for balance too, and their hands had collided on Allison's butt, as Drew craned her neck back, looking almost straight up. "Damn girl, you look even taller than Suz!" Her slim profile combined with nearly four feet of extra height made Allison appear to be the tallest of them. Chris, in less shock over the experience, knew it was just an illusion from her being so impossibly thin. Even after being enhanced, Allison's legs were still more slender than Drew's. 

Chris was so focused on checking out Allison's new dimensions, he didn't notice Drew turn her sights on him until he felt giant breasts press into his side, still barely covered in a trashy white blouse. A moment later her hand was on his crotch. "Looks like you saved the best for last." She didn't waste any time. She pushed him back, and an ill-timed green light sent them both off balance and crashing onto the seat. Drew burst out laughing as she righted herself. 

Their clothes were still on as Drew straddled him and started into a well practiced lap dance, gyrating against him in a variety of moves which each brought her fake tits dive bombing by his face. Chris didn't need an invitation, he rubbed them as best he could. "Mmm," her hands grabbed his, smashing them against her. "Suzanne tells me you've been a naughty boy. Dreaming about my tits without telling me." She rose up, smashing her tits onto his head, and dragging them slowly down his face. The friction rode her shirt up. Across lips, he felt raw lace and patches of her soft skin. As she rose for another pass, pulling her blouse free, he realized her tits seemed even bigger up close than from afar. This time he felt raw flesh against his head, then his eyes, then his cheeks. She leaned in, wrapping his face in firm cleavage, and he brought his hands up to to help. They felt so perfect, too perfect. The paradox of round, soft, firm, and huge that was only possible through science, not nature. 

When she backed away far enough for me to see, they looked as alluring as they felt, if a bit impractically oversize. He wouldn't want a girlfriend with tits this big, they were just for play. He felt an unexpected wash of feelings for Suzanne. His perfect girlfriend, who was sitting across the bus, orchistrating this situation for him, without possession, without jealousy. Suzanne who challenged him, who supported him. He realized he'd never met anyone like her. He almost found some deep meaning in the thought before Drew's sexy flirting continued. 

"Now, no biting. My nipples are *very* sensitive." She leaned in, planting one against his cheek. As he moved to take it in his mouth, her hands were on her tit, pushing it around his face, mockingly making it difficult for him before finally planting the target between his lips. When her skin landed on his tongue, she let out a sexy sounding groan that made him want to own her. Then she seemed to relax, making herself comfortable, stroking one hand through his hair. "There's no rush baby. You've been busy. You can suck that titty all night if it takes you that long to be ready for me." He sucked harder, and she let out another convincing moan of pleasure. "Mmm, careful, we don't want my cunt so dripping wet as to make a mess all over these nice pants." He realized she'd already unbuttoned them, and was slipping her hand down against him. 

"Ohh Chris, you're such a stallion." She grasped his spent manhood and rubbed her fingers softly against it. "Not one, but two performances and you're still *this* hard? Now I'm really jealous. I want you all to myself!" Her compliment seemed overplayed, yet somehow it still worked, kindling his interest. Then she changed her position, kneeling onto his lap. She locked eye-contact, layed on him, and then there was only Drew. She was eternally sexy and entirely focused on him. She stared into his eyes silently. Her body gently rocked, dragging lace against his naked cock. As she reached down, her gorgeous breasts came away from his chest. He felt a finger caress, then press him into her skin, her sex, her warmth.

"I can give it to you so slow, so soft, so good." Her voice was as unhurried as her motion, fingers holding him against her wetness. "Or I can ride you and pound you hard and fast." The sweet calm of her voice seemingly at odds with her offer. The bus hit something, jostling them off-balance. Drew giggled as he instinctively hugged her close, her head over his shoulder and tits smashed against him. Her lips were so close to his ear, even her soft words came out loud, breathy, and sexy, "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." Chris eased his grip, letting his hands fall to her ass. He held her butt as her hips rolled, her fingers again holding him against her wetness. 

With the bus back to a manageable level of motion, she leaned back again. She kept one hand on him, while the other cupped a breast, pressing it inward. "Mmm. I love to play with my big beautiful tits." Her hand and arm worked a path that seemed extensively practiced, shifting and rubbing, hiding and exposing her breasts in a sexy display. Her fingers slid between them, "ooh, your cock would feel so good right there." Her suggestion invaded his mind, and as she against smashed them together, he couldn't help imagine it. His cock, trapped in that massive cleavage. It was the remaining push he needed, as he felt himself drooling and aching for her.

"Ohh ya baby. You're ready for me now." She slipped him inside, settling down onto him. "Mmm. Your cock feels so good." Her motion was subtle, barely rocking into him. "Now, do you want it hard and fast?" She leaned in, her tongue diving into and probing his mouth forcefully. He responded, their tongues tangling a bit awkwardly. "Or, soft and slow." This time their lips met softly. She nibbled, then lapped, then teased her tongue at him only to retreat. He leaned in, wanting more, and she gave him a little more, letting her tongue slip inside his mouth, moving slowly and softly. Then she retreated, licking, nibbling again at his lip. "Soft and slow it is. This time." 

Chris felt her slowly rise and fall against him. His gaze wandered down to her tits and body, before returning to watch her stare intently into his eyes. As her rhythm continued, only slightly compromised by the occasional pavement imperfection, Chris felt completely taken in by her. 

"And we're back. Coming to you with continued coverage of the Protectorate's recent press conference. We're here with University of California Berkeley Anthropology Fellow Alan Wong, who attended the press event just hours ago. Alan, what I want to know, what our viewers want to know, is whether what we're seeing is real. Is this a hoax?" Kathy, anchor for the segment, waited for Alan, present only via video-conference, to respond.

Unlike the choreographed show for the audience, the newsroom was a frenzy of activity. The wall of monitors showed dozens of feeds from their field crews, competing news programs, and sourced video-clips. A larger monitor in the middle showed their output feed, with squares for Kathy and Alan alongside silent hours old video footage from the press conference. 

At the moment, that footage showed a ground cameraman just a few feet away from a beautiful and impossibly oversize woman. She was down on one knee and surrounded by attendees to the conference all trying to get a moment to speak with her. Even bent down, the woman was easily a head taller than everyone in attendance, and her broad shoulders and oversize features made her resemble a living moving statue next to the people around her. She had light skin, flowing red hair, and was wearing a dark spandex outfit that resembled modest work out wear, tank top cut and knee length. A field reporter awkwardly held a microphone up over her head to capture a response from the woman.

After a delay introduced by the video feed, Alan responded to the question. "It's going to take the scientific community quite some time to understand what we're seeing here. Wendel Varden has not disclosed any details of the science behind his demonstration. Until he does, we have no means to verify any of what is really happening. It was certainly an impressive display, unlike anything I've seen before. Is it a hoax? Is it real? It's simply too soon to offer a clear answer to that question." 

In the silent video playback, the huge woman turned her head, said something to those near her, then slowly rose to her feet. The camera-angle tilted up as she rose. With the hair and heads of nearby spectators nearing the bottom of the frame, she appeared to be easily three or four feet taller than those around her. The top of their heads barely higher than her tummy and elbows. Her upright posture also made it apparent that she was unusually buxom. She appeared to be moving slowly and with great care, and it was easy to see why. An inadvertent step or swing of her arm would likely cause great harm to whoever it connected with. 

Kathy started her retort. "Alan. You were there at the conference. You're seeing what we're seeing on the playback. Is this a living breathing person? Some type of animatronic masterpiece? In your opinion, based on what you saw at the conference, what are we seeing?" 

The playback shifted to a camera further out and higher up. Titling slid into view identifying the woman as "Protector Sarah." She looked like a giant among a sea of tiny people, as she slowly turned, and pointed off in a direction. Her huge arm extending out above several spectators. Then the sea of people began to shift and move, clearing a path in the direction she had pointed. As room allowed, she stepped gingerly into the open space, with camera lights flashing on her. As she moved, onlookers craned their heads up to watch her pass as those nearest reached out, some brushing their hands against her hips and torso. 

Alan's posture shifted. His discomfort at being corralled into direct answers was apparent. "Certainly I'm not aware of any animatronic technology capable of this demonstration. There was too much of a crowd for me to get close to either of the protectors, but it was obvious there were no wires, or tethers or other signs that this was some form of advanced robots. Even so, our current state of the art robotics is barely capable of awkward walking, let alone this kind of human fluidity."

In the newsroom, a man pointed and shouted an order, "run the bigdogs clip!" The press-conference footage was replaced with the scene of a clunky four legged robot awkwardly bouncing over uneven terrain. A caption slid in reading "Big Dog - Advanced Military Robotics". It was followed by a few different clips of the same robotic dog from different angles, before cutting back to a clip from the press conference. A different woman standing on a stage, identifiable as similarly oversize only because of Wendel Varden standing a few feet away in the shot. She was very trim, with olive skin and jet black hair. 

"So Dr. Wong. Would you say then that it appears what we're seeing on screen is real?" As Kathy paused, the titling slid onto the clip identifying the woman on stage as "Protector Gia." At the same time, the giant woman nimbly bent over, placing her hands on the ground. A moment later she was in a handstand, back to the camera feet in the air, another moment and one arm was out, making it a single-arm handstand. Kathy continued, "would you say it appears the Protectors are in fact somehow fantastically transformed humans?" In the clip, Wendel walked towards the Protector as she remained stably and comfortably balanced on one hand. He was talking and gesturing as part of his demonstration, but the video clip was played without sound. 

"It would appear," Dr. Wong appeared distracted through the feed. In the clip, Wendel now seemed impossibly small next to the Protector. Her arm was notably longer than his legs, and in her handstand her body extended more than double his height into the air. "It would appear, that yes, what we're seeing is real. That the protectors are in fact human." Even as he said it, he backpedaled, "however, remember that there has been no scientific review of these facts. We need to independently repeat his results, and develop proper theories as to..."

Kathy cut him off mid-sentence, "Mr. Varden was also very clear that the Protectorate would be exclusively female, that the transformation process was only compatible with the female genetic makeup. If this is true, in your expert opinion, what kind of changes might we start to see in society as a result of this new advancement?" 

Dr Wong again appeared visibly distracted. In the clip, the protector now had both hands back on the ground, and her legs spread in a flat split several feet above Wendel's head. "I'm sorry, I." Wendel was now under her foot, and reached up. He seemed to laugh a bit, and the protector hyper-extended her split to bring her leg down so Wendel could get his hands around her ankle. Then as if he weighed nothing at all, she straightened her split, lifting him several inches off the ground. "Ohh my." The shock on his face was apparent, and he finally seemed to remember he was being interviewed on live television. "I'm sorry. I didn't see this demonstration at the event. What did you ask?" 

Kathy picked up without skipping a beat, "What type of societal changes might we expect to see if, as we've been told, the transformation and capabilities we see before us are only available to one gender." The on-screen tension suddenly became palpable. Dr. Wong was already visibly shocked by the images. Kathy's question couldn't help but he heard by Alan, and the entire viewership, in a personal context. As if she had said, "the female gender, my gender. How will you feel when I'm towering over you, when women are the dominant sex?" 

Alan looked disturbed as he responded, "we aren't yet sure what is causing this, and without knowing the scientific basis behind the discovery, we don't know it's risk, it's limitations. It could have dramatic effects on lifespan, reproduction, mental function." In the clip, the gymnastics had run it's course, and Protector Gia was standing alongside Wendel, her arm gingerly draped down to his shoulder, the top of his head just under the distinctive curve in her stretchy top caused by the bottom of her right breast. "Even if it were available to all women, it's hard to say how many would elect to participate." The smirky look on Kathy's face seemed to telegraph the female opinion, 'right, you keep telling yourself that.' At the same time, she held her hand to her ear, distracted by something. "Our gender roles are as programmed by hormones and animal brain mating rituals as they are by..."

"Thank you very much for joining us, Dr. Wong." She hurridly cut him off mid-sentence, and in the newsroom the output feed dramatically changed. The replay clip was gone, Dr. Wong's feed was replaced by a static headshot and titling with his full title, and Kathy was again shown full screen. "This just in, we have reports that a tweet has suggested Amazons are to appear outside a downtown nightclub, where a large black bus just showed up minutes ago. Is this a prank praying on the hype, or the second Amazon sighting in the making. We'll find out in just a few minutes." 

The newsroom lead again waved his hand and shouted, "now, swap in the helicopter feed." The whole output feed was replaced with a nighttime helicopter shot down at a black bus surrounded by a growing crowd of people. The helicopter was slowly circling, and there were obviously no unusual sized people present. "Six seconds longer, then cut to commercial. Five, Four, Three, Two, One... and we're off." The output feed switched to vertical bars, and audio piped in from the camera floor.

"Is this shit fucking for real?" Kathy seemed livid. "Are the other network's airing it? This better be real or it's going to fry my career."

The black transit bus came to a stop in front of their destination. Drew had only settled into gently riding Chris moments before, and he was just feeling the rhythem. "Awww, it looks like we've arrived already," a lilt of disappointment in her voice. "I'm sorry, Chris. I promise I won't rush next time. I'm going to finish you now." She paused, making her apology seem sincere, almost asking for permission even though she wasn't. 

Then Drew's expression changed, showing a kind of sexy commanding hunger. She rolled her hips, and in three thrusts Chris felt like he had to fight to hold back a climax he didn't even know was coming. She grabbed his head and hair, and vocally writhed against him. "Yes! Ohh, yes! Right there." Her body was in a rhythm. With surgical precision she seemed to be pleasuring herself against him. "Uhhh. You feel so good." A couple more thrusts, and he came.

Drew snapped out of her sultry expression of pleasure so fast it became instantly obvious it was an act. Seconds later, she was propped on him like he was just a comfortable place to sit, every ounce of connection gone. "Wow. I think I feel it already." Her face showed genuine surprise. "Whoa. This must be it. Here it comes baby. You're going to want to feel this." With that she grabbed his hands and wrapped them onto her tits. 

Then Drew's face turned sour. Chris could see her frame start to expand, but he also felt an unusual amount of heat coming from her skin. "Owww! It burns!" She tossed his hands off her and started shaking her palms. "Holy crap that burns. My tits are fucking on fire." As her shoulders rose higher, she closed her eyes and started weeping, her words coming out in staccato bursts. "Owww. No. No. Make. It. Stop." A pit sunk in Chris' stomach. 

"What's happening?" Suzanne and Allison were upon them now and concerned, Drew's pain and commotion had signaled the end of their mock privacy in the back of the bus. Even in the dim light, they could all see her chest turn an inflamed shade of red. 

"Ohh crap," Chris exclamed. "It's the implants. No women at the resort had implants. This must be why." He had no idea what was happening, but he was starting to worry for his own safety. Drew's legs were tensing on him through her pain, and she was getting bigger and stronger by the instant. He reflexively put his hands onto her tummy, trying to push her off, but she didn't so much as budge. "Off. Get her off me! She could crush my legs. Suzanne!" He looked to his girlfriend, the panic forcing actions into slow motion. Drew looked catatonic as they both pulled and pried off Drew, setting her on the far side bench. 

With a moment to think and button his pants, Chris could see and hear a small crowd rumbling outside. He realized they must be at the promotion venue. He was impressed that a few tweets, forty minutes, and the promise of a spectacle had brought anyone out. What if Drew was hurt? This whole thing could go so terribly wrong. Could hospitals even help her? Only the resort would even know what was happening, and that was five thousand miles away. He suddenly felt stupid for being so arrogant. For using the Rashja at all without fully understanding it. Vanessa's fearful glare from the front of the bus said she was thinking the same thing. 

He looked back at Drew, panting and weeping across the aisle. Her body was incredible, easily over six feet tall, her strained clothes accentuating the increase. Only the skin on her chest was still red. It looked like it was sweating. He noticed her hands were clenching the bench and heard uncomfortable sounds as her grasp tore through the laminate and bent the metal frame. Allison and Suzanne were hovering over her with concern. "Drew? Are you alright?" Drew?" 

Finally she seemed to relax just a little. Her face lost its grimace, her hands eased off the damaged seat. Faster than anyone expected, the crisis seemed to pass. "I think... I think it's over." Her eyes shot a stern look of displeasure over at Chris. "You might have warned me about that." Her chest was still red, but the color seemed to be subsiding. Her fingers gingerly poked her skin, as if checking a piece of meat just out of the oven. "Holy fucking hell that hurt." Then, as she turned attention to the other changes, her face seemed to light up. Her hand ran down her thigh as she extended the leg. "At least it was for a good cause. Holy crap I'm tall. Let's see girls." 

A moment later they were all on their feet. Drew was still a little shorter than her friends, but proportionally less so. The three of them were a sight next to each-other, Allison in her undersize little black dress, Suzanne in a pink ice bikini, and Drew still topless. So much of a sight, it took a moment for Chris to notice Drew's finger taunting him closer. "I'm really sorry Drew." He pulled himself up by the center pole. "I had no idea that would happen." 

As he approached them it became clear Drew was now at least four inches taller than him, and the sassy smirk on her face seemed to say, 'all is forgiven'. Next to her, Allison stood a few inches taller still, and Suzanne nearly another six-inches taller than that, her chin over his head and her bikini top up at eye-level. Normally he might have lingered longer, but with Drew still topless, his eyes were elsewhere. He felt a patronizing pat on the head. "It's okay shorty, looks like everything turned out in the end." Drew cupped her gargantuan tits, the red color seeming to have finally drained out of them. "Holy crap." Drew squeezed herself firmly. "They're gone. My implants are gone!?" 

There was a moment of silence, then Allison said what they were all thinking. "Uh, if they are gone, how are you still so huge, babe?" Drew was still touching and probing herself, as if trying to figure out the answer to the exact same question. As they all stared at the mystery, Chris admired that her tits appeared every bit as artificially buoyant as they were moments before, maybe even more-so. 

"Ohh god." Her breasts twitched in her hands. "They're solid fucking muscle. Feel them." Chris was the last to reach them, just because he had to cover more distance. He cupped the huge side of one breast. It felt every bit as paradoxically soft and firm as it had moments ago, just bigger. Then suddenly he felt the huge muscle tense and move underneath. For a moment, it was a rock solid sphere which a firm squeeze didn't even budge, then it softened again and his fingers sank in. Her entire implant had apparently turned into solid muscle. 

Vanessa shouted from the front of the shuttle. "Look people, if she's okay, we came here with a purpose." They all realized the small crowd was softly chanting. "A-ma-zon, a-ma-zon." Chris would have been happier with them chanting about pink-ice, but he could work on that. By the time they reached the front of the bus, Drew was already tying on a pink-ice bikini top that was so insignificantly small, it looked like it was being held up by her chest, not the other way around. Probably because it was.

"You ready?" Chris asked.

Suzanne lead the response, "ready as we'll ever be."

"I'm Kathy Turina, and you're joining for continued live coverage of a spectacular new development in human science, as it unfolds." - In the newsroom, signals among the team placed the helicopter camera full-screen, Kathy in an inset, and titling along the bottom reading 'Downtown, 4th and A'. - "We're looking at the live feed from our news helicopter as it circles a site just four blocks away from our own RNN headquarters." On screen, a black bus sits parked close to a nightclub, outside which about a hundred people have gathered. Outdoor lighting on an ice-sculpture and a red carpet are a stark contrast against the black unlit street and buildings.

Back in the newsroom the executive producer watches a monitor where Alan Wong is still awkwardly attaching a microphone to shirt as the team performs their sound checks and adjustments. He presses a button to patch himself into Kath's ear, "stretch it. We're bringing you Alan Wong in two minutes." 

Kathy hated filler. It's where people change channels and news goes to die. "Less than an hour ago, tweets suggested that Amazons will arrive at this otherwise unremarkable venue." She put in a longer than necessary pause, knowing the more she could draw it out, the less worthless verbage she would need to invent. "Surprisingly, our sources with The Protectorate tell us they are not, I repeat, not taking responsibility." Long pause. "It could be a social hoax, challenging the validity of the facts unveiled earlier this evening. However, *if* we do see Amazons emerge from the bus, it means Wendel Varden is not the only party with access to this technology."

On the cue-prompter, Kathy could see Alan's feed was finally ready. "And here, rejoining us live, is University of California Berkeley Anthropology expert Alan Wong." The out-feed switched and split to show Kathy and Alan's panels side-by-side. "Alan, you helped us digest an amazing announcement from the Protectorate earlier this evening, yet the Protectorate have denied any involvement here. Did you expect such an early second appearance of Amazons?" 

"Amazon's?" Alan cleared his throat. "The history and myths of the Amazon tribes are already confused enough without this improper interjection of some modern human transformation. Current research suggests Amazon's were merely a progressive tribe whose female emancipation pre-dated the European and Asian societies by several centuries." Kathy doubted her viewers would care about any of this, but it seemed better the more worthless filler. She let him continue. "Since none of this has been scientifically verified or reproduced, I'm hesitant to call this anything other than theatrics. However, it would be more etymologically correct to call this phenomenon human stature enhancement.

"As for your question, at the moment I merely see a parked bus. However, it is quite common in science for techniques to be developed independently by multiple parties at nearly the same time. This happens because inventions are not isolated events, but are built on the backs of our entire body of scientific knowledge. For example, the wheel simultaneously appeared across Eurasia near the mid-4th millennium BC; sailing ships were independently invented by many cultures with proximity to oceans; and even elements of Calculus and modern day..."

Kathy waved her hand, signaling the newsroom to finally reduce Alan's frame-cut and zoom the on-site scene. "Excuse me Alan. There is activity on the ground." The helicopter cam zoomed in on the front of the black shuttle bus, where passengers were obviously exiting. "Yes, it looks we're seeing two, no, three people emerging from the bus. From this angle, they do appear to be Amazon's -- excuse me Alan, enhanced women. One of them appears to be at least seven feet, with the other two slightly shorter."

What Kathy didn't need to say, is that their swimsuit-only attire seemed about as appropriate in downtown New York as a polar bear in Bermuda. It sure made for good television ratings though. "Alan, do you concur it appears we're seeing evidence of female body enhancement?" 

"Kathy, this is highly unusual. Without scientific evidence, there is no way..." Alan's words paused as the helicopter angle changed and a clear side-view showed a blond woman's shoulders above the heads of nearly everyone around her. What's more, she didn't just seem taller, she seemed somehow proportionally 'bigger'. 

Kathy picked up in Alan's stall. "Yes yes, Alan, we understand there is no proof, we're seeing live and shocking events unfold before our eyes. Still, it's hard to refute the obvious. This is the second time today we've seen women enhanced beyond normal human..."

"Wait a moment there." This time Alan was interrupting, and Kathy allowed it. "There are many well documented cases of individuals above seven feel tall, not only in modern times, but dating back through all recorded history. In fact, in 1890 de Lapouge unearthed fossils of a ten-foot-tall giant man in France which carbon dated to around 8000 B.C. 

Kathy was hardly paying attention as he continued. A story that started out like a career ending hoax now seemed not only palpably real, but it was unfolding just blocks from the studio chair she was sitting in. She had to get out there. She swiped her finger on the console touch screen, tapping the button requesting commercial, and then impatiently writing out the word 'NOW' in block capital letters. 

Her stare into the camera wasn't aimed at the audience, but her executive producer, who she knew was watching every last stroke. She heard him in her ear. "Kathy, I can't cut now, this live footage is gold." She cleared the sketchpad, and slowly wrote out her intent, in movements so subtle no viewer knew about the silent argument going on below the camera frame. The words finally spelled out her message. IM GOING MOBILE. CUT BEFORE I WALK. When he finally realized what she meant, it sent him into a mad scramble, "Right! Brilliant! Give me five minutes Kathy." 

In the broadcast room he started shouting orders. "You. Go find me an alternate to replace Kathy right now." The intern was already turning for the door, planning to get their alternate anchor, when another order was barked out. "A woman! It has to be a woman!" The intern paused, perplexed, no longer knowing what he was supposed to do. "Go now! Get any woman can put on-screen. Now!" With that he ran out the door.

Back on the air, they had left Alan Wong rambling on and on, but the producer could see Kathy had reached her limit. He wanted to shout back to her, but she had already removed her earbud. He did the only thing he could, he shouted an order to place the helicopter footage full screen, leaving Alan Won'g rambling academics as a vocal backdrop. He pushed a button to put his voice in Alan's ear. "Alan, this is great stuff. Keep talking. We're swapping out Kathy." Never in his entire career had he left a live program running without an anchor. If something went wrong this was career ending folly. Glancing over at the other stations, they were running re-roll from the Protectorate demonstration, or on-the-ground crews with a view of nothing but the crowd. He had to keep that helicopter footage rolling.

Two hours into the Pink Ice promotional event, Chris forced his way through a packed house to check the sales results. They were not here for the profit, but the more they sold, the more sales lift would be expected in the weeks and months to come. With the loud bass pumping and people screaming, there's was no way to talk to the bar staff, so he'd worked out a system. He held up his fist until one of them noticed. With that, he slipped into a quiet corner, knowing he'd receive a text message in a few minutes. 

The scene was unlike anything he'd ever seen in a decade of promoting. Suzanne and Drew were in corners of the dance-floor, elevated above the crowd not only on platforms, but also by their 18-inch height enhancements. They both gently undulated and twirled with a calmness that seemed in contrast to the loud pumping music, while somehow also matching it. Having go-go dancers was not at all unusual, but the way the crowd reacted to them certainly was. Everyone clamored to get near them, as if a closer look at the spectacle would make it easier to understand. Some resorted to reaching out and touching their legs, as if needing to prove they were real.

Chris couldn't help notice a stunningly beautiful and tall woman headed straight for him. His eyes instinctively gave her black dress and smoking body a once-over before realizing he knew exactly who it was, Allison. She smirked a sinister smile before she reached him. The way the loud-environment forced beautiful women into close contact was one of Chris' favorite job perks. This time was decidedly different, her height advantaged body brushing into him. 

"They're done with me outside. We've been over-capacity for hours, so we've closed up and sent the line away." Chris felt himself cringe at the thought. The point of the promotion was to associate an awesome party experience with Pink Ice, not send people away. "Don't worry. Vanessa and I really 'worked' the crowd. We couldn't serve them outside, but they won't soon forget Pink Ice." He could imagine Vanessa making herself quite a spectacle. He tried to maneuver Allison to voice some thanks, but she didn't budge. In fact, she leaned in closer.

"Not so fast, I'm not done." She bumped her body against him in a sexy, teasing way, straightening up enough that her shoulders cut off half his view of the party. "Being taller isn't the only change I've noticed. The first time a guy in line got fresh with me, a tiny shove landed him and two of his friends on the pavement. You could have warned us about that." He really should have. Had they harmed someone? It could be a real liability issue. 

"Don't worry, we were careful after that. However, the other change is a bit more difficult to manage on my own." He felt every inch of her amazing body press him against the wall. The loud bass required her to be close to have a chance of being heard, but this motion went way beyond necessity. In a flash Allison's intentions became clear.

"I can't stop thinking about you Chris. It's hard to explain, but I feel this need to get you inside me again, to get more." Her hand moved down his side in a motion that was much too intimate to be anything but sexual. "I see you admiring me. Part of me wants to lure you away right now all for myself, but I know this is your big event." Her hand was already at his waistband, and her fingers slipped inside. The move surprised Chris, and while his instincts produced a useless attempt to push her away, he didn't object as her fingers found and brushed his growing reaction. 

"Mmm. There you are." Chris was as aroused as he was off-kilter as her body pulsed into him again. The motion may have looked subtle to anyone int he bar, but the way it squeezed his member against her fingers was anything but. They both felt his phone buzz, no doubt the bar tally finally coming back. "Do you need to check that?" Chris was motionless, with Allison's fingers still gently moving, he knew exactly what question he was really answering when he shook his head. "Good. Now where was I?" She left the question hanging in the air, seemingly just to prove he'd stand there and let her fondle him.

"Ohh right, the other changes. I have this un-explainable hunger for you. I don't want to take you away from your event, so I figured I'd just slip in a little quickie." His phone buzzed again in his pocket. "Alright then, we better get this moving and get you back to business!" A moment later her fingers were on his pants button. 

Chris instinctively grasped her arms, gesturing for her to stop. "Here? We're out in the open. Maybe this isn't such a good idea." It was so loud he hadn't even heard his own voice speaking. She responded as if she had heard his every word.

"Chris, I'm a professional. Nobody is going to see anything. I'll tell you what, you give me just a little bit and I'll send you back to your event. If not, I'm going to carry you out of here and fuck you senseless until I don't feel this crazy hunger anymore." Chris laughed a little, knowing the hunger wouldn't go away, knowing he could stop her with just a word, but also knowing he didn't want to. 

His nod was enough. She opened his pants and pressed herself against him. It only took her another moment for her to hike up the front of her skirt, wrap one leg around, and slip him inside her. Leaning back a little, her face and body came into view. She calmly smiled and stared into his eyes, while just inches below she ever so gently rocked her hips. The look on her face seemed to say, "I told you so. Now, pretend like we're not fucking right out in the open." 

Chris wasn't sure her actions were so un-obvious if someone cared to look, as he held her leg and felt her pelvis moving. That said, he didn't feel exposed. Someone might mistake it for sexy grinding. It was only after he found himself staring down the opening in her dress that he noticed her hand had led his eyes there. Her fingers traced her neckline and suggestively pressed into the contour of her breast, distorting the fabric. When he looked up, her tongue traced her top lip as she leaned back in, kissing him deeply before once again bringing her lips to his ear. 

"You're lucky Chris. Normally men have to work to see my soft side." He felt her grasp his free hand, pulling it between them and against her breast. Then she reached behind him. "Usually I'm a bit more, forceful." She made an abrupt hip movement to punctuate her sentence. "I'd so much rather be naked," thrust, "on top," thrust, "and riding you right now." Then her hips softened and merely rocked against him. "Would you like that? To stare up at my naked body, run your hands against me, hear me moaning your name. Uhnnn. Mmmm. Chris." She moaned, hugged, and bumped him for a minute. He could feel the pressure building. She leaned in, pressing her breasts against his chest and his still sandwiched hand.

"Well, that will have to wait." She rotated her hips before making her most overt move yet. "Right now I want you to," thrust, "come," thrust, "for," thrust, "me." For just a moment she dropped the pretense of her slow tease, as the angle and her motions pumped hard thrusts through him. It only took a few, and he felt himself losing it. "Yes." Thrust. "Yes." Thrust, and that was all it took. He felt his legs weaken momentarily, and she immediately calmed as he spilled into her. "That wasn't so bad now was it?" Those were her last words before she leaned away, a smug satisfied smile on her face. 

It didn't take long for the smugness to be replaced by euphoria. A sure sign of the Rasha running through her. Allison closed her eyes, and sure enough a few seconds later the tonyata began. She bit her lip, and he could see her fighting with the pain as her head and shoulders rose, blocking more of the party from his view. As he slipped out of her, he scrambled to grab and button his pants before they fell.

Allison felt her body quickly rise, as she half-laughed, half-cried at the pain. When her growth finally stopped, so did the pain and she let out a sigh of relief. Before noticing Chris looking up at her, his head below her shoulders, her chest half above his eye level. She also noticed the halter of her black dress felt comically short, as did the hem, which was now at her waist. She quickly tried to pull the dress down, only to have it spring back out of place. Thinking quickly, she slipped the halters out over her shoulders, and with another tug was able to get the bottom to cover just enough not to be obscene. She donned a triumphant smile while Chris looked up slack-jawed.

Allison found the experience surreal. Minutes ago she had merely been having a little fun being tall for a change. This was something else entirely. She ran her fingers across the top of Chris' head, and marveled at how small it suddenly seemed. However, that was nothing compared to how her body felt. Her hand moved with a feline grace, and she could somehow sense Chris' heartbeat and breathing as if they were in a quiet room, not in a deafening dance party. She could also hear his phone, still incessantly buzzing in his pocket. She leaned down, staring into his eyes, loving how much she held his attention. She reached with her hand, intentionally squeezing his spent manhood as if to say 'thank you', before slipping her long fingers into his pocket to grab his phone. She dangled it and quipped, "sounds like someone else really needs your attention too." 

It took Chris a moment to even notice the phone, hanging in front of Allison's gorgeous oversize neckline. He'd been too distracted watching her turn a sexy little black dress into off-the-shoulder lingerie. Chris took it from her as it buzzed again, probably for the fifth time. Chris noticed a small crowd gathering behind her as he looked down to read through the series of missed messages. The bar sell-through numbers exceeded his expectations, but the messages from Vanessa were much more pressing. "11:15pm: News crew is hounding me out front. 11:25pm: Can you come out here? 11:35pm: I'm sending them in." By the time he looked up, Allison had already turned around and was flirting with the crowd. Her appearance was probably far to risque for the brand, but right now he needed to find that news crew.