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.