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It's a new day, diary, and I'm more than eager to continue my work with Clayton. Absorbing his height and abilities to focus has given me a feeling of incredible power already. In only half a night I was able to design and engineer a device I'll be using to monitor my growth, and his diminishment.

I've decided to confront him again today. That is, before someone else notices his changing height, or he somehow comes to realize it himself. As clueless as he can often be, Clayton's not a total dullard. So, I'll let him know exactly what's going on.

But only after I've had a bit more fun with his increased obliviousness.

This is going to be delightful.


Finding Clayton wasn't difficult. With his focus compromised, he didn't notice me following him back from his morning class, or slipping behind him as he opened the door to his dorm room. My ex-turned-subject seemed to move through the routine of his life in a slight haze; an effect of the power absorption of which I was happy to take advantage.

"Hey," I called, before he could fully step into his room and close the door.

Turning, he gave me a look of confusion, and asked me what I was doing there.

Wasting no time, I slipped past him and into his room, making sure to brush my chest across his as I moved by. I heard his breath catch in his throat when I did this; a sign of success. What can I say? I'm used to how he, and many others like him, operate.

"I wanted your honest opinion about something," I said, taking note of how much trouble Clayton was having in closing the door whilst balancing his attention between my words and my body. I finished with, "Do you think this bra is too small for me?"

He froze, and I struggle not to smirk. Though, even if I had, I doubt he would have noticed at the time. The already diminishing man's gaze locked on my chest and I felt as if a hypnotic beam were traveling from my breasts and directly into his mind.

He sputtered something, possibly trying to figure out whether or not he'd heard me correctly.

I took a step closer to him. "I bought it so recently, you see, and it did seem to fit at the time but today it feels like my tits may very well break right through it!" For emphasis, I lifted my hands to my breasts and squeezed them gently, as if protecting them from the imagined event.

Then I felt it again, and the event wasn't quite as imaginary anymore.

The rush of euphoria hit me first, followed quickly by a burst of mental energy and, finally, the delectable surge of height that brought me up another four inches. As I feared, my poor bra just didn't could stand up to the increasing weight of its load, and the entire thing, along with my top, fell away in shreds from my now, more powerful six-foot-six form.

Clayton staggered back into the door, now a mere five-foot-two in height, staring up in shock at his blossoming goddess of an ex-girlfriend. His expression read very clearly: "I have made a mistake."

Euphoria settling, I allowed myself to smirk triumphantly down at him, mine responding silently: "Oh, yes, you have."

He went pale, stammering, asking me what was going on. I relished in the moment, not answering him, letting him stew in his rising terror as I simply watched. It was fun to let his imagination fuck with his head a bit at first.

Still, I may have enjoyed the moment a little too long. He became a bit troublesome after that, and tried to open the door to escape.

In two strides, I'd slammed one of my hands onto the door to keep it closed. My other hand gripped him by the back of the shirt and threw him back across the room. It was incredibly easy! With his loss of height and muscle mass, now granted to yours truly, it was not unlike throwing a child. (Which one should never participate in or condone!)

Clayton scrambled to his feet and attempted to run. It was a dorm room, though, so even he soon realized that there were only two means of escape: getting past me, or climbing out the window.

Bear in mind, this window was on the third floor, and I'd just taken another significant portion of his cognitive focusing abilities. Logic held little sway over terror in my dear Clayton.

Luckily, I knew instantly what he was going to try, and arrived by the window before he could move to his feet.

"You can't win against me, Clayton," I stated, calmly. "Let's talk."

He made a dash for the door, which I also predicted. I was there before he could reach within a few feet of it, and I grabbed him by the front of his shirt.

When cornered, many animals result to the most desperate of struggles. This lad was no different.

He began swinging, weakly, unused to the lack of power with which I'd cursed him. Not to mention, his loss was very literally my gain.

Every pull of his muscles, every aim of his gaze gave him away. I slapped away his attempted punches with incredible ease. It almost felt like a game, and I began laughing!

This sound from me in response to his attempts to fight for his life were all the more terrifying for Clayton, and he thrashed about uselessly as panic overtook him.

I simply held him out at arm's length until he'd tired himself out. After a few moments he was staring up at me, pitifully, asking between breaths why I was doing this to him, and how.

Having not broken a sweat, it was easy work to drag his squirming body over to the bed and sit down. I held him in my lap and hugged him tightly to my chest, off of which the shreds of my top and bra still hung in tatters.

Clayton's head settled between my bare breasts and I felt him shaking. It was adorable.

I explained to him that this was all an experiment, and that if he played it cool and followed my orders, I would happily restore him to his former state at the end of the experiment.

His shaking and tenseness gradually waned over the course of my explanation. He seemed frightened still, but also convinced that I was telling him the truth. What a guy.

Once he was calm enough, I let him go, and watched him struggle now with his baggy clothing. That was for him to figure out.

I stood and opened his closet to take out one of his university hoodies. Clayton looked over and offered his hand, clearly expecting me to give it to him. Instead, I pulled it on and zipped it up over myself. The zipper strained against my chest, but the garment kept in place without tearing, which was the most I could ask for at that moment.

Puzzled and frustrated, Clayton opened his mouth to ask me why I was taking his clothes.

Before he could even begin vocalizing the question, I leaned over and tapped him gently on the nose once.

I cooed, "It wouldn't fit you anyway," and turned away to exit his room, laughing.

College really is a wonderful time.


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