JUST IN TIME
by John Castle - Written For DTM / Amy's Conquest
A brilliant scientist is visited by a Towering Teenage Amazon from the future, as they both get to know one another, in Every way imaginable


Morning in the desert is the perfect time for contemplation; so it seemed to
the young man who strolled along the suburban street, earbuds in his ears and
an electronic cigarette in one hand. He looked down for a moment at the black
aluminum cylinder and smiled. The future was coming along nicely, very nicely
indeed.

He looked up again as the projector headlights of an approaching car winked
out in deference to the rose hue the sun cast as it finally crested the edge
of the world. Early spring yet, the temperatures hadn't even broken 90 at the
height of afternoons, and wouldn't do so for another month. The half-hearted
morning breeze carried the scent of wood smoke, and that led the young man
back to thoughts of his most ambitious project yet.

Conventional wisdom regarding time travel held that one must never travel back
in time, lest one risk altering history. Ty Rozhenko, however, held to a
different theory. His thinking had gone, as it did now, that one cannot alter
history, because while the future may or may not be written yet, history
certainly is. Meddling in it, according to what he fancied would go on to
become famously known as the Rozhenko Theory, would be impossible due to the
simple fact that, whatever one might do in the past would already have been
done by the time one's "present" had come to be.

Problems such as the "grandfather paradox", wherein one might erase oneself
from existence by going back in time and murdering one's own grandfather,
could simply not be realized. If one were to go back in time to murder one's
grandfather, Ty reasoned, then one would never be born and, consequently,
would never go back in time to prevent one's birth. The effect, he reasoned,
would manifest itself as the time traveler simply winking out of existence at
the moment he made the attempt, then winking back in an instant later.

He smiled as he reached his front steps, feeling physically invigorated by the
morning walk and mentally reenergized by his mental run round that well worn
track of thought. The camera mounted above the front door sensed his approach
and a speaker announced. "Hello, there. Look up, please." He complied, the
smile still on his face, and the voice seemed to smile back. "Welcome back,
Ty." The door unlocked and he stepped inside.

"Thank you, Betty." he addressed the living room, although the AI he'd named
Betty was "present" via network throughout the house and could have heard and
seen him anywhere from the sidewalk in front of the house all the way out to
his back fence. "Is there anything interesting in the news this morning?"

"Nothing in science and technology categories." it answered. "Would you like
your breakfast warmed? There's a fresh pot of coffee waiting for you."

"That would be fine." he answered, heading for the kitchen. "Any messages?"

There was a momentary pause. "I'm having trouble accessing your inbox."

"Dammit ... " he sighed.

"I'm sorry." the system sounded contrite.

He shook his head as he took a mug from the cupboard and poured from the
coffee pot. "It's not your fault, Betty. Gmail's probably switched their API
again." he mumbled as he opened the toaster oven and lifted out a plate of
bacon and eggs.

"I don't think I heard you properly, Ty. Should I run a diagnostic?"

"I said""" he started, then sighed. He spoke a little more loudly. "Never
mind, Betty."

"All right." the machine pouted.

He took his breakfast down a hallway toward his garage. "Door, please." The
door clicked and swung open. "Lights." As the overhead fluorescent bars
flickered to life, he entered his lab. The furrowed brow eased as he set his
breakfast on a work table and turned brown eyes on the machine which squatted
mutely at the center of the concrete floor.

"Betty?"

"Yes?"

"Power on the machine and let's run some diagnostics." He forked a bite of
scrambled eggs under a layer of Sriracha sauce into his mouth and turned his
attention to the computer at his elbow.

"Yes, Ty. Which test would you like to start with?" The fluorescents flickered
for a moment, then a bank of lights flared to life and began to wink on the
brushed metal flank of the cylindrical object of the test.

"The last of the wrinkles got ironed out last night, I hope." he replied with
his mouth full.

"Pardon me?" the system asked.

He shook his head and grumbled, but this time it was followed by some quick
chewing, a swallow and then a chuckle. I keep forgetting it's voice
recognition instead of a person. he chastised himself. "Full battery of tests,
Betty. I think it's finally ready to go." He took another bite, followed it
with a sip of strong black coffee, and leaned toward the monitor to watch the
proceedings.

And that's when things got really strange.

"Yes?" Betty asked.

Ty snorted in aggravation. "Yes, Betty. Do I have to""?"

"I understand." Betty answered. "Of course. Have a good time!"

Ty sat up straight. "What the hell?" he looked up in the direction of the
system's speakers "" force of habit, of course "" and opened his mouth to ask
just what in God's name was going on. That's when he heard the knock at the
front door. He altered mental course. "Betty, who is that?"

There was no answer.

"Betty!" he got up from his chair, the fork he'd set on the edge of the desk
overbalancing and clattering on the concrete floor. "Damn it! Betty!" There
was still no answer.

The knock at the front door came again. He growled. "Damned thing ... " He
gathered up his coffee mug and headed back down the hall to answer it himself.
When he reached the front door, rolling his eyes half at the malfunctioning
system and half at himself for letting it spoil him, he caught a glance of
something that his brain couldn't handle and immediately dismissed.

Instead, he simply kept walking while the image of a pair of eyes looking at
him through the windows above the door "" windows that were just below the
height of the 9 foot living room ceiling "" obediently did not come to the
forefront of his consciousness. When he swung the front door open, however,
his brain had no choice but to make a reluctant attempt to embrace the
information.

He stood, stone silent and statue-still, as he stared.

"Hello."

He looked up. And up further. And up yet further. She looked down at him with
a small smile. He closed the door, walked over to his couch and sat down, one
hand on his thigh, the coffee cup forgotten in the other, eyes at the floor
but seeing nothing.

Her knock sounded at the door again. He got up, arms and legs numb, his
movements rigid and mechanical, walked back to the door, opened it, then
walked directly back to the couch and sat once more. "Hello." she tried again.
He looked up, his eyes wide but still somewhat unfocused. Yes, there she was
again, ducking to pass under the door frame.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"No." his voice came from somewhere, but he wasn't conscious of having
answered her personally; it was as though someone else had said it. He lifted
the coffee mug to his lips and took a long drink of the liquid which was still
too hot for a long drink. That helped. The flare of cold-to-much-too-hot, then
the mildly throbbing discomfort, seemed to ground him. He looked again.

She was wearing heels "" very high heels. That was a fact. His eyes weren't
deceiving him there, at least "" he'd never seen high heels that high before,
but they had to be 9 inches, at least. Yet he knew for a fact that his
ceilings were nine foot vaulted deals, and she had to hunch slightly under
them, so that still put her at a minimum of eight feet tall flat-footed.

"You're Tyson Rozhenko." she said it as if it was a remark on the weather.
Lovely day we're having, you're Tyson Rozhenko, and I'm Jenny the Friendly
Neighborhood Giantess. his mind played for him, and he laughed a weak little
laugh, then nodded, feeling a little less like somebody'd done the nodding on
his behalf.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm Lena Yarmouth." she said, extending a hand that looked slim until he
extended his own and hers enfolded it like a mother's hand swallowing up a
newborn's.

"Well, that explains everything." he said, his shock finally fading to
bewilderment with a hint of sarcasm. "Won't you sit down?"

She did "" slowly and carefully "" and the couch protested with a loud groan.
She set one foot down on the far side of the coffee table, crossed her other
leg. Her high-heeled foot reached across the space in front of him, the heel
coming to rest a foot over the surface of the coffee table. The hand holding
the coffee mug was trembling, and she gently took the mug from him. "You're
reacting better than I thought you would." she noted.

"I am?" His eyes were drawn to the insanely huge calf that bounced with a slow
rhythm before them. It was the size of an inflatable exercise ball at its
thickest point, but tapered down to a slightly cleft diamond shape as it
approached her ankle. He turned to look over at her, his curiosity beginning
to wax as his shock finally ebbed away entirely "" and then came the shock
again, because his shoulder was no higher than the swell of the thigh next to
him, while he could feel the depression in the couch formed by the lower edge
of that thigh where it met her ass.

"I expected you to pass out." she smiled down at him. He still stared, now
trying to take her all in. "Want another look?" she asked; then, without
waiting for his answer, she stood again. "Sorry, I should take these off.
There wasn't really any information about your house in the entry about you, I
thought the ceilings would be taller." So saying, she looked down. Without
further warning, the straps that held her high heels to her bulging calves let
go with a pair of clicks and quickly retracted into the tops of the shoes,
allowing her to simply step off of them.

"Damn!" Ty breathed. "What kind of shoes are those?"

"Sciarri & Del Monico." she smiled. "You like?"

"Who?" he blinked. "Never mind. How ... " he cleared his throat. "How tall are
you, anyway?"

She smiled. "262." At his perplexed expression, she shook her head. "Sorry,
you don't use metric yet. Eight-foot-six. And I weigh 417 pounds."

"I wasn't going to ask a lady that." he found himself smiling. She giggled.
Then he shook his head. "There's no way ... I mean, nobody in the world is
that big."

"Actually," she bounced her calf more prominently, then flexed it hard,
causing it to bulge even larger and harder. "I'm a little small for my age."

"Small?!" Ty gaped. "You're gigantic! Wait "" how old are you?"

She giggled. "19. I'm still in university "" that's why I'm here. You and the
first Chronolink ever "" your time machine "" are my research assignment."

It took him a moment to decide what to say. He reached out to the coffee table
and took his coffee mug back in hand. It had cooled enough that a drink
wouldn't hurt him, so he took one while he tried to figure out how to proceed.
"I'm your research assignment." was the best he could come up with.

She nodded. "The Chronolink is your invention, so for my History 301 class,
I"""

His head snapped toward her and a slosh of coffee jumped from the mug onto his
thigh unnoticed. "How do you know about that?" he demanded.

"I told you," she replied patiently. "History 301. My paper is going to be on
the inventor of the Chronolink and its subsequent development. From the time
your government appropriates the rights, through its refinement at DARPA/JDEF
all the way up until Apple releases the first commercial model in 2124." As
she explained all this, he tried again to take it in, but with her standing,
now barefoot, before him, he was more than somewhat distracted. "And you
didn't hear half of what I just said, did you?" she giggled again.

He shook his head as his eyes slowly, part by part, rose and took in the sight
of her. Coincidentally enough, she did seem to be dressed somewhat like a
modest schoolgirl, though with her build, a burlap sack couldn't have rendered
her visual impact modest.

Her feet and calves were encased in a second skin of sheer gray stockings. Her
knees were shadowed by a black skirt that rose the length of those impossibly
large thighs to a comparatively slender waist hugged by a wide black belt of a
semi-shiny material that resembled latex, but only as closely as a second
cousin. Into the skirt and belt was tucked a white blouse that hugged her
torso, covering every curve so tightly that it left as little to the
imagination as the law would permit.

Her hair was long, reaching her ass, black as night and wild with loose curls.
Her face was ... odd. Pretty, yet nearly alien in its proportions. Her mouth
and nose were perfectly formed; plump lips under black lipstick set off the
ivory of her flawless skin. Her nose was straight, slim and slight. Her eyes,
though, were what gave her face its truly exotic appearance. They were wide
set, larger than usual, and the irises were a shade of gray so pale that for a
moment he had to squint to be sure that she had irises at all.

"Don't be shy." she smiled and beckoned him to her with her finger. "Come on."

He set down the coffee mug and made to get up from the couch "" and that's
when he realized that he was sporting an erection. It was still at half-mast,
but it would definitely be noticeable in his khaki trousers if he stood. "I,
uh ... "

"I already noticed that." she giggled. "Didn't I just say you shouldn't be
shy? Come here "" I won't hurt you." His expression at that was skeptical, of
course. She was simply too massive for him to believe that she wouldn't, even
if only by pure accident.

Still, he stood, blushing ferociously, and made his way slowly to stand in
front of her. "A little closer ... " she draped a hand over his shoulder and
pulled him to her until their bodies touched. His erection went from half to
full, aching alertness almost instantly. Was it just her pheromones? I could
practically smell them. Or was it that the sight and, more importantly, the
touch of such a large woman, practically still a teenaged girl, was genuinely
exciting to him? Was it where his face was?

Because there was certainly something to that "" his face was pressed into the
cloth of her skirt, the wide belt just above his hairline. And every breath he
took filled his lungs with her scent.

"Try to get your arms around my thighs." she said with amusement in her voice.
He tried "" with his arms fully outstretched, his fingers splayed wide to
stretch a little further, he couldn't even reach the sides of them. But he
could feel them "" massive mountains and deep crevasses of muscle as hard as
oak lay beneath the soft fabric and, if the touch of her hand was any
indication, skin as soft and smooth as silk.

"Now look up." she suggested. "Straight up." He did, craning his neck back as
far as it would go. He couldn't see her face. The bustline of her blouse
projected over his head and then some, entirely hiding her face from his
vantage point below.

"I can't see anything but your shirt." he found himself half-gasping,
half-laughing.

"It's in the way, is it?" she asked. She reached up with the hand that wasn't
holding Ty to her thighs and her finger vanished over the crest of her tits
for a moment. When it reappeared, she was pulling it downward "" just her
fingertip "" but the shirt was opening behind it as an invisible seam detected
it.

"That's amazing!" Ty watched the garment open. "Is that magneh ... tic ... ?"
His voice failed as her exposed breasts came into view "" huge, glorious orbs
of firm, flawless flesh that stood proudly defying gravity more than two feet
over his head.

She released his shoulder and he stepped back to look up. "Good ... God!" he
exclaimed, his eyes wide and his jaw going slack. Her finger continued to
press a hidden key on her belt. The belt released from the side with a soft
click, and she drew her finger down the hem of the skirt, allowing it to
whisper to the floor beside the blouse.

Then she stood before him entirely nude, and his eyes flickered up and down,
from side to side. Her shoulders were thick caps of faintly striated muscle
under ivory skin, their breadth twice his. Her neck showed a cord of muscle as
thick as his wrist on either side, but it long and that gave it a slender
look. Her upper arms were each as thick as his thigh, maybe more, with bulging
biceps that each sported a vein as thick as his thumb.

The scent of her was now nearly overwhelming, yet soothing, pleasant; he
seemed to feel almost sleepy as she turned and straightened the arm facing
him. She flexed her triceps and forearm, and the triceps bulged in a horseshoe
that left a valley deep enough that he could have buried his face in it, while
her forearm rippled with thick cords of muscle that matched it for hardness.

"How big ... ?" he whispered.

"You want to know my measurements?" she arched a delicate eyebrow and smirked.
"I'll have to do the math for metric to ... never mind that. 68G-46-74." She
turned back toward him, lifted her arm to strike a single biceps pose. "These
babies are 32 inches. My calves are 36." She lifted her other arm, then,
crossed her hands behind her head, and thrust out her right leg. "And these
... " she shook her thigh, slowly at first, then rapidly, and suddenly
snap-flexed it hard, the thick, steep curve of its outer bulk striating deeply
as the teardrop-shape at her knee, bigger than his head, pushed a cord of
steel muscle as thick as his arm into relief from there to her hip. "These are
49 and a half inches."

The entire time, Ty had felt there was something he should have been doing but
wasn't "" but what that thing was couldn't seem to crowd its way into his mind
quite far enough to get his immediate attention. She was walking toward him,
then, with a big smile to go along with her big everything-else, and just
before she reached him, he realized what it was he should have been doing.
Breathing.

That's when he passed out.

He wasn't out for long, of course. He came around as soon as he felt her hand
on his cheek "" covering his cheek, in point of fact "" he came around pretty
quickly, and looked up to see a sculpted ankle, a bulging calf, a relatively
delicate knee, a monstrous thigh, the neatly trimmed landing strip of her
pubic hair, then closed his eyes again "" but he hadn't gone from the world
this time.

"Hey!" her voice was concerned as she hunkered down over him and slapped his
cheek lightly. "Come on, now, no sleeping on the job!" He looked up to see her
looking down at him, and although she now entirely filled his vision ""
peripheral vision included "" he managed to stay with the world.

He sat up, and she reached down "" he felt her hands slide under his arms and
she lifted him to his feet as though he weighed no more than one of the
pillows on his couch. "I still have to find out about you, you know." She had
continued lifting him, and now his feet were feet from the floor; she smiled
as she said it, now looking into his eyes.

"Sorry." he shook his head. "I've just never ... a woman your size isn't even
possible. Even in the future "" that's where you want me to believe you come
from, of course."

"Of course." she continued smiling, her eyes wrinkled just slightly at the
corners. "I know there are no women my size in 2012, don't be silly. I'm not
from 2012, though. I'm from 2854."

He laughed. "Shouldn't that be, '2854 by your primitive calendar' or
something?"

She tilted her head back and laughed a full throated laugh that shook her ""
and shook him in her grip. After a moment, she quieted down. "Why would I say
that? Of course it's by your 'primitive' calendar "" why would I bother to
tell you that it's 842 A.C.T. on mine? You wouldn't know what I'm talking
about!"

"After Chronological Transport." he guessed; this time, it was her turn to
look surprised.

"I'm not the one ... " she murmured, her expression stricken. She set him down
and stepped back, turned away.

"The one what?" he asked, concerned now and a little heartbroken himself to
see the look on her face. "I was guessing. The what?"

She paused. "You mean I am the first girl my size to visit you?" She drew a
finger across her cheek just below her eye. Her eyes turned back to him, big
and pleading.

"Well, duh!" he answered. "I ... why did that upset you? I'm just really good
at guessing acronyms. What did ... what did you mean by 'the one'?"

"I can't tell you that." she said, perhaps just a little too quickly. "Can I
see it? The Chronolink?"

"Oh!" he almost jumped in his excitement, then paused, then shrugged. "Sure, I
guess so."

She laughed as she walked back to him, her sheer physical presence
overpowering. "What was that about?"

"Well, for a second I was worried about showing it to anyone, in case ... "

"In case I decided to steal the idea?"

He nodded. "And then, well ... you probably have a twelfth generation version
of it at home." He led her back toward the garage.

"Well, not exactly." she said from behind and far above him, a sensation that
messed with his brain more than a little. "You have to be rich to afford the
registration and licensing to own one privately. We're using the ones from the
History lab. See?"

As he stepped into the garage, with her having to duck low to pass through the
doorway behind him, they both stopped and stared "" she at his machine and he
at hers. Hers was a tiny device, approximately the size of an iPod Shuffle ""
just a square of blue plastic with the numbers 842 stenciled on it in white,
beside which were three silver buttons.

"Here's where we are now ... " She pressed one and the numbers disappeared to
be replaced by 0. "And here's where I'm going back to when we're done here."
She pressed again and the 842 reappeared. "The two on either side select your
chrono preset, and the one in the middle sends you there."

"Like on a radio." he noted, preoccupied with alternately staring at the tiny
thing and then staring at his own relatively crude, primitive version.

"A what?" she asked, the concrete floor vibrating slightly as she took a few
steps closer to his machine, squatted to look more closely at it, her gigantic
thigh and calf hiding it entirely from view. She herself was now preoccupied,
staring in wonder. "I've never seen one this old ... " she sounded, for the
first time, like the schoolgirl she was, struck with awe at the sense of being
in the same room with living history.

After a long moment, she stood, blushed, and said. "I'll be right back "" I
was supposed to get video of this for my project, but I left my cap in my
blouse." While he tried to figure out what she'd just said, and decided that
'cap' was short for 'capture' and referred to her camera, he sat down to take
another bite of his breakfast "" he'd entirely forgotten that it had even been
sitting there, though it had been no more than five minutes.

He wanted her, there was no doubt of that. His cock was still a raging
flagpole that made sitting even on the work stool uncomfortable, distracted
him from his bacon and eggs. What he did doubt was how much it was wanting
her, how much of it was her pheromones, which still haunted the room, and how
much was that he still wasn't entirely sure this whole thing wasn't the
strangest wet dream he'd ever had.

It was then that he realized that it didn't matter which it was. Whatever the
cause of his wanting her, it was simply and indisputably a fact that he did
want her. Not just physically, but intellectually; he was curious about what
it would be like to be with a woman her size. Just being pressed gently
against her was overwhelming; what would it be like to be in her, moving
inside her, feeling her grip on him? For that matter, would she be able to
grip him? The rest of her was so large that the question bore asking.

Either way, he found the logic solid and incontrovertible "" he was an amateur
inventor. That made him a scientist. And the driving force behind every
scientist was the need to know. He wanted to know. With most women he'd ever
met, that meant a lot of maneuvering, strategy ... getting into a normal
woman's pants was like a game of Chess. But this one was so open and herself.
And there was that thing about her not being the 'one', how she'd seemingly
been on the verge of tears at the thought ...

Her head of dark curls slipped back into the garage, followed by shoulders,
breasts, the rest of her. She straightened to her full height and looked down
at him as he mopped up the last of the eggs and Sriracha with the last corner
of his toast. "Excelsior!" she said, and as he was about to ask, with his
mouth full, what she meant by that, there was a flash of light and a click.
She had held up a thin silver rod and, as he watched, a black square faded
into view next to it. She giggled.

"What's so funny?" he couldn't help but sound indignant.

"Here, look!" she continued to giggle as she turned it around and extended it
to him so it could see. He tried taking hold of it by the other end of the
square, but his thumb and forefinger passed through it like water. With a
Hmph! he took it by the silver rod instead. It was a perfectly
three-dimensional representation of him with a mouthful of toast, the corner
sticking out of the corner of his mouth and one of his eyes half-closed.

"Gah!" he choked. "Retake it!" She took the cap back, no longer giggling but
roaring with laughter now, and after a moment he couldn't help but laugh with
her. It took them both a minute to settle down before he straightened up in
his chair, looked up at her with his best Dashing Inventor look. "Would you go
out for dinner with me tonight?" he asked without thinking about it.

She dropped the cap and he expected it to break on the garage floor ""
instead, it froze and hovered an inch from the stained concrete. "Sorry?"

He felt his insides do a slow turn. It was out now; no use pretending he
hadn't asked. It was all or nothing. "I said, would you like to go out to
dinner with me tonight."

She moved so fast that he felt his blood chill to ice, afraid for a moment
that he had angered her just by asking and that she was now on the warpath,
about to tear him limb from limb "" which she was obviously more than capable
of doing. Instead, she scooped him off the floor, hoisted him up and crushed
him to her, her huge tits partially flattening against him, partially
enveloping his chest, as she pressed her full, warm lips to his, parted them
and snaked her tongue into his mouth, practically raping him with a long, hot,
wet kiss.

The kiss would have knocked him off his feet "" if he'd been on his feet.
She'd lifted him bodily off the floor, was holding him up by his armpits as
she kissed him. He could feel her overwhelming presence, inhaled her scent,
felt her hair on his cheeks as it formed a dark curtain that hid their mouths
from the world.

He resisted her at first "" not because the kiss was unwanted, but purely from
shock and bewilderment "" but his resistance was as meaningful to her as an
ant's might be to a boot. She simply crushed him tighter in her arms,
squeezing the air from his lungs and into her hungrily tasting mouth. He could
feel moisture tingling his knee through his khakis, and knew that she was wet
and wanting; his erection was aching it was so huge and hard, and he knew that
she could feel it.

Finally, she broke the kiss and stared at him intently, not letting him go.
"Dinner sounds good." she whispered. He wondered, briefly, if "dinner" was
some kind of euphemism in her time, and decided that it probably was. Then she
added, "But breakfast sounds even better."

"There's someone at the door." someone said, and it took Ty a moment to
recognize Betty's voice.

"Looks like Betty's back online." he murmured. "I'd better go see who that
is."

She sighed. "I know who it is. It's Mara and Kyana." She reluctantly set him
back on his feet, then picked up her cap and began taking snapshots of his
time machine. "Just to warn you, you'll see what I meant about me being small
for my age when you answer the door."

He shrugged and left her there taking pictures, not at all sure how anyone
could be bigger than her but resigned to dealing with more company. What he
really wanted to do was climb her like a tree and fuck her brains out.

His erection was still at aching attention when he reached the front door, but
if it didn't bother the guest he already had, he didn't believe it would
bother her friends. He turned the knob and swung the door wide. "Yes? Can I
... " his voice trailed off.

They were bigger. A lot bigger. The first girl, a redhead, had to crawl in on
her hands and knees "" and that was after she'd turned on her side so that her
hips could pass through the doorway. The second girl, a blonde, did the same,
but her hips caught and forced her to shimmy her way through.

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