ABX  Part 2
by Marknew
Cosmic Energy, Genetic Therapy -- what more does a woman need?


20

Lisabeth was having a busy day gathering new abilities. The boys were easy.
David Lister's eyes nearly came out of his head when brushed against him as he
carried his cello to orchestra rehearsal. Did he notice how easily she lifted
it out of his hands and put it aside while pushing him onto the ground for a
quick hand job? Probably not, since his head was buried under her sweater most
of the time. She still couldn't play the cello. Not yet, at least, but she had
perfect pitch, she could pick out each line in a four part harmony, and could
physically feel the difference between a minor chord and a diminished seventh.
Harvey Won was even easier. She cornered him after class and asked him to
demonstrate a stage kiss, except Lisabeth did it wrong, meeting his lips
instead of his cheek. Not that he seemed to mind. It was Lisabeth who had to
break it off, after she had been off on a strange fugue similar to what she
had experienced with Jake. When she had come to, she shocked Harvey with her
mimicry of Crystal's sex-crazed come-on and then silenced him doing Jennifer's
female scorn. Renee was the next to fall. A promiscuous bisexual, Renee was
all over Lisabeth from the moment Lisabeth swayed suggestively into view. She
was much more disappointed when after a few langurous kisses Lisabeth
pirouetted away. Claire was the most difficult. Prissy, stuck-up, superior
Claire. She and Lisabeth had never been friends, and once Lisabeth associated
with the small campus lesbian set, Claire looked at her with the haughty
disregard of the saved toward the perverted spawn of Satan. Still, she sang
like an angel, and when she switched on her Voice, it sent chills of longing
down the spine of each man and woman within earshot. Claire would never allow
her holy lips to touch Lisabeth's and would surely press charges if Lisabeth
ever forced herself on her. But there was another way.

Lisabeth makes herself an apron like the ones used by the Center's servers and
strolls through the Dining Center until she finds her prey at lunch lecturing
a mixed table of choirboys and Christians on the virtues of abstinence.
Lisabeth hovers nearby, drawing the guiltily lustful stares of the choirboys
and the reproachful glares of the others. Finally, Claire stops her preaching
and turns to discover the source of the distraction. "Oh, it's you! They let
your kind work here? What do you want? You can't have our trays. We're not
done."

Lisabeth shrugs. She looks at the glass of Sprite on Claire's tray. "How do
you like your pop tonight?"

"You INTERRUPT me to ask me THAT?" She shakes her head and turned away and
returns to her lecture. She prattles on and then, even more annoyed, turns
around again. "Will you please LEAVE until we're done?"

"How is it?"

Claire takes a drink. "Fine. Absolutely fine. Satisfied?"

Lisabeth smiles. "Sure. I'm supposed to tell everyone. We've shut down the
Sprite dispenser. Contaminated. Obviously the bacteria doesn't affect the
taste".

Claire turns red. She spits repeatedly into the glass. "You witch! WITCH! NOW
you tell me? I'm poisoned!" She runs to the bathroom to purge herself.

Lisabeth shrugs. She picks up Claire's tray. "Stay away from the Sprite. The
Coke's fine, though. They think. Let the service know if you feel sick. If it
were me, though, I'd stick with the water."

She carries the tray across the roomand then sits down and finishes Claire's
Sprite.

[VOCAL CHORD STRUCTURE UNIQUE BREATH CONTROL HIGH SYMPATHY BETWEEN BRAIN'S
MUSICAL CENTER AND NEURO-MUSCULAR CONTROL. FILTERING]

ABXTGCCACCGTACCATTCTGAA....

It has been a busy morning. A few hours in the sun would suit her. She is sure
she will find Carolyn soon.

21

Now, in Lundstedt's, a popular bar in nearby Aggieville, the room smells of
beer, smoke, sweat and beer. The music alternates between loud country and
louder country. It barely masks the hoots, cheers and jeers of the students
ringed around the long wooden table where Lisabeth sits at the end, leaning
back confidently, laughing loudly. She wears a sleeveless top and no bra, and
each time she wins she laughs more loudly, seemingly heedless of the leering
looks the increasingly drunk boys arrayed around her are casting at her
breasts and her continually erect nipples.

"NO, NO! You don't know how to do it EITHER! I keep TELLING you guys the trick
and you AREN'T PAYING ATTENTION." Her opponent looks abashed as the others
jeer him even more loudly. "Now, now, don't look so down. Is the penalty SO
awful?" He looks sheepish as Lisabeth puts her long arms around him and draws
him closer, without any resistance. "That's right. Give Lizzie her kissie, but
first tell me your name and what you're really good at. I KNOW it's not
arm-wrestling." More hoots and jeers.

"Cal Maloney," he says quietly. "Math, I guess. And baseball."

"Another MATH expert?" She holds him away. "You HAVE to do better than THAT.
Baseball? What makes you so good at baseball?"

Cal shrugs. "I dunno. I see the ball real good, I guess. It's hard to fool me
with a curve, like I can see the seams and how the ball's spinning. Quick
reflexes too. And," he whispers "I write poetry too. But don't tell any of the
guys. They'd never stop teasing me."

Lisabeth licks her lips. "Sounds v-e-r-y sexy to me." She extends her long
arms and her fingers dance along his back, spider-like, drawing him in to her
lips. "Well, come ON then. Let's have a taste." They kiss briefly.

[USEFUL MORE.]

Lisabeth prolongs the kiss, her tongue dances around his mouth, drawing his
inside hers, tasting more.

[ENOUGH REFLEXES SUPERIOR VISION UNUSUAL VERBAL SKILLS IMAGINATION AWKWARD,
FEARFUL SHY FILTERING]

GATACABXATTGACCAGTTCABXGGAT...]

She breaks the kiss. "Very nice. Maybe again, some other day, hey?"

Cal is breathing hard and is staring lustfully at Lisabeth's chest. He reaches
for her but she even more quickly intercepts him and takes his hand in her
slightly larger one.

"Uh-uh-uh! Lizzie says time to stop. And what happens to boys who don't stop
when they're told to?" She tightens her grip on his hand. "Do you want to find
out?" He says nothing and the pressure increases. "I bet you need these
fingers to hold that little baseball bat, don't you?"

"Let go, please," he begs quietly, hoping that no one there other than
Lisabeth hears his plea.

Before she decides that he has been disciplined sufficiently, another hand
grasps hers and pries her fingers open. "There was no need for that," he says,
disapprovingly.

She turns to the tall dark-haired boy, annoyed at him for spoiling her fun.

He is nearly her height, with a square jaw and broad shoulders, but not
unusually muscular. "I wouldn't have hurt him -- once he paid more attention."

The dark-haired boy looks sympathetically at Cal, who is clenching and
unclenching his fist. "Looks like you have some grip. Maybe you need to be a
little more careful of your strength."

Lisabeth waves her hand dismissingly. "I know a few tricks. They're enough to
beat this lot in arm-wrestling. Maybe you'd like to try your luck. I haven't
lost tonight. Maybe you can redeem the honor for the boys. You seem as though
you might be strong enough."

The boy chuckles. "Maybe. What are the stakes?"

"You can decide what you want if you win. For me, I usually settle for a
kiss."

He raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Sounds like I can't lose."

"Of course not. I'm really not a bad sort at all," she grins, baring her
perfect white teeth, "even though I do intend to win."

"We'll see about that," he says, laughing.

The two prepare for the match and the cheering begins. Lisabeth grips the
boy's hand tightly but to her surprise he doesn't grimace and gives her a
slightly painful squeeze back. She lets out a little, "oh!" and he eases up a
bit. The referee shouts "Start!" and Lisabeth pushes hard to get the
advantage. The boy's arm drops but he halts her after a few inches and works
his way back to even and then starts to push her over the top.

[STRONG. STRONG! GET HIM!]

[I know. I know!]

For the first time this evening Lisabeth is exerting herself, calling on
energy and muscle she was keeping hidden in reserve. She steadily increases
the pressure and halts his advance but she cannot push him over the top. She
pushes harder and glances at his face. He looks surprised. His eyebrows are
raised. He is biting his lip but her intuition tells her something is slightly
off, as if his effort is pretended, like hers was earlier.

He notices her look and laughs quickly. "You're pretty strong, you know," he
says, sounding a bit labored, but Lisabeth can see that his face isn't at all
flushed.

[DIFFERENT ENERGY]

[You're telling me!]

[WANT IT WANT IT]

"Lisabeth! What are you doing here? You're one person I never thought I'd see
in a bar, surrounded by all these men!"

She turns slightly, not letting go of the boy's hand. "Carolyn! I've been
looking all over for you. They let you out of the language lab?" Lisabeth
senses a sudden slackening of his effort and quickly pushes his hand to the
table.

"Ha!" she says in triumph.

"Hey, I thought you were stopping to ch--," he says, then adds good-naturedly,
"Well done. I suppose you've won." He leans back into his seat.

"I didn't ask for time," she states.

"No, of course not. So what did you say were the stakes? I think I remember
something about a kiss."

"That's right." She leans over toward his mouth. He doesn't look it, but his
strength was phenomenal, and soon she'd have it too. He swallows, not wanting
to look interested and glances nervously behind him.

"Are you really going to make him kiss you?" Carolyn interrupts.

Lisabeth holds the boy's face. "Yes," she says, determined to get her prize.
She plants her lips on his.

[YES MORE]

She closes her eyes, prolonging it. She can taste him, a different kind of
taste.

[Well?]

[Well?]

He breaks off the kiss. "Look, er, I um have a friend here ...." He stands up,
as does Lisabeth. He turns to go.

[Well?]

[RESISTING COMBINATION UNABLE TO PROCESS NEED FUNDAMENTAL GENETIC MATERIAL.]

Lisabeth watches him walk away.

[Sperm? Somehow, I don't think he's the type to just give it to me.]

Carolyn is looking directly into Lisabeth's chest. "Hey! You up there."
Lisabeth looks down. "Why, it's true! If they hadn't told me, I'd never have
believed it's you!"

"Oh! Sorry. Carolyn!" Lisabeth pretends joy and surprise and leans down to
give Carolyn a kiss on the lips, but she turns her head at the last moment and
Lisabeth's lips land on her cheek. "Oh, yes ... my little growth spurt. Hey
boys, got another engagement now. We can play more some other time." She looks
hungrily at Carolyn's lips and guides her away from the male pack, each
waiting for his turn.

"Just don't start that with me, Lisabeth. You know we're just friends. I don't
go for girls."

"Nothing wrong with a kiss between friends," Lisabeth sniffs.

Carolyn doesn't answer that, but says, "Since when did you become such a
kisser? Anyway, I'm not exactly keen on getting the germs from the whole
Wildcat team, plus him. Come over and join us, if you can tear yourself away
from the guys here.. I'm here with Chloe, someone I knew from summer camp.
She's visiting that guy you were just arm-wrestling. He's a student here, I
think."

Lisabeth pouts but realizes her sexy expression isn't working on Carolyn, so
she drops it and comes along, waiting for another opportunity.

They reach the table and Carolyn slides into the booth next to Chloe.
"Lisabeth, Chloe." Lisabeth reaches over and they shake hands and then
Lisabeth sits down, moving the chair backwards so that she has enough room.
"And that's Clark," Chloe says guardedly. Clark nods, a bit uncomfortable, and
shakes Lisabeth's hand before looking away from her spectacular chest. Chloe
also tries hard not to stare at Lisabeth but her curiosity gets the better of
her.

"I was watching you. You must be pretty strong, beating all those guys -- and
Clark."

"Well, I beat him when he got distracted. Just a little trick."

"Still. So, where exactly in Kansas are you from, Lisabeth?"

"Oh, I never lived here until I started here at State. I'm from Illinois."

"Really? It's just that a lot of strange things happen in this State."

Carolyn chips in. "And Chloe likes to write about them. She was just telling
me she interns at a big city newspaper."

"It's not that special. Just me at a little desk in a big badly lit room."

"C'mon Chloe, it's a long way from the Camp Chitaqua Gazette, and even from
your high school newspaper."

Chloe looks down at the table, embarrassed. "Well, maybe."

"Sounds very impressive to me," Lisabeth echoes and then points her thumb at
the table she had just left. "What's going on there?" She turns her head.

"Those boys look all worked up, like they're planning something," Chloe says.

"Do you think we should get --

The sound of chairs moving is followed by stomping, and their table is
surrounded. "We want you to finish the matches," two of the boys say, "like
you promised. And this time the loser strips."

"Tops first," another adds.

"Or we'll start with her," a fourth says, looking at Chloe.

"Um, boys," Lisabeth interrupts. "I don't want another match now, but maybe
some other time, if there's anyone new who wants --

One of the boys starts pulling at Chloe's top. "What we want is --

Clark stands up. "I'm sure these fellas don't really mean it." He firmly
removes the boy's hand from Chloe. "You know about that new Code of Conduct
for the sports teams, right? Hey, Cal, how about it?"

Cal looks down, embarrassed but others are staring at Lisabeth's body and are
still hot to continue.

"I don't see why some ex-small town football player needs to be involved in
any of this," says one. She's the one who challenged us," he says angrily,
pointing to Lisabeth. "She wants to make us look like a bunch of wusses. She's
gotta be afraid we figured out her trick, and now she wants to quit, but she's
gotta finish what she started." He gets closer and thrusts his jaw menacingly
up at Lisabeth. She stares down at him impassively, challenging him but not
really ready for a fight.

Another pushes his way between them. "This guy's right Archie. Let's cool it.
People are watching us." The boys look threateningly at Lisabeth. "All right
then, for now. Come on guys. We can drink somewhere else!" They turn as one
and stalk off.

"Is that what happens when you kiss guys, Lisabeth?" Carolyn teases. "I can
see why you don't like to --

"Um, so, thanks so much, Clark," Lisabeth interrupts. "They were ... a bit
scary. So you invited your girlfriend down for a visit?"

Chloe speaks up. "That's not quite it. Clark and I are old friends. I needed
his help for ... a story."

"Ohhh." Lisabeth leans forward and flashes her eyes at Clark. She switches on
her new Voice. "It was very dramatic the way you took care of those guys for
us. They said you're a jock too -- you certainly have the build for it -- and
you used to play football, but you're not at all like them, are you?" Clark's
eyes drop to her chest and he blushes. "I have a feeling you're more the kind
of guy who gets girls out of trouble, instead of into it. Am I right?" "Well,
I'd hope ..." he begins, blushing more deeply.

Chloe sees what Lisabeth is doing and is steaming mad.

"I'm sorry Carolyn, but, Clark, now that you're here, shouldn't we be going?"
Chloe suggests, glaring at Lisabeth.

Lisabeth protests but returns to her normal speaking voice. "Oh, please don't
leave yet. Those boys could be waiting for me right outside. I think we need
to stay for awhile and stick together. I feel much safer with Clark here."

"If you ask me, Clark, I'd say Lisabeth here can take care of herself. Just
look at her."

Clark immediately complies. His eyes range thoroughly over her body, and
Lisabeth obligingly helps by keeping her arms relaxed and twisting her
shoulders to ensure he sees all the angles.

"Um, I think Lisabeth does have a point, Chloe," Clark says finally, his eyes
now securely attached to Lisabeth's piercing blue gaze. "What got them so
worked up in the first place?" he adds, pretending ignorance of Lisabeth's
obvious attractions.

"It was a little game we were playing -- all for a good cause -- but it got
out of hand. I'm glad Carolyn and you gave me a good excuse to stop it. I
really didn't know what to do to get away from them."

"Poor Lisabeth," Carolyn says, patting Lisabeth's hand. Lisabeth feels a
slight wetness. Carolyn had just wiped her mouth after a swig of beer.
Lisabeth raises her hand to her mouth and sucks on it.

[GOOD! LINGUISTIC BRAIN INSTINCTIVE INTUITIVE INTERPRETING UNDERSTANDING ...
FILTERING.]

GATACATTABXCGATGAATGTCAAT....

"She wasn't always like this," Carolyn is explaining. "I hadn't seen her for a
month, and see how she's gone from average to extra-large, with muscle too and
more than a bit of sex appeal -- even though I'M NOT into the female brand,
Lisabeth!"

"Noted, Carolyn," Lisabeth says, feeling a new set of sensations through her
brain, a new sensitivity to communication. She keeps her eyes on Clark.

"Though maybe she's not into only girls now," Carolyn adds mischievously, her
eyes dancing between Clark and Lisabeth.

Lisabeth too has become keenly aware of the dynamic between Chloe and Clark,
one which is plainly asymmetrical. Perhaps it would not be too hard to make it
even more asymmetric.

"That kind of growth sounds a bit weird to me," Chloe says. "'Wall of Weird'
weird," she adds in a whisper that only Clark hears above the din. "Maybe you
should see a doctor," she adds in her normal clear voice.

Lisabeth looks hurt. "Now you're saying I'm weird? Sick? You don't think I
look sick, do you, Chloe?" Lisabeth says firmly, careful not to sound like
she's attacking her and then, to give Clark another excuse to look at her, she
leans forward and adds, once again making her voice as sexy as she can, "Do
you, Clark?" she concludes, her Voice giving an extra emphasis on his name,
which makes Clark shudder. His eyes sweep around Lisabeth's dramatic curves,
and then lock onto her chest, his brain whirling, struggling to gauge the full
depth of her full breasts. His eyes stray to consider her rounded biceps and
then resume their reconnaissance around her body as he ponders in what
possible way she could be said to be unwell. He can't think of a single one.

In fact, he is having some trouble thinking. "Ummm, no. I don't think so," he
says at last. Realizing only now that he's staring he turns to Chloe. "Y-yes.
Yes. We should go."

Lisabeth nods and extends her hand to Chloe. "Well, I'm sure it's fine out
there now. So ... nice to meet you! Good luck with your story."

Chloe takes it reluctantly and smiles plastically.

Lisabeth rises and stands very close to Clark, but she does not extend her
hand this time. "Bye, Clark. I'm really glad we've met. And thanks so much for
helping with those boys."

He smiles, unsure whether to shake her hand, kiss her or do nothing. He
settles on the last as the safest, but just before they separate, Lisabeth
leans forward and kisses him on the cheek. "Bye!" she repeats. "For now," she
adds, very, very quietly.

She can tell by the way he walks away that he heard every word.

22

It is nearly eleven o'clock. Jennifer is in the basement of the student
center, having just finished leading the women's self-defense class, and is
rearranging the mats. She hears a door open and a heavy tread on the stairs.
She checks the exits and moves toward one of them, on the opposite side of the
entrance to the room, which she unlocks and opens. The other door opens
abruptly and Lisabeth enters boldly, her hair glowing, her face red from the
harsh wind, although she is wearing only a sweater, flaming bright red and
hugging her body tightly across her chest, displaying the shape of the breasts
that she well knows draw Jennifer's eager attention. Jennifer looks at them
fixedly and then coldly raises narrowed eyes to Lisabeth's face. "So ... it's
you. Finally. Well, I knew you'd come around."

Lisabeth walks toward Jennifer confidently, at an even pace, not speaking
until she's almost next to her. "Did you?" Lisabeth looks around the room as
if it holds just as much interest to her as Jennifer does. It is so familiar
but seems so much smaller. Everything, everyone is smaller. Even Jennifer.
Especially Jennifer.

Jennifer watches her. She wants to keep the door open, to show Lisabeth
there's nothing between them that needs privacy, but looking at Lisabeth's
astonishing body, her wildly feminine curves, her dazzling hair, her eyes, her
voice, she can't close off the possibility. She wants her more than ever. She
closes the door to leave that possibility open. But not very open. "Oh yes,"
Jennifer says coldly. "You're here to test the 'new' you on me, don't you? To
show yourself how you've moved 'beyond' me. But you haven't, you know. You're
just backsliding, back into the mainstream that I helped you crawl out of
before it drowned you. Well you're welcome to it. To be an anonymous object of
male desire, to let them slather you with their scum. Go ahead. Get dirty. You
won't get what you need from them."

"How do you know what I need?" Lisabeth replies haughtily. Jennifer can't know
how much she has gotten. What there is for her to get. "I'm nothing like what
I used to be!"

"Oh, I know. I've always known who you are and what you needed. Why do you
think you come around here? Even though you complain that I hurt you? Time and
time again. In public and in private. At meals and in bed. I know you far
better than you'll ever know yourself, than anyone will ever know you. And you
can't resist it. As big as you may have grown, I'm still the one who knows the
tender, vulnerable, meek little Lisabeth inside. I know her very, very well.
She can't help getting hurt. Anyone can hurt my little girl, but when I want
to I take care of her, talk to her, kiss her and protect her, better than
anyone ever has or ever will. Who else would you trust to do that? Why else
have you, you disgusting meat-eater, you pandering sex-goddess-whore, come
back to me now? For praise? For admiration? Or for what you really need?"

Lisabeth feels Jennifer's scorn as a body blow. What right does she have? Why
can she still hurt me? I am so much more than she is. But a small voice
inside, not ABX, no, her old friend, the one that she hasn't heard from for
days, weeks, since ABX, wants Jennifer. 'Being big, being strong can't protect
me. Only Jennifer can,' it says.

"You know it's true, don't you, darling?" Jennifer can feel Lisabeth's
uncertainty. She's winning. Lisabeth hasn't a chance.

[SHE IS SO STRONG IN HER SELF-BELIEF HER SELFISHNESS IS ALL SO KISS HER.]

[Never. It would be so weak. It would prove to her she's better than me, that
she has won.]

[YOU MUST OR SHE WILL WIN.]

"You can't contradict me. You don't dare even talk. You never could. You know
I'm right. You'll give me what I want, because it's the price you have to
pay." Jennifer grabs Lisabeth's right breast. "Ah, look what I have. Look what
you've grown for me."

Lisabeth's eyes flutter. It's happening all over again. Even now. She wants to
crush Jennifer, but one voice pleads for her to submit, to bear the pain for
the peace that will surely be hers, if she can only please her.

[KISS HER!]

Lisabeth closes her eyes and bends down to kiss Jennifer, but instead feels a
stinging slap across her cheek. "A kiss?! After what you've done to me?
Turning MY friends against me? Three students tonight at self-defense class.
Twelve persons at the last group session. That's it, in this university of
20,000 students! Because of what YOU said about me! You'll have to humble
yourself far more, little girl, before you get a kiss from me!"

Enraged, Lisabeth whirls and slaps back, her strength lifting a surprised
Jennifer off her feet, although her practiced fighting skills take over and
she rolls with the blow and falls onto the mat clear of Lisabeth. She springs
to her feet and holds her hands up defensively. "Shall we try it? Do you want
to see what my little orange belt beginner can do against a black belt? I
won't hold back, darling, I promise. We'll see how pretty you look to the boys
after I'm finished with you." She whirls and feints with an elbow and shoves
her knee into Lisabeth's stomach and slides out of range. "Ha!" she cries out.

Lisabeth is startled but not badly hurt. She rubs her stomach where Jennifer
hit her and follows Jennifer slowly around the room, watching for an opening.
Seeing one, she charges, and Jennifer flathands her in her breast while
Lisabeth hits the side of Jennifer's chest with a glancing blow before she
rolls away. It hurts.

"You can't hurt me, little girl. You can hardly even see me without your
glasses."

Lisabeth blinks. Why, she doesn't know. She really doesn't know. She turns
toward Jennifer's voice and blinks again.

Jennifer moves toward her, feints a kick and then kicks hard at Lisabeth's
knee. Lisabeth jumps back and then catches Jennifer's leg. She pulls hard,
feeling Jennifer's well-toned muscles strain against her, but they are no
match for Lisabeth's and she pulls higher and twists. Jennifer lets out a cry
of pain and hits at Lisabeth, but she has no leverage for her blows. Lisabeth
drops Jennifer's leg and watches her limp painfully, barely able to support
herself.

"Damn! Fuck!" Jennifer curses. "That was dirty, owww, mean!"

"No meaner than hitting my breasts."

"That's for flaunting them in my face," Jennifer replies. Lisabeth approaches.
"Stay back!" She flails with one arm and Lisabeth catches it nimbly.

"I do see better now," she says calmly, squeezing Jennifer's upper arm and
bending it around.

Jennifer turns awkwardly, hopping on her good leg. "Owww. What are you DOING?
I can't fight now."

"I know. I still can." She wraps her other arm around Jennifer's chest and
starts to squeeze. "Does this hurt?" Jennifer shakes her head. Lisabeth
increases the pressure. "How about this? This?" She's squeezing very hard now,
using her new muscles, pushing up and down on Jennifer's flat chest, straight
through to her bones.

Jennifer is groaning. "Ow. Oooh. Can't breath ...what are you doing?" There's
a loud snap and another cry of pain. "Aaggh. You broke something."

Lisabeth feels strange inside, a quiet amazement. She lets go of Jennifer's
chest.

"What's wrong with you? Are you sick?" Jennifer gasps. "I need to get to a
doctor, right now. And you'll have to carry me there."

"It's a rib, I'm sure." Lisabeth says, walking around Jennifer. She holds her
steady. "But I promise, this won't hurt a bit," she adds, smiling, and pulls
her against her lips and kisses her hard, her tongue roughly invading
Jennifer's mouth.

[YES PROCESSING SINGLE-MINDED SELFISHNESS HIGH PERCEPTIVITY LACK OF EMPATHY.
SURVIVAL FOREMOST FILTERING]

ABXAAGACTTAGACCTGCAGGTACTA....

Lisabeth feels odd, as though everything around here is becoming clearer and
clearer. Decisions are so easy. Facts are facts. Opinions may be just opinions
but mine are right. It's all so obvious. She feels stronger than ever and she
knows just what to do with her strength. A small voice inside questioning what
she is about to do grows fainter and fainter. And then it's gone.

Her mouth is wet with Jennifer's kiss. She looks down at the gasping, limping
girl. "You've seen the weakness in me for years and used it to get what you
needed," Lisabeth says simply. "I've been abused." She pulls Jennifer into the
air holding her roughly under her arms. "I've always hated you for that."

"You always knew that. But you accepted it, because I gave you what you
needed." Jennifer says. "Owww. You're hurting me!"

"I know. I'd like to hurt you for years, but that's not practical. And you
wouldn't let me, at least not the way I let you."

Jennifer struggles to get free but Lisabeth holds her arms rigidly and any
movement in her good leg sends shooting pains up the one Lisabeth twisted.
Lisabeth smiles and lays her down on the mat, still holding her arms. "What's
gotten into you?" Jennifer says, frightened by the look in Lisabeth's eyes.

"You have, darling." Lisabeth says. She pins Jennifer's arms under her knee
and covers her mouth and nose tightly with her hand. With her other hand she
punches her hard, with all her strength, several times in the stomach, the
hard floor below forcing Jennifer's body to absorb all of the terrifying force
of the blow. With the first punch Jennifer's body contracts , her legs rising
weakly. With the second her eyes roll. She no longer resists but coughs
weakly, her body convulses in pain. With the third and the fourth there is
little reaction. Lisabeth removes her hand from Jennifer's mouth and wipes the
blood onto her gi. She's not breathing and there's no heartbeat. She kicks
Jennifer's purse next to her and removes $80 from her wallet and leaves it
open beside her, then turns out the light and leaves by the back door, walking
away quickly.

She circles the campus and returns to Crystal's room, where she had been until
10:30.

"Did you find her?" she asks, half asleep, wearing a t-shirt and panties.

"No, I waited for her in her room but she never came back."

"Good thing you still have a key. I told you she probably was teaching a class
tonight."

"Yeah, but I didn't want to see her, not with other people there. You know how
she can be, especially if she has an audience."

"I know. But I think it's really good of you to make the effort, though You
have to expect she won't react well to the changes in you. You're stronger and
more confident now. Jennifer has to be the one on top." Crystal snuggles
against Lisabeth's breasts. "For me, it doesn't matter at all. Top or bottom,
left or right, up or down, wheeeee," she squeals as Lisabeth lifts her up and
starts kissing her, working her way up her stomach to her breasts with her
tongue while easing a finger inside Crystal's panties. "Oh, I LOVE my
super-lizzy."

"And she loves you too, Cryssie."

23

"How did you get so strong, Lisabeth?" Amanda says in jealous admiration. "A
month ago we were about even. Now you're lifting, what, seven times what I can
do! Everything we're here you seem to be able to do another 50 pounds. It's
unreal."

"I suppose it is, Amanda. Can I spot you?"

"Sure. I feel almost embarrassed to be lifting these tiny things after you,
though."

"Don't be. We're not competing."

"It's a good thing. Uoof! Uh oh. Here's somebody who COULD be competing with
you! Uoof!"

Lisabeth looks where Amanda is pointing. "Duane! What a loser! Why would you
ever think that?"

"You keep avoiding him and it makes him madder and madder, ever since you sat
on his -- uooff! -- lap in the dining center."

"Just because I made him come he thinks he owns me."

"Well, he is a guy. Uoofff! What did you think you were you doing with him?"

"Exactly what I did."

"UUooof! Um, yeah, but, I hope you don't mind my asking, but why, if you don't
like him? She stops lifting to rest ... and talk. "You still DO prefer girls,
don't you." Lisabeth doesn't answer quickly. "So ... you have to think about
it. That means something," she teases.

"I'll tell you exactly what it means. Girls are prettier and more fun to
cuddle. They smell better, know more about how to please me, are more
interesting and fun to talk to, and, generally make better friends. But there
are some things only a man can do for me."

"Yes, that's the problem, Lisabeth. That's what straight women always struggle
with."

"It's not a problem, Amanda. I'm not looking for a relationship with a man."

"But I've seen you chase a few recently, since you broke with...." she trails
off. "I'm sorry. I was going to mention Jennifer."

"I know. Don't worry about it." Lisabeth gives Amanda a hand to stand up and
they walk away. Duane takes their place at the machine but keeps looking at
Lisabeth.

"I know you'd already broken up with her."

"It doesn't mean I don't still feel it."

"Of course not. But I hope you don't feel responsible. You couldn't have done
anything."

Lisabeth smiles. "You sure?"

Amanda turns to her quickly. "I know you're strong, but the person who killed
Jennifer must have been a real maniac. If you had been there anything could
have happened."

"If I had been there I would have taken care of her."

"I know you would have. Any of us would have." She sighs. "Are you ok?"
Lisabeth nods and puts her hand on Amanda's shoulder. "You want to go out for
dinner? I can't face dining center food tonight."

"Sure." She looks over her shoulder and watches Duane doing curls. "Hey,
Amanda. He uses lighter weights than I do. I think I'll say something to him."

Amanda digs her nails into Lisabeth's forearm. "Don't!"

Lisabeth laughs. "Like you could stop me if I wanted to?" But she goes
straight to the locker room with Amanda.

It is later that evening. Amanda and Lisabeth are eating dessert. Amanda is
sighing happily. "That was SO good. I can still taste the spice in the
chicken. What WAS this place before?"

"'The Cat's Dog.' I went once freshman year, before I'd met any of you."

"Really?" She looks off into the distance. "I'm just thinking about when we
first met. You were so shy, shut down, and so reticent about yourself. You
always let Jennifer do all the talking for you. At first I thought you were a
Jennifer clone, except for the reticence. It was only little by little that
you started expressing yourself." Lisabeth nodded, letting Amanda talk.

"And now, now that you've, I don't know, 'developed' so much in the last
month, I feel like some seed that you have in you has just ... sprouted."

"That's an interesting way to put it."

"Well, I don't really know any other way. I've never known of any woman
developing the way you have, not even around puberty when our bodies were
changing so quickly. I hope I'm not embarrassing you, talking about you like
this."

"No."

"I mean you grew seven inches practically overnight, developed muscles as big
or bigger than any guy on campus, a killer figure and a way of walking and
holding yourself that is so damn sexy ... and then of course the confidence,
the sharpness -- not that you weren't smart before."

"They say that a good dose of hormones, female hormones that is, does make you
smarter."

"Oh yes, I read that in a newspaper," Amanda says sarcastically. "Someone
should tell my calculus professor. Are you sure you haven't been abducted by
aliens and --

"Enhanced??" Lisabeth laughs. "Here? In Kansas? Of course! I'm the first one
they'd come to! Because I'm an alien myself." Amanda looks at her alertly.
"From out-of-state."

Amanda nods. "Right. My mother's from Iowa and my Dad went to Canada once.
Well, be sure to give the real aliens my address when they stop by again." She
shakes her head. "So, you have nothing to tell me? You're not going to sate my
curiosity?"

Lisabeth looks hard at her. It is tempting to have someone to tell, someone
besides the voice in her head.

[NO]

"No."

[Not tonight.]

Amanda looks back at her. She knows there is a secret but what can it be?
Someone has entered the restaurant and has captured Lisabeth's attention.
Amanda follows her gaze. "He's cute," she says mischievously.

Lisabeth's color is rising. A blush fills her angled cheeks. Her breathing
quickens slightly and a tantalizing scent wafts arond the table, first mixing
with the coffee and dessert, battling it for supremacy and then vanquishing
it, filling the air around them. Heads turn to face the two girls and linger
on one of them. "Lisabeth!" Amanda says in a voice just above a whisper. Her
friend is just barely on the aware side of a trance. She tugs at her sweater,
fixing her bra which is suddenly rubbing against her erect and highly
sensitive, aroused nipples. Her nostrils flare and she shivers. "Lisabeth!"
Amanda repeats. Her own skin is crawling too and her lips tingle. What is she
feeling? Amanda swallows, trying to keep it down, whatever it is.

"I have to talk to him. Excuse me," Lisabeth says, her voice low, dripping
with sex.

Amanda tries to say, "OK" but her throat won't let her and she nods quickly,
awkwardly. All she can do is watch helplessly as Lisabeth stands, turns and
walks away. "Why, oh why is she leaving me?" Amanda mourns silently, a small
island of reason inside her feeling more confused about her sexuality than she
has ever been while all her remaining energies focus on the receding,
swivelling bottom of the blond amazon of sex honing in on her prey. And she
watches.

He is in a corner of the room, talking to a waitress, who is slowly and
somewhat reluctantly conceding a few details about a meeting she had been to
last week.

"No. I didn't really know her. I'm not one of them, you know," she adds,
hoping that it's obvious to Clark. "But she knew her stuff and was a really
good teacher. Tough with us, but good. I'm really going to miss her classes."

"Was there anyone new that night? Anyone unusually skilled? Or unusually
strong?"

"No. Actually all of us girls were pretty bad. Some of the regulars weren't
there, probably studying for exams. Her girlfriend wasn't there either. I
heard she'd been going through a lot of changes and they'd broken up." Clark's
eyes are glazed and he is staring. "Excuse me?" She rotates her shoulders to
make her "B" cup breasts shake, trying to regain the strapping boy's interest.

"Um ... I'm sorry. I don't know what I ..."

"Hello Clark." Lisabeth says, her voice rumbling Clark's heart and male
organs. The waitress is staring at her. Lisabeth gives her a quick glance and
turns her full attention to Clark. She leans over to give him a kiss on the
cheek and her breasts briefly rest on his shoulder.

He is swimming in her tantalizing scent. Even the waitress notices it. She
wrinkles her nose to block the unwelcome intrusion and turns her head,
impatient, annoyed that she has so completely lost his interest to another
woman, one who seems slightly familiar, but ....

"Um, Lisabeth," Clark says. "Hi."

"Lisabeth!" the waitress says, snapping her fingers, suddenly very pleased.

"Jennifer's girlfirend. Ex-girlfriend, I mean." She puts her hand on Clark's
shoulder. "They're lesbians, you know. They're only into other girls."

Lisabeth looks down at her with complete disdain. "I'm sure Clark knows what
the word 'lesbian' means." She puts her hand on a particular spot on Clark's
neck and her fingers massage it ever so lightly, sending shivers of pleasure
down his spine that converge in his increasingly tumescent organ. "And I'm
even more sure that he knows exactly what we're getting into."

"L-lisabeth," Clark says with difficulty. "I don't think this is the time or
place for us ....

She tickles his neck a little longer and withdraws her fingers, but still
stands very close to him, her breasts separated from his shoulder by a mere
sliver of air. "Yes, for us. Of course not, sweetie. Sorry. I don't want to
embarrass you." He looks up at her, disoriented, lost in her gaze.

The waitress sniffs. "Hmmmph! "Well, SHE sure looks strong. If you like
lesbians with big muscles, then, well, what can I say?" She stomps off.

"Is that how you see me, Clark?" Lisabeth purrs, instinctively adopting a new
tone with him. She has positioned herself so that Clark is now in the corner.
Her large body hides him from the direct sight of anyone else in the
restaurant. "You don't really mind these lil' ol' muscles, do you? I know they
look big, but we know they're not as strong as yours are," she says softly,
gently curling her fingers around his upper arm and tracing her forefinger
around the middle of his biceps in a slow, circular motion. "We both know
that, don't we. I bet you can be sooo hard, so much harder and stronger than a
girl can be. I know I beat you before only because you were distracted. Isn't
that right?"

"Well ...." A strange conflict rises in his mind. It would be unsporting and
ungentlemanly to make an excuse for losing, but it would also be untrue -- and
in a sense unmanly -- for him not to be sure she knew that he was, in reality,
far, far stronger than she was, even with her spectacular musculature. He
couldn't let her think that, not really, not when what he really wanted was to
....

"You didn't mind, do you?"

"N-no. Of course not." All he can see now is Lisabeth. Her wide shoulders, her
spectacular breasts, her narrow waist and broad hips, which constantly shift
position to display ever-changing variations of her dramatic curves. Her
brilliantly blue eyes seem to look into his soul, reading secrets within
hidden even from himself. Her hair, bright yellow, wild, thick, flying, like
the aura of the sun. He blinks. That hair. He had found it in the student
center, when he was investigating. She knew Jennifer; she had been her
girlfriend. Her ex-girlfriend. She wasn't in the class that night. But she
must have been there. He looks more closely at her, training his eyes on that
wonderful hair more intensely.

"You like my hair," Lisabeth remarks, noticing his intense gaze.

[ENERGY SO MUCH ENERGY LIKE THE SUN.]

[I feel it too.]

"Mmmmmm. It feels so good when you look at me like that."

"You ... Lisabeth ... the night Jennifer was killed. Were you there?"

She takes two deep breaths. "I was with a friend. Studying."

[He knows. How?]

ABXAGGTACGTATTGCCTGAATCCC ....

Lisabeth sways, woozy. [What are you doing? He'll get more suspicious.]

[FINGERPRINTS SMALL CHANGES TO GENETIC IMPRINT]

[Smart.]

He looks down at her hands.

[That feeling again. His eyes.]

[HIS EYES HAVE ENERGY]

She raises her hand to his face. She won't hide. "You like my hands, Clark?
You know what my hands can do ...?"

Her fingerprints weren't there. But her hair was. How? Unless it was there
from earlier. On her clothes, her body. If she hadn't washed them. For how
long? His mind is whirling. It couldn't have been Lisabeth. It couldn't be.

Still, the spell is broken. "I ... have to go," he says.

She holds his arm to stop him, not by force but by touch. "You're trying to
find out what happened to Jennifer."

"Chloe asked me to help. Jennifer's father is important in the State. It's a
big story at the newspaper."

Lisabeth nods. "It scared a lot of people."

"What about you?"

Her heart is pounding. "I'm scared too," she says. Honesty is best, safest.
She is scared right now. How does he know? "But I'm a big girl, you know. I
can take care of myself. Most of the time."

"Well, be careful. Take care."

She knows the mood has changed. She can't fight it, not now. "You too." How
much longer can she hold him there? She has to think of a way to get him back.
"I knew her very well. If you ever want to talk about it."

She scares him. She has secrets too. How could it be her, though? He doesn't
want to know. "Yeah. I'll call you." He reaches up to kiss her on the cheek
and flees.

Lisabeth watches him. Pursuit now would only drive him away more quickly. Boys
are so simple. She returns to the table.

"He sure left quickly. What happened?"

"I think I frightened him away," Lisabeth says, her voice back to its normal
timbre.

"If you want him, I'm sure he won't be able to resist you. He'll call."

"I don't know about that. He's different."

"He's a man, isn't he? Trust me, Lisabeth. If you don't know it already -- but
you must know -- you're irresistible. Even I can't resist you." Amanda smiles.

Lisabeth puts her hand over Amanda's. "We'll see."

24

He doesn't call.

25

Mike is feeing a bit sad. It is early November already. The freshmen girls are
nearly settled into their routines. Most are no longer as lost and lonely as
they were in the first weeks. The ones who still are tend to be dull or fat or
have poor complexions. It will be several months before the transfers arrive,
and most of them will arrive with enough experience to recognize what he is
after and how little he is liable to give back. Just a few more weeks of pick
ups and then it will be another nine months before the next flock arrives.

Two pretty girls walk past, chattering happily. One sees him. Her face
stiffens. She whispers into her friend's ear, and now they both glare at him.
Girls! Always gossiping. And even if he had been with one of them, why hold a
grudge? He thinks it was the taller one he had, but he's not sure. They both
look a bit familiar.

The girls walk away. Another girl, very tall, was standing near them and is
looking at him. Who is she? She looks familiar, but he knows he has never had
any girl that tall. She's more than a head taller than the other two. She must
be taller than he is. Had she grown? Possibly, but she is so beautiful. She
doesn't exactly seem his type.

The tall girl nods at him and then walks off in a different direction. Too
bad. He shrugs and walks away. A minute later he sees the tall girl again,
looking right at him. Well!

"Hey, pretty girl! What's up today?" he ventures bravely.

She answers! "Not too much. Work, a research paper," Lisabeth replies. She
points at the other girls, now disappearing into the library. "I heard them
talking. They sure don't like you."

"Really? Well, it takes all kinds, doesn't it?" he says slightly nervously.
She IS big, and she looks athletic too. But what a rack. "What kind are you?
Are you like everyone else or are you special, your own person?"

Lisabeth laughs awkwardly. "I feel sometimes like I have a little bit of many
different people in me, but I think I can be my own person. Sometimes at
least."

"So, you don't just do what others tell you?"

"I have a little voice inside that kind of tells me what to do, but I think
mostly I should just do what I want. I tell myself I'm big enough to do that,
don't you think?" He nods vigorously. "Well, then ..."

"Mike," he adds helpfully.

"Mike," she repeats. "And you can call me Beth.

"Beth," he repeats thoughtfully. "You seem familiar, but you must be new here.
I'm sure I would have noticed a girl like you if I'd seen you before."
Lisabeth shrugs. "Well, I'm a junior, but," she tugs at her coat with her
gloved hand to even out the creases where the shape of her bust stretches it,
but only succeeds in pulling it more tightly over her curves, "you might not
have noticed me before. I've matured only recently."

He nods sagely, trying to keep his tongue in his mouth. "I bet that takes some
getting used to." He indicates a direction with his eyes and she nods and they
head toward the edge of campus, where his apartment is.

"Yes," she says vaguely. "So many changes. Everyone looks at me so
differently. It's hard to know just who I am anymore."

"Well, I'm sure you're still the same person inside that you always were."

"Do you think so?" she says, sounding both a bit anxious and also relieved. "I
really hope so, but I don't really know!" She bats her eyes at him and steps
closer. "You seem different from most guys, like you really are listening to
me, and maybe like you really understand me."

"Well, perhaps I do, maybe better than you understand yourself. I'm a couple
of years older than you are. I've seen a lot of things, known a lot of
people."

"You seem really experienced. Oh! Where are we?"

"Just a couple of blocks from my place. The way you were walking -- I thought
this was where you were headed too."

"Oh, silly me. I was just following you, I guess. I can see it's very easy to
just let you take the lead." She looks down, embarrassed. "You must think I'm
a real idiot. A total nothing."

"Not at all. You're very pretty, you know, and I'm sure you're very
intelligent. But perhaps you're a bit unsure of yourself, especially around
new people."

"I am! But it's so easy to talk to you. I bet -- but, oh, you probably have a
girlfriend don't you. The nice ones always do."

He shakes his head. "It's ... a long story, but ... no. Not now." He looks
away, suddenly very sad.

"Oh, I'm SO SORRY! There I go again, saying the wrong thing! The stupid
thing!!" She starts slapping her leg repeatedly, hard. He grabs her hand and
holds it still. "Stop that!" She looks at him. "Don't hurt yourself, please,
not for my sake!"

She nods, bites her lip and keeps her arm tight, rigid, letting him keep her
from hitting herself any more.

"Do you want some coffee? I have some good java at my place. And it's a bit
chilly out here. We can talk more inside." She doesn't answer. "Come on. I'm
worried about you. Hurting yourself like that. Do you do that often?"

"Well I ..." She looks down at the place on her leg where she struck herself
and touches it as though it was tender from other similar episodes in the
past. "Maybe I should go back. You must think I'm sick. Sick! Or crazy!"

He pats her arm. "Don't go. Please! We can talk. That would be better than
being alone, wouldn't it? Especially when you're feeling this way about
yourself."

She looks at him suspiciously. "Why are you being so nice to me? I don't
deserve it. I'm stupid. Ugly. Weak. Everything I touch turns bad. You'll see.
I'll end up messing up your life too."

"Beth, really ... I don't see how that could happen. I'm a strong person. I
can take care of myself." He looks at her. "It sounds like you've been going
through a lot of changes lately. I think you need a bit of guidance. You need
to have people around who care about you."

"You mean you ... I mean, you think you'd ...." she begins tentatively and
then stops and looks embarrassed. She mutters to herself as though he wasn't
there. "He must think you're a total idiot. Come on, Beth. Be social. Be nice!
Don't be so self-obsessed all the time." She smiles brightly. "Sure! Coffee!!
Great idea! Where?" She holds out her arm.

Mike pretends he hasn't heard her talking to herself. He takes her arm and
leads her to his apartment.

She walks in and he locks the door behind them. "Not a great neighborhood," he
explains.

She looks around at the bare, dismal room. "You don't have much furniture."

"Not anymore. She took just about all of it."

Her brow furrows in sympathy. "Oh! That sounds really mean. Sooo, you just use
the bed?"

"Pretty much."

Lisabeth nods. "Ooookaaaay." They stand in the apartment for a moment, looking
at each other. It's not the same blanket, but the same style and cheap color.
He looks so different to her, two years later, now at least five inches
shorter than she is. Seen from above, his hair is already thinning. "So, you
said something about some, uh, 'java'?"

"Right!" He opens a bare cupboard. "Whoops! I guess I'm all out. Sorry." He
checks the refrigerator. "How about a Bud?" Not waiting for an answer, he
takes two cans out.

"But you said ..." she begins and then looks guiltily from side to side.
"Well, I don't know. I don't usually, but I think I can. I mean, I know I'm
not strictly legal, but I AM a big girl." She laughs awkwardly again at her
joke.

"Sure you are. Hey, you can relax. I won't bite. It's not that cold in here.
Take your coat and stuff off."

She removes it cautiously, revealing a tight pink sweater, and holds out her
hand. She is still wearing her leather gloves. "My hands are cold," she says
apologetically. "I'll warm up later."

"Sure, sure," he says, paying attention only to the shelf of breasts she has
revealed. He opens the beers and hands her one. She drinks several large gulps
and burps.

"Ooop! I am SO sorry! It's SO bubbly."

He laughs. "That's beer for you." He takes a few sips too and watches her
steadily drink down the rest of the can.

"Wow! That's really good. I was SO thirsty, I guess." She moves her head a
little unsteadily and undulates her torso showing how it's affecting her. "I
think it's making me a little tipsy," she giggles.

"Oh, that's ok," he says reassuringly and puts his beer down. "You know, I
find you very attractive."

"You DO?" she says, a bit loudly and laughs awkwardly. "I mean, thank you."
She looks down at her chest and smoothes her sweater over her bust to get rid
of the creases. New stretch marks appear. "I'm kind of big there now," she
says, embarrassed, apologizing. "It happened all of a sudden. I had to get new
clothes and everything and now even they're tight." She holds her breasts with
her hands. "They makes me feel really clumsy. But boys like them, right?. Men
I mean. They're always looking at them. I don't know why." She shakes them and
giggles. "Funny, aren't they? They move around so much."

Mike nods. "Uh, yes, they sure do." Something about her simple naivete seems
familiar, although most of the girls he picks up are like this. He puts the
thought out of his head.

"I know! And I'm even wearing a bra, one of those really strong, heavy ones
that, ha ha, probably attract lightning bolts. You'd think it'd hold them in
place but no, it sure doesn't! Hey, can I have another one?" Mike quickly
opens another beer and she drinks nearly all of it down, even more quickly
than the first.

[WHAT VALUE HERE? HE SEEMS INFERIOR]

[Shut up. He's a manipulative little piece of shit.]

[DECEPTIVENESS CAN BE USEFUL INTOXICANT AFFECTING LISABETH'S THOUGHT CLARITY
EMOTION CO-ORDINATION COMPENSATING]

[You go right ahead.]

She laughs and puts her hands over her breasts, tugging at the bra. "And
sometimes it feels so tight. You are so lucky, not having to wear one! You
have no idea."

"Um, if it's making you uncomfortable, you could, uh, take it off."

"Ha ha. You would like that, wouldn't you? Then they'd really bounce around
like crazy. Then you could see them. Wouldn't THAT make you happy! Really
happy? Gee I'm talking a lot. I don't usually talk a lot. Is this the beer, or
is it you?"

"The beer doesn't make you do anything you don't really want to do, you know.
Maybe it's telling you it's good for you to let go, relax a little."

"You THINK so? Ha ha! You would! But maybe you're right! You could be, you
know. I'm always so much in control. Listening to the little voice that tells
me what to do. I don't have to listen, do I?"

Mike smiles. "You're an adult, not a child. You can do whatever you want to
do."

"You think?" She finishes the beer in one gulp. "Who the hell cares what you
think!" She laughs and he laughs too, a bit uneasily. She shakes her chest
side to side and her breasts bounce widely. "Yeah! Just look what these babies
here do! Ha ha. And just look at those eyes of yours watching them." She does
it again. "I bet I'm giving you one of those 'hard-ins'."

"Hard ons. Uh, yeah" he says, adjusting himself.

"It's a hard on because you're turned on, and it's a hard-in because it's
INside," she laughs. She reaches out and grabs the waist of his pants and
pulls him hard so that he is thrown against her, his chin just above her
breasts. She hardly moves and he bounces away slightly. "Whew! And if you had
your pants off it would be a hard out, right?"

"Uh yeah, sure!"

"Like this!" She shakes her chest. "Breasts in." She pulls off her sweater and
stretches, two of the buttons in the middle of her blouse pop open. "Breasts
out!"

Mike is watching in shock at the mass of flesh suddenly emerges. His heartbeat
doubles.

[YOU ARE SEDUCING HIM DON'T UNDERSTAND HE IS OF LITTLE VALUE.]

[How right you are.]

"Oh! Still just bra-out." She reaches behind and her chest thrusts forward at
him. She unhooks herself and lets her breasts push the cups forward and then
eases the straps off her shoulders, letting the bra fall to the floor.
"Breasts out now!"

"Oh ... g-g-god!" Mike says, his jaw open, his eyes goggling at the size of
the massive, firm, pink globes bobbing in front of his eyes.

"You DO like them," she said gaily, triumphantly. "You look like you've never
seen breasts up close. You HAVE seen breasts before, haven't you?" she asks,
sounding a little disappointed. "I mean, you ARE experienced, right?"

"Oh, you can be sure, Beth. VERY experienced. But I have to tell you ....
Yours are so big, so round, so beautiful. I've never ... seen any like them
before."

"Not even a little bit like them?" she asks, playfully swinging them so that
they hit Mike's face. "Ha ha! I HIT you!" She swings them again. "Got you
again!"

"Hey, c'mon," he says. He takes her shoulders to keep her from swinging, but
she easily twists away and hits his arm with her breasts again.

"Can't stop me!" she teases.

"Hey, Beth, really!" he says, disconcerted that he can't make her stop. "We,
uh, could be doing better things.""

She hits him twice more and then stops. She stands still. Her face is red from
the exertion, her eyes are bright. "Better? Like what?" Her breathing is
slightly elevated, and in the sudden stillness the only things moving are her
chest, rising and falling with each breath and the slight bobbing of her
incredible breasts. "I want to kiss you," she says suddenly. She bends
slightly, wraps her arms around his back, pulls him closer and joins her lips
to his.

[FILTERING FILTERING BRAIN INFERIOR PERCEPTUAL ABILITIES INFERIOR PHYSICAL
NATURE HIGHLY INFERIOR DISSUMULATIVE ABILITIES HIGH.]

AGACCTAGCTCGABXATCCGATGCAATGA....

She stares blankly for a few moments and then comes to. A sly, knowing smile
crosses her face and just as quickly disappears. "You know, Mike, you're
wearing a lot more than I am. Why's that?"

[TIME TO LEAVE.]

[Sorry. I'm the one driving. You'll just have to wait.]

"I ... I, well, you uh just got ahead of me. That's all." He unbuttons his
shirt and strips it off quickly. "There! I'm even with you now."

"You are. Sort of." She sashays around the room with a sexy walk and peels off
her gloves, tossing them on her coat. She inspects his body carefully, slowly,
making him self-conscious. It's not a bad body, much better than Jake's,
although far short of Jock's. Average, or maybe slightly better than average,
she decides. "We're soooo different," she comments finally, sliding into her
new, sexy voice.

Mike laughs uneasily. "Well, of course. You're a woman; I'm a man."

"Yes, but I wasn't talking about my breasts," she says slowly, with emphasis.
"I mean, I'm so much bigger than you are. Doesn't that seem funny to you?"

"No. It may bother some guys, but it doesn't bother me."

"It doesn't bother me," she quickly replies, parroting him. "But you're the
man. Doesn't it bother you for me to look down at you? For you to be smaller?"
She puts her hand on top of his head and pushes him down a little.

"Now you're even littler!

"Hey, stop. No. Not at all."

She stops and pets his face and then puts her hand back on top of his head,
not pushing now. "Oh, sorry. That was mean. But I wanna know. Have you ever
been with a woman taller than you?"

"I don't know. Maybe." He hadn't actually; he likes to be in control, and
smaller women are easier to control. Right now she is controlling things and
it is making him uneasy. And something about her hand on his head is making
him feel small. Very small. He reaches up to take her hand and guide it down,
but instead she holds it up there.

"What are you doing? I like touching your head," she says, simply, resisting
his efforts to move their hands. Her hand closes around his. "Little Mike's
little hand," she says, laughing and starts patting his head using both their
hands. "Little Mike's little hand. Little Mike's little hand," she repeats as
if making a child's rhyming game.

"I'm not little," he says. "Stop it."

She continues patting his head. "Little Mike's little hand. Little Mike's
little hand," she sings, swinging her breasts into Mike's face to the beat of
her little ditty. She then tightens her grip. "Can't get away from me. You
can't get away from me!"

"This is stupid. Cut it out." Mike can't free his hand and short of punching
her with the other one he doesn't know how to extricate himself.

"Can't make me. Can't make me. 'Cause I'm too strong for you. Too big and
strong for you." She pulls his hand up and yanks him into her while
body-slamming him with her stomach and letting go suddenly. Mike flies across
the room into the wall. "Ha ha. Look at you!"

[WHAT IS THIS? MALADAPTIVE CAN BRING TROUBLE GO]

[No]

Mike cannot believe the strange turn this pick-up has taken. "W-hat's gotten
into you?"

Lisabeth strolls across the room undulating with each slow step. "Beer, for
one thing," she laughs. "Lots of things."

"I think you should go."

She makes a face and then extends her body backwards, a dancer's pose, her
bare breasts pointing at the ceiling as she theatrically raises her hand high,
waving it around. "Why? Don't you like a little foreplay?"

"Not this kind," he says, unable to stop staring at her.

"Funny. That's also what the little voice in me tells me." She bends low
towards him. Her large breasts hang between them. "But I'm not listening. I
don't have to listen. Like you said, I'm all grown up. I can do what I want."
She steps nearer. He holds out his hands, unsure whether to touch her or stop
her. She stands just out of reach and slithers and dances in place, rotating
her hips in a slow circle, snapping them hard, back and forth after several
rotations and then circling again. "You like this Mike," she says, her voice
low, hot. "You like how my body looks, what my body can do." He nods. "Yes,
you're thinking, 'This is more like it. This is what I wanted. What I've
dreamed of.' Is it? Am I right? Or not?" She is right next to him now, her
body grazing his as she moves, undulating, closer and closer. She keeps
moving, bumping him with her breasts, her stomach, her hips and her thighs. He
tries to stay closer, but each contact pushes him back until he is against the
wall. Now she is bumping him with her stomach and hips more frequently,
bouncing him every couple of seconds, back and forth between the wall and her
body.

"Hey, stop that." He grabs her arm. "You're hurting me."

"I'm just playing around, Mike," she says, amused, but she stops and looks
down at his hand on her arm. "Did I hurt you badly? You worried I might hit
you?"

"No."

"I could if I wanted to. I'm very strong, you know."

"I don't know what's gotten into you. No one's hitting anyone."

"But I could, you know. You couldn't stop me. Not in a million years."

"Hey, uh, let's not get carried away. Sure you're big, but I was just being
careful. You're a girl, a woman, I mean. I wouldn't want you to get hurt when
we're fooling around."

Lisabeth stares down at him, not saying anything. "Yeah. Sure." His hand is
still on her arm exerting a slight pressure to hold it in place. Her breast,
so round and firm, bobs a fraction of an inch away from his fingers but he
doesn't lift his hand to touch it. "You are afraid of me," she grins. "If you
weren't you'd be touching my big, beautiful breast." She shakes her body so
that it bounces against his hand. See, it's right here," she says in a teasing
sing-song voice.

"Don't be ridiculous," he says, his hand now carressing her bobbing breast

"Well then you should be. You don't know what I'll do next. I'm big. I'm
strong. I'm drunk. Anything could happen."

"I can handle myself. And you. But why should I be afraid of you?"

She smiles, raises her arm and begins to flex her biceps, fed by days and days
of more sun-rich energy, bathed in ever more potent ABX-devised hormones,
honed by hours of harsh, uninterrupted training, now endowed too with the
suppleness and fluidity of a dancer. They rise with the majesty of the
summer's cumulo-nimbus thunderclouds that bring the threat of deadly
lightning, pummeling hail and drenching rain to the blissful warm summer day.
Not cloud soft, but anvil-hard.

"Because of these, Mike. What do you think, Mike? My muscles have muscles
bigger than yours. And that's my weak arm," she says casually.

"Um, er, very impressive," he stammers.

"Awww, that's so SWEET of you to say so!" She wraps her arms around him and
hugs him, letting him feel her erect nipples rub against his hairy chest. She
is aroused now, excited about where this is going, and her scent makes him
gasp with desire. His legs not long enough for his erection to reach her sex,
it instead pushes between her legs.

"I can FEEL that. How cute!" She holds him closer and closer, her arms
squeezing his back, crushing him into her chest. "I love the closeness, don't
you? Your warm body pressing against my sensitive, ooooooh VERY sensitive
breasts." She squeezes more tightly. "I could just squeeze you to bits!"

"Aaaaaagh! AAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Her fingers press into his back, finding the pressure points and playing them
like notes on a piano. He squirms desperately but can't move.

"Mmmmmmmm, MMMMMMM" she moans. "Yes. YES! touch me JUST like that! Oh MIKE,
you REALLY know how to please me!"

Out of breath, his back twisted in pain, he starts beating his fists against
the sides of her back, just below her wide, muscular shoulders, the only part
of her he can reach. Immediately she pushes him away. He slams into the wall.
"What was THAT?! What the FUCK was that!!" he says angrily.

He gasps, coughs, tries to breath, coughs, sputters, wheezes, coughs again,
groans and then breathes deeply several times. "Damn it! DAMN IT! What do you
think you're DOING!" He is still breathing hard.

She looks at him impassively. "Why, hugging you, Mike. Touching you. Did I do
it wrong? Was I too passionate?"

[WE DO NOT NEED TO DO THIS IT IS OF NO ADVANTAGE.]

[This is obviously something you don't understand.]

"You nearly KILLED me!"

"Awww! Really?" She steps closer. He shrinks back. "Are you scared of me now?"
She takes his hand gently and softly carresses it and then runs her hand up
his arm. "Is this nicer? My pretty hand all soft and nice on Mike's arm." She
touches his forearm and then his biceps. "There, there. Nice Mike. All better?
He nods. "Good."

She caresses it still more lightly. He relaxes and even starts to become
aroused again. His breathing quickens and he inclines his head toward her
body, kissing her shoulder and starting to work down to her breasts. The taste
of her skin is dizzying. He must have more. She laughs a little cry of
pleasure. "Ooooh, that's nice Mike. Uh huh. Yeah, you know, it's hard to
believe my arm used to be smaller than yours. Yeah, really. Oh, don't stop.
Small and soft, you know. I studied karate, with my women's group, yes, keep
going, but I was still so much weaker than a man I was still so scared of
them. Yes, a little lower. And now it's hard to imagine being so soft and weak
as I was before. Or even as you are." She takes his arm and twists it. Once
again he gasps in pain as she forces him to turn around. She forces it higher.

"No! Stop! Owww!"

"It's so easy to do it.. I'm so much stronger than you now." She makes him
bend down.

[THIS IS DANGEROUS IF WE ARE CAUGHT WE WILL LOSE FREEDOM]

[We -- I -- won't be caught.]

[THAT STRONG ONE ALREADY SUSPECTS US]

[I know that.]

[HE'LL COME AFTER YOU HE'LL ........ OH! OH!]

[Uh huh.]

[It's getting to be time.]

"What are you doing to me!? You'll break it. Beth! BETH!!"

She lowers his arm slightly. "What did you just call me?"

"Beth. Beth! You said your name is Beth."

"Did I? Most people call me Lisabeth." She spins him around to face her and
holds his shoulders tightly. "Lisabeth," she says more firmly, in a loud,
clear voice. "Lisabeth."

Forcibly turned to look at her as she says the name for the first time, his
face snaps to hers and he stares at it, looking for something that he
recognizes, and then he sees it, the features of Lisabeth's soft blonde
prettiness at the base of the powerful, devastatingly beautiful woman she has
become. At the first repetition of her name, a wave of fear passes through
him, leaving him queasy and weak. The second hits him like a bolt of lightning
and he shudders, barely able to stand.

"Lisabeth?" he asks.

"So you do remember me? From my freshman year? The 'sad pretty girl' you were
going to help, to teach how to get on at this strange place? What you did to
me ...." He looks up at her and then slowly down her powerful body.

"I ... I ... I didn't force you to ... I'm not --"

"Even after your sickening come on, using your so-called experience and
knowledge to manipulate me, make me feel so small and dependent, so STUPID if
I didn't gratify you in the most pathetic, degrading way, and then, to ignore
me, abandon me, when I STILL came to you for help and advice...." She shook
him like he was a doll.

"Do you have ANYTHING to say for yourself?"

"I think ... you really ... shouldn't ... I mean ... can't we settle ... like
grown --"

"Like mature human beings. Well! I've grown, Mike. Don't you think?"

She bears down on his shoulders, twisting his body, and he screams in pain.
"Quiet!" She glares at him and puts her hand on his throat. "I've heard enough
of your voice to last me a lifetime, and I plan to live a very long time." She
squeezes his throat, first on his Adam's Apple. His knees buckle in pain, but
she holds him up by the throat, and she squeezes harder, but not to choke him.
Her fingers search for and expertly find the muscles at the back of his
larynx, pulling and weakening them, crushing the cartilage, damaging and
deadening the nerve endings. She lets go and he slumps the floor, struggling
to breathe.

"Wh-what ... have you --" he says, his voice low and horribly garbled.

"What does it sound like I've done, darling?" she says clearly, her voice
honey-sweet.

"My ... my voice. I ..." he croaks and grips his throat in evident pain.

"I've ruined it, darling. Permanently. In fact it will just get worse and
worse as the nerves die and the muscles atrophy and wither away. Now, I'm just
wondering what ELSE can we do together!"

[AND NOW YOU MUST KILL HIM]

[Well, duh. But not yet.]

Lisabeth is between Mike and the door. There is no way to get away except
through her.

"You look so distressed! How very SAD! Is something wrong? Are you trying to
talk to me? I can't HEAR you! And no one else can either. Oh, just look at
your face now! This must be your angry, determined look." He runs at her,
fists ready. "Wheee! Here we go!" She blocks his blow easily and hits a quick
jab at his chin, spinning his head around. "Feel that? Here's another." She
hits him again on the opposite side. "I've been at the gym the last two weeks
taking boxing lessons. If I don't wear a bra they give me the lessons free.
Six hours a night -- I don't need much sleep, you see. And I'm a very quick
learner. Pop! Pop! You're staggering already. Pop! Ha ha. And these are just
my little bitty jabs. I've knocked out two sparring partners already with my
real punches, with my muscles really behind them. But then, I'm not being fair
with you. I had boxing gloves on then, and they're much softer than my fists.
Still, the guys I floored won't fight with me anymore. And they don't have to.
But you don't have a choice, do you?"

Mike is swinging wildly now. Lisabeth dodges him, ducks a punch and hits him
with another jab. He staggers again, breathing hard. "You sound terrible. Is
your crushed larynx affecting your breathing? Why, of COURSE it is, darling!
You're not getting getting enough air and it's tiring you very quickly. Now
you can hardly move your arms." He swings again and she makes no move to block
him, but he is so tired he can't raise his arm enough to reach her head, and
his punch lands below the neck. "You HIT me! Good for you! Try again!" He aims
higher and she jumps out of the way. "Ha ha! Again!" He swings and connects
with her stomach. "Oooh, solid hit ... but no damage done. Getting pretty weak
now, Mike. Or are my abs just too strong? Or maybe it's both."

He mouthes a 'please'.

"What's that? Please show you how strong 'I' am? I'd be delighted to! I KNOW
you'll be proud of how I've 'grown up' and matured so well. Just like you said
I should. Oh, what ARE you doing, trying to protect yourself, wrapping your
arms around your head? I don't think that little baby trick will work. Well,
we'll just have to see how well you do!" She pulls back, sets herself firmly
and smashes her fist into his shoulder. He rasps a groan and his arm hangs
down limply. "Oh, that didn't sound good. Something's broken there. How about
another?" She sets herself hits him again, even harder, three inches lower on
the same side. He tumbles backward, rasping more loudly, bent over and she
follows him. "I think something else is broken now, Mike, probably a rib or
four. Just two punches. Bang. Bang. Aren't you impressed with my strength? Or
are you still not convinced I'm all grown up now?"

She sighs and runs her long fingers down his throat. "There is just so much
I'd like to do with you, Mike. And so little time." She takes his other arm
and holds his hand, lacing her fingers through his as he tries to pull away.
"You have small hands, you know, compared with mine. My bones are really
strong, like iron. Thick, hard, nearly unbreakable I think." She squeezes and
the bones in his hand crackle and then break. He makes a pathetic rasping
sound. "Well, yours certainly aren't. You're breaking all over."

He is whimpering, crying.. His face is puffy, bruises are starting to appear.
His arms hang useless, his posture bent like an old man. He shuffles
painfully, trying to move away from Lisabeth but she follows him around the
apartment.

"You don't look so good now. Not nearly as good as the day we first met, you
know. You were cute then. You had me thinking then you were different, really
nice. But you weren't and you aren't. And now you're about to die. Are you
ready, Mike? Ready?"

He is shaking, frightened and in deep pain.

"Ready Mike? Ready?" Lisabeth repeats, not interested in any response. She
stands over him, waiting until she feels it is time and then she reaches high
and slams her fist down the middle of his back using all her weight and her
considerable strength. There is a loud groan and a raspy rattle. He falls, his
arms and legs splayed out awkwardly. She kneels down next to him and listens.
"You're still breathing, but with your vertebrae broken in two and judging
from your posture, I'll guess you're fully paralyzed now." She feels his back
and probes a few pressure points. "Yes, you would be twisting away screaming
if you had any feeling left." She tries a few on his neck and then comes down
hard on his "good" arm, breaking it above the wrist. "No feeling there either.
Looks like I'm done. I'll hazard a guess you're not expecting any visitors
tonight. It should be a few days after the weekend before they start looking
for you. It'll probably be the smell that draws them."

She stands up and walks around the apartment, putting her bra, blouse and
gloves back on, collecting her coat, tidying up the beer cans and tossing them
into the overflowing garbage bag. "No fingerprints or lipstick on the beer.
Plenty of hair around from other girls as well as mine. When DID you last
change the sheets? OK. Good to go. I won't call you this time, Mike. I
promise. No, the next move is completely up to you." She leaves and the door
locks behind her.

[HE'LL COME FOR YOU NOW]

[Yes. He'll have no choice.]