Brandi 4   Brandi the Goddess  or "Bye, Bye Brandi" 
by Marknew 
Mark has a new scheme to gain power and defeat Brandi


We are in a poorly lit laboratory, deep underground. Rows of tables contain
racks of test tubes, electronic equipment, computers, lasers, microscopes and
a bulletin board. The latter is bare except for the yellowed front page of a
newspaper, most of which is consumed by a picture of a woman, fabulously
muscular, radiant with happiness, confidence and power. Beneath the picture is
a caption "Our Owner, Your Owner". The newspaper is the Brandi World, the only
newspaper left in the world, translated into 200 languages. Its caption "ALL
THAT I DEEM YOU NEED TO KNOW" blares from a box at the right of the masthead.
Below the picture are the two main stories, "Goddess Brandi Adored by UK
Subjects" and "Her Power: Even Greater than you can Imagine," each in small
print and continued inside the newspaper. Mark rubs his eyes, exhausted, but
then he catches sight of the picture and rouses himself to return to work.

"A Goddess! Hah!" he mutters. "Then what am I? I MADE her a goddess. What does
that make ME?" He tests one of the liquids bubbling in a test tube. "An idiot!
A total moron. Obviously." He lifts it from the rack, shuffles painfully to
another row of tubes and pours 5 ml of a green liquid into the bubbling one,
which immediately turns black and then shrinks into a tiny pellet at the
bottom of the tube. Mark grunts and carries it carefully, limping all the way,
to his mass spectrometer and begins the analysis. "I, who could have, SHOULD
have been all-powerful, am reduced to THIS! Thanks to that scheming bimbo. Not
to mention those hideous harridans, Mandi and Randi." (Author's note: See
Brandi 3 for the history of Mandi and Randi at
http://www.thevalkyrie.com/stories/marknew/b3a.txt) It checks out, another
dose ready of the substance that he, in a fit of self-hatred, called
"More-on," or, as he has been abbreviating it, "Moron." He checks his watch
and his shoulders slump. "Already?!"

A flat screen against the wall has come to life. An image of Brandi, glowing,
illuminates the room. "Acolytes, worshippers, subjects and slaves. I await
your prayers. Give full voice to your praise." She smiles, waiting, then
frowns slightly. "ALL of you!"

Mark doesn't know if she really listened to everyone in the world as she said
she did. She probably could, if she wanted to. But why would she want to?
Nevertheless, he doesn't want to take the chance of calling attention to
himself. So he calls out as loudly as he can. "Oh Brandi. No other is so
praiseworthy. I am less than nothing and you are more than all. Your being
overfills the universe. Suffer my existence for one day more, so that I can
live to praise you again tomorrow." It was her standard Tuesday prayer. He
hopes he has the day right. Just then she smiles. Was it for him or what it
just chance? Or was it a mechanism of the TV screen? He longs to see how it
works, but it's forbidden to touch her screen and he doesn't dare disobey. He
is not sure whether his shielding affects the TV screen, and stories of her
punishments, swift and brutal, appear every day in Brandi World. If even a
tenth of it is true ....

"That is nice. Very nice." Her face fills the screen. He searches it to find a
hint of weakness, an imperfection. There is none. Strength, confidence, utter
fearlessness. She is beautiful, perfectly so, but also perfectly frightening.
Her eyes seem to see everything even into the hidden corners of his soul. If
so, he is doomed. But then, he IS doomed. They all are. All will die someday,
whether by her anger or naturally. All but her.

Unless he can help it.

"My thought for the day." She laughs. "A funny idea, isn't it. I have many
thoughts. But you may have just one. The thought I give you. And that is this.
You grovelling bugs! I was once like you. Imagine! We were all human, you and
I. But now I am all powerful and I have made you my acolytes, my worshippers,
my subjects and my slaves. You are less than you were. And I am more. So much
more. Do you envy me? Do you curse your fate? Do you wish you were me?" She
grins, her eyes alight in pleasure. "You must. How could you not? And if you
do not, then I COMMAND you to do so. Meditate on my power, my significance and
your ridiculous insignificance. I can do anything. Everything. And you can do
nothing. Wouldn't you just LOVE to be me?" She batted her eyelashes. "Oh just
WOULDN'T you!" She smiles once more. "Think about it. Think ALL about it. Let
me feel your envy. Let me hear you curse your fate as I bask in mine." She
closed her eyes joyfully. "And while you do, praise me again. Give me your
'Only' prayer."

"Oh Brandi. Only by praising you do I become myself. Only your magnificence
gives meaning to my wretchedness. My Only joy is to serve you and hear your
next command. Let your lustrous image be my Only memory, my Only thought, and
let me live Only to feel your power overcome me."

There are three hundred prayers that everyone on Earth older than the age of
six had to commit to memory, to recite at a moment's bidding, while he or she
gazed at Brandi's TV image. Learning these prayers and how to recite them with
feeling occupied the first three years of schooling, and, when she first
declared herself Goddess, half of each workday for a year. Hundreds of
millions died for their failure to learn during that time. Old. young, male,
female, defiant or begging for mercy. Hundreds of millions died, while
billions watched. Now community groups practice recitals. Scholarly tomes are
written to analyze them. Competitions are held to write new prayers, which
someday would be added to the canon, to be learned by rote on pain of death.

During the prayers her cheeks flush, her eyes dilate, her lips redden, as if
the world's subjection arouses her. And her arousal in turn makes him hard. If
Brandi World were believed, much of the population experiences spontaneous
orgasm during her closing prayer. Certainly it had happened to Mark at least
once a week. Was there any greater evidence of the link between the "goddess"
and her subjects?

The screen goes dark. Mark shudders. Despite himself, despite his hatred, he
always feels a loss at that time. Does he now need her? What greater source of
self-disgust is there? And what greater victory for her. It is best to sleep
it off. He would resume work later.

He has almost two hours before the next scheduled prayer, assuming she does
not call for a spontaneous devotion or waste his time with another petty
display of power. Then he should have enough time for perhaps two more
experiments today. He pins the arms of a tiny mouse to a pole and then adds a
second mouse, a male, to the cage. Did they worship Brandi too? Or did her
reach not extend to the animal kingdom? Was their consciousness too limited
for her? He wonders. Once when she had called for spontaneous devotion in the
middle of an experiment, his animal subject had turned rigidly, fearfully at
the screen, its whiskers twitching at the sound of her voice. What did it
perceive? Bright lights and noise? A human face? A super-mouse or a super-cat?
Did he spy it bowing its head? Or was that an illusion, an anthropomorphism,
imputing his own shame and subservience to a dumb animal? Or, was he any more
than a dumb animal? Compared to her?

YES! Yes he IS!

And he would prove it. The experiments are dangerous, risky. But it is the
only way.

The male mouse is sniffing the female, who is struggling to get away. Even
without her arms tethered she would have had a hard time keeping him off her,
but now she is completely helpless as he positions himself on her. The time is
right. Mark checks the locks on the cage and shoots one of his tiny black
pellets of Moron into the mouth of the female then steps back to observe the
little drama he has concocted for himself. He activates the timer, the scales,
the timed x-rays and the video camera. The female mouse blinks rapidly,
distracted for the moment from the male's probing thrusts. Her eyes widen and
then, amazingly, she starts to grow, her little arms quickly increasing by
almost 25% in length, but more than doubling in thickness, with her shoulders
chest and legs also showing an increase, though proportionately smaller. She
quickly snaps the restraints and throws the male off her, his body slamming
against the cage wall with a bang, bending the bars slightly. Her tail begins
twitching, faster and faster, the sound of its tip whistling through the air
like a whip. Perhaps Mark is imagining it, but it seems she had an almost
gleeful look as she looks around, even locking eyes with Mark for a moment.
Then she snaps her tail a couple of times toward the male mouse, flicking it
against the side of his body. His little eyes open and he looks around him,
trying to identify the source of the stinging slaps and then sees her. Seeing
him awake, she relaxes her tail and stands still, perfectly still. He rises to
his feet slowly, sniffing in her direction, and advances slowly, sensing
something is different, and wrong -- very wrong. When he covers roughly
one-third of the distance he stops cold. At that point she opens her mouth,
perhaps in a yawn, perhaps in another, more predatory type of gesture, and
leans backwards, lifting her arms and puffing out her chest, making her seem
even larger and certainly even more powerful. That may or may not be her
intention, but there is no mistaking his reaction. At first he stretches too,
trying to match her, as any animal would try to increase his apparent size to
ward off aggression, but he quickly reversed course and darts to the corner of
the cage where he curls into a small ball. She crosses her arms around her
muscular torso and looks at him, her tail snapping again, and then turns to
look at Mark, who feels an odd sensation, a slight inexplicable headache that
always seems to appear at some point in each experiment -- at between eighty
and ninety seconds for experiments with mice, a longer period with larger
subjects. He notes it as she turns back to the other mouse and leaps at him.
He tries to jump out of her way, but she anticipates his maneuver and they
collide in the air, her powerful body again driving his into the cage wall,
which this time reverberates loudly at the impact, shaking the whole cage. Now
she wraps her legs around him, not at the crotch, but around his chest, and
began rubbing against him furiously, seeming to take pleasure both in the
sexual contact and in her absolute domination of her victim. It is nearly two
minutes now.

Mark wants to keep watching, keep observing, but he doesn't dare take the
chance of letting it go too long. He takes a deep breath and lowers the delta
ray projector into place. The female mouse whirls around and Mark feels a
sharp pain stab him in the forehead while he fires delta G rays at the
unsuspecting mice. Immediately his own mysterious pain stops, and with the two
mice bathed in the ray's soft, green glow the female mouse quivers for a
couple of seconds then, as the Moron interacts with the Delta ray to transmit
to the projector her strength, her vitality, even her very life force, she
shrinks back to her original size and collapses limply, utterly without
strength. The male watches with rapt attention and relief. Mark turns the
projector off. Now the male looks at her, probing her tentatively with his paw
as she lies on the floor, barely breathing, too weak even to flick her tail.
Good, good. Just what should happen. He adjusts a few settings and switches on
the projector again, now producing a sharp orange flash for only a
microsecond. The male mouse straightens up. Now he grows, but only slightly.
If previous readings were correct, his weight would have increased by two or
three tenths of a percent, but he would feel the difference. The vitality of
his male subjects after exposure to the delta O ray was remarkable. Already he
is thrusting into her. He would do that all night if he wants, and if she
lives that long. It is Mark's reward to him for the terror he'd no doubt felt
from the horror of the reversal of roles, for being at the mercy of a
rapacious, empowered female. But now his little test subject, like the others,
will have the power to do as he'd been done to ... at least until Mark had to
kill him. It is necessary of course. His slow development would continue
indefinitely otherwise just as hers would have, and Mark could not allow that.
But for a test subject mouse, his night of power will have been worth it. Mark
can well imagine the satisfaction that would bring, a satisfaction that Mark
had yearned for so long, that now was all that sustains him through his daily
humiliations. And, since most of the delta O energy generated by the
experiment is still stored in the batteries of the projector, it will be
available for other, more important uses. That is, for Mark.

But it isn't enough, not nearly enough.

What a shame that the Moron pills don't work on him directly. No matter what
species of mammal, Moron is effective only on females. Once ingested it causes
them to gain size, strength and muscle and improves other abilities too --
intelligence, visual acuity, hearing, reflexes, resistance to injury and
disease, apparently -- though they are more difficult to measure, especially
because he has to cut off the tests before his subjects grew more powerful
than he is. In the brief time before he does so, he detects significant
improvement in all these areas and there may be others that he has been unable
to measure.

It is hard going. Once he'd determined that Moron would not empower him
directly, he had dared begin his experiments on animals only when he had
perfected the delta G ray to take away their new powers and virtually all of
their strength and other abilities. It was a freak accident when he discovered
the reverse of delta G -- the delta O ray, which, in a surprising and welcome
display of justice in the laws of the universe, had no effect on females but
did work on males. It was thanks to small infusions of surplus delta O that he
could walk again, despite the merciless beating that Mandi and Randi had
inflicted on him, leaving him close to death, confined to a wheelchair for
months while Brandi took full control of earth, promulgated her horrible
"religion" and installed the hideous harridans as her ministers of domination
and discipline. Now he was recovering, but so slowly.

If only he had discovered Moron earlier, before Brandi had become "Goddess
Brandi." Before he had been beaten to an inch of his life. When he still had a
fully outfitted lab. Before he'd had to divert half of his electrical power to
quantotronic shielding to conceal himself from Brandi's super-vision. When he
could have pursued his research in large, bold steps, instead of creeping,
mouselike advances, fearful that Brandi would burst in at any moment and
deprive him of the fruit of his work. As she always did. Then he could have
generated large amounts of delta O energy with proper safeguards and applied
it to himself regularly, increasing his strength, his sight, his intellectual
abilities, his vitality, exponentially. He couldn't even imagine how far he
would have evolved by now, what power he would have gained. Now, instead, he
has to content himself with the tiny amounts produced by two minutes of mouse
exposure, thirty seconds of cat exposure, twenty-five from dogs and thirty
from rabbits. At this rate it will take five more years before he has enough.
Unless ... but no. He cannot dare take that chance. This time HAS to be
different. This time he HAS to be careful. Because in the wrong hands ....

The TV screen burst to life. Not again!

"Acolytes, worshippers, subjects and slaves. Listen up. Your goddess has
news!" Brandi was smiling. He couldn't help but stare at her, dressed in a
translucent fabric that seemed to glow from within and floated just above her
amazing figure, revealing its shape but not daring to touch it. "Your
attention is duly noted. Now, thanks to my matchless inspiration, the tireless
devotion of my worshippers and acolytes, and the mindless drudgery of my
subjects and slaves, I am so pleased to tell you that there are now three
thousand thirty-three NEW prayers to me."

Three thousand!

"Now, instead of going about the meaningless tasks of your worthless lives,
you can devote all your waking moments to contemplating your goddess and
learning new ways of expressing your admiration, envy and longing for me, so
that, in just six months time, you will have the pleasure of reciting all
three thousand three hundred thirty-three at my command!"

She raises an eyebrow. "What's this? Mr. Brown! I'm so disappointed!" A man,
startled and in evident pain suddenly appears beside her. "I brought him here,
at super-speed, of course, for a little chat. Now, Mr. Brown doesn't think
this is how he should spend his next months. He has 'other things' to do with
his 'precious time'! Is that right, Cyril?" He looks at her in terror. "Oh
Cyril, you can speak the truth. I'm not going to hurt you for doing that. Now
what was it you told your wife? 'I'm not learning one more prayer for that
bitch goddess?' Was that it?" Mr. Brown nods. "There, there. Now we all know.
Mandi, what happens to slaves who don't love their goddess."

The camera pulls back slightly to show the goddess's ministers, Mandi and
Randi, each dressed in tight-fitting black spandex. "Why, they are punished,"
she replies with a broad smile.

"Y-you're gonna kill me!" Cyril says, trembling.

Brandi looks at him with contempt. "You? A mere slave? I would demean myself
by taking your life? I don't THINK so. No. I won't stop you from going."

"Th-thank you, b-b-blessed goddess!" he says, prostrating himself before her
as she yawns. "Your mercy is a blessing."

Brandi frowns. "No, no no! That's not right at all. NO! THIS is EXACTLY why we
need MORE prayers. Mandi, WHAT should that wretched slave have said?"

Mandi beams. "Blessed goddess. We thank you for your mercy and for your
punishments. We are blessed always by your judgment, whether you select us for
pleasure or pain. It is for your pleasure only that we exist at all."

Brandi caresses Mandi's cheek. "Very good, dear. That is new prayer 1632. See
how quickly my ministers have learned? THAT is what you SHOULD have said,
Brown. For that, your punishment shall be doubled. Randi?"

"Yes, my goddess. It is my PLEASURE to serve you!" Randi says brightly.

Cyril trembles more. "Punishment? But you said you wouldn't ... and how could
I know the new prayer? You just told us about them."

"These prayers say only what should have been in your heart all along. Any
other thoughts -- of ANY kind -- are blasphemous!" She laughs. "Isn't that
just TOTALLY unfair? And yet, it is my will, which you must obey. Have you,"
and by her look she makes it clear that she refers to the whole world, "ANY of
you, ANY CHOICE at all?"

Cyril shakes his head.

"Have you nothing more to say to your goddess?"

Mandi grins. "He's too SCARED of saying the wrong thing."

"His heart MUST be wicked," Randi echoes, licking her lips.

"It pleases me so to have the two of you to do my will," Brandi says, putting
an arm around each of Mandi and Randi. Centered in the large screen, their
happy images beam over all the world.

Mark glares with hatred at the three women, each of them basking in the
enjoyment of power that should have been his.

"May I go?" Cyril asks quietly.

The three women look at each other and burst out laughing.

"I TOLD you I won't stop you, wretched slave." Brandi floats into the air and
settles into a lotus position, watching with eager amusement.

"But that doesn't mean WE won't," Mandi and Randi say together.

Brandi looks down on them. "They're just girls. They shouldn't be a problem
for a big, strong man like you."

Cyril's brow furrows as he eyes the bulging muscular arms of Mandi and Randi.
Although he is a tall man, they are each two inches taller and glow with
health and vitality. "I'm not as strong as I was. The slave work you and your
henchmen --

Brandi corrects him. "My acolytes."

"-- give me exhausts me. And my diet is just rice and water."

"We get ten hours of sleep every night," Randi says.

"Massages whenever we want them," Mandi adds.

"Personal trainers at our beck and call"

"The best doctors"

"And the very BEST exercise equipment."

"We eat tons of protein"

"Plenty of steak and eggs"

"Broccoli and Spinach"

"Wheat germ, bean curd"

"The absolute freshest fruit"

"Flown in from all over the world"

"And we've had dynamitam," they say in unison, giggling.

Mark clenches his fists. It was HIS formula, using the rare mineral dynamitam,
that made their bodies the perfect expression of their genetic potential and
multiplied their strength many times over.

"If you'll just let me go home to ...." Cyril starts to walk away.

Randi puts her hand on his. "Oh, no!"

"No WAY," adds Mandi, her hands on her hips.

"You insulted our goddess."

"You MUST be punished."

"Taught a lesson."

"For your own good."

They laugh. "Or not. But for ours. So everyone knows the rules."

"You have to do what Goddess Brandi says."

"Or answer to us"

"Or her acolytes"

"Who are in better shape than you are"

"Better rested"

"Better fed"

"Better cared for"

Cyril pulls to get away, more and more desperately, while Randi, completely
relaxed, holds him in place with one hand while she pulls back her lustrous
blond hair with the other.

Randi rolls her eyes. "And so much stronger."

"Slaves are very weak, Randi."

"They should know enough to eat better," Randi says, wagging her finger at
Cyril.

"And exercise more," adds Mandi, repeating the gesture.

"And get more sleep," Randi says, with a firm shake of her head.

"But they STILL could never be as strong as we are!"

"Or as healthy!"

"Thanks to our goddess!!" they say together, looking up at Brandi.

Cyril's face reddens with effort, his muscles straining, his veins rising to
the surface.

"Just LOOK at him, Randi."

"I KNOW. For a slave, his muscles aren't TOO bad."

"No, not for a slave. But they have so little power.

"And they don't get very big at all."

"Not the way ours do." Mandi flexes her right arm. Her biceps, looking as
deadly as a cannonball, shoot out to nearly 27". Cyril's eyes explode in
amazement.

"Yeah." Randi flexes hers, which are a match for her sister's. Large, round,
rock solid. She turns her wrist, forcing Cyril to spin around. Randi pushes
his arm higher, up against his back. "It hardly seems fair," she says, licking
her lips with obvious pleasure.

"I know!" Mandi says, eyes shining.

Randi pushes Cyril's arm up further, evoking a groan of pain. She grins, her
white teeth sparkling. "Mandi, you can play too, you know."

"Oh thanks!" She steps up closer to Cyril and examines his pain-wracked face.
"You're not much of a fighter, you know."

"Actually, he used to be a professional boxer," Brandi says.

Mandi bows her head. "Bless you, goddess, for the gift of your wisdom."

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Cyril powers a jab at Mandi's cheek. He
connects solidly but cries out in pain when his knuckles shatter against her
much harder cheek bone. He looks down at his ruined hand, while Mandi's head
snaps up angrily.

"You hit me while I was praying! Well, that's what you get!" she says sharply.
She grabs his wrist and examines his limp, curled fingers. With an angry
grimace she squeezes it and shatters the bones there as well. Randi lets go,
letting Mandi twist his arm back in another unnatural position. Ignoring yet
another even more anguished howl of pain from Cyril, Mandi fingers the red
mark on her face with her free hand and the slight swelling where he hit her.
"Does it look bad, Randi?"

Even on the TV screen Mark sees the redness fade in just a few seconds, and
ten seconds later the swelling is gone too.

"No, sweetie. You're all better! You know how quickly we heal."

"That was so MEAN!" Mandi stamps her heel down on top of Cyril's foot,
cracking that bone too. Randi lets go of his arm and he slumps to the floor,
outside of the view on the screen. "Do you want to finish him?"

"You should. You're the one who got hit."

"Thanks sis! I really want to."

Mandi kicks off her sandal and casually raises her foot, examining her toes.
Then she stamps down again. A little fountain of blood spurts up, accompanied
by one last groan. Mandi and Randi step away daintily to avoid the mess and to
stand below the still floating Brandi.

"They break so easily," Randi observes. "They are really so inferior."

"Messy too," adds Mandi, wrinkling her nose.

"Their children will be inferior to yours too, since your genes are optimized
and completely dominant. I could have a master race of ministers and
acolytes," Brandi observed. "But no boys. I'd have to kill them. They'd just
get all the slave girls pregnant with little master race children. There'd be
too many. I'd have to kill them all, and I wouldn't want to be bothered
keeping track of where they deposit their sperm."

"We'd have such darling little babies!" Randi squeals. "I LOVE dressing little
girls." She claps her hands. "Little SUPER-girls."

"Little boys are cute too," Mandi says uncertainly, then, suddenly fearful,
looks up at Brandi. "Forgive me, goddess, for my imperfect obedience. Crush my
will with all your power, so that what remains is wholly yours, forever."

"Mmmmmmmmm, an enchanting idea," Brandi purrs, looking at Mandi closely. She
looks back at the screen, focusing again on the less important six billion
individuals in the world. "I was saying -- before the 'late' Cyril's stupid,
dissenting words -- you will all have to work much harder during the next six
months. Although I learn instantly, and my ministers, with their enhanced
minds, needed just two days to commit my new prayers to memory, your little
brains are not capable of learning the new devotions without endless hours of
study and rehearsal. How sad for you, especially because those who fail will
die most horribly and in the most humiliating ways we can think of. Is that
right my little pets? Poor little weaklings!" Brandi licks her lips and then
looks at Mandi and Randi, who feign concern for those watching. "I know that
after finishing the other tasks I give, plus the hours you need for study, you
will have too little time left to do the humble drudgery to make the food and
shelter you so pathetically need to survive. Therefore, I will henceforth
organize your lives to eliminate that problem. You, my worshippers, my
subjects and my slaves will move out of the little hovels you call your homes
into new mass population centers you will build, where bland little meals will
be provided for you. I will destroy all other buildings, which might distract
you -- it will take just a moment for me -- so you must go outside right after
this broadcast or you'll be crushed. I do mean right away! My acolytes will
direct your building work, which I suggest you complete as soon as you can,
especially those of you living where it is winter. I will also confiscate all
your food supplies. Henceforth, food will be available only at the new
centers. So, first, let me hear your 'Longing' prayer and then, GET TO
WORK!!!"

Mark stares at the screen in horror. No! Even if she can't see him, since the
TV screen is installed she'll someone is here. She will destroy his hideway,
and all his work. His only chance for revenge -- NO! There is only one option
now. His back-up plan, as dangerous as it is, is now his only hope. He looks
at his pile of tiny pills -- they will do. With the flick of a switch he
converts the broadcast range of the Delta ray projector from internal to
external and sets the remote activation. Done. Now, the quantotronic
shielding. It would have to come off anyway to power the external Delta ray
projection, but it has to come off NOW for a second, more critical reason. He
needs Her for his plan. He looks longingly at the switch. It has been his only
protection for four years. But he has no choice. Better to do it now than for
everything to be destroyed for nothing. He powers it down.

Brandi is floating contently, no doubt listening to her prayers, but as the
shield goes down her eyebrows rise in delight. She says one word, "Mark!" and
a second later she stands before him, with Mandi and Brandi in tow right
behind her.

"I just KNEW you'd turn up, sooner or later."

"B-Brandi. How nice to, uh, see you ... again."

She glances up at the now dark TV screen. "That's silly. You see me several
times a day. I hope you've been saying your prayers." She raises an eyebrow.
"I DO so want to hear your Longing prayer in person." She leans back and
twists gently from side to side, letting Mark see the proud outline of her
impressive bust.

Mark swallows. "How I Long for your presence, though it overwhelms me, for
your look, though it cuts through me, for your touch, though it crushes me and
for your beauty, though it leaves me empty of Longing, for what else can I
Long for after your perfection."

"How sweet! And look how you respond to me! That little swelling you so
laughably refer to as a "hard" on but that makes you so tender and vulnerable
and so desperate. Not hard at all, like me" She glances at his laboratory.
"Just look at all this stuff! Won't you miss it when I destroy it? No more
plotting against me, just total subservience, 24 hours a day. Hmmmmm." Her
brow knits in contemplation. "What's this, Mark?" She looks at the pile of
tiny pills. "You've been hard at work! But what a waste. Just a quick look at
the chemical structure tells me they won't work on you or any male." She walks
over to it. "But very impressive."

"Goddess, what if it's a trick, some kind of poison?" Mandi warns.

"A trick? Do you think Mark would try to trick me? After all he's done for
me?" She looks slyly at Mark, then at Mandi. "You try them first, Randi."

Mandi looks momentarily shocked, catches herself, and starts to ask
forgiveness but Brandi silences her by clamping her hand hard on Mandi's
mouth. "Enough!" She says, rolling her eyes. She points at the pile. "There
are one hundred eighty-seven there, Randi. You take one. Then we'll wait.
Then, if Randi survives, Mandi will take ten."

Randi nods obediently and takes one in her hand.

"No!" Mark cries out, rushing forward to stop her. In the blink of an eye,
Brandi turns her head, purses her lips and blows him across the room. He
crashes into the wall.

"You're such an enjoyable little toy!" she says, amused. "What a waste it will
be to make you just another slave!"

Mark groans loudly but is still conscious and watches the proceedings from
afar.

"Can I, like, have some water to swallow it with?" Randi asks with a hesitant
whine.

"What IS it with you two this morning? No, you may not! Just swallow! Before I
reduce you to a little pile of ash!" Brandi snarls, shoving Mandi away from
her.

The two girls are completely cowed. Randi, nervous and frowning, takes the
pill. At first she stands very still, then slowly begins to smile. "I don't
know what it is, but I feel GREAT!"

Brandi looks at her carefully, perhaps using some of her powers of
super-vision. "Very interesting. Now you, Mandi."

With a furrowed brow, Mandi takes ten pills in her hand, closes her eyes and
gulps them down. More quickly than Randi she also starts to smile. "Cool!"

"I feel so strong!" Randi says, flexing her biceps. "And I think I'm growing!"
She looks at her sister. "Hey, I'm taller than Mandi!"

Mark watches them nervously. He feels a strange presence in the room, like a
shadow dancing across his mind.

"Not for long, sis!" Mandi says, chuckling, feeling the effects of a dose ten
times as powerful. Sooner than her sister did she starts growing too, and even
without flexing, her biceps already look larger than Randi's. "Oh god! It's
like I can hear --

"Quiet, you two. I've seen enough." Brandi breathes in, sucking up the
remaining pills from ten feet away. "Mmmmmmmmmmm. Incredible! The best yet!"
An aura begins to shine around her. "My powers, I can feel them being
amplified with every passing instant! If I were a goddess before...." She
seems to appear at several places in the room at the same time. "I can even
--" She shoots a look at Mark. "Oh no you --

But Mark has already activated the Delta ray projector, filling the room with
Delta G rays. Randi and Mandi become limp and even Brandi stops cold, frozen
in place. She tries to move, to get at Mark or to destroy the projector, but
she cannot. The sisters fall to the floor, but Brandi is still standing, still
obviously trying to break free. Trying and failing. Mark keeps the projector
operating, longer than ever before. He rises to his feet, crossing the room as
Brandi shrinks below six feet, to five and a half feet and then to five feet
two inches, her arms becoming thinner, softer, her legs increasingly unsteady
as her muscles lose their tone, the vitality draining from her eyes. Only her
fantastic breasts retain their size, her elastic dress still tightly wrapped
around them. The amount of her power is amazing; the projector's batteries
glow brightly as they gather her massive energies. Finally she trembles and
falls to the floor as well. Mark stares at her, not believing his eyes. But
it's true. He has won! At last. He turns off the projector cautiously, keeping
the remote at hand until he is sure that her weakness is not just a trick. She
groans softly. Mark bends toward her and with a tentative motion, slaps her
bottom, her small, round, soft, squishy bottom. She whimpers. She is normal
now, completely normal. He has stripped her, the "Goddess Brandi," of all her
stupendous power! The Moron has done it!! He pushes her unresisting body flat
onto the floor and smacks her bottom again, firmly this time, enjoying the
sound of his palm hitting her all too yielding flesh, the recoil of her body
from the sudden, unfamiliar jolt of pain.

"YES!" he cries with a shout, rising and punching the air with his fist. "I've
done it! I've finally done it!"

"No!" she whines. "Oh no! So weak, so utterly weak." She slowly pushes herself
to her feet and raises her hand to slap Mark, but her hand moves ever so
slowly, as though passing through water. Mark lets it brush against his cheek,
more a caress than a blow. "Nooooo!" she moans. "It can't be!" She stares at
Mark, perhaps trying to incinerate him with her heat vision, but her eyes just
water. "You fiend, you heretic, you ... you ... you awful thing!" she cries in
her weak voice. She, who minutes ago ruled over the entire Earth, now cannot
even think of a good insult. She is completely at his mercy.

Mark's joy increases even more when he turns to watch Mandi and Randi
reverting to their original appearance, the Moron and Delta G ray combination
also undoing the enhancements made by his Dynamitam formula, just as it
absorbed Brandi's superpowers
(http://www.thevalkyrie.com/stories/marknew/brandi2.txt) and the muscle and
strength she gained years ago thanks to his muscle cream
(http://www.thevalkyrie.com/stories/marknew/brandi1.txt). Now those energies
are stored in the projector batteries as well. Randi flops around like a fish
on land, the fat returning and spilling out the sides of her spandex costume,
her pathetically weak muscles unable to lift her fat tub off the ground, while
Mandi, thinner than Randi, climbs shakily to her feet but totters helplessly.
A gentle push from Mark sends her reeling back to the floor.

But what do they matter? It is Brandi he cares about, her defeat that sets his
spirits soaring. He approaches her again and she cringes, her soft arms
covering her face. "Don't hurt me again. Please, I beg you," she pleads. She,
responsible for the death of millions, perhaps billions, cowers before him,
fearing so small a thing as a spanking. Oh, to slap that vulnerable little ass
of hers again and again as she lies helpless on his knee, her arms pushing
futilely against him until he brushes them aside as though he were swatting a
fly. What sweeter triumph could there be? Has she guessed? Does she have ANY
idea? Mark is bursting with anticipation. As delicious as this moment is, it
will only get better.

He glances at the projector. It is ready, the charging cycle complete. With
the firing of the Delta O ray his victory will be his, with all the combined
power of Brandi, Mandi and Randi, all their enhancements finally his, plus the
amazing, ever expanding power of the Moron. As it should be. As it should
always have been! He savors the moment, imagining the power about to flow into
him. He would be many times more powerful than Brandi ever was but he would
rule the Earth so much better, so much more efficiently. He would feel no need
for arbitrary displays of power, for random acts of cruelty. No need to
humiliate others. No. Not when his supremacy would be wholly unquestioned. Ha!
Unquestionable. Although he would make an exception for Brandi. The world
would have to be shown that she was no longer -- No! Never Was! -- a
"Goddess." They would have to see her as she is. Weak, helpless, begging for
mercy. And to see him, Mark, as their deliverer, their liberator. And, as
their new master. A kind master of course. A benevolent one. With their own
best interests at heart. He was almost drooling in anticipation of their
adoration. Their love. Their grateful acknowledgement of his brilliance, his
superiority and his beneficence.

"You pathetic little girl. You thought you were a GODDESS? You thought you
could destroy MY world? See now how I've destroyed YOURS!" he shouts
triumphantly. "And this is only the beginning. Do you hear me? The beginning!"
She stands there mutely, her large eyes watching him. Even now he can do
ANYTHING to her and she can do nothing to stop him. And she knows it. He
watches her chest rise and fall with each rapid, fearful breath. Her breasts,
still magnificently thrusting, her passive, doelike eyes, and her body, soft
now, but still the object of years of his longing, now accessible, available,
fully open to him, all ignite his desire. He can't resist. And why should he?
After all she's done, could anyone blame him? And soon, would anyone DARE? He
frees his engorged member from its constraints and pushes her "goddess" gown
upwards. She gives a little cry of resistance, but that is all she can manage.
Her weakened body is so yielding, almost welcoming as he pushes inside her.
Her arms encircle his back, holding him with the shred of strength that she
retains. Does she want him? Or does she think she can appease him now, simply
by surrendering to the inevitable? No matter. It is HIS needs that matter now.
HIS desires. He pistons into her more and more forcefully, heeding nothing but
the arc of his desire, first, and then the building urgency of his release
until with a final thrust he comes inside her with a fury greater than any
he's ever known, the years of frustration, of satisfaction long denied, now
expressed in the flood of his juices he discharges, filling her to
overflowing.

Feeling emptied but satisfied, for now, he lifts himself off her. She looks at
him, her face nearly expressionless except for a slightly unnerving twitch in
her mouth. He feels a brief wave of loss. Is it a loss of dignity he feels, of
moral stature, of justification? Or is it just the post-coital hormonal tide
sweeping through him, the emptiness inside following the surrender of his
fluids to her? But one more look at her snaps him out of his reverie. It is
good that he's "taken" her, finally, using nothing but his own, human
strength. But now it's time. Time for more. Time to become more! He withdraws
from her and using the remote activates the projector. The room is bathed in
the orange light of the delta O ray, the discharge of the overfull batteries
making the burst of radiation thousands of times more intense than ever
before. He stands with his eyes closed, his arms outstretched. But to his
immediate surprise, the tingling through his body is only a bare fraction of
what he has previously felt. Even worse, the inrush of energy, of power,
vitality, life and strength he anticipated is absent, or only a bare trickle,
like the faint light produced by an nearly empty battery. He opens his eyes to
look at the projector. Its battery is already 90% discharged, as it should be.
Now it's 95%. What is happening? What is wrong? The projector ends its firing
sequence, the battery exhausted.

He looks around the room, panicking. Has he blown it? Again? How could he have
miscalculated? Mandi and Randi still lie on the floor. He feels a slight
increase in strength, but perhaps he just imagines it. Perhaps it is just the
lassitude from his orgasm fading. But it's nothing, NOTHING like what he
SHOULD feel.

He stamps his feet in anger. How is this possible?! HOW!!!? He runs to the
projector and rechecks the settings. Everything is as it should be. Except for
one thing. The most important thing. Himself!

"Disappointed, Mark?" Brandi says, her eyes animated, her mouth smirking, the
twitch gone. He whirls around. She laughs. "Oh I so enjoy this. I LIVE for
this, you know."

"What?!"

"To see you so frustrated. Stymied. Over and over again." She props herself
against the wall, pulling her dress down slightly but not all the way, letting
Mark look at her legs. "As entertaining as the last four years have been,
something has been missing. You. Even with my immense power, ruling the world,
satisfying my every whim, it's always left me feeling ... incomplete."

"Power corrupts. Absolute power --

"Spare me. Absolute power is the greatest! I've had it so I know, and I'm sure
you agree 'cause that's what you want too, isn't it? What I've missed is you.
Watching you fail. Your desire for power that you never achieve. Your
brilliant inventions that never work as you plan. All the things you do to
defeat me, only to end up making me even more powerful. You have NO idea how
much fun it is. How it warms and excites me to see you like this."

"My unhappiness excites you? That's so sick!"

"I love having power over other people. Any kind. I admit it. But it's not
your unhappiness that arouses me. I don't give a fuck whether you're happy or
sad. It's frustrating you that has its own special flavor. And I'm never
satisfied. I always want more of it. You say you want power. You dedicate your
life to various schemes to give yourself unlimited, absolute power. And you're
smart, brilliant, even. Who could have even imagined creating what you have --
the stuff of comic books and Saturday morning cartoon shows -- yet you've made
it real. What a triumph for you -- of sorts," she says, giggling at the last
comment. "But can there be any greater triumph for someone like me than taking
what you've created and enjoying it for myself? So that you never even get a
taste of it? Not only that, so that you end up even weaker than before? We're
the same, Mark, you and I, in what we want. But what greater satisfaction can
there be to find your twin and then destroy him?"

"I'm not your twin! I'm nothing like you!"

She shrugs. "Maybe not. Maybe what you really want, all along, is to make ME
powerful. Maybe you just pretend to yourself that you want power, when you'd
rather give me power over you." She hugs herself. "I like that idea. What a
perfect couple we are!"

"Never!!"

"Did you KNOW why that orange ray thingy worked only on males?"

"No. But there was a 100% correlation. I couldn't ask for better proof."

"Really? At least, 100% 'til now. Until it really counted."

"Right." Mark sighs. "That's the way it always happens."

"I know! What a coincidence. Just when I'm here! Think Mark. What if it wasn't
being male that made the orange thingy work? What if it was something males
have, instead of what they are?"

Mark feels a sudden chill run through him. "What are you talking about? What
do YOU know about it?"

"I can't believe I have to explain this to you of all people." Brandi pushes
herself away from the wall and walks toward him. "You were acting so cocky
before. You were really a little scary. Taking away my powers, leaving me and
my ministers weak and completely helpless, ranting and raving about destroying
me. It's enough to frighten a girl, you know. But then I saw you wanted to
make love to me, and it made me see the whole thing in a different light."

"I wasn't 'making love' to you!"

"I think you were. You were giving me the greatest gift you could offer.
Yourself. You were inside me. You came inside me, and you left a little bit of
yourself in me." She hugs herself again and twirls around. "I was surprised at
first and scared but then I thought, 'you always come through for me, Mark,'
and so I trusted you. If you wanted to make love to me then I wanted it too. I
knew it must be right."

"You're crazy. I was raping you."

She smiles and touches him on the nose flirtatiously. "You may have THOUGHT
you were raping me, but I let you. I wanted you to do it, so how could it be
rape?"

"You had no choice. You were too weak to resist."

"I didn't want to resist. I knew that whatever you were doing, you were doing
it for my own good. And I was right!"

Mark shakes his head. "You've lost me."

"No, I'll never lose you, Mark. Never again. Silly man." She laughs and leans
back gracefully like a dancer. Her large breasts push out her dress and point
upwards, and Mark can't resist staring at them. Brandi thrusts out her breasts
further and sings,

"How lovely to be a woman,

And have one job to do;

To pick out a boy and train him

And then when you are through,

You've made him the man you want him to be!

Life's lovely when you're a woman like me!"
(http://www.stlyrics.com/lyrics/byebyebirdie/howlovelytobeawoman.htm)

"I hate 'Bye, Bye Birdie'" Mark growls.

"That's because you're not a woman, Mark!" she laughs and goes on,

"How lovely to have a figure

That's round instead of flat"

Mark gets angrier. "Stop with that stupid song!"

"Am I frustrating you, darling? What are you going to do? Spank me?"

"You bet I will."

"How wonderful to know

The things a woman knows

La la la la la la la

La la la la la la

How lovely to be so grown-up and free

Life's lovely when you're a woman like me!"

Mark grabs her. "That's enough!" He reaches back and slams his hand against
her round bottom. "OWWW!!" he screams.

Brandi turns her head and says, sweetly, "Something the matter, Mark? Is that
poor widdle hand of yours bwoken?"

"No! That's --

"Impossible?" Brandi puckers her lips and kisses the air, producing a
thunderous sound and a shockwave that shatters every test tube in the lab.

"Noooo!"

She slips her arm through Mark's and winks at him, while an intense beam
shoots past him out of her other eye and turns the Delta ray projector into a
molten mass of slag. "There! All fixed!" She closes her arm on his, tucking it
between her biceps and her forearm so that he can't escape and puts her hands
on her hips. "Frustrated now?" she laughs as he tries to pull away.

"But ... this can't be ... it never worked on ... and you ... haven't even
grown ...." Mark sputters as he continues to try to break his hold. "You're
not even trying!"

"No! 'Cause I'm so strong! More powerful than ever! More powerful with each
second."

"But it's not supposed to work on females!"

"Not ordinarily. And as we've seen, it doesn't work on males either, if
they've just shot their 'load'. But it does work on a female who's been
blessed with a load of cum -- and it was a very full load in this case. That's
what your orange ray thingy reacts with. The cum you would've had inside you
-- if you hadn't given it all to me." She tightens her arm slightly and Mark
cries out in pain. "Oooooh, you were so SWEET to 'make love' to me and give me
this little gift. I just have to sing some more!"

"How lovely to be a woman

Whose powers are so grand,

They grow and grow, more than you know,

Or ever could have planned.

How lovely to be as godlike as Mark had wished to be,

Life's lovely when you're a woman like me!"

Mark puts his hand on his forehead and winces.

"Ah, it's back again! So, you called it the Moron??!!" She roars with
laughter. "That's so funny!"

"What are you talking about? What do YOU know about that"

"Didn't you know? I can read minds now. I was starting to before, just before
you turned on the -- what is it? oh, OK! -- the Delta G rays. Didn't you
wonder why you were getting headaches? Those little mice and bunnies, just
starting to read your mind. Before they, or I now, could control it properly."

"You can read my mind?"

"As easily as I can see your face. Oh, and it gets more powerful with every
second. There! I can read everyone's mind now, all over the earth. Tee hee! No
secrets from the goddess now!"

"Oh god no! No!" Mark sobs while Brandi watches, smiling.

"That's 'goddess', if you haven't noticed! It must be so hard for you," she
says, grinning ear to ear. "Oh yes it is! You're so sad, so defeated. This is
GREAT! More fun than ever. I'm so happy! The worse you feel about it, the
better I feel. And I can experience your feelings SO intensely. Mmmmmmmmm!!!"
She frowns. "Hmmm. But there IS a problem here."

"A problem?!" Mark says sarcastically. "For you?"

"If you give up all hope, if you feel I'm so powerful that there's no point
trying to beat me anymore, then it will become so boring! But I know just what
to do! First, your hand!" She holds it by the wrist, and wrinkles her nose at
the swollen, bent and very tender appendage. "How pathetic! Can you believe
THIS little tush did THAT?" She wiggles her ass. "Well, just a little kiss
and, there! Good as new! I'm sure you'll need it for your work." Mark stares
at her, amazed, and moves all his fingers. "Godlike powers, see? More and
more, every second. It's so much fun! But just so you don't give up hope,
you're going have to forget all about it."

"You're going to wipe my memory?"

"A bit of it. Theirs too," she adds, pointing at Mandi and Randi. "But first
some more fun." She steps away from Mark and begins to grow until once again
she is half a foot taller than Mark, her muscles quickly expanding back to
their previous size and then past it. Her breasts rise too, lifted by more
powerful pectorals. She flexes her biceps, the rounded muscles forming twin
cannonballs. "If I'm to be all powerful, I want to look that way too!"

"Naturally. So am I going to be herded into your mass housing now? To learn
your prayers?"

"Oh no! With your quantotronic shielding, you'll think you can't be seen. And
I besides I think it will be best for me to disappear for awhile. Let you and
the rest of them all wonder what's happened to me, and in the meantime I'll
just intervene 'magically', here and there, when it amuses me, just so you
won't forget about me. You'll see. But you'll have to think of something
different from the Delta G ray. 'Been there, done that' you know. You'll
forget all about that one too." Mark scowls. "Uh, huh. And you won't like the
next part either." She points her finger at Mark's head. "I'll be going now,
but we'll meet again, I know it."

"Brandi! No! I --" She fades away. For a moment, Mark looks confused. Then he
looks around at the wreckage of his lab and sees Mandi and Randi on the floor.

"Hmmmph! Sending her 'ministers' to 'take care' of me. It was a great battle,
but I've taken their strength away thanks to my ... uh, my -- how did I do it?
Well, that will have to do, for now, until I can get to their 'goddess'." He
walks over to them and stands above them, triumphant. "What do you hideous
harridans have to say for yourselves now? Hmmmm?"

Mandi stands unsteadily. "I feel awful!" she complains.

"I can't even get up!" Randi whines.

"You did this to us!" Mandi says, staggering over to him, only the spandex
holding her flabby body together.

Mark steps aside and twists her arm behind her back. "It will be SUCH a
pleasure to give you back the beating you and your sister gave me!"

"OWWW! And I have such a headache too!"

"Me too," Randi chimed in. "Can't I at least have a Motrin before?"

"Yeah, Mark. That's the LEAST you could do for us, after making us so weak!"

"Please Mark. I'd get it myself but I can't walk. And I wouldn't know where to
find it in this messy lab anyway. Please!"

"All right. All right. Geez!" He looks around and goes to his medicine
cabinet. "You're in luck. One bottle of Motrin. Two pills left."

"Is it Extra-Strength?"

"I always take TWO pills! One's not enough for the headaches I get!"

"You? Mine are much worse!"

"Shut up you two! It's Motrin-D, all right?! There's two pills and that's all
there is. One for each of you. Take it or leave it!!

"I'll take it!!" they each say.

"Can I have some water?" Randi asks

"NO!" Mark yells.

Mandi and Randi look at each other. "He's such a grouch," Mandi says, taking
the pills in her hand and leaning down to give one to her sister.

"I know," Randi agrees. "He always thinks WE'RE, like, evil, when he's the one
who's always yelling and treating us bad. Do you think he's really going to
hurt us a lot?"

"Probably. I think he's really into the revenge thing. I mean, what kind of
man beats up girls?!

"I know! He--"

"Will you two just get on with it and take your headache pills so I can KILL
you!!" Mark says, exasperated.

Mandi and Randi shrug and pop the pills in the mouths, trying to swallow them
dry, and them chewing them with difficulty.

"It doesn't taste THAT bad," Randi says, coughing. "Hey!" She looks down in
amazement as the ample roll of fat around her middle deflates like the air
flowing out of a leaking balloon. She holds up her arm as the last of the
jiggly fat on it disappears too and the skin tightens, immediately followed by
a new bulge of burgeoning biceps. "Yay-y-y! I'm getting strong again!" She
lifts up the bottom of her shirt and shows off the deepening plates of her
abdominal muscles. "Yes!" Randi stands up. She is growing taller too, her
shoulders widen and her chest pushes outwards. "This is even better than the
first time! Is my hair blonder again?"

"It sure is, sis! It's gorgeous." Meanwhile, Mandi is flexing her muscles,
watching delightedly as they rise higher and harder each time. She looks
across the room at the small bottle of Motrin-D sitting on the table. "Isn't
that interesting? It says, 'Motrin-D. With new and improved "Dynamitam II".'"

"Dynamitam?! I LOVE Dynamitam!" Randi cries delightedly.

"You can't be reading that tiny print from 15 feet away!" Mark says,
nervously. He snatches the bottle again, straining to read the words. "This,
uh, is an obvious fake. Dynamitam is a mineral, not a synthetic compound.
There can't be any such thing as Dynamitam II," he explains condescendingly.

Mandi takes a deep breath and contentedly runs her hands over her expanding
breasts and down her lats, feeling the rock hard muscles along her waist and
then puts her hands on her hips and, smiling broadly, nods her head slowly.
Her expanding chest puts increasing stresses on her top, the stretches growing
deeper and deeper. She and Randi are still growing taller and taller and now
pass seven feet. Even at that size, their muscles are disproportionately large
and continue to grow. They look down with eager anticipation at the
increasingly frightened Mark.

"Brandi!" Mark cries out in sudden realization.

They advance on him and back him against a wall. Now just under eight feet
tall, their pectoral muscles push their breasts out further and further
filling the space above Mark's head. "You should have said, 'Blessed goddess.
We thank you for your mercy and for your punishments. We are blessed always by
your judgment, whether you select us for pleasure or pain. It is for your
pleasure only that we exist at all!!'" the sisters say, correcting him.

"Clever girls!" says a voice that fills the room. "Enjoy my gift to you whom I
have chosen for pleasure. Show Mark what a little 'Dynamitam II' can do. But
don't kill him." She sings, operatically, "He's got a lot of living to do!"

"Bye, Bye Birdie!" "We love that movie!" the girls squeal as their muscles
burst through even the enhanced spandex they wear.

"Of course you do! Bye, bye Mandi. Bye, bye Randi. Bye, bye Mark. For now."