The frog prince 
by THE MIGHTY LINGSTER  and Marknew 



-- Lingster

No growth in the first chapter, but you have to read it if you want to have a
clue as to what's going on. So saieth the Mighty Lingster, and let none
question His word, lest they face the full force of His rapier-like wit. Also,
shouldst thou dwell...(getting old)...if you live in a country which forbids
access to adult literature, or if you are beneath the age of majority in the
country from which you have logged into the vast neoprene tangle of the
Internet, kindly take a flying fuck at a galloping goose, because I don't want
you reading my shit. Got me?

-- Continued by Marknew, with permission from the MIGHTY ONE, given before his
tragic internet death. A great talent, lost to us far too soon. But, enough of
that. On to the story.

All new from the conveniently placed ***. Some edits before that to make it
all consistent.

T H E F R O G P R I N C E

Chapter 1 -- Life Is Like A Bowl Of Cherries

Johnathan looked down into the toilet as he voided the night's pee, his vision
slowly clearing to reveal the filth covering the rim of the commode. Flecks of
shit were scattered all along the inside, and he fought back a sudden urge to
retch. "Goddamn fucking plumbing...!" he began, but suddenly closed his eyes
and took several deliberate, long breaths. He opened the cabinet beneath his
sink and pulled out the toilet bowl cleaner, and began the unpleasant chore.

Minutes later, in the shower, he thought back to his reaction. "Not good. The
stress from work must really be affecting me, I CAN'T let myself lose control.
I just can't." He washed himself off, paying special attention to his hands,
and then shut off the water and toweled himself off. His heart rate had
slowed, he knew, and he went into the kitchen to make his usual ginseng tea.

After finishing breakfast, Johnathan got dressed and left for work. He walked
to the subway station, and got on the 9 train, which would take him downtown.
He noticed an attractive girl stealing glances at him, but forced himself not
to make eye contact. "Focus, focus, focus," he thought to himself.

Reaching the World Trade Center, Johnathan piled out of the train along with
most of its occupants, and made his way up and out to the street. He
walk-jogged (jalked? wogged? he wondered) the two blocks over to 135 Broadway
and pressed the button for the 23rd floor, "Hamlin Brothers Securities".
Getting off the elevator, he began to walk toward his cubicle, in the
north-east corner of the building. He passed his co-workers; most of them
didn't know him yet, he'd only been here six weeks. They didn't know his name,
they didn't know where he was from, and not a one of them knew he'd been in a
mental hospital from 1988 until 3 months ago last Tuesday.

It was a voluntary convalescence. Johanathan's doctors were prepared to
release him less than a year after the 'incident', but Johnathan refused to
leave. The doctors didn't know, or at least didn't BELIEVE, but Johnathan did.
Johnathan knew and believed, he'd seen the effects of his losing control, and
for more than seven years believed that freedom was the last and least luxury
of which he should allow himself to partake.

He banished his family -- refused to see them. Refused to see ANYONE he knew
from before. And now, after 3 months in New York, he had made not even one
friend. No lovers, not even prostitutes, would Johnathan have. No confidantes,
not even acquaintances one could consider as more than minimally casual.
Johnathan was an island. There would be no letter in a bottle, no Friday, no
rescue -- Johnathan was resolved.

Johnathan had focused on mathematical studies to keep his mind occupied and
rooted to reality -- OBJECTIVE reality -- while he was hospitalized. He read
Ayn Rand, Nietzsche, and the Stoics, but steered well clear of any author or
philosopher even remotely Cartesian, Continental, or subjective. When he
finally allowed himself to be released, he was well-equipped and pedigreed for
a job as an accountant. He had his BA in Accounting from an in-house tutor,
and his CPA through an outpatient program sponsored by the hospital. He was
suited for a job on Wall Street, and he went in search of one. His test scores
were excellent, but firms showed little interest in him because of his age.
Then one day he found a fat envelope from Hamlin Brothers in his mailbox. He
was offered a position starting at $45,000, and while that was quite low for a
CPA in Old New York, Johnathan recognized that he was lucky he was being
offered as much as that without experience. A kid right out of college would
be offered considerably less.

Johnathan's every day was a tenacious exercise in routine. Johnathan would
tolerate nothing else. The sameness was solid, it was palpable. No fantasy
could penetrate it.

Nightmares, however, sometimes poked through his routine.

Like many workplaces, Hamlin Brothers held a party on Halloween and encouraged
its employees to dress accordingly. And so it was that on this Halloween,
1996, Johnathan turned the last corner on the way to his cubicle and was
confronted by a giant frog. His heart jumped into his throat, and his vision
turned inside-out, as his worst nightmare confronted him.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! NO! NO!!! NOOOO!!!!" he screamed,
ROARED, falling backwards and kicking himself spastically backwards against
the floor. "NOOOOOO!!! GET AWAY! GET!! AWAY!!!"

People flooded the hallway to see what was happening, and were quite amazed to
see a look of absolute, unquestionable horror on Johnathan's face. Few, if
any, amongst them had ever caught a glimpse of terror so raw as that which
clearly resided in the snarl of Johnathan's lips, the taut bulge of his eyes,
the claw-like grip of the carpeted cubicle wall in his hands. Johnathan had
stopped screaming, even though he looked as though he still were. One
co-worker silently noted the expression on Johnathan's face matched precisely
the look on Lee Harvey Oswald's in the famous photo that captured Jack Ruby
shooting him. Johnathan looked stricken unto death.

Even after the frog removed its head and turned out to be Rebecca Hanson, the
very unfroglike woman in the next cubicle, Johnathan seemed to be still
possessed by the horror. It wasn't until his boss slapped him in the face that
Johnathan first realized he had not been looking at a giant frog, but rather
at a person in a frog costume.

"Ah...Ah...." he gulped air, breathing for the first time in over a minute.
"I'm all right. I'm all right. Frogs. Frogs."

But he could not clear the memories from his mind. The years peeled back and
once more he was lying in his sleeping bag, covered by his friends the frogs.

"Johnathan," his boss spoke, "come with me."

"Yes, yes, I'm okay, I'm coming." Johnathan dutifully rose to his feet and
raised the corners of his mouth in a weak smile, as if to say, "Thank you for
tolerating me." He followed his boss down to the big corner office that had a
view of the Brooklyn Bridge, whereupon he was directed to close the door. He
did so, and then took a seat. Johnathan was very good at sitting still, and he
used this talent now to create the appearance that he was calm.

"What just happened out there, Johnathan? Do you need to see a doctor?" his
boss asked.

"No. No, sir, I just had a little panic attack. That's all, sir," he reassured
his boss.

"It seemed very...extreme. You've been working very hard on the
end-of-the-year bond-swap sales initiative, I know. Why don't you take today
off? Go for a walk? It's clear you've been pushing yourself too hard, and we
really don't want incidents like this morning's, do we?"

"No, sir."

"The firm retains a personnel consultant in midtown, and they have
relationships with several stress-reduction centers and...mental health
specialists. Perhaps we could arrange a meeting?"

"I...well, uh, if you think that would be something I, er, would, yes. If you
think so. Yes," Johnathan stammered.

"Okay, then. They'll see you tomorrow, Johnathan. Take the day to rest."

"Yes, sir," Johnathan said, and then turned and left the office. He walked to
the elevator, forlornly, upset that he'd so spectacularly lost his cool
earlier.

He rode down the elevator without thinking about anything, and then wandered
north from downtown, aimlessly. Without much sense of time passing, he walked
up through TriBeCa and Soho, past his apartment in the West Village, and up
through midtown. As he passed Rockefeller Center, he decided he would continue
on to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and spend some time there.

CHAPTER 2 -- All Messed Up With No Place To Go

The painting caught his fancy. Somehow the weird melting pocket watches
reminded him of his penis. It was by a fellow named Salvador Dali, and
Johnathan begin to wonder if, in its own way, his penis wasn't JUST LIKE a
melting pocket watch. Earlier he'd had a similar attachment to a sculpture by
a man named Konstantin Brancusi -- that one was of a smooth, rounded, three
sided piece of marble that purported to be a woman. He could see her breasts,
somehow, and the place where her legs folded, and led to her vagina. "How is
it possible that a completely featureless ROCK can BE like a woman?" he
wondered.

Everything was coming undone, he could see. So he went to have lunch.

American art museums, unfortunately for Johnathan, have a pretentious habit of
selling small bottles of beer and wine in their cafeterias. Trying to be
European, no doubt. Johnathan picked up a nice, 12 oz. bottle of chablis to go
with his ham on rye, and settled down by himself in a corner. He hadn't so
much as touched alcohol in a long time. In fact his abstinence from alcohol
was one half hour longer than his abstinence from sex, and 45 minutes longer
than his abstinence, at that time, from LSD. It was 8 hours less than his
last, and thankfully, ONLY, one commission of mass murder.

One bad habit resumed, Johnathan made his way back onto the streets of Old New
York.

In due course he made his way to a bar in TriBeCa called 'The Gold Lounge'.
Unbeknownst to him, an ancestor of his, a Dutch widow named Anneke Jans, had
once owned a farm that included the land that the 'The Gold Lounge' now stood
on, as well as all the land stretching from the North Tower of the World Trade
Center up to the Holland Tunnel. Had his family held onto the property, they
would by now be one of the wealthiest on the planet, and this whole story
wouldn't have happened. Bummer.

He walked in the front door of the tavern, and sat down at a tall table about
15 feet from the bar. A pretty blonde girl was behind the brass rail, and when
she placed some glasses on a rack at eye level, he was surprised to see that
she had thick, athletic-looking arms. It was only about 7pm, and she was the
only person who appeared to be working at the moment. In due course she came
over to his table to get his order. She smiled at him in an efficient
waitress-like way, and, misinterpreting it, he felt a rush of warmth on his
face. Johnathan ordered a Bass (he'd heard it advertised on a pleasing
commercial on WNEW), but when she brought it to him a few minutes later, she
dropped it roughly, barely making eye contact with him, and rushed over to
another table where four large bankers had just ordered their third pitcher of
beer. She lingered at their table, joking with them.

Aside from the wine at the museum, Johnathan hadn't drank alcohol in nearly a
decade, so the pint glass of Bass left him a little buzzed and more relaxed
than he usually let himself be. When he finally got her attention again he
ordered another, drank it, and then ordered a third. As she brought the third
glass, the barmaid again made eye contact and smiled. Johnathan thought, quite
confidently, "She really likes me."

The barmaid began to walk away, but then paused and turned back to Johnathan.
"So..." the girl said to him, as if she wasn't sure how to continue, "what do,
uh, what's your, um, your n-name?"

"I'm Johnathan. What's your, uh, your name?"

"Su-susan," she said, blushing.

"My GOD!" Johnathan thought to himself, "She REALLY likes me!"

Susan's blush deepened, and Johnathan could tell that she was breathing
heavily. She looked around suddenly, as if unsure of her location, and then
looked back at him, biting her lower lip. She glanced down at the floor,
embarrassed, then stepped closer to him and made eye contact, "Do you....think
I'm pretty, J-Johnathan?"

"She's not smart," he thought, and noticed a confused look come over her, but,
"You're very beautiful, yes." And while he bathed in the glow of her smile, he
suddenly realized that she wasn't just a pretty girl, but truly beautiful,
just as he'd said.

He noticed her nipples rising and pressing against the fabric of her shirt,
and the thought crossed his mind that she had very large, very firm-looking
breasts. He realized that although Susan had not moved, her breasts seemed to
be rising towards him, pushing forward and stretching the buttons on her
blouse.

Suddenly, one of the buttons slipped free of its eyelet, and sprang away from
the middle of Susan's chest. She looked down, and made an embarrassed noise.
"Serves me right," she giggled, "for always wearing clothes I'm too BIG for!"
Susan buttoned her blouse back shut again, but it was clear from the strain of
the fabric that the button wouldn't hold long.

Johnathan looked Susan up and down, and realized that she was, in fact, too
large for her clothes. In fact, now that he noticed, she seemed to be GROWING
even larger. Suddenly the top TWO buttons of her blouse popped open. When
Susan reached up to close them again, the seams above her right shoulder gave
way, and her healthy deltoid muscle was exposed.

Susan spread her arms out in front of her and looked down at her body,
discomfited by what was happening to her clothing.

"Do you work out, Susan?" Johnathan asked, trying to regain her attention.

"Oh yes...since forever," she said, looking directly into Johnathan's eyes, "I
like lifting things. You don't think I'm too muscular, do you? My father says
my arms are much too big, and that men...won't be interested in me if they
think I'm too strong."

"I like...I mean, there's nothing wrong with a gir...woman being athletically
buil, er, athletic," he said, even as he thought, "She isn't at all inhibited,
is she."

"So you really think that's right?" she asked, beaming at him a little bit
more. "I really love being very, very strong. Most girls are so weak, but I
lift every day of the week, and it makes me happy, and it's definitely made me
get bigger."

Susan held out her arm, and lifted back the sleeve that had ripped, exposing
everything from the powerful right shoulder all the way down to her fist.
Flexing, a solid-looking wedge of muscle rose up from her upper arm.

"My biceps are my favorite body part to train," she explained, smiling
docilely, "Don't you think they're big?"

"Uh...yes," Johnathan replied, staring at Susan's muscular arm, and feeling
himself becoming aroused. Something was wrong, he knew. Susan was acting too
forward, too intimate for someone he'd just met. Warning bells should have
been going off in his head, but instead he just thought "must be the alcohol."

"You like them! I can tell from your eyes. A lot of guys don't appreciate how
STRONG I am!" she whispered, gleefully. My trainer says," she looked around,
as if to see if anyone was listening, but then returning her gaze to
Johnathan's, "that I have really dense muscles for a woman, and th-that..."

The idea of her "dense muscles" sent a shock wave through Johnathan like an
electric current multiplying his arousal. Susan seemed to shudder for a
second, and Johnathan couldn't help but notice that the vascularity of her arm
and other exposed body parts seemed to increase substantially.

"Wow! WOW!! Johnathan, I am just so STRONG. I just love being so muscular and
powerful! It must be my imagination, Johnathan, or...maybe...maybe it's just
being around you that makes me feel this way. I think....I think I love you,
Johnathan!"

"You...love ME!?" Johnathan asked, shocked.

Susan grabbed Johnathan by the lapels of his jacket and hoisted him to his
feet. She seemed surprised, as did he, that she was a) able to heft him so
easily and b)nearly as tall as he, but she hesitated for only a second before
she pressed her lips to his. Johnathan, shocked, tried to break free of her
embrace, but found that pressing against her shoulders was futile. She was
incredibly strong -- far, far stronger than he.

Everyone in the bar was staring, and Johnathan found his hands slipping
helplessly down Susan's arms, until they cupped her bulging biceps. Even
though only partly flexed, they were inhumanly solid. And so wonderfully
shapely and large. In fact, as he contemplated her surprising strength they
seemed to be growing larger in his hands. Once again he could hear seams
tearing, but he wasn't sure if it was Susan's blouse or her skirt.

"Oh...Susan...," he groaned, "how did you ... what are you, why are you..."

She stepped away from him, smiling proudly, but he was surprised to see that
she now seemed taller than he, and her musculature seemed even MORE developed
than before. He suddenly felt intimidated when he looked at her arms and
shoulders.

"I can't believe I'm so attracted to you, Johnathan, I normally go for men who
are really tall, not who are shorter than me! What, are you 5'4" or so?"

"Uh, no. I'm 5'9"!"

"But..what? That's not possible! I'm only 5'5"!"

Belatedly, Johnathan realized what was happening: "Oh, no! I'm doing this!
She's becoming even taller and stronger!" As he faced this frightening
realization, Susan took a deep breath, causing her swollen breasts to rip
through what remained of her blouse.

Every man in the bar began cheering, but Johnathan hardly noticed. His
attention was firmly fixed on Susan's bountiful bosom, which popped out of her
blouse as though it were on springs. As he watched, her already over-generous
breasts began growing even more! Susan made an effort to cover herself,
crossing her arms over her chest. Her swollen, untensed biceps easily covered
her nipples, but her breasts continued to swell.

Johnathan turned and ran, flying out the door of the bar as fast as he could.
After a few seconds, he could hear loud footfalls behind him, gaining. Looking
back over his shoulder, he could see Susan chasing him, her large, powerful
legs propelling her at far greater speed than he was capable of. As he turned
around to check on her, he noticed that her enormous, naked breasts were
bouncing up and down wildly, like two extra arms chasing him. Too late, he
turned his head back to see where he was going and ...

WHAM! He slammed into a light-post, face first.

Johnathan remained conscious as he fell to the ground, though his vision was
all spotty. Susan quickly reached him and lifted him, holding him and cradling
his head on her breast. "Why did you run from me? Don't you know I love you?"

He gazed up at her, amazed again at her size and strength. She held him at
arms' length as if he weighed nothing and continued, "How could you think you
could out-run me? Compared to me you're so small and weak." He did feel small
and weak in her arms, which seemed now to have boundless strength. She looked
at him more closely. "You said you were 5'9"?!! Are you kidding? You're light
as a feather. You must have no muscle at all then. Yes, that's it, your
muscles must be really soft, and small, so weak and adorable --just like a
little girl's! Now don't you worry, so you don't bump into anything again I'll
carry your helpless little body in my big, strong arms home to my place."

Disoriented and drunk, Johnathan found himself believing her. "I must really
be a weakling," he began to think. Horrified, he could see the muscles of his
body becoming smaller and softer by the second. Craning his head, he looked
down at his upper arm and flexed it. The biceps that rose up were pathetically
underdeveloped. "They're so..PUNY!" he thought, and watched as the tiny little
thing sunk away into nothing, becoming too small and soft even to flex.

What little strength was left in his body was slowly leaching away as he
convinced himself of his own weakness. And soon he really was as weak as a
little girl. Soon, the feeling of weakness, the tumultuous day, the effect of
alcohol on him after his long abstinence and the comfortable feeling of being
caressed and carried conspired together, and Johnathan dropped off to sleep.

When Johnathan awoke it was almost nine. He rolled over, as if it had all been
a dream, but then became aware of a thudding pain in his forehead. "Owwww," he
groaned. Still hoping for a return to reality, Johnathan reached across his
chest, hoping to find the toned, solid arm of a 26 year-old man. Instead he
found a soft little pipestem of an arm.

He got out of the strange bed and looked himself up and down in the
full-length mirror on the back of the door. "Pathetic," he thought, "How can I
go to work like this?" He walked over to two 15-lb. weights that were sitting
at the foot of the bed, grabbed one in each arm, and lifted. He was just
barely able to straighten his legs with the two dumbells in his hands -- he
couldn't even begin to curl them or lift them with his shriveled arms. Worse,
his head was clear, and he'd need a few beers before he could even try to fix
things.

Just then Susan came through the door. "My GOD," he thought, "she's immense!!"
Susan had a large cardboard box, and she was clearly proud of her ability to
carry it. She slowly set it down on the ground, and Johnathan could see that
it was a new weight set.

"You can have those fifteen-pounders, Johnathan," she said, "although they
look like they're too heavy for you! I just went out and bought a new set of
dumbells and weights. "Can you believe this box weighs almost 400 pounds? It
sure doesn't feel that heavy." She pulled out a massive hunk of metal and
began curling it, "75 pounds," she smiled. "Too light."

She sidled over to him, and he was amazed to see that he was just about
looking eye to eye with the bottom of her breasts. She pulled off the
sweatshirt that had left her navel exposed, and revealed her
almost-supernaturally large and firm tits. "Do you know, Johnathan, I think I
was only 5'5" and a 'C' cup yesterday this time? I can't imagine what happened
to me."

"You grew, and I shrunk," he said, "I was a normal, fairly muscular man
yesterday, now I'm a complete wimp!"

"A very handsome wimp," she smiled, reaching down and picking him up like an
infant.

"I must've made her really stupid, too. Doesn't she realize this is
impossible? Why is none of this sinking in?" he thought. She pressed him into
her enormous, pumpkin-sized breasts, and Johnathan was quite pleased to see
that not everything had shrunk, as his penis suddenly reared up to its
original erect size.

"Mmmmmm...", Susan said, "that's a whole lot of dick for such a little man."
She tucked him under her left arm, and used her right to clear the bedding
away. Still holding him, she rolled onto her back and grabbed Johnathan around
the waist with each of her hands. His penis was volcanically erect, and she
began playing it around the edge of her vagina, as if she were masturbating
herself with a dildo.

Johnathan kept reaching for her massive, creamy breasts, but he scarcely was
able to hold them with his weakened arms. Instead he grabbed at her forearms,
captivated by the vascular bulges and ridges that cascaded down to her elbow.

"You like those?" she asked, smiling. She put him down astride her abdomen,
and he leaned into her bosom, pressing his head into the cleavage of her
breasts as he fondled her incredibly muscular arms. Prone on her belly, he was
just barely able to insert his penis into her. She forced him in, and he
delighted in feeling her muscles tense and loosen as she lifted and pressed
him in and out of her.

Susan was moaning, "Oh, keep touching my muscles, Johnathan. I've gotten
sooo..... STRONG," she growled, "and it makes me feel even stronger to be with
a man who is so weak."

He kept pushing in and out, up and down. His feet were resting on the inside
of her knees, her legs spread apart for his member's assault. Her enormous
breasts, each larger than his head, rocked and gyrated directly in front of
his face. Occasionally he would slide forward and stroke the inside of her
cleavage with his head and pencil-thin neck.

Susan had her arms bent, fists clenched, and rhythmically flexed her biceps in
tune with Johnathan's rise and fall. She seemed as stimulated by the rising
and hardening of her own muscles as by her partner's stimulation of her
nether- regions.

As she climaxed, she took her left hand and pushed Johnathan's middle up
against herself, even as with her right she easily crushed his head against
her breasts, despite his trying with all his strength to stay up. He couldn't
quite breathe as she clutched his body closer to her and struggled for some
space and some air.

"Ahh!" she screamed, "Ahhhh!" Her voice thundered in his ears. Finally her
grip relaxed and he lay on top of her, playing with her breasts and watching
her flex her muscles with delight.

"Ooooh, that was great! Let's do it again!" She held him in the air and
watched with delight as he strained to reach her breasts, then lowered him
slowly on top of her.

"Wait, Susan! I'm not ready!"

She wrinkled her nose, then sighed and stood up, still holding him. "OK, my
little toy man. I wanted a drink anyway." She carried him to the kitchen and
took out a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator. "You first!"

Johnathan held up his hands. "I don't think it's such a good idea," he
protested. "I have to go to an appointment for work, and I get --

"Oh, you were so adorable last night when you were drunk! Here! It's good for
you!" She brushed aside his arms and stuck the bottle into his mouth. The wine
cascaded down his throat, and being cold he hardly tasted it. He must have
gulped down two and a half glasses before she removed it, put him down on the
floor and finished off the rest without taking a breath. "Wow, that felt like
nothing to me, but it must be a lot for you. I bet you get drunk a lot quicker
than me, since you're so small."

He stared stupidly ahead. He already felt woozy, although at least his
hangover was just about gone. She was right. Maybe she was smarter than he
thought. He looked into her eyes. They were so beautiful, and, he realized,
very intelligent-looking.

"You're kind of an odd guy, aren't you, Johnathan?" she asked, still looking
at him intently. "What do you do?"

Jonathan looked up at her, her massive bosom, just inches from his face,
making it hard to focus on her words. "I ... I'm an accountant," he replied,
staring at the mound of tit.

She stared down at him. "Oh I LOVE accountants." She looked a little puzzled.
"I don't know why, but I do, especially you. And you, you like strong girls,
don't you? Strong girls with big breasts. That's why you like me, right?"

His eyes shifted from her breast to her biceps, which were softball-sized,
even unflexed. "Um, yeah, well ... I"

"You're so cute! My body makes you all tongue-tied, doesn't it?" His head was
spinning from the wine. "Wh-what do you mean?" he answered, feeling even more
unsure of himself than usual. She was right again. It was scary how well she
seemed to know him and how easily she dominated him, especially when he was
drunk. He felt like his willpower was dissipating just as quickly as his
muscle had yesterday.

"Oh, don't worry about it! I just think you are the cutest thing, and any
reason you like me is great. I just want to you want me more and more. Don't
you?"

He gazed up at her again. It was impossible not to want her. He put his arms
around her, but her chest so broad and muscular that he was able only to reach
to her shoulder blades. He wanted to hold her closer, but succeeded only in
pressing himself against her huge bust. The rest of her was solid muscle, with
absolutely no give. She put an arm around him and he cried out, like a baby's
squeeze toy, from the force of her hug.

"Oh that's so sweet! I just love the contrast in our bodies. It makes me feel
so incredibly powerful, like a Supergirl. Do you know what I mean?"

He knew exactly what she meant. Already she had more power in the one arm
wrapped around him than he had in his whole body. Just thinking about her
overwhelming strength was making him more and more aroused. In the back of his
mind, a small voice was telling him to change everything back while he had the
chance. He tried to imagine himself strong again and to visualize Susan as she
was when he first met her, but with his head pushing against her gigantic
breast it was impossible to control his thoughts. He tried to distract
himself, to play a chess game in his head, do his tax return or review the
fingering for his piano recital piece, fifteen years ago. But then Susan
flexed the biceps of the arm holding him, the surge in size and hardness of
that gargantuan muscle pushing his shoulder more deeply into her bosom. How
could that tiny voice compete with Susan's powerful sensuality? She lifted him
again to her lips and kissed him deeply, her tongue pressing into his mouth,
filling it, as his erect member pressed against her hard abdomen. "Oh," he
thought, clinging to her even more emphatically, "she really is a Supergirl,"
and then suddenly he blacked out.

When he came to, he was lying down on Susan's bed in a darkened room. He
picked up his head slightly, and immediately she burst through the door,
hovering over him.

"Oh Johnathan, I was so worried! I thought I'd killed you!"

Johnathan struggled to prop himself up, but the combination of his weakened
muscles and a stabbing pain in his back and shoulders made it impossible.
Susan looked even more beautiful than ever, only her look of panic at his
state of health marring her perfect features. She gently lifted him and held
him, feathering his face with the slightest of kisses. He turned to face her
and groaned in pain.

"No! Don't move, Johnathan. You're injured! A couple of your ribs are broken."

He winced and closed his eyes. "What happened? Did you crush me or something?"
He looked up at her face. Her skin was radiant, and flawless.

Susan burst out crying. "Oh, I didn't mean to! I just don't know my own
strength sometimes. Please don't hate me!" Her tears flooded, dripping down
her face and onto Johnathan, who painfully brushed them off his cheek and then
touched her face lightly. "Oh, you're such a sweetie!"

"Yeah, well, these things happen. Um, how long was I --

"Almost ten hours!"

Johnathan nodded and put his hand over his forehead. "Yeah, my head's killing
me again."

Susan nodded sympathetically. "I know. It's all that wine I gave you. I'm
sorry about that too."

"Hey, don't keep apologizing. You don't have to." Susan's face brightened.
Johnathan was thinking to himself. "Damn! I'm in total agony, and there's only
one way to fix it." He continued, out loud, "Come on, I'll be better before
you know it. But what I really need now is a drink."

A flicker of concern danced across Susan's face. "I-I'm not so sure that's a
good idea. You know, you've had a lot to drink lately. It might not be so good
for you."

"Yeah, yeah I know. But," he smiled, "you know, whatever it takes." He
motioned to Susan to put him down and she did, slowly depositing him on the
floor. He stood unsteadily, his weak legs barely holding even his reduced
weight, while the effort of standing straight was torture to his injured ribs.
He looked over at her. She seemed different somehow, like she was standing
even more erect than before. "So, aren't you going to offer me a drink? To
ease the pain?"

She looked pained and her brow wrinkled. "Uh, no Johnathan. I, uh, I'm not. I
really can't."

He looked up at her. God, she looked magnificent. She was more than half a
foot taller than he. Her breasts pushed out from her chest so boldly, and her
muscles seemed to be chiseled out of solid marble. But why was she acting so
funny? "Uh, you mean, you drank the last of it?"

She cleared her throat. "No. It's just ... I don't think you should drink."

He gave her an odd look. Who did she think she was? True, he had all of the
musculature of a ten year old girl while she looked like she could punch a
hole through the wall, but since when could a 19 year old barmaid tell him he
couldn't have a drink? He struggled inside. It was difficult to argue with
her, then he remembered the last time he'd been drunk. Was he becoming a mouse
mentally as well? Well, he'd try and fix that, once he got drunk enough. Then
he'd show her.

"Yeah, well, I appreciate it, but I think I can decide that for myself." He
tried to stand straighter to look her in the eye, but the pain made it almost
impossible and she was so initimidatingly large.

"Oh Johnathan, don't hurt yourself! I can't bear it!" Her hands fluttered. She
seemed at a loss, not knowing what to do or say. He couldn't help but stare at
the furious pumping of her enormous biceps as she waved her hands around.

His own hands were shaking as he spoke. "Susan, calm down. I'll be all right.
I-I just need a drink or two to dull the pain. I'll be fine. OK? Just fix us
both something so we can relax. Do you have any whiskey? That'll do the trick.
It won't take much for me." He smiled, motioning to his slight frame.

Susan looked very uncomfortable. "Johnathan. Please listen to me. It's too
dangerous. I'd worry. You have to promise me you'll never drink again."

Johnathan couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Hey, you served me three
beers yesterday and stuffed a bottle of wine into my mouth last night. Now
you're telling me I shouldn't drink?!" He was shouting.

"PLEASE don't be mad at me. It's for your own good. Look how you got hurt."

He screwed up his courage. "That was from running away from you, the first
time. And the second was when you squeezed me too hard. Maybe it's YOU I
should stay away from!"

She burst into tears again. "Don't say that! You know I love you." She covered
her face with her hands as she wailed.

Johnathan hated that. He really couldn't bear to upset her or make her mad at
him. "Susan. Susan." He reached up to take her hand, trying to pull them down
so he could look at her, but hard as he tried he couldn't budge them an inch.
God, what a behemoth he'd created. He'd really gone too far this time. And he
was so pitifully weak! "SUSAN!!" he shouted. She lowered her hands. "Susan,
listen to me. I love you too. OK? I just need a drink that's all. If you won't
give it to me, I'll go out and have one, and then when I'm feeling better I'll
come back and we can talk, ok?"

"I can't let you go do that!" she wailed.

"Susan, I'll come back. I promise."

"Nooo. You'll get drunk again."

"Hey, come on, I'm not that awful when I drink. I just won't hurt as much."

She shook her head, trying to recover her composure. "No. I can't let you."
She crossed her formidable arms in front of her and stood in front of the
door. "You have to promise me."

"This is ridiculous. Let me go." She stood, immobile. He grabbed at her arms
and tried to pull her, then push her aside, but he had no more success than if
he had pushed a redwood. "You can't keep me here!"

"I have to. It's too dangerous," she repeated. "I can't believe you won't
listen! It's because I LOVE you!"

"Susan," he said in measured tones. "Please step aside. I am a grown man. I
make my own decisions." She looked undecided for a moment, then concerned,
then, lips quivering, shook her head again. "OK, OK, I promise. I won't get
drunk. I'll ... I'll just go home, get some things, maybe have ONE drink to
relax me. Then I'll come back later, ok? Is that good enough?"

She looked him in the eye, then, satisfied, nodded. "Ok. I mean, I trust you
Johnathan, of course I do. I just don't want anything bad to happen. You
understand, don't you? I really, really love you!"

"I love you too, Susan," he echoed. He walked slowly out of the room and out
of the apartment, waved to her from the street and carefully stepped into a
taxi, driving back from Queens to his apartment in Brooklyn Heights. The pain
during the drive down the potholed street nearly killed him, and even a hot
shower didn't help. There was only one thing to do. Of course as a result of
his long period of abstinence his tiny apartment was completely alcohol-free,
so he went to a nearby bar and found a private corner. He quickly ordered a
double vodka, which he figured would be the quickest route to the type of
oblivion he needed. He settled into a dark haze, matching the dim, dirty state
of the bar, and pictured (as clearly as his muddled brain would permit) the
body he'd had before he'd met Susan, decently-muscled, healthy, ribs intact.
He felt his pain leave him and let out a deep sigh. Now, he had to something
about Susan, he thought. She had gotten too attached to him. Yes. She was much
too clingy. He thought of her as cool and detached. Yes, she really shouldn't
be in love with him like that. He didn't need that at all. And then last, but
not least, she was much too -- he suddenly looked up ... and up. She was
standing in front of him, dressed in a dark blue skintight lycra suit which
extended only to her elbows and knees. Her formidable arms were perched on her
hips. She did not look happy.

"WHAT are you DOING?"

"Uh, Susan? How did you --

"You PROMISED!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but --

"Come with me!" She took his hand and wrenched him out of his seat. "Tip the
waitress!" He looked up at her and put a crumpled dollar bill on the table.
"Another one! Good. Let's go."

"Wh-where?"

"Back to your apartment. WE are going to have a little chat." She frog-marched
him down the street. He unlocked the door and they climbed the stairs to his
attic room, Susan practically flying up the stairs while Johnathan staggered a
flight behind.

"I should have KNOWN I couldn't trust you not to drink!" she said angrily when
they entered the room.

"Susan! What's the big deal? Nothing's happened." He smiled at her. "And I'm
feeling much better. So you don't have to worry anymore about having hurt me."

Susan looked down at him sternly. "That ISN'T what is worrying me." She looked
around the apartment, then pulled Johnathan to the corner that served as a
galley kitchen, opened a cabinet and grabbed a jar of instant coffee. "This
will sober you up," she said to herself, taking a mug and filling it a third
of the way with the granules. She filled the rest with water and handed it to
Johnathan. "Drink this, now." He just stared at her. "Do I have to force you?"
she added, looming over him.

"OK, OK." He took it and grimaced. "It's too strong!"

"Just finish it."

He closed his eyes and drank. The caffeine was making his heart pound, but
otherwise he was quickly returning to his usual modestly alert self. "There.
Jesus, Susan! What has gotten into you? You're being so unfriendly all of a
sudden. I thought you said you loved me."

"I must have been out of my mind. How could I love a twerp like you?" She
looked disgusted with him, and herself.

"But ...." Then Johnathan remembered what he'd done to her feelings for him.
"Yeah, right, sure. OK. Well, nice while it lasted I guess. Hey, if you aren't
interested in my anymore, what are you doing here? You came all the way here
just to tell me you don't like me?"

"YOU know why I'm here. I have to decide what to DO about you." She put her
hands on her hips and took a half step toward him.

Something about her stance started frightening Johnathan a little. "Wh-what do
you mean?"

"You can't be trusted to act responsibly and you're a danger to everyone on
earth. I can't allow it."

"Hey, wait a minute. Who appointed YOU to take care of the world?"

Her lip curled slightly. "YOU did."

"I did? Hey, I may have been a little drunk, but I think I would have
remembered that." His head was beginning to pound. "Look, I have to lie down.
Why don't you just leave now, ok?"

"You know that doesn't take care of the problem."

Johnathan felt completely exasperated. "Look, just get out, ok? Go back to
your bar, or lift some weights or something." She just crossed her arms in
front of her and looked down at him, contemplating him. "Well, what are you
waiting for?"

She looked at him impassively. "I'm trying to decide whether I really have to
kill you."

"Kill me? Are you crazy?" He stared at her. She wasn't joking, and with her
enormous strength, she could do it easily. Even though he had restored his
previous strength she was still half a foot taller than he, with 26" rock-hard
biceps and those stupid "dense" muscles! Oh where did he ever come up with
that one? He had no idea how strong she could be, and he didn't want to find
out at first hand. How could he ever defend himself? He thought of the fire
escape and turned around to open the window and jump through it. But before he
bolted the five feet to the window she was already in front of it, her massive
frame completely blocking his access. He turned back to the door and sprung
for it, but somehow she got in front of him again. This time he kept going,
his shoulder colliding directly with the point below her breasts, but she was
solid as a tree and he succeeded only in wrenching his shoulder.

"Aaggh!" he cried repeatedly, staggering around the room, once again in pain.
Susan looked down on him with bored condescension.

Johnathan was not dancing around randomly; he was looking for his one last
chance to save himself and then saw it, his old baseball bat. He was desperate
now. If he had to break her bones in two, he would. He grabbed it and charged
her again, timing his swing while reliving his greatest little league
save-the-game moment, but using the sharp curve of her hip bone as his target.
Seemingly caught flat-footed in surprise at his sudden move, she made no
effort to stop him and he connected solidly, his follow-through amply aided by
the sudden two-thirds reduction in the length of the bat as the wood broke
neatly in two pieces, one in Johnathan's right hand providing a nominal
counterweight as he spun out of control onto his sofabed, the other in Susan's
lightening quick left hand. When he turned back to her in disbelief, she
curled her large fingers around the thickest part of the wood and squeezed
once, creating a momentary bulge in her biceps while obliterating the name
"Darryl Strawberry" from the relic as the bat fragment assumed an unsuitable
hourglass shape. Dropping the bat on the floor, she extended her arms and
tensed her muscles more completely, enjoying Johnathan's frightened reaction
to her 31" biceps, her cannonball shoulders, the breasts that pushed ever
further outward atop her cascading set of pectorals, and abdominals that had
more ripples than a hurricane-tossed sea.

"H-h-how can you be s-s-o --" Johnathan stuttered.

"You should know, Johnathan. You're the one who made me this way."

"Th-th-then you KNOW about that -- but how d-d-did you -- n-n-no one else has
ever --

She sighed, bored. "You still don't get it, do you? You don't even know what
you've done." She bent down and picked up the four foot long iron crowbar
Johnathan used to secure the door. She threaded it through the three middle
fingers of her right hand and instantly bent it back on itself, then slid her
hands down to the ends and twisted them into a braid, bending one end upwards
to the left. She held it up for him to see. "Looks just like the beginning of
'Johnathan' now, doesn't it?" Finally, she put the straight end into her mouth
and started chewing, rapidly sucking more inside and devouring the twisted
metal like a piece of spaghetti. She frowned. "Got something stuck in my
teeth." She moved her tongue around and slowly pushed a six inch metal spike
out of her mouth, then spit it across the room, the spike missing Johnathan by
no more than a hair and embedding itself in the center of the letter "J" on
his computer keyboard. Then she licked her lips and patted her stomach, which
was completely unchanged in size and shape. "Yum yum, although I usually
prefer it a little more 'al dente'." She raised her eyebrows, looked directly
at him and gave him an open-mouthed smile. "Now for you. Where should I
start?"

"AAGGHH!!" He closed his eyes, shaking with fear, trying to summon up his
power.

The super-empowered girl laughed. "You can't do it, Johnathan. With all that
caffeine you're as sober as can be. It'll be a couple of hours before it wears
off." She floated into the air and pretended to do the breast stroke as she
drifted over to him, laying on her side in mid-air opposite him as he lay on
the sofabed in disbelief. She reached out to pick up the sofabed and lifted
it, rising to the ceiling with her arm hooked underneath, then tipped it so
that Johnathan rolled off into her waiting arm. He pushed against her. "Don't
be stupid. Your strength against mine is as little as that of a flea!"

"Please, please!" he begged. "I'll never drink again. You can watch me. Spy on
me all you want. Just please don't kill me!"

She settled down lazily onto the floor, replacing the sofabed, but keeping a
tight grip on Johnathan. "I'll think about it." She pushed him away, walked
over to the window, pushed it open and flew out, disappearing into the sky.

Johnathan collapsed onto the sofabed, still shaking, then got up to look out
the window, hoping somehow to see her smashed body three floors below on the
pavement. But there was nothing. She had really flown out of the room, just
like Supergirl.

Johnathan trembled slightly, then staggered around the apartment before
collapsing onto the couch and slept fitfully for the next fourteen hours.

CHAPTER 3 -- In Therapy Again

Even though he had not visited the counselor, Johnathan decided the best place
for him was back at the office, where he could at least pretend that he led a
normal life. That strategy worked for at least seven minutes, until he could
no longer ignore the chorus of voices from Rebecca's cubicle next to his
remarking on the latest news development as they crowded around Rebecca's
computer.

"Look at the pictures of that chick on THIS site! She's got muscles like
Schwarzenegger!"

"Yeah, but when's the last time you saw a bodybuilder fly!"

"Can you imagine what it would feel like to get your cock in her? She'd be so
tight she'd grind it until there was nothing left!"

"How would you be able to TELL, Howie?"

"Guys! Excuse me!" Rebecca said, for propriety's sake, as she shrieked with
laughter. The rest of them roared too, except Howie, until Charles Simic, who
had just joined the the department from internal audit, joined the crowd.

He cleared his throat authoritatively. "I can't believe you fellows are
falling for this. It's a hoax, a put up job. Wake up, lads, this is real life,
not a comic book! Girls don't fly and they don't have the strength to throw
cars into orbit. Grow up!"

"Yeah, whatever you say, Charles."

"Just wait. In a week you'll find out that somebody like George Lucas was in
on it, like that movie, 'Wag the Dog.'"

"Charles, you are so full of shit. Wag the Dog! What a piece of crap."

Johnathan cleared his throat and said from his desk, "Uh, it's a real movie."
Shit, he thought, why did I say that?

A head popped over the wall. It was Charles. "Thank you, Johnathan. At least
somebody in this department has a brain."

Even Johnathan knew that the last friend he wanted was Charles. "Uh, yeah. But
she's real," he added quickly. "I know it."

The jabbering started again. "Ha-ha! Johnathan says she's real."

"That doesn't prove anything. I happen to know that Johnathan here is half --

"What is going on here?" belowed Mr. Johnson, my boss and everyone else's.
"Have you all forgotten our policy on personal use of the Internet? I'll clear
out the lot of you!"

The group scattered quickly, then he loomed at the entrance to Johnathan's
cubicle. "Johnathan, I want to see you in my office!"

Johnathan followed him meekly. When he entered the large corner office, Shona
Williams from HR was waiting. Johnathan wondered if he was about to be fired.
Mr. Johnson smiled paternally and motioned for him to sit down.

"Now, Johnathan, I'm glad to see you showed enough judgment not to be mixed up
with that Supergirl nonsense."

Johnathan could see her practicing her loops around the Brooklyn Bridge, but
chose not to say anything. It didn't sound to him as though he was about to
lose his job.

"You missed your appointment yesterday. Do you have an explanation for me?"

Johnathan thought hard. Choosing his words carefully, he replied, "Um, no
sir."

"I see. Well, Shona, would you explain the program to Johnathan."

She cleared her throat, while Johnathan tried not to admire her firm bustline
and muscular legs. "Participation in the Midtown Stress Reduction Counseling
Center is of course entirely voluntary and confidential. The counselors are
trained to provide short term assistance with problems that may affect your
performance on the job. All fees will be paid by the company for the first
five sessions each year, with additional sessions covered at our discretion,
subject to a review of your treatment plan."

"Y-you think I need treatment?"

She smoothed her blouse, which was fighting a losing battle with the eruptions
of flesh underneath. "Well, that is not up to the firm. The firm offers this
service as an alternative to disciplinary measures for inappropriate behavior.
If you refuse to attend, we would be forced to evaluate your conduct in terms
of the usual norms. The first step would be a warning, then we would move to a
...."

"We don't have to go into that part now, Shona. Johnathan, your father and I
were in school together. I told him I would take care of you here. For Christ
sake please help me and yourself and go to the clinic." Johnathan nodded.
"Good." He stood up. "Shona will go over the arrangements with you. I have a
meeting."

Shona sighed as she and Johnathan walked down the hall. "We've had to make
your appointment with a new therapist for 11:00 this morning. I have a consent
form for you to sign." She pushed it against the wall and Johnathan signed it.
"Good. Her name is Esre Wax. Be on time."

An hour later, Johnathan was sitting in a comfortable chair opposite a petite
young woman. Obviously she was just out of school and new to the organization,
since she had been given an ugly office two floors below street level with
nothing in it but a coat stand and an ugly metal desk, and she had not even
posted her qualifications on the wall. She was attractive, and if Johnathan
had not been so nervous, he would have thought that she was overpoweringly
cute. Her lustrous, dark hair was cut short, she had a small nose and
freckles, and her only detracting characteristic was some discoloration on the
back of her neck, which she kept mostly covered with her collar. She made up
for her lack of height by sitting in a chair raised well off the ground so
that she looked down at Johnathan.

"Well, Johnathan," she began in a high-pitched but pleasant voice, "what seems
to be worrying you?"

Johnathan smiled nervously. He hadn't actually decided what he would tell her,
and said nothing, contemplating her stature and wondering what exactly he
should do.

"Come on, Johnathan," she said invitingly. "You're not intimidated by talking
to me, are you?"

"Um, no," he stammered. "I'm just ... embarrassed ... to be here." He sighed.

"Well, you know, everything you tell me is just between you and me, so nothing
can happen to you. You can just talk. And I promise I won't bite." She smiled
invitingly, showing her pretty white teeth and looked down at the file on him,
which was surprisingly thick considering it was his first appointment. He
guessed the firm knew quite a lot about him, and now so did she. "You're not
really afraid of frogs, are you?" she asked encouragingly.

Johnathan shook his head nervously. Her teeth looked sharp. "No. Well, maybe a
little. Big ones, at least."

"Big frogs?" Johnathan nodded. She wrinkled her nose. "They would be ugly,
wouldn't they? But did you think that one was real, and not just a woman in a
costume?"

"Yes, well, it could have been real."

"Do you think so?" she asked, sounding interested.

Something about her earnestness made Johnathan feel he could trust her. "Yes,
well ...."

"You know the difference between reality and fantasy, right Johnathan? Now I'm
real, you're real, right? My office is real. Batman is not real, and

"Supergirl is real," Johnathan added, trying to be helpful.

She bit her lip. "Hmmph. You got me! I thought she wasn't real. But I suppose
maybe she is, and maybe there are giant frogs too. Is that what you're telling
me?" Johnathan nodded. "But have you ever seen a real giant frog?"

"No," he agreed. "But that doesn't mean there could never be giant frogs," he
added carefully. "Just like there never used to be a Supergirl, but now there
is."

She laughed. "That's very logical. I guess if a giant frog came around one
day, we'd all have to admit they exist. But, until they do ... do you like
believing in giant frogs?"

"Not particularly."

"Well, I think I can help you be less afraid of giant frogs -- until they are
real. Have you ever been hynotized?" Johnathan shook his head. "My guess is
you'll be a great subject."

"Y-you think I'm, uh, suggestible?"

Esre smiled. "It's just a sense I have that it will work. I'm a very good
hypnotist, and I believe it can be very effective in these types of
situations." Johnathan nodded. "Do you have any other questions?"

"Um, shouldn't I ask about your qualifications?"

"Oh, you mean because I'm so young? Well, you're not my first patient. I've
had plenty of practice in school."

"Um, and where was that?"

"The Hoboken School of Hypnotherapy."

"Oh. That sounds good. And uh, are there any side effects?"

"Well, that depends. This is all about post-hypnotic suggestion. I'm going to
try to alleviate your fears, so naturally I will plant some suggestions in
your mind that will affect you after the hynosis is done."

"You mean, I won't be afraid of ... giant frogs?"

"That's the general point."

Johnathan stood up. "I'm not so sure this is a good idea."

She stayed seated. "Why not?" she asked calmly.

"Maybe it's, uh, good to be a little frightened sometimes."

Esre smiled patiently. "Yes? Why?"

"Um, like not going in a lion's cage."

"So, you believe that being afraid of giant frogs helps keep them away from
you?" Johnathan nodded. "How?"

Now he felt boxed in. He could just get up now and leave, but then he'd get in
trouble with Mr. Johnson. He could mumble something meaningless and let her
hynotize him, but what if he was no longer afraid of changing things? He might
do something horrible again, or maybe just get drunk and get killed by
Supergirl. Or maybe he could tell the truth. Maybe ....

"Well, let's just suppose for a minute that I could make a giant frog. Then if
I weren't afraid of them anymore, I might just make one. And then ....."

She looked at him, thinking. "So how would you do that?"

"Yeah, um, well, if I, uh, get drunk enough, and relax, my mind, um, just
makes things up and they um become ...."

"Real? I see. Well, that would be very unusual, don't you think? Why don't you
show me?"

"Oh no! I wouldn't dare!"

"Why not?"

"Well ... anything could happen. I can't exactly control it."

"I could hynotize you. I could control it. Just tell me how you do it."

"I can't really describe it. It's not like I have to want it to be real. I
sort of envision it as real and then start believing it, and then suddenly,
well, there it is."

"I see. Almost as though you hynotise yourself into believing it." Johnathan
stared blankly at her. "That's all right then. Well?"

Johnathan was amazed at her nonchalance. He supposed they taught that at
therapy school. "Yeah, um well there's another thing. You see, Supergirl said
she'd kill me if I ever drank alcohol."

"Really?" Esre looked around. "Why?"

"I think she doesn't want me changing her again. She likes being Supergirl and
--

"You mean, you're telling me that YOU made Supergirl?"

Johnathan smiled sheepishly. "Uh, yeah. Yesterday."

Esre look alarmed and read her summary page in the file. "I don't know. The
short treatment course may not ...." She cocked her head. "On the other hand
...." She raised her eyebrows, then her eyes. Then she laughed. "It's
perfect!"

"What?"

"Oh. Uh, this stupid office. See that design up there? It's a lead ceiling. If
you did it right, she can't see us, because she can't see through lead. You
knew that didn't you?"

"Yes. Everybody knows that. If you read comic books. So, you believe me?" he
added incredulously.

She crossed her arms in front of her. "To be absolutely honest, no." Her eyes
twinkled. "But what's important is you believe it. Right?"

He sighed. Maybe that was best. "I don't know. But I'm still frightened about
getting drunk. What about when I leave?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not really going to make you drunk. When you're
hynotized, I'll tell you you're drunk, and you'll start acting that way. When
I wake you up, you'll be completely sober again. Nothing will happen.
Supergirl will never know."

"I guess that makes sense. What else will you do?"

"It depends on how you react, but generally I'll use a post-hypnotic
suggestion for you not to change things anymore. So if you see any more giant
frogs, you'll know they're not real and that they can't become real."

"Oh. That sounds sensible."

"Good! Are you ready?"

"I guess."

Esre reached forward and touched a button on the arm of Johnathan's chair, and
the back went down halfway. Not liking to stand up, she pushed her chair to
the wall and dimmed the lights, then scooted back to him. She took a small
pendant from her sleeve and let it swing before Johnathan. It took only two
minutes before he was in a deep trance.

"Wow! You ARE easy!" she said, mostly to herself.

"I'm easy," he said softly, agreeing.

"Johnathan. You know who I am? Do you recognize my voice?"

"Yes. You are Esre Wax."

"Good. I am your therapist. You know I am here to help you. I'm going to make
some suggestions to you. What I tell you to do will be very good for you. Is
that right?"

"Yes. You will help me."

"I certainly will. And when I tell you to do something, you will want to do
it. It will make you happy to do it for me. When you complete a task I give
you, you will feel relaxed, happy, and secure. Do you know what that feels
like?"

"Yes."

"Good, Johnathan. Now, the first thing I want you to do is to feel happy and
secure. Can you do that for me?"

Johnathan nodded. A smile spread over his face and he slumped down in the
chair slightly.

"How do you feel?"

"I'm very happy and secure. You are doing good things for me."

"Yes, Johnathan, I am. Now, have you ever drunk whiskey Johnathan? I have a
glass here of whiskey, neat. It is the very best whiskey you will ever taste,
very smooth. I'd like you drink it for me. You will enjoy it, although it will
make you a little drunk. But it's all right to be a little drunk, because you
are safe here with me. Here it is, Johnathan. Drink it slowly so you enjoy
it."

He took the glass, which was empty and slowly drank from it. He smiled broadly
and settled even further into his chair, coughing once or twice. When he
finished he handed the glass back to her.

"Did you enjoy it, Johnathan?"

"Yes, I did. Very much," he said, his speech slurred. "I think I am a little
drunk now."

"Yes, I know. That's very good, Johnathan. Now listen carefully. You have a
wonderful imagination, but while you are hynotized I want you to use it only
as I tell you. Unless I tell you, you must keep your mind blank. Can you do
that for me?"

"Yes I can. I like doing things for you."

"Good. Johnathan, you told me before that you can make things by thinking
about them. I am going to ask you to demonstrate that for me. Can you make a
small statue of a frog for me, on my desk, about four inches high?"

Johnathan looked puzzled. "What should I make it out of?" he asked.

Esre looked at him, thinking. "Um, what I mean is, Johnathan, if you look at
my desk, really hard, you can see a frog there. Can you see it?"

Johnathan looked over, his puzzlement gradually diminishing. "I think so."

"It really is there, Johnathan. You do believe me, right?"

He nodded. "Yes. It is there. You were right." He smiled innocently.

Esre looked at her desk. To her shock, there stood a wooden frog, roughly
carved, about four inches high. It looked like something an amateur might have
made in wood shop. She picked it up. It was as solid as could be. "Wow!" she
exclaimed. Her hands started shaking. She started to stand up, then sat back
down in the chair. "Ohmygod! Ohmygod!" she said softly. Her hands fluttered
and she bit her lip, then sat in the chair, her hands gripping each other on
top of her lap.

Her voice trembled. "J-J-Jonathan, you know, what you did was, uh, very
special. You made that frog. It wasn't there before. You realize that?" Her
voice sailed into a very high pitch and she grimaced when she heard it. She
hated her high voice. It sounded so small.

Johnathan agreed. "Yes. I made it. I know."

"And d-d-do you know how you made it?" There, she was getting back in control.

"No. Yes. I just ... make it happen."

"Do you know how you feel when you make something like that? Like the frog?"

He said very quietly. "Yes."

"Good. Then you can make something whenever I tell you to?"

"Yes. I can do that."

"Johnathan, do you know my voice now? Do you recognize it?"

"Yes."

"Listen to it very carefully. I want you always to recognize my voice."

"I can do that," he said, smiling.

"It does make you very happy to hear my voice."

"Yes. It does."

"And you trust me."

"Yes, I trust you," he said, smiling.

"Good, Johnathan."

"Now, we are going to solve the problem you have been worrying about. From now
on, unless I, Esre Wax, tell you to make something in the same way as you made
the frog, you will not do it. Even if you are drunk you will not do it.
Whether you want to or do not want to. The only time you will make something
in that way will be if I ask you to do something and then say, 'Make it so,
Johnathan.' Do you understand?"

"I think so."

"Tell me again."

"I won't make things I think of real unless you tell me what to do, and then
say 'Make it so, Johnathan.'"

"That's right! Now, when I do tell you to do something and say 'Make it so,
Johnathan,' you will feel drunk, and then you will make real what I tell you
to do. When you are finished you will become completely sober again. And you
won't worry anymore about making bad things happen, because you trust me."
Johnathan nodded. "And how will you feel when you do what I tell you to do?"

"I will feel happy, relaxed and secure."

"That's right." Esre pressed her hands together. Her voice started trembling
again. "Now Johnathan. Tell me the truth. Did you really give Supergirl her
powers?"

"Yes. She was a barmaid, and I made her very muscular and strong, and then
when she was kissing me I thought she was as strong as Supergirl, and then,
she was Supergirl. I didn't even know I was doing it."

"Johnathan, you mustn't worry about it. You were not in control of yourself.
You couldn't help it. But now you've gone for help, and you won't be able to
make anything happen like that unless I tell you 'Make it so, Johnathan.' And
when you do as I tell you, you will feel happy, relaxed and secure." He
nodded. "Now, I want you to practice what I've told you. Tell me, what would
you like to do?"

"I don't want Susan to be Supergirl anymore."

"Hmmm. Yes, I understand that's what you want, but I'm not sure that will help
your therapy. Sitting right here in this room, how would we know it worked?
We're trying to make sure my hypnotic suggestion works."

"Uh, yeah. Well, make me as strong as Supergirl. Then she couldn't hurt me."

She shook her head. "Not a good idea." She looked around the bare room, then
down at her legs. She stifled a laugh. "Tell you what. I want you to make me
taller. I'm 5'1" now; I want you to make me 5'10", with my legs 36" long, and
the rest of my body proportionately larger. Now, do it, Johnathan."

"But I," he relaxed. "OK." Johnathan looked at her, than started straining.
Nothing happened.

"Keep trying. You're very drunk now. Does it make a difference?" Johnathan
shook his head.

"That's right," she said, proud of herself. "I think you're cured. I'm still
5'1". Even though you wanted to do it, you couldn't. Now, make it so,
Johnathan."

A blissful smile came over Jonathan. In an instant Esre's legs lengthened and
the rest of her body grew in proportion, bursting through her clothes like
they were paper. She screamed, then clapped her hand over her mouth, then
crossed her hands over her naked torso.

"Oh no! Look at me!" she said. "Oh god! Look at my legs! I'm tall!!!
Johnathan, can you believe it? No! Don't look at me. Johnathan. Fix these
clothes so that they fit and I'm dressed again! And, uh, change all my clothes
at home so that they're properly sized. Quickly!" Her face was blushing deep
red. "Oh yeah! Make it so, Johnathan. Fast."

He nodded drunkenly and Esre was dressed again. She stood up in amazement and
looked at herself, her slender body now beautiful rather than cute. Johnathan
looked slightly confused, but then became happy again and settled down.
Johnathan smiled at her, and Esre smiled back. She admired her long legs, and
kicked the chair away. Johnathan politely stood up too, although he became
disconcerted that he was now an inch shorter than Esre.

"V-v-ery good Johnathan. You did very well. You-you see, you can't uh, change
things by yourself anymore. So, uh, you have nothing to worry about. Now, I,
uh will take you out of your trance." She looked around the room for a mirror.
"That'll end this for today." She collected herself. "When you wake up, you
will still do as I've told you. How will that make you feel?"

"Happy, secure and relaxed."

"Very good, Johnathan. Now you may wake up."

He looked around sleepily, rubbing his arms and legs. "Wow. What did you do? I
feel ... so relaxed. I haven't felt this good since ... I don't know."

"I'm glad you feel better. You were an excellent subject."

"I -- hey, what happened to you? You're so much taller! You're taller than I
am!"

"Yes, I wanted to test whether what you'd told me about yourself was really
true." Enjoying the sensation of looking down at him, she added, "Obviously it
is. And, uh, there's really no reason to change me back. Not since you've
changed my clothes too. Anyway, no harm done."

Johnathan felt a bit used. "But I thought --"

"You came here for help dealing with irrational anxieties, like giant frogs.
I've cured you of that, I think, because now you can't make giant frogs unless
I tell you to," she replied, defensively. "And Johnathan, I don't even like
SMALL frogs! So you really have nothing to worry about. If you still find
yourself getting upset about," she chuckled, "little things, well, you can
always come back for another session. I'm pretty sure your plan covers it. But
your time is really up now. I have to go shop -- I mean -- to lunch."

"Isn't this sort of, uh, unethical though? I mean, your using me to make you
taller?"

Esre blushed. "Well ... I know it's ... I mean ... if you feel ...." She
looked down at him, embarrassed.

Johnathan felt bad. It was obvious that it meant a lot to her, and it didn't
cost him anything to have granted her wish. "Oh it's all right. Never mind."

"Oh thanks! I've always, always wanted to ... um. It's very understanding of
you."

"But, uh, there's another thing. When Susan - I mean Supergirl - finds out
I've used my power she'll kill me. And because you made me do it, maybe she'll
even get you too."

"Really? You think so?"

Johnathan nodded.

"Oh! Oh my!" She looked flustered.

"Please, Miss, I mean, Dr. or Ms. Or ... Please, let's take away her powers.
Make her a normal girl again. Then we'll be completely safe."

Esre looked around nervously, then her eyes widened. She blushed again and
swallowed, then got a determined look. "No! No, I've got a better idea. You're
going to make me a Supergirl too, but you will make me ten times as powerful
as you made her -- ten times stronger, ten times more invulnerable, ten times
faster, you get the idea. Each of my powers will be ten times as potent as the
ones you gave her."

"But wait! I don't know if --

She put her hand up. "No, Johnathan. No point talking about it. We have to do
it. And fast! Right away! Before she finds us." She rubbed her hands together,
then looked at him. "Make it so, Johnathan."

"But you --" Johnathan looked at her drunkenly, then came back to normal. "You
made me ... you're going to be another Supergirl!" he exclaimed.

She looked at him with a gleam in her eye. "No. Not going to be, Johnathan.
AM! You've already done it. In fact, since I must be much stronger than
Supergirl, I'm Superdupergirl!" She flexed her biceps, expecting them to burst
through her sleeves, and pouted with disappointment when she saw they rose
just a fraction of an inch. Feeling a twinge of self doubt, she put her hand
on the edge of the metal desk and lifted it, just by bending her wrist. The
lamp, her telephone, three pens, a picture of her cat, her purse, and several
files slid to the floor. She dropped the desk, making the floor shake, then
pumped her fist in happiness and turned back to Johnathan. "Yes!! It worked!
You did it! Oh I'm so happy! I can't believe it! This is the greatest day of
my life!!!!!"

"Yes, but ... what about me?" Johnathan said raising his voice a notch.

Esre looked puzzled. "You? What do you mean? How are you feeling?"

"I don't know. Uh, happy, relaxed --

"And secure, right? There you go! No anxieties, no problems."

"But wait. I'm very anxious about what she'll do to me. She said she'll kill
me!" Esre looked mildly embarrassed. "Why don't you tell me to give myself
powers like yours? I'm the one in real danger here."

She looked a little pained. "Gee, Johnathan. I don't know about that. That's
really not part of any kind of approved treatment plan. You were in a mental
hospital for seven years. Do you really think you could be trusted with powers
far beyond those of mortal men?" She giggled. "Like mine." She flexed her
biceps in a power pose, and got annoyed again that they were so small.

"You're supposed to be helping ME," he said more insistently.

"I did help you, during your session." She thought a minute. "And as your
therapist, my diagnosis is that your anxieties grow out of having too much
power. I don't think it would help you to have superduper powers. Like mine."
She nodded. "No. Not at all."

"But --

She looked down at her watch, worried about the time. "Listen, Johnathan. I'd
be happy to talk more and discuss your treatment, but I'm on my break time
now; your session ended fifteen minutes ago. You should be getting back to
work, and I need to eat my -- ooops! Almost forgot. I don't need to eat lunch
anymore." She giggled. "Maybe I'll just eat a gallon of chocolate. Or should I
eat two gallons. I mean, what's the difference? I'll never get fat now!"

Johnathan tried to get her to focus on what in his mind was the real problem.
"But what about Susan? She threatened to kill me yesterday. And she's --

A form crashed through the ceiling and landed between Johnathan and Esre.

-- here."

Susan put her hands on her full hips. "Well, I've found you -- hiding in a
basement beneath a lead ceiling. It took me all of forty-five minutes to track
you down, since I couldn't see you down here, and I AM annoyed. What HAVE you
been up to?"

Esre looked up at the 6'3" super-muscular Susan. "Wow! You ARE big!" she said
admiringly.

"Don't tell me. THIS is your therapist?" she added disdainfully.

"Hypnotherapist," Esre said, crossing her arms.

"Like I care? I've thought about it, Johnathan; you know too much to live."
She turned to Esre. "You may as well die too, Freud."

Esre put out her slim hand. "Uh, Esre, Esre Wax. You don't really want to kill
anybody, do you?" Esre said, a slight tremor in her voice.

Susan brought her hand up hard at Esre's face. Esre flinched and jerked her
head back, avoiding the blow.

"Good reflexes Freud."

Esre pursed her lips and said, hopefully. "Don't you think we should really
talk this over? Killing Johnathan would be a really big step to take. I think
you're feeling a bit detached from the consequences of your actions."

Susan looked at her coldly. "Is that so? Maybe I need a shrink. Too bad you
won't be available!"

"Well!" Esre put her hands on her hips and glared at Susan, then grabbed her
arm and twisted it behind Susan's back while pushing Susan's head down,
forcing Susan to her knees and crumpling her into a ball. Johnathan watched in
amazement as Susan strained her prodigious muscles to no avail while Esre
stood calmly, holding her down.

"Owwww! You're ... hurting me!" Susan whined.

"You're Supergirl, and I'm holding you down with no effort at all!!" Esre said
happily. "Wow!! My self-esteem is just soaring today!"

Johnathan tapped Esre on the shoulder. "Ahem. See what I mean? She's
dangerous. Please Esre, please make me as strong as you are, or at least make
me to take away her powers now."

"What did you do to him? He always was a jerk, but now he's a whining jerk
too. Does he ask your permission to take a piss?"

Esre loosened her grip slightly so that Susan could turn her head up. "No.
It's part of his therapy. I'm the only one who can make him exercise his
power; that way he doesn't have to worry about it."

"That was a good idea. I wish I'd thought of it," she said, approvingly.

"Oh thanks! You know, you really would not believe how often accepting
limitations can lead directly to better mental health. I think Johnathan --"

"Excuse me!" Johnathan shouted. "What are you doing discussing my therapy with
her?! She wants to kill me!"

"Johnathan, as you can see she's not threatening you any longer. Can't you
hear the change in her tone of voice?"

"You're holding her! What will she do when you let go?!! You have to give me
her powers!"

"No Johnathan. That would not be appropriate for your therapy. You have to
accept being a limited, normal being. Having immense strength, being
impervious to harm and all the other super abilities that Supergirl and I have
would be completely counter-productive."

Susan stuck her tongue out at Johnathan and mouthed a silent "nyah, nyah" at
him. Esre noticed and sighed.

"Supergirl, that's really childish. Johnathan, I think the best thing would be
for you to come back and see me tomorrow; we'll do another session" -- she
looked at her closed appointment book with her X-ray vision -- "at 9:30. And
you, Susan, I think it would help all of us if you and I talk about your
hostile feelings toward Johnathan. Maybe we can chat while you give me a few
pointers about flying? I guess I'm skipping lunch today." She let her go and
Susan stood up, rubbing her neck.

Johnathan backed off. "Hey! She's --

Susan rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Johnathan. I won't kill you today, ok?" She
turned away from him. "OK, Esre. I'll go along with that. You have to
understand -- I actually was in love with him for awhile -- it was only
because of that thing he can do of course -- but then he made me dislike him.
Can you believe it?" She floated off the ground toward the hole she had made
in the ceiling.

"Really? Thanks for sharing that, Susan. That's very important. You know, that
type of reaction is very typical of men," Esre agreed sympathetically as she
followed Susan, rising too fast and smashing into the ceiling. "Ooops! Hey, I
didn't even feel that. I'm always bumping into things. You know, it grows out
of a fear of commitment. Men show interest, and then back away when it's
reciprocated. I should tell you about what my first boyfriend did when he
wanted to break -- Hey, you know, I can see right through lead," she said,
shaking the debris out of her hair.

"You can? You're so lucky! I wish I could. So what did he do to you when...."
Susan replied as they accelerated upwards and quickly flew out of Johnathan's
hearing range.

Johnathan crawled out from beneath the desk, where he had dived as the ceiling
fell down around him. He stared at the holes in the ceiling made by the
departing super beings. His cheap suit was covered with dust and plaster, and
from his coughing he surmised that his throat and lungs were as well. Susan's
and Esre's tunneling through the building had destroyed the elevator, so he
crept up the stairs in the dark, avoiding the cluster of firemen in the lobby,
who were examining the trails left by the chatting superheroines. None of them
noticed Johnathan.

Returning to work in his disheveled form did not seem like a good option, so
he went home and put on his other suit first. When he returned, his desk was
covered with papers.

Rebecca peeked around the cubicle wall. Even though she had just been working
at Hamlin for only three months, she was already getting the hottest
assignments. It might have been her sunny personality, her sharp wit, her
infectious laugh, her keen analytical skills, her Harvard MBA or her
devastating political instincts. Or it might have been her 37DD frontage. She
was squeezing one of those spring devices to exercise your hands and cleared
her throat.

"I thought I should tell you -- Johnson came by to see you twice. Charles too.
Hey, Johnathan, not to be a vulture or anything, but if they fire you, can we
swap monitors before you go? Mine is really sucking lately and I hate talking
to IT." Johnathan nodded. "Thanks. Sorry about the frog costume. No hard
feelings or anything? You're a nice guy."

"Yeah thanks." A warm feeling crept down his body through his spine and up his
legs, meeting in a key appendage. Johnathan shifted in his seat. Was it
possible that Rebecca was interested in him as well as his monitor?

"Well, let me know what happens. OK?" Before he could agree she disappeared
again. Johnathan sighed, thought about prime numbers for a minute, then when
he could stand up again without embarrassment, he went to see his boss.

"Johnathan, how did things go with that, uh, head doctor."

"Um, uh, super."

"Is everything straightened out now?"

"Um, yes sir."

"No more screaming in the office?"

"No sir. I promise."

"Good. I have an important project for you. I'm sending you, Charles and
Rebecca out to a client, an oil company, we're going to market. It's a family
company, the founder is a old client of the firm and he wants to retire so
he's going to sell out. We need good numbers to do our analysis -- their
inside accountant is his daughter and she probably isn't worth a damn. You'll
leave tomorrow night. OK?"

"Yes sir. Thank you."

"Good lad. Don't let me down. I'm putting Charles in charge, because of his
seniority, but I'm looking to you to keep things in line."

"I understand, sir. And, uh, she wants me to come back tomorrow, but I'm sure
that will be it."

"Good Johnathan. You know, too much time talking to shrinks can make you
crazy."

CHAPTER 4 -- Just a Dream

Johnathan slept badly that night, dreaming of giant frogs flying through the
air, grabbing people with their tongues and swallowing them whole. One of them
had Susan's face and stared at him mockingly, then in an instant she caught
him in her tongue and pulled him down her throat into her belly. It was dark
and wet inside, but also warm and soft. He could feel himself being slowly
digested and was just reconciling himself to the situation when he woke up.

CHAPTER 5 -- Therapy

Jonathan was more than a little apprehensive about his next therapy
appointment. Giving his therapist super powers was never his intention, and he
wasn't sure what she would have in store for him this time. So he
procrastinated and as a result he was five minutes late. Esre was in another
office, on the ground floor this time. She was standing impatiently, tapping
her feet, when he walked in.

"I know you're ambivalent about your treatment. But you should be on time."

"I missed the bus," he lied.

She rolled her eyes. "No you didn't. You stopped at the newsstand on Second
Avenue, read Sports Illustrated for seven minutes, then Playboy, then stared
at the cover of Women's Physique World until 9:30. I've got super-good eyes
now. Remember?"

"Um, yeah."

"Well, let's get to work. I can't run over this time. I'm resigning after your
appointment."

"Why?"

"Johnathan, I don't need a job now, do I?" She drummed her fingers on the
desk, making deeper and deeper impressions on the metal desktop each time. "As
a super being, I've got more interesting and important things to do." She
reached over to the desk and broke off a large chunk of chocolate from a five
pound bar. "You don't mind, do you? Want some?"

Jonathan nodded and took some. "Thanks. It's very rich."

"I love chocolate." She nibbled on the bar. "I've had three of these last
night and look at my skin. I'm perfect." She sighed happily.

It only annoyed him. "You don't have to rub it in. You should have made me
super too."

"Forget it, Johnathan! It's not appropriate for you. Now, we have a few things
to get through today. First, Supergirl has agreed that she will not harm you,
so you needn't worry about that."

"I don't trust her. She threatened me."

"Yes, because you made her distant. Her feelings haven't changed, but she has
promised me she will behave. You'll have to accept that, Johnathan, and not
try to change it."

"But I can change it, easily. All you have to do is --

"No, Johnathan. Forget it. You have to get used to the idea of not having that
power. It was the source of tremendous anxiety for you and it was interfering
with your work. The sooner you accept living without it, the sooner you can
live a normal life."

"Maybe I don't want a normal life."

Esre raised her eyebrows. "Then you shouldn't have come here. This is a
short-term treatment facility designed to return clients to being productive
employees. It is not a facility for self-exploration. This was all explained
to you. It's on the consent form you signed. If you like, I can give you a few
references to other types of therapy, but --

"I don't want to go into therapy."

"I didn't think so. That's why people come here."

He stared at her, shivering at the thought of how powerful he had made her.
Impulsively, he said, "I've changed my mind then. I want you to undo the
post-hypnotic suggestion. I want control of my power back."

"What! How can I give it back to you? You never had control of it in the first
place."

"You can give it to me the same way you took it."

"No. I told you before. If you are asking me to give you conscious control of
your power, I won't do it. It's contrary to my thereputic evaluation.
Absolutely not."

"Well, then make me the way I was before."

She sighed. "I can't 'undo' a post-hypnotic suggestion. You're not a computer.
The results would be completely unpredictable. It's too risky."

"It's my treatment. I'm your patient."

"And I'm your therapist."

"You have a conflict of interest. You gave yourself control over me just to
benefit yourself. Just look at you!"

She blushed a deep red. "How dare you!!! I did it to protect us from
Supergirl." She was angry, raising her voice. "All right then. All right. Have
it your way. But don't come back to me for help the next time you have a
problem." She directed a blast of air at the button on Johnathan's chair and
he dropped backwards. Esre glared at him, and Johnathan wondered how he had
managed so quickly to make two women with superpowers hate him so much. She
hummed a few bars of a mysterious melody, and in seconds Johnathan felt
himself dropping off into a trance.

"OK Jonathan. Yesterday we decided it was best for you only to use your powers
as I directed, with a special code phrase. Do you remember the phrase?"

Johnathan nodded.

"What was it?"

"Make it so, Johnathan."

"Right." She stared at him coldly.

"You tell me that you no longer trust me to control your power. Very well.
Yesterday, I took control of your power out of your hands, and we had agreed
that your power would only work when I told you what to do and used the exact
phrase, 'Make it so, Jonathan'. That will no longer be true, although," she
glared at him, "you will still be unable to exercise it on your own.
Understand? Now repeat what I've said."

"It is no longer true that my power will only work when you tell me what to do
and use the words in the phrase 'Make it so, Jonathan', but I cannot use it on
my own. I understand."

She looked at him with contempt, and boredom, just sitting in his little
trance, waiting for instructions. She muttered to herself, "This was such a
pathetic job, talking to little nobodies like Johnathan with stupid little
problems. It's a good thing I'm quitting. I can't wait to get out of here and
explore the Universe with my superpowers." He was still there, staring
blankly. I should just leave him here like this, she thought, then, with a
twinge of ethical forebearance, changed her mind.

"OK then. You can wake up."

Jonathan opened his eyes. "That's it?" he said groggily. He looked at his
watch. "That was just three minutes. It took a lot longer last time."

Esre shrugged. "I've done it, or undone it. How it will all work, who knows?
That will depend on how your own brain works. I wash my hands of it; you're on
your own. Remember, I warned you." She stood up, and Johnathan stood too,
still peeved that he had to look up to her. He looked at his watch. It was
10:15.

"Please, don't be angry at me."

"We have a purely professional relationship, Johnathan. Why should I be
angry?"

"But you are angry," Johnathan protested.

"What, are you the psychologist now?" She pushed him back into the chair. "I
acted against my better judgment." She shook her head. "Well, that's that."

"Wait. You said you had some other things you wanted to talk about."

"Time's up."

"But --

"Time's up. Goodbye." She vanished, and moments later, Johnathan was sucked up
by her wake -- a rush of wind that slammed his head against the door of the
office. As he passed out, a vision of a world of flying supergirls, all of
them yelling at him angrily, went through his head. Then, all went quiet.

Chapter 6.

Jonathan was on an airplane flying to Houston. He could see Rebecca, two rows
ahead of him, laughing hysterically at a joke some 43 year old businessman was
telling about his drilling rig. He'd been telling jokes for an hour now,
watching Rebecca's breasts shake every time he got off a good one. Johnathan
didn't know how she could stand those awful jokes or that oily man's leering
eyes, and he wished even more strongly that he had a better view of Rebecca.

Jonathan hadn't felt quite right since the morning. His head was pounding --
it still throbbed where he had hit the door. And the kids sitting next to him
weren't helping. The parents were five rows behind, enjoying their third order
of drinks while their children bickered and whined. They were a girl, about 12
and barely pubescent, and a boy, about 10.

"It's my turn for the tape," the girl said.

"You've already had it for fifteen minutes before. I only had it for twelve."

"But I wasn't listening the whole time. I had to go to the bathroom."

"That's tough," he said. She grabbed the Walkman and he wrenched it back,
knocking into Johnathan's shoulder. She tried to take it back but he kept it
and stuck out his tongue. "Marsha's a weak sissy. Marsha's a weak sissy."

"I am not. I'm stronger than you. Now give it back."

"Make me. Make me!"

"You're not being fair. Give it to me." She was pulling at it, but couldn't
open his hand. He stuck his tongue out at her again.

Johnathan closed his eyes, wishing he could shut out the noise.

"My sister is a weak sissy," he teased. "My sister is a weak sissy."

"I am not!" She sniffled, about to cry. "It's not fair. You're hogging it. I'm
going to get Mommy."

"So what. She won't do anything," he replied.

There was a tap on his shoulder. "Johnathan." It was Rebecca. He felt funny
for a moment, then his mind cleared.

"Ha! I got it!" Marsha cried.

"I'm sorry. Were you sleeping?"

"No. I was just resting", he replied. "I have a headache." He pointed at the
children next to him.

"Give it back to me, Marsha!"

"No! I won't."

Johnathan looked over at Rebecca and pointed at the kids next to him. "Great
flight."

"Yeah. Too bad. I had to tell you. I think I just got my first client."
Rebecca made a fist and pumped her arm in the air, popping her biceps. Not
bad, Johnathan thought. "This guy I'm sitting next to is in oil and gas
exploration and he's looking for more resources. I told him I knew of a
company up for sale. I'm going to put the deal together. I bet we can kill two
birds with one stone, and collect two fees. Anyway, I'm going to take him to
dinner. I may have to call you if he gets too rowdy. OK? Leave your beeper
on."

"Oh yeah. Sure."

"Thanks. See you later."

Johnathan turned to look at the feuding siblings. The girl was holding tightly
onto the Walkman and the boy was trying to pull it away again, but he couldn't
pry it loose. She actually looked pretty sturdy and Johnathan was surprised
she was having so much trouble before.

"Ha! See? I AM A LOT stronger than you."

"You are not!"

"Yes I am. You're the one who's just a weak little girl," she teased.

"I am not!"

"You are," she said, sticking her tongue out. "Now quit pulling on it before
you make me break it."

"So who made you boss?"

Johnathan sighed and picked up his briefing book. The flight attendant came
by. "Johnathan Peters?"

Johnathan's mind spun, then he steadied and heard a sharp gasp. He tried to
ignore it. "Yes?"

"You ordered the special low salt meal? It will be here right away. I'm sure
you'll enjoy it." She smiled at him.

"Thanks."

The boy was crying now, a very wimpy high-pitched cry.

"What's the matter now? Why do you have to make such a fuss! Do you have to
cry to get your way? Don't be a baby!"

"I -- I -- my ...." Johnathan turned. The boy was clutching at his crotch. He
looked different somehow, smaller. He started crying.

The girl sighed. "Well don't start that! Here, take the tape, alright? Don't
make a scene." She looked worried.

"M-m-my penis! It's gone!"

The rows around them grew slightly quieter. Johnathan turned his head quickly
but he couldn't stop listening closely. His heart was pounding.

"What?! That's crazy!" Marsha said.

"I can't feel it!" the boy said, in a panic.

Marsha leaned over and whispered to him, "That's impossible, James. Just go to
the bathroom and check, ok? It probably just got scrunched up or something."

He shook his head mutely. "Uh-uh! I'm too scared!"

"You want me to?" He nodded. She looked each way and Johnathan pretended he
was reading his book ... and prayed. She breathed in sharply. "Ohmygod!" she
exclaimed.

The boy was shaking, "I w-w-want Mommy!"

Marsha stood up and twisted around to see her parents on their fourth drinks.
"Sshh! James, uh, they're not in such good shape now. Better wait."

"B-b-but I've turned into a girl!"

Marsha looked at him and shook his head. "No! That's impossible!"

"Look at me. I'm smaller! All my clothes are loose. And my arms have gotten so
soft. I must be so weak. And my PENIS went away!"

"James, be quiet. You'll be fine."

"And look at you! Your shirt's got all tight and look at your muscles. I bet
you turned into a boy!"

Marsha checked herself, sighed in relief and then checked her arms. One flex
and healthy-sized biceps erupted from her upper arms, straining against her
t-shirt. She trembled. "I'm still a girl. But you're right, I did get a lot
stronger." She flexed them again. "I bet I'm stronger than Daddy! This is so
weird."

"I don't wanna be a girl!"

"James, be quite! You're just going to make it worse." She clamped her hand
over his mouth. He tried to push it off, but his arms were far too weak. Tears
started rolling down his cheeks. She stroked his face to calm him down. "Maybe
there's something we can do. Don't cry. Somebody'll have an answer. Please
don't cry. Poor James!" He buried his head in his sister's chest and she kept
stroking his hair. "That's it. Just relax. If you really are a girl, you know,
it's not so bad. You'll be very pretty and we'll be the best of friends now.
We'll talk about it later." Soon James was sleeping.

Johnathan had colored deep red as he listened to them talk, and now the girl
looked over at him, inquiringly. "Sir, excuse me. I know you heard what's
going on. This is, like, impossible, isn't it?" Johnathan nodded. "Do you
understand what happened?" He shook his head. "I'm gonna hafta ask Daddy, I
guess. He'll probably say it's psychological. But it isn't, you know? It's
real." Johnathan shrugged. "Yeah, you're a lot of help," she concluded and
turned away to look out the window.

Johnathan was shaking. He had no idea how or why the changes had taken place.
He hadn't been drinking. Something triggered his power when Rebecca and the
flight attendant called his name. Charles was walking toward him. "Johnathan!
Johnathan!" He felt drunk again, then cringed and looked around. Everything
seemed normal. The flight attendant was bringing his meal.

"Yes Charles."

"Just so you know. I'm staying on the Gold Key floor, so I have a special
suite and I won't see you for breakfast. I wanted to tell you. Rebecca and I
will interview top management all day tomorrow. You'll go over the numbers
with the Controller."

He opened the foil on his dinner and took a bite. It was suprisingly tasty.
"Hey Charles, you do know I'm senior to Rebecca."

Charles shrugged. "Yeah Johnathan, but it's Johnson's orders. She makes a good
impression. You know what I mean." He pointed at her laughing at another of
the drilling guy's jokes.

"Yeah, right." Nothing happened that time. What was going on?

"You'll be fine. Hey, you watch: the Controller will be the sexiest girl in
the world and will fall desperately in love with you the first time she sees
you."

"Sure Charles. Don't make me laugh. She's a bookkeeper working in her uncle's
company. And it isn't a movie company."

"I'm going to make my way back to my seat before they serve mine. Hey, it is
ok to dream, you know. Yours looks good."

"Yeah," Johnathan said, unable to stop eating it. "See you. Enjoy your
breakfast tomorrow."

"So long Johnathan."

Johnathan's mind spun again. When he came to he looked around, but everything
looked normal. Except for Charles staring at him. "Hey, are you all right?"

"Yeah, fine."

"You're not going to go crazy on me or anything?"

"No, no. Promise."

"You keep getting a strange look, like you're having some kind of a fit."

"I'm fine." Johnathan looked out the window. He could just barely see
Supergirl, flying parallel to the plane, shaking her fist at him. He jumped in
his seat, upsetting his food and turned back, wiping his pants. "Fine."

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing."

"You're not seeing flying girls out there, are you? There's no such thing as
supergirls."

"I'm sure you know all about it."

"Yeah." He looked at him suspiciously. "You're trying to make fun of me,
aren't you. It won't work. I'm on to you. I am so on to you. I know all about
you, you know."

"Sure, Charles."

"Yeah, you just behave yourself, Johnathan, and do as you're told."

He felt plastered again, then recovered. Charles was looking at him. "You're
one sick monkey, Johnathan. Either that, or you're playing me for a fool."

"Whatever you say, Charles."

Charles left, just squeezing by the food cart. Johnathan looked toward the
window, watching the newly musclebound girl sleeping now, her hand resting
protectively on the shoulder of her new sister, then out the window. He
couldn't see Supergirl. She must be hiding behind a cloud or waiting until he
was alone in his hotel room to get him.

After the flight landed, Johnathan watched from afar the tearful and
increasingly hysterical discussion among the family. The inebriated parents
started shouting at their "son" and then at each other, and then they began
threatening the gate agent with a billion dollar lawsuit. He slipped away from
Charles and Rebecca with the excuse that he wanted to look up a college friend
before checking in, and then after a decent interval made his way to the hotel
alone. It was best to give Supergirl the opportunity to get him sooner rather
than later. Perhaps she would find Esre, and the two of them would help him or
at least put him out of his misery, now many times worse than it had been just
a week ago.

She never showed up.

Chapter 7

The client's office was a typical Houston glass tower. It had been a bank
building in the booming eighties, then a savings and loan, then a government
office building. Now it was full again, but filled with small, private
companies that would never have been let in the door when it was first built.
Daisy Clark, of Clark Oil Drilling, had sent her secretary to put him to a
conference room, and Johnathan busied himself with setting up his speadsheets
and list of questions.

The door opened and Johnathan stood up to greet her, but instead of moving
toward her he stood rooted. His mouth dropped, his hand was frozen at his
side. She was the most achingly beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Her face seemed to register a shock too. "Hello there, Johnathan," she drawled
in a rich, low voice. "It is a real pleasure to meet you."

Johnathan stared at her. She wore a light green dress that would have been
prim and conservative on most women, but her breasts so stretched the generous
material in front so far that what was intended as a loose covering provided a
platform of erupting flesh, the three buttons in front barely staying in
place. A string belt around her narrow waist gathered the dress momentarily
before the material flared out again in different directions around her hips,
only to end abruptly nearly a foot above her knee. This was the Controller?!!

She walked up to him, and looked down at him slightly from atop her three inch
heels. "Oh, you're much different from the way I imagined you." She held out
her hand. Johnathan didn't know whether to shake it, kiss it or eat it, so he
held it loosely. She shivered. "Ohhhhh. Mmmmm. It it is SUCH a pleasure to
meet you." She turned her shoulders slightly but did not withdraw her hand.
"We have to much to go through. I hope you're prepared to spend all of the
time we need."

"Uh, yes. Of course." he stammered.

She put her hand lightly on his shoulder. "I'm so glad. Now, just sit down and
relax. My secretary will bring us some coffee. I know it isn't the nicest room
to work in, but Margie makes terrific coffee. You must be very tired from your
long trip from New York."

"No, no. I'm fine. Really."

"Nonsense! You're just being polite." She gazed at him.

"Um, should we get to work?" She was still looking at him. "Miss Clark?"

She sighed. "Daisy. Please," she breathed.

"Daisy?"

"Mmmm. I love the way that sounds when you say it, Johnathan.
Yes...definitely." She looked around. "You said 'work.' Oh, I've forgotten
something." She smiled. "I'll be right back." She stood up and laughed, then
walked slowly by him. "Don't go away," she said, sashaying past him and
brushing him with her swaying hips. She paused at the door, swiveling to give
him a long look at her bust in profile, and then continued on. "Johnathan."

Johnathan collapsed in his chair. "This is unreal," he said to himself.
"Charles! Charles said she'd be a knockout in love with me. Then he said my
name. This is my doing!" He started to panic, breathing harder. "But why ...
she said my name twice and nothing happened. I don't get it."

Daisy reappeared with her lipstick brighter and the top button of her dress
undone and sat down at the table. She patted the chair next to her. "Sit right
here, Johnathan. You'll be able to see better." Johnathan nodded and sat down.
Her perfume was heavenly, and it was a struggle to concentrate on the numbers,
especially when she leaned over the table and let the front of her dress fall
open further. She didn't seem at all bothered by his confusion, patiently
explaining her accounting system for him several times and going through the
company's finances in exhaustive detail. Slowly he began to build his
valuation model, and with a break for a sandwich lunch it was five o'clock
before he knew it.

"Now Johnathan. I hope you have no plans for tonight, because I've arranged a
dinner for you with my family."

"Dinner?"

"Daddy wants to meet you. I talked to him after his lunch, and he said that
you were welcome as long as you weren't a stuffed shirt like the man who's
been talking to him. I told him I was the lucky one, spending the day with
you."

"Um, fine Daisy."

"Good. You just leave your car here. You can drive mine and I'll direct."
Johnathan agreed. He hadn't felt that queasy feeling all day. Something about
Daisy didn't seem to invoke his power. Perhaps dinner would be all right.

Chapter 8

He sat opposite Daisy and her mother. He father, "Big" Jim Clark was on the
end. Sally, her sixteen year old sister was next to him. She was short and
small-boned, although she had a tough, tomboyish look about her. She looked at
Johnathan with a slightly mocking leer.

Johnathan hadn't been in this situation before -- his years in the hospital
had insulated him from any serious involvements, and now he was eating dinner
with his boss's oldest client, whose absolutely gorgeous daughter seemed
hopelessly in love with him. Things could not be going better. Neither
Supergirl nor Esre had bothered him since he'd left New York. Perhaps it was
the airplane that triggered the reaction -- the thin air or the speed. Well,
he would just travel by train from now on. A bit slow, but not a bad result.
Or maybe he wouldn't travel. He'd quit his job and settle in Houston. Marry
Daisy. His mind whirled.

"So what's this about not liking to drink? You're not a Mormon feller, are
you?"

"Um, no Mr. Clark. I, uh, it just doesn't agree with me. I have a bad reaction
to alcohol."

"Can't hold your liquor?" He grunted and shook his head. "You New York nancy
boys! Well, Daisy doesn't go for the smell a' licker either. I guess you
two'll do jes fine." He looked over at Sally. "Now Sally here," he clapped a
hand on her shoulder, "you'd join me for a shot anytime, wunja?" He grinned.

Sally set her mouth tight. "Just give me half a chance Daddy, and I'll do you
shot for shot."

He broke out into a huge guffaw. "What a girl! What a girl!" He pounded her on
the back while she hid her pain behind a funny face. "Just like her Dad! But
sugar, remember yer a girl, hear me? Yer not gonna be as pretty as yer sister
maybe, well not like she's just blossomed, but yuv got spirit I tell you.
Spirit!" He drained his beer. "Yessir!"

Mary Lou, a pert blond who looked about 45, 25 years younger than her husband,
gave him a warning look, but Big Jim ignored her.

Sally crinkled her nose while Daisy blushed. "Daddy!" Daisy complained.

"Well it's true sis! You never looked --

"Sal!" Daisy squealed, blushing more.

"Well!" Sally looked at her sister and then over at Johnathan. "I just want to
know how you got so darm beautiful all of a sudden. It doesn't make sense and
you know it sis. I'm not saying you weren't ok, but hey, suddenly you're just
perfect. You're so ... oh never mind." She looked over at Johnathan. "You
didn't know her 'til now, Johnathan, and you must think we're all out of our
minds -- hey, you all right?"

Johnathan swayed woozily and then snapped back. He looked over at Sally who
was suddenly staring at him with her piercing blue eyes, saying nothing.

"I'm ... fine." He swallowed.

"Maybe you need to lie down, " Daisy said. "You traveled a long way
yesterday."

"No, really. I'm fine." He took a sip of water and shot a glance over at
Sally, who was looking down at her plate, trying not to laugh.

Big Jim looked disgusted. "Steak sauce too hot for you, boy?" He shook his
head and sighed.

Johnathan's heart was pounding. It wasn't the airplane. It was happening
again, like before he'd come out of the institution, but worse, more
frequently. He had to get away -- go back to being alone. He wasn't fit to be
with people. He--

Sally stood up. "I think Johnathan just needs a little air. Why don't I take
him down to the creek and back? Show him the bull?"

"Show 'im Arthur? Ha ha! Sure! That's put the color back in 'im!" big Jim
roared. "But don't try 'n ride 'im boy! Ha ha!"

"I really don't --

"It's a good idea, Johnathan. I'll help Momma clean up. I really want you and
my sister to get to know one another. She's my best friend in the world!"
Daisy put her hand on Johnathan's and smiled at Sally. Sally smiled back. But
it was a different kind of smile.

Chapter 9

Johnathan and Sally walked outside into the pleasant evening. The reddening
sun gave a pink glow to the wispy clouds high above their heads. Sally
stretched, reaching as high as her small arms would go, the loose sleeves of
her t-shirt dropping down to her shoulders. Johnathan looked at the blonde
fuzz on her arms, the small, defined muscles of a girl who lived a healthy,
outdoors life. She kicked off her shoes and tossed them by the side of the
house. Her feet were hard and calloused.

"So is this your first time in Texas?" she asked, motioning him to follow her
along a grassy track.

"Yeah. I haven't seen much outside of New York."

She nodded, climbing up a hill then waiting as Johnathan struggled up more
slowly. "I've never been outside Texas," she replied when he finally caught
up, breathing a bit hard. She looked at him in the eye and said more slowly,
"The sun's not gonna set 'til I want it to, and you're just gonna hang out
right with me 'til I tell you you can go back to Daisy, and no one's gonna
bother us." She stood there and took a deep breath while Johnathan looked at
her, puzzled. "And you're gonna make it so, Johnathan. Right?"

Johnathan staggered, then snapped back to full consciousness. "Wh-wh how ...

"C'mon, Johnny, let's walk." She strode away from the house and Johnathan
hurried to keep pace with her.

"Sally. Sally! Wait. How'd you "

She whirled around and pointed a finger at him. "I know everything. At dinner.
I said the magic words by accident and -- presto! I knew the whole story about
how you made sis a knockout. Now I'm gonna know the whole story about what
else you've done." She winked. "Make it so, Johnathan." He wobbled and she
grinned at him. "Oh so that's why you kind of look like you're drunk when I do
that." She slapped her thigh. "Pretty funny. An' you're afraid of frogs?!!"
She squatted down on the ground. "Ribet! Ribet!" Then jumped back up again.
She put her hand on Johnathan's wrist. "Did I scare you?"

Johnathan shook his head. "Sally, please. Don't. I mean, if you want to make
yourself beautiful like Daisy, but --

She snorted. "Me like Daisy? She kin have it. I want to be powerful, like my
Daddy. I want people to listen to me." She started walking down the hill.
Johnathan hurried after her. "Like look at you. You're gonna follow me
wherever I go." She turned to the left and Johnathan did so too. She started
running, and Johnathan broke into a jog, breathing heavily. "'Cause I told you
to hang with me! This is great."

Johnathan was so winded he could barely talk. "Sally ... please ... I ...
can't --

"Oh you are so out of shape," she laughed, but she stopped and let him catch
up, then started walking again.

Johnathan followed a few steps behind her, trying to match her athletic
strides, her small behind wiggling in front of him. He could see the bull in
the distance, his powerful back rippling as he pushed at the fence. What did
she have in mind? What was she going to make him do? He tried to keep up on
the rough ground, which she covered easily in her bare feet. His city shoes
chafed. He felt anger boil up inside him. He was NOT going to be used again.
He quickened his pace to catch up. Hearing him approach, she turned around
just as he lept forward and grabbed her, wrestling her to the ground. She
twisted furiously and fought back. She seemed to be all elbows, knuckles and
knees, her bones punishing him from all angles, her nails scratching his face,
but he still was on top and slowly he was pinning her.

"You have to promise to stop using my power. You have to, or I'll --

"What're you gonna do, kill me?" She sucked in her mouth and spit up in his
eye. He spit back and her face erupted in fury. "You turdball! You disgusting
turdball!" She kicked up her knee to hit Johnathan in the balls, but he
managed to keep her leg down. She grit her teeth and pushed him with all her
strength, bending Johnathan upwards. Still he held on and pinned her against
the ground.

"Promise!" he demanded.

Her eyebrows twitched. "You won't fight me! Make it so, Johnathan," she
sneered. His head spun and then he felt his arms relaxing, which enabled her
to pushed him off her easily. He rolled onto the dirt. They both got to their
feet slowly. She glared at him and slapped his face. He made no move to
respond. "Doesn't seem fair, does it?" she teased. "You cain't run away and
you cain't faht." She made as to hit him again, but restrained herself when he
flinched without making a move to defend himself. "I almost feel sorrah for
you," she said with a toss of her head. "Almost. You have this tremendous
power, but you cain't use it. And I can."

Jonathan stared at her helplessly. "So what are you going to do? Make yourself
another Supergirl?"

She crossed her arms over her small chest and looked him over. "I dunno. I
wanta be strong, that's for sure." She walked up to him and pushed her fingers
into his chest. "Muscles twice as big as yours and hard like they'd git if I
worked out five hours a day. And I'm gonna be bigger too. At least as tall as
you," she said, walking around Johnathan. She pinched his upper arms. "Wait! I
gotta think -- your muscles just aren't very big, you know, so two times won't
enough. My muscles gotta be triple your size. And you're not really that tall.
I wanna be 5'11 -- that's how tall sis is now. No, make it 5' 11 and a half
inch. Yeah, that'll do it." She looked up at him defiantly, hardening her
expression. "And just to make it more fun, make, like, a quarter of the
changes all at once, and the rest little by little for the next, uh, fifteen
minutes, so you hafta watch me growin' bigger an' stronger. And you can fight
me ... if you want. OK make it so!" she commanded, leaning forward with a
mocking smirk on her lips. She sauntered over to him and held out her right
arm and flexed, her small but firm biceps rising slightly as she laid her left
arm lightly on his shoulder and smiled sweetly. "Oh maah, willya look at
thayat lil' ol thang. It's still so small an' cute. Not even as big as yorahs.
What could be the matter! Oh, deah, can you believe it! Ah almost forgot whut
ah hafta say. And you didn't even remahnd me ... Jaawwhnnn-aaa-thaaaaan
haawwwnnaaaahhh," she drawled.

Even as she was stretching out the word "honey" his head was spinning, and
before the last elongated vowel sound left her lips the world had righted
itself again. There was Sally, her hand pressing down much harder on his
shoulder, the biceps of her right arm pushing upwards, looking round and hard
on her small arm.

"Wayal, look a thayat nah! Thayat's a real wun. You kin faht me nah, if you
want, Johnny boah." She pushed him backwards and he staggered a few steps.
"C'mon. You're not afraid of me, are you?" she added more smartly. She put her
hands on her hips. Already her t-shirt was molded tightly against her
expanding torso. She took a deep breath and it lifted above her navel and
stayed there as she slowly let the air out. "Oh yeah!" she exclaimed as she
turned her head to admire the bulges that had already appeared in her upper
arms. She jogged over to a nearby tree and jumped to grab a branch, then
started doing pull-ups. "Look at me go!" she cried as she lifted herself
rapidly again and again. "I'm so strong!" She flung herself away from the tree
and hit the ground next to Johnathan.

To Johnathan, it looked disturbingly similar to Supergirl landing from the
air. She already was just a few inches shorter than he and her biceps were
winning an increasingly uneven battle with her shirtsleeves. She curled her
hands into fists and jabbed him in the chest painfully. He put up his hands to
block her and she peppered them with sharp blows, stinging his palms. "Cut it
out!" he ordered.

"Make me!" she replied, hitting him harder. "Fight back."

"I can't. I don't know how to fight."

"That's obvious," she replied, pushing through his hands with her fists, then
teasingly slapping his cheeks. He grabbed her wrist and pushed it away. She
pushed back and he fought with all of his strength to keep her hand away from
his face. He forced her away and, his arm trembling, they remained stalemated
for a minute, then Sally started pushing him back again, until his hand was
pressed back against his cheek. The top of her head came up to his mouth now,
and her muscles seemed to be bursting out of every part of her body. She took
his other wrist and despite all of his efforts, brought it steadily up to his
other cheek. "Aww, look at the little boy, thinking how he's gonna get out of
this mess," she teased. She pulled his arms out, slowly at first, then
increasingly at her whim, up, then out again, up and out.

"Hey, let's do a little exercise and build up our muscles. "One, two, one,
two!" she cried out. "You can do it. Work those arms!" she shouted, laughing
at the ease with which she now controlled him. Johnathan tried to free
himself, but her fingers were vises clamped around his wrists and her arms
propelled his irresistably. She stopped to admire her biceps, which were now
the size of baseballs. "The exercise is doing me a world of good, but you're
not working hard enough. I can hardly feel any resistance," she went on.
"Don't you want to build muscles like mine?"

Johnathan glared at her. Sally's eyes were still an inch below Johnathan's,
but her shoulders were two inches wider, and her arms were exploding with
power. She winked at him and stretched, still holding his arms, then flexed
her chest. Her t-shirt climbed just below her small breasts, leaving her
abdominal "six-pack" fully exposed. Her sleeves were completely swallowed by
her broad shoulders, leaving her rounded biceps fully exposed. She took a
breath, and the t-shirt ripped halfway down the front, then she lifted one
long muscular leg until her shorts split. "Ah, that's better!" she said
contentedly. She saw Johnathan's eyes stray momentarily to her breasts,
visible through the tear in her t-shirt. "What are YOU looking at?" she
challenged, balling her fists and tensing her biceps and pectorals.

Her eyes were now nearly level with his. "Let's go back to our wrestlin'.
Where were we?" She eased herself backwards onto the ground, pulling Johnathan
on top of her and let go of his wrists. "I'll let you hold me down, like
before, big guy!" Johnathan tried to get away, but Sally snaked her leg around
his and tripped him, then grabbed his leg and pulled him back to her, keeping
him pinned on the ground next to her with one hand pushing on his chest.
"Awww, don't you want to fight anymore?" Johnathan coughed. "Is there a
problem? Can't breathe? I didn't think I was pressing hard at all." She stood
up, looming over him, her shorts in tatters and her t-shirt hanging loosely on
each side of her formidable chest, no more than two strips of cotton over her
shoulders and armpits. Her legs were massive trunks. "C'mon. Get up!" she
ordered.

Taking deep breaths, Johnathan rose slowly. Sally looked down on him and
smiled. "I LIKE this. I've always been so scrawny. Now I'm big and powerful."
She put her hands on her hips and flexed her abdomen. "Will you look at those.
Give 'em a punch with all you've got. I want to feel how tough I've gotten."
Johnathan shook his head. Sally sighed and rolled her eyes. "Oh DO hit me as
hard as you can in my tummy. Oh WON'T you make it so please kind sir
Johnathan?"

He staggered and then reached back and punched her stomach, wrenching his arm
and his shoulder in the process. "Aaghh!" he cried, while Sally laughed.

"I really didn't even feel it!" she crowed, flexing her biceps and admiring
the melon sized muscles that burst out. "Wow! This is great! You can go now,
if you want. And the sun can go down like it did before. But first, I wanna be
even bigger. Make me 6'4, just like my Daddy, and make all my muscles twice as
big as they are now. Make it SO, Johnathan!" Dazed, he watched as she shot up
another five inches and her arms and legs doubled in thickness. Then,
strangely, she started changing into a copy of Big Jim, her face aging
rapidly. She looked at him in horror and fell over, clutching her chest.

"Sally!" he exclaimed. "What is it?"

She was twitching, trying to talk to him. He bent over to listen. She
whispered. "My arm! I think ... heart attack ... like Daddy ... need new ...
make it ...." She collapsed.

He started back toward the house, but the sun was dropping. He could see it, a
quarter of a mile away and ran as fast as he could, then stopped. What would
he say? How could he explain the way Sally looked or what happened to her. No
one would believe him. Well, he just wouldn't explain it. "Daisy!" he called.
"Mr. Clark! Come quickly!" He ran closer, shouting. Daisy appeared at the
window, then stepped outside.

"What is it Jonathan? Why are you all out of breath?"

"It's Sally! She ... disappeared. And there's a man! He looks -- like Mr.
Clark and he seems real bad --"

Daisy fainted.

"What's going on here?" Big Jim thundered. "What about Sally!" He grabbed
Johnathan. "What've you done with her, boy?"

"Nothing, sir. She's ... I don't know where she is. She ran off ahead of me. I
tried to follow and then I saw the body and I screamed."

Big Jim spat on the floor. "Get me mah gun, C.C. I better see what this boy is
talking about."

"Be careful, James," his wife said, handing him his shotgun. "You better go
with him Johnathan. I'll take care of Daisy. Poor darling."

Johnathan nodded and trotted to catch up with Big Jim, who was taking long
strides back toward Arthur. "Sir," he gasped. "It's really weird to see ---

"Son, I've seen a lot of things you've never dreamed of so don't tell me --
well good Lordy! Who is THAT??!!" He stared at the prone figure, rigid in the
fading light. Johnathan swallowed. Jim approached him carefully. "He's the
biggest man I've ever seen. I swear he's -- well, damnation!"

"Should I call the police?"

Jim spat on the ground and kicked the lifeless figure. "Out here boy, we solve
our own problems. Now there's no need to upset the girls. There's a shovel out
in the shed. You start digging. We're gonna take care of this by ourselves. I
don't need any police out here or reporters. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"I hope so. I'm going to look around for Sally, but I bet she just gave you
the slip and went off to Grady's." He pointed to a road across the field.
"Fool girl. Always going off by herself. I bet that was her plan to go dancin'
all along. 'Show 'im Arthur,' she says. Damn she always puts it over on me.
Got spirit though. I'll go back and tell the girls you didn't know a cat from
a man in this light and that you wanted to try a little ranch work. City boy.
I'll see how you're doing later. But work fast, understand?" He shook his head
and ambled back to the house after Johnathan started on the grave.

Two hours later the two had dragged the body into the pit, which had to be
enlarged several times to fit the bulky corpse, and covered it over. Then Big
Jim took the truck out to look for Sally. Johnathan stumbled back to the house
exhausted, his suit ruined, his hands blistered from working the shovel. Daisy
looked at him admiringly. "I'm really glad you were here to help Daddy with
that nasty mountain lion. You'd think he'd just have one of the hands do it,
but sometimes he just has to do it himself, and he would never let us girls
help him, even Sal. He's always wanted to have a son."

"Well, I don't think he likes me that much Daisy. He keeps saying --

"Now, you shouldn't be listening to him. He acts grumpy, but you just have to
get to know him. And I'm so sorry sis fooled you like that. She always does
just what she wants. But I'm sure she likes you." She took Johnathan's hands
and he winced. "Ooh, I'm sorry. Your hands are so soft! Will you just look at
those blisters! I guess you don't do much outdoors work." She frowned a moment
and sighed. "But you really gave it your all, didn't you? And your poor
clothes! I think what you could use is a nice hot bath."

Johnathan put up his hand. "I better get back to the hotel. It's been a long
day."

Daisy's face fell, then brightened when she realized Johnathan's car was at
the office. "But you can't go! You can't drive yourself because you don't have
your car, and I can't leave Momma alone now to take you. She's having one of
her nervous nights and I sent her to bed. No, you'll just have to spend the
night at least until Daddy gets home with Sally." She reached for him and took
his wrist, leaving his bruised hand. "Come on. I'll show you where everything
is." Johnathan looked at her helplessly and followed along, watching her round
ass push her dress around.

They climbed the broad stairway and walked down a long corridor. Daisy was
quiet at first, then grew bolder and pulled Johnathan along more insistently.
She pushed a door open and walked into a guest bedroom, and when they were
both inside she shut it and wrapped her arms around him.

"Oh Johnathan. I've wanted to do this all day!" She covered his face in kisses
and then drew back slightly. "You do love me too, don't you?"

Johnathan looked at her deep blue eyes, her lustrous blonde hair, her flawless
skin, the billowing breasts that flattened against his chest. His member
pushed against her insistently. How could he say no? He heart pounded and he
nodded.

"I so hoped you would -- from the moment I met you!" She hugged him more
tightly and buried her head on his shoulder. "It's funny, because you're
really not my type. I've always liked, you know, the big outdoorsy type. But I
guess love is blind, Johnathan, and we're going to be so happy together, won't
we?" She slipped her hand through the front of his shirt and carressed his
chest. She frowned again and paused, but he could feel her body trembling and
then she impulsively clutched him and folded herself around him, then she drew
back and carefully unbuttoned the top two buttons of her dress, took his hand
and placed it on her breast. "Oh, Johnathan!" she moaned. "I don't know what's
come over me today, but I really want you to, uh, you know, love me. Now."

"But your parents. What if they ...."

She waved her hand. "It's all right. Momma's dead asleep and when Daddy gets
home he'll pour himself three drinks and turn on the TV. He'd never come up to
this side of the house." She pushed him gently toward the bed. He fell on top
of it and she undid the rest of her dress, folding it neatly on top of the
dresser, and then slipped off her bra and stood above him. Johnathan gazed in
awe at the full globes of mammarian flesh that spilled out, pointing at him
irresistably and then noticed Daisy was watching him, keenly attentive to his
reaction to her.

"You're incredible," he said simply.

Daisy blushed. "Yes, I -- I know," she replied. She knelt down on the bed.
"You'll be gentle when you take me, won't you? I -- I'm still a virgin." She
looked at him shyly, her small hands at her chest, her slender arms dwarfed by
her breasts.

Johnathan swallowed, unable to believe the gift fate was handing to him. He
touched her shoulder and kissed her, staring into her deep blue eyes. Her lips
were soft and her mouth warm and sweet. Johnathan gazed at this fantastic
creature. She put her hand on his belt and Johnathan thought she was going to
undress him, but she seemed to be waiting for something from him. She looked
at him quizzically, then she drew away slightly. "Uh, Johnathan. Maybe we
should wait a bit. I mean, talk a little more. You see, I -- well I have a
confession. I have to show you something." She slipped out from his grasp and
pulled her dress on quickly and left the room, then came back with a
photograph. "Johnathan. I hope you don't think I'm being a tease. Please
understand. Before we -- you have to tell me it doesn't matter to you first."

"What Daisy? What?"

"Promise."

"What is -- ok I promise."

She took a deep breath. "Look at this picture." She held it out to Jonathan.
It was a tall, gawky girl with a thin chest and thick glasses, a mole on her
cheek and long, skinny legs, smiling shyly at the camera.

"Who is that?" Johnathan asked, knowing the answer.

"That girl is me." Johnathan said nothing. "At least, it was me, until
yesterday afternoon, at 4:13. I was sitting down at a meeting with Daddy and
Dirk, the drilling manager, going over the numbers I was going to give you. It
was just a normal day, except they were a little nervous about my explaining
some of our receivables write offs from last year. They wanted me to give some
different numbers but I told them it wasn't right. I feel very strongly about
the integrity of my financial statements, Johnathan, and I just wanted to be
sure they understood that perfectly, and that Daddy and Dirk weren't going to
tell the other men from your firm anything different. We were arguing, I
guess. Well then, I was going through the payor list when suddenly I just sort
of burst through my clothes. My hips split my pants. My breasts poured out of
the 33A bra I was wearing and pushed through the middle of my blouse. My hair
went from dirty blonde to gold. I mean, suddenly I was, you know, the person
you're looking at now. And I felt different too. Sexy and curvy, graceful,
confident, and they were staring at me. I could feel their attention, their
admiration. I always liked Dirk but I felt so nervous I couldn't even look at
him. I mean, I'm glad I didn't -- because of course I met you and fell in love
with you."

"Uh-huh," Johnathan said nervously.

"I know what you're thinking. I mean, I wouldn't believe it if I were you. But
it's true. I swear it. And then even though I covered myself up with Daddy's
jacket they were so intent on staring at me that I couldn't get them to
concentrate on my arguments. Finally I just told them what I was going to do
and they said that whatever I decided was fine with them. It was like I had a
sort of power over them. Then Daddy said I had to put away the books and go
out shopping, because I couldn't walk around the office like that, so I did.
Of course when I walked out of the room, nobody knew who I was. It was so
weird. I was glad Daddy was there when it happened, because he could tell
everyone that I was really Daisy. And then after I went shopping I went home
and Momma practically fainted dead and Sal -- well -- she refused to believe I
was her sister until I let her quiz me to death with questions. I stared at
myself in the mirror for like an hour too, not really believing it, but then I
just accepted it. I mean, what else could I do? But then today I met you and
you just seemed so perfect, even though you were nothing like the kind of man
I always imagined I would love. And I thought that maybe somehow this was all
God's plan, that he made me beautiful so that a man I loved would love me. And
that what I thought I wanted in a man wasn't at all important. But then I
thought no it couldn't be like that. It wasn't logical. And even though I go
to church and listen to my minister I'm a logical girl, practical, good with
numbers and all and I had dreams, even when I wasn't so beautiful. So three is
it, I mean, about me, and ... so maybe you should tell me about yourself too,
because maybe it will help me understand why I love you -- because -- excuse
me -- but you're not the most handsome man in the world and I don't even know
you." She started crying. "Please don't be mad at me. I'm very confused!"

Johnathan held her. "Oh thank you Johnathan. You're being very nice." She
sniffled, watching him closely. "So, uh, go on. Tell me about yourself and
your family. What exactly do you do at your job? Are you a partner yet? Do you
play golf? What church do you go to? Um, are you married?"

"I'm not married. I -- I uh, I just started at the company a little while ago
Daisy. My Mom and Dad live in a town in New Jersey, near New York City. And I
don't play golf, or go to church. I, uh, like music and, uh Daisy, I -- I can
explain what happened to you. Uh, it's not God's plan or anything like that.
It's me."

She stared at him. "You?!!? What are you talking about?"

"I -- have this power. I can make things happen, things I imagine. At least I
used to. It used to happen when I got drunk, then I saw a shrink and she
hypnotised me -- so that she could control it and no one else."

"You saw a shrink?! Are you crazy?" She retreated a few feet across the room.
"I never met anyone before who had mental problems. You say she took control
over you?"

"It's not like that. I mean, I was institutionalized for awhile. But ... it
was my choice. To stop me from doing things randomly. Cause I made a girl
Supergirl, and then Esre, the shrink, she made herself even more powerful than
Supergirl. And then I complained about it, and she did something, I don't know
what, so that it happens randomly again, whenever somebody -- not me -- says
the magic phrase. And Sally, she --

Johnathan stopped.

"What about Sally?" she asked sharply. A cold wind had entered the room.

"Uh, she found out about it, the phrase. I think at dinner -- by accident. And
when we went for our walk, uh, she, uh, used it ... to control me and change
herself. She ...." Johnathan waved his hands helplessly.

"What did she do?" Daisy asked firmly.

"She made me run after her and then made me make her very strong."

Daisy nodded. "Uh-huh." She buttoned up her dress.

"She beat me up too!"

"She did? Bad girl," Daisy said unsympathetically and shook her head. "But you
feel better now, don't you?"

Johnathan nodded but was able to force only the slightest smile.

"So, the way you see it, you're what made me beautiful. And you made me love
you." She stood up. "And you knew that and you didn't say anything to me?
Well, it IS a crazy story, and that WOULD explain it."

Johnathan couldn't look her in the eye. "I think Charles said the controller
would be the sexiest girl in the world and you'd fall in love with me when you
saw me."

"Charles? The stuffed shirt Daddy didn't like? He knows the 'magic phrase'?"

"Uh uh. It happened by accident. He must have said the words without knowing
it."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. That's right. Hmmmph. So, I am the 'sexiest
girl in the world.'" She looked at herself critically. "OK. I can believe
that. And I did fall in love with you the moment I saw you. But," she added,
"he didn't say I would stay in love with you, did he?"

"I don't know. He --

"No he didn't. I'm sure of it. Because I've fallen out of love with you now.
I'm sorry Johnathan, but you really AREN'T my type. I like strong, decisive
'take charge' men. Men who are honest and bold, who when they're faced with a
problem know how to size up a situation and see it through. You're very nice,
I think, but, well ...." She flashed a brilliant smile and stood up, buttoning
her dress very carefully and checking her lipstick in the mirror. "You were
going to have sex with me, weren't you? And do you love me?" Johnathan looked
down at the ground. "I thought not. I felt it but I was too in love with you
to say anything. Oh it makes me mad that you would --" She slapped him. "Get
out of here! Get out!" He stood up and started to go. "No, wait! My sister.
What happened to Sally? Do you know where she is?"

Johnathan stared at her, unable to speak. Her eyes flashed. "Where is she?"

"She's, uh, dead."

"DEAD?!!!" Daisy grabbed him. "What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do anything to her. She did it."

"And you didn't say anything to me? Well, you're the one with the magic power.
Bring her back to life."

"I can't. I can't do anything. Someone else ...." He stopped himself.

Daisy stared at him. "Someone else has to say the words. Like what your shrink
did. Fine. Then I'll say them. What are the words?"

"I shouldn't tell you. You could -- anything could happen."

A door slammed. "Daisy!? Come on down here! Daisy?!"

Daisy put her hands on her hips. "Oh you will tell me. Whether you want to or
not. You're damn right anything could happen. How would you like to see my
father's shotgun aimed at your pecker? And he'll shoot it off too, if he
thinks you did anything bad to Sally."

"But no one would believe you. And you can't prove anything."

Daisy smoothed her dress over her bosom. "What makes you think I have to?" She
walked toward the door. "Last chance, buster."

"Daisy?!! Where the hell are you girl? Is that nancy boy here with you?"

She opened the door. "I'm right here Daddy. But I'll be down in a --" She
looked back at Johnathan. "Well?"

Johnathan swallowed. "Make it so Johnathan."

Daisy repeated carefully. "Make it so Johnathan." And she disappeared.

"Daisy! Not in a minute. Now!"

Johnathan looked around frantically. The window. He opened it and climbed onto
the ledge. Big Jim was coming up the stairs. Johnathan shut the window behind
him and edged across, then jumped down into the garden and started running
toward the road. He could hear some faint screaming from the side of the
house. He peered over. The well! Daisy was down in the well. He rushed over --
No! She knew the secret. What would she do? He had to get away.

He ran again and reached the road, then started walking back towards the city.
After almost an hour, he hitched a ride with a trucker and finally reached his
hotel room at 11:30. His message light was blinking. Five messages. Two from
Charles asking for a report, two angry messages from Big Jim. One from
Rebecca. He called Rebecca.

"Hi. Uh, it's not too late, is it?"

"Johnathan? No, of course not. I don't need much sleep and I was just working
on my presentation to Johnson. Hey, where've you been? No, don't tell me. I
know about your dinner with Daisy. So, are you getting married soon? Wanna
tell me about it? I'll meet you in the bar."

"Uh, I don't really want to run into Charles."

She laughed. "Are you kidding? He won't leave the lounge on his 'Gold Key'
floor. I'll be down in five minutes. I have to tell you all about my new
client."

He hung up, then listened to the messages from Big Jim again. The first one
said Sally was nowhere to be found, and now Daisy was missing. There'd be hell
to pay if Johnathan had run off with her. The second rambled on about
everything going to pieces and now he couldn't even take a goddamned shower in
his house because the water was off. He could hear the three scotches in Big
Jim's voice. So, the well people would find Daisy in the morning. She might be
dead by then. And then what? His job would be finished. Maybe he'd be
arrested. He looked at the clock. Rebecca was waiting for him. He ran down to
the elevator and met her at a table in the corner.

"You look like absolute hell! What happened to you? Wait! Have a beer first
and then tell me. Hey, I think I've got this thing all sold for us. The guy on
the airplane wants me to come work for him, but no way he'd pay me enough. But
I didn't tell him no. Not yet anyway. I bet I make half a million out of this
trip! Ahh, here's the beer." She leaned back in her chair, the profile of her
incredible breasts on display even through her suit jacket. "So Johnathan, did
you have a fight with the client's daughter? Or with her Dad? Ha-ha-ha-ha!"
She touched his shoulder. "But seriously, Johnathan, you don't look good at
all. Tell me all about it."

Johnathan had already finished the first beer and motioned for a second. He
was in full confessional mode. "I think her Dad is going to kill me. Cause I,
well, I sort of killed both his daughters. I think."

"You think?" She wasn't taking him seriously. "Johnathan, this isn't one of
these 'frog' things, is it?"

He closed his eyes. "Rebecca. You have to help me. I need help. I can't do it
myself."

"This sounds pretty serious, Johnathan." She sighed and looked at her watch.
"OK, why not? What can I do?"

"I have this power, see, and -- no, wait. Forget that. I'm going to write
something and then you just say it, OK? Just say it and then forget all about
it." Rebecca nodded while Johnathan scribbled on a napkin. "Here."

Rebecca studied the paper and frowned. "It's really hard to read. OK. Sally
Clark is alone and in her old body sleeping in bed. She remembers nothing
about tonight. Make it so Johnathan. Hey, are you all right?"

Johnathan almost passed out, but then straightened himself. "Yeah. Keep going.
I wrote 'alive.' You have to say 'Sally is alive.'"

She held the paper up closer and squinted. "Sally is alive. Daisy Clark is . .
. alive and in her bed sleeping. She remembers nothing about tonight." She
turned over the napkin. "This is really impossible to read, Johnathan. Big Jim
likes you. I'm going to remember noth -- no I'm not going to say THAT! Hmmm.
Make it so Johnathan."

Johnathan slumped over again, then recovered. "Thanks." Rebecca was staring at
the piece of paper.

"Well look at this, Johnathan! Now it's totally illegible. I can't make out a
single word."

"Uh, yeah, I , uh, wrote it in disappearing ink."

"No you didn't! You used my pen!" She was thinking. "You're trying to hide
something from me, Johnathan, but it won't work. Now come on, spill it all.
I've probably figured it out for myself anyway. You may as well help me. I
know you like me. You can trust me. Maybe I can help you. I already have,
right?"

"Uh huh."

"We both know you're not really cut out for this work. Maybe we can use your
power to help you do something else. So, why did I have to read it? Why can't
you do it?" Johnathan reluctantly explained the story to her, even the part
about the frog. "I am SO sorry I upset you like that. Poor Johnathan. You
really don't have a very strong grip on reality, do you? I guess because in
your mind, reality doesn't have much of a grip on reality, right? So, is there
any limit on what you can do? Can you make us both really rich? Let's see.
Johnathan Peters and Rebecca Hanson each have a net worth of a billion
dollars, invested in a diversified portfolio of S&P 500 companies maintained
with Hamlin Brothers Securities. Make it so Johnathan." She caught him as he
almost fell off his chair and steadied him until he came to. "Did it work?"

"I don't know. But it always does."

"Cool! We're billionaires!" she crowed, then looked around. A couple two
tables over was looking at them. "Maybe we should go somewhere more private,"
she said more quietly. "How about your room?"

They got up and put the tab on Johnathan's bill. While Johnathan checked his
messages, which included one more plea from Charles and two calls from Big Jim
-- the first another angry rant and the second a much calmer thank you for the
good work Johnathan's team had done today along with an invitation to next
week's rodeo at the ranch -- Rebecca was checking her portfolio on her account
at Hamlin Brothers.

"It's all there, although I really have to reallocate the holdings. It's all
capitalization-weighted, which was a good strategy for the last few years but
won't work now. So! It IS real! What so we do next?"

"Sleep?" Johnathan suggested.

"We don't need sleep! Make it so Johnathan! Oh wow! Now I'm really wide awake.
Hey this is incredible. But do you really have to pass out all the time? No,
of course not. That's just what the shrink did to you. OK. When you use your
power, you'll feel good, like ... like you've just had great sex. Make it so
Johnathan." Johnathan sighed and settled back into his chair with a contented
smile. "Isn't that better?" Johnathan nodded dreamily. "See? Stick with me
kid. We'll be a great team. We'll --" She stopped short and was staring.

"What is it, Rebecca?"

She waved her hand to quiet him. "Just a sec. I'm thinking." She pursed her
lips and furrowed her forehead, then started twisting the end of her hair
nervously around her finger. She looked at Johnathan guiltily and said
quickly, quietly and firmly, "You can't move and you can only whisper. Make it
so Johnathan." Johnathan sighed and then frowned, paralyzed in his chair. "I'm
sorry Johnathan, but I had to do it. I have to keep you here while I work this
out."

"But ... I trusted you." Johnathan croaked in a whisper.

"I know you did. But, Johnathan, you see, you have -- or are -- a very unique
product. It's a kind of case we did in business school. Didn't you learn it?
Oh yeah, you didn't go to Harvard. Well, it's very much like intellectual
property: a song or an idea. Once it's out of your head, it can be shared by
everyone at no additional cost unless somebody imposes an artificial barrier
-- like a patent or a copyright, to create a kind of monopoly. Are you
following me?" Johnathan was staring at her in confusion. "OK, let me try
again. When your shrink made your power execute itself on her instructions,
she changed something that was within your sole control -- even if you
couldn't really control it -- to something that could be controlled by anyone.
She understood that she had to monopolize it to protect you -- and she
probably acted with your best interest at heart. I mean, she had created an
entirely stable situation. She had supreme power, and no one else could get at
you to change it. It's like she owned the patent on you. Everyone in theory
could do it, but only she had the right to. And it's like she put copy
protection on it. Susan -- Supergirl -- tried to do the same thing by keeping
you off alcohol, but hers was clearly a less effective solution. It's like
someone trying to stop Napster by going around looking at everyone's
computers. It can't be done, just as her ability to enforce her rule that you
couldn't drink was limited by her inability to see through lead and find you."

Johnathan nodded.

"So, either one person completely controls you, or he or she is at the risk
that someone else will. And you see, the other unique aspect of your power is
that it makes everything insecure. No one has any property, any rights at all
with you around, because you can take it all way or destroy it at will. Wow!"

"So you want to monopolize me? Can't we just agree on what to do with it?"

"No, you goose! You can't buy me off by promising not to let anyone else use
your power, because you don't control it! And anything you do at the command
of one person can be completely nullified by anyone else that has access to
you. So I'm sorry, but that doesn't work. I mean, the tragic thing is that
except by my goodwill, you'd have nothing at all to say about what I do with
it."

What's even the point of having a billion dollars when the next person who
comes along can take it all away? And not only take it away, but obliterate me
entirely, so I never existed. So that none of us ever existed. Or maybe
everything that exists, exists only because you had made it a couple of years
ago when you were in the loony bin. Maybe you're God, Johnathan. Did you ever
think of that?"

"A person could go mad with access to this much power, couldn't they? That
happened to you didn't it? I saw your personnel files. A guy in HR is hot on
me and let me look you up." Johnathan grimaced. "And it must be really easy to
make a mistake, like Sally did or Daisy, and blow the whole thing. Kill
myself. Or destroy the universe. God! I have to be really careful."

"Maybe you should destroy the power. So no one can use it."

"I thought of that. It would be a shame, though. Well, I'm going to do
something tonight. I'm not the sort that dithers about decisions Johnathan.
I'm going to . . . ."

suggestions should be sent to marknew742@aol.com