Give and Take
By Marknew and Nomdreserv
Marie wishes her ex-boyfriend would become a giving person


1

"What do you mean see other people for a while?" Marie demanded angrily. "How
can you say such a thing to me? I thought you LOVED me." She struggled to
control her emotions -- and failed. "You can't leave me," she begged. "I've
told EVERYONE we're going steady."

"You did?" he snorted. "Gee, that was a mistake. I really think we need a
break from each other," Thomas countered. He hated going through these scenes,
but as the star quarterback for his college team, he'd had a lot of practice.
Marie was nice, maybe a little over-dramatic sometimes, but cute, like a
little doll he always told her, and very good in bed. Still, it just wasn't
fair of her to expect him to stay with anyone for very long -- much less with
a mere freshman so early in the year.

The tears were really flowing now. "You SAID you loved me. I know you did."

"Yeah, I may have said that. But I guess I don't anymore. You can't blame me
for how I feel."

She glared at him. "Maybe not, but it would have been at least DECENT of you
to tell me about it before I had to hear it from Charlotte Evans!"

He shrugged. Charlotte certainly was quick to get the word back to Marie so
soon. She must like him more than he thought. He'd have to go see her later.
"Sorry," he said, simply.

"You bastard!" she screamed, lashing out to slap him. He intercepted the hand
effortlessly, having expected something worse.

He thought back in their relationship. He'd had to work a little harder than
usual to get Marie into bed, since she'd had some vague ideas of saving
herself or something. Perhaps he should have paid more attention to all those
ramblings about true love. Not that his enthusiastic agreements would have
been any different. Sometimes you had to humor them before you could get their
panties off.

She struck with the other hand, to no better effect. He would not have been
really worried even if she did connect. His reflexes and strength were far
superior to hers. But he didn't want her to scratch him. His friends always
teased him when he showed up with a long fingernail mark across his face. He
held her wrists firmly while she struggled to pull away.

"Let go of me!" she shouted.

He did so and stepped back, hands held up apologetically. "Sorry. Just didn't
want you to get hurt yourself. You know even though you're a girl, sometimes
my reactions get the better of me and I hit back," he said, knowing that this
mild threat was usually enough to deter any further attacks.

"They tried to tell me," she mused bitterly, remembering her friends'
warnings. "Did you mean anything you said to me?"

It was so hard to remember what he said to whom, he honestly couldn't answer.
"Look," he said by way of explanation. "It's not you." They always bought
this. "It's me. I just need --

She cut him off. "You! Always you! Always your needs. You are such a selfish,
conceited bastard. Look at this!" She held up a golden ring with a purple gem
in the center that she'd always worn around her neck. "And to think I was
going to GIVE this to you. It was my GRANDMOTHER'S."

He rolled his eyes. Whoah! She was REALLY going too far. Good thing he was
cutting her loose now. This was just about as much as he could take.

"Oh, I just WISH you were the kind of person who would give something of
yourself to others -- something other than your STUPID COCK!" She threw the
ring at him and burst into tears. He caught it on reflex and it burned his
palm a little.

She stood in front of him crying. He shook his head in pity. Sad, really.
Girls really had no pride at all. He picked it up off the ground and looked at
it in the light. He shrugged and reached out to Marie. "Take it back Marie.
You're going to need it someday, with some other guy. I got to go to class.
See you around." She ignored him and he dropped it on her shoe and left.

2

Thomas always prided himself on the fact that even though he was the star
quarterback he never confined himself to the easy "jock classes" like the rest
of his team. He made it a point of taking one "real" class each semester and
this time it was European History. The amount of reading he had to do to keep
up staggered him, but he doggedly kept it up and was on track to get his "B",
although he had to pass today's test. He'd spent several hours studying last
night and felt prepared as he settled into his seat. Joanne Edwards, a busty
brunette who was definitely on his list to try out a bit later in the year,
sat down next to him.

"You nervous?" she asked.

"Yeah, a little," he admitted. "But I think I know this stuff about 16th
century England pretty well. You know, Henry VIII, Thomas More, Bloody Mary,
The Spanish Armada, etc.," he said, trying to impress her. There was one thing
strange he was seeing, but it was slightly crazy and he wasn't going to
mention it to her. Ever since he'd left Marie, he'd felt a weird tingly
sensation, and when he talked to people, it was almost like there was a
strange purplish aura around him that seemed to connect him with them. Now he
could see it connecting him and Joanne, but obviously she couldn't see it.

Her face fell. "I remember Henry VIII pretty well, but I didn't do the next
chapters, about Bloody Mary and Queen Elizabeth. Were we supposed to?"

"That's the main part of the test!" he said. "I can't believe you didn't study
it!"

She touched his arm. "Oh No! Shit! I'm doomed."

"Really. It's very complicated, with all sorts of stuff about England's
relations with the Spanish and French and even the Scottish Queen trying to
interfere. Did you know Scotland had its own Queen?"

"It did? Oh God! I wish I knew it as well as you do!" she sighed. She got a
funny look on her face. "Mary Queen of Scots, right?"

Thomas looked at her blankly. "Huh?"

"She was the queen who -

"Class, get your pens ready. The test is starting," announced the TA, who was
distributing the questions through the room.

Thomas looked down at the paper in panic. Who was Mary Queen of Scots? Who was
Queen Elizabeth anyway? He knew she was Queen of England now, but was there
another one who was part of his history curriculum? He looked at the list of
questions and realized he couldn't answer a single one! He glanced over at
Joanne, who was writing furiously and was already up to the fourth question.
But he was sure he'd studied the right chapters, and now, even though he could
remember spending the evening reading, he couldn't remember a single fact from
the book. He stared at his blank test book.

"Mr. Malone. The test has begun. Your coach isn't going to call the play for
you," the TA cracked. He was a nerdy guy who'd always resented Thomas, and now
he was enjoying the opportunity to get a few digs in. "What are you waiting
for?"

Joanne looked over at him, puzzled by Thomas' empty page. He said he'd
studied, and the questions were really easy. Even she knew them without
studying. It was obviously just general knowledge. She realized that he really
must be a dumb jock, despite all his pretensions at being more than that. She
turned away, having lost all interest in him, and resolved to sit somewhere
else the next time they had class.

3

Thomas suited up and walked out to the practice field. He still couldn't shake
the feeling that something wasn't quite right. He shook his head. It probably
was just a headache from listening to Maria cry. He hated the way girls did
that. What did they WANT from him anyway?

As usual, the appearance of the star quarterback drew appreciative attention
from the cheerleaders, who timed their practice for when the first team
players were out. One of the girls, a short, busty and rather clumsy girl
named Jill, ran up to him, having conveniently left her drink bottle right
where he'd come out.

"Hiya Thomas," she called cheerfully, taking a gulp of water. "How are you?"
She did a little dip to make her breasts jiggle. Guys always liked that, and
from the look of Thomas's eyes he did too.

"Fine," he lied. There was that damed aura again!

She tried to keep him talking. "They said they might let me try the vault
today."

"That would be nice," he replied, thinking it would be a disaster when she
ended up plowing into the other girls when she tried to launch over them.

"It's just so hard," she complained, thinking along the same lines as he was.
"I always flub it. I really wish I had your coordination."

"Yeah, sure. Well, see you," he nodded while walking away, thinking to himself
smugly, "Who wouldn't?"

Oddly enough, he tripped as he reached the edge of the field. He recovered
quickly enough, but felt like he was walking differently. His whole body just
felt strange, like it didn't fit together right.

It turned out to be an omen for practice. His whole game was off. He fumbled
the snaps, and his reaction times were incredibly slow. When he tried to run
the ball, he couldn't hit the holes fast enough, or evade the tackles when the
defensive players closed on him. And even though he could hurl the ball far
and knew when and where to throw (his best skill), he wasn't even close to his
normal accuracy. His passes floated off his fingers like wobbly lobs.

The coach had finally had enough and whistled for a break.

"What the HELL is going on?"

"I don't know. I just don't feel right."

"Don't FEEL right? What kind of dipshit, lame excuse is that?"

After berating him loudly and publicly for another two minutes, he motioned
the backup in.

"Let's see if there's ANYONE here who can get the job done."

James, the backup, patted him on the way in. "Sorry, man. Don't worry about
it. I know it's just an off day for you. It's not like I'm gonna steal your
job. No one can like quarterback like you can, man. I just wish I had your
ability to see the whole field, read defenses, you know, that kind of shit."

"Yeah. Hey James, you don't see anything purple in the air, do you?" James
gave him a funny look and shook his head. "Yeah, just kidding. Go get 'em out
there buddy," he said encouragingly and trotted off the field.

Thomas was somewhat reassured by this. Or at least he was until the first
couple of plays. James read a simulated blitz perfectly and hit the barely
open receiver in full stride. The offense players whooped.

"All right! That was perfect. Man, that was awesome!"

Even the coach was impressed. James was a year behind Thomas and had a good
arm, but he had never been able to think on the field the way Thomas could.
And that throw had been as good as ... well, as good as any Thomas had ever
thrown. And things just got better from there. It was as though James had
finally acquired that superb field awareness that Thomas was famous for. The
team seemed to recognize the passing of the baton instinctively, and started
to cluster around James supportively.

Dejected, Thomas tossed a ball hard at the kicker's net on the sideline.

And missed.

Shocked, he tried another throw more carefully. It was wobbly and off target.
The ball felt positively alien in his hand. It was like he'd never played
football before.

Frightened now as well as depressed, and wondering if he could be coming down
with the flu, he stopped to admire one of the cheerleaders, a flash of blue
and yellow as she executed a perfect twist as she somersaulted over her
partner. Then he stopped in surprise as she popped up triumphantly. It was
Jill. She saw him and ran over.

"Did you see that? Wow, it's just incredible. I'm doing EVERYTHING today:
jumps, somersaults, twists. And I feel WONDERFUL. It's like my whole body is
all of a sudden working together perfectly. Everything just feels so ...
right."

Thomas realized it was almost the exact opposite of his own feelings. A
nagging suspicion began to take hold. He could see that aura enveloping Jill
and him again.

"Sorry you had problems today," she continued kindly, though in fact, she was
surreptitiously eyeing James as he worked behind him, the shouts of glee from
the players washing over them. "I know the feeling though. There are always so
many things I'd like to do and just can't. Like I'm so close to making the
main squad now ... if only I could lift one of the other girls so I could do
the pyramid finale with them. But I'm just too small. Gosh, I wish I was a
little bit bigger and stronger -- just a couple of inches and I'd BE there."

Thomas noticed something odd - her uniform seemed tighter -- and not just
because it was a little too small, riding higher up her legs. The tiny skirt
seemed stretched around suddenly powerful thighs, and the top was pulled more
tightly across her back and shoulders. She even looked taller. She ran back to
join the practice, waving to him. Was that a swell to her biceps that hadn't
been there before?

Jill seemed to notice a change in herself too. She must be having some kind of
crazy growth spurt today! On a hunch, she ran eagerly up to one of the other
girls, asked her something, and a moment later was lifting her, much to the
other's amazement and acclamation. She unexpectedly tossed the girl into the
air, not just a couple of feet, but high into the air, to her shrieking
delight. Experimentally, she held out her arms, and two girls hung on, finding
themselves suspended from the ground. That afternoon, the girls had decided
they had a new anchor to their pyramid.

Thomas watched from the sidelines for most of the practice. When coach sent
Thomas in again to rest James and give him a few pointers, Thomas approached
the team gingerly. A few slaps on the back and words of encouragement restored
his confidence a little, but he still didn't feel right standing around his
teammates, almost as if they'd all grown taller in the last hour, while he'd
become smaller and weaker. He dismissed the thought and called for the ball,
and promptly fumbled the snap. The center and one of the blockers looked at
each other, but Thomas took charge and told them to get going. A short pass to
the outside would restore him, he thought, and called the play. They lined up
and Thomas grabbed the ball shot the ball to his halfback -- at least that's
what he'd planned to do. Instead the ball floated lazily up in the air, to be
snared by the safety who ran it out for the score.

The whistle blew. "Hey Thomas, get OUT of there!" Thomas jogged over to the
coach. "Take three laps and take a shower. And if you can't stop throwing like
a fucking girl, we'll find someone who knows how to play, OK?" He turned back
to talk to James, who avoided Thomas's eyes.

4

Thomas walked unsteadily to the Student Center. He was mystified by the day's
events. He needed to be alone, to think about what has happening to him. He
grabbed a Coke and sat in the Lounge downstairs. It was usually empty this
time of day, and he sat in the dim light, his back turned to the rest of the
room. He'd failed the history test for sure, and now had lost all confidence
in his football. It seemed like he was cursed. What could he do about it?

Slowly he became aware of the TV on the other side of the room. It was a rerun
of the Plays of the Week, his favorite show. Well, that would be a good way to
relax and calm down. He turned and crossed the room, joining a group of
freshmen, mostly girls, arguing about which soap opera they should be watching
instead. He recognized a couple of the more attractive ones, having marked
them as potential targets after Marie. One was Tabitha and the other Jessica.
With them were two other girls. There was Sasha, a studious, serious girl with
her hair tied back, wearing glasses and reading a women's studies text. The
other, Courtney, was a cheerleader wannabe, except she didn't have either the
connections or the tits to make the squad as a freshman. But she'd probably
make it next year. She instantly recognized him as the star quarterback, made
an excited noise while signaling her friends, and called to him while making
room for him to sit down. Tabitha and Jessica smoothed their hair in obvious
primping and looked at each other as though this was something they had hoped
for. The only one who seemed less than pleased was Sasha, who only snorted and
went back to her book.

He accepted their invitation gladly, pleased to be the center of attention and
desire. Now this was more like it.

Courtney immediately seized his arm. "Oh, Thomas. Are you, like, back from
practice already? That's super! Now you can explain this stuff to us."

Sasha snorted in contempt. "As if there was anything to explain about a bunch
of Neanderthals in plastic armor bashing each other."

He looked at her challengingly. "It's a lot more complicated than that."

"Oh, I'm sure," she sneered.

"For example," he continued, switching to a rather bombastic tone. "On that
play, we see the linemen pulling to open the lane for the running back."

Sasha just snorted again.

"Don't pay any attention to her," Courtney said, glaring icily. "She's never
watched a game in her life. Can you believe she's even proud of it?" She
snuggled up to him. "Tell me more about what those really big players are
doing." She indicated an offensive line surge that turned the back loose for a
25 yard run.

"That was a nice trap block," he observed. "Really sprang the halfback."

"Oh, Thomas," one of the girls gushed. "There's so much more to football than
I ever thought."

"Well," he explained. "It really takes years of practice to play well. And you
can't understand the game just from television. You have to play it too in
order to really be able to explain it. That's why the best announcers are
ex-coaches and quarterbacks. See that pushing in there?" He pointed to the
screen. "That blocking set up the whole play for the fullback. All the camera
shows you is him rushing the hole, but the blockers made the hole. Not only
that, the hole didn't come from just that play. You develop the control of the
line over a series of plays, as the players establish dominance and sap the
confidence of their opponents."

Courtney put her hand on Thomas's arm and leaned over him, her breasts resting
against his arm. "Gosh! You just see what's going on so well! It must be so
great to know football like that. I wish we understood the game like you do.
I'd really enjoy the game so much more, especially watching YOU play. Hey,
tell us what that player's doing?"

"You mean the...um..." He frowned. Why couldn't he remember who lined up on
the end like that?

"You know, the strong side receiver," she prompted, giggling at his hesitation
and enjoying the opportunity to she him that she knew a few things about the
game too. "Why is he split out?"

"Um..."

"Oh, look," Jessica put in, suddenly becoming interested in the game and
forgetting Thomas. "The safety's coming up. You think they're guessing
reverse?"

"Who wouldn't?" Tabitha said. "it's, like, SO obvious."

Thomas was completely befuddled. Reverse? What was in reverse? The clock was
still ticking forward. The players hadn't turned around. He started to say
something and trailed off helplessly. On the screen, he watched a confusing
blur of players, completely unable to follow the action.

"Yes!" Tabitha crowed as the reverse went for 20 yards. "The linebackers were,
like, so totally taken out there."

Courtney tried to get Thomas back to the center of attention.

"Did you ever run a play like that, Thomas?" she asked with big, blinking
eyes.

"Um, like what?" he asked, feeling that panic he'd managed to fight off
return.

"You know, a misdirection play. You get the linebackers to over-pursue, maybe
sucker a cornerback in."

"Um...a corner what?"

She looked at him with surprise. He'd sounded so knowledgeable before, and the
questions she was asking now were so easy.

"Hey, speaking of the cornerback," Jessica put in excitedly, also no longer
paying Thomas any attention, "we've got a blitz here. Come on! Hammer him!"

"Oh, please," Sasha suddenly put in. Her attention had slowly been drawn from
the book, and she suddenly found herself watching the action on the screen
with real interest. The game was more intriguing than she would have admitted,
and she found that she seemed able to pick it up instinctively. In fact, the
last few seconds had been a revelation. She saw the formerly indistinguishable
players take line up and somehow knew exactly what each position was for. She
saw a slight head flick from one of the players. "It's a fake. The corner's
going to drop, and it's actually the safety who's coming. See, the fullback's
already picked it up."

"Yeah, you're right," Jessica admitted. "The tight end probably would have had
it anyway. Newsome's the best at picking it up. Right, Tommie?"

"Um..."

"Good hands, too," Courtney nodded sagely. "Good outlet receiver."

"Safety blitz," Tabitha confirmed a second later. "Great place for a draw"

"DUH!" All the girls chorused, laughing.

"Um, I can draw," Thomas volunteered weakly. "I was taking this art class last
semester and..."

"Shh!" Sasha shushed him angrily, discarding her book. "Let us listen to this.
They're reviewing the top runners for the week."

Thomas was staring at the screen in complete despair. What were the players
doing? This stuff should have been second nature to him, but he didn't have a
clue as to what was happening. After several minutes of complete, miserable
silence from him, while the girls all whooped it up enthusiastically, Courtney
finally noticed and tried to draw him out again. She tried to give him one
he'd know from experience, as a quarterback. She wanted his real game
insights. When another defensive shift was being shown, she asked sweetly.

"So would you audible here?"

He looked at her with a lost expression. "Is it audible? Yeah, I can hear the
... the ... um ... that player with the ball ... you know...."

"The QUARTERBACK?" she asked, astounded at his apparent ignorance.

"Yeah, him. He's like yelling numbers now."

She turned away in disgust. What was WRONG with him? He'd probably made up the
other stuff in advance and that was all he'd memorized. Hmmph. Obviously, he
was one of those jocks with absolutely nothing between the ears. They must
draw pictures of every play for him.

"Hey guys, let's go," she said to her friends. "We don't want to distract the
'pro' here. His expert analysis is just too confusing to girls like us." There
was a round of giggles that left Thomas blushing fiercely. "We can watch this
in my room and do our make-up for dinner while we're at it."

They got up, still laughing, and left, leaving Thomas alone watching a game he
just could not understand.

5

"Thomas? What are YOU doing here?" she asked, half angry, half suspicious.

"We have to talk," he said, pushing his way into her room. "You have to take
this curse off me."

"Curse? What are you talking about?" she asked, looking at him with a curious
expression. He looked odd. His jacket hung on him like it was a couple of
sizes too large, and she had unconsciously reacted to the fact that he didn't
tower over her the way her always did, now he stood only a few inches taller.

"That stupid ring. The one you threw at me. It did something."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not! Look at me!" He pulled off his jacket, and she gasped. It was like
he had been on some kind of crash diet - he was thinner, and his shirt hung
loosely, seeming to emphasize his weight loss. It even made his broad
shoulders (something that had attracted her) look smaller somehow. But it
wasn't fat he'd lost -- it was muscle, and height. Even his bones seemed
smaller and thinner. He certainly didn't look like the imposing jock he'd
always been.

"Wow. What happened?" she asked.

"I don't know. It's been going on since we broke up this morning. It's like
people are taking things from me. Things I know, or things I can do. Even my
size."

She just looked at him as though he was frothing at the mouth. "That's crazy!"

"Oh yeah? Jill lives in this building. Did you see her after practice? She
made some comment about wanting my size and strength, and she's BIGGER! She
got bigger and I got smaller. I saw it happen. And just look at me!"

"You're imagining things. Do you even know how ridiculous you sound? Do you
really think I could make you smaller by saying I want a couple of inches from
your height?" Nothing happened and Marie folded her arms in front of her
triumphantly.

Thomas looked puzzled. Thinking aloud, he said, "No, no, that's not it. You
got it wrong. They all said something like, 'I wish'...."

Marie looked at him as if he were a lunatic or an idiot child. She sighed and
rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "All right, if it'll make you happy -- but
then just leave, ok? I really don't want to see you."

(Thomas suddenly had a vision of Elmer Fudd struggling with a dud gun, then
handing it to Bugs Bunny to check it out. Of course, Bugs would aim it at
Elmer and ....)

"OK. I WISH I had a couple of inches from you." They both gasped as Thomas
suddenly seemed to sink into the floor and her perspective on the room
changed. She turned back to him and to her shock, she found herself looking
him evenly in the eye. Then she realized how tight her jeans had gotten. They
had pulled up to lower calf level and were tighter around her waist.

The changes to Thomas were just as dramatic. His own pants were dragging on
the floor, and his shirt seemed to have become a size larger.

"No way!" she breathed.

"You see?" he said helplessly, pulling at his pants to stop them from slipping
down.

"Amazing." She just couldn't get over staring him evenly in the eyes. She felt
a weird sense of excitement, but wasn't sure if it was from being taller
herself, or seeing him so much smaller. Either way, he was no longer the
intimidating figure he used to be. Not by a long shot.

"OK. So, now you see. Now you've got to change me back," he demanded, stepping
up in what should have been a threatening manner. "AND YOU'VE GOT TO DO IT
NOW!"

She was so put off by his attitude, which was almost comical given his new
"stature." She looked him coolly in the eye, her rage at the way he'd treated
her quickly beginning to reassert itself, but this time, without any fear.

"Or what?" she snorted. "even if I knew how, why SHOULD I help you?"

He paused. It was decidedly unnerving to find himself nose-to-nose with his
formerly much shorter girlfriend, but making demands was the only way he knew
how to act toward girls. It had always worked before.

"All you have to do is throw the ring at me again, but wish everything was
back the way it used to be." She stared at him. "You heard me. Do it. Hey,
Marie, don't make me do anything we'll both regret," he said, trying to stare
her down. "I may be shorter than before, but I'm still a lot stronger than you
are."

"You always were such an asshole with your macho attitude. As if being
stronger and bigger entitled you to push everyone around. Well, you're not
bigger anymore. And as for being stronger, I'm not exactly much to compare
yourself with, am I? You always joked about how weak I was and hounded me to
work out to firm up my body. And you're still trying to intimidate me. What a
pathetic little bully you are."

"You can't talk to me like that!" he replied angrily. To prove it, he grabbed
her hand and squeezed it.

"Owww! You're hurting me! Stop!" She pulled away without success, but instead
of being frightened by his physical threat, she got even angrier. And colder.

"Jesus, if I even wished I had some of your muscle I could ...." She stopped
what she was saying and got a gleam in her eye. At the same moment a wave of
panic crossed Thomas's face.

"Marie, don't!"

"I wish I had a little of your muscle," she said cautiously.

She felt the surge almost immediately. Even better, she saw the look of panic
grow in his eyes as he felt his own body tingle. She smiled slowly and pulled
her hand away again, this time successfully.

"So," she purred. "You think it's OK to threaten or push people around if
you're stronger than they are? Is that what my big, strong, former boyfriend
thinks? Isn't he maybe forgetting something?"

"M-Marie," he stammered. "You know I would never really have ...."

"I DON'T know," she paused, thinking. "A girl can't be too careful. Boys
always try to take advantage. Sometimes with their strength, other times of a
girl's emotions, her wishes and dreams. You know how we silly girls are always
wishing for things, like honesty, sincerity, love and commitment."

"Marie, please! " he cried. "I'm begging you."

"I USED to wish you loved me. I USED to wish we'd stay together. But I don't
anymore. Things change." She fluttered her eyelashes. "You know what I wish
for now?"

"Please, Marie. I made a terrible mistake the way I treated you. But I've
LEARNED, I really have. Please don't take any more from me."

"Oh Thomas, you can't stop a girl from wishing. You can shut her up, threaten
her, throw her out, break up with her, sure, but you can't silence her heart"
She put her hand on his arm. "So, do you want to know what I wish for or don't
you?"

"All right. Tell me, Marie, but--

"Yes, Thomas, I wish I had more of your muscle."

He gasped and backed away, but he couldn't help watching as her shirt began to
tighten even more, riding up her expanding torso to reveal her tummy.
Amazingly, she now had the beginnings of defined abs, even as he saw his own
stomach push forward with the loss of muscle to hold it tight. Her arms began
to show noticeable biceps bulges too.

"Oooooh," she exclaimed, looking at herself. "It looks good and my whole body
feels more alive! I feel so ... so ... powerful. And sexier too. No wonder you
always wanted me to work out. I think I look better, I really do." She flexed
her now ping pong ball-sized muscles. "What do you think? I bet I'd look even
better if my muscles were bigger."

"Stop this," he demanded, desperately, already feeling weaker than he could
remember since he'd matured. His own biceps were barely larger than hers, and
his shirt looked like a sail on him.

"I can't resist, Thomas. It feels and looks so good to be strong," she
replied. "You know it's true! And -- and you hurt me so bad!" She sniffed,
then licked her lips. "I wish you gave me more muscle every time I touched
you."

"NO!" he called, backpedaling away toward the door. He had to get away! She
sprang forward and reached him before he could open it and grabbed him by the
arm. He pulled as hard as he could and almost freed himself, but her touch was
drawing his muscle into her; his arms were weakening quickly, while her
strength was only increasing. He reached for her shoulder to push her away.
One desperate push should do it, and then he'd dash out the door to safety,
but he had to hurry. Her grip was become tighter and tighter, he could even
see the tensed muscles of her forearm growing. He girded his strength for the
effort and pushed hard against her shoulder, but the shove barely moved her;
instead, his arm bent at the elbow. Only too late he realized that the second
point of contact had only increased the rate of transfer. They had already
reached the point where her muscles were as large as his and now hers were
larger, and the disparity was growing.

She was making happy, low-pitched groans of pleasure, a musical accompaniment
to the destruction of his body. She laughed as he pushed again and again, each
successive push weaker than the one before it. Finally, she reeled him in to
her and enveloped him in a bear hug. "Oh no, honey, I can't let you go away
just yet. You have so much to give me. Mmmm. Yes, you've really become such a
giving person! Can you feel my muscles growing all over? I think my legs are
getting particularly strong -- you had such strong legs."

It was true - her jeans had actually started to split from her expanding
muscles. The too-short cuffs were tight around her diamond-shaped calf muscles
and rode higher and higher. Her thighs bulged with power.

He struggled desperately, feeling himself getting ever smaller and weaker. He
was looking up into her eyes now. She let go of him. "And now, for all you've
given me, I think I owe YOU something. Here, take this!" She gave him a little
half slap, which sent him sprawling across the room. It felt like a full
body-blow from a pass rusher and he shook his head groggily. In the process,
his loose pants actually fell down, revealing his thin legs.

She raised her hand to her lips in surprise. "Oh my God! I must be so strong
now. I was hardly even trying," she laughed, pointing. "And just look how
scrawny you've gotten. Do you think you'll still be able to make those long,
hard runs?"

He simply glared and tried to cover up.

"And your arms. Look at your arms."

Before he knew what had happened, she had closed the distance between them.
She grabbed his hand, making him wince. Her grip seemed incredibly strong, and
his ever-weakening efforts to pull away no longer required her even to tense
her muscles. She just held him there, grinning.

"Gee, Thomas," she teased, running her hand along his upper arm, watching it
dwindle. "I don't think you'll be able to make those long passes either. Your
muscles are so small." She let go. "But you know, size isn't everything. I
think I've done enough of this. I wish that touching you won't take your
muscle anymore."

He looked at her gratefully. At last she was seeing reason. She had just been
trying to teach him a lesson. Well it sure had worked. This experience had
certainly changed him. He would NEVER bully anyone again. She held out her
hand. Was this a truce? The bulging muscles in her forearm and biceps
intimidated him, but he had to show her he wasn't afraid of her. He took it
and she pulled him next to her. His face came only up to her chest, and her
arm encircled him, trapping him there.

She was holding him too tightly, suffocating him. He pushed as hard as he
could against her, but compared to the little strength he had left she seemed
all-powerful. It was so frightening being weak. He was completely helpless in
her arms, absolutely subject to her will. Driving home the point she held him
harder, encircling his small biceps with her hand.

Her words weren't encouraging either. "Just LOOK how small they are! So petite
now, just like a girl's, and with a girl's strength too. How does THAT feel?"

How was he supposed to answer? If he said it was awful, then could he expect
her to give him his strength back and go back to being weak? And if he said it
wasn't awful, would she just say she was glad he'd accepted it and now he
should enjoy living with it.

"It ... it feels like I'm not myself, Marie," he said carefully. "It doesn't
feel right for me to be so small."

"Well, size isn't everything," she went on. "Your muscles are still pretty
hard, although I guess they call muscles THAT size 'toned' instead of hard,
isn't that right?" she teased. "You do know how to answer a question, don't
you Thomas?"

"Yes, Marie," he said, trying hard to pacify her. "You're absolutely right."

"Uh huh. And being hard is part of being in shape. I mean, big, soft muscles
just aren't nearly as strong as big, hard muscles, are they? You would know
that, being a jock and all."

"Yes, Marie. But a girl who --

"Oh, no 'buts' about it. I'm right. Some people who look strong with their big
muscles aren't really as strong as others who have taut, wiry muscles. So,
right now, you're probably a lot stronger than you look."

"I guess so," he said, not at all satisfied with this small consolation. He
absolutely hated the way he looked. He always put on muscle fast, but now he'd
lost YEARS of development. And he'd never grow taller! Unless Marie helped
him, he'd be a shrimp for life. But at least she was trying to boost him a
little, instead of putting him down.

"Well, that just won't do. I mean, because it follows from that fact that I'm
not as strong as I look. That just doesn't seem fair to me."

Oh no! he said to himself.

"So, you know what I wish now, Thomas?"

He looked at her in fear. "No Marie!"

"Yes, Thomas, I wish my big muscles had your conditioning!"

Thomas felt a tidal wave of weakness going through him. At the same time, her
body seemed to push outward into him, most of the softness gone except for her
bust and a small area just beneath her skin. But below that was rock-hard
muscle. Even her bust seemed to propel itself outward at him, no doubt from
the added hardness and strength of her pectoral muscles. She stood straighter
too, while he felt himself hunch over, his muscles too weak to hold his body
straight.

"Whew! I actually FELT that. What a rush!" She flexed her arm. "Look at that
peak now! Oh it's so sexy!" She dropped her hand to his biceps. "Gosh, feel
how soft YOURS is. Make a muscle for me, Thomas." When he waited too long, her
voice got more insistent. She squeezed harder, making him cry out and bruising
him. "Make it hard for me now, Thomas."

He tried, he really did. He flexed his once massive biceps as hard as he
could.

"Ooh," she cooed, feeling the slight swelling. "There it is. There's still a
little bit there, even though it's very, very soft. You shouldn't feel SO bad.
You must still have a bit of strength left." She reached over to her desk and
picked up her biology text. "Here, see if you can pick this up."

She handed the thick book to Thomas, who struggled to hold it. His arm
trembled and his face betrayed the horror he felt of barely being able to
carry just one science textbook. "Marie! Look what I'm reduced to! It feels
like it weighs a ton."

"I know. I've always thought so. Isn't it awful to be so weak? I always HATED
having to carry that book around with me. Imagine how I felt when I had three
subjects in a row! And our dorm is so far from the classrooms. Just thinking
about walking that far with my books is making me a little nervous." She
winked at him. "You know, it really CAN be such a long walk sometimes. And you
know how slowly we girls walk, jabbering away about the silliest little things
and stopping to talk to everyone we see, or to look at flowers or to pet cute
little puppies. It could take an hour! So, just to be sure I'm strong enough,
I wish my muscles were just a bit harder."

Thomas groaned, the weight of the book now making him list to the side
slightly, then pulling his arm down as he fought a losing battle to hold it.
"Oh no!" he cried out, as the book dropped to the floor.

"Ooopsie! Well, you won't be able to take any science classes! They all have
books that big. Maybe drama. The plays are usually pretty short, and they're
usually in paperback. And I think there's one for the jocks next semester. Oh,
but I forgot, you're not really a jock anymore, are you?"

"Please Marie, please."

"Oh poor, poor Thomas. What will everybody say? Especially about a former star
quarterback! But you have so many friends, Thomas. They'll help you out I
bet." Thomas doubted that any of them would. All his friends were jocks who,
like him, enjoyed making fun of the lesser beings on campus. "And then all
your girlfriends, they'll want to take care of you, won't they? Won't they
carry your books for you? You did break up with them in the nicest, most
thoughtful way, didn't you? So they'd be your friend afterwards? Or maybe
not?" Marie knew the answer to those questions, and Thomas knew that she knew.

"You can't leave me like this. I'm so weak. I'm totally defenseless. Any of
those girls would be able to beat me up now without breaking a sweat. And they
will too! You can't do this to me." He picked up his arm. "Look at this.
You've left me with hardly have any muscle left at all. The bulge is so tiny
you can barely see it."

"You're right. It's hard to tell you HAVE a biceps. I do feel for you. It
would be so embarrassing to be a boy and to have the smallest arms on campus.
But you know, when some girls flex, you can't see any biceps at all. I'm not
saying they're weaker than you are now; it's the higher fat ratio girls have.
The do have some muscle, but you can't SEE it." She got a gleam in her eye.
"Well, this has gone far enough, I think. I won't leave you like this." She
thought a minute. "I'm going to make your upper arms bigger again, but to do
that, I'd have to give you something instead of you're giving it away, so I'm
going have to cancel the other wish. Is that ok?"

He nodded fervently. At last she was seeing sense.

"OK. I wish that you will no longer be the 'giving' person you've been all
day." She touched him with the ring. "Better?" He nodded, gratefully. The
purple aura around the two of them faded away. "And now I wish that I'll be
able to exchange things in my body with yours, OK?" She touched him with the
ring and smiled. "Good. Now, let's see. I'd guess your arm is about nine
inches around now when you flex. Before I took your muscle, mine was about ten
inches, maybe ten and a half -- of course most of it was feminine fat, not
muscle. It's still there, you know," she said, feeling the soft coating around
her solid muscle. "OK, so I'll make your arms as big as mine were, OK?"

He nodded, grateful for this one small concession. He'd start from there, and
then work out like a demon and grow his muscles from there. He'd always
responded well to exercise before. So long as he had a base of muscle to work
with ....

"Here goes! Your arms will grow to ten and a half, no eleven inches," she
grinned, "thanks to the girlish fat on my arms, while I take all but a sliver
of the biceps you have left -- just enough for you to move your arms!"

"Marie!" he cried as his arms fell to his sides -- just lifting them felt like
a huge effort. He looked down in despair to see that she was right - his arms
were bigger, but they were soft and rounded like a young girl's, with no
muscle definition at all. She stood up, looming over him, and flexed her own
arms, her biceps erupting into jagged twin mounds the size of softballs.

"There, you've gotten bigger, and I've gotten something too!" she cried
happily. "Yep! That's REAL definition now. And no one will be able to see
those little biceps you had left when you flex because they're here! On me!"

Meanwhile, Marie rubbed her arms, running her fingers excitedly over her
muscles. "OOOOOOO! So big and hard. I just love the way they look and feel."
She reached down and picked up her dresser. "Not to mention the fun of being
the strongest woman on campus."

"Marie, you've got to help me," Thomas moaned, sinking back to the floor. He
looked up at her and tried to push himself up, but collapsed on the floor,
tangled in his shirt and unable to unwrap himself. "Marie!"

He stood up shakily, feeling the strain as his legs were barely strong enough
to support his own weight. He tried to pull his pants back up. His arms shook
from the effort. His pants felt like they weighed a ton, but even when he got
them up it was useless - they gaped around his waist by almost a foot, and
nearly a foot of the pants legs remained below his feet on the floor. His
shirt hung on him loosely like a dress, emphasizing his slight build.

Ignoring him, Marie looked at herself in the mirror. "You know, my shirt is
just too tight. I think I've made myself TOO big." She looked down at Thomas.
"How about another exchange? You can take half of the fat I have around my
tummy, hips and thighs, and I'll take half of the muscle you've got left
there. I'd lose a couple of inches that way, since you have so little muscle
left. Mmmmm, yes." She lifted her shirt to reveal her chiseled six-pack abs,
then pushed Thomas's shirt up. "Hey, now you've got a bulge again Thomas. Too
bad it's in your gut. Nice love handles too. But who's going to play with
them?"

He looked at his belly in total despair. "Marie, you've gone WAY overboard. I
know I hurt you. I'm sorry, really, but you just CAN'T leave me like this. I
don't know HOW I'm ever going to build up my strength again. It'll take
years!"

Marie snorted. "You think you'd EVER be able to get your muscle back?"

"I'll work at it. I've always responded to exercise well, but you've GOT to
give me a chance. Give me something to build on. I won't EVER treat anyone the
way I've treated you. I PROMISE. I'll be a different man, really." He tried to
take a step toward her but couldn't manage his weight on just one leg and
stayed in place. "I can't even walk now!"

She shook her head. "That IS bad. You raise a good point Thomas. And it would
probably be a good experience for you to have to start over again and work
your way back to a decent body. It would teach you something." Thomas nodded
fervently in agreement. "But there's another side to the issue. I have a great
body now, but it's so much harder for girls to keep their muscle size and
tone, isn't it? That doesn't seem fair. And what a waste it would be to let
all this gorgeous muscle shrink and get soft again. How about if we exchange
our response to exercise?"

"Marie! You wouldn't!"

She raised her eyebrows. "Maybe not. Maybe I should just take it all. I'll
build muscle like you used to, and you won't respond at all. In exchange, I
could give you ... this little mole I have on my hip. I never liked it
anyway."

"NO!" Thomas wailed and he felt a strange tingle move through his body.
Instinctively, he knew she had done it. Now, he wouldn't be able to build back
no matter how hard he worked out. "My life is over," he said, sadly, his
spindly legs giving out. He collapsed onto the floor.

Marie wasn't paying attention, though. With a feminine grunt, she pulled at
her shirt, the already stretched fabric ripped, unable to withstand her
increased strength, revealing the extent of her transformed body, her broad
shoulders, defined, hard abs and back muscles, and upper arms that resembled a
certain football player's. Her breasts were barely contained by the cups of
her bra, since they seemed to have lifted higher and somehow enlarged from her
general transformation. The straps hung loosely around her shoulders, having
long since given up the fight against her massive chest. Her legs bulged and
rippled, her thighs and calves had doubled in size, and all from his muscle.

Thomas had a vague memory of scenes of the She-Hulk transforming and felt
slightly turned as he gazed up at her, until his consciousness of his own
weakness reasserted itself.

"Marie!" he begged, his voice reduced to a pathetic whine.

She looked down at him and shook her head. "What should I do with you, Thomas?
You're really a mess, you know?" she repeated angrily, then reached towards
him and lifted him off the floor. He hung limply from her hand like a rag
doll, with a soft belly, thin arms and a floppy head. She looked at him with
disgust.

"Don't leave me like this!" he cried out. "I can't live like this!"

She stared at him and frowned. "You know, you're right Thomas. You're
absolutely right. You're so weak, I just don't see how you'd survive the give
and take of daily life anymore. You're so small, so helpless." Her eyes
suddenly flashed. "What was it you used to say about me being so small and
weak? You used to say I was just like a doll. Right?" Thomas froze in mid-nod.
He was in a cartoon again, but this time it wasn't as Elmer Fudd. It was a
Road Runner adventure; he was Wily Coyote, and he could hear the anvil
falling. She picked up one of his arms and watched it slowly fall, his feeble
muscles too tired to keep it up under the weight of his clothes. She giggled
at how he slouched, unable to hold himself straight without being propped up.
"Yeah, that's all you are now, just like a little doll." She picked up the
ring from her desk. "And that's what I wish you'll be," she added, touching
him with the ring. He immediately shrunk to about four inches in height, and
Marie placed him on her desk, his upper torso leaning down until she
straightened him by propping him up against her lamp. He looked back at her
with glazed eyes. "Well do you have anything more to say, Thomas?"

He stared up at her, immobile. She smiled. "I didn't think so," she replied,
patting his leg. She heard a sound and the key turned in the door.

In walked Brandi Mazona, Marie's roommate. Brandi was a petite but very pretty
Italian girl from Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. She had thick raven black hair that
hung halfway down her back, deep brown eyes and bewitching olive skin. She and
Marie had been thrown together in the freshman housing lottery and didn't have
much in common. In fact, they didn't like each other at all. While Marie
primped a lot and hung out with the jocks, Brandi was more ambitious and spent
most of her time studying or in the Science lab. She hated Marie's music, her
constant use of the telephone, her loud friends and the way she left her
things all over the room. She hated the way Marie always kept her out when
Thomas visited. And she especially hated when Marie borrowed her clothes,
because Marie was one size larger than Brandi and always stretched out her
shirts. Undetected by Marie, she'd been spying on them from outside the room
for almost fifteen minutes. Now, Brandi stared at Marie and then at the Thomas
doll on Marie's desk.

"Who are you?" she said pretending confusion as she looked up at the hulking
muscular girl. "Marie?"

"Yes, it's me! And you know Thomas, don't you?"

Brandi looked down at the doll and then up at Marie. "But how --

"Oh isn't he cute? I had it made, so that I could crush it, throw it around,
and stick pins in it!"

"Oh!" Brandi replied. "But, is this really you, Marie? You look like her, but
-- you've grown! You're so big and strong!" She noticed that one of her
favorite shirts lay tattered on the floor. Marie must have been wearing it
when she'd grown. Oooh! Marie made her so mad!

"It's this ring." Marie held up her grandmother's ring. "It turns out it has
magical powers!"

"Really?" She examined the Thomas doll more closely. "Boy, he is so lifelike!
If that's a magic ring, then this is really Thomas, isn't it?" Marie nodded.
impressed by Brandi's quick deduction. "Well. This is amazing. And I have to
say, Marie, you look great!"

Marie smiled. "Gee, thanks! But I --"

"So, tell me, how exactly did you get so big?"

Marie couldn't help herself. "Well, I made a wish about Thomas being a
'giving' person; I threw the ring at him; the ring hit him, and blam, pretty
soon he was 'giving' away all he had! Muscle, size, muscle tone, even his
response to exercise!"

"That easy?" Brandi looked at Marie more closely. "You're so beautiful now,
Marie," she said.

"You really think so?" Brandi nodded in affirmation. "I was wondering maybe I
look too strong for a girl."

"Oh no! I think you look WONDERFUL."

"Oh! Thank you so much Brandi!" Marie said, hugging the much smaller girl. She
smiled broadly, surprised and flattered that Brandi was complimenting her so
openly. She'd always thought Brandi had looked down on her, but now her
admiration made her feel like singing. "Hey, feel these muscles, Brandi, see
how they feel with all of his muscle tone."

"They're incredible! You must feel great!" She stepped back. "Can I see the
ring?"

"Sure," Marie replied.

Brandi studied it in the light, shook her head and sighed. "I've always wanted
to be an amazon like you are now. I wish I had everything you gained from
Thomas, Marie," she said, dropping it in Marie's hand, but then grabbing it
back. Suddenly, Marie reverted to her original size and shape, while Brandi's
body ballooned outward with muscle, bursting through her blouse, her bra and
her skirt, while her panty hose stretched to the breaking point.

Marie looked down at herself in disbelief. She had her old body again. "HEY,
what do you think you're DOING, Brandi? Those are my muscles!"

"What do YOU think I'm doing, Ma-rie?" Brandi laughed and admired the size of
her muscles. "Nice!" Marie tried to grab the ring back, but Brandi closed it
in her hand, laughing as Marie tried futilely to pry open Brandi's fingers.
"YOUR muscles? What a waste THAT would be." Marie was still tugging at her
hand. "Enough of this," she said and gave Marie a light push. Marie flew
across the room, hitting the wall. She stood dazed, clutching her shoulder in
pain.

"Brandi, that hurt! And that's my ring!" she said, still dizzy. "You can't
steal my ring. My grandmother gave it to me!"

"It's wasted on you, bimbo. Go back to those dumb jocks and find yourself
another asshole boyfriend. As for me, I'm big now, but I can be a LOT bigger!"
She grabbed Marie's arm. "But I don't want to be a thief, Marie. I wish you
WANTED to give me this ring and all your power," she sneered, touching Marie
with the stone and then dropping it in her hand.

Marie looked down at the ring. "Oh, Brandi, you really HAVE to take this ring.
It goes so well with your eyes. I just know my grandmother would have wanted
YOU to have it and all of its magical power. And you're so much smarter and
better than me, it's only right that you should be the strong one too!"

Brandi smiled. "Why thanks, Marie," she said, taking it. "Hey, see you around,
girlfriend."

Marie looked at her uncertainly, not knowing exactly why she'd given up the
ring. "Yeah, uh, see you Brandi."

"Oh you will. I'll be hard to miss!" Brandi turned to her on her way out. "You
won't tell anyone about the ring, will you Marie?" She pushed up against her,
trapping her against the wall, her face at the level of Brandi's massive
chest. "You don't want to be another doll, like Thomas here, do you?"

She looked up at Brandi, shaking. "N-n-n-no. Y-y-ou wouldn't --

"Just remember, Marie darling. I can do it with a flick of my wrist." She
smiled and pressed the ring against Marie's cheek. "Bye now!"