Transfer Student
by Mark (MARKNEW742@aol.com)
A high school biology class is the unwitting subject of an experiment
Update: 06/10/1997 to marknew


1


We could hardly have believed our luck.  School had started up
again just last week, and we were already wasting a day on a
field trip.  It wasn't the most exciting destination -- the local
teaching hospital -- but wandering around the halls and getting
lectures on being a doctor or nurse or researcher still beat the
hell out of sitting in class and piling up homework assignments.


So there we were near the end of the day, my tenth grade biology
class, honors of course, in the Columbia Hospital research lab
listening to some research doctor expound about a new treatment
for tissue regeneration.  By now, the novelty of the day off from
class was wearing off.  Sure we were the honors class, but the
doctor was talking to us as if we'd already been through her
graduate course, running through equations and formulas and
physical constants so long that I was surprised she hadn't run
out of letters.  Everyone was getting pretty restless, waiting
for her to show us how it could repair damaged tissue.  Even
Howie Markam, the brains of the class, and my best friend, had
stopped taking notes and was looking around the room, his eyes
slowly succumbing, as ever, to the overwhelming gravity emitted
by the body of Carla Walters, everyone's dream girl.


Ah, Carla Walters!  Obviously a prime candidate for the baby
switched at birth.  Her mother was Dr. Claudette Grenville,
Distinguished Professor of Microbiology at Columbia University;
she was so renowned that she didn't even have to teach classes,
just run her research projects and apply for grants, which were
invariably accepted.  Her father was Carl Walters, senior
litigation partner at Valkyr, Ling, Swingo, Kwon and LeMuscle,
the most overpowering law firm in New York.  Both were brilliant,
and, well, as ugly as you can imagine.


Carla on the other hand was just slightly better than average in
the brain department, but by some genetic quirk, was blessed with
a body that would drive a goddess to ruinous jealousy.  At the
age of fifteen she was already 5'11", taller than most of the
boys in class, and moved with the grace of a queen.  Her legs
were long (endlessly long it seemed to me), strong and shapely. 
Her hips would be slim for a woman of her size, but with her
small waist they looked positively voluptuous.  And she had
breasts.  


From the age of eleven she had breasts, not just markers for
future development, but fist-sized balls that stretched her
sweaters when she turned around in class to pass a note and
bounced when she ran.   Of course, they didn't stop growing then. 
When she was twelve, she already had larger breasts than Miss
Markowski, who had enjoyed the horny stares of teenage boys in
her English class, and the envious glances of the girls, ever
since she had arrived at our school five years ago, straight from
North Carolina Teachers College-- the belle who could make the
North rise again and again.  But on the first day of seventh
grade, Miss Markowski looked down at Carla and realized she was
matched, inch by inch, but a younger and firmer rival.  Oh she
tried.  Her necklines got lower, her sweaters tighter.  She
stretched more often in class, feigning tiredness from her adult
late nights, the dates all seventh grade students before us used
to fantasize about.  But what could she do?  She was fully
formed, while Carla's body had merely paused briefly while
considering its next move.   


It was after our two week Christmas break that Miss Markowski had
to admit defeat.  Carla had missed the previous two weeks of
class to go with her family for their annual month in the
Galapagos, and Miss Markowski was starting to enjoy the boys'
attention once again.  Somehow, she and Carla happened to wear
the same light purple fuzzy sweater (how could I ever forget it)
to school the first day back.  Miss Markowski was there first,
her arm stretched high against the blackboard as she wrote out a
Keats couplet for us to ponder, while all of us boys stared
longingly at her clearly defined bust, waiting for it to brush
softly against the chalk-filled board to accent her sweater in
yellow dust, when suddenly we heard a soft "oooh" from one of the
girls and turned to the door.


There was Carla, walking ever so slowly into the room, pretending
modesty, but boldly showing off the largest tits any of us had
ever seen in person.  There they were, full womanly breasts, but
on a twelve year old girl with a 21" waist.  We all moaned,
glanced over at Miss Markowski and then abandoned her to gaze on
our classmate.  Poor Miss Markowski seemed to deflate in front of
our eyes.  Anyone could see how Carla just pushed her sweater out
so much farther than our teacher, but it wasn't only the size.  I
know now, as Miss Markowski must have known then, that Carla had
not only size but exceptionally strong pectoral muscles to
support her billowing breasts.  Carla's breasts seemed almost to
float in the air under her sweater, jiggling gently with each
step she took as she walked past the class and sat in the
furthest seat, giving us all the longest possible chance to adore
her, and forcing us to declare our devotion by craning our necks
each time we wanted to behold her once again.


After that, Miss Markowski always wore jackets to class.  Later
that year, she got married and left us.


But I digress.  Carla of course continued to grow and develop
physically.  She not only had an outrageous figure, but she was
beautiful in every other respect.  Luscious green eyes, lustrous
brown hair, pure, silky skin, dazzling teeth.  What's more, she
was an excellent athlete, when she bothered.  She could outrun
half of the boys in school, perform gymnastic tricks and dance
like a demon.  I even saw her beat a few guys arm wrestling in
seventh grade, but that was before the guys started really
maturing.  Even as a freshman she could have led the cheerleading
squad, but her parents wouldn't allow it, so she cheered for the
JV team, and as a result the crowds at that game were often
larger than for the varsity team.


I wish I could say that she was an angel in other respects too,
but that would be a lie.  The fact was, Carla was not very nice,
not to me, not to her teachers, not to anyone.  She knew she
didn't have to step an inch out of her way and she would still
get whatever she wanted.  And as far as I know, no boy ever
complained about what Carla did to them, only about what she
didn't do.


Carla had slipped into our class only because the scheduling let
her get out in time for her dance class, and no one, not even the
principal, ever wanted to say no to Carla.  She always found some
boy who was willing to "help" her with lab reports, so she
managed passing grades, which was all she needed.


I should say a little about the rest of our class, although it's
always hard to think of anyone else once Carla enters the
picture.  Claire Boynton was my favorite.  I liked her the day
she moved to our school in fifth grade.  We'd been sort of
friends since then, and now that we were in our teens we were
edging closer and closer to dating.  She was sharp, had a great
sense of humor and best of all, could talk to me like, well, like
she wasn't a girl, but a normal person.  She wasn't a knockout
like Carla.  She was about 5'4" with a petite figure, but her
breasts were visible, and probably still growing.  Who knows what
they'd be like in three years, when she was eighteen?  I liked
her face, a cute nose and a few freckles, and her dark hair was,
well, I don't know, it was her.  I guess you can tell I liked her
a lot and as far as I could tell, she liked me too.


Like most honors science classes, we were pretty thin on girls. 
Wendy Martin was a transfer student, a quiet, tall, awkward girl
who loved to dissect frogs and pretty much kept to herself behind
her thick glasses.  She never said anything, not in class at
least, and I'd heard that he dad was some kind of rich recluse. 
Howie said she was probably like one of those girls in the movies
who would take off her glasses and get a makeover from somebody
and turn out to be gorgeous, and deadly, but I couldn't see it. 
She did have nice tits, but she always wore loose tops or
jackets, so you never could really see them.  Claire told me that
she did some kind of work at the Hospital after school but nobody
knew what it was.   


Melody Brewer was a bright girl who despite surviving as the only
girl out of eight siblings managed to be unusually sensitive to
blood and guts and probably should have stayed out of biology
classes.  She was always fainting or running out of class to
throw up.  Torturing her made lab classes exciting, especially
with the overrepresentation of boys in the class who would do
anything to a girl to get her attention.  


Bonnie Guntzer was a friendly blond, who was pretty much an all
around star, good at academics, sports and had a million friends. 
Between the three seasons of sports and all the parties she
organized, it was hard to believe she had time for studies, but
she was in the top 10% of the school.


I didn't pay much attention to the eighteen guys in the class.  I
wanted to be a writer, not a science jock, so I didn't hang out
with them.  About half of them were Howie's buddies, although
they were even nerdier than Howie and without his sense of humor. 
I'd find one or two of them over at Howie's every now and then,
playing on his computer, trying to break into the Department of
Defense, from what I could see.  Howie would usually kick them
out once I got there, so we could talk about girls or other neat
stuff, but I could see that if it weren't for me, Howie would
probably spend all of his time with them and become just like
them.  I sort of made it a personal mission to prevent that from
happening.  Another bunch were regular guys, I guess, but they
were mostly rich kids from another part of town, the Hills, with
their own tennis courts and swimming pools.  They kind of
dominated those sports at school and would have new sports cars
as soon as they had their licenses.  I didn't have much in common
with them.


Johnny Kingman was the one guy in class from the Harbour who I
really hated.  He was about three inches bigger than me, probably
about 6' already, and he walked around like he'd already been
admitted to Harvard.  He thought all the girls loved him,
although neither Carla nor Claire would give him the time of day. 
Sadly though, he was probably right that most of the girls in
tenth grade thought he was good looking.  And the fact was, with
his grades, plus being on three school teams, he probably would
end up at Harvard.  But he was a Class A jerk.


Anyway, I was describing the research talk.  The class was
standing around a very impressive-looking machine: the boys in
front, gawking at the dials and buttons and the girls farther
back, whispering and chewing gum, except for Wendy who seemed
very agitated and impatient.  Suddenly we noticed Carla look up
and wave, and saw the front line of the football standing at the
door pointing at her.  The doctor wasn't used to high school
antics, and looked very annoyed, but instead of shooing them
away, she walked around and opened the door, letting the kids
inside, welcoming them in fact.  I guess she figured that would
end the disruption, and in a way it did.  They stood around
Carla, ogling her in the back of the room and blocking her from
view while the rest of us resumed our bored attention to the
lecture.


Just then, I realized that the two cans of Coke I'd scored from
the hospital cafeteria were about to explode my bladder and I
asked to be excused for a moment.  The doctor sighed and warned
me that I would miss the demonstration if I didn't hurry back,
but I shrugged and said it was urgent, so she let me go.  Well,
without going into too much detail, my trip to the men's room
took longer than I'd planned.  The rest of what happened I found
out later from Claire and Howie.


Apparently, once I'd left, the football guys started getting
rowdy in the back of the room.  The doctor told them twice to be
quiet, but gave up and decided to speed through the rest of her
presentation.  She fiddled with the machine and then left the
room to turn it on.  Nothing happened, and she came back in and
looked at it, a bit puzzled.  She fiddled with it, looked around
a little embarrassed and left again.  Whatever she did, when she
turned it on this time, instead of shining a tight red beam at
the sample of cells, as she had explained, it emitted a blue
light all over the room, then shorted out in a shower of sparks. 
The doctor walked in looking concerned and apologized, especially
when the guys in the front all fainted.  She asked some of the
others to help them up, and then wanted to know whether anyone
felt sick.  A couple of the guys said they felt a little funny,
but most of the others said they were ok or were too afraid to
say anything.  Howie said that he and most of his friends felt a
little dizzy, but he's sort of a hypochondriac.  Claire told me
she felt fine and that Howie just had too much imagination, so I
figured it was nothing and that I'd just missed some neat
fireworks.  She also said that Wendy seemed really impressed by
the whole thing and even laughed, which would be the first time
since she had joined the class that she'd as much as smiled.


2


It was about a month after our field trip that Claire and I had
our own first "field trip."  We'd both gone to a Friday night
football game, for want of anything better to do in town, and
cheered our team on, but we secretly enjoyed watching our
ineffective front line let the pass rushers through and pulverize
good old Johnny Kingman again and again. Poor Johnny seemed to be
having a bit of an off day too.  His passes fell short and he
didn't run through tackles the way he had on the middle school
intramural teams.  Of course, the interschool play was a tougher
level.  But we could see how angry he was at the lack of
protection his line was giving him and he bawled them out a
couple of times.  So did the coach, who told them that either
they buckle down in the weight room or they can forget about
playing.  Fortunately our defense held well, and we ended up
beating Southside 6-3.


At halftime, we watched Carla lead the cheering, bouncing higher
than ever.  I took the opportunity to slip my arm around Claire
and breathed a great sigh of relief when not only did she not
shrug it off, but she gave me a look like what took you so long
and snuggled against me.  I got a hard on so fast that I thought
I was going to bust through my jeans.  That Claire!   Somehow,
she noticed and jerked me off by putting her hand in my jacket
pocket and rubbing me up and down.  I couldn't believe she knew
what to do, but then Claire always knew a lot of practical things
you wouldn't expect a girl to know.  Anyway, I could have knelt
down and worshiped her in gratitude, but she just winked at me
and smiled and I knew I was totally and forever in love.  After
the game, we found a dark corner of the field and spent a couple
of hours learning all there was to know about each other's
tongues and a few other parts of our upper bodies, before Claire
suggested that we'd have more fun in the future if our fingers
weren't frostbitten and I walked her home.  Maybe she walked, but
I floated all the way.


3


I have to say that I was just a bit oblivious to the world around
me for the next month.  Claire and I were inseparable, so much so
that even the principal had to warn us about too much
"togetherness" in the hall, and I heard one of the fundamentalist
churches in town mentioned us as one of the reasons for home
schooling.  Actually, we were pretty innocent.  We weren't doing
"it," but we did have our hands all over each other most of the
time.  


I frankly was totally amazed by her body.  I never thought she
had particularly large breasts, but once she'd take her bra off,
they always seemed so much larger than I'd remembered.  I could
spend hours kissing and feeling and sucking them, and she didn't
seem to mind at all.  I learned a lot of other things too.  I was
shocked at how strong a girl's sex drive could be.  I'd always
sort of assumed that girls let guys feel them up just to be nice,
but she showed me how to touch her "down there" and then she just
went wild.  I thought coming made me crazy, but she could hardly
keep quiet, much less keep still, so that between shushing her to
keep her mother off our back, and not losing my place inside her,
I had to work really hard.  But it was all so wonderful, so so
wonderful.


The other surprising thing about Claire's body was that she was a
lot stronger than I'd thought.  Not stronger than me, of course,
and, well, I'd never really looked terribly closely at her arms,
but now, when she'd take her shirt off for me I noticed that her
upper arms weren't smooth like most girls I knew.  She had a nice
little curve in her arm, which got bigger when she'd push her
hair back or hold me.  I tried to feel it once, and she pulled
away and frowned, which was unusual for her.  So I asked her what
was wrong.


She shrugged.  "I don't know.  I'm a little self-conscious about
it."


"Why?  You let me see your tits and --


"Breasts Mark.  Please.  I don't like the word 'tits'.  It sounds
like something in a porn magazine."


"But it's just a -- OK, breasts then, but you let me see and
touch them and that doesn't bother you.  I'm just curious.  I
never thought of you as a jock."


"Well I'm not, I mean, I'm just kind of average for a girl.  You
know that.  It's just --" she blushed, "I don't know.  I guess I
shouldn't be embarrassed, especially not in front of you."


"Of course not," I smiled.


"It doesn't bother you?"


"Why should it?  It's not like your getting fat or anything."


"Great!  So you wouldn't like me as must if I were fat."


"No, no, that's not what I meant at all.  You're being so
touchy!"


Well," she looked a little reassured, "it's just that I don't
know why I'm getting them.  I don't work out with weights or
anything.  And my Mom isn't athletic, although my Dad is.  Still,
I've just never thought of myself that way."


"Maybe it's just your body maturing.  Miss Helpern said in Health
class that even girls get some muscle tone when they mature."


"I guess so.  You have no idea how unnerving it is for a girl
when her body starts changing.  I mean, everything is
different.."


"Yeah, I do notice those things, you know.  I think it's pretty
cool."


She smiled.  "Shut up, Mark!"


"At least you're not growing a mustache like me!"  I grinned and
kissed her upper lip and she put her arms around me and tried to
wrestle me down.  She knocked me off balance, and I had to work a
bit, but I got the upper hand and pinned her, then buried my head
in her breasts and played until it was time to do our homework.


I wish I could remember more about what was going on in school
that October and November, but the truth was that I was so head
over heels in love with Claire that I could hardly pay attention
to anything outside of our little world.  It's a good thing for
my transcript that Claire was a good student too, and was pretty
disciplined, so that we would study together a lot.  Keeping up
with work was one way of being together.  My grades dropped a
little, but not too much, and I was really happy, and my parents
liked Claire, so they didn't get on me for spending too much time
with her.  Other than the usual lectures about being "careful,"
which at this point anyway, was still a bit premature, they
didn't get in our way.


There was one funny thing that happened, though, which given the
way things developed later, I should tell you about.  It started
in biology lab class, where we were dissecting worms to examine
their digestive system.  Howie and I used to do it for fun, with
live worms of course, so we knew all there was to know about them
and breezed through the exam and the write-up.  Poor Melody
Brewer though was having trouble and her lab partner, Scott
Hebbs, one of Howie's friends, was doing as little as he could to
help her.  He pretended to be clumsy with the scissors and ended
up waving the worm in her face so many times, and making her
scream over and over, that the whole class was in hysterics,
until Miss Tucker took the worm away from Scott and sent Melody
to the girls' room to calm herself.  


Poor Melody never made it back to biology class that day, but
she'd recovered enough to be at lunch, two periods later.  I came
down the line with Howie and Scott, and they motioned to me to
follow them and sit behind Melody.  When she leaned over to
whisper something to a girl next to her Scott leaned back and
dropped a live worm into her plate of spaghetti, and it promptly
buried itself in the sauce, more deeply than we'd ever hoped. 
Melody turned back and started eating again, when suddenly we
heard a terrific scream.  The live worm had surfaced and was
starting to crawl up Melody's fork toward her fingers.


She turned around immediately and started screaming at Scott, who
just laughed her off and told her she was a wimpy girl.  Well,
Melody was sensitive, but she wasn't a wimp. She was really
steamed and she wasn't afraid to fight back.  She took her
spaghetti plate and right away dumped it onto Scott's shirt.  By
now, a crowd was forming, egging Scott on to do something back to
her, so he took his full glass of Coke and spilled it down the
front of Melody's blouse.  That was great, because she was
wearing something pretty sheer, and you could immediately see
right through her blouse to her bra!  A loud "Wooooo!" went up
from the crowd, and Melody blushed and sputtered, and then to top
it off, Scott pulled another live worm out of his pocket and
started dangling it in Melody's face.  Well, she just screamed
and went totally bonkers, bringing her hand around and knocking
the worm out of Scott's fingers.  


I knew Scott, and he had a thing about getting hit.  It drove him
crazy, whether it was a friendly tap on the back, a push by a
senior twice his size, or a well-deserved slap by a girl he'd
pissed off.  He just saw red.  He looked down, saw the first worm
on his shirt amidst the spaghetti, picked it up and stuffed it
inside Melody's collar. She screamed again and tried to shake it
off, and then slapped Scott in the face.  


He glared at her, totally enraged, and hit her back.  Now this
was getting a little ugly.  Some kids yelled to break it up, and
the ancient woman who was the lunchroom monitor, sitting across
the room, was slowly getting up to see what the crowd was up to,
raised her voice.  Melody was shaking, trying to get the worm
off, but only managed to make it slither down her blouse.  Then
she screamed again and ripped open her blouse, sending a couple
of buttons flying and the boys in the crowd whooping again while
she furiously brushed it off her skin.  Scott figured he had the
upper hand now and reared his head back and laughed, but Melody
was so mad that once she freed herself of the worm, she balled
her fists,  reached back and punched Scott in the stomach. Scott
went "ufff" and his head pitched forward against her.  She shoved
him away, hard, into the crowd. Scott picked himself and ran back
at her, but amazingly, she stuck her arm straight out and held
him away from her.  I think she even surprised herself.  She
certainly surprised Scott, who tried to get closer but was
completely stymied, so instead, he got ready to give her a
roundhouse punch, using his longer arms, but she saw it coming
and grabbed Scott's wrist with her other hand and stopped him
cold.  Scott struggled to get free, but he was caught like a bug
in a spider's web.  Now the girls started laughing, and Johnny
Kingman, who was never far from trouble, called out, "Hey Scott,
looks like YOU'RE the wimp of the day!"  Just then, the lunchroom
monitor finally broke through the crowd and hauled them both off
to the principal's office for some serious detention.  As they
disappeared through the hall, I could see Melody raising her
fists in a triumphant double biceps pose and saw that she did
indeed have some real muscles there.  I had never imagined any
girl other than Bonnie or some of those Olympic track stars
having biceps like that.


After that, Howie and his friends didn't bother Melody nearly as
much.



4


I slowly woke out of my initial total infatuation phase in early
December, and when I did, Johnny was no longer our starting
quarterback.  In fact, he rarely was playing much anymore.  First
he started shying away from running with the ball, standing in
the pocket hoping that his front line could hold off the rush,
because the few times he had to scramble he got pulled down at
the first contact.  Then his arm just didn't have the old zing
and he started getting intercepted a lot.  Finally, the coach
brought in Marty Bing.  He wasn't as good as Johnny had been in
the beginning of the year, but he was a heap better than he was
now.  We heard that Johnny's folks sent him to the Mayo Clinic
for tests, just like professional players, but we didn't hear
that he had any kind of disease.  He was just a bit quieter
around school now, and I for one had no complaint about that.


The funny thing was that our pass defense was also slipping away. 
I'd see those guys in the weight room, pounding the machines
after hours after the coach screamed at them for not following
the program.  Then, Andy Brown and Curt Fein left the team.  Sal
Marino moved to the safety position.  The last guy, Bud Grainger,
who was the biggest of the four, still faced off, week after
week, but everyone could see he'd lost his edge.


I kind of put two and two together and talked to Howie about the
fact that the five football players who were having problems were
all in that hospital room when the machine acted up.  He
shrugged.


"I'm fine," he said quickly.


"Yeah, but don't you think it's weird?"


Howie shook his head.  "These guys probably just developed early. 
Now other guys are catching up and passing them.  It seems
natural to me.  Why are you worrying about them?"


"I don't care about them.  I care about you, and Claire."


"Why is she sick or something?  You didn't mention that." He
looked interested, at last.


"No, no.  She's fine.  Great actually."


"Oh," he replied, deflated.  "Well, so am I.  Just like you.  So
what are you worrying about?  Hey, not to say anything against
your girlfriend, but you probably haven't even noticed Carla
lately.  Man, she gets more spectacular everyday.  Her tits are
just exploding out of her chest.  And I could swear she's stopped
wearing a bra.  I thought I saw her nipples right through her
shirt!"


"Not tits, Howie, breasts."


He shot me a look.  "Is that something from Claire?  Well, maybe
Claire has breasts instead of tits, but take it from me, Carla
has TITS!!  So did you see it too?"


I gulped.  I was a little embarrassed about it, but I was staring
at Carla too today.  It made me feel a little guilty toward
Claire, but I nodded.


"I don't know what that girl has, but everything about her gets
more and more incredible every day.  Did you look at her legs?  I
mean, they might even be too shapely.  But her figure, it makes
hourglasses look flat.  Am I right?"


"Yeah."


"You don't sound too enthusiastic."


"I just feel a little disloyal, you know, to Claire."


Howie glared at me.  "I knew this would happen.  We've been
friends since first grade, and in one month, Claire's completely
taken you over.  Fine.  Hey, I'm going over to Bradley's.  I'm
sure you've got something else to do too."


"Howie!"


"Hey, it's ok.  I understand. She's got bigger tits than I do." 
He pretended to sashay back and forth down the room and made
kissing noises at me.  I looked at him closely.  Yeah, and bigger
muscles and brains too, I thought.  I made a face, then left.


5


I called Claire, but her mom said she was working on a project at
school and I walked back to find her.  Heading past the gym, I
heard Buddy Grainger in the weight room, screaming out his reps. 
He sounded pretty angry.  He wasn't that bad a guy, I mean, even
though he kind of a moron, and I poked my head in.


"Hey Bud, what's the matter?"


He looked up.  "Oh, hullo Mark.  You comin' in to use the
weights?"


"No, I came back to school to look for Claire. Why were you
screaming?"


"'Cause I'm so damn pissed at myself.  Like I just hit a wall in
training, and I'm never gonna get any stronger.  Like, I used to
work hard and then maybe I'd lift another ten or fifteen pounds
every week, or do more reps, but you know the last coupla'
months, whatever I do, I can't increase it by more than a coupla'
pounds.  Coach thinks I'm slackin' off, and maybe he's right,
'cause I'm sure he knows, but I feel like I'm working as hard as
ever.  Harder maybe."


"No kidding?  Have you seen a doctor?"


"Yeah, like Kingman did but just the usual family doc.  He said
there's nothin' wrong with me and all I ought to do was cut out
so much partyin'. Hey, but he's fifty, I should be able to party
as much as I want.  But still, I can swear I'm gettin' weaker.  
I mean, the weights don't lie, right?


"I guess not, but maybe it's your technique.  Or maybe you're
trying too hard."


Just then, I heard some laughter at the door.  "Hey look, the
last one of the fag four!"  It was Carla, standing with two other
cheerleaders in the costumes.  They all tittered.


"Hey, cut it out Carla."


Michelle Gunderson replied, "You're the one who's gonna get cut
Buddy.  I heard coach talking.  He says you aren't trying anymore
and he's going to make room for the guys who do."


"Hey, I am too tryin'!   What do you think I'm doing?"


"Sounds like you're gabbing with Mark," added Susie Hansen,
"chatting away just like a girl!"


"I just stopped for a --.  Hey, c'mon, give a guy a break.  I've
been workin' here for an hour.  Look at me.  I'm as sweaty as
they come."


Carla signaled to them and they pranced into the weight room. 
"Uggh!  He's right!  You guys should put one of those air
freshener sticks in here!"  Michelle said.  She walked over to
the weight machine.  "Only 160!  You're supposed to be up to 220
by now!  We saw the chart.  You're never going to be able to stop
Bruiser Callahan on Friday!"


"Hey, you think I don't know that!  Why do ya think I'm workin'
so hard?"


"Now girls," Carla said, wagging her finger in a mock lecture,
"we should leave Buddy to his work.  I'm sure if he keeps trying,
he'll do a little better.  Maybe even someday he'll be strong
enough to be a cheerleader!"  The girls all giggled.


"Hey, I don't like that.  You're supposed to be on our side! 
What the fuck are you talkin' about!"


Susie put her hands on her hips.  "Carla's really strong, so
we've been practicing some new cheers to show her off.  Maybe if
coach benches you, you can watch on Friday!"


"Oh, I'm sure I'd be impressed!  Those pom-poms must be really
heavy!"


"It's not pom-poms, dummy!  It's us!"  Michelle countered.


Buddy looked over at Carla.  She said frostily, "Don't forget
Buddy, I beat you in arm wrestling a few years ago.  If you don't
work harder, maybe I'll do it again!"


"Yeah, right!"


"You don't believe me?"  Carla walked over to the weight machine. 
"I'll bet you I can lift weights easier than you can."


Buddy smiled.  "Oh yeah?  You're on, any day!  But first, what
kinda' stakes?


"If I win, you have to wear a cheerleaders costume at half time
and help with the cheers."


Buddy's eyes went to the ceiling.  "Oh right, sure.  Well, that's
ok because I'm going to win.  And when I win, uh, you have to
take your top off during halftime.  On the field, and in front of
the team bench!  And make sure we all kin see!"


Michelle and Susie pretended to look shocked.  I smiled.


"Well this is one game I'm sure not going to miss!" I said.


"Oh?" Carla said cooly.  "Does the thought of seeing Buddy in a
skirt give you a hard on?"


I just shook my head.  "C'mon Buddy. You're about to become the
most popular guy in the school!"  He smiled, almost licking his
lips at the thought of seeing Carla half-dressed.


"You're on.  Mark and Susie can be the judges.  You go first.
Pick the weight"


"Ok."  Buddy moved the key.  "An even two hundred."  He settled
himself under next to the bar and wiped his hands, then grabbed
the bar and slowly pulled it up, holding it for a few seconds,
then letting it go down slowly, a little shakily.   "Your turn,
Carla.   Let's see you move it an inch!" he said smugly.


She gave him a brief toothy smile, then walked over to the
machine, daintily wagging her perfect ass.  I looked back and saw
a small crowd gathered by the door.  Carla pretended she didn't
see them and stood in front of the bar, a ninety degree angle to
me, displaying her spectacular figure in full profile.  She
gripped the bar and then, in one clean easy motion, pulled it to
her shoulders and held it there for fifteen seconds, her arms
straight and as solid as a rock.  Then eased it back down


Buddy's jaw dropped.  "She won!  She won!" Susie cried out.  "It
was obvious."  Buddy looked at me and I held out my hands to say,
"what can I say?"  I looked over at the doorway, and saw the
girls cheering, the guys staring in disbelief.


Carla slapped her hands together, as if to wipe off the sweat
from the bar, and pointed at Buddy, letting him know she had his
number.  "I'll send your skirt over tomorrow, Buddy.  You might
have to take it out a little in the waist, so I hope you know how
to sew.  C'mon girls, it stinks in here!"


The crowd parted for her like she was royalty, and then melted
away.  I stayed with Buddy, who was still in shock.  "She lifted
it so easily.  How'd she do that?"


"I don't know, Buddy, but you know Carla."


"Yeah, I guess.  She was always more of a jock than you'd think,
but to think that a girl with a body like that could be stronger
than I am!  I gotta get serious, like Coach said."  He shook his
head and sat down at the machine to grind out more repetitions.


I gave him a slap on the back and left to look for Claire, but I
couldn't find her and figured I must have missed her while I was
in the weight room.


6


The next day, the whole grade was talking about Carla outlifting
Buddy.  The later it got, the wilder the stories sounded.  In the
morning, the story was that Carla had lifted 250 pounds after
Buddy failed to lift 200.  At lunch, I heard a bunch of freshman
arguing about whether Carla was going to play fullback or center
for the football team.  Then, before the last period, one kid
asked me if was really true that Carla had picked Buddy up with
one hand and threw him across the room so hard that he crashed
through the wall.  I told him he was crazy, and that he could
check the wall of the weight room for himself if he didn't
believe me.  He then told me I was part of a conspiracy to cover
this up, and that I must think he's a fool not to know how
quickly walls can be repaired and repainted.  I just walked away,
but I was getting pretty worked up, especially because I hadn't
seen Claire for a whole day now and was dying to talk to her. 
Fortunately, on Wednesdays biology class was the last class of
the day, and I'd see her there, so I went to the empty classroom
early, hoping she'd be early too.


But Claire was not to be found.  Carla was, and naturally
everyone was crowded around her desk, asking her to tell again
and again the story of what happened in the weight room.  I could
see right away where some of the strange tales had come from. 
She wasn't the least bit shy about making stuff up and laughing
when they believed her.


"So right there and then, I told Buddy that he was a weak little
sissy, and that I could pin him using just one arm.  He started
getting fresh and cursing me, so I put my right arm behind my
back" (which she demonstrated to great effect, displaying her
breasts even more dramatically than usual) "and put my left hand
on his chest and pushed him right against the wall and told him I
wouldn't stop until he said he was sorry.  He tried to get away,
but I held him there, like a bad little boy, until he begged for
mercy because he couldn't even breathe!  So then I let him go,
but not before he had to promise to wear a skirt at the football
game.  You'll see him do it too!"


"That's not what happened, Carla, and you know it!" I said.


Carla spun around to face me, and looked flustered for a moment. 
Then she cocked her head and twisted her body a little, bending
in ways that looked physically impossible to me, but were
instinctive for her, and incredibly sexy, and said, "So you think
I couldn't do that if I wanted to?"  She sauntered over to me
slowly until she reached my desk at the end of the row.


"I-I-I don't know what you can do, Carla," I stammered, unnerved
by her raw sensual power.  "But I know what happened yesterday. 
I was there, remember?"


"Oh yes, I remember perfectly."  She held out her hand and with
the tips of her long, elegant fingers lightly stroked my chest
with one finger, then two.  I could feel an instant erection
erupt and struggle to burst through my jeans, and I shifted my
legs slightly to give it more room, but it was hopeless.  I
prayed that Claire would be very late for class.


She put her four fingers on my chest, and then suddenly shoved me
against the wall, holding me pinned against it with her left hand
while she lifted her right lazily in the air, her forefinger
extended as if she were checking the direction of the wind.  I
tried to pull myself out, but the pressure of her hand was
collapsing my chest and I couldn't breathe.


"You see, Mark, it could have happened, and maybe it did, after
you left.  What do you think?"  I tried to answer, but my lungs
were empty and I couldn't make a sound.  "Just nod if you're
having trouble talking, ok?" she taunted.  I nodded quickly, and
she removed her hand.


I took a few urgent breaths, then collapsed into my seat, while
Carla turned neatly and waved her lean round behind in my face as
she returned to her desk and the adoration of the awestruck
crowd.


Just then, Wendy Martin, who never said anything, ran up to Carla
and embraced her.  "Oh Carla!  You're so beautiful, so wonderful,
and so strong!  You're just magnificent!  I love you so much!" 
Carla was too shocked to say anything or even to move.  "Oh you
are my model, my dream!  I can't hold it in any longer.  And now
you're more special than I'd ever imagined.  You must be stronger
than any boy!  Oh I love you so much!"  She threw her arms around
her and kissed her right on the lips.  This was too much for
Carla, who threw Wendy off her and backed away.  Wendy looked up
at her, eyes moist.  "Oh it doesn't matter to me what you do. 
I've declared myself for you!  In front of everyone," She turned
around and looked at the rest of the class  "So what if you all
know!  I couldn't care less!"  She stood up gazing at Carla and
then ran to the door, practically running over Claire as she
finally walked into class, moments before the bell.  "Oh Claire! 
I told her.  I told her!"  Wendy exclaimed and then disappeared
out of the room.


While Carla's bullying me made a sensation, Wendy's brazen
display of her crush on Carla stunned the class into silence, so
that when Miss Tucker walked in seconds later, she saw twenty-
three sophomores standing frozen in place.  She cleared her
throat, and we all obediently sat down and stared ahead, like a
model class in olden days.  She looked mystified, then turned
around and started writing our homework assignment on the
blackboard.  Claire looked over to me, asking me wordlessly what
just happened.  I closed my eyes and shook my head, indicating it
was too much to say until after class.


Miss Tucker turned around.  "Where is Wendy Martin? I saw her
walking to class just five minutes ago."


A few of the guys laughed nervously.  Mo Lee finally answered. 
"She left; just after she told Carla she was in love with her."  


Miss Tucker raised her eyebrows and said, "Thank you Mo," then
turned around and finished writing on the blackboard.  


That broke the ice, and soon everyone in class was whispering to
each other something along the lines of "can you believe what we
just saw?"  


Finally, Miss Tucker finished writing and walked slowly in front
of her desk, obviously preparing something "important" to tell
us.  She put down her book and her chalk and looked around into
each of our faces.


"Now class," she began, more conversationally than her usual
strict tone, "you will have to learn this sooner or later.  Not
everyone among you is exactly the same.  Studies have shown that
approximately 10% of the population is homosexual.  That means
that probably at least two of you, and perhaps more, are gay.  I
don't know whether Wendy Martin is gay or not, but I would hope
that you all act maturely and show some tolerance for your
classmates."  


"I know that teenagers want to be just like their peers and they
assume everyone is normal and only they are different, but take
it from me, when you grow up, you'll realize that all of you are
different from the others in some special way, whether it's
something you're proud of or, as is more likely now, something
you feel is embarrassing."


"I want you to think about allowing your classmates the right to
be themselves, whatever they are, even if it means that they are
different from you.  All of you are becoming adults, your bodies
are changing, your emotions are changing.  It's hard enough to be
a teenager without the taunts of your classmates and friends. 
Think about it."


I felt kind of uncomfortable listening to Miss Tucker talk about
this.  I mean, this wasn't the kind of stuff biology teachers
were supposed to be telling us in class.  But as I looked around
the room, I saw a lot of heads nodding.  Maybe my class was more
mature than I thought.


Or maybe there was something on their minds that I didn't know
about.


7


I was relieved when class was over, because I couldn't wait to
talk to Claire, but when the bell rang, Miss Tucker announced
that we were all to go to the auditorium.  This week pictures
were being taken for the school yearbook, and we'd be getting our
picture taken together.  As we lined up for our turn, I noticed
how much scrawnier the guys in our class looked compared with the
other biology classes.  It made me wonder what kind of self-
selection honors classes used.  Whether smarter guys were just
naturally smaller, or smaller guys spent more time on their
studies because they didn't want to compete in sports.  It wasn't
just Howie and his friends; even the guys from the Hills seemed,
I don't know, just smaller.  Then I looked over the girls, and I
realized they were just the opposite; not just Bonnie and Carla,
but even Melody seemed, I don't know, heftier than the other
girls.  So were guys who studied science less masculine than
other guys, and girls who studied more masculine than other
girls?  I certainly never thought of Carla as masculine, and
certainly not Claire, although I was noticing more of a roundness
in her arms every so often when she took of her shirt.  But with
winter, we were getting less and less of an opportunity to do
that.


After the picture taking was over, I finally grabbed Claire and
we walked down to her locker together.


"Thank god that's over.  I've been dying to talk to you.  Do you
know what Carla did to me?  She --


"I know.  Bonnie told me when we went to the girls' room
together.  You ought to stay away from her, Mark.  I know she's
good-looking, but she's really bad news.  No one really likes
her, you know, and I don't think she even cares, or notices."


" I don't know about that.  The cheerleaders seemed to, and every
guy in the school would -- I mean, not that I would -- You're not
jealous of her, are you Claire?  You know, you shouldn't be,
'cause I --


"Oh Mark!"  She put her arm through mine and gave me a hug. 
"It's not me I worry about, it's you.  I just don't want you
getting a crush on that kind of a creep, that's all."


"But Claire, you know how I feel about you.  I wouldn't never do
that to you."


"Mark, we're not married or anything, you know.  We're only
fifteen."


"Yeah, I know, but --"


She reached up with her hands around my neck and pulled me down
for a kiss.  "You are the sweetest guy I know.  Want to come over
and do our homework together?  My mom won't be home for at least
an hour, I think."  I nodded eagerly.  We did have a lot of
homework to do, but it was a code word for making out and
sometimes more and I was hoping that's what she had in mind.


We walked back to Claire's house, while she was telling me about
a party her mother was throwing for her Aunt's fortieth birthday. 
I didn't really care about it, and Claire probably didn't care
what I thought.  For me, it was enough to walk next to her and
hear her animated voice talking about this and that, and I bet
for her, it was enough to feel me close to her and listening.  


Claire lived alone with her mother.  Her father was an awful guy,
to hear her tell it.  Claire told me early on that he used to
beat up her mother several times a week and once when he was
drunk he came into Claire's room and acted like he was going to
rape her, but Claire's mom came in with a baseball bat and
knocked him cold.  The next day she got an order of protection
from the police, and except for a few threats over the phone and
one scary scene at middle school graduation, that's the last
they'd seen of him.  Claire's mom worked as a secretary at a law
firm, and was going for her degree at the local college.  They
lived in a small house, near the shopping area, but it was a nice
place, and I always started getting a little stiff when we
rounded the corner onto her block.


When we got to her house, there was a message on the machine from
her mom, saying that she was working on a brief that had to be
filed the next day and she'd probably be late, and then, that
there was dinner in the freezer for Claire, and if I was there,
for me too.  It made me feel very special.  I called my mom and
told her I'd be having dinner at Claire's, then we looked at each
other, at our books, and then dove for the couch.


I could hardly get her undressed quickly enough.  I'd been
getting some practice taking her bra off, but it always took me
three times as long as I thought it should, and it was galling to
see her reach behind her back and snap it off with a couple of
fingers, but tonight I got it off in two seconds.  Claire
whistled, pretending to be impressed, and I smiled as she
unbuttoned my shirt and then my jeans, stroking me softly.  Not
that I needed any help.  I was already pointing up at about
eighty-five degrees.


I was dying to make love to her, but I have to admit I was a
little shy about asking, especially with what she told me about
her father.  She had the most -- I don't know -- clever fingers I
could imagine.  Somehow she knew what turned me on even better
than I knew myself, stroking my dick lightly and gently, then
hard, then holding it, then rubbing the bottom.  It scared me at
first how good she was, and made me wonder how much experience
she had, but she swore I was her first boyfriend, and she
explained that she was just very much in touch with me and could
tell right away just what I was feeling.  I sure had no reason to
doubt that.


Anyway, that evening she started touching me, but must have
sensed something, because she stopped and lay down on the couch,
beckoning me to lie down next to her.  She'd taken her pants off,
but kept her panties one, which she usually did, even when I was
touching her.  I guess it was just a little bit of modesty she
still felt.  I put my arms around her and kissed her, then ran my
hand around her back and over her breasts.  I loved her breasts. 
They were so round and firm.  Even though they weren't half the
size of Carla's, she had perfectly circular nipples that would
stick out really far when she got excited, which was most of the
time that we were undressed.  She loved it when I sucked them, or
rolled my tongue around them, even when I just cupped them with
my hands, sampling their soft shape.  She moved her hips against
me and brought her legs around my hips, so that my dick was
pressing against her and just a thin layer of cotton was
separating us from doing it.


"Oh Claire, do you think?"  I looked longingly at her.


I could see her struggling inside. "Do you have a condom, Mark?"


I gulped.  "No.  Uh, I didn't think we'd be, you know."


She looked a little disappointed, then smiled.  "Well, you know,
we can't do it without protection.  Oh Mark, I want to as much as
you do.  You understand that, don't you?"


I couldn't believe how I'd blown it!  I had a feeling I should
have bought some, but I was embarrassed, and I just hadn't
thought she'd want to go all the way so soon.


"Mark.  Are you there?"


"Yeah, I'm sorry, I just didn't think you were ready."


She chuckled.  "Maybe you're the one who's not ready."  I swung
my head over to her in hurt and disbelief, but then I saw that
she wasn't attacking me at all, just pulling my leg.  She licked
her lips.  "Well, as long as he's all excited, I wouldn't want to
let him down."  She started bending down, her mouth open.  "You
wouldn't mind, would you?"


"Mind?" I gulped.  "I'd be, uh, I mean, if you really want to
I'd, but I understand if you --


"Oh Mark!  I'd do anything for you.  Almost anything at least. 
Come on, let's try it!"  She gave me a smile that would have
warmed me if I were encased within the iceberg that sunk the
titanic, and then bent down and slowly enveloped my throbbing
dick in her mouth.  


I could feel her tongue shyly probing it, then as she got more
comfortable, the thrusts of her tongue got sharper and she
started running her lips up and down my shaft, tighter and
faster.  I couldn't believe how quickly she sensed just how to
touch me.  I looked down at her dark hair swaying with the motion
of her body, the smooth white skin of her back, the shoulder
muscles twitching with the movement of her head.  Wait a minute,
I thought.  Look at those muscles!  Since when did she have such
visible muscles in her back?  I ran my eyes up her shoulders and
down her upper arm and saw a thickness there that was new to me. 
But as I did, I could feel a tightness and an irresistible
tingling welling up inside me.  I was going to come in seconds. 
My body stiffened and I could feel her tongue flicking away on
the underside of my dick, each flick setting off fireworks around
my body.  My hips thrust upward at her and I exploded into her
mouth, suddenly able to think only of reaching out to touch her,
to be closer to her, to my wonderful girl.  I hugged her closely,
still shivering inside.


"Did I do it right?" she asked speaking into my neck, a quiet
smile in her voice.


"Oh Claire.  It felt so-o-o-o good."


We hugged for awhile, and then I returned the favor.  It took me
quite a bit longer to find the right spot and my tongue got
pretty tired in the process, but it was worth it to hear her
moans of pleasure and the fervor with which she held me while she
was coming and for a half hour afterwards.  We finally got
dressed again around seven, and Claire warmed up dinner while I
started on our homework.


We sat at her small kitchen table, staring at each other.  Just
watching the motion of her body completely enchanted me, and we
kept breaking out into laughter talking about what we'd just done
and how we felt.


"I couldn't believe that you wanted to do it.  I don't think I'd
ever gotten hard so fast.  But how'd you know just what to do?"


"Ha!  It's not like it's safecracking or anything.  Every time my
tongue or lips hit this one spot on your penis, you jumped like
an electric shock hit you."


"I did?  I didn't even notice."


"Really?  You must have been in another world then.  I certainly
noticed."


Just then I thought of something.  "Hey, Claire.  I did notice
one thing.  Are you getting, I mean, I never really saw you like
that before, and I thought your back looked different, kind of
muscular."


She chewed her food a bit, not saying anything.  "Yeah, maybe. 
Is that a problem?"


"No, I mean, why should it be?  It just struck me, that's all,
especially after that thing with Carla.  I didn't expect it."


She looked down at her plate.  "So, would it bother you if I got
to be stronger than you were?"


"Gee, I don't know.   But why should you be?  You're a girl,
you're smaller than I am, and besides, maybe I'm not Johnny
Kingman, but I'm a pretty decent athlete, and you're no jock
yourself."


She looked up, into my eyes.  "Remember what Miss Tucker said in
class today?  You shouldn't just make assumptions about people
being, you know, normal?"


"What are you talking about?  What assumptions?


"Well, like assumptions about all boys being stronger than
girls."


"Yeah, well I sure learned about that from Carla.  Man, she was
strong.  But everyone knows that she used to beat up guys.  I was
surprised, sure, but not shocked or anything."


"But you would be shocked if I were stronger than you."


This was getting a little too close.  I looked back into her
eyes, taking in her dark, concentrated face, her eyebrows and the
few small freckles around her nose.  I was honest.  "I guess I
would be."


She shrugged, and I thought I saw her lip quiver a little bit.
"Hey, what's the matter, Claire?"


"I don't want to hide anything from you Mark," she said, her
voice rising in pitch.  "Don't you see what's happening to our
biology class?  Doesn't Howie talk to you about it?"


"About what?  What's going on?"


Tears were rolling down her cheeks.  "It's not happening to you,
thank god, but everybody else is changing!  The boys are getting
weak and the girls are getting stronger, much stronger.  It's
been happening all year!"  I stared at her dumbly.  Sure I'd
noticed Howie looking a bit scrawny, but he'd always been that
way.  "Didn't you wonder about Bonnie breaking all the records in
field hockey, as a sophomore?  And now she's playing basketball
better than half the boys.  Nobody on the varsity team can stop
her.  She's making jump shots in the games from twenty-five feet
out.  How many sophomore girls can do that?"


I was struggling to keep my bearings.  "Well, she's always been a
jock."


"Did you see her on TV last week, the local news station after
she'd scored more points than the whole Huntsville team?   The
announcer was asking her about conditioning and exercise, and she
just told him she'd always been strong and then made a muscle in
her arm that practically made the guys' eyes pop out it was so
big.  That's not natural for a girl, Mark, don't you know that?"


"Well, maybe she's taking something?"


"Bonnie?  Are you crazy?  She won't even take Motrin when she
gets her period."  She reached out and touched my face.  "Please
Mark, don't do this.  Why are you denying it?  It just makes it
so much harder."  She bit her lip.  "If you won't believe me,
I'll have to show you.  Remember a few months ago, when you asked
me if you could feel my arm muscle and I wouldn't let you."


"I don't remember it that way.  You didn't say no, but we just
moved on to something else."


"Yeah, my breasts, I think.  You're pretty easy to distract." 
She grinned a little, then got serious again.  "Promise me you're
not going to get upset, okay?"


"Sure I promise."


She held out her arm, which looked very cute in her the bright
red long-sleeve of her turtleneck.  She hadn't put her bra back
on, and I admired the way her breast rose when she stuck her arm
out.  "Mark, you're getting distracted again," she said a little
indulgently.  "Come on, put your hand on my biceps."  


"Well, ok, if you want."  I did, feeling a little silly, but
then, I had started this whole thing.  I cupped my hand over her
sleeve, and she brought her hand up to a ninety degree angle to
her arm, then started tightening her muscle.  I could feel it
harden and then push up into my palm, lifting it a couple of
inches.  I looked at her, a little surprised, then closed my
fingers around it.  It was hard!


"Wait," I said.  "Maybe I'm not doing it right."  I moved my
hands around, so that my thumb rested underneath her arm and my
forefinger and index finger on top and I started squeezing. 
"Hey, you're right.  It is pretty solid and, uh, it is large, for
a girl."


She looked at me, a little annoyed.  "What do you mean, 'for a
girl'?"


Now I was flustered.  "You know.  Girls have smaller muscles,
usually, so all I meant was --


"I know what you meant.  You're not getting it.  It's not just
big for a girl.  It's large."


"Well sure, if you say so.  But hey, I'm not used to feeling
muscles, on a girl or a guy.  Maybe I just can't tell with your
shirt on."


"I can't believe this.  You're acting so dumb.  You're going to
make me show you everything."  She twisted her arms and pulled
off her shirt, her breasts bobbing a little.  "Now look and tell
me what you think."  


She quickly lifted her fist and flexed again.  This time there was no denying it.  Up from her arm
rose a solid baseball, no, softball-sized muscle, with a dark blue vein running across the top and
up her arm to her wrist.  I put my hand on it and tried to push it in, but I couldn't.  She shook her
head, then squeezed some more, producing another small peak on top.  My jaw dropped.  It
wasn't just the size, it was the scale against her small arm, like someone had plopped a fullback's
arm onto a figure skater.


"Where'd that come from?  Is it real?"


"Oh yes.  It's very real."


I was just babbling at this point.  "B-b-b-ut, I mean, you're not really that strong, are you Claire?"


She put her hands under my arms and lifted me into the air with hardly a grunt.  "What do you
think?  Satisfied now?"  I looked down and now saw two massive biceps pointing upwards at me,
matched by flexed trapezious muscles and large shoulders.  Her arms were rock solid, and I could
tell that she could hold my hundred and sixty pounds for as long as she wanted, but her lips were
quivering and her eyes red.  I put my hands on hers, almost to see for myself that they truly
belonged to Claire, but then I looked more deeply into her eyes and I knew they did.  


"But Claire, where did they come from?"  I asked, quietly.


She lowered me to the ground and reached for her top.  She was still crying.  "You think I know? 
They've been growing all year.  I don't even have to do anything.  I stopped exercising.  I don't
even try in gym class, so nobody asks me about them, but still they get bigger every time I check
them.  I've been so scared you were going to say something, so I've been trying to hide them, not
getting undressed, trying to make sure it's dark enough when we do, but I knew that once winter
ends, there's no way I'd be able to keep it secret from you anymore.  I've been just dreading it. 
Then when Miss Tucker said that thing in class today, I thought, well maybe she's right, and
maybe you'll understand, but I just couldn't hide from you anymore Mark.  It's like I was lying.  It
felt so wrong.  Do you understand that?"


She put her face down into my chest and sobbed, and I put my arms around her.  I felt so strange.  


"Hey, please stop crying.  I'm not going anywhere.  I'll stick with you, and we'll find out what's
happening to you together, okay?"


"You're just saying that to be nice!"


"No I'm not.  I love you."


"But you think my body's repulsive!"


"No I don't.  It's different, but, but, it's you.  I just have to get used to it, okay?"


"But what if you don't?  What if you hate it, or feel intimidated by me?  What if people make fun
of you for going out with me?  What are you going to do?"


"Well, you can defend me and beat them up, for one."


She looked up angrily, but realized I wasn't making fun of her, then she smiled, kissed me
and held me very tightly.  But not too tightly.


8


Obviously, I didn't end up finishing our homework that night, and we ended up talking and
holding each other until I had to leave, so I got up early the next morning and went to school to
work in the library before my first class started.  It was quiet that time of day.  I sort of enjoyed
having the place to myself and finished with half an hour to spare, so I went to my locker to
dump my stuff, figuring I'd go down to the activity center to see if Howie or Claire was around. 
Instead, I saw Johnny Kingman and his friends, Andy Brown, Sal Marino and Ben Hoss down
the hall, giving Wendy Martin a hard time.  I couldn't help listening and watching.  


She stood there, blinking hard, trying to keep the tears from flowing down her cheek.


"So now we all know your secret, Wendy.  A closet lesbo!"


"You shouldn't talk to me like that.  It isn't right.  Just because I have feelings for Carla, why is
that such a big deal for you?  Half the school feels the same way, probably more."


"Yeah sure, but they're GUYS.  Last I looked, you weren't."


"I didn't mean just guys."


"Well, that's all that counts, isn't it?"


"How do you know?  How do you know Carla's straight?  Ever see her going out with a guy?"


That stopped Johnny and his friends for a moment.  Then they burst out laughing.  "You mean to
tell us that a girl with a body like Carla's is a lesbo?  You're cracked!  She's just too good-looking
to go out with us high school students.  I can see it, maybe, if she was a geek like you, but man,
she's too hot to waste it."  He elbowed Sal and they all nodded.  Wendy was beet red, but she
showed more grit than I expected from her.  I would have figured she'd have run crying into the
girls' room already.


"Well, there's a lot of things you don't know."


Andy was laughing so hard that he could hardly stand up.  He said, between furious attempts to
breathe, "Oh, and you're the one who's gonna tell us?  Well, why don't you start by telling us who
the other lesbos are, so we don't have to waste our time with them!  Or better yet, so we can show
them what they're missing.  Am I right guys?"  They slapped each other's hands and whooped.


Sal went on.  "Yeah, Wendy.  I bet you don't know what you're missing.  Maybe we can find
someone to show you -- if you paid us enough!"  Johnny's face lit up at the last remark and they
all whooped again.


Something just came over Wendy, and her face hardened like steel.  "Ha!  Listen to you guys.
You're really pathetic, you know that?  You don't have the slightest idea what love is about,
woman-to-woman.  And you never will.  You're just not capable of the kinds of feelings we have,
emotional or physical.  Your sticky little spurts, which if you're lucky you can manage a couple
of times an hour, are nothing compared to a woman's orgasm.  Have you ever come twenty times
in half an hour, or for five minutes at a time?  That's what a woman's tongue can give me, which I
bet is a heap more than you've ever done for a girl!"


Johnny Kingman fought back.  "What's the big deal?  Guys have tongues too, but no girl I've
dated ever begged me for my tongue.  They want my dick, and last I looked, you girls don't have
one.  Or maybe yours is just missing in action." 


"Hmmph!  My fingers are just as good as your dick, and it doesn't get all soft when there's still
more touching to do."


"It's not the same.  No way your skinny fingers are as good for screwing as my prick. And that
has to go for your whole body.  Did you ever notice girls pining for thin little guys with your kind
of build?  Girls like big guys, with muscles and strength, who can protect them and make them
feel safe.  Why do you think the guys on the football team are always the most popular guys in
the school.  It's obvious.  We're what the girls want."


"Oh really?"  She looked around, unsure of herself for a moment.  "Maybe you have a point." 
Then she smiled, almost an evil kind of smile.  "But then, haven't you even noticed what
YOU'RE missing these days?  Been playing much football lately, Johnny?  Or you Andy?  Last I
heard, you guys were off the team.  Not strong enough, maybe, for the high school game?" she
taunted.


Johnny stuck his chin out.  "Hey!  We were in a slump, alright?  And we had a little disagreement
with Coach about training.  That's all!  We'll be back next year, if we want.  Right guys?"  They
all nodded.


"Oh, I doubt it.  You're through!  You say you had a little training problem.  What was it?  Coach
thought you were too big and should go on a diet?  You don't look so big to me, at least not like
you were before. And you other guys, Sal and Andy.  I just can't see you playing on the line. 
You're not big enough."


"Oh?  Since when are you the expert on football?"


"I know a couple of things.  My older brother plays for UCLA.  Now he's got real muscle.  He
works out, bulks up.   He must be almost 270 pounds of muscle.  But you guys, I'll bet you've got
less muscle than you had at the start of the season."


"Listen there Wendy, you've got a lot of nerve."


"You think so?  Well you haven't seen anything yet.  I will admit one thing.  I think muscle looks
good too, but I like seeing muscle on a woman, not a man.  Have you seen Carla's biceps?  I bet
they're bigger than any of yours.  And Bonnie Guntzer's probably bigger than you guys too.  She's
got great arms, and legs too.  Too bad she's straight, but if she went out for football next year,
she'd beat all of you guys easily.  I bet she'd pound you into the ground.  That would be worth
seeing!"


"That's enough out of you, queero!"  Johnny went up to her and pushed her away, hard.  I jumped
up to break up what looked like would suddenly become an ugly scene, but I was too slow.  I
expected to see her go flying, but instead, she just backed up a few feet and caught her balance,
glaring at him, but looking oddly smug.


"I despise you, Johnny Kingman.  But you're going to learn about woman power, you and all of
the other jerk guys in this school.  Just you wait!"  She turned around and left.


"Jeez, Johnny," Sal said.  "What got into her?"


"Ahh, these lesbos.  They're all frustrated bitches.  Probably her time of the month too.  Fuck
'em!"


"What do you mean, 'time of the month?'" I heard Sal ask as I backed away.


I replayed that conversation in my head a few times before class. 
I couldn't believe how openly she was admitting that she was a
lesbian.  It kind of gave me the chills to think about two girls
kissing, then I noticed I was getting hard when I got a picture
of it in my head, so maybe I wasn't too sure how I felt about it. 
But what really caught my hear was her talking about with the
football guys getting weaker, as if she knew more about it, a lot
more.   But what?


One thing for sure, Wendy was absolutely right about Carla.  Even
the long-sleeved sweaters she wore in the winter months did
little to hide the bulging biceps she carried around, and perhaps
she wore them just because they pretended to conceal them and did
such a poor job of it.  But it's not as if she went around
flexing her muscles.  She knew exactly how to tantalize us.  You
had to catch just the right moment to see them expand, and then
the moment ended all too quickly.  Like the rest of her body,
they gave off an overwhelming aura of power, but now it wasn't
merely the seductive feminine kind; it was raw strength,
challenging and overwhelming us on our own territory.  It was
almost frightening now to see her breasts perched atop a large
chest and flanked by arms that any guy in our class, or even the
school, would have traded ten years of his life to wear at the
beach.  And she wore her power with complete disdain for her
subjects, fearlessly moving among us like a tank driving through
the infantry.


In biology class that day, I could see that Wendy had passed
through some kind of barrier, and was suddenly unafraid to speak. 
Her firm confident voice, precisely answering Miss Tucker's
questions surprised all of us, not only that she spoke at all,
but that she spoke with an authority and sophistication about
science that none of us, even Miss Tucker could match.  Poor
Howie must have slunk two inches down into his seat when Wendy
disdainfully dismissed a remark Howie made about cell
reproduction, and then launched into a two minute lecture on work
she'd been doing at Columbia Hospital.  He knew that he had just
surrendered his title as class brain, right then and there.


At lunch, Claire told me that after class she went up to Wendy
and told her how glad she was that Wendy was speaking out more,
and that obviously "coming out" had given her strength.  Wendy
looked at her, smiled, looked over at me as I walked out to my
next class, and then made another  remark about Claire not having
seen anything yet and walked away.  Claire told me that although
she'd sort of befriended Wendy at times, she'd never imagined how
smart she was, or that she had anything like that kind of self-
assurance.  For Claire to admit she was surprised by someone was
unusual -- she usually picked up on people almost immediately.


As for us, once the ice broke, it was hard for Claire and me to
talk about anything other than Claire's increasing strength.  Her
muscles were truly remarkable in size, but they were hers, and it
didn't take long for me to start getting an erotic charge out of
them, even though I was a little embarrassed about it, and
wouldn't admit it to anyone, even to Howie.  I was also
embarrassed at how much stronger than me she was, although the
difference was so clear, and she was so matter of fact about it,
that at least when we were alone together it didn't bother me. 
Now that she wasn't concentrating so hard on not flexing her
muscles, I got used to seeing them erupt out of her arms at the
slightest movement, and once she started seeing that rather than
being a turn off I was starting to pay almost as much attention
to her biceps as to her breasts, she began taking pleasure in
making them pop out at the funniest times.  Of course all of this
was in private, when we could be sure no one else could see us. 
She still was very self-conscious about her new body in public.


I had told her about Wendy's argument with Kingman and his
friends, and now that we were talking about it openly, it also
didn't take us long to figure out that all of the girls in our
biology class were developing in the same way, and all of the
boys, except me, were losing their muscle or, if they were
working out a lot like Bud, barely gaining.  But guys like Howie
and his friends, who never worked out, were really being
affected.  


Poor Howie.  He and I were spending a lot less time together as I
got more involved with Claire, but I still hung out at his house
at least one afternoon a week.  He had a younger sister, Marcia,
a real brat who was as smart as he was, but cute too and knew it. 
She was just a year and half younger.  Unlike Howie, she was
pretty active, with horses, dancing and other physical
activities.  Howie used to push her around, give her noogies, all
the usual big brother stuff, but at some point in January, when
I'd come over, I saw that he was trying hard to stay out of her
way.  I sort of guessed way in the back of my mind why, but since
Howie refused to talk about anything to do with his wasting away,
I didn't say anything.  


Anyway, one afternoon when he was showing me a new porn site he'd
found on the Internet, Marcia burst in without knocking.


"Hey Howie, that paper you wrote sucked.  I got a C.  You owe
me!"


"Marcia, not now!"


She looked over at me, smirked, and then turned back to Howie. 
"You should have thought of that before you wrote such a crummy
report.  Now to make it up you have to do an extra credit project
too."


"Marcia!"


"You're doing her homework, Howie?"


"Leave me alone Mark. You'd better go."


I looked at him quizzically.  "Howie!  What's going on?"


"Should I tell him Howie?  You know, I need a new blouse.  Gimme
twenty dollars and I'll keep my mouth shut."


"I don't have twenty bucks.  Give me a week."


"Uh uh."


"Mark, please go.  I don't want you to see this."


Marcia looked at me, with a little bit of the predator in her
eyes.  "Unless, maybe Mark wants to give me twenty too."


"Why should I do that?"  I said, angrily.  She grabbed my arm and
pulled it upwards.  I snapped it out of her hands and pushed her
back against the wall, hard.


"Ow!  Oh well," she said, rubbing her shoulder.  "Looks like
you're no weakling, not like Howie and his other friends."  She
turned to Howie, and grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back
like it was a soft noodle.  "See what a wimp my 'big' brother is
these days?  Now are you going to help him out and give me twenty
bucks, or should I break his arm?"


"Just ignore her and go, Mark.  This is my problem, ok?"  Howie
struggled futilely, while his sister pushed his other arm back
too, until she held both his wrists in one hand.  "I TOLD YOU TO
GO.  DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?" he shouted.  


I looked at him.  "We've got something to talk about," I said,
and walked out of the room, trying not to hear him groaning as
Marcia tormented him.


9


It was April of our sophomore year, and to look around our
biology class, you would have thought you were in another world. 
All the guys, except me, were thin as rails, with flat soft arms,
skinny legs and concave chests, barely able to carry their books
around from class to class.  The five girls were as solid and
muscular as any male bodybuilder I'd seen; Carla and Bonnie
surpassed Arnold at his peak.  Carla wore her frame proudly,
sleeveless dresses showed off her hugely sized muscles with proud
abandon.  Even unflexed, they dwarfed any biceps I could ever
imagine, and when ever she saw somebody like Johnny gaze her way
hungrily, she cruelly flexed them, producing frightening boulder-
sized muscles, pulsating with raw power, driving home her
superiority to his pathetically meager frame.


Wendy Martin had become the standout student in class, and she
stood out in other ways too.  Not that she was pretty like Carla,
but she too showed off her body freely, wearing tight t-shirts
and tank tops that displayed her increasingly muscular arms and
shoulders for all to see, not to mention her breasts, which she
let bounce freely, refusing to wear a bra.  She now had a group
of girlfriends she hung out with openly, obviously a crowd who
considered themselves lesbians, who were attracted to her and
emboldened by her powerful body and self-assurance.  With her
hair cut short, her obvious intelligence and her ability to push
around with impunity anyone who taunted her, she was the most
dominating girl I had ever known.  Even Carla deigned to talk to
her every now and then, perhaps recognizing Wendy's admiration of
her and acknowledging Wendy as a fellow amazon of sorts.


I'd tried to get Howie to join Claire and me in figuring out what
was happening, but he refused to see me, especially with Claire
around. Meanwhile, Claire and I contacted someone at Columbia
Hospital, looking for information about the tissue regeneration
project, which we figured was a logical place to start.  After
all, I was the only one in class who was not there when the
machine was turned on, and the whole class, plus Bud and the rest
of the front four were there, and they were all changing. 
Imagine our surprise when we were told that there was no such
project.  When we showed them the room where we had seen it, it
was just an ordinary lab room, with none of the same equipment. 
Even the doctor who had shown us the machine had vanished.  But
when we explained what had happened, and the obvious strangeness
of the developments in our English class, along with a moderately
threatening letter from the lawyer Claire's mother worked for,
they agreed to evaluate any of the students in class who wished,
without charge.  Howie refused, but a few of his friends, Claire,
Bonnie and Johnny were tested.  Today was the day that they would
address our class with the results.


Carla sat in her usual perch in the back of the room, filing her
nails, the motions of her arm, creating rhythmic pulsations of
her muscles.  Wendy sat up front, a superior sneer on her face,
as two doctors, armed with stacks of papers and test results,
prepared to speak.  The rest of us waited eagerly.  The school
principal, the hospital's attorney, and Miss Tucker, who had
already been briefed, sat stiffly in school chairs on the side of
the room.


"Ahem.  Well let's get started.  This is a very curious case, and
let me state at first, that we have no scientific explanation for
what is occurring to you all, nor do we have a prescription to
stop either the wasting disease that is affecting the boys, nor
the incredible growth that is affecting the girls."


I looked around the room, Carla was bored, Howie was biting his
lips, and already looked disappointed, blinking away a tear. 
Wendy stared at the doctors intently.


"We first turned our attention to the boys, since there are many
infectious, and non-infectious agents that have produced similar
effects."


"You mean, you think we have some kind of virus?"  Johnny blurted
out.


Bonnie looked at him and flexed her arm, smiling at her
mountainous biceps.  "Well if this is a virus, I hope we have an epidemic."


"Please!  We have been able to identify no infectious agent, nor any response to an infectious
agent in the boys.  Although we cannot state definitively that it is not a bacteria or virus unlike
those previously found, we believe --


"I can't believe you don't know what it is.  You caused this, and now no one can help us," one of
Howie's scrawny friends said.


The lawyer stood up.  "If this keeps up, I will have to call a halt to this proceedings immediately. 
Both the school and the hospital will not be held responsible for any consequence.  Your parents
all signed waivers to attend the hospital that day, so let's not have ---


"Shut up, Mel!" the other doctor said.  "These kids have a right to be concerned.  This is a
friendly meeting.  You can listen, but another word out of you and I can name one contract your
firm will lose."


The lawyer glared at him and wrote furiously on his legal pad, but he closed his mouth.


"Now son, we're working as hard as we can to find out what has
happened to you.  You'll be relieved to know at least that the
effect on you is not continuing.  You boys are no longer getting
any weaker.  On the other hand, it seems the girls are continuing
to get stronger, although not nearly as rapidly as before."


"O wow!  What a relief!  I feel so much better!"  Brad Stuart
said sarcastically.  "But still, no matter how much I work out,
it makes no difference at all.  It's like it's all for nothing!" 
he complained.  Brad used to be the class swimming champion, but
now he was embarrassed to undress for swim class, his body was so
puny.


"Thanks for raising that Brad," the first doctor said.  "This is
the only other clue we have.  You see, we examined you just after
you exercised, and we also examined Bonnie Guntzer the same
afternoon.  The MRI showed an unusual form of theta radiation in
each of you, but with the polarity reversed."


Howie rolled his eyes.  "Oh boy!  Reversed polarity!  Did you
call Geordi LaForge?  He always knows what to do when the
polarity is reversed."


"What's theta radiation?" Bonnie asked, looking concerned.  "Is
it dangerous?"


The doctors looked at each other.  "Actually we don't know
anything about it.  It's just a name we gave something we'd never
seen before.  We can measure it, and we can detect the spin of
the particles, but we have no idea how it is created, or what
effect it has.  All we know is that it is something unusual in
this unusual situation and that we must study it further."


Howie snorted.  "Great!  Here I was, figuring you could just
modify your tricorder, reverse the polarity back to the right
kind and give me normal muscles again.  I guess it's back to the
holodeck for me."


"Howie, please.  If you can't listen respectfully, I must ask you
to leave," Miss Tucker said, but not harshly.  "Doctors.  What
about that equipment used in the demonstration the class saw? 
Could that be the source of the 'theta radiation?'"


"Of course it could, but we know nothing about it.  It may be
hard for you to believe that someone could have used the hospital
without our knowledge, but we have no trace of evidence about who
or what it was.  Someone with access to the scheduling of the
trip wanted this class in there, but it is a complete mystery to
us."


"We promise that we'll continue our efforts to help you, but we
can't promise any results."


Wendy looked at them disdainfully.  "Well as far as I'm
concerned, I don't want your help.  I'm very happy with what's
happened, and I'm sure all of us girls agree.  It's great being
this strong.  I'd like to be even stronger, with bigger, harder
muscles.  Am I right?"  She looked at Melody and Bonnie, who
nodded, Carla, who smiled and stretched, expanding her chest, and
Claire, who frowned.  


Claire spoke up.  "I don't think that's fair Wendy.  I'm not a
scientist, but it's obvious to me that these muscles don't really
belong to me.  And while I won't argue with you that it's nice to
have them, it doesn't seem fair.  I mean, can't we just say
what's happened?  We all know it. That machine somehow
transferred the boys' strength to us girls.  We don't know how or
why, but it has to be the truth.  Look at us.  Five girls and
twenty one boys were in that room, and now that five of us are
each many times stronger than any guy in the school.  If I had to
bet, I'd wager that each of us are about four times as strong as
any guy, except for Carla, who's the strongest of all, and she
was surrounded by those four football players when it happened. 
I mean isn't it obvious to everyone?"


Wendy shook her head.  "You don't know that, Claire.  That's not
the way science works.  Without a demonstrable cause and effect,
you've just got one event and a theory, and what are you going to
do with it?  Tell stories, that's all.  Why don't you just let it
go and enjoy it?"


Claire stared at Wendy angrily.  "I don't know what's happened to
you, but I've never been so wrong about anyone in my whole life. 
Here I was, feeling sorry for you at the beginning of the year
because I thought you were shy and lonely, but you don't care
anything about anyone in this class except yourself."


Wendy looked at the other girls.  "Oh I don't know about that. 
You all know how I feel about Carla."  She looked around, and
this time nobody laughed.  "Just because you like to make a show
about your straight sex life, Claire, doesn't give you the right
to criticize me for liking girls."


"You know that's not what --


"Claire!  Wendy!  Enough of this!" said Miss Tucker.  Claire
grimaced and buttoned her lip, while Wendy smirked.


"Just be happy your boyfriend didn't get it . . . yet!" she said
to Claire in a stage whisper, audible to the whole room.


"Wendy Martin!" Miss Tucker snapped.


Wendy turned slowly and faced forward, ignoring Claire and Miss
Tucker.


Miss Tucker took a deep breath.  "I'm sorry Doctors.  This is a
high school class, you understand."  One of them nodded, the
other crossed his arms impatiently.  "But may I ask just one more
question?  I know you're very busy.  Claire is right, in a way. 
Isn't the evidence she referred to overwhelming?"


The doctors looked uncomfortable.  "Well, it's true that you
girls are about four times as strong as most boys in high school,
although it's obviously not an exact measurement, but I'm afraid
that the other girl has a good point too.  We are aware of that
"transfer" theory, but without an understanding of the mechanism
for the effect, it is useless to us.  Such a theory violates the
laws of science as we understand them.  All I can say is that we
will continue investigating and we'll let you know as soon as we
have established the cause."


"Well, thank you."  Miss Tucker said.  She escorted them out, and
as she did, Wendy turned around and said softly to the class,
"They know nothing!  Girls rule!!" and triumphantly pumped her
huge biceps.


10


Claire had to do some errands for her Mom, so I headed home from
school alone.  I was riding my bicycle down the main drag when I
saw Wendy in a car with the "doctor" who had demonstrated the
regeneration machine last Fall.  My mouth practically fell open. 
Wendy was talking a mile a minute, a broad smile on her face, and
the doctor was listening, her face confident, nodding every
minute or so.  They were so involved that they didn't see me, so
I decided to follow them from a block away. They parked at a
small medical building, not far from the hospital, and then they
went inside.  Well that was an interesting fact.  I waited a
couple of minutes, then after scanning the windows, I locked my
bike and went inside to look at the directory.  There were just
four offices: an X-ray lab, a chiropractor, an orthopedist, and a
Dr. Betsey Moore, on the second floor.  I went up to the stairs
to her office, and crept outside her door to listen, lying on the
ground with my ear next to the bottom.  I could hear Wendy along
with another woman with a slight English accent.


"Betsey, you know it's time for the next test!  There's no point
waiting any longer."


"I'm not going to sacrifice years of work so that you can play
tricks on your classmates.  This is too important.  What if we
get caught?"


"They haven't a clue!  We're so far ahead of them
scientifically."


"But they may know more than they're saying.  You know that
there's residual radiation for days after the burst.  If we do it
any place where there's no X-ray radiation to mask the effect,
we'll be in danger of being caught.  Better to do it out of town,
using the portable, where no one will suspect anything.  Then, if
the mass dispersal setting works we'll still have time to mount
it on the Discovery.  I have an instrument slotted to be launched
next November.  And that's the whole point, isn't it?


"November is so far away!"


I heard a sigh.  "Only if you're fifteen years old."


"I may be young, but you never would have gotten so far without
me, or my money."


"Speaking of which --


"Yeah, yeah.  I've got it."


"I don't know how you do it, playing the market."


"If you knew, then you probably wouldn't need me as much, so I
won't tell you.  Besides, it's an instinct, a gut.  Most people
have no idea.  They just follow the crowd.  Not me.  I know the
crowd is stupid.  They have the money, and they leave it on the
table for me and for others like me.  The key is to follow them
just so far, then turn back and snatch it off the table before
they see what's happening."


"Hmmm. It sounds simple, but every time I try to do what you say
--


"You fail.  Of course you do.  I don't know why you even bother. 
Don't I give you enough?"  There was a pause.  "Well?"


"Yes, Wendy.  I used to be independent though.  It just feels
strange having to go to you, a teenager, for money, now that I'm
working full time on this project."


"Sure, but don't I make it worth your while?"  


There was another pause, and I heard the two of them sighing,
then some rustling of clothes.  Shit, don't tell me they're
making out! I thought.


"I still can't get over these muscles Wendy.  They look so good
on you."


"Oh Betsey!  I want to see them on you too!"


"Patience, patience, my darling.  It's just a matter of time
before we all have them, and the boys can drag their skinny
bodies around like the wretched dogs they are -- skin and bones
and a penis -- a toy for those of us women who want it, when we
want it."


"While we have all the good stuff, soft, sweet breasts, the womb
of life, the zone of endless pleasure, and strength to boot.  Ha
ha!  You should see those guys in my biology class.  So
pathetic!"


I  heard a low chuckle.  "And darling, there's one thing more.  I
have a little surprise for you."


I heard a sharp breath.  "The multiplier?!!"  


"Yes!  So far just 35%, but now that the principle is proven it
will simply be a matter of refining the mechanics, purifying the
wave amplification resonance.  There's no reason why we can't go
as high as 400%, higher if we had purer isotopes."


"Which we will have, once this can become an official project. 
Once we take control.  Oh we will be so powerful.  I love it!"


There was more rustling and sighing, then suddenly I felt a
horrible tickle in my nose.  The dust on the floor!  I was going
to sneeze.  I got up and ran for the stairs, sneezing my brains
out while I ran.  I couldn't go back now.  I jumped down the
stairs, ran for my bicycle and pedaled like mad to get away from
there, back to the school, then to Howie's.


I knocked on the door furiously.  A bored-looking Marcia opened
it.


"Oh it's you," she said, chewing her gum.  "Like my new necklace? 
Guess who bought it for me?"


I ignored her.  "Howie!  Are you here?"


"Oh, he's up there, with Scott."  She eyed me up and down.  "You
still look the same.  How come you didn't get it like the rest of
them?"


I pushed her aside.  "Just lucky I guess," shivering while I
thought that if Wendy had her way, Marcia would be shaking me
down too.


I ran up the stairs and opened the door.  Howie and Scott were
hunched over the computer.  "Hi guys."  They looked at me a bit
suspiciously.  "Hey, would you do a search for me on Betsey Moore
-- Dr. Betsey Moore?"  Howie opened up a new window on the
browser and punched up her name on Altavista.


"There she is.  Ph.D. in Physics from Stamford.  Published
articles on -- heck, I can't even read these words -- esoteric
particle analysis, multidimensional mathematics.  Look, she's
even listed under NASA as contributing a device to measure
neutrinos for a shuttle launch.  Who is she, Mark?  Is she a
babe, or what?"


I looked over at Scott. I didn't really trust him, so I said,
"Naah, just somebody I heard of."


Howie cracked, "Probably one of Claire's heroines."


Scott got up.  "I have to go.  My mom's picking me up in a
minute."  Howie nodded.  I waved.


Howie turned to me.  "So what brings you over.  Claire busy?"


I walked over to the door to make sure Marcia wasn't hanging
around, then went back to Howie.  "I found out what happened to
you, to our whole class."


Howie looked interested, but he tried to hide it.  "Oh?  It's "Q"
isn't it.  He's always coming around, bothering me.  Just cause I
make cracks about the Continuum being discontinuous.  It drives
him crazy."


"Cut the Star Trek crap.  Although, fact is, what I tell you is
just as unbelievable.  This Betsey Moore designed some kind of
machine that transfers muscles from boys to girls.  They
experimented on our class at the hospital, and after one more
test, they're going to launch it into orbit. I bet they're
planning on changing the whole human race."


"That's a good one. And does it use theta radiation?  Did you
steal any tricorders to measure it?"


"Howie, I'm serious.  I overheard them talking about it just half
an hour ago.  I practically killed myself getting out of there. 
I don't know what to do."


"Wait!  Who's they?  You said Betsey Moore.  Are there more
superwomen?"


"Fuck you!  It's Betsey Moore, and she's not a superwoman.  I
guess she didn't use it on herself.  She's very careful --
something about not wanting to leave a trail of radiation
around."


"Smart of her."


"But the other one is someone you know -- Wendy Martin!"  He
stared at me.  "Ha!  You believe me now, don't you."


"I-I-I don't know.  Wendy.  Well that would explain --


"They're lovers too.  I think they were having lesbian sex in
their office."


"Oh please!  That's too gross for words.  Is this Betty -- Betsey
-- a dog too?"


I rolled my eyes.  "You're too much.  Anyway, no, she's not a
dog.  Not great, but definitely not a dog.  I'd say she's at
least a 6, maybe a 6.5."


Howie nodded.  "Well, at least you're talking like a normal guy
again.  You just may survive this affair with Claire and grow up
to be a real man after all.  So what are we supposed to do about
this?  Call the police?  Call NASA.  I don't know.  What would
Jean-Luc Picard do?  Probably make them promise never to use
their dastardly technology.  Unless of course, the Prime
Directive applied, which would be true in this situation because
Earth hasn't achieved Warp Technology yet."


"Howie.  This is serious."


"Mark.  Just because it's serious doesn't mean we can't joke
around.  Right?"


I smiled.  He was sounding like my friend again.  "Absolutely! 
Hey, do you think we can get them arrested for experimenting on
us?"


"Sure.  But unless they take the machine away, they'll get out on
bail and zap us.  And what if they can build another one before
they go to prison.  Hey, what if they build it in prison, turn it
on and absorb all the strength from the guards and take the place
over?  That would make a cool movie."


"Howie, it's going to be reality if we don't do something about
it."


"Yeah, it already is reality.  For me.  And Marcia's just got her
normal strength.  I mean, as it is, she's not even as strong as
you, and she pushes me around like I'm a six year old.  Can you
imagine if she were four times as strong as you, with freaking
huge muscles.  Man this could suck royally!"


I looked at Howie, then noticed the door was open.  "Shit!  Look! 
The door!  You don't think she heard any of this, do you?"  We
listened carefully.


"She's on the phone.  She can't hear anything when she's on the
phone.  It's the only time I get any peace.  I'm sure glad I'm
paying for that third line."


"We better be careful."


"Did you tell Claire yet?"


"Uh uh."


"Are you going to?"


"Of course.  What do you think?"


"I don't know if I'd trust any girl with this kind of
information."


"Hey, Claire's different.  You heard what she said in class."


"Yeah, well, look, I can't stop you."  He held up his skinny arm
and flexed it, the soft flesh remaining immobile, and soft.  "Not
with this Grade Z physique, but you better think about it.  You
know what girls are like."


"No, pray tell, what are they like?" challenged Marcia.


I spun around, startled.


"They're twice as much assholes as boys are, Marcia, and if you
don't believe me, check yourself!"


I think even I was shocked at how rude Howie was, but it WAS his
sister.  She turned red in the face, looked at me, and stomped
out of the room.


"You see, Mark, you got to learn how to handle girls.  Now if I
hadn't figured out exactly the right thing to say, she would have
come in, slugged me and taken ten bucks out of my wallet. 
Instead, she's gone back to her room and left us alone."


"Yeah.  Well I hope she doesn't flatten you later.  Maybe we
better talk about this stuff at my house from now on."


"Sure.  See when you can fit me in on your busy schedule." But he
was smiling.  He was definitely my friend again.


I couldn't reached Claire.  She'd left a message that her Aunt
was sick, and she'd had to go to Scranton to take care of her for
the rest of the week, until her mother could take off from work.
I couldn't believe it.  Just when we were going to make some
progress, just when I needed her more than ever.  But she'd be
back by the end of the weekend and she'd call me Friday night. 
OK.  I'd have to wait until then.


11


Thursday started like any other day.  Math, French, gym class. 
Then, before lunch, Carla of all people came up to me.  She was
dressed to kill as usual, wearing a bright red tented blouse that
must have been specially made to contain her massive breasts,
arms and shoulders, then screamed inward to her tiny waist, while
her short skirt barely concealed her rippling legs.  She came up
to me, looking downward slightly and put her fingers on my chin.


"Mark," she breathed, "Claire's out again, so I know you won't be
eating with her today.  Won't you come talk to me?  Privately?"


I stammered, "M-m-m-mmee?"


She put her power-charged arm around me and pressed me
irresistibly into her breast.  "Yes," she responded, in a voice
that felt lower than a Bach organ chord, vibrating from her chest
into mine and sending chills down my spine.  She walked me, my
feet half off the ground, to the anteroom of a room the
cheerleaders used to change and closed the door.


"Have you ever wondered, Mark, what would happen if I took my bra
off?"


"Um, um, honestly Carla, um yes."


"You know, most girls have to wear them for support," she said,
reaching in back of her and underneath her blouse.  "But for me
it's shaping."


"Um, I never guessed that you needed --


"Oh no, not that kind of shaping.  It helps me fit into my
clothes.  I do have to wear clothes around school.  You
understand that, don't you Mark?"  I nodded, not believing that
this was happening to me.  "It's so hard to get clothes that fit
me.  Especially now, with my breasts so, so large.  This bra
helps keep my figure more manageable.  Do you understand?"


"Uh, I think so."


She looked concerned.  "You don't sound very sure.  Maybe, being
a boy, you can't quite imagine just how large they could be. 
I'll have to show you."  She reached back and started unhooking
the strap.  "It's a very special bra.  Eight clips to hold it on. 
Two, three, four.  We don't have to count them all.  And wire,
and a very strong fabric, can you imagine they make auto bumpers
from it and yet it's soft enough not to irritate my delicate
skin.  Six, seven.  Ahhh!  That feels good.  Now watch what
happens to my blouse when I take it off."  She pulled it off her
breasts and slipped it out from under her shirt.  Out of the
corner of my eye, it looked like a piece of armor, a massive
piece, but how could I look at her bra as I watched her breasts
spring outward ... and upward, pulling her blouse out of her
skirt until it exposed her rock hard midriff and collapsed around
her breasts, but only for a moment, as the force of their
momentum stretched the silky fabric and burst the buttons,
leaving her shirt draped around the edges of her breasts while
they thrust themselves out at me, larger, whiter, rounder than I
could have ever imagined, her bright pink nipples pointing
upwards.


"So you see, Mark, why I just have to wear a bra, not for the
support, but for the shape."


I was staring at her breasts.


"You've seen breasts before, Mark?  Claire has them?"


I stared at them speechless.


"Do you suck Claire's breasts, Mark?  Do you touch them?  Are her
breasts firm?"  I nodded.  "But not like these.  Claire has nice
breasts, nice, little breasts, but not like these.  Would you
like to compare?  Tell me how they compare.  I'd like to know. 
I'd like you to tell me how they feel.  To your fingers.  Your
hand.  Your mouth.  Your tongue.  Go on, Mark.  I'd like that."


I stared at her breasts, imagining their firmness.  Could I do
that?  Could I really touch them?  I held out my hand and felt
one breast.  So warm, so soft, but so, so firm, and heavy, as I
guided my hand underneath and over the top, then around her
nipple, which rose hard against my palm.  She moved closer and
put her arm around me, guiding my head to the other breast.  My
god!   Claire had breasts, but Carla's were the whole world.  I
felt her nipple expand within my mouth, like it was her tongue
french-kissing me.  Her hands grazed my back, encircling me with
her strength, pulling me in closer.  Such softness and such
strength.


Suddenly I heard a giggle.  Who was that?  I spun my head around. 
Marcia!  She had a video camera!


"Hee-hee!  I bet Claire will just die when she sees this tape!"


"You fucking bitch.  I can't believe you --" I turned back to
Carla, who was grinning at me and now held me at arm's length.


"Time to put them away.  I hope you remember this moment, Mark. 
It won't happen again."


I struggled to get free, but she held me fast without even
exerting herself.  Just as Marcia did to Howie, Carla held my
wrists firmly in one hand, while she put her bra back on, along
with an identical red blouse Marcia handed to her.  I had no
chance against her incredible strength.


"What's this all about?  Why are you doing this?"


Wendy emerged from the back of the room.  "We just want to make
sure you behave, Mark."  I frowned.  "We knew someone was spying
on us Tuesday, but until Marcia called me, I didn't realize how
much you'd heard.  You might endanger our project."


"Endanger it?  Are you kidding?  If there's any way I can stop
it, I will."


"Well, I want to give you reason not to.  This tape will help,
for starters."


"You think you can blackmail me?  It won't work.  Claire will
understand what you're up to.  She knows how I feel about her."  


"Oh yes, the devoted Claire, and the moderately faithful Mark. 
I'm sure you're right, assuming you explain it properly.  It's
just a little chink in the armor.  But I have something more
persuasive."  She pulled out a small device that looked like a
blow dryer.  "Do you know what this is?  Would you like to
guess?"  She pointed it at me.  My mouth got dry, and I
swallowed.  "Yes, it's our portable model, with the latest in Dr.
Moore's technology.  I think you need a demonstration.  Won't you
make a muscle for us, while you still can?"  I struggled again to
run, but Carla held me firmly, then squeezed my elbow, instantly
sending me into a spasm of blinding pain.  "That wasn't a
question, Mark.  Do it!"  


I swallowed again and held up my arm to flex my biceps, producing
a familiar handsome muscle.  Then Wendy aimed it at me, and I
suddenly felt very strange, almost like my body was being
twisted, but not physically.  I felt lightheaded, but Carla kept
me in place, on my feet.


"That's enough for now.  It works more quickly than last year's
device.  We've made a lot of progress, Mark, and we'll make more
by the time the new one is installed on the Discovery.  Go on. 
Let's see what you look like now."  I felt the beginnings of
Carla's fingers on my elbow and I nodded quickly, so she freed my
right arm and I flexed it again.  It was less than half the size
it was before.  In a minute's time, all the muscular development
I had gained over the past two years was gone!  


Carla lifted me in the air, my feet dangling.  "He's so light!"


"Yes, but not as light as we could have made him.  We want you to
have something more to lose, Mark, if you breathe a word about
this to anyone else, even Claire, or do anything to try to stop
us.  That's why I don't think she'll be so understanding about
this tape, if and when we decide to show it to her.  Just
remember it can get worse, a lot worse, if I ever suspect that
you're not behaving.  So drop this whole thing, and make Claire
drop it too.  Understand?" 


I looked down at my skinny arms and felt like crying, although I
would never give them the satisfaction of seeing me break down. 
I felt all hope drain out of me.


"He still looks stronger than Howie and his friends!" Marcia
complained.  "I thought you were going to make him like Howie, so
that I could push Mark around too.  He's so rude to me!"


Wendy held up her finger.  "You're a cute girl, and very smart. 
You did the right thing calling me, and here's your reward,
Marcia.  Just keep quiet, and there will be lots more, later on." 
She adjusted the device and pointed it at Marcia.  "A little
sample of what's to come."  She flicked a switch and Marcia
shuddered, then smiled.


"That felt neat!  Did you -- ohmagod!"  I watched as Marcia's
lithe, barely pubescent frame started filling out with muscle,
her biceps stretching out the sleeves of her cotton top, the
pectoral muscles forming under her small bosom, her legs
thickening.  Soon her muscles were half again as large as mine
used to be.  She held up her arms in a triumphant double biceps
pose and looked from one arm to the other as her chiseled
baseball-sized muscles popped up in bold relief on her small
arms.  "Wow!  Thanks!"


Carla released me and gave me a little shove toward Marcia, who
grabbed my arm and twisted it effortlessly behind my back.  "Ha
ha!  This is great!  Howie was running out of money, and now both
of you can do my homework and buy me things."  She pulled me
closer and ran her hand up my chest.  "You're so small now, so
easy to hold."  Then she ran her hand down to my crotch.  "And I
can do things with you that I've always wanted!"


"I think we should leave these two to get better acquainted,
Carla.  After all, they've got their new bodies to explore."  


Carla nodded and smiled, looking at Marcia's muscular but still
flattish chest.  "Have fun Mark.  Oh, and in case you're
wondering, it wasn't as good for me as it was for you."


Marcia was lifting me in the air, testing out her strength, while
I futilely tried to push her away, her gloating smile paining me
almost as much as anything that had happened, when Wendy dropped
another bomb.


"Oh, one more thing, Mark.  Just to show you what can happen to
you if you don't play ball, take a look at this."  She pulled a
picture out of her pocket.  It was Howie, in bed his eyes closed,
hands on top of the sheets.  "I took this picture at 10:00 this
morning.  We took almost everything out of him, a lot more than
you'll lose when we launch.  Your friend won't be getting up for
at least a week.  Then we'll give him a little of his strength
back, just enough so he can get around, but he'll never be strong
enough to walk more than a hundred yards.  Don't expect much
help, or cooperation, from him."


"Let me see that!  What have you done to my brother?!"  Marcia
let me go and grabbed the picture.  "He looks like he's half-
dead.  How could you do that?"  She faced Wendy angrily.


"Hey, he was in my way.  And he's a wise guy.  He had to be
taught a lesson. Just you remember who calls the shots, Marcia
and what will happen if you don't keep quiet too.  Enjoy your new
muscles, and if you want to take it out on someone,  remember,
none of this would have happened if Mark hadn't gotten him
involved.  It's his fault.  Toodleloo!"


Wendy marched out of the door, and Carla followed, in her own
more intricate steps. 


"Look what she did to him!"  She looked like she was going to
explode with anger.   She turned to me, menacingly, but instead
of thrashing me as I feared, she collapsed on my shoulder,
sobbing.  I almost fell down, but realizing that she now weighed
more than I did, and was a lot stronger, she recovered her
balance and quickly caught us both, her shuddering cries shaking
me as much as they did her.  I did what any guy would have done
under the circumstances.  I put my arms around her and let her
cry.  I guess even with all the abuse she gave him, she still
loved him and at least didn't want anyone else to hurt him.


After ten minutes or so, Marcia calmed down and, looking a little
embarrassed, let me go.  I followed her out the door and now
having missed lunch ran up to my locker to get my books for
afternoon classes.  I couldn't believe how heavy they felt and
had to lift them from the bottom of the locker, one by one.  My
arm ached as I slowly carried them, digging them into my hip for
added support.  Damn that Wendy! I thought.  Then I saw Scott
carrying his books like a girl, clutched to his chest with both
arms, and I realized again that it could be worse.  It didn't
make me feel any better though.


I made it through English and French; Biology was last.  As soon
as I walked in, Howie's friends noticed the change in me. 
"Welcome to the club, Mark," Scott said.  "I guess this disproves
Claire's idea.  You weren't around that day."


I nodded and dropped into my seat, perspiring.  I could see Wendy
watching me, a gloating grin on her face, and I'm sure I saw her
huge arm muscles twitch twice to taunt me.


I could hardly pay attention in class and dragged myself home,
avoiding Scott and the other guys in class.  I called Howie to
see how he was doing, but his mother said he was very ill and he
wasn't taking phone calls.  Marcia asked to speak with me, but
what was there to say?  I wanted to call Claire, but it was too
early.  She'd still be at the hospital, and then I realized I
couldn't talk to her anyway.  I felt like a curtain was going up
between the rest of the world and me.  I moped on the bed awhile,
but I couldn't stand the idea of my homework.  Then I did
something crazy.


"Hello. Is that you Wendy?"


"Who is this?  Mark?"


"I need to see you."


"Ha!  About what, may I ask?"


"About what you did to me today."


"Surprise, surprise."  She thought about it a minute.  "Why not? 
It'll give me a kick to look at you.  You know where I live?"


"Yeah, I think so.  In the Hills, on Hillside Drive?"


"That's it.  Are you driving?"


"Right, sure.  I don't have my license."


"I know.  Well, I'll be patient.  You have a big hill to climb to
get here, and it's going to be steeper than you remember."


I ignored her needling and hung up.  I had something to eat, to
keep my strength up, and then set out on my bicycle, riding
slowly and steadily.  I didn't even try to climb the hill,
walking my bike up slowly.  I didn't want to be out of breath
when I arrived.


She was sunning herself out front when I got there, catching the
late afternoon rays.  She got up when she heard the squeak of the
gate and waved me over to the pool, which was up another hill. 
Damn her.


She had changed into a t-shirt and cutoffs, which made her arm
and leg muscles look even larger, bursting out of the undersized
openings for them.  I couldn't help but stare.


"You like the new look for girls, I see."  She flexed her right
arm, and her biceps bunched and expanded even more, the muscle
reaching a third of the way up her arm and lifting her shoulder
and pectoral muscles with it.  "Muscles are so sexy, and terribly
useful for a girl to have."  She reached over to one of the
chairs, where she had dumped three or four textbooks from our
classes, and lifted it one handed, her arm extended outward, then
pumped it over her head a few times.  "I saw you having a little
trouble carrying yours around, Mark."


"Stop showing off Wendy.  I can see you've got muscles."


She continued to hold it above her head, steady as a rock.  The
control was really impressive, and her stance made her chest pop
out even more, not like Carla's, for sure, but still amazing. 
She flipped the books onto the grass and put the chair down next
to her and motioned me to sit down while she lay back on a beach
chair.  


"Why are you doing this?  What grudge do you have against boys
anyway?  Did your father beat you or something?"


"Hey, don't try to psychoanalyze me, Mark.  No, my father didn't
beat me, he's just weird, that's all.  I don't hate boys at all. 
Frankly, I just don't care about them.  You guys can be a pain,
and you're pretty gross and stupid, but I just find women more
interesting, and more attractive.  That's all."


"So why don't you just hang out with women?  Why don't you just
leave us alone and let us be?"


She shrugged.  "I could have.  That's what I did most of my life. 
When I was eight I made out with my nanny for the first time and
really for the next four years I had everything I wanted, until
the gardener found out and reported her to my dad, who fired her. 
He had the hots for her, which, considering his own wife was
screwing around with the cook, was pretty funny.  Gabi was so
pretty, and she had these beautiful forearms from growing up on a
farm in Bavaria and milking a dozen cows every day.  I loved to
kiss them.  We had so much fun.  I'd make her hold me while I did
my schoolwork and read my books. It was heaven.  I almost went
crazy the year after she left.  Especially when I had to stay
with Mrs. Himpleweister, that old bag, who treated me like a
pervert and came into my room at all hours of the night to make
sure I wasn't touching myself.  It's only because I threatened to
kill myself that Dad finally fired her and we moved here.  I told
him he had to let me go to regular school and if he did, I
wouldn't tell mother about his affair with Gabriella Santini. 
You know, the tennis player?"


"Your father was making it with Gabriella Santini?  She's
gorgeous.  Why would she go out with an old man?"


"My dad's not so old.  He's 45.  And he sponsors a tennis school
in Argentina, as a sidelight to the family beef business. 
Anyway, yes, she is gorgeous, and totally straight.  I tried to
put the moves on her once and she knocked me flat.  It was worth
it though."


"You what?  Jesus Wendy, I had no idea.  You seemed like such a
mouse in class."


"It was an act.  Once I found out about Betsey's research and I
introduced myself to her, I didn't want anyone to be suspicious. 
The project came first.  Boy were you all fooled."


"I guess, until you went ga-ga for Carla."


"Well, who wouldn't.  Anyway, at that point there didn't seem to
be much reason to keep acting.  No one would have found out
anything if you hadn't seen Betsey and me talking.  That was
pretty stupid of me, I guess, but I've fixed you.  Haven't I?" 
She leaned over and grabbed my belt and pulled me right out of my
chair and on top of her.  I pushed against her chest to try to
get away, getting a feel of her big tits in the process, but got
nowhere.  "Oh do keep that up.  It tickles.  Hee-hee-hee-hee." 
She put me back, too hard though, and the chair toppled over. 
"Oh, sorry Mark. Are you ok?"


My pants tore on the pool deck, but I was all right.  I didn't
say anything while I righted the chair and sat down again.


"So anyway, I wouldn't have done anything in particular against
boys, except that once Betsey discovered the possibilities
inherent in sixth dimensional shifting, I mean, what could else
could I do?  The idea of a whole planet of muscular women was
just so, so appealing.  I could just eat them all up.  And Betsey
felt the same way.  She insisted that I be the one to get big
first, and I agreed, just to keep her inspired.  And then I
figured I had to make Carla an amazon, and our biology class had
the right boy/girl ratio, so that's how it happened.  Those
football players coming in just made it all the better.  I have
to hand it to Betsey.  She really saw an opportunity and ran with
it.  Especially with them crowded around Carla when Betsey turned
the machine on; now Carla's just exploding with muscle.  It is so
great to see her every day looking like that.  Of course,
Claire's not bad, but nothing like Carla and me.  Of course, I
knew where to sit."


"What does that have to do with it?"


"The machine we hit the class with was a primitive model,
relatively.  It worked by proximity.  The girl closest to a boy
when the dimensional shifting hit became linked to him, so that
depending on the setting used a certain percentage of muscular
fibre he grows gets transferred to her instead.  So with Carla
surrounded by the front four, she got a huge hunk of muscle.  I
sat near the jocks from the Hills, who aren't so bad in the
muscle department either.  Claire was sitting with you and Howie
and a bunch of nerds.  There were a lot of them, but they don't
pack much of punch, individually.  The new machines are lot more
sophisticated, far too much to explain to you, but suffice it to
say, they'll reach anywhere and everywhere.  You'll all be
affected."


"Wait, I don't understand.  I can see how maybe you and Carla
would get stronger, because when the guys worked out, you would
get their muscle.   But first of all, even four guys put together
wouldn't put on as much muscle as you and Carla have.  And
anyway, Howie and those guys don't work out or grow muscle at
all."


"Sure they do.  Our bodies are always replacing tissue.  That's
why they got weaker and weaker.  Even though they were in a
steady state, 80% of their new muscle went to Claire instead of
them.  Eventually, they hit a new equilibrium, and so they
stopped getting smaller, but Claire and all of us will keep
growing slowly, until you guys stop maturing.  That is, unless
the links are altered, which they will be once the Discovery is
launched and our latest model does its trick.  Then things will
be really fun, for me that is.  But don't worry, Mark.  I'm sure
you'll adapt and enjoy it too.  You adapted to Claire's muscles,
didn't you?  All you guys care about is scoring anyway.  You'd
probably fuck guys if that was your only option."


"Never!"


"Really?  You feel that strongly about it?  Well, I can't say I
blame you.  I find guys kind of disgusting too."


"That's not what I meant."


"So, it's ok for you to screw girls, but not for me.  What is it,
a religious thing for you?  A moral thing?"


"No.  It's just, it's ...  it's a real turn off."


"Wow.  I'm convinced.  Ha ha ha ha ha!  You don't know what
you're talking about.  I bet you don't know that slightest thing
about what turns you on.  I've heard guys think lesbian sex is a
real turn on.  Come on, tell me, when you were spying on Betsey
and me, weren't you getting aroused as you heard us panting,
kissing, taking off our clothes, licking each other's tits?  Look
at you.  I can see you getting hard just listening to me talk
about it."


"How did we get on to this topic anyway?  This isn't why I came
here."


"Who cares?  I let you come for laughs, and I'm having them."


I got up, but Wendy grabbed my arm and pulled me right back down. 
"Don't go yet.  Let me tell you something.  I bet at bottom, guys
won't even care when we've taken away their muscle.  They'll be
just as happy we're in control.  It takes all the pressure off.  
I bet you'd find that a real turn on.  Am I right?"


"No.  Let me go."


"Uh uh.  You just won't admit it.  That's what's so funny about
you guys.  You're dishonest, and you're completely out of touch
with your feelings.  I don't know why most girls are interested
in guys.  It doesn't make any sense to me.  Even when you claim
to be madly in love with us, you still think only of yourselves,
and you can't do half the things we do for each other all the
time."


"Well, obviously you're missing something."


"I don't think so. Maybe there are some things I don't understand
about girls -- we're so much more complex you know -- but I think
I know all I have to know about boys, and there isn't much to
it."  She looked at me.  "You don't like me, do you."


"No, not particularly."


"Yet I bet I turn you on as much as Claire does."


"What?  You're crazy."


"No I'm not.  That's how deep your sexuality runs.  Any girl
could turn you on so long as she knows the first thing about
being sexy.  I'll prove it to you."  I pulled my hand to get
away, but her grip was like a vise.  "Let's see.  You don't like
me.  You don't want to be here.  You say you don't have any
special fetish for muscular girls.  So I have three strikes
against me.  Right?  But I'll still hit this one out of the
park."  


She sat there, staring at me and licked her lips, breathing
heavily, making her bosom rise and then fall, jiggling a little
with each breath. I felt a little stir in my groin and closed my
eyes.  


"Whoa!  What this?  Eight seconds and you already have to try to
block me out.  Oops, sorry.  Wrong tone."  She went on in a
deeper voice.  "You're really very cute, Mark.  I like you
smaller.  I'd like to slip your thing inside me, where it's warm,
and wet, and very, very tight.  I can hold you very tight, you
know.  Don't you want to try me?"  She pulled me to her and
suddenly I was on her lap, my chest resting against her bosom,
which still rose and fell against me, the soft flesh rubbing,
sticking to me, while the muscles beneath rocked me slightly up
and down as she breathed.  I was falling for it.  I could feel
myself getting hard.  No!  I tried to think of something else,
but then her arm curled around my back and pulled me closer to
her, and softly, slowly, I felt myself enveloped between her arm
and her soft breasts.  I opened my eyes, and I was staring right
into hers.  She opened her legs and wrapped them around me,
pulling me down on top of her, and suddenly she was humping my
erect penis, rubbing me back and forth on top of her with her
hand pressed into my ass.  She pulled my hand under her shirt so
I could feel her soft breasts.  Damn, that tingling in my balls. 
I was going to come already!  Against my will, or at least part
of my will, I thrust myself closer to her, unable to resist the
thrilling feeling of exploding against her, and she laughed in
triumph.


"You see!  That's how faithful you are.  Sucking Carla's breasts
at lunch and humping me in the evening.  What further proof of
the depth of male feeling do you need?"


I was curled up, relaxed against her body when she said this, but
I immediately sprang up and stood on my feet, a little wobbly. 
"Feelings have nothing to do with it.  That was just my body."


"That's typical male bull.  You can't tell me your dick isn't
wired to your brain.  Either you're  totally faithless and
disloyal, or you lack any capacity for real feeling.  Either way,
you just prove my point that guys deserve to be weak and
subservient.  And you'll get what you deserve, for sure.  You
wouldn't dare do anything to us now, unless you want to spend the
rest of your life prone on a bed like Howie."


I got frightened and looked around frantically for the device.


"Got your attention didn't I?  Oh it's safely put away, but it's
got your genetic identifier in its memory.  Once your growth
frequency has been absorbed for the first time I can use it on
you no matter where you are.  The dimensional shifting isn't
limited by spatial distance. We've got your number and we can
call you any time, day or night."


I glared at her, biting my lip to keep myself from saying any
more.  It was pointless.


"We've thought of everything, Mark.  Hey, we've got it all.
Technology, desire, cunning and ruthlessness, not to mention
muscle."  She flexed again, flaunting her mountainous biceps. 
"And you can't even kick us in the balls.  Now how can you beat
that?"


12


It was a good thing the trip home was mostly downhill.  But even
as my body seemed to move in slow motion, my mind was racing from
one horrible image to the next.  Wendy, triumphantly lording it
over me.  Marcia, taunting me, using my own muscles, amplified,
against me.  Carla mocking me.  And then the future, where every
little girl would pack more power in her biceps than I'd have in
my whole body, where Wendy's man-hating corps would roam the
streets armed with her portable dimension shifters meeting out
justice as they saw it.  Was it even worth living, I thought, as
I pedaled into the garage.


I went upstairs and flopped onto the bed, exhausted, and closed
my eyes.  A short time later the phone rang, jarring me out of a
deep sleep.


"Hello?" I said hoarsely.


"Mark!  Are you all right?"


"Yeah, oh hi Claire.  Yeah, I was just taking a nap."


"What's wrong?  Are you sick?"


"No, no.  Just a bit tired.  Uh, how's it going?  How is your
Aunt Alice?"


"Not so great, but better than she was."


"That's good."


"I miss you Mark.  I can't wait to come home."


"Me too."


"You sound funny.  Hey, I keep getting new ideas.  Did you find
out anything new?"


"No," I said, very quickly.


"Oh. I see."  She didn't say anything for a couple of seconds. 
"I think I have to get off.  Will I see you Sunday?"


"Of course."


There was another silence.  "Mark, is there something you're not
telling me?"


I thought for a few seconds.  "No, Claire."


"Ok.  Sunday then."


"Bye Claire."


"Goodbye, Mark.  I love you, you know."


"I know.  I love you too."  I paused.  "A lot."  I felt like I
was going to cry.  "I have to go," I said, and I hung up.



13


Of course my parents noticed the change in me right away and
immediately called the family lawyer to add my name to the
lawsuit against the school and the hospital.  That would be their
first reaction.  Meanwhile, I spent most of Saturday and Sunday
moping around, trying to decide what to tell Claire when I saw
her Sunday evening.  It wasn't hard to decide, though.  I knew I
had no chance against Wendy alone.  My only chance, OUR only
chance, was to work together.


I was waiting for her at the bus station when she came back.  She
saw me and almost shrieked, then ran over and put her head on my
shoulder and cried.


"Oh Mark!  It happened to you too!"


"Yeah, well, and that's not the only thing.  We have a lot to
talk about.  But not here," I whispered in her ear.


She understood at once, and we walked home.  She chatted about
Scranton.  I didn't bother to offer to carry her suitcase.


Once we got home, she changed while I defrosted some food in the
micro.  She came in, looking totally smashing in a t-shirt and
shorts.  I was starting to find her muscles very attractive, and
I hugged her tightly.


"It's Wendy Martin, Claire.  She's got some kind of partnership
with a scientist.  They planted the device at the hospital, and
they used a portable one on me once they found out I knew.  Poor
Howie.  They reduced him to the strength of a baby, as a threat
tome, and told me they'd do the same to me if I told anyone.  So,
uh, we'll just have to make love tonight like it's our last
time."


"Mark!  Don't joke.  This is horrible!"


"Uh, there's something else.  Uh, Carla kind of seduced me.  It
was how they got me alone to use the machine on me.  They, uh,
got a video and --


Claire looked at me sharply, then laughed.  "So they're going to
blackmail you too? Ha ha ha!  It shows they're not as smart as
they think they are!"


I was relieved.  "You understand that I --


Laughing, she picked me up and pretended to shake me.  "If I ever
catch you with her again, I'll beat you senseless.  I mean," and
she put her hand on my crotch, "I'll beat it senseless so you
don't have the energy to do it again!"


"You're amazing, Claire."


"You know I love you, Mark.  And you're very brave.  Now, how are
we going to beat them?"


"I don't know, but I kind liked the part when you said you were
going to beat it senseless.  Can you show me what you mean?" 
Claire giggled.  She was still holding me in the air.  It was a
little scary just how much stronger than me she was now.  Of
course I trusted her completely, but one miscalculation on her
part and I could get really hurt.  I guess that's how girls
generally felt, and I didn't like it.


"I'd love to.  But I have to eat first.  I get a lot hungrier now
that I'm bigger."


"Hmm.  And I feel like I've lost my appetite."


"The muscle must affect metabolism.  You're going to have to
watch what you eat, at least until we get you back to normal."


"I'm not exactly hopeful."


"Well, here's the way I see it," she said, tackling a double-
sized portion of lasagna.  "Wendy doesn't know that I know, and
she must think we're not as tight as we are.  So we should
pretend to break up, for one thing."  She made a face.  "No more
hanging around in school!  Hey!   But we can pretend to have a
big fight!"


"I don't think so.  Let's not make it too complicated."


"OK.  You're right.  I'll just let it slip to Bonnie that I just
couldn't take your losing your muscle and we had a big fight. 
You just mope around school a lot.  That's easy.  Wendy'll get
even cockier.  We'll lay low for awhile."


"Yeah?  Then what?"


"Two things.  I'll get closer to Wendy.  See what I can find out. 
Maybe even meet this Betsey.  Who knows?  Maybe I can get them
into some kind of compromising situation."


"What do I do?"


"You find out everything you can about Betsey and the shuttle
launch.  We've got to find a way to wreck her equipment or stop
it from putting it on board."


I finished my salad and a couple of bites of lasagna.  "Eating
like this sucks.  I hope the sex is still good."  I winked at
her.


"Well, let's see." She pushed back from the table.  I stared at
my girl, her huge chest, solid shoulders and massive arms.  She
picked me up and threw me over her shoulder.  "Jane gonna carry
Tarzan up the tree!"  And she flew up the stairs, two at a time
and threw me onto her bed.


I have to say here, that there a few compensations to being a lot
smaller than Claire.  First, I can completely let go, banging
away at her without worrying about crushing or hurting her. 
Second, there's a lot more of her to touch, and all those muscles
make very interesting curves around her body.  And third, when
she comes, it's a ride like a roller coaster, and I hang on for
dear life.  It's not bad at all.


But I still wanted my body back.


My part of the plot was pretty boring, so I turned this part of
the book over to Claire.  She won't let me see what she's written
though.  She says it will be a surprise when it's finished. 


14 (Claire)


Poor Mark.  I still loved him and all, but it felt a little
funny, with him just so much smaller than I was.  Sometimes
making love to him almost felt like I was in bed with a woman, he
was so soft and slim.  Of course, that wonderful little thing
between his legs wasn't at all womanly, but it  didn't have quite
as much pep as it did before Wendy got to him.  It just didn't
fill me up as much.  I didn't want to tell him.  He was having
enough trouble being smaller, struggling with his books, with
being weaker than half the population.  The silly Marcia kept
picking on him too, and with our pretend break up, I couldn't
exactly threaten her.  Well, he was on his own with this one.  He
had to learn how to cope.  I wanted so much to baby him and take
care of him, but he was my boyfriend, not my baby.  It wouldn't
have felt right.


But the fact was, it didn't entirely feel right that my
boyfriend's thigh was smaller than my biceps, even before I
started flexing.  And it felt weird to me that he seemed as
turned on by me as ever, maybe even more so.  It's funny that
just when I think I've figured guys out, something happens that
surprises me.


And, to be honest, I had a few misgivings about our project too. 
I liked being strong.  It was great to walk the streets anywhere
and know that short of someone jumping me with a knife or
shooting me, I was pretty nearly invulnerable.  I'd even get
little fantasies about running into my Dad and giving him back
some of what he gave my Mom when I was growing up.  I don't think
I'd really do it.  Well, maybe I'd scare him a little, but I
wasn't really a fighting kind of person, even though I looked
like I could use Arnold to dust the counter.  Still, knowing I
could do it if I wanted to was so, so cool.  It made me want to
burst my buttons, which, to be honest, I could do any time if I
tried.


Anyway, it didn't take Wendy long to see that Mark and I broke
up.  She picked up pretty quickly that we weren't hanging out
together.  Good old Mark kept throwing longing glances my way in
class, so it looked like I had dumped him, which is what I wanted
her to think. I made a few choice remarks to Bonnie, and some to
Melody, and before too long Wendy came up to me after school.


"Hey Claire.  You busy this afternoon?"


"I've gotta get some groceries for dinner.  Some homework. 
That's about it."


"Come over to my place.  We can go for a swim."


"Uh, you sure?"


"Definitely.  I really want to get to know you better."


"You know I'm not gay?"


Wendy smiled.  "I like girls, whether or not I sleep with them. 
Come on.  I won't bite."


I agreed.  Wendy drove me in her little Mercedes, which was a
gorgeous little white convertible.  She didn't put any moves on
me, but I could see her eying my legs, and I felt a little burst
of warmth.  I had to admit I liked her body too.  Muscle looked
great on her, and I found myself wondering just what it would
feel like to hold her, to hold somebody stronger than I was. 
Then I put that out of my mind.


"So, you're not seeing Mark anymore."


"No, I broke it off with him.  Once that little wasting disease
thing finally got to him he started acting very strangely, like
he was trying to prove he was still a man.  It was really
annoying."


"I bet.  What did he do?"


I thought fast.  "Oh, you know.  He'd get bossy.  He got really
selfish when we were, you know, in bed.  He'd make all sorts of
demands, just to show me I couldn't take over."


"Sounds like a guy.  It must have been hard to resist putting him
in his place."


"Yeah.  Not that I'd hit him or anything.  But one time, when
started getting angry and pushing his finger into my chest I just
wrapped my hand around his little biceps and then looked down at
mine.  I made it pulse a little, just so he could see it, and
giggled.  It really took the air out of him."


She laughed.  "I would have loved to see it.  It must be hard for
him.  But ... tough!  So, are you changing your mind about being
strong?"


"I don't know.  Maybe.  It has its advantages, as you know."


"I think it's fantastic.  I just wish all women had this kind of
body."


"Oh?  You mean like yours and Carla's?"


"Yes.  And yours, Claire."  We pulled up to the driveway just
then and she pulled to a stop.  "No one's here.  How about a
little swim.  Au naturale?"


I blushed, which was a good response.  "Okay.  You sure no one's
around?"


"It's very quiet.  The gardener's left.  The maid is busy with
cooking, and the pool is very, very private, behind those hedges. 
Come on."


She took my hand and led me to the pool.  She was very self-
assured, that's for sure.  She got undressed right when we
arrived.  I was a bit awestruck by her body.  Her arms and
shoulders were even bigger than my own, and the muscles there
bulged in large circles, just like her breasts.  But I didn't
want to stare.  I undressed more slowly, then dove in, so I was
mostly under water.  It was warm and I felt very relaxed.


"You're very beautiful Claire."


"Uh, thanks Wendy.  It's kind of weird for me to hear a woman say
that to me, you know, in that way."


"Well, it's true."  She swam around me and hoisted herself up on
the side of the pool.  "You don't have any moral objections to
lesbians, do you?"


"Of course not."


"But you've never been with a woman sexually?"


"No.  I haven't wanted to."  I was feeling a little
uncomfortable.


"But aren't you even a tiny bit curious about what it would be
like?"


God, yes!  Of course I was curious.  I was curious about
everything.  But this was not at all what I'd planned. How did
she take the initiative so easily?  I struggled to take some
back.


"Oh, I don't know.  Maybe someday.  This is an incredible place."


She smiled.  "I'm making you nervous.  Yes, it's been pretty
comfortable.  Dad has some big plans, but he's around so seldom
I'm hoping he never gets around to changing things.  I hate the
idea of having all the builders around.  It would be enough to
drive me away.  Come on, let's get some sun."  She lay down on a
deck chair and after I did a couple of laps I followed.


"That was Mark's chair."


"Mark?!  He was here?"


"Didn't he tell you?"  I shook my head.  "I guess he wouldn't. 
He came by for an afternoon while you were gone."  She chuckled. 
"I really don't see why women go for men.  They are so
inadequate."


"Why are you saying that?  What was Mark doing here?"


"Well, I suppose I shouldn't be telling you this, but he said he
wanted to come by to talk to me.  I took him out here, and it
didn't take long for him to try to put some moves on me.  I let
him touch me, of course.  I knew I could stop him any time if I
wanted.  But he came so quickly I didn't have to worry about
anything.  It was kind of pathetic, you know, the way he
scrunched up his body just before he came.  It's so different
with women.  We scream for all the world to hear when we come. 
It's like men are ashamed of it.  You know what I mean?"


I was shocked.  She could be making all this up.  But, so much
for retaking the initiative.  Damn she was clever.  And she was
right.  He did make a funny face right before he'd come.  But
maybe that's what all men did.  How did I know?


"Are you upset?  I'm sorry.  I figured you knew and that's why
you broke things off."


"No, I didn't.  I --


"I'm really sorry.  Hey, men are like that.  They've got these
raging hormones, and they really can't control themselves.  Not
that I'm so beautiful.  Not like Carla."  She paused for a
minute.  Was she going to tell me about that too?  "But I think
they like women with strong bodies.  And I for one can understand
that.  But it's funny.  They say women are ruled by hormones,
when it's really the other way around.  I mean look what the men
in Islamic countries do to women, just to prevent temptation for
themselves.  It's so ridiculous and unfair.  Don't you think so?"


"Oh, yeah.  Definitely."  My mind was racing.  Was there more to
this situation than Mark had told me?  I had to find out.  I had
to get more out of Wendy.


I turned toward her on the chair.  "You are so different from
what I thought when I met you at the beginning of the year.  So
much more assertive.  I never would have guessed, and I'm usually
very perceptive about people."


"I know you are, Claire.  I sensed that in you right away.  It
was very kind of you to be nice to me, even if I did act like
such a geek early on.  But, uh, I had to.  I, uh, wasn't sure
that I could be myself here."


That was the first sign of hesitation on her part.  I pressed on. 
"It seemed like getting stronger made you a new person.  But I
have to say, it still doesn't all make sense to me.  You're a bit
of a mystery, Wendy.  And you like it that way."


"And you don't like mysteries!  Well, I want you to like me,
Claire.  I really do."  She seemed torn.  


Actually, I did like mysteries.  I just didn't like them to stay
mysteries.  But I sensed things were going the right way, so I
didn't correct her.   Instead, I got up and started to get
dressed.  "I'm getting a little chilled."  I knew that was the
last thing she wanted me to do.  She took my arm.  "Claire!  Did
you really break up with Mark?"  Her grip was really strong.  She
was hurting me a little.  My eyes watered with the beginning of
tears, which I made no effort to stop.  I tried to pull away.  


"Yes!"  I cried, emotionally. "What's it to you!"


"I'm sorry Claire. I just had to know.  I --


She let go of my wrist and put her arm tenderly on my back.  "I
really like you Claire.  I mean, if you ever wanted to see what -
-


She trailed off.  Now I felt really guilty. I was manipulating
her, and she was being sincere.  I sat down on the chair. 
"That's ok.  It's a hard time for me.  I really loved him.  I
mean, I thought I did.  I can't believe he was hitting on you!"


"Well."  She took a deep breath.  "Please don't hate me for this,
Claire.  You know, I, uh, I did encourage him a little.  I could
see he liked the way I look.  I guess I was trying to prove
something to myself.  I'm sorry if that hurts you.  Really.  It's
the last thing I'd want to do to you."


My stomach was doing flips.  She really was sincere.  I stared at
her body.  The large muscular chest, the large breasts, her round
biceps, ready to hold me close if I so much as made a move.  And
I couldn't believe how I wanted to.  I struggled to keep my
distance, but I could feel myself getting flushed and tingly. 
Why, oh why!  This wasn't at all what I planned.  Then I asked
myself, or was it?


"Claire, there's something else.  You know, Mark's getting weak. 
All the boys in biology class.  It's because of me.  Me and uh a
friend of mine."


Now I was really floored.  She was just telling me this. I didn't
even have to sneak around.  I'd been at her house for an hour and
she was trusting me with this already!


"Wh-wh-what are you talking about?  How could you --


"I can't explain it.  Well, I could, a little, but I don't want
to right now.   Mark didn't tell you, huh?  Well, at least he
keeps his promises, under threat.  Good for him.  But my friend
developed a strength transfer machine.  We tested it out on
biology class that day in the hospital.  That's how we all got so
big."


"And what about Mark? He wasn't there when it happened."


"Uh, I did that.  Last week.  He found out.  He spied on us. 
Then he told Howie.  Luckily Howie's sister told me.  I took care
of both of them.  I don't think they'll bother me, but I don't
know.  When you come to think of it, he really doesn't have much
to lose.  We're uh, gonna do it to everyone.  Everyone in the
world next fall.  Then he'd get hit anyway, no matter what I do
to him now."


"That's incredible, Wendy.  I can't believe it."


"Oh, I'll show you everything.  I have the portable in my house. 
I haven't had a chance to return it.  My friend's been in
Houston, working on the Shuttle project.  That's how we're going
to do it in the Fall.  She's got a slot on the launch."


"I can't believe you can do that, that you would do that.  I
mean, it's playing God, isn't it?"


"I don't know.  I don't believe in God.  It's using the knowledge
we have to benefit humanity.  I really believe that Claire.  Men
make such a mess of things, and yet somehow they're in control. 
And just for one reason.  Strength.  They beat us, they
intimidate us, dominate us.  All over the world.  It's so stupid. 
We're designed so stupidly.  We are more sensitive, more
sophisticated, more perceptive.  We live longer.  We bear and
raise children.  We are so much more important to the world.  And
yet we're second class citizens."


I had to say something.  "But women's lib has changed that."


"No way!  How can you say that?  Only for a very tiny minority. 
And that's no different from the way things have always been.  A
tiny minority of privileged women can lead independent lives, but
the rest serve man.  And at bottom for just one reason.  Because
they know and we know that if we don't, they'll beat us.  They're
savage enough to do that.  You know I'm right, don't you?"


What could I say.  It happened to my own mother, who still
worries every night that my father would come back to hurt her.


"I-I-I don't know.  It seems like such a big thing to do.  What
if something went wrong?"


"You're right.  Of course, we're testing it very carefully.  But
we've never hurt anybody.  It works very simply.  Look at the
results.  We're stronger.  The boys are weaker.  And other than
that, everything is just the way it was."


So there it was.  It hadn't taken much to get her to tell me. 
But now that I knew I had no idea what to do.  Go back to Mark
and plot with him?  But he had betrayed me not once, with Carla,
but twice.  And I could understand Carla.  I mean, no man could
resist her, and maybe she used a little force too.  But Wendy? 
No.  I couldn't just run back to him.  But could I trust Wendy
either?  For now, I could trust only myself.  But what did I
want?  It was one of the rare times in my life that I had no
idea.


"You look really shaken, Claire.  I'm really sorry.  I've dumped
a whole lot of shit on you, haven't I?"


"You sure have."


"Let's get dressed.  Marie can make us a salad and some
sandwiches, and she does a great chocolate pudding.  I think we
can handle it."


"Hah.  One nice thing about being muscular.  I can eat a lot
more!"


"Absolutely.  And do I love to eat!  Come on.  Let's get
dressed."  She jumped up and held out her hand for me to help me
up.  I blushed again . . . and took it. 


15 (Mark)


Claire was really distant that evening, when she finally got home
from Wendy's.  I wanted to come over, but she said she had too
much to do.  Then she wanted to get off the phone.  Shit, I
thought. Wendy probably made some remark about how easily she
made me come, but that wasn't my fault.  At least, not like the
thing with Carla.  I tried to explain, but Claire just said,
"another time, Mark" and hung up.  I couldn't believe it.


The rest of the day hadn't gone so well either.  I visited Howie,
who was still too weak even to talk.  Marcia still seemed pretty
guilty, but not so guilty that she didn't pinch my ass on my way
out.  Then I went to the library and tried to get more
information on Betsey Moore.  I found out about her education
(Harvard) , her publications (all of which were completely
incomprehensible to me) and her career (Harvard, Stanford,
Princeton, Cal Tech).  Intimidating and unhelpful.


And now Claire was treating me like the plot wasn't an act.


16 (Claire)


Wendy didn't try to put the moves on me the rest of the afternoon
and drove me home herself after dinner and homework.  It was fun
being with her.  She had an outrageous sense of humor.  I knew
she liked me, and that made me feel good, because I felt like I
could decide where to go with it.  But I also knew it wouldn't be
fair to stay on the fence for too long.  But I kept that in the
back of my mind.  After all, this was just our first time alone
together.


I was enjoying these thoughts when Mark called.  He started right
off whining about how much he hated being weak, and then about
how boring his research was.  I felt like telling him to just
forget it the whole thing, but I didn't.  He sure noticed my mood
and make a belated sort of half-confession that something had
happened at Wendy's, but that it wasn't his fault.  I really
didn't want to hear it, and I told him that if he tried that kind
of crap on me another time I'd never see him again.  I think he
got the message, especially when I hung up, but like Wendy said,
you never really know with boys.  They don't really listen to
what you say.  


Thinking about it later, I realized I wasn't being totally honest
with him either, but it was his fault that I didn't trust him
anymore.  But Claire, I said to myself, you ought to hear him
out.  You know he loves you.  But then, that was the problem.  He
probably did love me, but what kind of love was it?  And did he
mean the same thing when he said he loved me as I did when I said
it or heard him say it?  He should have told me everything.  Back
and forth I went, like a yo-yo, until I got tired of it and
decided to eat some chocolate Hagen Dazs, which made me feel a
little better.  I was ready to go to sleep when my Mom came home,
all tired from another long day.  I felt guilty that I hadn't
made her any dinner, so I told her to take a shower and I tossed
a salad for her before I got ready for bed.  That made me feel
better about myself, for the moment anyway.  Then the phone rang. 
I let my mother pick it up.


"Claire!  It's for you.  A Wendy.  Should tell her you're already
in bed?"


"No Ma.  I'll take it."  I went into her room for the phone.


"Wendy?"


"Claire.  I just wanted . . . .  Are you alright?"


"Yeah, sure."


"I'm just sorry I laid so much on you today. I really wanted us
to be friends.  I think I said too much.  I always come on too
strong, you know."  She laughed. "Even before I got strong."


"That's all right.  I had a great time.  It was interesting.  No. 
I don't mean that.  I mean . . . it was fun."


"Really?"


"Yeah.  I mean . . . I'm not sure how I feel about all this," I
said slowly, "but can we go swimming again some time?"


"Oh yes!  Any time.  How about . . . no I can't.  I have to see .
. . Um, Thursday?"


"Sure.  Ok."


"Great.  We'll drive home.  You have a license?"


"Yeah, sure."


"You can drive then.  It's a great car.  Ok.  See you tomorrow."


"Def.  Bye."


I put down the phone.  What was I doing?!!!



17 (Mark)


Claire was really bitchy again at school, and now I wasn't sure
whether it was real or an act.  I was really miserable.  It
wasn't just Claire.  A group of senior girls had discovered that
some of the brainy sophomores were weak as kittens, and had been
enjoying bullying them.  Now I was a target too.  Peg White had
picked me as her victim.  She was shorter than me, only 5'6", but
in my weakened condition height didn't much matter.  It was
muscle, and that was one thing I didn't have. And even though she
was a girl, as a varsity field hockey player she had more than
enough to handle me.


Anyway, I was putting my books away and getting ready to meet the
guys for lunch when I felt a hand on my belt.


"Hey nerd.  Got some homework for you to do."


"Oh, hi Peg."  I looked down at the papers.  Algebra!  She was
still doing algebra?


"I really think you ought to do it yourself Peggy.  You'll never
learn it if I --


She put her hand on my chest and pushed me against the wall.  I
pushed back, but she had more strength in her female arm than I
could muster.


"Ha!  If all guys were like you, it would be so much fun.  Come
on, let's see you struggle, pipsqueak."


I should have just stopped, but that wasn't my style.  I put my
hands  on her wrist and tried to push it back using both arms,
but my strength was just so pathetic.  She closed her first
around my shirt and pulled me away, sending me crashing against
the other wall.


"Wow.  You really fly!"  She dropped her work in my notebook. 
"Give it to me by homeroom so I can copy it."


Just then, Claire came around the corner.  She quickly figured
out what had happened and came running up.  She shoved Peg
against the wall herself.  


"If I catch you bothering him once more, I'll flatten you, Peg
White, in more ways than one."


I could see Peg look at Claire's arm and doing a quick
calculation.  She certainly was good at that kind of math,
because she took her homework carefully out of my locker and
backed away.


"Thanks, Claire.  Listen, about last night."


She glared at me.   "It's over, Mark.  Don't you understand
that."


I looked around.  There was no one in sight.  "Yeah, I know
Claire but --


"Don't call me, okay.  I've had enough."  She kind of grimaced
and then hurried away.


Now I was really confused.  Was this part of our act?  It sure
didn't sound like it.  And when she didn't return my calls that
night and the next, I really started getting suspicious.  Then I
decided, what I am talking about, suspicious?  She's dumped me
for real.  I'd caught her staring at Wendy in class a lot this
week, smiling at each other across the class. I'd thought it was
an act, but it was real!  It was the whole plot idea that was a
cover.  All along what she really was into was her muscle, and
once I figured out what was going on, she dumped me and ran right
into the arms of the girl who's causing the whole problem.  I'm
not stupid.  Well fuck her, the pervert!  So she was the enemy
now.  Well, I could play at that game, and I had a good idea just
where to start.



18 (Claire)


I can be really bad sometimes.  There was just too much in my
life right now.  I wasn't being very nice to Mark, but I couldn't
take any chances.  I'd decided that for better or worse, I was on
my own, and I had to be free to do what I thought best.  So much
for the plot and teamwork.  That would have to sort itself out
later.  Part of me just wanted to cry and call Mark up and say I
was sorry, but I couldn't do that.  I had to figure out myself
what was best.


I talked to Wendy for an hour on the phone Tuesday night and
again Wednesday.  It was so nice and simple.  She had so much, I
don't know, force about her, but she was also quick and intuitive
and sensitive.  I'd never even considered the idea that a lover
could be that way.  For all of Mark's good qualities, he didn't
pick up on a lot of things.  I really had to spell things out for
him.  But Wendy caught on right away.  It was spooky almost.


I couldn't sleep Wednesday night, just thinking about seeing her
Thursday and wondering exactly what I was going to do.  I hardly
heard a word in class, then when the bell rang I stuffed my books
into my locker and ran down to the parking lot.  I'd beaten her
to her car, but she wasn't far behind, and she smiled when she
saw me.


"Claire!"


She clicked the door open and tossed me the keys, and we squealed
out of the lot.


"Can we go to the beach?"


"Sure.  Anywhere you want."


I headed out to the beach.  The car was a dream to drive, so
responsive and smooth.  I got a kick out of revving it up to pass
cars, then slowing down.  I didn't want a ticket after all.  We
went over the bridge and were at the beach in no time, laughing
all the way.


"You know Claire, I hardly slept last night."


The words came out of my mouth before I had time to stop them. 
"Me neither.  I was really excited.  I --


"Then Claire -- why are we at the beach?"  She looked at me and I
blushed -- again.  I stared straight ahead.


"Uh, right."  I took a couple of deep breaths.  "Maybe you better
drive."  I opened the door and went around to the other side. 
She'd opened her door, but was just sitting there, waiting for
me.


"Come here, Claire.  Sit on my lap, just for a minute."  I nodded
and sat down gently.  She closed her arms around me, feeling my
breasts.  "You're nice and soft up there, Claire, like I knew
you'd be."  Her hands were very strong and sweet.  I wanted more. 
My whole body was tingling.  I turned around and put my mouth on
hers.  She was so sweet.  "Mmmm.  You're lovely, you know that? 
I'm going to ruin the leather on these seats!"  We both laughed. 
"Let's go home.  Now I'll show you how fast this car can go!"  I
nodded, but first I put my head down on her chest and let her
stroke my hair for a minute, feeling the softness of her large
breasts with my cheek while I lightly touched her bulging arm.  I
felt that if I could stay right there and wrap myself around her
I could come over and over without her doing anything else.  But
then I heard a car coming and I jumped up, almost hitting my head
on the ceiling.  She slid under me into the driver's seat and we
slammed the door shut and pulled away, just as the car full of
guys screeched to a stop next to us, shouting "fucking lesbos!"


At that moment, I wanted her to launch the satellite tonight. 



19 (Mark)


Of course that bitch Wendy didn't keep her word about restoring
Howie's strength in a week, so for the moment I was on my own. 
I'd found Dr. Moore's email address and I sent her a message that
I needed to meet with her alone.   No tricks, I promised, and we
could meet anywhere she wanted.  Amazingly, she wrote back and
agreed.  So at about 4:00 on Thursday afternoon I biked to her
office.  I knocked on the door and she let me in.


So there I was.   If I had brought a bomb, I could have blown up
the whole installation, as well as the woman who designed it, and
saved humanity right there.  But I didn't have a bomb, at least,
not the usual kind.


"So, you're the guy who was spying on us."  She looked me over. 
"Wendy took pity on you, I see.  You can still get around."


"Yeah, well you guys have practically killed my best friend."


"Howard Markham?"  She nodded.  "He's set to get some of his
strength back shortly.  It will happen automatically.  So, what
do we have to talk about, Mr. Goldman."  


"Please.  Call me Mark."


She laughed.  "Right.  What are you, sixteen?"


"Um, in a month.  Listen.  First, I want to tell you that what
you're doing is wrong.  It's not fair to --


"Spare me the ethics lecture please.  I reviewed this issue over
and over again before I invested the time in building the device,
and the conclusion is clear that the redistribution of strength
from male to female will lead to a net increase in utility. 
Research on social harmony within small groups of dominant
females, whether within the few matriarchal societies or unusual
instances of female-dominated households within a large
patriarchal context shows that in such societies resources tend
to be more efficiently allocated, instances of violence are more
isolated, infant mortality declines significantly.  The only two
negative effects appears to be some degree of economic stagnation
and an impoverishment of the arts, which interestingly are also
associated with planned socialist economies.  Doubtless more
studies will be done on the matter in the future, but I am sure
that solutions to these problems will be found."


"Wow.  I guess you'd already thought about it.  But you'll be
turning everything upside down."


"That's exactly the point now, isn't it?"


I had never run into someone like her before.  All the
discussions I'd had were in school, where there were either
supposed to be two points of view, and you could talk all you
want, or there was just one and you had to write it down.  Now I
knew there were two points of view on this matter.  Mine was
right, and I had to convince her she was wrong. But she seemed to
be completely set in her opinion.  How was I going to do it?


I started again.  "But what you're doing must be against the
law."


"I'm going to reshape the entire society!  What do I care about
law?"


"I'll report you.  I'll tell NASA!"


"Oh yes.  You may try but they will not take you very seriously. 
But even if they investigated they wouldn't find anything.  My
physics are so far beyond contemporary science that they have no
way of measuring the radiation I produce, so long as the device
is inactive.  And it is so well camouflaged they'll never find
it."


I stared at her.  I'd have to get a bomb and blow up this
building, and her too.  It was the only way. 


"Poor boy.  You will be one of the victims, but I am sure you
will adapt.  You all will.  In fact, I believe Wendy told me that
you're dating one of the girls who were in the experiment, so I
can see that you will be quite happy in the end.  Now why don't
you run home to your girlfriend and let me get on with my work."


I glared at her.  "I can't.  She and your 'girlfriend' are busy
together.  I've been dumped just like you."  Dr. Moore looked
startled.  "You mean, you didn't know?"


"No I -- are you sure?"


"I wouldn't be here if I weren't.  You see we -- oh never mind."


She sat down, looking very upset.  "Of course, she is very young
for me, but I-I-I was very fond of her.  She's very mature for
her age.  She has a certain  -- oh, why am I telling you this?! 
You're just a boy!"


"I bet she wasn't even going to tell you!  I bet she was just
using you."


"How dare you say that!  She --


Suddenly she buried her head in her hands and started crying,
sniffling more, but moaning every 15 seconds or so.  It really
was an awful sound.


"I'm sorry, Dr. Moore.  I really didn't mean to hurt you like
that.  You just got me angry when you told me to get out.  But
I'm really sorry."


"Oh you can't possibly understand what I'm feeling.  It was the
first time I had . . . expressed my feelings for someone so
freely.  And I thought she loved me.  It was just for the
satellite.  I'm sure of it."


A thought popped into my mind.  "Does that mean you're not going
to launch it after all?"


She snapped her head around at me.  "It means nothing of the
sort.  What I do is my business.  But that little bitch won't any
say in it, that's for sure."  She got up and was walking around
the laboratory, looking for something.  "She's taken it!  I knew
I couldn't trust her.  I should never have trusted her.  I can't
trust anybody!"


"Taken what?  Your plans?"


"Oh no.  No one can take that from me.  The portable model.  The
test.  That's okay.  I can fix that.  I can deactivate it from
here.  If I adjust the polarizing spread to a narrow E band and
unfold the radiation hyperdimensionally, it will --


"Could I ask you a favor?"


"What?  Are you still here?"


"Is there any way I could get my strength back, at least until
you launch the satellite.  So I could enjoy the last few months
like a real boy?"


She looked at me and smiled.  "Why not?  Why not?  What she did,
I can undo, in seconds."  She disappeared into a room and aimed a
device at me.  "There, it's done."


"Wait, I don't feel any --


"I SAID IT'S DONE!!"  She took her glasses off and cleaned them. 
"Sorry.  I am very upset.  Would you please leave now?  I have
done what you've asked.  I would like to be alone."


"Uh okay.  But would you just think about what I --


"NOW!!"


"OK OK."


I jumped up and left, closing the door a bit too loudly I
suppose, but so long as I was on the outside of it I don't think
she minded.  What a crazy lady!  A real mad scientist, I
chuckled.  Suddenly I felt all warm inside, and happy.  I looked
at my arms.  I was back to normal!  At least for the moment. 
Then I felt another burst of energy.  I was still growing, larger
and larger, until I was twice as muscular as I had been
originally.  This was great!  I wanted to go back and thank her,
but then I decided to leave well enough alone.  The trip back was
a breeze.  And if Dr. Moore had really deactivated the device
Wendy had, I wouldn't have to be afraid of her anymore.  So long
as they stayed mad at each other, which meant that I had to keep
Claire and Wendy together.


This was getting very complicated.



20 (Claire)


Wendy did drive back quickly, but not so quickly that I didn't
have time for half a dozen daydreams about what we would do when
we got back.  Each one was getting me hotter and hotter.  But
then a little thought got in the way, and it started getting
bigger and bigger.


"Uh, Wendy.  Could I ask you a favor?  I mean, before we, you
know."


"Anything my sweet."


"Could you bring Mark, and his friend Howie, back to the way they
were last week?  I feel so horrible about them."


"But Claire, if they don't feel threatened they might blow the
whole project."


"I could explain it to Mark, that if he gets just one step out of
line we'll take his strength away again."


"Mmmm.  I like the way you said 'we.'  It sounds so good from
that luscious mouth of yours.  All right.  As soon as we get
home.  I want your full attention this afternoon."


"I'm glad I'm not driving.  I'd all over the place."


"That's where I'll be with you my honey."


I couldn't believe I was having this conversation with a woman,
but by now I was dying of curiosity and literally dripping with
anticipation.  We went right upstairs to her room -- it was
really more like a wing of the house -- and she went into a safe
and took out a little device that looked like a hair dryer.


"This will end up taking some of the muscle back from Marcia,
but, hey, you're more important to me than that little twerp." 
She pushed a couple of buttons.  "There.  It's done."


"That easily?"


"Well, it's easy to push buttons.  I have no idea how to build
it.  Only Betsey can do that."


"Betsey?"


"She's my -- whoops! -- my, uh, friend."


"Sounds like more than a friend to me."


"Oh Claire!  Don't be jealous!  I - I want you so much.  It's
totally different with Betsey.  If you met her you'd -- but I
don't think you'll meet her."


"Oh?  Why not?"


"Um, I don't think she'd like the idea of you.  I think, as a
matter of fact, that she'd go crazy if she knew about you."


"God, Wendy!  I can't believe this is just coming up now!  I
mean, we were just about -- I don't know.  You --


"Claire, please believe me.  I've been thinking of nothing but
you for the last four days!  I mean, I haven't exactly been
planning this, I mean, other than trying to get you here.  I just
. . . if I'd thought about it . . . but that's the whole thing. 
I didn't think of it.  I wasn't hiding anything.  I just am so
damn in love with you."  She seemed really desperate about it.


I looked at her.  I couldn't really complain.  After all, until
last week I was with Mark.  But I had given him the boot.


"Claire.  I love you.  I do not love Betsey.  You have to believe
me."


Wendy wasn't perfect.  She was formidable, smart, assertive,
attractive and rich.  And imperfect.  And she was saying she
loved me.  I couldn't back down now.


"Wendy?"


"Yes my pumpkin."


"Do you taste as good as you smell?"


She laughed. "Well, why don't you come here and find out?"


It was an afternoon of adventure, long and slow and thrilling. 
Endless periods of gentle sucking and kissing, followed by
frightening explosions of passion that circled back into the
trembling stimulants of tongue and finger, of lips and eyes, of
nipple on nipple, and of course the heavenly clit.  The rhythm of
sex with Wendy was otherworldly.  It had no beginning or end. 
Each climax was simply a step toward another, each lull a
gathering of force, an awakening of new sensitivity.  And she
too, experienced as she was, seemed grow more and more alive with
discovery, as if our bodies were teaching us what neither had
known before, but what they had known for eons.


I can't really describe all the things I felt that afternoon.  In
fact, I don't know if we ever would have stopped, except for a
knocking at the door that I thought at first was our hearts and
only slowly realized it was Marie, growing panicked suddenly at
the thought that she might have to enter and see if we were still
alive.


"Yes, Marie.  I'm sorry.  What is it?"


"Oh Miss Wendy.  Please I am so sorry to interrupt.  But this
girl Marcia she has called so many times.  This is the tenth. 
She says it is an emergency and I must get you.  Oh I am so
sorry.  Please forgive me but --


"That's all right, Marie. I'm sorry we worried you.  I'll pick
up."


She turned to me. "The stupid little twerp.  Probably complaining
that she's lost the muscle I gave her.  Well I can fix that. 
We'll find another victim."  She motioned to a phone.  "You pick
up too."


"Hello?  Yes Marcia?"


"Wendy!  At last!  Oh I'm so glad you're home.  Oh it's
horrible!"


"You lost your strength.  I know.  Look, we'll fix it in the
morning, ok?  Just relax.  It'll be all right."


"You will?  Oh thank you, but it's not just me.  Mark.  He's here
and --


"Yes, yes, I know about that too.  I did a favor for" she looked
at me "a friend -- a special friend, a very, very special friend
who --


"But why'd you make him so big?  I mean, he's twice as big as he
ever was.  And now Howie's back to normal too, and they're being
so mean to me!"


Wendy flashed an angry look.  "What do you -- come on Marcia. 
Stop exaggerating.  You probably just got used to seeing him
small.  I know what I'm doing and --


"No.  You're not listening.  I'm telling you, he's huge.  He
never looked like that before.  I mean, he's not like you, but
he's as, as big as -- oh shit I don't know.  Ohmygod, they're
looking for me.  I have to hang up.  Do something.  Pleeeeeeez!"


"What a putz she is!"


I laughed.  "She is a pain.  I can't believe you've gotten
involved with her."


"Stupid of me, but she had 'valuable information,'" stressing the
last two words by speaking in deep tones.  We both cracked up and
lay intertwined for a moment, savoring the combined odors of our
bodies.  It was completely intoxicating.  But then Wendy sat up.


"I have to find out what happened.  If this is the first
miscalculation, there may be others."  She picked up the device
and checked it.  "Hey!  It's gone dead.  That shouldn't ever
happen!  Claire, there's something going on here.  You didn't --


The shocked and outraged look on my face triggered wide eyes and
tears on Wendy's.  "Oh I am so sorry my flower!  I can't believe
I said that.  Oh please, please forgive me.  I don't know what is
wrong with me."


I couldn't scold her.  I nodded.  "I understand.  Uh, why don't
you call your uh friend?"


"This is going to be so embarrassing.  Claire, you understand if
I don't say anything, just now, about us."


"Yeah, I do.  It's -- but yeah."


"Oh Claire, you are so wonderful!"  She took me in her arms and
held me tight while I let my arms roam along her muscular back,
feeling those large hard arms, holding me so expertly.  I felt
like my will had shrunk to just an inch high.  I just wanted
Wendy.


But all too soon it ended.  Wendy grabbed the phone and dialed
one number -- no answer.  Then another.  She looked very
concerned and paused a couple of seconds before dialing a third
number.  She didn't ask me to pick up the extension.


"Betsey!  Are you all right?"


"What do you mean how dare I call you on --


Wendy's eyes widened.  "How can you -- but -- he what?  And you -
- Betsey no!"  She held out the phone. "She hung up on me."


"What happened?


"It appears that your ex-boyfriend visited Betsey.  She wasn't
very happy to hear that we were together."


"Mark?"


"She's terminating our project, at least that what she's telling
me.  She doesn't ever want to see me, and she warned me never to
call her again, or else she'd make both of us so weak we'd never
get out of bed again."  She pursed her lips. "She'd do it too."


I was all mixed up inside.  I hated to see Wendy so upset, but
this solved everything.  I could stay with Wendy, I didn't have
to worry about Mark anymore, and Wendy would stay with me.


"You know, Wendy, you still have me!  I'm not leaving you."


"Oh Claire!  You are so wonderful!"  She buried her head in my
breasts and sobbed loudly for a long time while I stroked her
hair.  I couldn't have been happier.



20 (Mark)


Ha!  In one afternoon I'd made a lot of progress.  Howie was back
to normal.  I had the kind of body I'd always dreamed of, and I'd
destroyed Wendy's little team.  Now I'd have to find a way to
kill Dr. Moore's project entirely, but how hard could that be
after I'd made such a good start.


Howie and I had such a great time that afternoon too -- just like
old times.  Marcia was almost down to normal again, but even
though she was still stronger than the typical twelve year old
girl, even Howie could handle her easily again, while I could
nail her to the floor with just one hand.  I almost felt sorry
for her, but she deserved everything.  Tickling her into
unconsciousness, typing her diary onto the school's internet
bulletin board, and a few painful pinches from me.  She wouldn't
be able to sit on her bruised little ass for some time.


Howie and I worked a bit on penetrating the NASA computers, but
we got nowhere.  It was hard to concentrate, we were so happy. 
There was always tomorrow.  But we were on top of the world.  We
browsed some XXX sites together, then sat around talking about
Carla and how amazing her body was.  It was like old times.


21 (Claire)


I took one look at Mark the next morning at school and almost
choked up my breakfast.  What a body!  His shoulders were broad,
his arms had muscles like melons.  His calves seemed to explode
with each step he took.  I could only imagine his abs.  Oh, I
know my muscles were still larger, but somehow his looked so
sexy.  I felt faint with desire, with fear, with confusion.  How
could I want them both?  What should I do?  Then when I gave him
a little smile, just to let him know I was pleased he was back to
normal, and more, he snarled at me and turned away.  How could
he?  It's not like he knew how unfaithful I'd been to him (not
yet!).  I knew I'd have to tell him about what happened with
Wendy, but couldn't he see I was just confused, that I really
loved him too?  Oh, I had always been so good at reading him, but
somehow this week I'd been so besotted with Wendy I lost all my
sense of how to get to him.  This was awful.


And then when I saw Wendy, she ran right up to me and hugged me,
and suddenly I wasn't so sure I wanted everyone in school to
think I was gay.  I pushed her a little and gave her a warning
look and she stared at me, hurt, and ran away crying.  And I
couldn't run after her.  Everyone was watching me.  That would
just confirm it.  My reputation would be set.


Suddenly, I felt like a very ordinary teenage girl.  And mommy
was busy at work!


I ran outside, the opposite way from Wendy, down to the far
bleachers and put my head down and sobbed.  I half expected Mark
to be looking out for me, to help me, but he didn't come!  I was
alone.  Oh I was lost with unhappiness.  I slammed my fist
against one of the boards and smashed it in two.  Then I hit
another one, and another, before I realized that might not be
such a good idea.  But it made me feel a little better.


Then I saw Wendy standing at the opposite end of the football
field, watching me from very far away.  I stared at her.  I had
no idea what to do.  Part of me wanted to run up to her, hold
her, feel her strong arms holding me.  And another part wanted to
wave a magic wand and make her disappear.  And then I looked up
again and she was gone.  I ran down the field to see where, and
then I saw her little Mercedes tear out of the school parking
lot.  I couldn't let her go like that.  I screamed and waved,
then heard her brakes squeal and saw her back up.  I ran to the
car and got in.


"Oh Wendy!  I'm so sorry.  I --


She looked at me, her lips quivering.  "Claire.  Claire.  Don't
break my heart, please.  I opened up to you last night like a
flower.  Don't step on the petals."   Then it struck her, and she
laughed at her own remark.


I smiled.  "That's pretty melodramatic, isn't it?"


"Yeah, I know."


"Wendy.  I do love you, you know.  But I can't be part of your
gay crowd.  That's not me."


"I know.  That's one of the things I love about you.  I'm sorry. 
It, uh, it was a little manipulative of me to PDA you like that,
wasn't it?"


"Uh huh."  I shook my head.  "It's so different with you.  You
understand, you share, you admit when you're wrong.  You talk
about your feelings, real feelings, good and bad.  Why can't boys
do that?"


"I don't know.  They're different."


"Yeah.  But Wendy.  I like boys too."


"I know.  I bet being in love with a boy is like being the only
sighted person in a world of blind people.  You see things they
don't.  It gives you a lot of power."


"Yeah, except sometimes that blind person is a blind elephant. 
You have to be nimble to get out of the way."


"Most girls.  Not you though.  Not anymore.  Thanks to Betsey."


We sat in the car.  I could hear the bell ring for English class
and ignored it.  "Did you talk to Betsey?"


"She's gone.  Cleaned out our lab.  Won't pick up our secret
phone.  I checked with her university, and she faxed a
resignation last night, right in the middle of her sabbatical.  I
have no idea where she is. "


"What about the Discovery?  Would she work at NASA until the
launch?"


"I don't know.  She's as committed to the project as I am, so I
think she'll go through with it.  But she sounded so angry last
night.  Who knows what she'll do?  She can do most of the NASA
work from anywhere, just so long as she arranges the installation
of the equipment in October and is on hand when it has to be
turned on.  They're used to dealing with her by phone and the
Internet."


"I've really messed things up for you Wendy."


"Yeah.  I suppose."


"And, uh, you know I'll probably end up with Mark.  If he ever
talks to me again."


She nodded, keeping her lips tight.  Now I felt a howl coming up
from inside and I burst out crying. She held me as I shook with
the force of my sobs.  "Oh Wendy!  How can I do this?"


"I don't know, you goose."


I sat back in the seat and stared ahead, then smiled.  "Wendy . .
. have you ever had sex with a boy?"


"I don't think there's anything I haven't done at least once." 
She laughed.  "Do you think he'd go for it?"


I nodded slowly. "I think so.  If I played it right.  Mark would
have to think you want it.  Of course, he's already seduced you
once.


"Yeah, well, there might have been just a little force used on my
side too."


"You are very BAD, Wendy."


"I know."


"I love you.  Oh Wendy then . . . you know, nothing could ever
compare to last night."


"I know that.  I'm not all competitive you know -- as long as I
know I'm on top!"  I looked at my watch.  Almost time for
biology.  "You go first, my little flower.  Have a chat with
Mark.  This might be fun.  Or, I might decide I do want you all
for myself.  But it will be a perfect opportunity to demonstrate
the superiority of the feminine anatomy."


"I can't wait to see."  We hugged and I floated out of the car,
all the way back to school.


21 (Mark)


I couldn't wait to try out my new body on the girls at school. 
Of course, they were a little bit jaded with bodies changing all
the time, but I still couldn't believe the whistles I got in the
hall, even from a few seniors.  My first real target was Carla. 
She looked at me and seemed a bit impressed, so I suggested that
maybe we should have lunch together.  She smiled, looking down at
the two bazookas poised on her chest.


"You want another taste, Mark, now that you've grown up a
little?"


I nodded, my mouth dripping already.  Her hand shot out, pushing
me against the wall with unbelievable force.  I tried to push
back, but I was completely pinned.


"You're still just a little boy to me, Mark.  And I'm the one who
tells the little boys when it's time to play."  She lifted me up
with one hand so that my head almost touched the low ceiling, her
biceps bulging obscenely. "And don't flaunt your little muscles
around me.  I don't have to go far to see better, Mark.  Know
what I mean?"  I agreed.  "Good."  She put me down and smoothed
her top.  "Don't think you can play the field, Mark.  If I want
you, I want you all to myself.  And only when I want you,
understand?  You won't be the only one.  And stay away from that
nerdy Howie.  He's such a zero.  I'll have to teach you how to
dress.  You're not a football player.  You won't do without a
little style.  I'll have my shopper give you a list."


Claire was right.  Carla was a real creep.  "Um Carla, I don't
know if I'm going to be able to meet your standards."


She glared at me.  I couldn't help but watch her breasts rise and
fall as she breathed.  This was torture.  "I'm not surprised.  Be
that way, then.  This was your big chance, Mark, and you blew
it."


She walked away, and it was all I could do to stop myself from
falling on my knees and worshiping her ass.  But I didn't.


The bell rang and I headed to biology class.  Claire was already
there and smiled at me, again.  What did she want?  She didn't
say anything, but turned around in class a few times to look at
me.  She was cute.  I still liked the way her breasts augmented
her huge chest, and the way the curves of her biceps leapt out in
front of her when she sat with her elbows on the desk, thinking. 
I glanced over at Wendy, who was staring at me.  What was going
on?  I missed most of class wondering, and then watched Claire
get up and walk out slowly, like she was waiting for me to catch
up with her.  Wendy went the other way.  


"So, what's up, Claire?"


"Mark."  She looked up at me.  "Mark," she said again, softly.


"What do you want, Claire?"


"I want you Mark.  We belong together. I know that."  She was
talking so softly I could barely hear her, but her words shot
right through to my heart.


"So, uh, things with Wendy didn't measure up?"


"Yeah, um, kind of.  Women are different, you know Mark.  There
are some things only a man can do."


"Yeah."


"Wendy knows that too.  She'd like to get to know you better. 
I'd like that too.  I mean, as long as it was ok with you, and
if, you know, we still were together, I mean, at the same time." 
I couldn't believe it.   Both of them?  "I'm not a lesbian, Mark. 
But Wendy is very special.  You'd like her if you got to know her
better, and she really does want you.  I told her all about you. 
We talked about you, about how you feel inside me, and what a
good kisser you are.  I got her very hot."


I couldn't believe we were talking about sex in the middle of the
school hall.  I felt my dick pounding against my pants, as I
listened to Claire's soft voice, looked into her pleading eyes,
and thought about sex with two girls at once.  It sure was worth
a try.


The bell rang for Math.  I hadn't even been to my locker.  "Yagh! 
I can't miss Spanish.  Test today!  Will you meet me for lunch,
Mark?  Please!"


"Okay."  So much for seeing Howie.   Boy, would he be pissed.


22  


Well, Claire gave me the chapters she wrote: I numbered them 14,
16 and 18 and fit them in chronologically.  I was hoping she'd
have written something about sex with Wendy.  I was curious, but
she said she didn't have time to write it down, and that with the
three of us together now, we'd moved far beyond that.  Well, from
my perspective that's certainly true.   I mean, it's incredible. 
Four breasts to suck, there's always somebody's mouth on my dick,
they get each other so hot that they're always ready, and they
keep themselves going while I rest in between.  I could never
have believed it.  The only problem is they get very mushy about
each other, but to tell the truth, it takes some of the pressure
off me.  I love Claire.  I certainly like Wendy, now, and it's
nice not to have to explain all my feelings in depth to Claire
all the time.   They go into that shit with each other.  I can
leave them together and not really worry about it.  Well, a
little, but the advantages definitely outweigh the disadvantages.


I breezed through the rest of the school year and half the summer
before I started worrying again about the satellite launch.  We
got into a few arguments, the three of us, every once in a while
about whether we should try to find Dr. Moore and stop her, and
then Claire suggested I should just talk to her about it.  It's
not like we could do anything. Dr. Moore had gone off the map as
far as I knew.  Wendy seemed to get angry just on the mention of
her name.  In any case, she didn't respond to my e-mails, and
NASA refused to discuss my warning that Betsey's experiment was a
trojan horse.  All I got were a couple of letters from a public
relations officer, and then a visit from the FBI to make sure I
didn't plan to blow up the shuttle.  So much for that idea.


Howie didn't do much to help.  He said he was too busy designing
his Belana Torres Web page, and I had a feeling that once he had
regained the upper hand with Marcia he lost interest in the
project.  Or maybe he was a little bit scared of losing all of
his strength again.  He wouldn't tell me.


So the fateful day came.  I kept hoping the Discovery would blow
up, and when it didn't I watched the NASA home page for some sign
that Dr. Moore's instrument didn't deploy correctly.  No such
luck.  I read about the experiments she's conducted, and the
finding that neutrinos were most plentiful in an area of the
Universe near Arcturus.  November came and went and now it was
December.  And nothing happened.  I breathed easier.  The jerk
from the FBI came around to interview me again to see if I had
any more wacky conspiracy ideas.  I smiled and told him no, I was
strictly a one idea guy, and he left me alone after that.  


Wendy, Claire and I were all together, at Wendy's house as usual,
on New Year's Eve.  It was still early -- just before seven
o'clock.  Wendy had dribbled a trail of caviar along Claire's
body, from her chin all the way down to her toes, and I was
slowly working my way down while Wendy worked her way up Claire's
legs.  It was the kind of game we'd often play, and it was always
exciting to meet in the middle and see which way the fun would
veer off.  There were so many possible combinations.  Lately,
they'd been getting into strength games, with the two of them arm
wrestling each of while I helped Claire by fellating Wendy to
orgasm, which always distracted her.  Sometimes I would just
watch their huge biceps balloon with the pressure of the battle. 
Wendy was bigger and stronger, but Claire had a competitive edge
about her that enabled her to win a third of the time.  I took
each of them on once, but that was it.  There's not much you can
do against someone twice as strong as you are.  No technique, no
amount of will and desire can overcome that much sheer power.  


I'd still see Claire's biceps rise like they were inflating with
air, and think, they can't be real, but no, they were rock hard. 
I'd seen her lift the front end of a Cadillac.  I could lie down
on her, putting my hands on her biceps and supporting my weight
on them, and she could flex them and push me four inches into the
air.  And I wasn't light.  Since Wendy and Dr. Moore had each
separately given me my strength back, I weighed almost 230
pounds.  Wendy weighed about 300, and Claire about 240, but each
of them were so packed with muscle, they make me feel like a
dwarf.


Anyway, the caviar.  I had worked my way across her right breast
and was just moving through the valley between the ridges of
muscle on her abdomen.  Wendy had laced extra lines of caviar in
between the slabs of "sixpack" muscle, and I was licking those up
when I felt a wave of nausea run through me.  It was a horrible
feeling -- the worst nausea I'd ever felt in my life -- and I was
frightened suddenly that the caviar was bad and I was going to
spend the rest of the evening throwing up in Wendy's nice marble
bathroom while the two of them had wild sex, out of sight, but
well within earshot.  The anger and jealousy were just rising,
when the nausea vanished, just as suddenly as it had appeared. 
But just as I was starting to enjoy the relief, I felt like my
body was being twisted again, and in a matter of seconds two-
thirds of the muscle in my body disappeared.  I looked at my arms
and tried to flex them.  It was pathetic -- they were the arms of
a teenage girl, smooth, soft, and barely a rise of muscle, no
matter how hard I pressed.  I couldn't believe it!  That damn Dr.
Moore had done it after all.  She'd just waited to keep us off
balance.


I looked over at Claire and Wendy.  Claire looked shocked and
concerned.  "Are you all right, Mark?  I can't believe she
actually did it.  Oh, let me hold you, my poor little baby."  She
pulled me into her arms, and I now felt completely dwarfed by
her.  She now must have weighed nearly twice as much as I did.  I
hung on to her and squeezed her as hard as I could, but her body,
which had always felt hard to me, now felt completely
impregnable.  Was it just that I'd gotten so much weaker, or had
she gotten even harder and stronger?


Meanwhile, Wendy was smiling, laughing even.  "She did it!  She
did it after all!!  Hooray Betsey!  Oh this is so fucking
GREAT!!!  Just think of all the glorious female muscle out there. 
Think of how we'll lord it over you wimpy, string-armed men! Oh,
I'll be in perpetual heat, just thinking about those massive
balls of power on every woman's arm, all over the world!  OH
GLORY!!!!"  She pumped her biceps together and then separately. 
I almost could hear drumbeats as they pounded up and down.


"Wendy!  How could you!  Poor Mark.  Look what's happened to
him."


"Oh Claire, stop being such a girly-girl.  Think of what this
means."


From the safety of Claire's arms I felt safe challenging Wendy. 
"I don't know Wendy.  You don't look any bigger to me.  You look
exactly the same."


A shadow passed Wendy's face.  "Maybe because Claire and I
already were bigger it passed us by."


"I know what we can do.  Let's turn on the Orange Bowl."


"Well, Mark, normally I'd say no.  No way, in fact, but it would
be great to see those former hulks walking in the shadow of a
crowd of amazonic cheerleaders. Sure!"


We flipped on the television and sure enough there was massive
confusion on the field.  The football players swimming in their
uniforms.  The announcers were scrambling, looking for
interviews, but unable to find anyone who could parley their
inanities into an explanation. On camera they were nothing but
skin and bones, and in fact, from the way the camera was shaking,
guessed that the cameraman no longer had enough strength to do
his job.  Finally, one of them thought to cue up the network, and
Katie Couric appeared -- looking exactly like I had seen her this
morning!


"Terry!  Terry Bradshaw!  Are you there?"


"Yes, Katie, yes.  Do you have some news for us, some kind of
explanation?"


"No Terry.  We in New York are as confused as you.  From what we
can piece together, at exactly seven o'clock p.m., eastern
standard time, some unknown force literally ripped a good part of
the muscle out of every man around us, and we are getting similar
reports from all around the country.  We all saw what happened
down in Florida, and I can tell you that absolute pandemonium has
broken out on the streets of New York City, five hours ahead of
time.  We have Frank Fields, our science correspondent on the
line with us.  Frank?  Frank.  What have you learned?"


"Well, very little Katie.  This bizarre event has caught all of
America completely unprepared, on a night when virtually no one
is where we'd want to reach them for a statement.  From my own
personal observation, being with my family tonight, I can confirm
that all of the males of the family have lost most of their
visible muscle.  I can say that even this telephone receiver
feels heavy to me.  The females seem wholly unaffected, but they
are now clearly the stronger sex.  With the workouts you do,
Katie, that would probably make you one of the strongest people
in the world."


Katie blushed and put her hands over her biceps, which were, in
any case, covered by her jacket.  "Oh no, Frank!  It's just to
stay in shape!  After the baby."


"Well, it's more than I have now.  Anyway, that's all for now,
Katie!  We'll continue working through the night on this, and
we'll have more for you tomorrow on Today!"


"Thanks Frank."  Katie looked around, listening to a message
coming through her earpiece.  


"Look!"  I said.  "None of the women are affected.  She didn't --
"


"Excuse me folks.  This strange story has just gotten stranger. 
Our correspondent from Rio de Janeiro, who is covering New Year's
celebrations there, has just advised me that the phenomenon has
taken a very different turn there.  We have Rodulfo Cretengo --
did I pronounce your name correctly Mr. Cretengo?"


"It's close enough Katie.  Yes, I was explaining that in Rio, not
only have the men suddenly become very weak, but the women here
have grown immensely muscular, I would say on the order of three
or four times the size that men formerly were.  We have some film
of -- yes, you can see in the fading light of the Rio summer, the
beach, where hundreds of women, yes those are women, have burst
their bikini tops and are roaming the beach, flexing their
muscles in wonder.  The men here are like sticks now.  The women
lift them like they weigh nothing.  And I must admit Katie, I am
fearful suddenly of my own safety."


"Thank you Rodulfo. Well, all I can suggest is stay in the
lighted areas, and try to walk with a buddy. We are now getting
similar reports from Asia, in Tokyo and Beijing, Sydney, Kuala
Lampur, from Mexico City, Montreal, yes, we can confirm that
apparently everywhere that we have made contact with
correspondents outside the United States, not only have men lost
muscle, but women have gained many times over what the men have
lost.  Makes me wish I had taken that Carribean vacation! 
Nothing yet from Europe, where they are all celebrating the New
Year just now."


"Frank.  Can we get Frank back?  Frank, what do you think of this
new development, the difference between the United States and the
rest of the world, and the fact that Europe, and now Africa we
understand being unaffected.  Frank?"


"Well, Katie, I'm following this as closely as I can.  It appears
now from a report I'm watching on CNN that the phenomenon started
in Asia.  It was first reported approximately an hour ago in
Singapore, and seems to be spreading eastward, which would imply
that it is only a matter of time before Europe is affected as
well."


"Any speculation, Frank, about the source of this?"


"Well Katie, it would have to be a very wild guess, but back from
my days at the Houston Space Center, I recall that a satellite in
low orbit would speed around the earth in just this amount of
time, so --


"Could this be a weapon, then?  And who would launch such a
weapon?"


"I will leave that one to our political correspondents Katie."


"And why would the effect on females have bypassed the United
States?"


"Those are good questions Katie, but I don't have any answers."


"Well, thanks Frank."


"We have word now that the Orange Bowl has been suspended.  Both
coaches have agreed it would be dangerous for the boys to resume
play at this time.  Officials are trying to evacuate the stadium,
but obviously they will have a difficult job.  It looks like
tomorrow will be a difficult New Year's Day for men."


Just then, a phone rang.  Wendy eyes widened.  "That's my special
line for Betsey!" She muted the sound and ran over to pick it up. 
"You did it!!  You did it!! You -- WHAT??!!  WHY??!!  HOW COULD
YOU??  No . . .  that's -- I know that but -- but I'm just one
person.  There's 130 million -- you HATE America?  But we'll be -
- hello?  Betsey!  Hello?"


She turned to us.  "What is it?  What's happened?" Claire asked.


"The bitch! The TOTAL FUCKING bitch!!"


"She's taking revenge on all of the United States for my betraying
her.  The satellite will transform all women, all of the world,
except for here.  And all of the strength that should have gone
to us, will instead go to women in Western Europe where she is
now:  the UK, France, Switzerland.  They'll be like Superwomen. 
They'll be thirty times as strong as the average man used to be,
what with 70 million women absorbing the strength of their own
men, plus the 130 million in the United States, plus the amplifying
effect she's developed and they'll grow too.  And we, we'll be
the land of the WEAK!  We'll be defenseless."


"Can't we do anything?"


Wendy shook her head.  "I wouldn't know where to start.  If I
know Betsey, she's already made contact with the EU satellite
establishment.  She probably has contacts there and is
controlling the device from some secure place."


"I can call that guy at NASA.  He'll believe me now.  Maybe they
can do something!"


"Be my guest, Mark.  The phone's yours.  But I'm telling you. 
Betsey wouldn't have done this if she didn't have every base
covered.  She's probably already neutralized NASA's control of
the equipment."


"Look guys!"  Claire had changed the channel.  It was a special
New Year's tennis extravaganza, with Martina Hingis playing Anna
Kournikova in Basel.  We sat down to watch. It was probably only
minutes now before the satellite would be overhead there.


"She's such a babe!"  Wendy said.  "What a body!  Do you think
they'll keep the camera on her while she grows?"


"I doubt it, not if the camera is held by a man.  Based on my
reaction, he'll probably collapse."


"You guys are such wimps!" she sneered.


"Will you two cut it out!" Claire shouted.  "I want to watch!"


Sure enough, there was a great groaning from the crowd, and the
camera suddenly turned skyward.  There was a lot of shouting in
the booth, cursing in German and French, and then someone righted
the camera.  There was Martina, seven feet tall now, her top
stretched to the breaking point, the bottom barely low enough to
cover her breasts, the sleeves covering a tiny fraction of her
upper arms, which showed biceps the size of soccer balls.  She
held out her hands and flexed, like she did after she won the
semis at Wimbledon, but this time her arms exploded with muscle. 
Were they 40" around?  50?  I couldn't even begin to imagine. 
Her shirt ripped and she pursed her lips, in that cute way she
had, and seemed to giggle, then she took her metal racquet and
bent it like it was a piece of silly putty.  I think that shocked
even her, and she ran over to the side to get another one.  I'm
sure they would have penalized her or something, but the
officials stopped the game, fearful of the effect of an errant
serve flying into the stadium.


"Will you look at her!  I can't believe it!" Wendy exclaimed. 
"Just think, every woman in Europe will look like that, and at
least 10% of them are gay!!"


Claire looked at her strangely.  Just then the "Betsey phone"
rang again.  Wendy ran over to it.  "Yes?  I saw.  It's
incredible.  You're -- you're joking, right?  But how can you?" 
She was silent for over a minute, listening.  "You're a devil.  A
devil!  How will I ever -- my problem?"  She slammed down the
phone and stared blankly ahead.


"What is it?"  Claire asked.


"I - I -- you won't believe it.  I don't know if I believe it. 
She says that I ever make love with any woman who's been
enhanced, her satellite will suck the muscle right out of her and
give it to Mark here."


"Can she do that?"


"Do you want to try it and find out?"


I looked at Claire.  Was this for real?  "Don't do it, Claire. 
It's not worth it" I heard myself saying.


"We may as well, Claire.  It's only a matter of time before our
muscle just fades away and turns to fat.  She's cut the link
between our bodies and the guys in biology class.  They're all
linked to someone in Europe now.  Without that link, our hormones
won't maintain this level of muscle.  They'll just turn to mush."


"So let's do it then.  What's to stop us?"  Claire lay down next
to Wendy.  "Come on, once we do it, I'll be back to my normal
size, and we'll be free of it."


Wendy looked at me and suddenly changed her mind.  "No!  I don't
want you to go back to being a normal woman.  And I certainly
don't want HIM to get your muscle."


"WHAT?!  You're gonna be celibate the rest of your life to spite
me?"


"None of this would have happened if you hadn't said anything to
Betsey.  Everything would have been perfect!"


"This was your project.  Your money made this all possible. Don't
blame me!."  


"I CAN'T STAND ALL THIS BICKERING!!!" Claire screamed.


We looked at each other, and then back at the tennis show, which
was now scanning the crowd showing all of the newly powerful
women, holding their stick-like boyfriends like they were babies,
mounting then on their broad shoulders to carry them safely to
the exits to protect them from the surging crowd of superwomen.   


23


Of course, life as we knew it was over.  It wasn't long before a
stream of powerful women from Canada, Mexico and elsewhere
streamed into the country, taking over most physical labor from
the enfeebled American populace.  Then, the next wave:  Our
armies crumbled on the battlefield against the superior force of
female battalions from Baja California and Sonora, and Texas and
California, along with the whole Southwest as far north as
Wyoming and Oregon reverted to Mexican control.  Gangs of mafiosa
from Italy and Russia swarmed through American cities, impervious
to the efforts of our pathetic police forces.  American men
turned out to prefer the amazons from abroad, and fostered even
more immigration of powerful women from the Phillippines, China -
- anywhere that the fading American wealth still proved
attractive.  Baby girls born in the United States were immediately
branded by the satellite and would never be linked with a boy,
while those born abroad would gain the muscle, amplified may
times over, of her brothers or neighbors, with a little piece of
American muscle thrown in.  So then the emigration.  The women,
who wanted a future for their children, the men, following their
women, or chasing after an amazon.


Abroad, women quickly took control of the political machinery
everywhere, and launched a series of satellites and attack and
destroy weapons to ensure that Betsey's mechanism worked
perpetually.  


As for me, well, Wendy's celibacy lasted only so long, and I got
pretty strong, but little by little whatever muscle I would gain
would drain away, back into the powerful arms of some Frenchwoman
or some babe in the UK.  I stayed here, with Claire, although
once she got pregnant we moved to Canada, in case the child was a
girl.  America reverted back to being a wild, unpopulated place:
lawless, mostly male, sort of like the Old West.  A place to tour
perhaps, but not to live.  The land of the weak.


Epilogue (Mark Newman) 



Of course, from my vantage point in London, nothing could have
turned out better!  I hang out some days at lunch, watching the
hugely muscular women walking, sunning themselves, chatting up
the men.  The women here were tall to begin with, but now they're
seven to eight feet tall, 300 to 400 pounds of bulging hard
muscle.   When they walk up the stairs, the buildings shake. 
They motion to you and you come, climb into their arms and they
held you, let you play with their breasts, finger the bulging
hard lumps of muscle on their arms, which they casually bunch for
you, more muscle on one arm than in your whole body.  


I could eat them up. It's paradise.