Sharon
By marknew742@aol.com
An alien gives Sharon a special power. 

        Part One

Sharon Green had made a mess of her life.  Although she was a bright,
carefree girl in elementary school, she fell in with the wrong crowd in
junior high school and by age twelve she was drinking, smoking and taking
drugs.  Her grades plummeted and most of her friends dropped her.  Soon,
she was sleeping with older boys and at age fourteen became pregnant.

Her strict family was outraged by her behavior, and when they learned she
was pregnant, immediately shipped her off to a group home supervised by a
fundamentalist sect to teach and enforce moral behavior and make sure the
girls did not escape and get an abortion.  Sharon had never been so
unhappy.  Deprived of drugs and sex, condemned to carry a baby she did not
want, and forced to undergo hours of lectures, prayer and reciting her
sins, she was desperate to escape.

Three weeks after she arrived, she found her chance.  The night guard had
a secret fetish for pregnant girls and eagerly promised to let her escape
in exchange for sex.  Sharon was disgusted by this fat man, but she
endured his gropings and thrusting for awhile.  Once he came, she tried to
get up, but he slapped her down and snarled, "Suck me off, bitch.  And if
you don't finish me off in another twenty minutes, you ain't going
anywhere."  Sharon tried desperately to make him hard again, but the
guard's cock stayed flaccid.  He grinned at her.  "Looks like you'll have
to start all over again tomorrow, kid.  In fact, you're going to have to
do it every night this week, if you ever wanna get out."  Sharon burst out
crying, but the guard put his hand over her mouth.  "Shaddup.  You'll get
us both in trouble."  Sharon was suffocating, but she couldn't pull his
hand off her mouth.  Finally he pushed her down into a corner and left her
sobbing quietly.

The next night the guard brought a friend into the home.  "Hey, girl.  If
you do a good job tonight, Mel here'll give ya a job when ya get out." 
Mel leered at her and felt her breasts.

"Feels pretty juicy babe.  Don't worry.  If you can do the job on me,
you're home free."  With that, he unzipped his fly and pulled her head
down.  Sharon went to work on Mel and he quickly came.  He turned to the
guard.  "Yeah, she's as good as you said.  Here's your hundred bucks."  He
looked down at Sharon.  "Come on girl, you're with me from now on."  Mel
pulled Sharon with him.

"Hey, can't I even get my things?"

"Leave 'em girl.  I don't wanna take no chances."

"But -

Mel slapped her.  "Are you gonna do what I say, or should I leave you here
with Al?"  Sharon shook her head, crying.  "Ok, then.  Let's go."

Mel bundled her out of the home and took her to his apartment, then, in
the morning, to an abortion clinic.  "Now, you go in there.  Everything's
been taken care of.  I'll be back in a couple of hours to pick you up." 
Sharon was too scared to talk to the social worker or doctor, but signed
all the forms and got her abortion.  She thought about running away but
was too weak and exhausted and fell asleep in the recovery room.  Mel
awakened her and took her to a different place.

"You're gonna work for my boss now.  I know you know what to do.  Now, if
you're as good to the customers as you were to me and Al, you'll be ok. 
Just don't try anything funny or run away, cause I got friends
everywhere."  Just to prove it, he drove to a local police station where
he forced Sharon to service the officers.  Sharon could see that she would
never get any help from the law.

For the next ten years, Sharon lived in hell.  Mel's boss kept his girls
well-supplied with heroin to keep them dependent and speed to keep them
thin and appealing.  Sharon's addictions grew worse and worse.  Her health
deteriorated too.  Her teeth rotted, her muscles became flabby and she
started to gain weight.  She was shuffled to ever cheaper and dirtier
houses.  When even the lowliest customers began to shun her, she was
thrown out on the street without a penny.  

Unable to buy the drugs to satisfy her cravings, Sharon decided to kill
herself.  She walked out of town blindly until, exhausted, she threw
herself in front of a speeding car. The driver swerved and hit Sharon with
only a glancing blow.  Sharon didn't know it, but her luck had finally
turned.

The driver stopped the car and quickly stepped out to investigate.  "What
have we here?," she asked.  Sharon only moaned in response.  "You need
help, my dear.  My kind of help."  The driver lifted Sharon into the back
seat, secured her with the seat belts, and sped away, far out of town.

The next few days Sharon lived in a dream state.  She drifted in and out
of sleep, but was bathed, fed, clothed.  She slept in luxurious sheets,
heard soft voices and music, but never saw who cared for her. Her whole
body ached from the absence of her drugs, but every four hours, an elixir
appeared by her bed that relieved most of the pain.  The only new trouble
was that her hands were bandaged and she had to do her eating through a
straw.  But she had never tasted such food.

Finally, after a week, she awoke to find the bandages removed from her
hands.   They felt oddly heavy and sore.  Soon a dark shape dressed in
black appeared in the room and sat on a chair in front of Sharon's bed.

"I have done all I can for you.  You'll have to go in a short while."

Sharon burst into tears.  "No!  Don't send me back out there.  I'll just
kill myself.  I'll never get the stuff I need."  She started to shiver.

"You will have to do something about your dependency on those substances. 
But do not worry.  I can see you needed help, and I have given you all you
need to survive in this world."

Sharon looked at her blankly.  "Survive?  Look at me?  I'm twenty-five
years old, and I look fifty.  I'm fat, I've had V.D. most of the last ten
years.  I have no education, no jobs except being a hooker.  And if I
don't get my diet pills, my crack, my heroin, I'll go crazy again.  I just
wanna die."

"You poor girl.  All that you say is true.  But you have the power to
change it.  Look closely at your hands Sharon.  You will see a green tint
on your palms and finger tips.  I have implanted in you some devices we
have developed.  They will seem magical to you, but for us, they are
merely communication disks.  When you touch someone who has what you want,
well, you will have to practice, but these disks will enable you to get
what you want."

"I don't understand."

"I am afraid I cannot explain any more to you, my dear.  It wouldn't mean
anything to you anyway.  Now, put on these clothes.  I will drive you back
to the city.  You have a lot to learn."

Sharon obediently put on the form fitting dress she was given.  She looked
down with disgust at her sagging breasts and bulging stomach, her reddened
and pockmarked skin.  Her leg muscles ached when she stood and her back
hurt when she sat.  Clumps of mousy brown hair stuck to the brush when she
straightened her hair.  She looked down at her hands and wondered.

The woman said nothing to Sharon as they drove back to the city and left
her off just outside of town.  Sharon looked around her and realized she
had no money - nothing besides the dress on her back.  She was hungry,
aching and the symptoms of her withdrawal were fast returning.  So she
walked to the part of town she knew best.

She stood on a street with several other women, trying to lure the
truckers and construction workers as they slowly drove by.  In the late
afternoon sun, she had no chance compared with the younger women on the
street, but as dark approached, the crowd thinned and soon she had her
john.

She looked him over as she climbed into the cab of his truck.  He was a
big man, over six three and two hundred twenty pounds, she guessed, and
groaned to herself thinking about that weight on her fragile frame.  They
drove a short way out of town until he stopped the truck at a cheap motel.
 Sharon started to get out of the truck, when the trucker grabbed her hand
and pulled her back in.  Her turned on the cab light and looked her over.

"Man.  You are an ugly chick, aren't you?"  Sharon looked at him blankly. 
"Answer me when I talk to you!"  He slapped her.  Sharon's eyes watered.

"I .. I'm really not so bad.  I know ..."

"Damn.  There's only one thing I want from you.  I'll give you twenty
dollars for a blow job.  But it better be good."

Sharon's heart sank.  Twenty dollars wouldn't get her anything but a meal.
 No place to sleep.  No clothes.  Nothing to satisfy her cravings.  As she
bent down in the trucker's lap she laid her hands on his legs and thought
how easily he ordered her around.  She'd never been able to ask for
anything.  She always did what she was told.  And now look where she was. 
In the parking lot of a motel.  She wished she could just tell the trucker
off.

Suddenly, Sharon felt angry.  She looked up at the trucker.  "Twenty
dollars isn't enough.  You took me way the hell out of town.  How am I
supposed to live on that for a whole night?"

He seemed abashed.  "Well, gee, I didn't think of that.  Do ... uh ... do
you need more?  How about fifty?"

"One hundred will be fine.  But first, you go inside and wash yourself. 
And order us some dinner too."

"Yes.  OK.  I'm really sorry."  He zipped up his pants and stepped outside
to check in.

Sharon was dumbfounded.  She had never done anything like that before. 
And her john did just what she said!  Quickly, he came back to the room,
holding greasy paper bags.

"I hope you like cheeseburgers and fries.  That was all they had."

Sharon nodded and the two of them ate their dinner hungrily.  Then the
trucker went to the bathroom and came out.  "I got it nice and clean for
you.  Are you ready now?"

Sharon sighed.  "Alright.  Let's get it over with."  She knelt down, put
her hands around the trucker's legs and started to work when she felt a
tapping on her shoulder.

"Excuse me, but I would really like it if you got undressed.  Isn't that,
I mean, I am paying you a hundred dollars."

"Hey buddy, it's cold in here.  I'll do it, but it'll cost you another
hundred."

"A hundred?  Well, ok."

Sharon got undressed, smiled to herself and thought, 'Hey, this must be my
lucky night.  He started out a real bear, but he turned out to be even
more weak-willed than I am.  I wonder what else I get out of him.  I'd
love to have all the cash he's got.'

The trucker came quickly and went to his wallet.  "You were really good. 
I know we said two hundred dollars, but I have fifteen hundred.  You're
really worth it."  

Sharon looked at him in amazement, for a second, then got dressed, stuffed
the money into her bra and quickly left the room before he changed his
mind.  'Fifteen hundred.  And all mine.  That's more than I've ever seen. 
And he just gave it to me!  What a night.'

The joy of the moment quickly passed when she saw where she was.  Two
miles out of town on a highway and no place to stay.  She wanted to get
away from the trucker as quickly as possible, before he changed his mind
and took the extra money back, so she started walking along the road
toward town, hoping to hitch a ride.

Very quickly, a car stopped.  It was a old car, driven by a teenage girl. 
Sharon quickly got in.  "My mom said I shouldn't pick up men, but she
didn't say anything about women."

"It's very nice of you.  I .. uh .. had to leave this motel and I have no
car."

"Where are you going?"

Sharon tried to think quickly.  "I don't know.  Any hotel downtown will
do."

"I know one.  I'll take you to the Red Roof.  You're not from around here,
are you?"

"Actually, I am."

"Then why are you staying in a hotel?"

"You ask a lot of questions, don't you?"  The girl shrugged.

"Where'd you get that dress?  I've never seen one like it."

"A friend gave it to me."

They rode in silence for a few minutes.  "You're not much of a talker, are
you?"  Sharon shook her head.  Suddenly, the girl turned into a restaurant
parking lot.  "I'm hungry.  Do you want to come in, or wait here?"

"Hey, I really wanted to get back to town."

"It's my car.  Get another ride if you're in a hurry." She jumped out and
walked quickly toward the restaurant.  Sharon admired the girl's athletic
gait and envied her as she did three cartwheels across the grassy path to
the door.  Her head ached and she shivered.  She thought about getting
some coffee, so she slowly made her way into the restaurant and found the
girl at a booth and slid in across from her.

"You don't look so good, you know.  How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-five."

"You're kidding!  Only eight years older than me?  Excuse me for saying
so, but you better take care of yourself.  Hey, I've been learning some
stuff about Chinese medicine.  Let me take your pulse."  The girl moved
around to Sharon's side of the table and put her hand on Sharon's wrist. 
Sharon grabbed her hand to stop her, thinking that this girl wouldn't look
so hot if she had my drug habit.  The girl's hand went limp.

"Jesus!  I just got the world's worst headache!  Do you have any aspirin?"
 Sharon shook her head, and the girl got up to check with the cashier.

Sharon realized her headache was gone.  In fact, she suddenly felt better
then she could remember.  She felt clean.  She looked up.  The girl was
stumbling back to the table.  "Man!  I can hardly see straight.  Can you
help me with this bottle?"  Sharon opened it for her and the girl quickly
swallowed five extra-strength Tylenols.  

Sharon cracked, "You know, taking that many isn't good for you."

"Leave me alone.  What do you know about headaches?!  I gotta get rid of
it.  Did it get cold in here?  I'm going to complain."  

The girl got up and started walking back to the when she fainted.  Sharon
got up, put her arms behind and tried to help her up, but couldn't.  One
of the customers got up to help and together, they carried the girl out to
the car.  Sharon laid her across the back seat, moaning, and got into the
front seat.

She thought, 'I'm feeling better.  She's feeling worse.  Before, I
suddenly got nervier, and that trucker started doing whatever I said.' 
She looked down at her hands in the light of the car.  'Is this what that
lady was talking about?  Each time something happened to me, I was
touching someone else.'  She looked down at her bulging stomach and
impulsively reached back, touched the prone girl and thought about the
girl's slender frame.  Before her eyes, the girl's stomach swelled up, her
face, legs and arms became flabby, and Sharon had a figure again.  Sharon
quickly thought about the fresh, unspoiled organs inside the girl's
healthy body.  Instantly, Sharon felt alive and alert.  She looked down at
her dress.  Her breasts were smaller, and firm.  She breathed deeply and
could smell the woods.  She suddenly noticed the sound of the passing
traffic.  She looked at her arms, scarred by years of drug injections and
touched the girl once again, then looked down to see her own skin as fresh
and dewy as a child's.

The girl opened her eyes suddenly.  Wide-eyed with fear, she looked up at
Sharon.  "What is happening to me?  I feel like I'm going to die.  Was it
food poisoning?  I don't even remember eating."

"The milk was bad, sweetie.  Just rest."  Feeling a little guilty, she
took five hundred dollars out of her dress and laid it on the front seat,
got out of the car and started walking briskly the rest of the way into
town.



Part Two

Sharon started to work up a healthy glow as she walked along the road,
mentally cataloguing other parts of her she wanted to improve.  'My hair. 
I've always wanted to be blond, with blue eyes too.  I could have a
smaller nose.  And maybe I could be an couple of inches taller.  And I can
make this money last for a little while, while I figure out what I want to
do.  I feel like I have a life again.'

Sharon didn't pay too much attention to where she was going and was
startled to see her way suddenly blocked by two large men.

"Hey, sister.  What's a foxy chick like you doing out here this time of
night?  You're not looking to make a little money, are you?"  Sharon shook
her head.  "Well good, cause we're not planning to give ya any."  The two
started laughing and rushed to grab Sharon.  She struggled weakly, but
they easily overpowered her and pushed her into a nearby building.

"Come on, let's see what you got under that dress."

Sharon tried to be brave.  "I'm not doing it.  Leave me alone."  

One of the men held her arm tightly and pulled her down.  "We're not
asking you.  We're telling you.  Now take your clothes off or we'll rip
'em off."

Tears in her eyes, Sharon started to comply, then got an idea.

She looked up shyly.  "You're both pretty good looking.  I know what you
want.  Maybe if you ask me nicely, I could give you a real treat."

The bigger one smiled.  "Now that's more like it."  He walked over, took
Sharon's hand and lifted her to a standing position, put his hand out and
pulled her up.  Sharon massaged his arm and his back.

"You're pretty strong, aren't you."

"You can tell, can't you.  Ya don't lift boxes ten hours a day without
getting big muscles.  You like real men, huh?"

"I really do.  But only if you don't play rough, you know.  I'm just a
girl you know, really delicate."

"You don't look so fragile to me, but hey, I know how to treat a girl, as
long as she does what she's told."

Sharon looked scared.  "Don't rush me, please.  I just have to, you know,
get myself into it.  I promise I'll make it special."

"Well ok then, get to it.  We don't have all night."

Sharon wrapped her arms around the bigger man.  "Wow, you're so big I can
hardly hold you.  I bet you could pick me up like I was a feather."

"Sure I could.  Wanna see?"  Sharon nodded.

"Hey come on Larry. This is taking too long.  Just fuck the girl and let's
get out of here."

"Just take it easy Arnie.  She said she'd make it worth our while.  Wait
your turn."

With Sharon's arms around his neck, Larry lifted her easily.  She raised
her head to kiss him, thinking, 'I don't want your big, ugly muscles, but
I want your strength.  I want to be as strong as you are, and you can be
as strong as I am.'

Suddenly, Larry dropped her and he staggered.  "What's happened to me, you
were gonna kiss me and now I feel weak.  I can hardly stand up."

"I told you I was a good kisser.  Maybe you just need a rest."  She walked
over to Arnie, who looked a little concerned about his friend.  "How about
you?  I guess your friend isn't ready."  

"What did you do to him?"

"Oh nothing, silly.  It's probably just something he ate.  What's the
matter?  You're not afraid of me, are you?"  She leaned forward and
puckered her lips.

"Don't be stupid, bitch.  I ain't afraid of no girl."  He pulled her
closer.  "But I'm not as patient as Larry."  He put his hand on Sharon's
ass and squeezed.  "You've got a nice ass.  How about it?  Are you gonna
put out for me?"

Sharon rubbed up against him and put her arm around him.  "Sure, I'm all
ready for you."

"Good, but none of that kissing stuff.  I don't trust you."

Sharon put one hand on top of Arnie's erect penis and started to press. 
"Is this better?  Or do you want me to stop"

Arnie sighed.  "It's good, but it's not enough."

Sharon was thinking, 'I'll take enough of your strength to make you as
strong as I used to be.'  She felt another surge of power.

Meanwhile, Arnie's body went limp.  "What happened to me?  My arms feel
like dead weights.  I can hardly stand up."  He sat down on the floor.

"Maybe you guys should be more careful about what you eat.  Let me help
you."  She bent down and put her hands on his waistband to help him up and
slowly lifted him so that his feet dangled two inches above the ground. 
Arnie looked down at her.

"How, how did you do that?"  He put his arms out against Sharon's breasts
and tried to push her away, but couldn't.

"Who gave you permission to touch me?"  She started shaking Arnie back and
forth.  "Well?"  Arnie was too confused to answer.  She flipped him into
the air and he fell hard on his back.  Sharon knelt down next to him.  "I
don't know if you're up for it tonight, bud.  I'll check out your friend."

Larry had stood up shakily and was walking toward Sharon.  "I don't you
what you and Arnie are doing, but I'm not finished with you."  He put his
hand on Sharon's shoulder and tried to pull her toward him, but she stood
her ground firmly.

"What was that?  Are you trying to get my attention or something?  I
hardly felt that."

"You're making a big mistake, taunting me.  I may be feeling a little
woozy, but when I'm through with you, you're gonna be a lot worse."  He
tried to grab Sharon's arm, but she slipped away.

"You're a little slow tonight.  I'll make it easier for you.  You hit me
as hard as you can, then I'll do the same.  If you knock me down, then
I'll let you do what you want with me.  Deal?"  Larry nodded.  "Go ahead
then."

Larry reared back and hit Sharon squarely in the stomach.  He grimaced. 
"What do got in there?  A steel plate?"

Sharon shook her head and slapped her belly.  "Just skin.  Now it's my
turn."  She checked her nails, then, pointing her fingers out, she pushed
against his chest, sending him reeling into a wall.  She followed and
jabbed her thumb into his stomach. He groaned and doubled over.

"You look tough, but you're pretty soft there.  How about this?"  She
punched him hard in the temple and watched him stumble into the corner.

She walked back to Arnie.  "So where did you guys eat dinner?  I better
warn them about the food."

"The Union Bar.  Down the street.  And can you send some of the guys for
us.  I don't think I can walk."

"Sure Arnie.  I'll try to remember.  Thanks for everything."

Sharon walked one block and stepped into a crowded pool hall, filled with
burly construction workers.  She smiled, thinking how she'd be a lot
stronger when she left.

She pretended to be a little drunk and pulled a roll of bills out of her
dress.  "I know you guys think you're strong and I'm just a woman.  But
I'll give $500 to the first man here who can beat me in arm wrestling. 
Any takers?"  Sharon rolled up her dress sleeve to make a muscle and
flexed her arm, which rose just a fraction of an inch.

The men at the nearest table burst out laughing.  One said, "I can think
of a lot of ways to make your money last longer lady.  But I'll take it if
you're giving it away."  He stood up and grabbed at the roll of money but
Sharon snatched it away.

"I didn't say I was giving it away.  You have to earn it."

The man towered more than a foot over Sharon, looked appreciatively at her
body, and smiled.  "Anything you say, but if that's your last dollar, I'm
not giving you carfare home unless you can earn some of it back.  And you
can guess what I have in mind.  Hey, no hard feelings.  I'm Joe.  What's
your name?"  His buddies laughed again and pulled up a chair for Sharon to
sit down.  

"Sharon.  Very glad to meet you."  They locked hands, and as they got
ready to start, Sharon thought 'I'll just take a third of your strength,
no muscle please.  A third of the strength of all these guys, now that'll
really be something.'

The man's brow furrowed.  One of his friends said, "Start!", and the man
started pushing.  At first, he pushed Sharon's arm halfway down, but then
she stopped him and slowly worked his hand back to a vertical position,
then continued smoothly over the top until she pressed his hand against
the table.

"Whew!," she said.  "That was hard.  You almost beat me!  Anyone else here
wanna try, or should I go to another table?"

The men all looked at Joe, who had covered his head with his hand.  "I
don't know what happened guys.  But I feel kind of sick.  I'm going to the
can."

Another big man, Ron, stood up.  "I don't know what tricks you have up
your sleeve, lady, but I'm glad Joe got sick, 'cause now I'm gonna take
your $500."

"You're on, Ron.  Have a seat."  He sat facing her.  This time Sharon felt
sure enough of her strength to wait.  They locked hands.  Ron got off to a
quick start, but Sharon quickly stopped his hand.  Ron's biceps bulged
with the strain, and his hand started to shake.

"Hey Ron, you're shakin' and sweatin' so much I feel like I'm gonna slip
out."  Sharon licked her lips and slammed Ron's hand against the table and
quickly took her "one-third" before letting go.

"Maybe you guys just had a hard day or something.  I'd better try another
group."

Ron was breathing hard.  "She ain't human.  Look at her.  Where does she
get that strength?"

Loud cries went up around the room, beckoning Sharon to the other tables. 
She held her hand up.  "I heard you all.  Everyone gets a chance, 'til
somebody beats me."  She walked to another table, and another, until she
had wrestled thirty men into submission, the last cringing with pain at
the strength of her grip.

She saw one man sitting alone in the back of the room, watching the show
with an amused expression.  He was tall and gangling, with a balding head,
and was writing rapidly in a notebook.  She walked back.  "What about you?
 Aren't you interested in winning $500?"

He looked up.  "You're quite a con artist aren't you?  There's something
going on here that I haven't figured out.  Maybe you can tell me.  You
offered them $500 if they won.  What do you get?"

Sharon looked nervous.  "Oh, I just like to play."

"May I respectfully say that's a lie, lady.  You're after something.  No
one who looks like you comes into a place like this who isn't after
something."

"Well, what about you?  You don't look like you're here for the company?"

"I'm not.  I'm here for business.  I go by the name of Burton Koslowski,
and this is my business, and I've bought a hundred other places around
here.  Bars, strip joints, whorehouses.  You name it.  I own it."

"The place at 460 East Main too?"  Sharon asked shakily.

"Yes, I - wait a minute.  I thought you looked familiar.  You're one of
the girls who used to work there.  Sharon.  Sharon Green.  Yeah, I gave
the order to ditch you a week ago.  Your numbers were getting worse and
worse.  It was hardly paying for the food, much less the drugs."  He
looked her over.  "But I really don't get it.  You should have been doing
a very high return business for us."

"My numbers?  What do you mean?"  She sat down.

"Yeah, the return on my investment.  Looking at you, it's obvious that
numbers don't tell all, but it's all very scientific and it works.  I keep
tabs on everything.  You couldn't possibly understand, but this is a very
sophisticated business.  Costs, inventory, supplies, currency shifts.  I'm
always figuring.  Some guys get hundreds of people to do this for me.  Me,
I do it all in my head."  He showed her a piece of paper with endless
columns of numbers.  "See, no names, nothing to trace.  I do half in my
head, half like this."

"You don't talk like your so smart."

"Well, Miss Green.  I do sincerely apologize if you believe that my syntax
and diction do not properly indicate the full extent of my intelligence. 
If you're more impressed by words with many syllables, let me assure you
that my IQ of 175 provides me with the ability not only to perform complex
mathematical calculations without the aid of computers but also enables me
to learn tens of languages, including the simple street language that you
can understand.  You do agree that it would be as sensible for me to speak
to you in German as it would to speak with you using the specialized
language of art history or behavioral psychology."

"Now, why don't you tell me just how you went from being the pathetic,
overweight drug addict I threw on the street to the sleek bombshell you
are tonight.  And just how did you beat all those hulks in arm wrestling? 
I'm a firm believer in brain over brawn, but forgive me for saying you
don't have much of either."

Sharon's face colored.  "You're not very nice, you know, Mr. Koslowski." 
She thought some more.  "I still don't understand.  Say you are really
smart.  How could you do what you do?"

"Do what?  Run sleazy businesses, instead of lecturing at Harvard?  Or
feed you drugs and throw you on the street?  It doesn't matter. It's the
same answer.  Money!  I make more doing what I do than the president of
General Motors.  You have heard of GM, right?"

"I've heard of the president."

"That'll do fine, dear.  I'm worth tens of millions.  It's great fun. 
Between these little establishments, the webs of connections into
government, the payoffs, the blackmailing, and then the fun of investing. 
Derivatives, currency plays.  It's much more exciting than any academic
pursuit.  Anyway, I can buy all the scholars I want."

"I think you're an evil man."

"Well, I suppose I am.  Now, speaking of evil, I just happen to have some
of the finest heroin here with me.  I bet you're just dying to have some,
aren't you?  And no one can give you what I can."

Sharon shrank from him.  "After what I've been through!?  You want me to
get hooked again?"

"I was only asking."

He shrugged and went back to his notebook.  Sharon looked at him with pure
hatred, then put her hand on his back.

Mr. Koslowski didn't even look up.  "I assure you dear, other than our
business relationship, I have no interest in you whatsoever.  I suggest
that if you're not going to satisfy my curiosity, you may as well return
to your parlor tricks for these sailors."

Sharon thought about revenge, then suddenly smiled.  She'd take his smarts
away.  That would teach him.  She thought 'I want to be as smart as you
are, and you can be as smart as I am.'  Sharon didn't feel any change, but
she looked down and saw the man looking quizzically at his paper.

"I .. I don't know how to do this.  What is this?"

Sharon pushed the table aside and picked up his chair with her right hand,
holding the seat straight out at waist level so that he had to look her in
the eye.  "It's something very important, but I bet you'll need some help
with it from here on in."  She put her other hand on his knee and quickly
crushed it.  He howled in pain.  She turned the chair upside down and
dumped him on his head and walked out of the bar.

She stood outside, wondering why she didn't feel any smarter, why she
didn't know anything new.  Then she realized.  She hadn't taken any of his
knowledge, just his intelligence.  She would have to learn things all by
herself.  But that would take years!  She hadn't been to school since she
was fourteen.  How could she speed it up?  Sharon smiled.  She knew
exactly the place.


Part Three


It had been a long time since Sharon had worked out of the higher class
clubs, but she remembered the routine, and the code hadn't changed.  The
door opened and a well-dressed woman asked Sharon what she had come for.

"Mr. Koslowski - at the Union Bar - said I should see the madam.  I need
to pick up some cash, quickly."

"He sent you here?  Have you worked for him?"

"In another place.  He said I should, uh, bring in good numbers."

"That sure sounds like him.  Come in and get dressed.  I've got plenty of
customers tonight."

Sharon had forgotten how richly this house was furnished and she marveled
at the new velvet wallpaper and plush carpet.  The madam ushered her into
a reception room.

"You're pretty lucky.  This guy's a regular.  Real rich.  He wants someone
new all the time.  What's your name?

"Sharon."

"Ugh!  That will never do here."

They entered the room.  "Sir, this is Beverly.  Would you like her to show
you to a room tonight?"

"Yes.  Yes.  She'll do fine."

"Beverly's joined us just tonight, so I'll show you the way."

They entered a large room with a four poster bed.  Sharon walked over and
took the man's jacket.  "Would you like me to wash you sir?"

"Yes, please do it quickly.  I still have some business to attend to
tonight."

Sharon undressed and then helped him undress.  He squeezed her breasts and
ass as she bent down to untie his shoes.

"You are pleasantly round and firm, young lady."

"Thank you sir.  You're very handsome, and distinguished too."

"Of course I am."

"Do you live here, sir?"

"Good lord, no!  I live in London.  I travel here several times a year to
look after my investments."

Sharon gently soaped and massaged him.  "You must be very important."

"Oh yes, very.  You do talk a lot, but you are well-spoken for a whore."

Sharon flushed with anger.  'He thinks he is so superior,' she said to
herself.  'Well, he has a surprise coming.'  They walked into the room and
he motioned her to lay on the bed.  He lay beside her.

"I want you first to use your mouth and tongue on my member.  At my age,
this is necessary."

Sharon moved down on the bed and lay her hand across the man's thigh. 
'Now's the time,' she thought.  'I want to know everything you know and
all your intelligence.  All of it.'  The man suddenly became rigid.  His
eyes stared blankly ahead, then he collapsed on the bed.

Sharon bit her lip, thoughtfully.  'You were a real man of the world
weren't you?  Finance, society, art, women, philosophy.  Now I have it
all, and I've killed you.  Well, if I knew before what I know now, that
wouldn't have happened.  I can see that some of what I took from your
brain was necessary to keep your body working.'  She got up.  'Oh well. 
He wasn't a very pleasant man.  I'll just tell the madam he had a stroke.'

Sharon pretended to scream in terror.  The madam quickly came in.

"Look at him!  Look at him!  He just stares like that."

"The poor man.  And he always pays in advance.  I hope he died happy. 
Well, let's call the coroner.  It's a pity we'll 
lose the use of the room for the night.  Now Beverly, I know this seems
cruel, but we have another customer for you.  Can you collect yourself?  I
shouldn't tell you this, but I must warn you, he's a little strange.  A
top scientist I hear, but very ugly."

"I'm fine ma'am.  I was just a little startled."

"Good girl.  Now don't let it upset you.  I always say, it's the best way
for them to go."

Sharon quickly dressed and brought the man into another room.  He was
shorter than Sharon, about five feet two inches, and grossly overweight. 
His face had a deep purple blotch and a large brown wart on his cheek. 
Sharon shuddered inside to think of the rest of his body, but smiled at
him and asked him to sit down.

"What would you like me to do, sir?"

"Are you British?  That's a very interesting accent you have, almost
royal."

"Oh no sir, but I have some friends -

"I suppose Prince Charles comes here.  It wouldn't surprise me.  Well,
don't delay.  Undress me.  Wash me.  Suck the living daylights out of me
and let me go."

Sharon quickly undressed him and led him to the bathroom.  She thought,
'His body is repulsive too.  I better not wait until we do it.  This is a
lot harder to do when I'm not high on drugs.'  She knelt down to soap him
up and put her hand behind him to steady him.  'Damn!  I don't know enough
about him to be selective.  Well, I want all your knowledge about science
and math, and all of your intelligence too, except what you need to be,
say, a clerk in a bookstore.'  

Sharon closed her eyes.  'Wow!  So you were a genius. Well, now I am. I've
really scored with you.'

The man looked dazed, and Sharon quickly and expertly masturbated him with
her hand.

"Hmm. I was going to say something, but it just went out of my head."

"Did you enjoy it sir?"

"Enjoy it?  But we only -"  He looked down at his flaccid penis.  "I think
I've had a spell."

"You said you wanted me to be quick. I'm very good at what I do."

"Yes, you must be.  I feel quite, uh, refreshed and relaxed.  My mind. 
It's never been so, uh, quiet, so calm.  Strange."

Sharon dressed him and escorted him downstairs and out the door.

"You know, Beverly, you must have a special touch.  I've never seen him
look so satisfied."

"Thanks ma'am.  Do you have anyone else for me?"

"Three in one night?  You're very hard working.  I'm afraid the last isn't
a paying customer, but it's part of the job.  Mr. Koslowski's nephew, Mr.
Grint.  He always wants to sample anyone new here.  He's very good
looking, I mean, the exact opposite of Mr. Koslowski, very big, but I'm
afraid he's not always very, well, he's not what you're used to.  Oh, here
he is.  I was just telling Sharon about you."

"Sharon?  You look familiar.  Huh, we just got rid of a Sharon at one of
our dives, but she was one foot in the grave.  You sure look like her
though.  Well, let's go."

Sharon turned back.  "I do get paid for this, don't I ma'am?"

"That's up to me, sweetie."  He pulled her into a back room and Sharon
went along.

"Get undressed, so I can look you over.  Yeah, very nice.  Turn around,
bend over.  Oh yeah, nice tight ass.  Do you do it much from behind?" 
Sharon shook her head.  "Good, nice and tight's the way I like it.  You'll
feel it kid, but after tonight, it'll be a lot easier.  You'll thank me
for it.  That's what all the girls say."

"Aren't you going to wash first?"

"Sorry, house rules don't apply to me."

"Then, stay away from me.  That's one of my rules.  And another rule is I
don't do it from behind."

"Listen girl, I make the rules."

"Only if I work here.  And I quit."

Grint smiled.  "I'll take your resignation when I'm finished with you. 
Now what are you going to do about it?  No one will come in to help you. 
Not even your friendly madam.  I give the orders here.  Especially with
uncle feeling a little sick tonight."  He unbuttoned his shirt and puffed
out his chest.  "Besides, with this body, I would think you'd want to play
a little."  He flexed his arm and admired the sharp peak of his bicep. 
"Not that you have any choice."

Sharon thought quickly.  'I could overpower him easily.  Why, I'm as
strong as ten men like him.  But he did so much to hurt me before and
would again.  Beating him up isn't good enough.  He's so proud of his
body.  Well I think it's time I looked as strong as I am.'

She walked over to him.  "I am Sharon Green, the girl you and your uncle
threw out on the street.  All I can say is that if there's a higher power
somewhere, he'd help me get back from you what you took from me."

Grint raised his eyebrows, then sneered.  "Now aren't I scared.  All I can
say, Sharon Green, is you must know some plastic surgeon.  Come closer, I
want to feel if they're real."  He pulled her in and squeezed Sharon's
backside.  "Very nice work.  I hope he didn't leave any scars.  They won't
look good next to the needle marks."

Sharon closed her eyes and put her hands on his back, thinking, 'All right
Grint, now slowly, over the next ten minutes, I want take your muscles and
your strength and leave you with the amount of muscle and strength I had
the day they threw me out of 460 East Main Street.  Yes, and your height. 
I want to be as tall and broad as you are now, with suitable additions and
other changes to my bone structure, circulatory system and other internal
organs.  We'll see how you look when you're five feet four inches tall. 
And I want to know everything you know about your uncle's finances,
account numbers, passwords, protocols.'

Grint put his hand on the neckline of Sharon's dress and ripped it down
the middle.  Sharon stood passively as he quickly pulled off her
underclothes.  She glanced at her arms and saw a slight thickening of her
bicep.  She noticed she was getting taller too.  Wanting to prolong the
moment of surprise, she sat down on the bed.

Taking that as a sign of her submission, Grint started to undress himself.
 "What the devil!  I don't remember this shirt being too big.  And look at
the hem on my pants!"  He frowns.  "Damn tailor.  I'll take care of him! 
Now little girl, let me have a taste of your sweet little tits."  He lay
down heavily on top of her and started sucking on Sharon's breast.

Three minutes passed.  Sharon abruptly pushed him off, got up and moved
away from the bed.  Grint looked up angrily and followed, but when he
reached her, something was wrong.  He was tripping on his pants, and her
head came to just under Grint's chin.

"Look's like somebody was listening, you worm.  You're shrinking and I'm
growing."  She stared up at him.  His eyes widened as he saw her getting
taller before his eyes.

"What's going on here?  Did you slip me something?  I feel like I'm
hallucinating."  He swung his arm around to slap her but Sharon caught him
in mid-air.

"Will you look at that!  I stopped you cold. You must be getting weaker
too.   And look at this!"  She held up her other arm and flexed it.   A
shapely roll of muscle popped out of her arm.  "I never had one of those
before!"  She reached over and squeezed Grint's arm, which she held firmly
in her grasp.  "Yep!  It's definitely smaller."

Sharon looked down at the rest of her body.  "Oooh, look at that stomach. 
It's looking harder by the second.  And my legs!  Can you believe those
calves?  Oh oh, you're pants are falling down."  She reached over, pulled
them down to his ankles and squeezed his thighs.  "They're feeling pretty
soft, just like mine were!"  Sharon straightened up again.  "Hey, I'm
taller than you now."

Sharon's body continued to grow.  Large muscular bulges appeared on her
arms and chest.  Her legs were getting thicker and hard, while Grint was
getting smaller and thinner.  A small roll of fat appeared around his
stomach, and loose flesh jiggled on his arms and legs.  

"So Grint, what were you going to do with my tight ass?"

"This is impossible.  It must be some kind of dream, or illusion."

Sharon released his arm, put one of her large hands around his now slender
waist and lifted him to her eye level.  "See if it's a dream, Grint.  Tell
me what you think of this muscle."  She flexed her other arm and it rose
in the same sharp peak that Grint showed her just minutes earlier.  "It
looks just like yours did.  But feel it."  Grint stared at it and looked
down at his own shapeless arm.  "I SAID FEEL IT!," Sharon roared.  Grint
reached over.

"It's so hard!"  He felt up and down her bicep.  "It's so dense, it's like
lead!  I've never felt a muscle so hard."  Sharon reached over to the top
of a cast iron floor lamp and pulls it down, bending it like a stick of
chewing gum.  

"In your dream, Grint, what do you think this arm could do to you?"

Grint looked frightened and yelled.  "Help!  Help!  She's going to attack
me."

There was a stampede of feet and in burst Eric, the house bouncer, a
strapping man almost six feet six inches tall, and weighing over three
hundred pounds of muscle.  "Hey boss, what happened to you?"

"Forget about me, just get her away from me."

"Look girl, I don't know who you are, but let go of Mr. Grint, now."

Sharon dropped Grint onto the floor.  The ten minutes had passed and his
head barely reached the top of her firm breasts, which now were attached
to a pair of powerful pectoral muscles.  She slowly turned to the bouncer
and lay her hand gracefully across his chest, thinking, 'In one minute,
you will be the same size and strength as Grint, and I will be that much
larger and stronger.'

Immediately, she began growing at a rapid rate - an inch and fifteen
pounds every five seconds. In less than ten seconds she was taller than
Eric, muscles bursting from her arms and shoulders.  She continued to
grow, until after the minute ended, she stood over seven feet tall.

She looked down at Eric and Grint, whose heads now barely reached her
belly button.  "Was there something you wanted to tell me?"  She flexed
her arm and whistled at the soccer ball that rose from it.  "I think your
muscles look very nice on me."

Eric turned to Grint.  "This isn't really happening, is it?"  Looking up,
he yelled, "What have you done to me?"  He started pounding on Sharon,
raining blows against her thick web of stomach muscles.  

She looked down at him with contempt.  "You're annoying me."  With a
casual slap from the back of her hand, Sharon flung him across the room. 
He slammed against the wall and fell, unconscious.

One of the girls from the house stepped in.  "Excuse me, I - what's going
on here?"

"Grint and I are having a little fight, but he's shrinking away from it."

She looked up at Sharon and shook her head, puzzled.  "Is that really Mr.
Grint?"

"It sure is."

"Margie, get me some help.  Call the police.  Anything."

"You know, Margie, I don't know how you feel about Grint, but if there
ever were something you wanted to say or do to him, this would be a good
time."

Margie walked over to him.  She was a healthy young girl, almost five feet
eight inches.  Tentatively, she took Grint's hand and twisted his arm
around his back.  Grint struggled to get free, but Margie, gaining
confidence, pushed it further and further.

"Hey, he's really weak.  Look what I can do to him."

"Stop!  STOP!  You're going to break it!"

Margie was gritting her teeth now.  "You disgusting pig!  You humiliated
me.  You ruined me.  This is the least I can do."  She pushed farther and
the crack of Grint's arm was clearly audible.  He collapsed in tears on
the floor.

"I couldn't have done it better, Margie."




Margie looked up at Sharon.  "Who are you?  What happened to him, and
you?"

"I really can't explain it to you, but could I ask you a favor?  Is there
anyone here who could sew me a dress?  I don't fit in what I wore in
here."

"Clarissa can, but I don't know if she will.  She's pretty touchy, and she
and Grint, well, she's his favorite."

"Why don't you send her in and let me talk to her."

"What about Grint?"

"I'll keep an eye on him."

A few minutes later, Clarissa entered.  She was only five feet three
inches and small-boned, but exceedingly well-endowed, the weight of her
breasts giving her a slight stoop.  She looked at Grint and Eric, prone
and in pain, then up at Sharon, and scowled.  "What the hell is going on
here?", she asked in a high-pitched whine.

"We're all having a little trouble with our clothes, Clarissa.  I hear
you're good with a needle.  I want you to make me a couple of dresses,
tonight."

"Ha!  You've got another one comin'.  I got other things to do.  And
what'd you do to these guys?  They look shrunk or something?"

"I don't have time for this.  I'll just do it myself."  She walked over to
Clarissa and put her hand on her head, thinking, 'give me all her sewing
skills, and I'll take her breasts too.  Mine are looking a little small on
me.'

Clarissa suddenly straightened up.  "Oh.  I can stand - hey!  What
happened to my tits?  I'm as flat as a kid!"

Sharon was feeling her new breasts.  "They still are not quite large
enough for me.  Well, enough for now; I can take care of that tomorrow." 
She walked over to the closet and found a sewing box and immediately
started cutting and stitching a top and skirt from the clothes she and
Grint had been wearing, ripping out seams and lining, mixing materials,
until her black dress was usable as a tight top and Grint's suit as a wool
skirt.  She put her remaining $1,000 in a pocket she left on the inside of
her skirt and turned to Clarissa, who was still staring at her flat chest
in the mirror.  "Please thank the madam for me.  She was very kind."

PART 4

Now fully dressed, Sharon burst from the room and strode quickly down the
hall, firmly pushing customers and ladies to the side to clear her path. 
Finding the outside door locked, she looked upward in annoyance, and with
one hand pushed the door off its hinges and out into the street.  Ignoring
the calls of the madam, she turned uptown.

Sharon knew she had all the power she could want except in one area -
money.  But she knew how to get it.  Walking quickly, she covered the
seven miles to the university in an hour.  She found the scientist's
office and booted up his computer.  Then, combining her knowledge of
Koslowski's and the Englishman's accounts and the combined intelligence
she had absorbed, she amassed over $30 million within ninety minutes and
ordered it transferred when business began the next day to a little-used
Panamanian account Grint had set up to skim funds from his uncle's
businesses.  She changed all of the passwords and then quickly left.  

From the university, she walked to a hotel near campus.  The night clerk
stared open-mouthed at her size, but found her a room with a king-sized
bed, which Sharon could use lengthwise.  She phoned overseas to set up
bank accounts in London and Geneva in the name of nominee owners she would
create the next day, sketched out plans for more financial maneuvers, and
went to bed.

She slept for a few hours, then phoned the largest law firm in town for an
afternoon appointment with a trust lawyer.  She ordered fabric for several
dresses, arranged for the delivery of a sewing machine, thread, buttons,
zippers and other tools to her room, and worked feverishly through the
morning to make herself a small wardrobe.  By two o'clock, she was sitting
in the reception room of Creavelle & Combs, dressed elegantly in beige.

The receptionist called to her, "Miss Green, the lawyer, Mrs. Berk, is
ready for you.  I'll walk you to her office."  Sharon stood up and
acknowledged the stares she attracted from everyone in the office,
realizing that she was much too conspicuous in her current size.  

Sharon laughed when she entered Mrs. Berk's office.  Her attorney was a
petite woman, barely five feet tall, with fire- red hair.  She rose to
greet her new client, but barely reached Sharon's waist.  They shook
hands, and the attorney remarked at the difference in the size of their
hands.

"Perhaps I should just shake your forefinger.  At least I could get my
hand around that."

"Please.  Your handshake is very firm and confident.  That would spoil
it."

Mrs. Berk smiled.  "How may I help you Miss Green?"

"I have recently come into a great deal of money.  For reasons that are
apparent, I greatly value my privacy.  I rarely do business in person and
I need assistance in structuring my affairs to insure the least intrusion
by others.  What I say to you is confidential, am I correct?"

"Certainly Miss Green.  I am your attorney.  In this State, I cannot
reveal what you tell me in confidence, unless you intend to commit a
violent crime."

"I assure you, I am not a violent person.  I have other means of
accomplishing my ends.  Now, I wish to have access to my funds through
accounts in several countries.  I will need to create corporations in
these countries and powers of attorneys here and in New York, where I
intend to live, to enable me to act through them through written
instruments, no questions asked.  I also want to arrange investment
vehicles in certain tax-advantaged jurisdictions.  Here, I have written
this out in more detail.  Can you do this for me?"

The attorney scanned the paper, raising her eyebrows several times.  "This
is a very sophisticated strategy, Miss Green.  I will have to do some
research.  I will tell you I am very happy to represent you, but you might
be better served by an attorney in New York.  They are more accustomed to
this type of work."

"Are you capable of doing this for me, Mrs. Berk?"

"Why, yes.  Those lawyers in New York are no smarter than I am.  But they
do see these problems more often than I do."

"Well, I have chosen you as my attorney.  How much time will it take?"

"I can do some of this right away, this afternoon in fact.  Some of what
you've set out here may take weeks."

"How soon may I access my funds?  I need to address some personal concerns
immediately."

"I will check with our tax department, but I am sure I can arrange a line
of credit for you at a local bank within a day."

Sharon smiled and sat back.  "That would be wonderful.  However, I do not
want any accounts in my name."

"We can open a trust account through the firm, although I would have some
information about how you plan to use the funds."

"It would be primarily for the purchase and furnishing of my residence in
New York.  I also need to buy some clothes."

"Oh!  There would be no problem with that.  I can have an account ready
for you tomorrow."

"Excellent."

"Miss Green?"

"You may call me Sharon, but only you."

"Thank you.  I would be happy to.  Please call me Esther."

"Yes, I will.  Esther.  You were saying?"

"Um, Sharon.  I don't wish to pry.  And I completely understand your wish
for privacy.  If I am to represent you, I would like to know a little more
about you.  Would that be alright with you?"

"You may ask questions.  I cannot guarantee I will answer all of them."

"I understand.  Have you lived here long?"

"In Pittsburgh?  Yes.  A long time."

"That's extraordinary.  I pride myself on knowing the city well.  I have
never heard of anyone with, with uh, your ..."

"My attributes.  Yes.  Of course, I haven't always been this large.  As
you can see, I attract a great deal of attention when I go out in public."

"It's funny that you should have chosen me as your attorney.  I'm so,
well, small.  Well, anyway, can I ask you why you have suddenly needed to
arrange your affairs like this?"

"Previously, I have been taken care of by others.  I have recently gained
my independence and quite a large settlement of some accumulated debts. 
Both financial and personal I should say."

"And you did this without an attorney."

"I did have some help, but not in the legal field."

"You certainly are a very capable woman, Sharon."

"I have not always been so.  I can see from the plaques on your wall that
you are a very accomplished attorney, and you are quite young as well."

Esther turns around.  "Yes, I suppose so.  My life is . . . Well, that
isn't your problem."

Sharon looked at her closely.  "You can tell me Esther.  I can see you are
a good person.  We may not know each other well, but I can see that I like
you.  Perhaps I can help you."

A tear appeared in Esther's eye.  "You are very kind.  I don't know why
someone of your importance would bother with me."  She looked at Sharon's
ample frame and laughed.  "I doubt you could even appreciate my problem. 
No one would dare to threaten you."

"You are married.  I see your ring.  But there is no picture of your
husband on your desk."  

"No.  He and I ... He's an attorney too.  A very highly regarded tax law
lawyer at a competing firm."

"You are very nervous talking about him.  He intimidates you.  He is very
expert in his field, but my guess is that you are an abused woman.  Am I
right?"

Esther nodded.  "I am so ashamed.  Why am I talking about this with you?"

"Because I asked you.  Now.  We shall do some work together.  You must
arrange my financial affairs very quickly, because I must leave Pittsburgh
very soon.  I will also help you with your problem, and you will be of
some additional help to me, although I cannot tell you exactly how.  I
will tell you something in confidence Esther.  I have certain unique
abilities.  Tell me, would you like to be, say, a foot taller, and strong
as well?"

"I don't understand."

Sharon smiled.  "I know.  But it is a simple question, really."

Esther looked down at her thin arms.  "I don't know.  I've always been
small.  I can't imagine what it would be like."

"You will look down where you used to look up.  You will walk without
fear.  And you will have to purchase a new wardrobe and endure silly
questions."  Esther looked confused.  "Here, come around to my side of
your desk."  

Esther complied and stood next to Sharon, who held out her thick arm and
tightened her muscles.  Esther's eyes widened at the bulging bicep on
Sharon's upper arm, larger than Esther's head.

"That's, that's just unbelievable!  I just couldn't ...."

"I quite agree.  I have gotten too big.  But you could be six feet tall
and quite strong without looking like this.  You can be sure that your
husband would never bother you again.  And I sure it would do wonders for
your career.  It will give you an appearance of authority, to go along
with your evident competence."

"What do I have to do?"

"You must arrange a dinner for me tonight, preferably at your home,
although a private club would be satisfactory.  Your husband must attend
as well.  You can tell him I am a potential client of his too.  I do not
care, but he must be there."

"I'll do as you say."

"Good.  I will also give you instructions there for my trust account.  We
may not see each other again after tonight, but I will be in touch with
you by telephone."  Sharon stood up.  "It's been a pleasure Esther.  I
look forward to tonight.  Please telephone me at my hotel with the
address."

"Yes, I will.  Thank you."

"Please.  The pleasure will be mine.  You have been, and will be, of great
help to me."



Sharon returned to her room.  Later that afternoon, Esther called to give
Sharon account numbers and codes asked her to meet them at the Union Club
at eight.  Sharon immediately upgraded her room to a suite, ordered a
computer and more fabric and sewing supplies.

Ten minutes after eight, Sharon made her entrance into the main dining
room of the Union Club.  Conversation stopped, as none of the stuffy old
men of the club had ever before seen a woman over seven feet tall, with
arms thicker than their legs, wearing a low cut, sleeveless and backless
velvet dress.  Esther's husband Burt stood open-mouthed as Esther glided
to their table.  He held out his hand and she took it, smiling, while she
thought 'in two hours, I will know all you know about taxes, thank you.' 
She put her large hand out to take Esther's thinking, 'in three hours, you
shall begin to grow, and ten minutes later, you shall be one foot taller
than you are now, with suitable adjustments in your bones and organs, and
you shall have 150% of the muscular build of your husband and 175% of his
strength.  Enjoy.'  Sharon handed a list of instructions to Esther, who
placed it in her purse.  Satisfied that her work was complete, she settled
in to enjoy her meal.

"Uh, Miss Green, Esther was telling me you may have some tax work for me. 
You know, I am considered the top tax lawyer in the city, and my firm is
extremely well regarded nationally."

"Yes, Mr. Berk, but I was impressed with your wife's understanding of my
needs."

"Oh sure.  Esther's good, but with your kind of money, you need the best."

"You mean, your wife is not the best.  I'm disappointed in your lack of
regard for her."

"No offense meant, ma'am.  Esther and I just have a friendly little
competition, right honey?  Let me ask you, for example.  Did she suggest
using a trust with a situs in Monaco.  There's a special arrangement I've
worked out with a bank there ...."

"Mr. Berk.  I will not have you discuss these details of my affairs in
such a public place.  Now, I wanted to get to know you, and I think I
already have.  May we order?"

Sharon had only to raise her finger to attract the attention of every
waiter in the room.  "I'm quite hungry tonight.  I usually eat quite a
lot, I'm afraid.  I will have the steak dinner, as well as the fish and
the vegetarian platter.  Would you bring them one at a time please.  And a
large salad."

"I'll just have the diet special, no appetizer."

"Nonsense Esther.  You must eat more.  Please have a steak." 

"You'll never get her to eat, Sharon.  She eats like a bird."

Esther looked down at menu.  "I've changed my mind," she said softly.  "I
will have the New York strip steak, the ladies' portion."

"I will have the same, the gentleman's portion of course.  And a bottle of
your best burgundy."

"Mr. Berk.  I would like to hear about your tax practice.  Who are your
clients?  Your correspondents?  In what jurisdictions do you have
experience?  How often you become involved in disputes?"

"That's a lot of questions Sharon.  Are you sure you can handle it all
over dinner?"

"I'm all ears."

He proceeded to talk for almost an hour.  Esther spent most of the time
looking into her plate.  Sharon listened carefully, looking over at Esther
from time to time.  After the dinner plates were cleared, Sharon said, "I
must excuse myself to the powder room before desert.  Esther?"  She
nodded, got up and the two walked away together.

"I knew you would be impressed.  Everyone is when they meet him.  Really
Sharon, if you want to give him the work, I understand."

"Nonsense.  I will not need his help, only yours.  I only wish to warn
you.  He may become somewhat disturbed or disoriented after dessert. 
Also, make sure you are home by 11:00 p.m.  I must be back at my hotel by
10:30.  You may call me later tonight if you need to talk.  After that, I
will have to phone you.  Enjoy yourself."

"What is going to happen?"

I'm sorry, but I do not want to tell you.  It would ruin the fun.  Let's
return."

"What do you girls talk about when you go to the bathroom together?  You
never see men do it."

"Perhaps you men should, Mr. Berk.  It is almost 10:10, and I must return
to my hotel room shortly.  Would you refresh my memory on the tax deferral
opportunities I would have upon exchanging my controlling interests in
real estate investment trusts for properties I would acquire directly?"

"Certainly."  His eyes widened.  "I mean, I would have to look it up."

"I see.  You seemed so knowledgeable just a moment ago.  Then would you
tell me whether the new tax treaty with the Netherlands will enable my
Dutch company to avoid U.S. tax on treasury obligations?"

"I-I don't know."

"Oh dear.  Do you think you will be able to deduct the cost of this
dinner, Mr. Berk?"

"Deduct it from, uh, what Miss Green?"

"From your taxable income.  Or is it only 50% or 80% deductible?"

"I'm sorry, I"

"Dear, didn't the law just change on that?"

"She asked *me*, not you!  Miss Green, I just can't answer the question
right now."

"Do I have to pay income tax on the value of the stamps on letters I
receive from my sister?"

"I can't seem to think."

"Burt, what's wrong?"

He looked at her with rage and pulled his arm back to hit her, but
realizing where they are, thought better of it.  "Nothing.  I'm just tired
suddenly.  We should be going.  Can I call you a cab, uh, Sharon?"

"No thank you Mr. Berk.  This was a very interesting dinner.  I was
impressed by the presentation you made, although it is odd that you were
unable to answer my questions afterwards.  I am sure that Esther's firm
will." 

She rose and they all left.

As Esther and Burt walked toward the car, she looked up at him.  "Do you
think you may have had a stroke?   Do you feel well enough to drive?  Do
you remember where we live?"  

He slapped her across the face.  "Don't patronize me.  I feel fine.  I
must be having some kind of memory lapse or something."

Esther sniffled and climbed into her seat, checking the seat belt
carefully.  "Alright.  Let's go right home."

He drove home quickly, paid the babysitter and headed upstairs to join
Esther in the bedroom.  It was 11:05 p.m.

"Of all the nerve!"

"Why are you angry with me?"

"Showing me up in front of her.  You know I'm the tax expert."

"Burt, I let you do all the talking, just as you asked."

"I heard you butt in about the law changing.  Just when I was feeling a
little off, you pipe in."

He loomed over her and grabbed her arms.

"No.  Don't hit me.  Please, no."

"You stupid little cunt!  You probably set up this thing with that Amazon
to embarrass me.  What did you do, spike my food?"

"I swear, Burt.  I don't know what you're talking about."

It was now 11:12 p.m.  Burt hurled her across the room and onto the bed. 
He took off his belt and walked toward her.  Esther looked terrified and
held her hands up to her face.  Burt tried to reach into the neckline of
Esther's dress to pull it off her, but could not.  It was too tight.

"What the devil!"  He looked down at her hands.  They seemed larger.  He
heard a rip.  Her dress was splitting at the seam in back.  "Well, good!" 
He pulled it off her, roughly.  Esther leaned back and wrestled free of
his one-handed grasp and tumbled off the side of the bed.

"This slip!  It's suffocating me.  It's too tight suddenly."  Burt heard
another rip.

"What are you doing to your clothes?"

It was 11:15 p.m.

Esther stood up, across the bed from Burt.  She was now 5'4" tall, six
inches shorter than her husband.

"I'm growing!"

Burt looked her over.  "Yes, you certainly are."  He walked around and
looked down into her eyes.  "But don't get any *big* ideas, Esther."  He
pushed her back down on the bed and held up his right arm, ready to beat
her with the belt.  Terrified again, she rolled over and evaded the slap
of the belt, running into the bathroom and locking it.

"It won't work Esther.  I had a key made."  He taunted her in a sing-song
voice.  "Damn!  It's on my other key chain.  But don't worry.  I'll be
right back."  He walked downstairs, rooted around the closet until he
found his raincoat, stopped for a glass of water and walked back upstairs
to unlock the bathroom.

It was 11:20 p.m.

Burt whistled as he approached the door.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Burt?"

"I always finish what I start, Esther.  You know that."  He turned the key
in the lock and pushed the door open.

It was 11:22 p.m.  

Burt looked in ... and up at Esther.  His mouth dropped open,  "Wha?"

Esther quickly stepped forward and took his forearm and squeezed it with
her hand.

"Oww!  You're hurting me."

"I thought so.  Look at the size of these muscles."  She flexed her other
arm and a 19" bicep rose smartly.  "And I'm big all over."  She pushed her
husband against the wall of the bathroom and held her outstretched arm
against his throat.  He swung wildly but his arms were too short to reach
her.  She punched him in the stomach.  "How does that feel, big shot?"  He
started coughing and collapsed onto the floor.  "NO YOU DON'T!  Not yet. 
Get up!"  She forced him to stand and pushed him out the door, onto the
bed.  She followed closely behind him and leapt on top of him, pinning him
to the bed.

"You're too heavy.  I can't breath."

"I weigh about two hundred pounds now, just 25 more than you.  Think how I
felt when you weighed twice as much as I.  You would just grind away at
me.  I thought I was going to die."  Sharon presses down with her pubic
bone against Burt's crotch.  "How does that feel now?"

"I can't feel anything down there.  You must have cut off the blood
supply."

"Too bad.  I can't feel any erection, but your bone feels good against
me."

"Please stop Esther.  Please.  You may be ... damaging me."

She let up.  "This is more consideration than you ever gave me."

The phone rang and Esther answered.

"Hello dear.  Are you having fun?"

"Sharon!  How did you do this?  It's wonderful!"

"I'm glad you like it."

"Poor Burt.  First his memory loss and now he can't beat up his wife any
more."

"Will you be alright if his memory does not return?"

"I think so.  We're well provided for.  Did you - ?

"Sshh!  I won't say.  I will call you."

Esther hung up the phone and looked over at her frightened husband.  "Can
you tell me whether Sharon will be taxed on the value of the stamps on
letters she receives from her sister?"

Burt shook his head.

"Well, until you can, I expect you to keep house.  And it better stay
clean when I get home."


PART 5

It was eleven-thirty p.m., and Sharon was sewing again, this time cutting
down her dresses to fit her new six-foot frame.  She sighed that she would
have to sew her clothes again in just a few days.  She was still too
muscular and conspicuous.  But she smiled to think that giving away her
strength could be as much fun as taking it.  She was still more than ten
times as strong as each of those burly construction workers.  Passing some
of that on to women she chose, plus a bit more of the bulky muscle, would
still leave her many times as strong as anyone else, and with an
intimidating, but more natural, physique.  The red highlights in her brown
hair added some more color to her appearance.  Sharon hoped Esther would
understand.

She thought about little Esther, now twice as strong as her husband, and
how different she sounded over the telephone.  Sharon could visualize
Esther reveling in her power, holding that jerk Burt down with one hand,
forcing him to satisfy her needs.  Sharon felt herself getting hot and
moist.  What about my needs, she thought.  It's been so long since I've
even considered them.

Satisfied with her wardrobe, she logged on to her computer and worked for
two hours with her new financial software, setting up trading accounts,
accessing databases and applying her new intelligence and experience to a
few arbitrage opportunities in the Asian markets.  She logged off, packed
her computer and other possessions and slept for six hours.  When she
awoke, she arranged for her packages to be sent by express delivery to the
Ritz Carlton in New York and checked out by telephone.

Sharon could not get a first class seat on her flight to New York,
although the coach section was nearly empty.  She squeezed into her small
window seat in coach class.  The middle seat was empty, so she picked up
the arm.  In the aisle seat was a tall, attractive blond woman, who looked
her over carefully.

"Couldn't sit up front?  You look like you're used to traveling more
comfortably."

"Yes.  But I wanted to get to New York this afternoon."

"Me too.  Must be something going on.  This was the only flight I could
get from L.A.  Imagine, L.A. to N.Y. through Pittsburgh.  At least it's
not crowded back here.  I'll move if you want some more space."

"No.  You needn't do that for me.  Are you traveling on business?"

"Yes.  I'm a writer and my boss is giving a presentation.  At the last
minute he wanted some changes made, and demanded I come to New York to do
them in person.  Imagine!  With faxes and modems I could have had it done
by now, but he's not happy unless he can review it with me in person.  My
name's Sharon, by the way, Sharon Blest, with a "t"."

Sharon smiled.  "Sharon Green."

"That's a funny coincidence.  What do you do?"

"I'm an investor.  I manage my own portfolio.  I'm just moving to New
York."

"I'm jealous.  Just think, not having to work for anyone."

"Oh, I've put in my time."

"What did you do?"

"It was a service business, keeping clients happy."

"Did you like it?"

Sharon G's eyes narrowed.  "No," she said softly.  "I wasn't treated
well."

"I'm sorry.  You seem so...I mean, it doesn't look like anyone could take
advantage of you."

"Well, I haven't always been so well developed."

"It's none of my business.  I know how is."  She looked more serious. 
"I'm sure my boss has some other ideas for after the meeting.  I can tell
you one thing.  He wouldn't dare if I had biceps like yours.  I try to
keep in shape, but I've never been able to build any muscle."

"You would want to?  Not every woman would want to look like this."

"Are you kidding?  It would be such a blast!"

Sharon smiled.  "Why do you think so?"

"I've never had any trouble getting men interested, but I hate the way
they always think they can take control.  Sometimes, sometimes, I just
want to be able to do things my way, and not have to ask.  You know, I can
usually get what I want, but not directly.  I mean, I can't believe I'm
telling you all this, but you know how it is.  A woman who's smart can
find a way to lead, but you still have to make the man think it's his
idea.  And deep down, he knows he has the power.  It's not like I'm into
the domination thing.  Not at all.  I would just like to be able to look
the guy in the eye and have him know that I'm the boss.  Am I making any
sense?"

Sharon G. was looking at her intently.  "Yes, of course you are.  I find
what you are saying very interesting."

Sharon B. blushed.  "But, what's it like for you?  I mean, this is all
just in my imagination.  How do guys react to your body?"

"I must confess Sharon; I have not, uh, been with a man like that since
I've become so muscular.  I don't really know what would happen."

Sharon B. sat back in her seat and looked out the window as the airplane
neared the runway.  "Would you like to hear my fantasy?" Sharon nods. 
"Ok. This is how I see it, for me at least.  I meet a guy I like.  He's
gorgeous, say about six one, dark hair.  We talk for hours at a really
nice restaurant.  Our eyes meet.  I can tell he's dying to make love to
me.  He drives me home - I live in Santa Monica - and we walk a few blocks
along the beach until we get to my condo.  I ask him upstairs for a drink.
 He sinks back on my soft couch and I pour two glasses of wine for us.  He
proposes a toast, to my beauty.  We sip our wine and put our glasses down
on my coffee table.  He puts his arm around me and pulls me over to kiss
him.  I go, willingly.  He kisses me gently, but I want more and I kiss
him passionately, my tongue exploring his mouth.  He's surprised, but
pleased, and puts his hand on my breast.  I slip mine around him, to check
out his buns, and I squeeze them, a little roughly."  She sees Sharon's
flushed look.  "Hey, are you ok?  I'm not embarrassing you am I?"

Sharon G. shook her head.  "No, no.  I can see why you're a writer.  Tell
me more."

"Ok.  Here's my fantasy part, because it'll never happen this way.  You
see, my arm muscle is up against his back, and when I reach around and
squeeze him, it flexes and he feels it.  It's big and hard.  He's
distracted from the kiss, but I keep going and move my hand up his back,
feeling his firm muscles with my fingers.  Each time I press, it pumps my
muscle up again.  I know he's curious, but I won't stop kissing him. 
Finally, I break it off, and breathlessly suggest we move to the bedroom. 
He nods and we stand up.  I walk in front, knowing he's watching me and
dying to know what I look like underneath my clothes."

"Would you ladies like something to drink?"

Sharon G. looked startled.  She looks up at the flight attendant and says,
"I'd like some red wine.  Sharon, may I buy you a drink?"

She shook her head.  "I better not.  I'm going to be up late tonight. 
Just some coffee."

The attendant handed over the drinks and pretzels and walked away.

Sharon B. smiled.  "So I can feel his eyes on me as I walk into my room. 
I sit on the bed and start to unbutton my dress, but then stop in the
middle and look at him.  'You first,' I say.  He smiles and quickly pulls
off his shirt.  I lick my lips at his firm, hairless chest, his tight
stomach and his well-conditioned arms.  He drops his pants.  I can see his
large, erect penis straining to be released.  It makes me feel warm and
tingly.  Now I'm ready to continue.  I unbutton the rest of my dress and
reach around to unhook my bra.  I want him to see my breasts first, before
I slip my dress off.  He looks at them longingly and I sense his desire,
which makes me even hotter.  He touches them gently and bends down to
suck.  I let him, and meanwhile slip off the top of my dress, which falls
to the bed.  He's too busy with my breasts to look up, and I enjoy his
delicious attention, noticing the small wet spot on his briefs and
anticipating, a trifle nervously, his reaction to seeing the rest of me."

"But I have to wait.  He must love my breasts, because he now switches to
the other.  You know, some men feel they have to give both equal time.  I
don't mind that at all.  His lips are firm, but his tongue is very gentle.
 I'm very turned on.  Now he starts exploring my body with his hands.  He
feels my firm back and shoulder, the ridges of the muscles along both
sides of my spine.  I try desperately to keep them relaxed, delaying the
moment of discovery as long as I can.  His other hand moves around my hip
and down my leg, which is still inside my dress.  I raise my hip slightly,
and he deftly slips his hand under my dress and panty hose and works them
down my legs.  He must now be feeling the size and firmness of my leg
muscles, but perhaps this doesn't surprise him, because I've told him I
like to dance."  She looked over at Sharon.  "Are you with me?"

"All the way, please go on."

"I decide I'm ready, so with his hand under my thigh I tighten those
muscles.  Their size and firmness push his hand into the mattress,
trapping it there, and catching him off balance, I tumble him over gently,
onto the bed, my left breast still in his mouth.  He releases my breast
and looks up, a bit startled, but I smile at him and run my finger lightly
down his chest to his hard stomach.  His eyes follow my hand and then he
looks up my arm to see my bicep.  My arm is relaxed, but he can see a
bulge where most women would be smooth.  I can tell he is curious, and I
give him a look to let him know it's alright, he can ask me.  And of
course he does.  'Do you work out?'  'Oh yes,' I tell him.  'It's
practically my second job.'  I can tell he's thinking about what this
means, and while he ponders I stroke him, feather lightly at first, then
more firmly.  But I know he's not ready.  He wants to know more about my
body now, and I'll be patient until he asks."

The flight attendant walked by, giving the women an odd look while she
took away their empty glasses.  As she left, Sharon G. shifted in her
seat.  "I think she's been listening.  You know, your fantasy is very
stimulating."

"I'm getting hot too.  Telling you about it is really fun!  Finally, he
asks, 'so how much do you lift?'  Men are always want numbers, you know. 
I smile.  'More than you'd think,' and then I kiss him sweetly and then
more passionately.  I want him to feel a little competitive, but not
intimidated.  I look down and see his insistent hard on, so at least he's
not feeling worried, and I think maybe wondering how strong I am has him
even more excited than before.  I decide I really like him and want to
show him more.  So I lie alongside him, my right arm tucked under my side,
the left on top, still caressing him.  I can see his eyes darting toward
my bicep and I tantalize him, letting the muscle dance a little as my
fingers play with him.  He knows there's something there, but he can't
tell how big it is.  Maybe he realizes he's being very passive, but he
starts to stroke me too, his fingers easing their way inside.  I LOVE it,
he's so sweet to think of me when he's dying of curiosity.  I could just
let him go on and kiss me with his perfect lips, but that's not all I want
tonight, so I take the big step and start nuzzling his bicep.  I've
already checked it out and it's a nice one, full and peaked.  I say, 'Want
to compare?'  He smiles and agrees, confidently of course, and hurries to
show off, but I say, 'wait!' and tell him to sit on the bed in front of
me, so that we can each see each other.  I sit up too."

"Now he seems to notice for the first time how thick my upper arms are. 
I'm not surprised.  That's not the first thing men look at when they see
me without my clothes.  They look at my round breasts, and I love them for
it.  But I don't want him to get all worried.  It's time now to press
ahead.  I nod for him to start and he gives me an impressive pose.  I lick
my lips.  'Can I feel it?', I ask.  He says sure and I grip it with my
fingers.  Now I'm ready to show him something, and I squeeze, just a
little.  He's hard, but not like me, and I don't want to hurt him.  He
looks a little surprised at the strength in my fingers, but I don't give
him time to think.  'Now me,' I say, and I cock my left arm, the smaller
one, and start to tense it.  I have a lot of control, and the show begins
with a small bulge, which then keeps growing.  I'm only halfway there and
already I'm as big as he was a minute ago.  His jaw drops and I reach my
peak, 23".  (My right one is 24" but I'll wait on that until I see how it
goes.)  He's stunned, so I take his hand and place it on top.  It looks so
small and helpless sitting on the missile bursting from my arm.  'Don't
you want to feel it?'  He nods, unable to speak, and then, rediscovering
movement, tries to squeeze mine as I did his, but of course he can't. 
'It's so hard, like a rock.'  I smile at him, nodding my head proudly."

The flight attendant walked by again, reminding the two Sharons to buckle
their seat belts before landing and looking sternly at Sharon B.  

"She doesn't approve of your story."

"Ssh!  Let me finish before we land.  So, I look down and see his penis
has gotten a little smaller.  'What's wrong?' I ask with a little pout. 
'It's just, you're so big, so strong.  I didn't expect....'  I smile at
him.  'I'm strong, yes, but very gentle.  Watch.'  Then I slip my hands
under his thighs and lift him in the air, tilting him forward so that his
penis is right over my mouth.  I lower him slowly into my waiting lips. 
My tongue is strong too and with my lips and tongue I quickly restore his
hard on, until he's even bigger than before.  Balancing his two hundred
pounds doesn't tax me.  On the contrary, I feel all the more turned on now
that I can openly display my power.  The effort pumps up my muscles.  Now
my both my biceps are fully enlarged.  The thick cords of my triceps and
my forearms bulge out and he runs his hands over them, in awe I imagine,
and maybe a bit of envy too.  The effort also pumps my chest muscles so
that my breasts point straight out, like they're sitting on a shelf.  He
feels them, noting again and again where the border between my hard muscle
and my soft, sensitive breasts appears, all over, on top, the sides, and
underneath.  He is transfixed by the contrasts of my body."

        "I love his exploring fingers, but now I want his tongue too, so I
turn him around and lower him further until his head is in my lap.  He
knows what I want and while his hands feel the hard expanse of my thigh
muscles, his tongue expertly searches my labia and vagina for my clit.  Oh
joy, I think, he's found it.  The vibrations of his tongue quickly drive
me into ecstasy, while my tongue and mouth are awash in the jets of his
juices.  I feel my leg muscles tighten against his hands and it's all I
can do to keep from throwing him into the air hard against the ceiling in
celebration of this wondrous night."

The airplane was landing.  Sharon G. was breathing heavily.  She stared
into Sharon B.'s eyes, long and hard, while Sharon B.  looked vacantly
ahead, perhaps still experiencing the afterglow of her imaginary climax.

"I am stunned.  That was fantastic."

"You're really not offended?  I'm glad.  Looking at you I just couldn't
tell what kind of person you were.  You have almost an air of royalty
about you.  You seem so deep, so intense.  And you have this incredible
body."

"If you are going into the city, I would love to ride together.  I've
arranged for a limousine to meet me."

"Oh that would be great, although I'm supposed to start working the minute
I arrive."



They walked off the gateway together and met the car, the driver unable to
believe his fortune to be chauffeuring two such stunning women.  They
climbed inside.  Sharon G. closed the shades to the front and after giving
the name of Sharon B.'s office and her own hotel, turned off the
microphone.

"Tell me Sharon.  This fantasy of yours.  Is it something you would really
want?"

"Oh it's a dream."

"But if that dream could be real, would you say yes, or no?"

"I don't understand."

"Would you like to be as big, say, as me?"  Sharon rolled up her sleeve
and flexed her right arm.  Her upper arm expanded into a globe almost 23"
around.  Sharon B.'s mouth opened.  "What you've described, that is what I
am.  I could give you your fantasy, but understand that if I do, you won't
go back to your old body at the end of the story.  Would you want to live
with a body like this?  Feed it?  Clothe it?  Answer the stares you would
get wherever you go?"

"You're scaring me a little.  You're talking like this is real.  But it
was just a story."

"I like you, and I think you would be discreet.  Can I trust you with an
amazing secret?"

"Yes, absolutely yes."

"Take my hand, and roll up your sleeve.  Now, keep your eye on your right
bicep."  Sharon G. closed her eyes and thought about transferring enough
of her muscle and strength to make Sharon's bicep 23" around and three
times as strong as the arm of a normal man.  When she opened them, Sharon
B. was holding her arm out in front of her.

"How did you do that!", she shrieked.

"I can't explain how, but tell me, do you like it?"

"But what happened to you?  Look at your right arm!"  She pointed at
Sharon G.'s right arm, which was now as thin as a child's.

"Oh, never mind about me.  I can take care of myself, and I'm still quite
strong."  Sharon G. took her new friend's mammoth limb with her own, now
slender, right arm and easily twisted the large one backwards.  "Now,
enough of your questions.  Answer mine."

"I, uh, I think I like it."

"Good, let's go all the way then.  But first, take off your clothes.  I
don't want to ruin them.  Don't worry.  No one can see through the dark
glass."  Sharon B. looked out the window at the stalled traffic at the
toll booth and stuck her tongue at the bored driver of the car next to
her.  Seeing no reaction, she quickly undressed.  Sharon G. put her hand
on Sharon B.'s shoulder and instantly Sharon B.'s body was packed with
muscle and with three times the strength of a strong man, while Sharon G.
looked thin, almost sickly.

"You may have the clothes I brought, if I may take yours.  And I will send
you a check to cover your new wardrobe costs."

"But this is incredible!  Why are you doing this for me?"

"Believe me.  The money is nothing.  And the body?  Well, your story has
awakened in me new feelings.  My life has been hard, and I have had little
time for intimacy and fun.  You have shown me a way.  I have a new life,
new resources, new possibilities.  Now I can see a way to enjoy them. 
Here put on my clothes, and I'll wear yours.  They'll be little loose on
me at first, but I am a good seamstress and I can fix that.  Now, let's
switch clothes, and give me your card.  I look forward to hearing about
your meeting with your boss, and what happens later."

The car was nearing Sharon B.'s address and the women hastily switched
clothes and rearranged themselves.  Sharon G. ordered the driver to wait
at the curb for a few minutes, until Sharon B. was ready to leave.  Sharon
G. watched her friend waltz inside, oblivious to the weight of the papers
and computer she carried and then looked up at her driver, chuckling as he
stared at Sharon B. and wondered how he had thought that the brunette with
the red highlights was the muscular one.

END OF CH 5.


Sharon walked through the lobby of the Ritz.   Although she had the many
memories of the English gentleman who stayed there several times a year,
she was still amazed at the luxury, the style of the hotel, not to mention
the attention of the staff, who were struggling to carry her equipment
inside as it was unload from the limousine.  Sharon resisted the
temptation to do it herself and instead proceeded to her suite.

Once she had tipped and discharged the bellboy, she took off the raincoat,
which hid her hideously skinny arms and looked herself over carefully in
the mirror.  Her acts of generosity the past two days had certainly left
her looking odd.  She was now six feet tall with a healthy 37-22-38
figure, thanks to Clarissa and her own endowment.  She had little visible
muscle, yet she knew she was the strongest person in the world.  What a
joke on everyone.  She ordered room service, checked her financial
positions and went to sleep.

The next morning, she picked through Sharon Blest's travel clothes.  Much
too conventional, she thought, but I'm in the right place to buy something
better.  First, though, I need to settle on how I'll look.  Changing my
size every day is becoming tiresome.  I should just decide how I want to
look and stay that way.  Coming across an aerobics suit, she smiled. 
Before I shop for clothes, I'll just go down to the athletic club and shop
for a body.

The concierge directed Sharon to a nearby health club that shared its
facilities with hotel guests.  Sharon changed into her suit and toured the
gym, looking carefully at the men and women slavishly following the
tortuous instructions of a fiendishly fit blond.  Sharon let her eyes
dance down the woman's frame, noting the bulges in her arms, the flat
stomach, the thick thighs and round calves.  Her energy was endless, and
she seemed to take pleasure in outjumping the rest of the class and
pointing out the laggards, especially when they were men.  Sharon was glad
she wouldn't have to work so hard to get the shape she wanted.

She next walked through the weight room and watched a beefy man spot a
woman at the weights.  She was trying unsuccessfully to lift only forty
pounds and Sharon shook her head at how weak she was.  The woman glared at
her.  "You don't look like you could do any better.  And where'd you get
those tits and ass?  The doctor's office?"  Sharon resisted the temptation
to show off and walked away, conscious of the man's gaze.  

On the other side of the weight machine was another pair, although this
time it was a woman instructing a man how to use the weights.  She liked
the woman's body.  The curves in her chest and hips were matched by firm
round muscles in her arms and legs.  Sharon also enjoyed the spectacle of
the woman helping her client finish his lifts.  She was obviously much
stronger than he was.  The man was trying so hard to do the weights by
himself; he just wasn't strong enough and grew more and more frustrated
seeing how easily she did it.  Sharon decided to leave before she became
part of a scene.

She dressed and walked outside through the streets and the stores,
assembling ideas about the look she would adopt as her own.  Feeling
hungry, she entered a bistro and sat at the window, watching the
passersby.  The same restlessness that had started Sharon on her difficult
life was reemerging, now that the novelty of the dignified character she
had absorbed from the Englishman was ebbing.  So many different shapes and
sizes, she thought, and so limited.  My mind has grown beyond theirs.  Why
should I look like them, when I alone can be whatever I choose.  They need
to change their hair or their clothes when they want a new look.  Why
should I stay the same size, when I can be different every day if I
choose.

She turned around toward the kitchen, frustrated that her food hadn't yet
arrived.  There was no sign of the waitress.  She saw a table with two
well-dressed young couples eating their food and looking at her.  "Weren't
you taught not to stare?" Sharon asked in her haughtiest tone.  

One of the boys looked embarrassed, but his date just laughed and turned
to the others, saying "Whoever's keeping her must have sent her to diction
class!"  The others laughed loudly.  Sharon stood up, offended.  "Poor
thing.  How does she even stand up straight?"  They laughed again and
turned away from her.

Sharon walked closer, looking over the mocking girl.  She has a nice
figure.  Well, a few more inches on my bust and hips wouldn't hurt.  She
touched the girl's shoulder and felt her chest grow and her pants stretch,
then turned around and sat down.

"I think she wanted to talk to you Betsey, but then she changed her mind."

"You probably scare her."

Betsey felt odd and put her hand to her head.  Brent looked over and
exclaimed, "What's happened to you, Bets?  Your, uh."  Now whispering,
"Your tits are gone."

Betsey looked down.  Her eyes opened wide.  "What the ..."

Sharon's lunch had arrived and she was eating happily.  Hearing the
commotion next to her, she turned around again, giving the four a clear
view of her even larger chest.  "If you children cannot behave, I shall
have to ask to manager to remove you."  She turned back to her food,
neatly finishing her crepe, then rising to walk toward the ladies' room,
directly past the other table  On the way back, she saw the boys following
every vibration her body made.  She leaned over the table and whispered to
Betsey, "I think your boyfriend likes breasts.  Whatever will you do?" 
Betsey reached out to slap Sharon, but Sharon caught her hand and thought,
I'll take those well-toned stomach muscles of yours too.  Sharon looked
under the table and watched Betsey's stomach pop out.  What fun this is,
she thought.

Leaving a fifty dollar bill on the table, Sharon walked out of the
restaurant and onto Fifth Avenue.  Her enlarged attributes and tiny waist
were now stopping traffic.  Construction workers whistled.  Cabbies
honked.  Men in business suits turned their heads and stared.  Runners
turned their heads and slammed into trees.  Sharon laughed and walked more
quickly.  Stepping into Central Park, she noticed a stream of men
following her and she picked up the pace, but the motion of her hips only
attracted more attention.  So, seeing a taxi stopped at a light on the
Park Drive, she slipped inside and then sped back to the Ritz.

In her room, Sharon unpacked her computer and checked her arbitrage
positions.  She'd made two million dollars in two days.  Pleased with her
skill, she committed the rest of her funds to her strategy, then phoned
Pittsburgh.

"Esther?  How are you dear?"

"Sharon!  Where are you?"

"In New York, entertaining myself.  Listen, I'm expecting another large
influx of funds in the next few days.  Have you completed the tasks I've
given to you?"

"Yes.  It's been a little difficult, in part because it took almost four
hours to convince my firm that I was truly Esther Berk, but I've set up to
the trusts and the corporations you've specified."

"Very good.  I will begin to fund them.  Please send me copies of the
treasury acknowledgements from Panama and Liechtenstein.  I'll need them
if I am ever audited."

"Why .. yes, of course.  How do you know about that?  Are you getting help
from another firm?

"Oh no dear.  It's just something I remembered.  Are you enjoying
yourself?"

"I think so.  My children were frightened to death, but I think they'll
get used to it.  Burt runs away every time I come near.  I kind of like
that.  I got a little carried away the first night, but now that he's
learned his lesson things should go smoothly.  He's not a very good cook,
though."

"I'm sure he can learn.  It isn't much harder than the Internal Revenue
Code."

"Sharon, will I stay this big, or will I go back to my regular size?"

"Whatever you like, dear."

"Honestly, Burt would kill me if he could."

Sharon saw the message light go on.  "Well, don't give him the chance.  I
must go Esther.  I'll call."  She hung up, dialed up her voice mail and
heard Sharon Blest's voice.

"Sharon.  Oh I hope I've found you.  Please come as soon as you can.  I'm
at the Omni.  Please."

Sharon deleted the message and sighed.  So, this is what happens when you
have friends?  I had other plans.  Oh well, if I must.

She phoned her limousine, quickly restitched one of Sharon B's dresses to
fit more loosely and went downstairs.

At the Omni, she called Sharon B. from downstairs and went up to her room.
 Sharon B. looked shaken.

"What is the matter Sharon?  Did you forget to sleep?"

"I don't know what I was thinking.  You've got to help me.  Change me
back."

"What are you talking about?  What happened last night?"

"Last night.  Right.  Things were going so well.  I walked in and
practically blew away my boss with my muscles.  He tried to get close to
feel them, but I just picked him up by his foot and dangled him in the
air.  I had no idea I could be so strong.  Well, once he saw, he was all
business.  We were done in forty-five minutes.  He just about ran out of
the room, which was fine with me.  I couldn't believe it.  Now I was free
in New York, at night, with my fantasy body, your body.  I put on your
clothes - Great stuff, Sharon - and headed downtown, to one of the clubs. 
I was dancing, singing, drinking having a great time.  And then I met this
guy.  Mark."

Sharon B. closed her eyes, crying.  "Mark!  I can't believe it!"

"Just relax Sharon.  Talk to me."

"OK, OK.  Let me just breathe a minute.  Center myself.  OK.  I'm alright.
 Mark.  He's a writer too.  Works at a financial publication.  We started
dancing together.  I could tell he liked my body, and I thought, hey, why
not?  This could be fantastic.  So we left for his apartment.  Some huge
place in an old factory building.  Really neat.  The guy had imagination. 
So you remember my fantasy?  Well, you were right.  It's not like my
muscles were a surprise, but he loved them.  He was so turned on.  We
barely got off the elevator, and we were tearing our clothes off.  He
jumped on me and I carried him across the loft to his bed, up on a
platform.  We both got off on that.  He wanted to go right at it, but I
wanted to talk first.  Actually, that was great, because he would try to
push me down and I just sat there, totally in control.  I finally got him
to settle down.  We sat on that huge bed and talked for three hours.  He
told me his fantasy, of being with a woman so strong that there would be
nothing he could do to her.  He'd always had thoughts that the woman would
fight him, maybe even destroy him, but now that he'd met me, and I was so
nice, he'd realized that this was the way it really should be.  A powerful
woman, with a good heart, who loved him.  Sharon, I cried.  I thought I
had all my deepest wishes answered.  Just like that."

"Well, then we started to play.  He'd try to get away from me and I would
run after him, corner him and scoop him up in my arm and carry him back. 
I'd feel him pushing against my chest and shoulder, but it was nothing to
me.  Then I'd pin his arms to his sides and pick him up in the air,
licking his gorgeous body all over, and all up and down his cock.  He
begged me to let him come, but I made him wait and I he got more and more
turned on.  I'd never made a guy so desperate for sex with me.  I was
feeling it too, and he willingly tongued me, letting me come again and
again.  I felt so selfish, but it was great.  When I felt him getting
tired, I took pity and lowered him onto the bed.  I got on top, so he
could reach up and feel me all over while I drew him inside and maneuvered
him to just the right point.  He was so grateful; he didn't know what to
touch first, my breasts or my giant biceps, but finally he just went for
my arms, squeezing my upper arms with all the strength he had in those
adorable hands."

Sharon B. burst into tears again and sobbed for a couple of minutes, while
Sharon watched.

"It was so horrible.  He was finally about to come, and so was I.  I
yelled, 'Wait, wait!'  He was such a dear.  He stopped himself and I felt
this enormous wave that just engulfed my whole being.  I screamed and I
heard him scream too.  I was thinking, this is so-o-o perfect. I pushed
harder to get him even deeper and then noticed he'd stopped pushing.  I
opened my eyes and he had this awful expression on his face.  'Mark! 
Mark!  What is it?!' I cried.

[The next three paragraphs are not for the squeamish.]

"'I don't know.  The pain is unbelievable.  I think you crushed it.'"

"I looked down and, oh no, there was this horrible bloody pulp sticking
out of me, and nothing attached to him.  We both started screaming and
then I think he passed out.  I was frantic.  I called the hospital, 911. 
I couldn't wake him up.  Maybe the loss of blood.  I don't know.  There
was blood everywhere.  Finally an ambulance came.  They couldn't believe
it.  They wouldn't let me ride with him and called the police.  I finally
got to the hospital, and he was dead!  Oh Sharon, what am I going to do? 
What am I going to do?"

Sharon looked at her silently.  "So, you're telling me that your orgasm
was so powerful that you tore off his penis?"  Sharon B. nodded.  "I
didn't expect that.  I'm sorry."

"Sorry?  Is that all you can say?  You're not even crying.  How can you be
so unemotional.  I killed a man by coming!"

Sharon shrugged.  "I've had a hard life and seen a lot of things.  It's
hard to get worked up about one man's death.  Truly, Sharon, I am sorry. 
You have a lot to learn about your new strength.  I suppose these
fantasies don't always work out the way we plan them.  You'll know better
next time."

"Next time?  How can I ever trust myself?  There will never be a next
time.  I don't know how I could ever make love again.  I'll always see his
face."  She started crying again, and Sharon patted her head.

"Sharon, you still have your fantasy body.  He was just one man.  You can
learn to control yourself, I'm sure.  Maybe next time try it with someone
you don't like so much.  Practice with dildos.  I don't know; this was
your fantasy."

"You're so cold!  I hate you.  I just want my old body back."

Sharon looked at her steadily.  "This I can do for you.  It's probably for
the best.  Tell me, are you all cleaned up?"  Sharon B. nodded.  "OK. 
Here goes."  She put her hand on Sharon B.'s back and thought about taking
back the strength and muscle she had transferred to Sharon B. the day
before, together with all of Sharon B.'s memories of the past twenty four
hours.  Then she quickly knocked her out and left.

Going down the elevator, she replayed the scene as Sharon B. had
experienced it.  It is kind of gruesome, she thought.  I didn't realize
those muscles were so strong.


Part 7

Sharon busied herself during the next few months with preparations for her
new life in New York.  She purchased, for cash, a large estate in
Southampton on Long Island that had been on the market for years, and made
the largest order of furnishings her decorator had ever closed.  Sharon
thought that the commissions would compensate her well for the design
expertise she took from her on their last visit.  

In just two months, Sharon had increased her initial thirty million dollar
stake to over half a billion dollars.  With her arbitrage positions on the
Japanese stock market she had already lured a centuries old British
merchant bank into bankruptcy, and using margin credit, she now controlled
over ten billion dollars of treasury securities.  There were no
computerized program trading strategies, not to mention the armies of
M.B.A.s at trading desks around the world, that were a match for her 400
I.Q., her skill at manipulation, her iron nerves and her sheer
ruthlessness.  And she knew how to cover her tracks.  Only Investor's
Daily noted an odd fluctuation in the treasury yield curves and
unexplained changes in currency rates, but the currency crises in Latin
America and the political battles over budget reform quickly overshadowed
events that could have been mere technical blips in the vast daily flows
of money.  No one could trace exactly how much of that money was flowing
to just one woman.

        Sharon also recruited a staff bound to her by the utmost loyalty. 
Her personal secretary, Eloise LaMonte, had been a saleswoman at a
designer's store who impressed Sharon with her zeal to fashion clothes to
Sharon's outsized frame.  During a lunch break, Sharon learned of her
intense desire to be as lovely as the models who wore the designer's
clothes.  Pretending to have possession of magical "Venus" drugs, Sharon
gradually transformed Eloise from a five feet, five inch woman with a flat
chest and beak-like nose, to a willowy five feet, ten inch beauty, with
high cheekbones, a button nose, a classic bust and the brightest blue eyes
east of Minnesota.  Eloise's belief that her weekly dose of the gelatin
capsules Sharon gave her were necessary to keep her new appearance ensured
her continuing devotion.

        Her chauffeur, butler and handyman, Cedric Barnes, was even easier
to please.  Sharon found Cedric at a Rolls Royce dealership.  As Sharon
handed over a check for her Silver Star, the manager saw Cedric enter with
a broken nose and black eye he had received at a gay bar on Christopher
Street and quickly ushered him outside, where he handed him a final
paycheck and his pink slip.  Despite his elegant manner and perfect
diction, his slight frame, wild taste in clothes and frequent beatings at
the hands of rough men did not project the image Rolls demanded, but he
endeared himself to Sharon by pointing out a few defects in the Rolls'
engine sound as she revved it up.  Sharon quickly obtained a better car
and let Cedric drive her home.  After a few weeks of gelatin pills of a
different color, supplemented by Sharon's secret ministrations, Cedric
grew to six feet two inches and two hundred thirty pounds and became the
hit of the gay communities in New York City and East Hampton.

        Sharon replenished the muscle and height she passed on to her
servants from encounters in the crowds of New York City.  She took special
pleasure in robbing the strength of the proud and wealthy, but felt no
obligation to spare others.  One Sunday in 
Central Park, she spotted an athletic couple demonstrating their dancing
prowess on roller skates.  Something in their joy at the skill of their
art, their physical perfection and their love of themselves, and perhaps
of each other, made Sharon's blood boil.  Chatting with them casually
after watching a strenuous routine, Sharon put her hands on each of their
shoulders.  She thought in ten minutes time she would take five inches of
the man's height and most of his muscle, the woman's perfect nose and
blue-tinted eyes and then mischievously transferred to the woman one half
of the muscle Sharon would remove from the man.  Excusing herself, she sat
on a park bench and watched them resume their dancing.  As the man lifted
her in front and she leaned back gracefully, hands extended over her head,
he suddenly shrunk into a gaunt husk, while her nose and musculature
expanded radically.  The crowd gasped as they toppled over, the woman
scraping her back against the rink.  Sharon found the next moment
priceless:  the man, dragging himself up to look eye-to-eye in horror at
his now ugly partner, who now sported half his muscle tissue in addition
to her own athletic endowments.  Angry at his clumsiness and unaware of
her new strength, she slapped him, sending him hurtling across the rink
and falling into other skaters.  Then she looked down at her arms, flexed
them, and eyes wide, ran after her partner, picked him in her arms and
quickly skated away in tears.

Months passed.  The house filled with furniture, art, oriental rugs, the
kitchen with obscure delicacies known to Sharon from the life of the
English gentlemen, but new to her own tastes.  Using her growing financial
leverage, she doubled and redoubled her assets, until she possessed
greater resources than most central banks.  She whimsically increased her
size again and again, while Eloise dressed her in stunning clothes of her
own creation.  During the summer season, Sharon would stroll the beach as
a giantess over eight feet tall, followed by her loyal retinue of Eloise
and Cedric.  She drew stares from her neighbors, but found that she made
no friends in that exclusive community.  

One day, she approached a woman who had been a frequent guest of the
English gentleman at his castle in the Scottish highlands, Mrs. C.R.
VanDerveer, or "C" as she was known to her friends.

"C!  May I introduce myself?  I am Sharon Green."

Mrs. VanDerveer looked up from her book.  "Pardon me.  My name is Mrs.
Corneilous Robinson VanDerveer.  Is there something I can do for you,
Miss?"

"We're neighbors.  I thought we might get better acquainted."

"With whom did you say you were summering?"

Sharon looked down testily.  "I didn't.  I own the house next to you."

"That must be wonderful for you, dear.  I do hope you enjoy it."

"Would you like to stop by for dinner, C?  We are neighbors here."

"Now that is the second time you have called me that, Miss Green.  I find
it quite rude and familiar.  I am sure we have not been introduced.  I am
quite good with faces and I am sure I would have remembered yours."

Sharon bit her lip.  "Why, we met at Loch Hingeleigh, many years ago.  You
were with a Mr. Phipps, if I remember correctly."

Mrs. VanDerveer stared at her.  "You do your research very well, Miss, but
I am afraid I am quite sure I do not know you, nor do I care to.  Now, I
must finish my book before tea.  Will you excuse me?  Or must I retire
from the beach?"

Sharon whirled on her heel and walked away, barely resisting the
temptation to kick sand in Mrs. VanDerveer's face.

Several days later, she and Eloise were walking down the main street,
window shopping.  Sharon saw a group of young men pointing at her and
laughing from within their car, a Lotus.  She glared at them, but they
just waved and took off toward the beach, leaving the two women in a cloud
of exhaust.

"Damn kids," said an older gentleman.

"Yes, they're horribly rude sometimes, aren't they," Sharon responded.

"You must be the girl who bought the FitzWilliam house."

"Yes, I am."

"That house has a proud history.  You must be very pleased to own it."

"Oh yes, I am sir.  It's a lovely place."

"And where are you from, my girl?  I don't recall seeing you in
Southampton before."

"Pittsburgh."

"And you family?  Who were they?"

"They're the Greens.  I am Sharon Green."

"The Greens from Pittsburgh?  Never heard of them, dear."  He turned away.

"Mr. Pittsford!  Please don't go. Please talk to me."

He turned around.  "So, you know my name too.  I heard you have a good
head for names.  But you know, Miss Green, you cannot be too careful these
days.  Not a bit too careful."  He stepped into his car and drove off.

Eloise shook her fist at the car.  "The people here are so rude!  Can you
believe we've been here three months and not a single invitation."

One evening Sharon tried to reach Esther at home.  Finding the number
disconnected, she tried her office.  The night desk put her on hold for a
moment, then another lawyer from the office came on the line.

"You were looking for Mrs. Berk?  May I ask if this is business or
personal?"

"Why, both."

"Mrs. Berk is dead.  You must be out of town.  It was in the papers."

"I didn't...what happened?"

"I'm afraid I can't discuss it.  If you have a legal question, I can put
you in touch with another member of our trusts department or can arrange
to send your files to another firm if you prefer."

"No, thanks.  Not right now."

"I'm sorry.  Goodbye then."

Sharon feverishly searched for a database with a Pittsburgh newspaper
online, and read the story about the former tax lawyer, on an unexplained
leave of absence, who killed his wife, himself and his children with a
hunting rifle, leaving no note of explanation.  The article noted his
prominent career, Esther's recent surprising growth and the children's
ages, nothing more.

Sharon stared in disbelief.  She had to talk with someone, and called
Sharon Blest in Santa Monica.  It was only 10:00 p.m. there.

"Sharon?  It's me, the other Sharon.  You remember?"

"So, you finally called.  I was wondering whether you would."

"I've ... been busy.  How are you?"

She heard Sharon B. exhale sharply.  "Oh, fine, I guess.  You're lucky you
caught me.  I'm moving out in a few days."

"Oh?  Where?  Are you coming to New York?"

"I haven't a clue.  I'm being evicted.  I lost my job, which is not
surprising, since I haven't been able to write since I came back.  My
boss, he was very sympathetic.  After he got over the surprise of again
seeing me without your muscles he got pretty bold.  He told me I could
keep my job for awhile, until I got my energy back, if I just put out a
little more.  I tried, but I couldn't even fake it.  Even he lost interest
and then fired me the next week.  I can't even make myself go out to sign
up for unemployment, but I guess I'll have to soon.  I have no place to
go."

"Come here.  I have a big house, right on the beach."

Sharon B. was silent for awhile.  "No.  I don't think so.  I don't think I
could even look at you."

"Sharon.  I can tell you're depressed.  Let me at least send you some
money, help you get back on your feet.  Maybe we could talk again."

"You think I'm depressed?  You are smart.  Very smart.  I don't want your
money, or even your friendship.  Not now.  You're just too late.  You're
too late."

She hung up.

Sharon put the phone down and looked around her beautiful bed room.  So
what's the point, she thought.  What am I supposed to do now?  I can do
anything I want, but what's out there to want?

She walked out of her room and into her office, glancing at her computer
screens.  Hmph!  The peso's looking overextended.  I could sink that
currency in a couple of days, make another few billion or so when that
clown in the White House tries to bail them out again.  She angrily
flipped off the computers.  I can't even spend all the money I have now! 
I can't use the strength I have!  What would I use it for?  I can't even
use the brains I have.  No one talks to me.  They only serve me.

Sharon smiled.  Maybe that's it.  I have no equals here.  They think
they're better than I am.  I know they're wrong, but unless I do
something, they never will know.  What did I ever get from other people
anyway?  I used to serve them.  Now I'll let them serve me!

Hearing her mistress pacing around the house, Eloise ran up to her.  "Its
so late!  Is there anything I can do for you ma'am?"

"Yes, I want you to make me something flashy.  Something that will attract
a lot of attention."

"But madam, you will attract attention wherever you go.  It is not my
humble work, I assure you.  I will just take your measurements for today. 
They change so often."

Sharon shook her head and flicked her wrist, sending Eloise crashing
against the wall.

"No, no.  That's not at all what I want.  Make me something for my current
size, and then bigger, and bigger.  Five, ten, twenty times bigger."

"But madam, how exactly..."

"That's your problem.  Finish it tonight.  I'll be leaving in the
morning."  And she stalked out of the room.


Part 8

It was a hot Tuesday morning in August. Sharon rose early, saw several
large packages in the foyer and silently complimented Eloise.  She walked
into her room, put her hand on her head and gave her the other two inches
of height she had wanted so badly, leaving her a few extra gelatin tablets
for show.  Cedric had pulled the Rolls out front and was sleeping inside,
ready for her.  Sharon knocked on the window and he emerged, opened the
door for Sharon and carefully added the packages to the trunk.

"We're going to midtown Manhattan, Cedric, Rockefeller Center."  He nodded
and they drove in silence.

"Do you want the radio, ma'am?  The news report is coming on soon."

Sharon shook her head and scowled.  Cedric said nothing more.

They arrived in New York City just before nine o'clock.  In the car,
Sharon changed into the smallest outfit, a sheer, bright green,
sleeveless, flowing robe-like creation, with a trailing cape of bright
floral fabric.  The other packages were the same, only larger.  Sharon
smiled.  Eloise was a mind reader.

She walked through the crowd, casually touching the passersby, taking a
few inches of height and muscle from each as well as their vocal powers. 
Soon she was over twelve feet tall and the dress began to ride up to her
hip.  Attracting stares, she broke open the package of the next largest
dress, slipped it over her head and flexed her muscles to burst the one
she had been wearing, letting it fall to be trampled under her feet.

Raising her arms above her head, she spoke in a voice loud enough to
penetrate the traffic and the solid glass walls of the surrounding
buildings.  "You have heard the tales of the Greek and Roman gods,
superior beings who visited mortals for enjoyment.  I have lived among you
quietly, but now I seek your worship, your obedience and your sacrifices. 
If you serve me, then in return, I can give you gifts, freely out of my
own heart, but to those who defy me I shall take from you your strength,
your power, your life.  Who will be my first subject?"

Sharon looked around her.  She saw thousands of faces lining the windows
of the buildings around the square, hundreds more looking up to her above
the crowds on the street.  Seeing a tall, well-built man, she lifted him
up in her hands and held him above the crowd.  "What about you, little
man?  Will you serve the Goddess Green?"  

He struggled to get free, but her iron arms pinned his.  Shaking his head
he said, "Let me go!  I am a free man.  I serve no one!"

Sharon smiled.  "Yes, you may go free, but you shall serve me
nevertheless."  In a moment's time, Sharon took half of his size and
muscle.  The crowd gasped as they saw Sharon grow and the man stumble
haltingly, tripping over his clothes.

Looking around, she saw two sisters, stunningly blond, and lifted each,
one in each hand.  "And what do you say, my little darlings?  Will you
serve the Goddess Green?"  Terrified, they both screamed.  "Is that a yes
or no?"  One of the women shook her head and then the other did the same. 
"Such a shame.  But your hair and your lovely breasts will make a fine
offering."  Immediately, the women were bald and flat-chested, and Sharon
possessed a glowing mane of long blond hair, while her breasts again
matched her growing frame.

Cocking her more sensitive ears, Sharon reached into the crowd and pulled
out another man, this one with a tattered jacket and wild hair.  He shook
his fist at her, shouting, "Jesus will punish you for your idolatry!"

"Oh, yes," she cooed, holding him high above the crowd.  "I've been
waiting for this.  Call down your god's wrath on me.  Tell him to make his
will manifest in the world and to smite into nothingness the one who is
evil!"

"Yes, Lord.  Do as she says.  Make your righteous will known to all of
us!"

Sharon laughed.  Suddenly, the man disappeared, absorbed whole into her,
and once again Sharon grew, although she looked pained and confused
momentarily and held her hands to her head.  Shaking it, she reached down
and opened the third package, donning the dress, which covered her like a
tent.  "It seems I have been blessed, and I will tell you all, that he who
is not with me, is against me!  Who is with me?"

The crowd was silent with fear and backed away from Sharon, so she
stretched out her arms and brought six men in business suits in close to
her legs.  They barely reached her knees.  "Will you serve me, little men,
as you serve your worldly masters now, your Presidents, your Vice
Presidents, your Boards of Directors.  No?  Then begone."  The men
disappeared, and Sharon gained another nine feet of height and a thousand
pounds of mass.  She now stood thirty feet high, but her body seemed to
lose its feminine shape and now looked blocky.  Her dress and cape rippled
in the wind as she looked out vacantly over the crowd and into the windows
of the surrounding buildings.

Sirens roared and a phalanx of police cars drove up.  "Back away from the
crowd miss.  You're under arrest!"

"What is this?  Is it the army?"  She lifted her bare feet, each of which
was as long as a tall man and stepped hard on the police cars, crushing
them with the force of her powerful legs.   "It's a shame to waste food
like that.  Next time I should be more careful."  Seeing one police
officer crawl out of the crushed car, she picked him up with two fingers,
each more than two feet in length, and pinned his arms at his sides. He
strained to reach the gun at his waist, but she pulled it out with her
other thumb and forefinger and crushed it between them.  "You know, I
couldn't let someone so small play with such a dangerous weapon."  She
cocked her ears.  "Helicopters?  Maybe I need some more size."  Looking
down at the cop, "I'm sorry we couldn't play, but I have some work to do."
 He disappeared, his clothes dropping to the ground, and Sharon stepped
forward and spread her palm on top of the crowd, quickly absorbing the
mass, strength, intelligence, senses, and life force of tens of people. 
Growing rapidly now, she reached one hundred, then two hundred feet in
height, bursting her dress.  She now stood naked and looked around
blankly, eyes darting wildly.

Her voice sounded almost garbled, her facial expressions uncontrolled. 
"Will you continue to challenge me?  I seek your service, not your death!"
 

Three helicopters now hovered next to the General Electric building.  What
was left of the crowd now panicked and ran toward Fifth Avenue, leaving
Sharon alone to face them.  Rockets shot out of the airships and exploded
around Sharon, blinding her, then one hit her arm, leaving a gaping wound.
 Sharon cried out, then using her other fist, knocked out a window and
grabbed a room of people in her hand.  They disappeared, and the wound
healed, but Sharon looked lost.

"Who am I?  What am I doing here?"

Another missile shot forward. Sharon tried to block it with her arms, but
she moved clumsily and it struck her chest.  She toppled to the ground,
moaning loudly.  "Who hit me?  Why am I fighting?  Who am I?"

The helicopters hovered overhead.  A woman walked out of the crowd and
approached Sharon, stepping carefully around the river of blood flowing
from her chest.

A loudspeaker blared from above.  "Back away miss.  She's dangerous!"

The woman ignored them.  She climbed onto Sharon's enormous hand and with
a sharp knife removed several small green disks.  "You were doing so well
too, until today.  Of course, we couldn't explain to you that the
wholesale absorption of the body mass of an individual would overwhelm the
integrative capabilities of the disks.  You've incorporated too many
persons, too many different bodies into yourself to manage, even with that
fine mind you've assembled. I'm sorry my dear, but I cannot even find you
in that jumble of minds to say farewell, and thank you.  You have taught
us a great deal, and we will always be in your debt.  How sad, though,
that you never sought to learn how to be happy."

She waved her hand and Sharon closed her eyes, dead.