Swinging
by Marknew  



Would you like to swing on a star?
Carry moonbeams home in a jar?
And be better off than you are?
Or would you rather be a ....

Torvald sighed in contentment. Last night he had played the greatest football
game of his life and this morning he was a Super Bowl champion, a hero, the
star of the game, having scored three touchdowns and owning the record for the
most rushing yards in a Super Bowl game. He felt his large biceps and massaged
the muscle where he'd been hit last night. He was sore, but it was sure worth
it. It would take a few days before he would be able to move without pain, but
the lineman had a bigger shock when he'd swung him to the ground on his way to
the last touchdown. One-handed too! He loved his strength, his power, and what
it had done for him. And now he'd be able to write his own ticket. If the club
didn't give it to him in salary, then it would be endorsements. And, either
way, women. Lots and lots and lots of women.

He went down to the hotel lobby. Immediately the hotel staff surrounded him,
pumping his hand, clearing the way for him to the restaurant and keeping other
fans away from him. He grinned, told them he could take care of himself,
signed a few autographs and then started on his first portion of eggs and
bacon. He didn't feel too hungry. Three full servings should do it today.

He looked up after he had finished half his plate. They were all looking at
him. Men, women. Boys and girls. Well, of course they were. How many 6'8" 340
pound football stars were they going see in their lives?

A tall, buxom blond came by his table and leaned over his food, showing off
her 38-DD breasts. She looked about twenty and rolled her tongue around her
lips. Twice.

"You're Torvald JOHANSON, aren't you?" she asked, her voice so low and sexy
that it gave Torvald chills. He nodded and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Man, she was built! And wearing just a tube of cloth around her breasts he
could see everything! Is this what he had to look forward to for the rest of
his life? She leaned closer. "My name is Sharon. I saw you giving autographs
before, but I left my program up in my room. Maybe when you finish your
breakfast you can help me look for it. What do you say?" She shifted her
shoulders and let her huge breasts swing back and forth in front of his eyes.
She narrowed her eyes. "And anything you see in my room that you like, well,
you can have it!"

He was about to pull her onto his lap and tell her yes when he noticed another
girl standing just a few feet away, looking at him intently. She had rich
black hair, a small upturned nose, a few light freckles on her cheeks and very
intelligent eyes. At first Torvald thought she was sitting down, but then,
looking further down, he realized she was just very small. She wore a purple
short-sleeved t-shirt and a red miniskirt and obviously wanted to talk to him
too, but she stood back as though she were intimidated, both by him, he
assumed, and by Sharon. He cast his eyes down her body. She had small "A-cup"
breasts and no bra, so that her nipples were clearly visible through her
shirt, and she coolly pulled her shirt down more tightly showing her pert
little bumps of breasts even more clearly. She smiled mysteriously and crossed
her thin arms in front of her. She held a thick, well-worn paperback book in
one of her toy-like hands.

Sharon followed Torvald's gaze to the smaller girl and laughed. She stepped
backwards to stand beside her, the smaller girl's head just below Sharon's
jutting breasts, which bobbed with each breath she took. "I think this LITTLE
baby wants your autograph too. Hey, honey, did you bring your MOMMY'S book for
Torvy here to sign?"

"I am Cjersti," she said in a melodious, foreign accent. "I also like
Torvald's football playing. And his body. I can do things with his body that
you or he could not even imagine." She smiled, revealing only a little of her
white teeth, as bright as any Torvald had seen. She looked up at Sharon. "But
one thing I do not need is his autograph, I am sure." She looked back at
Torvald, her green eyes beckoning him.

"She doesn't LOOK very chesty to me," Sharon said, sidling back to Torvald's
table.

But Cjersti's eyes held him. She took a breath and put her hands on her
slender hips. "You could lift me as though I weighed nothing. You could swing
me so fast! We should try. Around and around. Yes?"

Why did little Cjersti interest him? He glanced at Sharon's breasts, her
golden blond hair, her solid build. What a session they could have. But he'd
had a hundred girls like Sharon. Well, maybe not as well-built as she was, but
he knew the type. But he hadn't met any like Cjersti.

Cjersti gave a little nod of her head. She knew already that she'd won. "You
would like to eat more? You will need your strength for me," she said, her
face crinkled slightly with amusement. She went to the buffet to fill another
plate just like the one Torvald was eating.

"The--the NERVE of that girl. That Chertsy!" Sharon sputtered. "Now, Torvy,"
she said sitting on his lap, "when you're finished eating -- hey!"

Torvald had put his hands on her hips and lifted her off him, holding her in
the air easily until her feet re-established themselves on the floor. "Uh,
thanks Sharon. Another time, maybe. I'm uh, going to finish my breakfast and
then I have some other plans this morning." He ate his eggs and Cjersti, who
had glided next to him on the other side of the table from Sharon, smoothly
lifted his old plate and slid the newly filled one in front, the scrambled
eggs piled high, puffy like a Springtime cumulus cloud, with sprigs of parsley
scattered around it, and three red, round tomatoes in a triangle on the
plate's edges, making a green and red pattern. It looked so pretty Torvald
felt it was almost a shame to eat it, but Cjersti urged him on and he dug into
it, enjoying it all the more for the satisfaction she seemed to take in each
bite he took.

Sharon looked completely shocked. Flabbergasted. Unable to move. She glared
down at Cjersti as if she wanted to lift her in the air and throw her fifteen
feet into the buffet. And Sharon was big enough that she probably could have.
Cjersti could have done nothing to defend herself. Her arms were so slender,
so soft, that it appeared as though lifting much more than the hefty plate of
eggs she'd given Torvald would tax her strength, while Sharon, without being
in any way a jock, looked as strong as a bull, her arms twice as thick as
little Cjersti's. But Torvald saw the look Sharon was giving Cjersti and his
thick arm extended outwards between the two girls. His powerful, masculine
muscle seemed to have been born in an entirely different universe from Sharon
and Cjersti and was an impermeable shield neither could hope to contest.
Sharon gave him a mournful look and slunk away.

Even though Torvald was seated, Cjersti's head was only slightly higher than
Torvald's as she stood and watched him finish the plate of eggs. She was about
to get him another when he stopped her with a glance. "I've had enough. But
don't you want to eat too?" he asked. She shook her head. "Well. OK then." He
stood up. And now he saw how very, very small she was. Her head didn't even
reach his chest and his body was so much broader than hers that it seemed as
though four of her could fit inside him. Perhaps so. For a moment he wondered
whether he'd made a mistake. How could a girl so small satisfy him? Wouldn't
he break her? But she looked up at him, smiled her dazzling smile and ran her
hands down his massive arm, pausing to cup his biceps. Her light touch sent
chills down his spine and he quickly became erect. She knew that right away,
looking down at his crotch and then back up at his eyes and smiled again. Her
hand continued around his shoulder and then down his chest, fingering his
large pectoral muscles and then massaging his mighty abdominals. "You are
beautiful," she said softly, as her hand settled into his. She let him lead
her upstairs to his room. He thought: Well, she certainly seems to know what
she's getting into. And I'm not going to be the one to stop her.

As he opened the door he realized his room was a complete pigsty and held back
a moment, but she walked right past him. She looked around, shrugged, and then
began picking up the clothes on his floor, neatly folding the dirty shorts and
shirt and piling them on a shelf in his closet, tossing the bags of chips into
the waste basket and then carrying the beer bottles and glasses into his
bathroom. It was amazing how quickly and quietly she finished. She looked at
the unmade bed and leaned down to smell it, then, apparently satisfied, pulled
the sheets tight again, then went to the window and closed the curtains. Only
then did she look back at Torvald. "Your room is very nice. So big. Will you
excuse me a minute?" Torvald nodded, amazed, as she went into the bathroom and
closed the door. She had left her book on the table by the door, and Torvald
looked at it. It was so thick he had assumed it was one of those huge romance
novels women liked to read, but no, it was some kind of religious book.
"Gateways to Other Futures" it was called. He opened it, and his eyes quickly
glazed over. It was impenetrable nonsense. "For then the maharti will be
enmeshed in oneness, until the majenti is called to the fore, and the soul can
then pass to the level of ymassu, and even mihassu if the soul heeds the call
of the shunnu." He looked up and she was looking at him, her arms crossed in
front of her chest. She was completely naked, except for a strip of purple
cloth around her calf.

"It is not easy reading. You cannot start with that book." Embarrassed, he put
it down. "Oh, please, I do not mind, but ...." she shrugged. "I would not
think you would have an interest. Not just now."

"Well, actually no. I thought it ... was a different kind of book," he said
awkwardly.

She smiled again. "Of course." She walked closer to him. "Maharti, mikali,
migrati," she said, her eyes closed. "It is a little prayer I say. You don't
mind?"

"No, of course not. I pray too, before each game," he said. "I can respect
different religions, I mean, we all pray to the same god."

She took a deep breath, exhaled and then another deep breath. It was almost
comical, the way even her expanded chest was so small. She made him feel like
a giant and he liked the feeling. Almost as though she made him twice as tall
and strong as he already was. She reached out to his pants and with one hand
undid the button and then the zipper. He started to pull them down, but she
shook her head. "Let me, please," she said softly, and with her fingers inside
the waistband at each hip slipped them down to his ankles. She knelt down to
untie his shoes and then pulled them off, with more than a bit of a struggle.
"They are a bit tight," she said, breathing a little hard with the exertion.
He lifted each leg so that she could pull the pants off him completely.

"It's hard for me to get shoes that fit," he explained.

She stood back up. "Yes, you are so very, very large. Even for a man."

"And you are quite small," he replied, smiling, "even for a woman."

She stood closer to him and again touched him, this time with her palm under
his shirt. "These muscles are so strong. And you do not use the drugs, I can
tell. They are pure, with the essence of you. Your strength fills me with
thrill." She was breathing hard. Her hand slid down to his crotch and she held
his manhood fully erect, throbbing. Somehow she knew just the right way to
hold him, not too loosely, not too tight, but changing the pressure slightly
with each moment. "I feel the beat of your heart through this, the thrust of
your soul, wanting me."

"Uh, yes Cjertsi."

"Cjersti," she corrected him. "Pronounced like Chair-stee ... almost. But with
other sounds too," she added. "I am ready for you."

"But, uh, Cjersti, aren't I too big? I mean, I don't want to ... hurt you."

"You are kind, Torvald, and I will be kind too, to you. I can take all of you.
All of you," she repeated, the hand on his manhood pulling him gently toward
the bed while her other hand danced again along his biceps. "I would like you
to make it big, for me?" He flexed it, proudly. "It is beautiful, you know. It
is so much muscle for one person. So strong."

"Our bodies are so different, Cjersti," he said, kneeling on the bed in front
of her.

"I am so small and not at all strong, but beautiful too, in my way?" Torvald
nodded. "There is beauty and goodness too in smallness, I hope you will see."

"Oh yes," Torvald agreed, touching her small breasts. With one hand he could
nearly hold both her breasts, which were smaller than the pectoral muscles on
his chest. Still, they were perfectly formed, and she shivered at his touch.
Her waist was tiny, but her shape was just right and her skin was so soft. She
smelled like a flower and her laughter was a song. He loved the way she shook
with pleasure wherever he touched her. And then he smelled her arousal, and it
was like no woman he had smelled. Not the flower, not the sea, but life
itself. She sat on top of him and slowly eased his large tool inside her.
Amazingly he fit, but oh so tightly. And she didn't seem to be in any pain.
Her face in fact shone in ecstasy, almost a religious joy and fervor at the
joining of their two bodies. At first he thrust gently, afraid of hurting her,
but as she clenched him more and more tightly and as her moans became louder
and more insistent his inhibition faded and he pushed deep inside her. Her
tiny hands clutched at his neck, her fingers sending shivers through him down
to the tip of his manhood. Finally, with a high pitched scream from her and a
satisfied grunt from him, they both came, Torvald pushing her high off the bed
while she wrapped her legs around him, sobbing with joy. She leaned on his
chest, the tears wetting him and then she straightened and blinked them away,
but still nestled against him. They lay there, spent and happy for several
minutes.

"I am sorry. I embarrass myself and you. You have a lot of girls Torvald, I am
sure. But you don't mind, do you? For me to be against you? To feel the
strength of a man such as you for a little longer?"

He was touched by her directness, and her acknowledgement that this was not a
long term thing. Women always made more of sex than they should. He was sure
Sharon would have clung to him as long as possible, presuming a relationship
when none existed. Cjersti seemed to take things as they were. And he liked
her for that.

"Of course. You really are an unusual girl. You're not from around here,
obviously. Are you here for long?"

"Not here so much longer, I think." She clenched him once more and then
shifted her position slightly so that he fell out of her. She ran her hand
down his arm and then his chest once again and sighed. "Would you do one thing
for me, Torvald? It is a silly thing, I know. But it is a thrill for me if you
would."

Torvald smiled. What was it she wanted? An autograph? A piece of his clothing?
Whatever it was, for a fuck that good she deserved it. "Sure Cjersti.
Anything."

"Will you swing me? You know, like a child. I am so small it would be easy for
you, and your room is big enough to do it right here."

He stared at her in surprise. "Swing you?"

"Yes, swing me around and around. As fast as you can. You hold me by my hands,
or maybe my wrists if you like. You can do it? You are not too tired?"

"Hey, sure. If that's what you want. No problem."

"Good! You won't drop me, right?"

"Of course not!"

She beamed with happiness. She eased off him and when he stood up she smoothed
the sheets, then stood by the side of the bed. "Assenti, majenti,
correspondi," she said. "It is another little prayer." Torvald shrugged. She
was a strange one, for sure, but he liked her. He looked around and moved a
table out of the way and satisfied himself that she wouldn't crash into
anything else. "You are a kind man, so considerate," she said. "I will
remember that, I promise."

So she would remember him. It was no more than a one night stand for her too.
He could feel a little offended by that, he guessed, but he didn't. What was
fair was fair. He had things to do later too. It was all for the best.

He took her hands and turned quickly, and immediately her feet here in the
air. Her mouth opened in delight. "Whee!" she cried out like a child. He
laughed. What a girl! Yes, it was a one-night stand -- a one-morning stand
actually -- but he actually wouldn't have minded seeing her again, as strange
as she was, and as odd looking a pair as they were together. He turned faster,
then faster again. She extended her arms, and now they were swinging quickly
enough that she was nearly extended flat out, the purple cloth pushed down to
her ankle. She was so light, and she laughed just like a child. "Enterando,
suparbo, mando, versando!" she cried out. "Enterando, suparbo, feminando,
revando! Mando feminando feminando mando! Wheeeeee!"

She liked it, and her pleasure made him happy. He swung her even faster,
although the swinging was making him dizzy. He himself felt the room twirling
around, like he was swinging himself. He heard her laughing, a deeper
laughter, then the high one again. He must have gone on too long. He was
getting very dizzy. He had to slow down, stop, before they got hurt. But each
time he slowed down they seemed to speed up again. He looked at her, seeing
her green eyes stare back at him, the green eyes looking up at him with
excitement and delight, then down at him, then up at him again, then down at
him. What a strange feeling! How could she be looking down? He was beginning
to feel frightened, like he was losing control. He had to stop but he couldn't
stop. Now he was swinging so fast, swinging around like his Uncle Max had
swung him when he was only three years old and he had screamed out in his own
excitement. But no, it was not Uncle Max swinging him, he was swinging her,
Cjersti, the girl. It was a hallucination from the speed, a strange
hallucination, that she was swinging him.

Wasn't it?

"Correspondi, majenti, assenti," he heard her say, but her voice was deeper,
and she held his wrists so tightly as she swung him that it hurt. Wait! He
looked down at her, then up at her again. Who was swinging whom? The room kept
shifting. His feet were flying high in the air, as if he weighed nothing. They
slowed down and stopped. She put him down gently on the floor and sat on the
bed.

"I am dizzy, so dizzy," she said and closed her eyes. "The room still spins."
She was breathing hard. "The swinging is real exercise! Even if you are
strong."

He knew he hadn't imagined that he was the one swinging them. He was still
breathing heavily. He staggered, off balance, looking around the room in
horror. Everything looked so large. The dresser, the bed, the table, the
doors.

Cjersti. .... Cjersti!

She sat on the bed and he was standing, but even so her head was nearly as
high as his. And her body, it was like his. No. That wasn't it. Hers was a
woman's body, and his was a man's, with a big dick and hair on his chest, and
an adam's apple and, even at 11:30 in the morning, a chin that was no longer
smooth, but the rest of his body had the appearance of a young boy's, with
smooth soft arms, narrow shoulders and short legs. And Cjersti! Her breasts
were large, though still just as pert and high on her chest, but they were now
supported by masses of pectoral muscle. Even more frightening -- HER arms had
the muscle that should be his. Her legs were so thick, they were the legs that
pushed him through the scrimmage line and bounced off tackles. But there was
the purple cloth tied around the muscular calf, the smooth, hairless grace of
a woman's leg, the purple painted toenails, and the delicately upturned foot.

She looked over to him, her voice full of sympathy. "Torvald. You dear, dear,
Torvald." She met his eyes, and started to reach out for him but then she
looked down at her extended arm, the biceps muscle bursting, dancing higher as
she moved it. "It is beautiful muscle, no?" she said, distracted. She flexed
it, marveling at how it puffed up, and felt it with her long fingers, the
nails painted deep purple with little stars. "So large. So very, very hard. A
wonderful thing of mine." She leaned over and kissed it.

"What's happened to us?! This is all wrong!" he cried out. "I'm tiny! A
pipsqueak!"

"No, Torvald. You are a big man. And still so very beautiful. Do you not see?"

"I see myself as a fucking weakling! What did you do to me?" He hurled himself
angrily at her and she stopped him, and, with an evident mix of pleasure and
some embarrassment, held his thin wrists with no effort at all.

"I have strength like a mountain. It is a wonder!" She leaned down to
Torvald's chest and rested her face against it. "And still you have the smell
of Torvald, the smell of a very masculine man." She lowered her head, kissing
his chest and then continuing to kiss him all the way down to his manhood and
took him into her mouth, caressing him with her tongue and making his tool
come to life again, all the while effortlessly immobilizing his wrists with
just one hand. She turned her head up to face him. "You have a lovely long
penis Torvald. It will fill me still. Do you like to?" Torvald twisted and
struggled with no effect. She straightened up. "Torvald," she said
sympathetically. "Now you are not the strong one. Can you not see? Do you not
understand this? You cannot push a woman." She put her arm side by side with
his, flexing her great muscle so that it bulged and hardened against his thin
biceps, the soaring curves of her muscle extending both above and below his.
"See, your muscle is just small, not hard or strong like mine. If there is
something you want or do not want, you must say. You cannot just take. You
have not enough strength."

"I want my body!" he cried.

"But you have your body, and I mine."

"No, my old body, my muscles."

She raised and lowered her head. "I understand. No. You see, we are in
different universe now, by correspondence, of male to female, of you to me,
and the reversal by swinging. To go back you must learn to swing and find a
girl to swing you. The right girl. If you want I will give you my book. It
tells how. But much clearer in the Swedish."

"Help me," he begged.

She shook her head. "I cannot. Not unless I go there too. But I have worked
hard to be here. If you want to leave you must work too. You should learn
Swedish. The book is easier in Swedish. And you will find the girls pretty
there. Very large and pretty. They will like you, such a big man!"

"I am NOT big! I am pathetic!" he said in disgust, trying again with all his
power to break her hold. His little muscles barely twitched for all his
effort, and the strength of both his arms could not overcome even the grasp of
her hand.

"No, dear Torvald. You will see. For a man here you are big, just as before.
Most are much smaller and weaker than you. This is why you are so rich, so
important here. You will be very much desired, for the strength a man like you
would give to the children of the woman. And for a woman, I am still small.
Small yes, but I feel big now. I am so much bigger than a man. That will be
fun for me." She leaned her head down against Torvald's soft upper arm. "You
will be popular here, much admired. But if you do not want me then I must go.
I would not force you to be with me. I will respect you for your kindness."

She looked at him sadly and stood up, letting him go. He looked up at her body
with awe. He had to crane his head to see her face. Her chest powered outwards
from her broad shoulders and although her waist tapered from the sides, the
thick muscle continued down her abdomen and then erupted again in her thighs
and calves. When he looked at her, it was as though he saw waves of power
emanating from her muscle. And he felt so insubstantial, as if she could blow
him down with a gust of air from her mighty chest.

She put on her clothing, the same purple tee shirt and red miniskirt, but
larger. And his clothes were smaller, fitting him perfectly. "Goodbye Torvald.
I am sorry it was you," she said as she slipped out of his room. The door
swung shut.

Torvald put his head in his hands. What was he going to do? His football
career was over. Here it could never have begun. How would he live? How could
he stand to live? He sank into a chair, burying his head in his hands.

There was a sharp knock. He didn't want to answer, but the knock came again.
"Who is it?" he said quietly.

"It's Sharon! That little bitch Chesty is gone, isn't she? Let me in, please."

"Go away! I don't want to see anyone."

"Torvy! Please let me in. Please! I want to see you so badly. Just this once."

Torvald stood up. "Oh, all right." He walked to the door, which towered above
him, and opened it. "Just so that you ...." He stopped speaking and stared up
at Sharon -- up and up, his mouth agape.

She knelt down, but still looked down at him. "Oh Torvy! I just had to come up
to tell you: no hard feelings about this morning. I knew that little bitch
only wanted one thing from you! And now that she's left, if she hasn't taken
EVERYTHING out of you -- and I'm sure a big, strong man like you would have
LOTS more good stuff for ME -- then I can have you too! I mean, IF you don't
mind!" She was wearing the same cloth around her breasts as when Torvald had
last seen her at breakfast but on a seven and a half foot tall woman with a
50" chest the effect was completely overwhelming. All Torvald could do was
stare. Sharon giggled and pulled the cloth down, right in the hallway, letting
Torvald stare at her liberated breasts, her enormous, round and firm liberated
breasts.

"Um, yeah, sure," he said, almost drooling at the sight.

"Well, okay then!" she said, very pleased. She walked inside and shut the
door, pulling a large bolt shut with her index finger. She walked to the bed
and felt it with her hand, shook her head and pulled off the sheets, then
opened a drawer and pulled fresh ones out, making the bed again in no time at
all. Then she stood up and put her hands on her hips. "Well? What are you
doing all the way over there?"

Torvald almost fell over. She was so much bigger than he was. It was
frightening. She lifted a forefinger that was nearly six inches long and
curled it, motioning Torvald to come over to her.

Something told Torvald this wasn't a good idea. He backed against the door and
tried to open the bolt she had thrown but even using both hands he couldn't
budge it.

"Torvy, what do you think you're DOING? That's the FEMBOLT! You can't open it.
Not even with ALL your CUTE little muscles. You're mine now, all mine." She
winked and put her finger in her mouth. "You KNOW we'll have so much fun
together."

"Yeah, um, well I'm not sure I --

She laughed. "Well, it's a little late now, isn't it? I mean, you let me in."

Torvald looked at her, alarmed. "But you said, uh, you said if I don't mind. I
mean, I'm not sure if --

"Not SURE?" Sharon shook her head. "Oh MY! Well, Torvald. What ARE you going
to do?" She crossed her powerful arms in front of her chest, her muscles
bulging. "I mean, here I am; here you are. A woman and a man together in a
hotel room. What will people say?" Torvald shrugged. "They'll SAY that we had
sex. They'll SAY that I regained my honor. And they'll SAY that Sharon Musk
gets her man. You embarrassed me downstairs in front of everyone, taking that
little child-girl over me. I'm NOT leaving now." She took two steps toward
him, crossing the room.

Since he was 15 Torvald had always been just about the biggest person around,
except for a few other football players. But with each step Sharon seemed more
and more massive. He eyed her arms, which incredibly were twice the size of
Cjersti's, twice the size his had been. She could snap him like a twig.

She stood next to him now, her long, thick arm crossing his back from his
shoulder down to his ass. She cupped the soft flesh there, pulled him against
her hard, muscular body and exclaimed, "Awww, Torvy. You were SO adorable in
the Super Bowl. We ladies all love to see you men play your little games. And
YOU were the BEST of all of them! I LOVE a man who can push other MEN around.
Aren't you PROUD to be SUCH a big man?!" She towered over him and again
removed the cloth around her breasts. They sprang outwards, each of them
larger than Torvald's little head. They were so large, so perfect. He was
completely hard already. She picked him up and carried him to the bed and
knelt over him, dangling her breasts above his face. "Come on, Torvald, take
one in your mouth and suck. I'm all ready for you." He just lay there,
petrified with fear. "Hey, I never EXPECTED that a man like you would be shy!"

"I'm not shy!" Torvald insisted. "I just don't WANT to make love to you right
now," he said, turning his head.

She smiled at him, shifting her chest from side to side, showing off her
enormous bust. "Oh? That's ok. Neither do I."

Torvald breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes, well then ...."

She hadn't moved. "So, Torvy, what I want to know is what WERE you doing with
that little girl anyway? That kind of girl was just a waste of time, a waste
of your precious strength! You were a real BIG man downstairs, weren't you,
letting that Chesty girl feed you, showing everybody YOU had a CHOICE." She
lay her breast across his cheek then on his lips. With her thumb and
forefingers on his chin she turned his head back to her and with one more
finger she covered his nostrils, forcing his mouth open to breathe, with the
last two she pressed on his neck. Pain shot through his body and he squirmed
under her, trapped between her legs. He grabbed her hand and tried to pull it
off his face but she just looked at him and laughed. "What do you think --
you're still playing football with the MEN, Torvy?" she said roughly. She
looked at him with disdain and brought her arm up slowly. "Did you forget
about the DIFFERENCE between WOMEN and men?" she said in a low, quiet voice,
and slowly flexed her biceps, smugly watching the expression on his face as he
stared in amazement at the growing ball of muscle on her arm, bunching up,
gathering height and finally exploding in size, sitting proudly on her arm in
all its splendor. "Ooooh, look at that! I bet THAT muscle is REALLY strong,
huh? What're you gonna do now, Torvy? Got any ideas left? Guess it might've
been a little mistake to let me in, huh? You ever hear of the fury of a woman
scorned? I think you're about to see it."

"Please, Sharon," he pleaded. "Don't hurt me. You don't want this on your
record, do you?"

She winked. "Oh, don't you worry about me. It'll be just another death by
rough sex, Torvy. What are you, twenty-seven? You've had a long life. You guys
all go this way sooner or later. Mostly sooner. There'll be another Super Bowl
next year. Another hero." Her hand slipped down to Torvald's throat. He
clutched at her hand with both of his, but her fingers were so much longer and
stronger than his.

"Wait! Before you kill me, can I have one thing? One last request?"

She smiled. "A last request? How romantic! What is it? Do you want me to kill
you as you cum? I've never done THAT before." Her nipples stiffened as she
thought about it.

"N-n-no. Would you ... would you swing me?"

She looked at him strangely. "Swing you? Whatever do you mean?"

"Um, swing me around, you know, in a circle. Round and round, as fast as you
can. It's, uh, always been a thrill of mine. Just for a couple of minutes.
Then you can let go, kill me that way, if you want."

She looked down at him. "You know, Torvy. I guess I underestimated you. You're
a kinky guy, huh? Yeah, if that's what you want, sure. Sounds fun, different."

"Just a couple of minutes ok? Before you let me go and crash me against the
wall?" He hoped he would know what he was doing. Cjersti's book sat on the
table, but it was useless to him now.

She shrugged. "Two minutes? Five minutes? I don't care." She grabbed his
wrists and yanked him out of bed.

"Assenti, majenti, correspondi," he said.

"What's that?" Sharon said.

"Just a prayer," Torvard replied.

"Oh, so you're a Catholic," Sharon reasoned. "Well, it's a good time for you
to say prayers, if that's what you believe in."

She started turning and very quickly Torvald flew into the air. They were
whirling with great speed. It was thrilling. He could feel the strength of
Sharon's arms. He wanted to cry out in excitement as Cjersti had, but he
didn't dare. He had little time, and he didn't want Sharon to think he was
enjoying it too much. "Enterando, supermando, versando!" he cried out.
"Enterando, supermando, feminando, revando! Mando feminando feminando mando!"
he yelled, hoping he had remembered Cjersti's words and that they would work
for him too. Now he could only wait to see. He felt strange. The room was
shifting. A thrill bubbled up inside him. Had he done it? He allowed himself a
yell of excitement. "Whee!" he cried out. "Whee!" For a moment he was the one
doing the swinging, looking down at Sharon, and then he was looking up at her
again. He could see her puzzled, almost frightened expression. "Whee!" he
allowed himself again, then as he was looking down at her he said,
"Correspondi, majenti, assenti," he said with a voice even deeper than his
original one. They spun on. It felt as though she weighed nothing at all in
his arms, like she was flying, and he slowly brought them to a stop. He had
done it. It had worked!! He put her down gently on the carpeted floow. She was
Cjersti's size now, and he was even larger than he'd been before. They must
have moved to a different universe than where he had started, but that was OK.
She had assumed his size -- Cjersti's size -- and he hers. His muscles were
enormous now. What strength he had! It was even BETTER than before.

"I did it!!" he cried out. "I've got my body back!"

Sharon was barely five feet tall, still very busty, but now with thin arms
that had barely a hint of muscle. She looked down at herself in shock and then
up at Torvald in complete fury. "You, you tricked me!! You did THIS to ME!!"
she yelled, her face twisted in anger. Even though she was small, her
emotion-filled voice filled the room.

Torvald put up his hands. "Calm down, calm down, Sharon. I'm sorry, I really
am, but you were going to kill me. I wanted my body back. I didn't want to do
this to you, but I couldn't let you end my own life."

"I'm so small, so pitiful. Look at these arms," she moaned, holding them up
and then turning them from side to side, searching in vain for her muscle.

His strength restored, Torvald regarded her majestically, and triumphantly. He
wouldn't use his great strength against her. No, he had been raised to respect
women and would never think, now, of physically harming or even threatening
Sharon, even though she had intended to kill him. Maybe her own behavior was a
result of her own upbringing in that other universe. She would have a hard
time adjusting to this one, to be sure, but she would still be an attractive
-- no, VERY attractive -- woman. She would do just fine, Torvald reassured
himself. But she still needed to be put in her place -- in a gentlemanly way
of course. Torvald thought back to the final episode of the original Star
Trek, when Dr. Janice Lester, a former lover of Kirk's, had switched him into
her body for revenge and to realize a lifelong ambition: to take over the
Enterprise as captain. After Kirk had spent most of the show as a woman, he
and Spock managed to return him to his proper body, and Dr. Lester to hers.
Now secure in his position as the stronger one again, and looming over the
formerly domineering and murderous Sharon, Torvald couldn't resist "consoling"
her with the words Kirk had spoken in that episode. "Now Sharon," he said
condescendingly, "don't despair. Your life can still be as rich as that of any
woman."

Sharon turned red, and, despite her diminutive size, balled her tiny hands
into fists and ran across the room at Torvald. It was as funny a sight as
Torvald had ever seen. He wouldn't fight back, but he put his arms up to catch
her, as Kirk had caught the embittered and enraged Lester.

To his shock, she pushed right by his hands and hit him in the chest, hard!

"Hey!" he said, grabbing her by her wrists. She looked at him, just as
surprised as he was. He had all the muscle; her arms were hardly more than
sticks. Yet he hadn't been able to stop her. Curious, she pulled her arms back
and easily broke his grip, then put her shoulder down and rammed into him,
sending him tripping across the room and crashing into the wall. It took him
several seconds to gather himself. When he started to get up, slowly,
groaning, and in considerable pain, she was right there next to him. With one
hand on his shoulder she pushed him back down, pinning him on the floor
effortlessly. "What the fuck!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah!" she replied, beaming. She flexed the biceps of her other arm, looking
at the tiny rise with new admiration. "These little muscles, like, they've got
super-strength or something!" She picked him up and held him above her head.
"Light as a feather!" she said with pure satisfaction, bending and
straightening her arms. She looked at the window and laughed, then walked
there and holding him up with just one hand, pulled the curtains open. "There,
take a look, since YOU can't see through them!" she said gleefully. Outside,
the sky was filled with flying women, some relaxing in mid-air chatting with
friends, some carrying men, some holding their sons while their daughters flew
alongside them. "I think I'm gonna like this place!" she exclaimed.

"No!" Torvald said, wondering what had gone wrong and how he was going to get
out of here. His eyes flashed to Cjersti's book, which in this universe too
sat on the same table where Cjersti had left it two swings ago. Had she
brought it to him here too? But this Cjersti had never swung out of this
universe. Or had she? Were they all linked somehow? Did the book exist with
him everywhere? His head spun pondering the possibilities.

Noticing the object of Torvald's gaze, Sharon swung around across the room and
picked up the book. "What's this?" she asked.

"It's nothing," Torvald answered. "Nothing you'd understand."

She raised an eyebrow. Wanting both hands free she tossed him onto the bed and
read the first page, then started flipping the pages more and more quickly
until her fingers were a blur. At one point she stopped, whooped a laugh and
slapped her thigh, then quickly finished the book. "You stupid jerk!" she
exclaimed. "You got a word wrong!" She cocked her head, like she was replaying
his voice in her mind. "Yeah, you said 'supermando', instead of -- oh, I
shouldn't tell you, should I?"

"I said WHAT?"

"You don't know, do you?"

"I never read that stupid book. It's gibberish."

"No it's not. It's as plain as can be." She looked at it again. "Oh, well,
maybe not for you. But for me, and I'd bet any woman here, with our
SUPER-minds." She thought for a second. "That must make it pretty dangerous."
With a flash of light from her eyes the book was reduced to a few ashes
floating toward the rug.

"No-o-o-o!" Torvald cried.

Sharon grinned. "Come on Torvy, it's just a book, and neither of us are really
into reading, are we? Hey, why don't you and I go out for a little swing
around the city? It'll be all on me!" She flew toward the frightened man and
took him under her arm, then lifted the window and hurtled outside, waving to
a few women nearby. Fifteen stories above the ground she took him by the hands
and started to swing him. "Round and round and round we go. Where we stop ...
only I know!"