The Amazon Artifact
By Lingster
Jennie finds an amazing artifact with strange powers
Update: 27/09/1997 to misc2

"MMmmmm.....That was nice, I wish you'd come more often." 

Darren looked in surprise at his girlfriend. "Monica! I've come every 
other weekend for two months!" 

"I know..." Monica replied, "but I miss you so much, and we're so 
isolated here." 

"Well, you should have thought of that before you took an assignment 400 
miles away.  Think of the other girls!  I work from home, so I can make 
the drive from Pittsburgh and not lose my job; Tiffany, Bob, Jennie and 
Alan aren't so lucky.  They haven't seen each other since the dig 
started.  We're the only two getting laid!" he exclaimed. 

"Ha ha, you're right, you're right.  I just miss you so much!  And look 
at you!  Without me around to take care of you, you're getting skinny!  
You're not eating well," Monica said, eyeing her boyfriend. 

"I guess," he said, looking down at himself, "Christ!  You're right!  I 
look like I've lost 15 pounds!  I'll take more care to eat right."  
Smiling, he said, "As opposed to you.  Camp food agrees with you, I 
guess." 

"I AM getting fat, huh?"  

"Only in some places," he said as he reached and squeezed her right 
breast.  Then, sliding his hand up to her shoulder and down her arm, and 
giggling, he pinched her bicep.  "In other areas it looks like it's 
muscles that are getting fatter.  All this field work must be making you 
a lot stronger.  I could feel it when we were making love, I was afraid 
you were going to toss me off and get on top!" 

"Don't make fun, skinny," she taunted back, if this keeps up I WILL be 
able to toss you around."  She flexed her arm and a substantial muscle 
bulged between Darren's fingers.  "Classroom archaeology is great, but 
it's been years since I've actually been on a dig.  I'll tell you, 
though, I never bulked up so much from the physical labor before," she 
said, judiciously studying her still-tensed bicep.  "When this is over, 
maybe I'll start working out with weights regularly.  I think I might 
have some talent for bodybuilding.  I...hadn't noticed how...muscular I 
was getting until just now.  The other girls have commented on it, 
but...I guess I've put on some pounds even in the last day or so."  

Darren smirked.  "Great.  Not only will I get ribbed for having a 
girlfriend who's smarter than me, she'll be stronger, too. Well, we got 
a workout, today.  The last three times I've been here, we've only been 
able to make love for a little while.  With the other girls in town, we 
had the whole morning!" 

"MMmmmm....yes.  And it never felt so good. I feel so energetic, so 
STRONG."  She flexed both arms this time -- shapely, defined  wedges of 
muscle the size of nectarines rose from her arms. 

"Yeah," he said, a little shocked by her double -bicep pose, realizing 
that her arms were nearly as thick as his own, "I'm exhausted.  Well, 
look, I'm going to run.  I need to get back to Pittsburgh by this 
evening and...well, I'll see you in two weeks.  No!  Don't get up, I 
want my last sight to be of my naked big-titty muscle-girl laying in her 
camp cot," he said as he pulled his clothes on. 

"Okay," she agreed, "but you send me e-mail when you get home, and kiss 
me before you go." 

"Alright," he agreed, bending down to kiss her in bed.  Her breath 
caught as she felt the electricity of his kiss.  "Have you been 
practicing on other girls?  You were never so good a kisser before," she 
giggled. 

"Long experience, sweetheart.  You're right, I really do need to eat 
better, these clothes are really baggy.  If it wasn't for my belt, my 
pants would fall down.  Even my shoes are loose.  I'd better watch 
myself.  Bye!" 

Monica watched him leave her tent, thinking, "Men!  He can't take care 
of himself for two months without losing 15 pounds.  Christ, he's lost 
so much weight he even looks SHORTER." 

Getting up out of her cot, she took time to flex her new muscles and 
feel how hard and large they'd gotten.  "Wish I had a full length mirror 
to check myself out in," she said to no one in particular.  She was 
shocked to feel her breasts.  When she came here two months earlier, 
she'd been just a small handful.  Lately she'd had to borrow a bra from 
her buxom colleague, Tiffany.  Still, she though, her swollen tits 
barely filled Tiffany's C-Cup brassiere.    

She reached over for Tiff's bra, and was surprised that she now fit the 
cups quite well, in fact she overflowed them slightly.  "Shit, I have 
packed on the weight in the last day or so, this was loose just 
yesterday!  Isn't Tiffany going to be shocked, I'm bigger than her, 
now," she thought as she inhaled deeply and thrust her full new breasts 
out. 

Picking up her shirt, she was further pleased to discover that she 
couldn't get the top three buttons fastened, "I'm really getting big 
tits!  Puberty was ten years ago, but NOW my tits grow to huge 
proportions!  I could'a used these in high school."  She tied her shirt 
into a makeshift tank-top, tightly, so as to achieve maximum cleavage. 

So charmed was Monica by her swollen tits, she didn't even notice that 
her pants didn't quite descend as far as her ankles, nor that the seams 
at her shoulders were stretching apart from the pressure of her 
shoulders. 

Just then, she heard the sound of her two partners arriving back at the 
dig site. 

She threw on her jacket, leaving it unbuttoned so that her friends could 
see her swollen bosom, and ran out to help them unload the jeep.  

"Hey Tiff, hey Jennie!  What've you got?" 

"Oh, hey, Mon....," Tiffany choked, "Y-your tits!  They're huge!" 

"Well," she said, stopping and looking into her own cleavage, "Not HUGE, 
plenty of women have D-cup size breasts."  

"B-but...not YOU." 

"Well, I've been eating too much, I guess... I'll need to go on a diet 
when we get back," she said, even as she wished that her breasts would 
grow still larger.  She thrust them out as she had earlier, and said, 
"Jeez, Tiff, am I bigger than you, now?  Funny how they've grown so 
quickly." 

Tiffany just stared at Monica's swollen bosom, and then at her own 
large, but suddenly small-seeming, breasts.  "Well, whatever you've been 
eating, pass some my way." 

"None for me, thanks," piped up 5'2" and flat-chested Jennie.  "The damn 
things just sag as you get older.  I'll stay small and skinny and 
practical, if it's alright with you two tit-queens." 

"No objections here, Jen," Monica giggled, "but you don't know what 
you're missing." 

"Yeah, yeah.  Come on, we have some heavy lifting to do.  We got the 
ground penetrating radar from Namoza Enterprises, but we needed to get 
the kid at Mail Boxes Etc. to put it in the jeep for us.  He was SO 
cute; such nice muscles.  Tiff and I could barely get the thing off the 
ground, but all three of us should be able to get it out and lower it 
off the jeep.  Then we can move it with the hand-truck," Jennie said. 

With that, Monica walked over to the jeep, and, grunting, lifted the 
unit and lowered it to the ground.  "You were right, it is heavy." 

"Uh...yeah," Tiffany gawked.  "Uh, Monica, stand next to me.  I think, 
yeah, you're taller than you were.  And you're nearly as strong as the 
kid at Mail Boxes.  Are you on steroids or something?" 

"No!  I...I don't know.  Am I really taller? You're what, 5'5", Tiff?  
Same height as me... only I'm about two inches taller, now.  What the 
hell's going on?"  Monica removed her jacket, raised both arms and 
flexed them, as she'd done earlier for Darren. 

Her friends' mouths dropped open.  "My GOD," Jennie exclaimed, "you've 
got muscles like a teenaged boy!"  Jennie reached up and grabbed 
Monica's bicep, "It's harder than Alan's, and nearly as big!  You get 
any stronger, honey, and I'm going to start thinking about YOU at 
night." 

"Yeah, well, let's get some work done.  If you two weaklings help me, we 
should be able to carry this radar unit to the dig-site.  We'll worry 
about me getting...bigger later.  Jennie, let GO of my arm!" 

"Okay, okay...your big mams don't do so much for me, but I could go for 
a little of this muscle," Jennie said, smiling, as she pumped her own 
soft, miniscule biceps in imitation of Monica's pose.  "Maybe 'weak' 
isn't so practical." 

The girls laughed as the carried the radar unit over to the dig site, 
about 200 feet away.  

As they opened the crate, they discovered that the Namoza Corporation, 
dig sponors, had packed the most recent forensics analysis in with the 
equipment. 

"This is interesting," Tiffany said, perusing the report, "that femur we 
found belonged to a woman."  

Jennie gawked, "The BIG one?  She was one big squaw!"  

"Six-foot-seven,"  Tiffany muttered.  "Well, the Delawares were tall 
people -- taller than the Europeans of their time by four inches, on 
average.  She must have been a freak -- thyroid problems." 

"Guess so," Monica said, even as she wondered about her own recent 
development.  "Hey, let's take the ground penetrating radar over to the 
center of the monolith ring, see what we can see underneath that 
boulder." 

"Yeah, good idea.  Maybe it'll help us figure out how they set this ring 
up, the damn thing's nearly as big as Stonehenge!  Can't wait until the 
press finds out about this thing... 'STONEHENGE in The Delaware Water 
Gap...News at 11!'"  Tiffany giggled, "We'll be famous!" 

"Yeah, well, let's just get this thing set up," Jennie said, tinkering 
with the cables, "Hey, you, Ms. Muscles, use those powerful arms of 
yours to crank up the generator." 

"Aye aye, mein capitan!"  Monica saluted, her rangy muscles straining 
the fabric of her blouse. 

A few hours later, they'd finished up, and the results were 
incontrovertible.  "There's a metal object under that boulder, a 
hexagon, or possibly a dodecahedron.  Machined metal, by the precision 
of the viewable angles,"  Tiffany declared. "Forget Stonehenge...A 3000-
year-old piece of machined metal found in North America is bigger news.  
We need to get that thing.  As soon as possible -- we've found what 
could possibly be the most valuable archaeological artifact...ever.  We 
can't even tell the Namoza people yet, we need to exercise total 
secrecy." 

"An OOPA," Jennie whispered.  

Monica looked at her, "A what?" 

"Out Of Place Artifact, like those batteries they found in the Pyramids, 
or that map of the Antarctic land-mass under the ice, that a 15th 
century Arab sea-captain drew, writing he based it on an earlier map in 
his possession.  Or the fact that the German and Panamanian words for 
"Atlantis" are the same," Jennie stuttered.  "We found an OOPA." 

"Whatever," Tiffany said, "we need to move that slab.  And we're going 
to need that winch we have in the warehouse in Philadelphia.  Monica, 
are you up for the trip?" 

"Sure.  Jennie, you'll be alright here for tonight?  If we leave now, we 
should be back by 3am," Monica said, looking at her watch.  

"Yeah, I'll take the other Jeep and go into town, hit some bars.  Maybe 
I'll get laid.  Screw Alan if he can't make time to come see me," she 
said. 

"Alright, just be careful," Monica smiled, "seeya kiddo." 

As Monica and Tiffany drove off, Jennie's smile disappeared.  "An OOPA.  
Right here. I need to get shit-drunk and held in the arms of a big 
strong man.  Time to strap on the wonderbra and the short skirt." 


Jennie had no figure flaws, she thought, because she needed a figure 
first.  Still, with a padded bra she looked passably sexy.  "Let's go 
out and dazzle the rednecks," she said to herself, puckering her mouth 
as she applied lipstick.  Fixing the sleeve on her blouse, she grabbed 
her own upper arm as she had Monica's earlier. Squeezing, she was able 
to fit her hand all the way around.  "Skin and bones.  Wish I had a 
little meat on my scrawny body.  I guess Monica gets all the luck, not 
to mention all the muscles."  She sighed and walked out to the Jeep. 

An hour later, she was well on her way to being thoroughly polluted.  
The bar she was in,  "Milo's" was the closest thing to a halfway decent 
gin-mill the little town of Ringford, New Jersey had.  Being dressed in 
a slightly more "worldly" fashion than most of the locals, she drew 
quite a bit of attention, all of it welcome.  

"Hi, you just passin' through, or you live aroun' here, cutie?" 

Jennie looked up, "Cute" she thought.  She reached up and grabbed his 
shoulder, "Strong," she thought, though his goofy countenance suggested 
that he was not too terribly bright. He stood about six-five, and had to 
weigh close to 300 pounds.  "A little bit of both, big man.  I'm Jennie, 
what's your name?" 

"Bill." 

"And how did you get such big muscles, Bill?" 

"Uh, me?  Hard work, I guess.  You like 'em?" 

"Mmmm...." she sighed, "I like 'em.  You're just what I'm looking for." 

"No, no Bill, not in the tent.  Over there, by those monoli...big 
rocks," Jenny whispered, clinging to Bill's powerful right arm, pulling 
it behind her as she tried to lead her drunken consort to the dig site. 
 
"We're doin' it OUTSIDE?  Kinky,"  Bill slurred. 
 
"This is a magical place, Bill, and I want you inside me HERE," Jenny 
said, as she crawled on top of the slab-shaped boulder in the center of 
the monolith ring. 
 
"I never done it on a rock before, aren't you gonna hurt, layin' down on 
it?" he asked. 
 
"Not if you're careful, now touch me here.   You just stand up there, at 
the edge of the rock, and I'll lay on it. Ohhh, yes, yes, do that again, 
Bill.  Oh, Bill, touch me here. MMMmmmmmmm...hold me in your strong 
arms."  His touch felt electric, and she could feel a delightful warmth 
coming from the rock below her.  Her whole body tingled and felt charged 
with sexual energy. 
 
"You sure talk a lot, why don't I just get right in there?" he asked, 
answering his own question as he ripped her panties off and thrust 
himself inside of her. 
 
Not ready to accept him into her, pain shot through Jennie's body. Her 
nerve endings felt like they were on fire.  She saw spots and felt a 
sudden, enormous static-electrical discharge, and a dull ache filled her 
whole body, replacing the hot pain of a second earlier.  "Get off!" she 
shouted, placing her hands against Bill's chest and pushing with all her 
strength.  He stumbled backwards and fell on his backside.  He was 
yelling something at her, but her ears felt like they were stuffed with 
cotton, and she couldn't hear him.  She couldn't sit up just yet, she 
felt extremely nauseous.  Bill, for his part, had gotten up and was 
running back towards his truck.  He kept pulling his pants up, even as 
they kept falling down.  He seemed very agitated about something.   
 
A few minutes later, she made her way to her feet, and stumbled into the 
tent she shared with Tiffany and Monica.  She tossed and turned for a 
while before she finally fell asleep. 
 
"JENNIE...JENNIE!  Wake UP!" 
 
Jennie opened her eyes, it was still dark, and Tiffany was standing over 
her.  "What?  What, s'time to get up?" 
 
"No!  No...Jennie, there's a guy in a pickup truck here, and 
he's...well, he's dead!" 
 
"Dead?  Who's dead?"  Jennie asked.  She was still confused, but 
consciousness was coming back quickly. 
 
"We don't know, we thought you might," Tiffany said, "a dead guy, maybe 
25 years old, really skinny weak-looking guy, about five-foot-six.  
You...you didn't bring him back here, did you?" 
 
"No...I came back with a...bigger guy, but he left hours ago.  I...I..." 
she stammered, suddenly unsure of herself and the evening's events.  
 
"Well, uh," Tiffany said, "get dressed, and then we'll call the cops." 
 
Jennie watched Tiffany leave , and slowly got out of bed.  She felt very 
sore, but oddly energized, like she'd just finished lifting  weights.  
She went to put her bra on, but it was uncomfortably tight. Ditto for 
her jeans, and her shirt.  "Must've shrunk in the wash..., I'll turn on 
the light, find some other clothes."   In the light, she realized what 
the problem was:  "Muscles....I've got muscles.  Holy shit!"  
 
She could still, almost, fit her hand around her untensed arm.  But 
tensed it bulged to two or three times its normal circumference.  And it 
was hard all the time -- her whole body was covered with defined muscles 
and bulging vascularity.  She felt enormously strong, as powerful as a 
man, though she was only slightly larger than she'd been before.  As 
she'd watched Monica do earlier, Jennie flexed both arms in unison, and 
was thrilled to see powerful shoulders rip the t-shirt apart at the top 
of the sleeve.  She grabbed her collar and pulled down, shredding the 
cotton fabric as if it were tissue paper.  After posing in the tiny camp 
mirror for several minutes, she rmembered why she'd been woken up, and 
hurried into some other clothes.  

She put on a loose sweatshirt and baggy pair of jeans -- they still fit 
comfortably, and examined herself.  Looking in her make-up mirror, she 
realized that her face had filled out somewhat, quite flatteringly, she 
thought.   
 
The tent stood eight-feet tall, with a thick wooden cross beam running 
depthwise 6 feet off the ground.  Jennie jumped up in the air and 
grabbed the beam with her left hand, holding herself aloft.  Then, using 
her right arm for balance, she began to do one-arm pull-ups.  She found 
that she was able to do 54 with her left arm and 63 with her right.  
"Hot damn, I'm as strong as an ox." 
  
She put on her shoes and a baseball cap, and went out to join her 
friends. 
 
The dead man was Bill.  An emaciated, shrunken Bill. 
 
Tiffany asked, "Do you know him, Jennie?" 
 
"Yes, yes I did know him," she responded, flatly.  She reached over to 
take his pulse.  Remembering how enormous and powerful his arms had 
been, she was amazed at how scrawny they'd become. His body was as soft 
as baby flesh.  She realized that all of his strength had been 
transferred to her, and he hadn't had enough left even to stay alive.  
"We can't call the police.  We'll have to dispose  of the body...and the 
truck." 
 
"WHAT!!!???" Tiffany and Monica gaped at her, shrieking incoherent 
protests.  "Dispose of the BODY!?," Monica shouted, "Are you nuts?  
Why?" 
 
"They'll shut us down, guys, if they find out about this," she responded 
calmly.  "This is NOT 19th-century Cairo.  Mysterious deaths at an 
archaeological site in 20th-century New Jersey will bring state and 
federal investigative agencies.  The FBI, the  Environmental Protection 
Agency, the Drug Enforcement  Agency, the State Police, and so on.  Not 
to mention the Bureau of Indian Affairs, if they still exist.  They will 
SHUT US DOWN." 
 
"But he's DEAD," Tiffany objected.   
 
"And I'm very sorry about that...but turning him over to the cops won't 
solve his problems, and it will make ours a lot worse," Jennie reasoned,  
"Tiffany, you take the Jeep.  I'll drive his pick-up.  We'll need to 
fill it with gas, and then drive it off that cliff-side road by the 
tourist look-out.  Everybody will assume he was shrunk, er, drunk.  
Monica, you stay here and  obliterate his tire tracks.  Make sure you 
get them all." 

"Okay," Monica said, "but I still don't understand why you brought home 
a weakling like this guy.  I can't imagine it." 
 
Jennie leaped up into the truck, her lean, incredibly powerful legs 
springing with terrifying agility.  The truck was a 20-year- old Ford, 
with manual steering and shift.  Before tonight, she would have been too 
weak to drive it.   Now it was a piece of cake.  As she drove, one 
handed, she couldn't resist feeling her body all over.  Sharp, angular 
muscles protruded from every point.  Bill had been an immensely powerful 
man, but now all the strength he'd contained in his 6'5" (197 cm), 300 
pound (135 kg)body was hers.  She realized that, pound for pound, she 
was probably the strongest person on earth.  It was, she realized, a 
very practical strength.  And if she could mourn Bill for the horrible 
thing that had happened, poor idiot that he was, she could imagine 
herself stalking evil men for their strength, or taking little bits of 
strength from many men, without killing anyone else.  She could grow 
ever stronger, and maybe even larger, as, she now understood, Monica had 
grown from having sex with her boyfriend, at some distance from the 
excavation.  "I wonder if it's the distance or the length of time that 
matters with the size transfer?  The  transfer of strength must begin 
immediately, Bill was only inside me for a few seconds, and he was able 
to run away...the transfer of...of...POWER must have occurred instantly.  
The transfer of mass must need prolonged contact, and for both, the 
further you are from the...OOPA, the less effective the transfer.  At 
some distance, all effectiveness ceases." 
 
"And I," little Jennie mused, "am the only one who knows any of this." 
 
The truck made a spectacular flash as it exploded at the bottom of the 
Delaware Water Gap.   When she had moved Bill's corpse back to the 
driver's seat, she realized that his bones had become brittle: his 
ribcage collapsed in her hands, and his lower legs had detached  from 
the knee joints, with only papery skin holding them on.  Pus poured out 
of tears that had appeared in his skin. 
 
Apparently, all of  the strength of his bodily tissues had been 
transferred. "Poor Bill," she thought, "if only you'd gotten out of 
range before you got too weak.  You'd be a wimp for life, but at least 
you'd be alive."  Now what was left of him was burning at the bottom of 
a cliff. 
 
Tiffany was practically catatonic on the trip back to the campsite, and 
Jennie didn't try to talk her back, she was too busy plotting her next 
move. 
 
She got back to sleep fairly easily, in spite of all the thoughts that 
were racing through her head.  The next morning, she wore the same bulky 
clothes as the night before.  "Jenny," Monica  called, "why are you 
wearing long sleeves on such a warm day?" 
 
"I'm a little chilly," she called back, smiling, the real reason being 
that bare sleeves would raise questions she wasn't prepared to answer. 
 
"And what were you attracted to in that guy?  I thought you like 'em big 
and strong?  That guy probably wasn't any stronger than the average 
GIRL," Monica said, adding, "Hell, I'M probably TWICE as strong as he 
was."  She flexed her thick biceps for what seemed like the four 
hundredth time in the last day. 
 
"I don't know," Jennie smiled knowingly, "I think I could get used to 
guys who are weaker than me." 
 
"Well, he wasn't THAT small," Monica snorted. 
 
"He could'a been," Jennie mumbled. 
 
They were progressing on the dig, hoping to expose the base of the 
slab/boulder.  And then they'd attempt to recover the OOPA.   
 
Jennie worked with a determination and a stamina that surprised her 
colleagues.  Still extremely uncomfortable with their criminal act of 
the night before, they spoke little and dedicated themselves to the task 
at hand.  They were appreciating the solid progress they'd made when the 
police cruiser pulled up. 
 
"I'll handle this," Jennie said.   
 
She strolled over to the police car and said, "Can I help you, officer?" 
 
He was of medium height and build, and the first man Jennie had 
encountered since her strength had been...equalized.  It gave her a 
quiet thrill to look at this man, and know that she could easily trounce 
him in any contest of strength.   
 
"Yes," the officer said, "you were seen leaving Milo's Bar last night 
with Bill McGovern?"   
 
Jennie smiled at the way he turned a statement into a question, and 
responded, "Yes, but he...got fresh...in the parking lot, and I ran 
away.  Why, did he go after somebody else?" 
 
"Well, actually, he's, uh, he's dead.  His truck went over a cliff down 
on the county highway," the cop said. 
 
"OhmyGOD!"  Jennie feigned surprise, "He...he was just drunk, he didn't 
mean anything, I'm sure, and now he's DEAD?  I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.  
My God." 
 
"Well, that's alright, it's a tragedy, that's for sure.  Bill was well 
liked, a lot of folks are going to miss him.  But he drank too much.  
Truth is, I was just sent over to make sure you're OK -- the coroner 
said he never saw a body smashed up so bad as Bill's.  We've only been 
able to find about 50 pounds of remains, and the big guy weighed damn 
near six times that!  A frail little thing like you, well, your  body 
might'a been disintegrated in that blast!  

Milo will be happy to know you're OK, too, it tore that old indian's 
heart out to hear about poor Bill.  Well, thanks for your help, if we 
have any other questions, we'll be in touch." 
 
"Milo's an indian?," Jennie asked. 
 
"Yep, last of the Leni Lenape in this county.  And no kids -- sad how 
things can't last, ain't it?" 
 
"Yeah, sad," Jennie agreed. 
 
The police officer drove away, and Jennie walked back to the dig site.  
She wanted to get back to work, but she couldn't quite shake a feeling 
that she was in over her head. 
 
By the end of the day, the boulder lay completely exposed.  There was a 
separation visible along the mid-section, and all three assumed it to be 
the point at which the two pieces interlocked.  Within lay the OOPA.  
"Well," Tiffany said, "that's probably enough for today, we can continue 
tomorrow, and use the winch to separate the pieces." 
 
"Yeah," agreed Jennie.  "I'm going to catch some shut-eye.  You guys 
going in to town tonight?" 
 
"Sure, why, you need anything?"  Monica asked.   
 
"I could use some maxi-pads, and some, uh, baby powder.  I've been 
chafing lately.  Let me give you a few bucks," Jennie responded. 
 
After her friends drove off, she got to work.  The slab was heavy, she 
knew that.  But it was time to test her strength, and she couldn't 
imagine a more useful application.   
 
Taking off her sweatshirt, she grabbed hold of the end of the slab, 
squatted, and lifted.  It excited her to watch her muscles and veins 
bulge out of her arms as she slowly raised the large rock platform away 
from where it had sat for thousands of years.  Gently, she lowered it to 
the side and gazed at the bronze-colored soccer-ball looking OOPA.  It 
was a dodecahedron, a twelve-sided shape, with intricate, otherworldly 
carvings on each of its sides.  It was nestled in a space that had 
clearly been carved specifically for it. 
 
Heavy, even for her, she imagined that it was composed of a dense metal.  
She was careful to replace the slab to its ancient resting place. 
Wrapping  the OOPA in a coat, she headed for the remaining Jeep, and 
then set off for Camden, New Jersey.  Along the way she stopped at a 
bowling alley and procured a bag for her secret cargo. 
 
She drove south for about an hour before she began to see signs that 
she'd reached her destination.  Camden, Jennie now remembered, is a 
total shithole.  
 
"LIVE NAKED COUCH DANCING," the billboard read.  Jennie smiled, this 
would do.  Since Camden's largely a post-industrial red-light district 
for its sister city, Philadelphia, she knew she'd be able to find a 
place like this.   
 
Everyone stopped and stared as Jennie walked in, carrying her bowling-
ball bag.  She took a booth in the back, and soon they all seemed to 
forget about her.  The crowd at the bar was an interesting one, 
comprised of white-collar types on the way home to the 'burbs, as well 
as surly-looking urban blacks, and some students sporting Rutgers Camden 
Law School sweatshirts and caps. 
 
There were the obligatory girls dancing on the bar, as well as on raised 
platforms scattered about the place.  Jennie suspected that any contact 
to an erogenous zone would effect some degree of transfer, and she 
wanted to test her theory out.  She believed that the OOPA's effect 
declined exponentially as the distance increased -- so she was careful 
to sit next to an exterior wall.  Two people screwing in close proximity 
would likely be fatal for the male, and she didn't want to kill anybody; 
she was about 50 feet from any possible back rooms.   
 
There were about 7 girls -- all shapely, and for the most part 
attractive.  She realized she couldn't focus on all of them, so she 
chose as her subject a tall, skinny blond with medium- sized breasts.  
The girl was very pretty, and seemed to be getting the most attention 
from the customers.  If there was any effect from non-penetrative, but 
still intimate, contact, she'd be the one to watch. 
 
It took about an hour to be sure.  She did notice that the girl jumped 
once or twice when men put money in her top, as though she'd received a 
jolt of static electricity.  And one guy who copped a feel of her ass 
fell right off his stool, only to be picked up and tossed out by a 
bouncer.  But after an hour, it was clear that the girl had added size: 
her breasts were straining her bikini top, and her previously 
undetectable muscles now showed clear shape and separation.  If she 
didn't know any better, Jennie would have guessed the girl pumped iron.  
She'd put on a solid  ten pounds.   As she looked around, she saw that 
all the girls were looking pretty stacked and buff; no dramatic changes, 
but that was just what she had expected. 
 
As she was driving back towards Rte. 206, to head back to the digsite, 
she saw something that interested her on a sign at another club: "Ladies 
Night: All Male Revue."   "Maybe I'll stop here, too," she said to 
herself.  "What's the worst that could happen?" 

 
Standing outside the All Male Revue, Jennie  locked the OOPA in her 
trunk.  She didn't want to turn any of these strippers into weaklings -- 
they'd have trouble earning a living, and besides, she much preferred 
muscles on men to muscles on women.  She wondered, "Doesn't everybody?"  
In the other club, 50 men  had caused perceptible growth in 7 
women....if the ratio were reversed, the male strippers would be 
weakened, but the gain  would be so diluted as to have no purpose.  
Still, she parked her car close to the building, and was able to get a 
seat at the table closest to it.  She'd never really thought about it  
before Monica's sudden muscularization, but since she developed titanic 
strength of her own, she realized that she LIKED being strong.  And if 
she could find guys who deserved it, she'd gladly strip them of their 
physical power to enhance women who wanted or needed to be strong.  
 
The place was full of women, and Jennie felt a little out of place being 
there alone.  Some bureaucrat-looking women at the next table were 
clearly drunk -- making a lot of noise and shouting to the dancers to 
come over.   One of them, a cute little redheaded woman, was clearly 
inebriated.  She was shouting and waving money in the air. 
 
When a large, powerfully built dancer came over and began dancing on 
their table, the red-headed woman started stuffing his bikini briefs 
with dollar bills.  Suddenly and without warning, she moved her face in 
close to his genitals, pulled his briefs down, and kissed his private 
parts.  There was a visible arc of electricity  that erupted between the 
two, and the dancer fell off the table, smashing his head against the 
floor.  He looked somewhat smaller to Jennie, but it was hard to judge 
since he wasn't wearing any clothes.  The little redhead, however, was 
bulging out of her clothes at every opening.  The shoulder seams of her 
blouse had ruptured, her slender sleeves were straining against the 
pressure of her  suddenly developed muscle mass, and several buttons had 
burst as her breasts busted out in sudden growth.  She'd gone from 
having an average build to looking like a cross between a female 
bodybuilder and a bikini model.   
 
The redhead stood up, her frumpy blouse and skirt looking ridiculous on 
her lengthened, buff frame.  "Look at me!  Look at my body!" She thrust 
her enlarged bosom out, causing her overloaded brassiere to split apart.  
Her newly ample boobs spilled out of her blouse, and thrusting her 
shoulders back caused seam splits down her arms.  The woman had been 
wearing white nylon stockings, but her sudden growth had overwhelmed 
them, and runs were appearing  spontaneously as the freshly built 
muscles in her legs shifted.  The redhead raised her arms in a double 
bicep pose, her lats shredding her blouse from the armpits down.  When 
she flexed her biceps, what was left of her sleeves ripped away 
revealing generous, thick muscle from her shoulders to her elbow.  "I'm 
never going to be able to find clothes that fit!  And I feel so STRONG!  
That was the best blow job I ever gave," the redhead babbled. 
  
The formerly-little redhead's friends were all staring, and Jennie 
realized it would only be a moment or two before they all began grabbing 
dancers' peters in a rush to enhance their own  figures.  She ran out 
the door, started her car, and floored it out of the parking lot, hoping 
the DD-cup amazon and her mousy friends hadn't gotten to any of the 
other dancers in time.    
 
She came to a traffic light, and happened to look over into the next car 
to see a couple of teenagers necking.  Like a deer caught in the 
headlights, Jennie sat frozen as she watched the girls arm, wrapped 
around her boyfriend, grow slowly thicker and more defined.  Shadows and 
lines began to form in the muscle -- she was becoming very strong, 
Jennie could tell.  The boy was wearing a varsity jacket that indicated 
he was a fullback on the football team. She heard a boy's voice cry out 
in pain even as the seams on the girl's white t-shirt ruptured.  It 
looked like the girl had added about six or seven inches in 
circumference to her now-bulging bicep when the light turned green and 
Jennie floored the car.  "Well, I just screwed up THAT relationship," 
she muttered to herself, "I wonder if the coach will let a girl play on 
the defensive line?  Jeez, This thing turns women into muscle vampires.  
I need to get a lead box for it -- assuming even that would shield its 
effect." 
 
As she was passing through the town of Maple Shade, New Jersey, she saw 
a sign for a "Hooters Family Restaurant."  She giggled, and thought, 
"Well, I *AM* hungry, and there aren't likely to be many women customers 
in here, plus the workers aren't going to be getting it on with any 
men." 
 
She walked in by herself, carrying her bowling ball bag to a two-seater 
booth near the back entrance.  She was astounded at how attractive the 
waitresses were.  And while their breasts generally failed to live up to 
the restaurant's name, several of the girls were very well endowed.   
 
About ten minutes into her meal, she was surprised to see a male and 
female bodybuilder enter.  The woman was really bulked-up -- not one of 
those skinny muscle girls that compete in fitness contests, and Jennie 
suspected, by the shape of her face and her bad skin, that she took 
steroids.  The two sat at the bar, about 10 feet from Jennie, and were 
served by a beautiful, slender, young blonde girl with the franchise's 
trademark large gazungas. 
 
Jennie watched, beginning to get nervous, as she realized that the 
female bodybuilder had some unresolved hostility towards the waitresses 
who worked in Hooters.  "F*****' CHEERLEADERS work in this place.  Just 
like in high school -- so pretty, so perfect, using their big tits to 
get whatever they want."  "Shh....Polly,  come on, they're not bothering 
you," her companion said, trying to calm her down.  The big woman was 
already on her third beer, and she was clearly agitated about something.  
As her waitress walked by, she reached out to grab her, but missed and 
fell off her stool, landing flat on her well-muscled ass.   
 
Jennie couldn't help but giggle, along with the rest of the people in 
the restaurant, at Polly's ineffectual attempts to scramble to her feet.  
Finally, though, she did manage to get up, and she glared right at 
Jennie.  "You think that's funny, skinny?" 
 
"Polly!  Come back and sit down, leave her alone," her companion 
insisted.  "Don't worry, Mike, I'm not gonna hurt her -- just gonna talk 
to her."  
 
Jennie stayed in her booth as the big, muscular woman sauntered over and 
said, "You should learn to respect your betters, munchkin." 
 
"I learned that lesson a long time ago," Jenny retorted, "but all I see 
is a drunk who's taking steroids to make up for her shortcomings." 
 
The big girl hissed, shocked by Jennie's bravery.  "You think you're 
pretty hot shit, huh?  You're lucky I don't kick your ass," Polly said, 
in an even louder voice than before. 
 
"Yeah?" Jennie asked, "Well, if you're so tough, why don't we arm 
wrestle?" 
 
Polly smiled, "Sure runt.  Two, heh heh, two out of three?" 
 
"You're on," Jennie said. 
 
A little crowd gathered around, composed partly of the pretty blond 
waitress and Polly's friend Mike, as well as some of the twenty-
something, white-collar guys who infested the place. Some of the other 
waitresses gathered around, as well. 
 
Jennie and Polly locked hands, and Jennie felt a very slight static 
shock.  "What? Oh Christ, it's all the testosterone in her...it's a good 
thing we're only touching hands, or she'd be shrinking fast," Jennie 
thought.  Even so, she could feel herself absorbing size and strength 
from the bigger girl, though only very small amounts of it  -- hours 
would need to go by before there would be a perceptible change in 
either's body. 
 
The first time, Polly went for an immediate slam, only to find that she 
could barely budge Jennie's arm.  Still, Jennie deliberately let her arm 
fall, so as to give Polly the first win.   Jennie could see the waitress 
was disappointed, it was clear she resented Polly's harrassment. 
 
On the second try, Jennie held her arm steady and let Polly struggle 
with it for awhile, and then, to the astonishment of all, slammed Polly 
down with enough force that all of the cutlery on the table rattled. 
 
"Wow, guess I don't know my own strength!  And I'm sweating like a pig 
in this sweatshirt, let me take it off," Jennie said, exercising her 
best dramatic skills. 
 
As she pulled off her shirt, the crowd gasped collectively at the 
incredible muscularity of her slender, wiry frame. 
 
"Oh, you guys *LIKE* these?" she asked, teasingly, flexing her bicep so 
that it swelled to disturbing size.  
 
Polly was clearly furious. So when the pretty blonde waitress said, "I 
wish *I* had muscles like that!" the female bodybuilder stood up, 
knocking the table over onto Jennie, and pulled the slender-yet-buxom 
blonde waitress' too-tight tank-top down.  Her D-Cup breasts bobbled 
right out, and Polly grabbed at them, shouting, "What's the matter, 
you're not satisfied with these big tits...?" 

But as her hands cupped the waitress' boobs, arcs of electricity similar 
to those Jennie had seen at the All Male Revue arced between the 
waitress and Polly.  But this time, neither fell away.   Jennie watched 
horrifed, as she scrambled from under the table.  The pretty blonde 
waitress, "Teri," according to her name-tag, was growing at an alarming 
rate.  Her slender arms erupted with thick cords of bulging muscle, even 
as her already large breasts grew bigger and firmer, lifted higher as 
her pectoral muscles swelled and her back arched from sheer ecstasy.  
Poor Polly had shrunk down to the size of a normal woman by the time 
Mike, her companion, attempted to separate the two girls.   
 
Teri hadn't grown bulk like Polly's.  Rather she'd gained height and 
shape.  Although her muscles had grown to considerable size, the rest of 
her had grown as well.  Polly had shrunk (and was still shrinking) from 
about 5'9" to about 5'5".  Teri had increased from about 5'4" to nearly 
the equal of Mike's 6' height.   
 
Mike was still stronger than Teri, however, and so he grabbed her by her 
right arm and spun her around, away from Polly. 

What was left of the female bodybuilder collapsed in a heap.  Jennie 
glanced at Polly and realized that she looked practically  anorexic.  
"I'm weak again!  Weaker than EVER!" Polly screamed, suddenly aware of 
her tremendously diminished physique.  Polly was clutching her scrawny, 
soft arms, desperately trying to find some remnant of the muscle that 
had made her the physical superior of most men.  Jennie guessed that 
Polly now weighed only about 80 pounds, and was about five-foot, four 
inches tall.  She doubted that Polly had the strength to stand -- she'd 
be a pushover from now on. 
 
More from simple ecstasy than any malevolence, Teri, so overwhelmed by 
the sexual power that was rushing through her, immediately clung to Mike 
and kissed him deeply.  Mike tried to push her away, but his strength 
was fleeing his body and rushing into Teri, who was now taller and more 
powerful than he. His horror was evident as his shrinking body became 
embedded between the waitress's swelling breasts, his once-powerful arms 
and legs growing shorter, more slender, and weaker with each passing 
second.  Teri, well past the six-foot mark, was actually holding him  
aloft with her left hand clenched to his trousers, and her right 
caressing the back of his neck, as she forced her tongue down his 
throat. 
 
Jennie, finally back on her feet, pulled the rapidly dwindling Mike away 
from the now truly amazonic Teri.  Mike hadn't become a weakling, but he 
sure didn't look like any kind of bodybuilder anymore.  He'd lost about 
five inches in height, and about seventy pounds of mass.  5'7", 150 
pounds wasn't anything to be ashamed of, but he wasn't the man, much 
less the muscle-god, he'd been a few minutes earlier.  He was crying. 
 
Teri had come to her senses, and from her six-foot-six inch height, she 
could see the whole bar staring at her, many of them beginning to panic.  
She'd grown over a foot in height and added nearly 200 pounds in mass 
over the last three minutes; but her disorientation was passing.  She 
clenched her fists, aware for the first time of the incredible strength 
her body now possessed.   
 
Some of the other waitresses had ripped off their own tops, and were 
running around pleading with the male customers, yelling "Grab my 
breasts!" or "Feel me up!" 
 
From across the room, Jennie could see that one short fat guy had taken 
a lovely brunette up on her offer, and placed his hands on her large-ish 
bosom.  The brunette clearly worked out, there was already definition in 
her untensed arms and calves. 
 
The chubby guy looked like he hadn't gotten laid in years, and the 
temptation of fondling this gorgeous creature's breasts had proved too 
much for him.  Luckily, he was 25 feet from the OOPA, and had more fat 
than muscle.   The waitresses breasts began to swell beneath his grasp, 
and he seemed close to ecstasy himself. 
 
But when she suddenly grabbed hold of him by his mid-section and lifted 
him in the air with her powerful, swelling arms, he broke contact and 
began to panic.  She smiled and said, "Look at how strong I'm getting!  
I'm probably stronger than most men, now!  And you!  Ha!  You're getting 
smaller and weaker by the second, I can't BELIEVE how weak you are 
compared to me -- you were so much stronger before." 
 
Small and weak as he had become, he really had no chance of getting 
loose.  She pulled him close and forced his mouth onto her left breast, 
causing an electrical spike that blew out all of the lights in the 
building.  Her arms exploded  with muscle, and her breasts began to 
inflate like balloons.  By the time his friends pulled him away, the 
waitress had grown to both body-builder and porn-star proportions: six 
inches taller than she'd started, with 15" cannons for arms, and breasts 
the size of basketballs.  The new muscle she was showing off looked 
pretty good.  A smaller crowd of  waitresses had gathered around her, 
watching her flex her new muscles, "Look at these! YEARS of pumping iron 
wouldn't have done HALF of what kissing that little shit did!  And I'm 
so much TALLER, too!  With these tits,  I'll make so much in tips, I'll 
OWN this place inside a MONTH!" The little fat guy, shrunk to less than 
4 feet in height, was being carried out by one of his friends. 
 
Another waitress, this one a dark, skinny, Bangledeshi girl, had managed 
to put a guy's hand on her aureola when he wasn't looking.  He pulled 
away before he lost too much size, but the skinny girl had grown 
curvaceous and athletically built in the 10 or 15 seconds that he'd been 
in contact.  She flexed her now-golfball sized biceps and felt her 
enlarged breasts, which had expaned from B-cups to genuine "hooters". 
 
The rest of the customers in the bar started running out, afraid that 
what had happened to Mike, Polly and the fat kid would happen to them, 
too.  Waitresses chased after them, but none managed to get any 
significant growth for their trouble, except the Bangledeshi girl.  She 
got a black eyeand a fat-lip to go with her new muscles and tits when 
she tried to force herself on a big guy in a three-piece suit.  His fist 
contacting her lips released quite a bit of electricity, but only lasted 
a half-second.   Still, when she got up of the floor, the dark girl 
looked to be about as large and strong as most of the men in the 
restaurant, and her breasts had ripped the tank top down the front.  Her 
shoulders had expanded to considerable  width, and her calves and hips 
looked extremely powerful.  Her abdomen was as bumpy as a waffle, and 
she began using her muscular, engorged arms to pound her fists against 
it.  "I'm as hard as a rock!" she said.  Her large, firm breasts rippled 
voluptuously each time she pounded her solid abdomen.  
 
As things quieted down,  all the waitresses gathered around and felt 
Teri's huge new muscles.  The formerly-scrawny blonde seemed to be 
completely absorbed in her radically enhanced body. 
 
Teri began testing her strength by doing one-arm curls of the other 
waitresses.  She had two clinging to each forearm, and proceeded to pump 
them up and down in the air.  Jennie looked up at her, and was 
captivated by her almost  supernatural beauty.  Her firm, enormous 
breasts alone would have made her famous, but add in her angelic face 
and her long, shapely, muscular body, and she looked made to star in 
"Baywatch meets American Gladiators."  A twinge of fear, colored by 
lust, rushed through Jennie when she realized that by absorbing most of 
the strength of two massive bodybuilders, Teri was now considerably 
stronger even than she.   
 
In curiosity, Teri flexed her left arm and watched as a canteloupe-sized 
wedge of muscle surged up, tearing through what was left of her 
"stretch" tank top sleeve.  Veins popped out of her arm, racing along 
the top of her bicep down through her elbow joint, and exploding in a 
web of vascular muscle mass that protruded  dramatically from the former 
cheerleader's forearm. 
 
"Well I'll be dipped in shit..." she said, amazed at her sudden 
muscularity, and delighted that her breasts had grown as much as her 
muscles.   
 
"I've created a monster," Jennie whispered. 
 
"I...I'm a GODDESS," Teri stuttered. 
 
"What's the difference?" Jennie wondered. 
 
Teri looked at Jennie and said, "You're strong, too.  How'd this happen 
to me?"   
 
"I don't know," Jennie said, lying, "I'm just a professional bowler 
going from Philly to New York.  But I'll tell you, one thing I've 
learned in all the bowling alleys I've been in -- when there's a brawl, 
take your ball and get lost before the cops arrive."  And with that, 
Jennie grabbed the OOPA and made best possible speed away from Maple 
Shade, New Jersey. 

On the way back to camp, Jennie couldn't help but think about the 
multiple disasters she'd brought about just by bringing the OOPA into 
close contact with people.  "If the women want the muscles and great-big 
tatas, well, that's fine...but I've probably ruined the lives of a bunch 
of men tonight, not to mention that female bodybuilder." 

Jennie finally reached the camp at about 2 a.m.  She was surprised to 
see a helicopter landing at the dig-site, and decided to drive past the 
entrance and hide her car in a fire trail.  She got out of her jeep and 
snuck through the woods to see what was happening. 

As she came through the brush, she could see that the helicopter had 
landed near the henge; its rotor was just coming to a stop.  Another 
helicopter had landed further back, near the tent.  Both had the words, 
"Namoza Corp." written on them. 

Jennie watched as a group of women, LARGE women, got out of the 
helicopter that was just landing, and made their way to the tent.  All 
but one went inside. 

Slowly, Jennie circled the clearing until she was only a few feet from 
the back of the tent.  Listening closely, she could hear the 
conversation that was going on within.  She heard a woman with a deep, 
authoritative voice speaking, "Frankly, we considered this location, in 
New Jersey, to be an extreme long shot.  We were focused on several digs 
in Central America, one in the Yucatan particularly.  While we were 
aware that Qoataxatata had visited this part of the continent, we did 
not realize that this crude circle of monoliths was her final resting 
place.   If we had so suspected, rest assured we would have assigned a 
team of more experienced female archaeologists, as well as security, to 
this location." 

"But why," Jennie recognized the voice as Monica's, "do the 
archaeologists need to be women?  And why have you handcuffed us?" 

"HANDCUFFED!?" Jennie thought, "What is going ON  here?" 

"We need women archaeologists, my dear, because the  remains of the 
demigoddess Qoataxatata may contain the key to transforming the female 
gender into the dominant one on this planet.  Men would not be expected 
to cooperate with this objective.  And we have handcuffed you, and are 
holding you under armed guard because you, Monica, have clearly been the 
beneficiary of some miraculous transformation since you came to this 
place.  You are taller, more shapely and attractive generally, and  seem 
to have developed a musculature that would be nearly the equal of a 
fully developed man of average build.  And you refuse to tell us how you 
have accomplished this feat.  Also, the third member of your party, the 
weakling, is nowhere to be found, and you refuse to cooperate in helping 
us locate her.  And lastly, you are handcuffed because an artifact from 
the digsite, which may well have been the source of Qoataxatata's power 
is MISSING."  "Why," the authoritative woman continued, "will you not 
help us locate the artifact?" 

"We don't know where it is!  We don't know where Jennie is!  We don't 
know HOW Monica got so...so big.  That's all the truth!" Jennie heard 
Tiffany protest. 

"If it is the truth, then you are fools who have been betrayed by your 
associate.  Now that the influence of Qoataxatata has been reintroduced 
to the world, women WILL begin to achieve dominance.  But for it to be 
MOST satisfactory, I need to direct the  campaign.  I need to possess 
Qoataxatata's strength and power.  And when I do, those who have 
assisted me will be awarded with the strength of a dozen men apiece.  
And those women who have resisted me will find themselves unstrengthened 
-- left to be weak in a society where powerful women are the norm, and 
small, weak men the standard." 

Jennie shivered, "I like the world just the way it is," she thought.  

"Ms. Namoza!" an umfamiliar voice said,  "We're receiving a report from 
Information Services!  Goddess!  There are reports of multiple amazonic 
transformations in Camden County, less than an hour south of here!  One 
petite woman, a Hooter's waitress," several of the Namoza crew made 
gagging sounds, "has become  a giantess of six and half feet (200cm) in 
height!  They report that she physically overwhelmed half a dozen 
policemen before she was rendered unconscious with Taser guns and pepper 
gas.  Two other waitresses experienced similar transformations, as well 
as a high school girl who lives nearby, a woman in a male strip club, 
and seven women from a go-go bar." 

"There are also reports of men who are shrunken or complaining of 
symptoms of muscular weakness." "Your friend," the powerful woman said, 
"has apparently discovered the power of Qoataxatata, and is unleasing it 
randomly.  Dominique?" 

"Yes, Ms. Namoza?" the radio operator responded. 

"Are there reports of another powerfully-built woman being present at 
these transformations?" 

"No m'am, but all seem to indicate the presence of a small, thin woman 
carrying around a bowling ball bag." 

"The FOOL!"  Ms. Namoza shouted, "she hasn't had the sense or courage to 
transform herself! She'll be easy to catch.  So you see, Monica and 
Tiffany, your friend HAS abandoned you.  But don't worry, we'll find 
her.  Everyone to the copters, except you, Angela.  You stay and watch 
the camp, in case the weakling returns here." 

"Oh, and bring these two, we may need them as hostages." 

Jennie watched as the woman sprinted to the helicopters.  Hardly a one 
was shorter than six feet (185 cm), and all but one was athletically 
built.  The lone petite woman was only 5' (154 cm) in height, but seemed 
to be in charge: Ms.Namoza.  "Napoleon Complex," Jennie thought.  Jennie 
watched the small and slender,  but surprisingly young woman make her 
way to the chopper. 

After the copters had lifted away, Jennie began to make her way back to 
the Jeep.  In the dark, she tripped over a tree stump and dropped the 
OOPA.  The guard at the tent immediately shined her flashlight in 
Jennie's direction and began running towards her.  It took Jennie 
several seconds to find the OOPA, and when she finally had the bag's 
handle in her hand, the guard, Angela,was nearly upon her.  "Freeze!" 
she shouted.  Jennie began to run, but the guard fired a shot in the 
air, "The next shot goes through your spine, Jennifer.  Drop the bag and 
turn around." 

Jennie did as she was ordered, but was startled when another shot rang 
out.  Angela screamed and fell forward, clutching her heart.   Jennie 
stared at the guard's body, and then realized that standing 30 ft. (9.5 
m) behind her was a man with a gun.  The man walked forward, and Jennie 
recognized him as the bartender at Milo's.  

"You OK?" he asked. 

"Yes, thank you," Jennie said. 

"Milo told me to keep an eye on this place, but I never expected to have 
to shoot somebody. Those women took your friends, didn't they?" 

"Yes, I don't know what to do." 

"Milo told me to tell you that you need to get away from here.  He said 
you might want to go to New York, to, how'd he put it?  'Drink on the 
strength of evil men.'  Whatever THAT means." 

"Milo...." Jennie hesitated, "Milo KNOWS about all of this?" 

"Yeah," the man responded, "Milo knows most of what goes on in these 
woods.  He's a Leni Lenape Indian, you know.  Says he only stays because 
it's his responsibility, as the last." 

"Can I talk to him? " 

"He said it's not safe," the man replied, "He told me that when things 
start to get crazy, you need to bug out FAST. Here are the keys to my 
car, it's parked in the woods over there.  There's $2,000 in cash in the 
glove box.  Now get going!" 

"Okay," she replied, "thanks!"  

She walked over and was about to kiss him, but backed away at the last 
second. 

Jennie found the car with little trouble, and checked the money in the 
glove box.  It was as the gunman had said.  

Jennie made good time that night, and finally checked in to an old style 
motel off Rte. 3, west of  Newark.  She was careful to get a cabin far 
away from the rest.  That night she dreamed of pyramids and human 
sacrifices. 

When she woke in the morning, her nightshirt had ripped apart in several 
places.  Looking in the mirror, she could see that she had grown several 
inches in height, and added quite a bit of muscle to her frame.  Her 
breasts had blossomed, too -- she could no longer do without a 
brassiere.  

"How did THIS happen?  I didn't have sex with anybody last night!" she 
protested to no one in particular.  She went over to the bowling ball 
bag and looked inside, surprised to see that the OOPA had shrunk in size 
-- from the dimensions of a soccer ball it had diminished to the size of 
a volleyball.  "Did I absorb part of IT?" she wondered. 

She tensed her bicep, and was amazed when it swelled up to tremendous 
proportions, larger even than Polly's had been when they arm-wrestled 
the night before.  Even untensed, it 's muscularity was apparent. 

While her sweatshirt still fit, her jeans did not.  Pinching the jean 
fabric, she slowly ripped it with her fingers so as to make a pair of 
cut-offs.  "I can't believe I'm ripping denim with my bare hands!  I 
must be twice as strong as I was last night -- if this keeps up, I'll be 
able to do things only comic book characters can do.  Toss cars around, 
leap over tall buildings -- if only I could put on a pair of glasses and 
be completely unrecognizable!" 

She put her clothes on, rolling up the sleeves of her sweatshirt to the 
elbow, displaying thick, powerful forearms.  She tied her brownish-
blonde hair back in a pony-tail, delighted with the fit, strong looking 
neck that was revealed.  Her ass barely fit in the cutoff shorts she'd 
made from her jeans, and the toned, swollen musculature of her legs 
astounded her.  "I could get used to this REAL FAST," she said.  

The sweatshirt had fit her when she was only 5'2" (159 cm), with a 32 
in. (82 cm) chest, but now that she was six inches (15 cm) taller, and 
had added 10 inches (25 cm) to her chest, it was revealing her bare 
midriff, and straining against her protruding bosom. 

"I need to get some clothes that are baggy; I can't afford to be noticed 
for a while, and this body in these clothes is going to be noticed like 
CRAZY," she thought, "And I better be careful not to flex any muscles, 
or I'll burst right through this outfit." 

She locked the OOPA in the trunk of her car, and drove north.  Not 
daring to take the artifact into New York (what havoc she could wreak!), 
she opted to stick to the suburbs.  In Paramus, New Jersey, she found a 
large mall and parked FAR away from the other cars, as well as from the 
mall itself.  

Once in the mall, she realized that men kept looking at her.  She headed 
straight for the Sports Authority -- a store that sells athletic 
equipment and clothing.  She purchased several baggy jogging suits in 
the size she guessed she currently was, and then several of larger 
sizes, just in case. 

Immediately after purchasing them, she went into a bathroom and changed 
into one.  If fit well, and concealed the more...extreme aspects of her 
figure.  

There was a Starbucks Coffee in the mall, and Jennie thought it would be 
nice to take a load off and have a  latte. 

Jennie drank her coffee and studied a nice-looking couple at the next 
table.  They looked to be about 20 years old, and were both nicely 
dressed and clean-cut.  Jennie was embarrassed to realize that the young 
man periodically glanced in her direction. 

"Are you checking her out?" his companion whispered, "Stop looking at 
her!"  The girl giggled, but it was clear she felt insecure.  Jennie 
looked at her.  She was of medium height and build, and was wearing a 
knit t-shirt that was tight over her smallish breasts, but loose 
everywhere else.  Her companion was a tall, athletic looking guy.  He 
dwarfed her physically. 

The boy was defending himself unconvincingly, "No, I'm not, I'm NOT!" 

"Whatever you say, Brad," the girl responded, "but I've noticed you like 
that type before." 

"What type?" 

"Big girls," she said, "big, solid women. Why, I bet that woman lifts 
weights -- look at how broad her shoulders are.  And look at her 
posture!  She's as strong as an ox.  Does that turn you on?" 

"No!" 

His girlfriend giggled.  "Oh, don't get defensive.  I know you love me.  
I just wish I was the physical type you like best." 

"I do love you, Becky, and you don't have to change at all." 

He leaned across the table and kissed her, but as their lips touched, 
both jumped back.  "Did you feel a shock?" the girl asked.  Jennie eyes 
darted to the couple, panic-stricken.  

"Yeah," Brad said, "I feel a little lightheaded." 

"Let me run to the bathroom," the girl interrupted, "I knew I shouldn't 
have worn this bra today, it's suffocating me." 

Jennie couldn't believe it!  "I left the damn thing in the CAR!  Don't 
tell me *I'M* doing it, now," she thought.  

The girl seemed a little bigger as she walked away, but Jennie couldn't 
be sure, so she got up and followed her to the bathroom. 

When she walked in, the girl was twisted all around, using the mirror to 
watch as she reached behind her back to unfasten the straps of her 
brassiere. 

"Let me help you with that," Jennie offered. 

"Oh," the girl looked up, "thanks." 

The girl looked at Jennie, and seemed like she wanted to say something, 
but was afraid to.  So Jennie broke the ice, "I saw you with your 
boyfriend back there.  He's cute." 

"Yeah!  Brad's the greatest," the girl agreed, "But I think he's 
disappointed that I'm so, uh, so small.  He's likes women who are built, 
more like, well, like you." 

"Like me?" she asked. 

"Yes," the girl responded, "bigger, athletic looking girls. I've tried 
pumping iron, but I haven't really gotten any results in terms of size.  
Although it MUST be working a little," she flexing her small, but firm 
looking bicep, "It's never been this noticeable before.  He likes it 
that I'm stronger, now, than I was.  But I always catch him watching 
those fitness shows on ESPN2, with those muscle girls with the big 
boobs.  I wish I was built like that...like...like you.  What did you 
do?  How'd you get so built?" 

"Me?", Jennie responded, "I use magic."  She smiled.  "Would you really 
like to built like me?"  Jennie stripped to her t-shirt and flexed her 
left arm. A massive strip of Grade-A rock-solid femuscle popped up. 

"WOW," the girl said, "Brad would love it if I had muscles like THAT -- 
you're nearly as big as him!" 

"But would YOU love it?" Jennie asked. 

"I...I don't know, I guess I would.  It's so interesting, the idea of 
being as strong as a man.  What I'd  REALLY like?  I'd like to be a few 
inches taller than I am now, with big boobs and muscles like a fitness 
model, but STRONG.  Really strong, twice as strong as Brad, but he 
wouldn't know it -- nobody would.  That's my fantasy." 

"Well, Becky, it's your lucky day.  Meet me in the parking lot, over by 
the back entrance, at 8 o'clock tonight.  And I'll get you the body you 
want. Wear jogging clothes....loose jogging clothes." 

"O..OK," Becky replied. 

Jennie spent the rest of the day shopping and hanging out, and went out 
to meet Becky at 7:45. 

At 8:15, Becky pulled up, "I almost didn't come, but I decided to at the 
last minute.  This is my brother's, is it big enough?" 

Jennie looked at Becky in the extremely baggy suit, "Do you want it to 
be big enough?" 

"Yeah, I think so.  My brother's about 5'8" (174 cm), and weighs about 
170 pounds (76.5 kg), I'd like to be about his height, but only about 
150 pounds (67.5 kg).  And you...can DO this?  And make me really 
strong?" 

"Yes," Jennie said, "So strong you'll be able to carry Brad around like 
a baby." 

"How!?" the girl asked, her eyes filled with delight. 

"Why, we're going jogging in Central Park tonight," Jennie laughed, 
Becky's face just dropped. 

"But we'll mugged and maybe even raped!" Becky protested. 

"I'm COUNTING on it," Jennie said, "now c'mon." 

Jennie had been careful entering New York.  She had no intention of 
causing any accidental strength transfers.  Somehow, she was confident 
that none would occur.  

The girls parked on West 68th St. and began their jog in the park.  
Becky was clearly terrified, and she kept tripping over the bulky 
jogging-suit's dangling cuffs.  

"I should have worn my own clothes and then just changed," she 
complained.  

"Maybe, but just hold on a few more minutes, soon that thing'll fit like 
it was tailored for you," Jennie replied. 

"I HOPE so, this is mondo suicidal, running in Central Park at night!" 

"Don't sweat it, I'll take care of you," Jennie answered, smiling. 

Even so, they ran around for nearly an hour before they came upon any 
trouble.  As they were running under a bridge, two men stepped out in 
front of them.  Jennie stepped in front of Becky, to defend her against 
the attack.  Suddenly Becky shrieked, "There are two BEHIND us, Jennie!" 

Four men were more than Jennie had counted on, but she was still 
confident that she could work it.  Becky started shrieking, and one of 
the men yelled, "Shut up!"  

Jennie grabbed Becky over the mouth and pulled her in close, "Shhhh, 
everything'll be alright," she said. 

"Good, you're being cooperative.  Keep it up and take off your clothes," 
the leader said. 

"Why?  Don't you just want our money?" 

"Joggers don't carry much.  My friends and I are here for FUN!" 

"Well, you came to the wrong place," Jennie said, "You're about to have 
a very bad time." 

With that, Jennie swung her right fist and caught the leader just to the 
left of his breastbone.  She felt ribs shatter beneath her fist.  The 
leader went down hard... he was unconscious before he hit the ground.  

Two of the remaining three ran towards her. Jennie pulled her fist back 
and cocked the first one; half the teeth in his mouth hit the tunnel 
wall, scattering like chiclets.  The impact knocked the assailant 
several feet backwards, and he didn't get up.  She then grabbed the 
other and threw him over her shoulder, smashing him against the wall 
near where the other's teeth had landed. 
  
Both stayed down.  The fourth began to turn and run, but Jennie grabbed 
him by his jacket's collar and lifted him into the air. 

"Becky, come here," she said, "Kiss this guy." 

"What!?" Becky said, "I'm NOT kissing that scumbag!" 

Jennie thought for a minute, and then decided on a course she believed 
would work.  She ripped off the guy's pants, and then grabbed his 
genitals, and slowly drained his strength.  

Screaming, the assailant shrunk in size and strength.  About the time he 
resembled a shriveled, hairy fetus, she felt the life go out of him.  
She repeated the procedure on the other three, killing them all.  

Becky was vomiting, unable to tear her eyes from the grotesque, 
miniature, troll-like corpses that were all that was left of the four 
would-be rapists.  

"What did you, <YAK> do to them?" she screamed. 

"I took their strength.  I'm holding it inside me, in a buffer, for 
you." 

"But I don't..." Becky stopped talking as Jennie grabbed her by her 
frail, thin arms and pressed their lips together.  

Jennie became aroused as she felt Becky growing larger and stronger.  In 
her mind, she set up a line, dividing the strength of the four men into 
two groups.  Half for Becky, half to be saved for later.  

The strength of two men flooded into Becky.  Her muscles swelled, her 
bosom exploded outwards, and she grew taller and taller in height.  

When it was over, she'd torn the shoulders on her brother's jogging 
suit, and the zipper had ripped loose, the stiching unable to constrain 
her large, muscle-backed chest.  Her thighs and glutes had similarly 
torn the seat of the jogging pants wide open, and the cuffs that had 
tripped her up earlier, now dangled three inches (7.5 cm) abover her 
ankles. 

Becky looked down at her breasts, protruding into space before her buff, 
amazonic body, and instinctively reached out to feel them.  As she bent 
her arms, her large, softball-sized biceps burst through the fabric of 
her brother's athletic-wear. 

Jennie looked up into Becky's face, and realized the girl had grown far 
larger than she'd desired. "Whoops," she thought. 

"HOLY SHIT!"  Becky shouted, "I'm HUGE!  This is GREAT!  I'm, bigger 
than you!"   Grabbing each arm with its opposing hand, she squeezed her 
steel-like limbs, "Brad's arms are like marshmallows com-pared to these!  
Thank you, Jennie!" 

"Thank God I only gave her half," Jennie thought.   

As Teri had, Becky seemed almost orgasmic.  "Give me moooore," she 
whined, her hands massaging her nether regions.  Walking over to Jennie, 
she grabbed her, pressing their lips together, "MOOHRE MOOHRE," she 
said, her lips buried in Jennie's. 

"No more for you," Jennie said, "You've had QUITE enough," and she 
pushed her away.  

Soon the younger girl seemed to have come back to her senses, "Wow, 
Jennie, you really overdid it!  Not that I mind..." 

"Well, let's head back.  First, though, we need to get rid of these 
bodies." 

"No problem," Becky said.  And sure enough, they turned to puddles of 
goo as soon as she pounded her mighty foot down on their shrunken 
corpses, "All fluid," Becky concluded, scraping her shoes against the 
asphalt, trying to get the creamy little man-guts off her inadequate, 
torn Reeboks.  "They're like Boston Creme Donuts."  
   
"Becky!  A minute ago you were vomiting just looking at them, and now 
you're splatting them like cockroaches!" Jennie accused. 

"Well, that was then, and this is now," she retorted, "let's go." 

"Power corrupts?  That's an understatement: this bitch is a psychopath!"  
Jennie concluded. 

And they headed back to the car, they left runny red, boneless smears on 
the jogging path behind them.  By morning the stains had evaporated. 

Becky was now 6 feet (184 cm) tall, and the torn remnants of her jogging 
suit only served to accentuate how overdeveloped she'd become overnight.  
The jogging suit concealed her nipples, but her breasts piled against 
the material, causing a welling up of canyon-like cleavage that ran 
nearly a foot (30 cm) from her chest down almost to her navel.  

Powerful, defined arms hung from bulging shoulders, shredded sleeves 
doing little to hide their power.  And of course her trousers had split 
down the back, revealing pink bikini briefs stretched nearly to the 
breaking point.  

"I'm supposed to meet Brad at our make-out spot in the park in four 
hours," Becky said.  "Why don't you hide and watch his reaction?" 

"No," Jennie said, "I need to be moving along.  Just remember, you're as 
much stronger than him as he used to be than you.  Be gentle." 

"I will," Becky smiled, "Thanks!" 

It was about 3 a.m. when Jennie dropped Becky off at the mall.  She 
watched as Becky struggled to adjust the driver's seat in her '86 Ford 
Escort to her new stature.  Finally, Becky got it right and drove off. 

Jennie headed back to her motel.  When she woke up the next morning, she 
had grown again.  A lot. 

In one night, she'd shot up from 5'8" (174 cm) to 6'2" (190 cm).  Her 
muscles had increased in size disproportionately  to her height.  She 
was now incredibly muscular, moreso even than Teri the Hooters' girl.  
Looking down, she realized she'd exceeded Teri in another area, too.  
Her breasts outstripped Teri's by a good 10-15% in volume.  

Looking in the mirror, she realized that she was now about the most 
muscular woman she'd ever seen, with breasts that could feed a third-
world country.  

The OOPA was the size of a baseball.  

Jennie quickly changed into the only suit of clothes she'd bought that 
could possibly contain her massive frame.  It was a tight fit.  She 
could feel the seams straining against the more exaggerated aspects of 
her physique as she put it on.  She simply couldn't zipper the front up 
more than halfway -- mountainous breasts and the swollen pectoral 
muscles beneath them obstructed the zipper's passage.  

She walked to the motel office to check out, and the clerk's cigarette 
dropped out of his mouth. "He didn't even notice my muscles," Jennie 
realized, "he's transfixed by my tits!" 

She looked down at the little man and handed him the cash.  He made 
frequent errors on the register, and Jennie knew it was because he kept 
his eyes on her breasts.  "Do you mind not staring?" she asked him.  
Even as she spoke, she was shocked to hear how deep her voice had 
become.  Still feminine, it had a tenor-like quality that conveyed, to 
her ears, enormous power and sexuality.  It was as sultry as sultry 
gets. 

"Whu..what?  I wasn't staring, I mean, I'm sorry." 

"No problem," Jennie said, pleased to observe the effect of her new 
voice. 
 
She sauntered out of the office and headed towards Milo's loaner car.  
Like Becky the night before, she had trouble getting in.  She wound up 
having to squeeze her massive body into the vehicla.  She made her way 
to the Garden State Parkway and headed south, intending to re-enter New 
York via the Holland Tunnel. 

Inside of her, she was still storing the strength of the two men from 
the night before.  Somehow, though, the quantity of it had increased 
threefold.  She was holding in her "buffer" the strength of six men! 

Her own strength had increased by nearly that much overnight.  She 
guessed she was now 5 or 6 times stronger than Bill had been.  And Bill 
had been a really big, really strong guy.   "I must be as strong as 10 
or 15 normal men, now" 

Strong as she was, she could feel her buffer straining with the amount 
of power she was now containing.  "I need to either absorb it myself, or 
give it away, it's like I have to pee really bad," she thought.  

Distracted as she was, Jennie missed the northbound juncture for the 
N.J. Turnpike, and wound up, without realizing it, heading south.  

Ten miles later, she realized her mistake.  "Shit!  I need to unload 
this buffer!  Where can I find women who want to get stronger?" she 
wondered. 

Just then she saw the exit for New Brunswick --Rutgers University.  
She'd been to the University once before; there'd been a women's 
archaeology seminar a few years earlier, hosted by Douglass College.  
Getting off, and paying the toll, she followed the signs to the 
University.  Nearly missing the George St. exit, she made her way down 
the curvy tree-lined avenues that led to the area she was familiar with.  
She drove through the slummy, post-industrial waste of downtown New 
Brunswick, beginning to worry that she'd gone the wrong way, when 
suddenly she reached the familiar surroundings of Rutgers U. 

Driving up Somerset Ave., she stopped and asked a young woman in workout 
clothes  for the directions to the nearest gym. "Up there, at the top of 
the hill above the train station, under the new dorms," the girl 
responded, "I'm on my way there, myself." 

Jennie looked the emaciated blonde up and down, "You ride the bikes?"  

"Not just, no," the skinny girl responded, defensively, "I hit the 
weights, too.  I'm trying to put on a little weight."  

Jennie smiled, thinking that the girl looked like a recovering bulimic, 
"Why don't you spot me?  I might be able to help you.  Put on some 
weight, I mean." 


Like a lot of college gyms, this one had very few men, and a whole lot 
of women. 

Not that the women were pumping heavy iron, Jennie thought.  They seemed 
to be sticking mostly to the bikes, and doing light workouts using 
machines rather than free-weights, sweating off the cafeteria food. 

"What's your name?"  Jennie asked her companion. 

"Alex, uh, Alexandra...people call me 'Alex'" the pallid, skinny girl 
responded. 

Alex was about 5'6" (169 cm(, very pretty in an anemic sort of way.  
While she was stretching out, a tall, athletic black woman, who bore an 
uncanny resemblance to Halle Berry, came over. 

"Hey, girl.  How's it going?" she asked, looking at Alex. 

"Oh, hi, Melodie.  I'm great, this is my friend, uh," 

"Jennie,"  Jennie said. 

Melodie stared at Jennie for a long second, clearly awed by her bulging 
overdevelopment.  Then she turned and looked at the underdeveloped, 
lanky Alex. 

"You two working out together?" she snorted. 

"Yup," Jennie said, "I'm going to help Alex build herself up a little." 

"Great, if you built yourself up from scratch, I wouldn't mind some 
lessons myself," Melodie said, waving and walking away. 

"Bitch," Alex muttered. 

Jennie and Alex walked over to the stationary bikes and began talking as 
they cycled. 

"So, Alex, have you been sick?" 

"Yeah," Alex said, "I had, uh, stomach problems over the last year, 
after I broke up with my boy-friend." 

"Bulimia?" 

"Yeah," Jennie said, quietly. 

"I've never understood that, why did you feel it was necessary to 
torture yourself like that?" 

"Well," Alex said, her eyes flashing, "I wouldn't expect you to 
understand it.  With tits the size of volleyballs and an ass as tight as 
a watch-spring, you probably don't have a lot of trouble getting men's 
attention.  I, on the other hand, have never been larger than a "B" cup, 
even when I was overweight." 

"It all collects in my thighs, and I never seem to be able to get rid of 
all of it, no matter WHAT," Alex said, clearly distressed, "So I've 
given up on having the perfect body, or a tight butt.  Now I'm just 
trying to build myself up, up-TOP, so that my bottom seems smaller." 

"I understand completely," Jennie said, "you're letting men define you.  
You're not lifting weights for power, but rather to make yourself more 
desirable to them." 

"I...I guess," she said, "I hadn't really thought about it that way 
before.  But let's be realistic.  I'm five-foot-seven (171 cm), and I 
weigh 95 pounds (43 kg).  If I pumped iron every day and popped 
supplements like crazy, well, I'm never going to be that muscular.  And 
I don't want to use steroids.  Men are always going to be stronger than 
me."   

"But you'd like to be strong?" Jennie asked. 

"Who wouldn't?  Look at all these girls in here," Alex gestured with her 
hand, "I'm sure they'd all love to be as strong as men, but that's not 
the way Mother Nature works." 

"Maybe Mother Nature's been asleep for awhile," Jennie mused, 
cryptically,  "Let's go pump some iron." 

Jennie grabbed Alex by the arm, amazed at how bony it was.  She wasn't 
even soft -- there was almost no meat on her arms at all.  "Christ, 
Alex, how can you even carry your books to class with these match-
sticks?  We'll need to fix that -- try the bench press, first?" 

"Oh, no," Alex said, "I'm not strong enough for that!" 

"Just work with the bar," Jennie responded. 

"The bar weighs too much, too," Alex blushed, "it's almost 45 lbs (20 
kg).  I doubt I could press half that." 

"Give it a shot, Alex, I have faith in you." 

They walked over to the bench press station, and Jennie quickly stripped 
the bar of the four 50 pound (22.5 kg) weights that were attached. 

"Melodie was just using this," Alex concluded. 

"Really?" Jennie asked, "She's kind of skinny, I find it hard to believe 
she benches 245 lbs. (110 kg)" 

"Melodie is VERY strong.  I saw her beat up a guy once, a lot bigger 
than her.  She's always arm-wrestling men in bars, and she wins more 
than half the time.  She loves humiliating guys," Alex whispered,  "I'd 
love to beat HER arm-wrestling." 

Alex lay down on the bench and firmly gripped the bar.  Jennie stood 
behind her, spotting it.  With all her strength, Alex lifted the bar 
from its mounts and slowly lowered it to her boobless, fleshless chest.  
Straining, she struggled to lift it again.  

Alex struggled and strained, but it was clear that she wasn't going to 
be able to get the bar off her chest alone. 

Her pale face was waxing purple when Jennie decided it was time to take 
a hand.  Touching her thumbs to Alex's whitened knuckes, she began 
pushing power down into Alex's frail, weak body.  

Even as Jennie saw long, stringy muscles begin to appear in Alex's arms, 
the bar began to rise.  Exhausted, Alex returned it to its mounts. 

"WOW!"  she said, "all this working out has really made me stronger!  I 
can't believe it, I've never felt so pumped!"  Alex was fondling her 
small, but no longer  nonexistant deltoid muscles, "This exercise is 
really good for your shoulders, right?" 

"Uh-Huh," Jennie agreed.  "But you've only done ONE rep, girl.  You'll 
need to do more if you want muscles." 

"Yeah," Alex agreed, "well, let's get started." 

"I'm not going to make a freak out of her," Jennie thought, "Just make 
her strong enough so she can toss that Melodie around." 

Alex began to pump the bar up and down, marvelling out loud as each rep 
grew easier, even as Jennie added more and more weight.  Her tiny 
muscles grew with each rep, and Jennie watched delighted as the skinny 
blonde began to manifest perceptible muscularity.  The fabric began to 
stretch against Alex's growing breasts and shoulders, and for the first 
time in her life, significant biceps were bulging in her arms. 

About the time Alex's presses were reaching the hundred-pound (45 kg) 
mark, her t-shirt ripped apart above the left shoulder. 

Alex got up and gasped, looking down at her suddenly-athletic, 
curvaceous body. 

"What's happened to me!?"  she whispered, looking suspiciously at 
Jennie. 

"Don't you like it?" 

"I LOVE it," Alex responded, "can you make me, even bigger?" 

"You bet, but let's drop the facade.  Follow me into the locker room." 

Alex danced into the locker room, her athletic legs propelling her body 
with greater ease than ever before.  She watched the girlish undulations 
of her C-cup breasts, bouncing about as she made her way to the confines 
of the locker room.  

"What do we do nowwwww....ooohhh," Alex gasped, as Jennie pulled her in 
close and pressed their lips together.  

In a moment, Alex had grown about two inches (5 cm) taller, and added 
pounds of muscle to her slender physique. 

She looked to be about the size of Melodie, now. 

She flexed her arms, and watched overjoyed as her sleek new muscles 
bulged outward.  "My breasts!  I must be a D-cup!  And look at my abs, 
and my butt! It's hard as a rock.  My shoulders are so broad!  Thank you 
Jennie!  I feel wonderful!" 

Judiciously examining Alex, Jennie decided that she could easily pass 
muster on any fitness show she wanted.  "Hold on, you've got the look 
and the size, but you need more strength, come here," Jennie said. 

Alex's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, "Really?"  

Jennie lifted Alex's straining t-shirt up and off, revealing ample 
breasts and firm, muscles topped by soft, white skin.  Grabbing her 
breasts, but willing no change in size,  Jennie added the strength of 
three average men to Alex's already formidable physcial power.  Veins 
popped into visibility as her rangy, tough muscles achieved superhuman 
density.  

Stepping back, Jennie could see that the radical increase in strength 
had altered Alex's appearance.  She looked now to be a woman in free 
fall -- the strengthening of all the tissues of her body had left her 
breasts with an unnatural perkiness, and her face with the eerie 
alertness of someone upon whom time and fatigue had borne no hardship.  
Even on her face, blue lines were pulsing beneath the surface of her 
pale skin.  Her arms drifted, their weight so insignificant to the 
enormous strength within them, that it would require an act of will 
simply to keep them at her sides. 

In the moments when Alex was becoming accustomed to her freakish 
strength, Melodie stepped around the corner. 

"Witch!" she accused, pointing at Jennie. 

"No dear, I'm afraid you've got it all wrong.  'Goddess' is the word 
you're grasping for." 

"Alex," Jennie ordered, "bring her to me." 

Melodie took a step backward, but with lightning quickness, Alex had 
grabbed her and pinned her arms.  One-handed, she carried the dark girl 
over to Jennie, bearer of the power of Qoataxatata, and set her down on 
a locker bench. 

"Block the door, Alex." 

Jennie stripped off all of her clothing, and revealed to the shocked 
Melodie her amazing development. 

"All your life, Melodie, you've wanted to be strong.  You've worked to 
be stronger than men, and you've achieved some measure of that.  Am I 
right?" 

"Yes," Melodie said, as if in a trance, "you're right." 
   
"Well, your prayers are answered." 

Jennie kissed the beautiful black girl, and held her tightly as she 
spasmed with uncontrollable bursts of growth.  Keeping her eyes open so 
that she could watch the girl's spastic development, the nascent goddess 
was aroused as the girl's spandex workout costume shredded as it tried 
vainly to contain her exuberantly expanding feminine power. 

Helping her to her feet, Jennie was pleased to see that Melodie had 
grown nearly half a foot (15 cm), topping the six-foot (184+ cm) mark by 
a couple of inches.  

Her long, muscular limbs dangled awkardly, like a newly birthed colt's 
during its first attempts at walking.  Enormous breasts spilled out of 
an overloaded workout bra, revealing creamy, ebon fullness, and showing 
the upper halves of her crimson-brown aureola.  

"Fucking A!"  Melody shouted, "Look at me!  I just died and went to 
muscle and tit heaven!  Alex, you little runt, get over here and arm-
wrestle me!" 

Alex, though smaller and somewhat less muscular than Melodie, strolled 
over to confront the black girl.  

Both scrambled down on the floor, and locked arms.  It was no contest, 
Alex easily pushed Melodie's  larger arm down.   

Melodie was shocked.  "Please, Jennie," Melodie whined, "make me as 
strong as Alex!"  

"I can't," Jennie shrugged, "I'm all tapped out.  And besides, Melodie, 
you need someone around here to keep an eye on you.  And I think Alex is 
just the one. No more humiliating men, Mel.  You could probably out-
armwrestle all but a handful of the men on Earth, now, so I don't want 
you challenging any unless it's a real contest." 

"Ok," she agreed, "Hey, Jennie, what's the matter with you?  You look a 
little pale..." 

"I don't feel so hot...maybe if, if..."  

Alex just managed to catch Jennie before she hit the floor, unconscious. 

When Jennie awoke, she heard in her ears the same   roaring white sound 
that had disoriented her the night   she first drained Bill's strength.    
  
Color perception skewed randomly, blotches of neon   cloudiness drifting 
randomly across her field of   vision, she vaguely recognized Alex and 
Melodie   holding back a crowd of women.  Everything looked as   though 
it were being viewed through an old TV with a   bum "tint" knob.    
  
She reached for the locker room bench to pull herself   up, and was 
surprised when she ripped it from its   mountings like it was made of 
papier mache.  Standing   up, her head smashed into a hanging light, 
sending   random brightness and shadow flailing about the   technicolor 
nightmare locker room.  
  
Everyone looked up at her, slack-jawed and  openmouthed.  "What are they 
looking at?" she  wondered, until she realized that even Melodie was  
looking up, and Melodie stood 6'2" (190 cm).  She  looked down at 
herself, and realized that she'd grown  to a ridiculously tremendous 
size.  Reaching for her   bowling ball bag, she opened it hastily, to 
see how   much the OOPA had shrunk this time.    
  
The OOPA was gone.  "Did I absorb the whole thing?"  Jennie wondered.  
  
One of the woman in the crowd shouted, "Make me grow,   too!  Please!"  
  
Others began to join in.  As Jennie came to her   senses, she realized 
that there were nearly two dozen   young coeds present.    
  
Jennie raised her arm to silence the crowd, setting   off a panoply of 
disasters:  Her outraged clothing   shredded from her wrist to her 
shoulder on the raised   arm.  Still not accustomed to her new height 
and   incredibly enhanced strength, her arm plowed up   through the 
ceiling tiles, severing a sprinkler line   and jetting water over the 
entire crowd.      
  
"Holy SHIT," Jennie remarked, "I'm almost 7 feet tall   (215 cm)!"  
  
She noticed a gold Wonder Woman-style bracelet on her   arm, and 
proceeded to examine herself for further   ornament.  She discovered 
that beneath the remnants of   her clothes she was wearing a bizarre 
costume that   looked exactly like something off the cover of an   Edgar 
Rice Burroughs novel.    
  
She tore off her rags and stood unfettered in her  Goddess outfit, water 
showering down on her.  Her  muscularity and pneumatic endowments were 
staggering,  outclassing anything she'd ever seen by an absurd  degree.    
  
The crowd of females gasped collectively at Jennie's   remarkably 
imposing size.  They began squealing,   pleading for the enhancement 
that was hers to bestow.  
  
"SILENCE!"  Jennie ordered, staggered by the   indescribable sexual 
authority in her voice.    
  
Every member of the crowd dropped to her knees, Alex   and Mel included.  
"Each of you will bring a man of   bad character to the southeast corner 
of the Douglass   Campus at 10:30 tomorrow night.  IT MUST BE A MAN OF  
BAD CHARACTER, a man who would rape you given the  chance."  
  
Every member of the crowd nodded, entranced.  
  
"I will allow each of you to drain sufficient strength   from the man 
you bring such that you become as strong   as he, and he as weak as you.  
I will not allow you to   absorb the strength of GOOD men.  Bring the 
worst,   strongest men you can find, girls.  Tell no one of   this.  I 
am Qoataxatata, and I HAVE SPOKEN."  
  
"Alexandra, Melodie, attend me."  
  
"Y-yes Jen..., uh, Qoataxatata?" Alex whispered.  
  
"Come with me."  
  
Jennie strode out the locker room, her shoulders and   head challenging 
the dimensions of the door frame.    Her gold mesh bikini top provided 
tremendous support,   but even still, her mammoth breasts swayed and 
bounced   with an obscene voluptuousness.  "I look like the   earth 
mother on steroids," Jennie thought.  
  
Jennie walked to her car and told Alex and Mel to get   in.  Her 
presence on the open street caused a  tremendous commotion, two cars 
collided at the  intersection, and both drivers got out and stared at  
her.  She realized that everyone within sight was also  staring right at 
her.   
  
It was clear there'd be no way for her enormous body  to fit in Milo's 
bartender's car as is, so she ripped  the driver's seat out and put it 
in the trunk.  She  drove from the back seat.  "I need a Winnebago," she   
remarked to her companions, "But first I need some  clothes.  Where's 
the nearest dressmaker or tailor?"   
  
"A block away," Melodie offered, "across from the   train station."  
  
"And Jennie," Alex asked, "how did you do that?  I   mean, inspire that 
REVERENCE?"  
  
"I'm a goddess, Alex, reverence is a perk."  
  
"From back here it looks like there are a coupl'a  perks," Alex 
remarked, "your boobs are big enough to  petition the Union for 
statehood."  
  
Jennie drove the short distance and parked the car   just outside the 
shop.  "Come on," she said.  
  
The three amazons sprinted into the dress shop, doing   their best, but 
failing miserably, to avoid notice.   
  
When they entered the shop, the 16-year old girl  behind the counter 
fainted at the sight of Jennie.  
  
After waking the young seamstress up, Jennie tried to  ease her fear, "I 
am the incarnation of the goddess   Qoataxatata, patron deity of female 
power.  I can see,   in your mind, that your boyfriend sometimes hits 
you.    Assist me in fulfilling my needs and I will endow you   with 
sufficient strength to repel his assaults"  
  
The girl swallowed hard, her eyes wide, nodded, and   got to her feet.  
"My name is Barbara, what can I help   you with?"  
  
"I require clothing, Barbara, as do my acolytes.    The material must be 
baggy, yet flexible enough to   withstand sudden...strains.  The 
stitching must also   be durable."  
  
"Sounds like you want a cotton/lycra weave, I've got   50 yards of it in 
the back.  Let me get your   measurements.  I'll take you first, 
Miss...Coax   Tatas?"  
  
"Qoataxatata," Jennie corrected, "but you may call me   Jennie."  
  
"Okay, let's see, you're...six-foot-nine (207 cm),   your chest is, 
<gulp> 53 (136 cm) inches beneath the   bustline, 72 inches (185 
cm)across the breasts  That   makes you an <gulp gulp> 'N' Cup.   Wow."  
  
"Waist 38 (95 cm), Hips 52 (130 cm), your inseam is,   uh, 40 (102 cm), 
and your neck is 20 (56 cm)inches   around."  
  
"You're arms are pretty, uh, big.  Why don't you flex   so that I can 
take them into account."  Jennie flexed   her arm, and Barbara reached 
up from her position on   the stool, ready to measure.  
  
"Wait," Jennie said.  She began flexing again and   again, pumping her 
arms in the air.  Each time, her   biceps and triceps bulged larger and 
larger.  The law  of diminishing returns finally kicked in, but not   
before all three onlookers' faces had taken on  expressions of complete 
shock.    
  
"Thirty....six inches (92 cm) around.  Holy Christ,"   Barbara offered, 
flexing her own 7 inches (18 cm) of   silly-putty consistency upper arm 
in comparison.  
  
"I'm going to need some help getting the fabric ready,   could one of 
you muscle girls help me carry it in?"   Barbara asked.  
  
Jennie grabbed Barbara by the back of her trousers and   held her aloft 
before her.  Feeling the strength of   several men within her buffer, 
she said to Barbara,   "You're not going to need any help."  
  
With her free left hand, she unbuttoned the entranced   Barbara's 
blouse, and then unzipped the fly on her   trousers.  Adjusting her 
right hand's grip so that her   thumb plunged deep into Barbara's 
vagina, she arched  it to unerringly poke at her G-Spot.  Her left 
hand's  thumb and pinky compressed Barbara's girlish bosom so  that her 
index and ring fingers connected to the  nipples.    
  
Somehow she knew that this was the best and most   efficient way to 
initiate a transfer: positive and   negative terminals.  
  
"Time to turn on the juice," Jennie said.  
  
Blue fire shot out of all of Barbara's mucus   membranes, suffusing her 
in a glowing haze that   reflected off of the sweaty film that covered 
her   skin.  She grew like kudzu in Georgia clay.    
  
Hard, defined muscles erupted through her clothing,   even as stringy 
pectoral muscles burst into existence   on her naked chest, struggling 
to free her swelling   breasts from Jennie's grasp.  
  
After about 20 seconds, Jennie set Barbara down, still  trembling, steam 
rolling off her vastly improved body.   When she stood up, her wet, 
unbuttoned blouse clinging  to the eruption of vascular and lactiferous 
tissues  below. She stood nearly 6 feet (185 cm-)in height, and  her 
jeans clung to her ass and legs as if they'd been   painted on, the 
cuffs torn to shreds just below her   knees.  "My God," Barbara said, 
"Look at me!  And my   pants!  I don't know how I'll be able to get 
these   off."   
  
Barbara flexed her right arm and gasped.  "It's bigger   than my 
boyfriend's!"  Grabbing the tape measure and   quickly spooling it 
around, "16 inches (41 cm)!?     Holy shit!  And FEEL it, it's twice as 
hard as his,   too.  I'm stronger than my boyfriend!  I'm STRONGER  than 
my BOYFRIEND!"  
  
Striking an impressive double-bicep that caused her   blouse to be 
pulled backward and leave her enormous   breasts exposed for the first 
time, Barbara cackled   wickedly.  "Wait till the next time he picks on 
me!    And best of all," she said, cupping her exploded mams,   "he'll 
never notice my new muscles 'til it's too late,   his eyes will be stuck 
to my new 'E' cups!"  
  
It took Barbara a few hours to whip up matching   outfits for her three 
new companions and herself.    When it was done, and they were all 
wearing their new   costumes, they looked like a members of a college   
basketball team.  
  
Having six hours to kill, the four amazons removed   themselves to a 
secure location, a dark pub catty   corner from the gym where the day's 
earlier antics had   transpired.  
  
Jennie was telling the girls the story of the last few   days, including 
her sporadic growth spurts, and the   Namoza Corp. conspiracy.  
  
"I agree with her!"  Melodie argued.  "Men should be   weaker than 
women, look at how they abuse us!"    
  
"That's true, Mel," Jennie argued, "but why would it   be different if 
WE were stronger?  Don't you think  powerful women might abuse men?"    
  
"Who cares?" Melodie retorted.  
  
"It's not gender, it's empathy," Alex concluded.  "You   need to make 
BAD people weak, so they can't hurt   others."  
  
"Exactly," Jennie agreed, "and that's why we're luring   the scummiest, 
most abusive guys in town to campus   tomorrow night."  
  
"You can TELL that they're scum?" Melodie asked.  
  
"Yes....somehow."  Jennie pointed to a couple sitting   at the bar, 15 
feet (4.6 m) away.  "See them?"  
  
All four examined the couple.  Both were dressed in   "biker" style: 
black leather, white cotton.  "Guy   looks like a real scumbag, right?"  
  
Everyone agreed that he did.  
  
"He's not.  He never cheats, he never hits.  She,   however, fucks 
around on him all the time, and she   knocked him unconscious with a 
frying pan last week,"   Jennie said.  "The power relationship there is   
perfect, to make him weak and her strong would not be  the right thing 
to do."  
  
"That yuppie bodybuilder guy over there, however," she  pointed to a 
powerful, muscular guy in a polo shirt  sitting with an attractive, big 
chested, skinny girl,  "raped a girl two years ago, and slapped his  
girlfriend, sitting with him, around last month when  she told him she 
was pregnant.  She's since aborted  the fetus, and hasn't slept more 
than 2 hours a night  since."  
  
"I've been watching them since I came in.  If he   kisses her, she's 
going to have a lot more going for   her than big tits and a pretty 
face."  
  
All the girls laughed.   
  
They sat around, telling stories and laughing.  Around   sunset, the 
other girls noticed Jennie's head jerk   suddenly to the entrance.    
  
"What, what is it?" Barbara asked.    
  
"Nothing," Jennie said, "I thought I saw somebody I   knew."  
  
"But it wasn't her," she lied.  
   
Jennie peeled off $500 from her wad.  I want you guys   to get out of 
here, now, and meet me in Washington,   D.C. in five days at Fletcher's 
Boathouse, on the   Potomac near the south end of Arizona Avenue.    
  
The three girls nodded, aware that something odd had   just happened, 
but not suspecting the truth, that   Jennie had just seen Regina Namoza 
walking by outside   the bar.     
  
"Jennie, before we go, I think I should tell you  soemthing," Alex said, 
"In the last few hours, just  SITTING with you, I've gotten stronger.  
Not the 20- fold increase you gave me before, but maybe another 10  
percent since we came in here - I can feel it.  Is it  possible you make 
women stronger just by being NEAR  them?"  
  
"I don't know," Jennie responded, "we'll need to test  that.  Barbara, 
Melodie, do you feel stronger since  coming in here?"  
  
"Maybe," Melodie said, "it's hard to tell, I've gotten  so STRONG today, 
I couldn't honestly say about small  changes."  
  
"Me too," Barbara agreed, "maybe I'll be able to tell  later.  I'm going 
to head home now and arm-wrestle my  boyfriend."  
  
After her associates left, Jennie ordered a Guinness.    She took a long 
time drinking it, concentrating on the  yuppie and his big-boobed 
girlfriend at the bar.  "If these powers work in different ways than I'd  
thought, maybe I can affect a strength transfer  without physical 
contact...."  
  
Suddenly, the big chested girl looked as if she was  experiencing 
extreme pleasure.  She arched her back  and stretched her arms behind 
her.  Her large breasts  surged forward, and a number of eyes in the bar  
covertly examined them.  After a few seconds of  pressure, a button 
popped off her blouse and poked her  boyfriend in the face.  
  
"What the hell was THAT!?" He exclaimed.  
  
"I...I don't KNOW," she whispered, "My breasts are,  tingly, 
they're...ohmyGOD...they're bigger!"  
  
"Holy SHIT!  They ARE bigger, Stephanie" he agreed,  "and...and they're 
growing!  Look at them!  This is  great!  I can't wait till my friends 
see you like  this!  Nobody's got tits like yours, now!"  
  
Half the bar was staring at the girl's swelling bosom  as it visibly 
inflated.  "Oh, no!  They were too big  already!" she complained, "I'm a 
freak.  What am I  going to do?  They were already too much weight for 
me  to carry around."  "Although," she thought, "actually,  they don't 
feel THAT heavy."  
  
Steve was licking his lips, as his formerly 'D' cupped  girlfriend 
swelled into the 'F' cup category.  "I've  never even seen breasts that 
big before, Stef..." he  reached out and grabbed her swollen mams, "and 
they're  firmer, too!"  
  
"Steve!  Not in public...people are watching, please,"  she whined.    
  
"Shut up," he grabbed her wrist and twisted it, "let's  go home - I want 
to tit-fuck you."  
  
"Owww...OWWWW, NO!" she cried, when suddenly she  managed to pull her 
arm away from him.  
  
"STEVE, you jerk!  I should....uh, oooohh, my whole  body feels so, so 
GOOOOD....Steve, so STRONG" the  voluptuous girl said, "LOOK!  It's not 
just my breasts  that have grown, look at my arms and legs!  I've got  
muscles!"  She flexed her arm, and a small-but- powerful looking bicep 
swelled up.  "My body looks  like I've been pumping iron for years!  I 
could  compete in a bodybuilding contest with these muscles,  don't you 
think?  And I think I'm still growing!  I  feel so strong, and my whole 
body feels so hard!  I  should have started lifting weights YEARS ago!  
Don't  I look good?"  
  
Steve got up off his stool, and took a few steps  backward, shocked.  No 
longer watching his  girlfriend's growing bosom, he began nervously  
watching the swelling, hardening deltoids and biceps  her sleeveless 
dress left exposed.  He began to show  signs of anxiety.  "Uh...yeah," 
he agreed, "you look  great."    
  
Veins began to pop up beneath her skin as the muscles  beneath began to 
achieve a level of density more  commmon to males, but still her muscles 
swelled and  grew.  
  
"I AM still growing, and I feel incredibly strong!"  Stephanie blurted 
out.  
  
Unconsciously, Steve flexed and grabbed his own left  bicep, then 
shifted his hand's position as a person  might when having trouble 
finding a pulse.  Panic  washed across his face.  
  
His girlfriend smiled, "I don't know if it's just  because I'm getting 
so much bigger, but...you look  smaller to me.  Even...weaker.  A lot 
weaker."  
  
Stephanie got off her stool and approached her  dwindling boyfriend.  
"I'm only a few inches shorter  than you!  I used to be nearly a foot 
(31 cm) less,  and you ARE shrinking!  Look at how baggy your clothes  
are getting.  Your arms aren't stretching your sleeves  anymore."  
  
"Stay away from me!" he protested.  
  
She grabbed him by his upper arms, "Your muscles have  shrunk, too!  HA 
HA!  They're starting to feel like a  girl's arms, Steve, small and 
soft, if this keeps up,  I'll be STRONGER than you in no time!"  
 
"No....NO!" he shouted. 
  
"Somehow, I'm stealing your strength!   You're getting  weaker, and I'm 
getting stronger!  I'll bet I'm going  to get as strong as you were, and 
you're going to be  as weak as I was!"  
  
"Look at you!  All that iron pumping you do, and you  don't look any 
stronger than a regular guy anymore,"  Stephanie gloated, "In fact, 
you're starting to look  kind of like those puny guys you make fun of.  
I, on  the other hand, am beginning to look like a Ms.  Universe 
contender."  
   
"Let me go, let me GO!" he screamed.  Steve struggled  to get away from 
her, but Stephanie held him fast;  they were too equally matched for him 
to throw her  off.  
  
Suddenly, the seams of Stephanie's sleeveless dress  began to snap as 
large, powerful lats and pecs tore  through the sides.  Her dress was 
piling up, wedgie- style in the bulging cleavage between her breasts.   
The definition and size of her arms and legs was  beginning to approach 
male-bodybuilder standards.  
  
"Look, I'm taller than you, now!  And stronger, so  MUCH stronger!  Your 
arms feel like marshmallows -  flex them," Stephanie commanded.  
  
Steve glared up at her, "I AM."  
  
"You ARE flexing?  You are, aren't you!  HA HA!  One  of the things I 
USED to like about you, Steve, were  those big, rock-hard grapefruit-
sized biceps you  had...but now they're feeling like waterlogged tennis,  
uh, ping-pong balls.  Marbles?  Whoops, where'd they  go?  You just lost 
them."  
  
She giggled, "Oh my GOD, tee hee!  I can't find your  biceps, 
Steve...your triceps are gone, too...and your  delts feel like 
tenderized chicken breasts.  You've  hardly got any muscles left at all.  
Look, I can fit  my hand all the way around your puny arm!"  
  
"But look at mine!  They're almost as big as yours  used to be, and 
growing so FAST!  Frankly, I think  those big, juicy biceps look a lot 
better on my arms!"   She reached around behind him and grabbed his ass,  
"Ooooohh, that tight butt of yours has gotten pretty  soft, too.  And is 
that your thigh?  Your ARM used to  be thicker than that weak, spindly 
thing."  
  
"N-no," he stuttered, "this isn't happening."  
  
"Oh, it IS happening, Steve.  I think I'm as big and  strong as you used 
to be, and you're as small and weak  as I was.  You're weak! HA HA!  And 
HOLY SHIT, it's  not stopping!  I thought we were just trading places,  
but it's still happening; I'm stronger now than you've  ever been!  And 
you're becoming a joke."  
  
"You're getting weaker and weaker every second.  I  LOVE this strength, 
and it's even more satisfying that  you're getting so weak, it's like a 
dream come true.   Are you even really a man anymore?"  

"No...I'm not as weak as you were...I can't be!" He squealed. 
  
"Hate to tell you this, Steve-o, but I was really  weak, even for a 
woman - the other girls used to make  fun of how little upper body 
strength I had.  They'd  push me around and make me arm wrestle them - 
they  were jealous of my big tits.  I ALWAYS lost the arm- wrestling 
matches.  And NOW you're even smaller and  weaker now than *I* used to 
be.  If this keeps up,  women will be able to kick your puny, soft ass 
without  even trying."  
  
"This isn't possible," Steve said, "I...I'm a jock!  I  pump iron four 
times a week!  My bench press is 285!"  
  
"Face facts!  You're as small and weak as my 13-year- old sister, and 
getting smaller by the second, Steve!  How does it feel to be a 
weakling?  I know now that  being strong feels GREAT!  I used to be 
weak, and now  I'm stronger than you ever were.  Look at the size of  
me!"  
  
"And you know what," she taunted, "I'll bet I'm not  just draining your 
size and strength, but your ability  to build muscle, too.  I'll bet 
that no matter how  much you work out, now, you'll never get bigger or 
stonger.  You're a weakling for life!"  
  
Steve looked up, ruefully, at his tremendous  girlfriend.  His eyes were 
now even with her  watermelon-sized breasts, but they kept getting 
bigger  and higher, especially from his shrinking perspective.  
  
Stephanie struck a double bicep pose, and Steve stood  on tip-toes and 
grabbed one of his girlfriend's  massive upper arms.  "It's not fair," 
he cried in a  high-pitched voice, "mine were never anywhere near as  
big as yours are now!  These muscles should be mine!   I worked for 
them!"   
  
Stephanie snorted and grasped both of his slender  wrists together in 
her left hand, like the stems of a  bouquet of flowers, and lifted him, 
one-armed, off the  ground, straight out in front of her.  Stephanie  
pressed Steve's 25-inch chest (64 cm) into the crevice  between her own 
spathic, hypertrophied milk-producing  organs.  His pants and shoes fell 
off, and his polo  shirt dangled to his knees.  
  
He closed his eyes and screamed.  
  
"What's the matter?  You were always fascinated by my  tits before...and 
they're, I don't know, 5 times  bigger than they used to be?  I'll bet 
each of these  monsters weighs nearly as much as you do!  Can't you  
break your skinny, big-tit girlfriend's grip, and feel  her up in 
public, like you did before?  Don't you want  to feel me up again?"  
  
She shoved her enormous breasts into his face  "You  should love these, 
now!"  
  
She curled her right arm and watched as an enormous  bicep swelled up, 
easily 25-inches around.  "I've got  the muscles you worked and dreamed 
for, Steve, but,  like most men, never had any hope of building; and  
you," she smiled, her voice suddenly becoming deeper,  "you're the 
smallest, puniest, weakest MAN I've ever  seen.  An eight-year-old GIRL 
could beat you  armwrestling, now, and you're STILL shrinking, still  
feeding my body's growth.  I'm so big and strong, it's  like I'm not 
just taking your strength and size, but  all of your life energy, too.  
You're starting to look  like a fuzzy, purple little prune.  I think I'm 
two or  three times as strong as you used to be."  
  
Steve was now only about 4 feet tall (123 cm), and his  body was 
completely demuscled - the bones of his  elbows protruded sickeningly 
from his arms.  Jennie  guessed that he weighed about 40 pounds (18 kg).  
He'd  weighed about 220 (99 kg) coming in.  His skin had  become so thin 
and frail that it was nearly  translucent.  His weak lungs could be 
heard rasping  for breath across the room.  
  
"Stephanie, please STOP!" he squealed with a voice  that sounded like a 
kitten mewling, "My life is  ruined!  My body's ruined - women will 
ignore me or  push me around!  And you're HURTING me."  
  
"Hurting you?  Like you hurt me?  When you slapped me  around?  When you 
made me kill our baby?  Ruined life?   It's good that ruining your life 
has improved mine so  much."  She tightened her grip, Steve screamed, 
and  passed out, both of his tiny wrists effortlessly  broken.  "We're 
breaking up, Steve, I couldn't date a  man who's such a weakling.  
Although it might be hard  to find guys powerful enough to outclass the 
muscles  you've given me, now that I'm stronger than the  average NFL 
line-backer.  I'm sure women will still  chase you around, only now it 
won't be to seduce you,  it will be to get even for the cruelty you 
doled out."  
  
Stephanie dropped his tiny body on the floor, and  walked out - six-
foot-six-inches (200 cm) and 315  pounds (142 kg)of  of staggeringly 
well-muscled, big  chested femininity.   She was naked as a jaybird, and  
her big tits swayed before her like a pair of  elephants in a circus 
parade.  
  
Jennie chuckled.  "Enough fun," she thought, "now I  have to deal with 
Namoza.  There's gonna be a rumble,"  Jennie said to herself, wiping her 
beer mustache off  her upper lip, "I might as well strike first."  She  
got up and walked out the door. 

Regina Namoza, pale, scrawny heiress of Namoza Corp., daughter of a 
weakling and a circus strongwoman, never saw Jennie coming. 

Neither did her security team, three tall, muscular women she'd 
recruited from the #femuscle IRC chat channel.  But when a huge, gold 
gauntleted arm smashed through the brick wall of "Old Man 
Rickenbocker's" restaurant in New Brunswick, N.J., she knew precisely to 
whom it belonged.  

"Jennifer!" 

"Yup!  She heard, unable to see through the dust that had been masonry 
until a few seconds earlier.  "You wanted me?  You got me.  But you can 
call me Qoataxatata." 

Jennie grabbed the little bitch by her collar and hauled her through the 
new hole in the wall.  Tucking her beneath her arm, she leaped into the 
air, landing on the roof of a bulding across the street. 

"We should have a little privacy up here," Jennie said. "Provide me with 
a reason not to kill you right now," challenged the new goddess as she 
set Namoza down on the rooftop.  

"Here's one," the heiress said, as she sprayed pepper gas in Jennie's 
face, "Is it a good enough reason?" 

Jennie, blinded, roared and dove for Namoza, who'd nimbly stepped aside.  
Regina landed a blow of startling strength on Jennie's left kidney, 
clouding her head with pain as she collapsed to her knees.  Several 
blows of incredible power followed, and a vicious kick to Jennie's face 
finally knocked the nascent goddess unconscious. 

Regina Namoza dusted off her hands, then pulled a cellular phone out of 
her pocket.  She quickly dialed a number, and said, "It's me.  Yes, she 
took the bait.  The target is subdued.  I'm on the rooftop right across 
the street.  Send the copter in for a pick-up."  She folded up her 
phone, and looked contemptuously at Jennie, "Stupid cow." 

Some time later, Jennie awoke to a burning pain in her side.  
"AAAaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiigh!!" she screamed, looking down to see Namoza 
poking her in the abdomen with what appeared to be a cattle prod. 

"Good, you're awake," Namoza observed.  "THIS," she gestured at the 
cattle prod, "is a CATTLE PROD." Amused with herself, she continued, 
"You'll notice that you are completely immobilized.  Your arms and legs 
have been pinned backwards by titanium steel, cuffed armatures.  They 
are certified to withstand pressures of up to 15 tons." 

"I'll break loose!"  Jennie spit. 

"I doubt it.  Besides, even if you did, I'd simply beat you unconscious 
again, you overdeveloped hussy."  Namoza stood looking at Jennie for a 
long space of seconds, and then continued, "You're wondering how I 
managed to beat you up.  Well, dear, I may not look like much, but I 
have the strength of several men.  My maximum benchpress is 560 lbs (252 
kg)." 

"My mother was a circus strongwoman, the wonder of her day.  She made a 
living bending crowbars in her bare hands while wearing sexy little 
sequined outfits.  My father was a small, weak man - with a fetish for 
powerful women.  He was very rich, and my mother found him to be the 
ideal mate.  I've inherited my mother's freakish strength and craving 
for weak men, and my father's money and, unfortunately, pathetic 
smallness."  

"Experiments conducted by my company in gene and steroid therapy, and 
tested on myself, have made me stronger than my mother ever was.  Until 
the other day, when you activated the artifact, I was probably the 
strongest woman on earth.  I intend to be so again." 

"Steroids?" Jennie asked, knowingly. 

"Yes, steroids and gene therapy, pay attention!"  Namoza zapped Jennie 
with the cattle prod to drive her point home. 

"Killing you at this stage, tragically, is not an option.  My 
researchers believe that the death of its bearer would cause the power 
of Qoataxatata to become dormant for a period of several decades.  
However, if I should manage to become stronger than you, and then best 
you in a physical contest, we believe that the Goddess power, as well as 
your new strength, would abandon you and flow into me." 

"How are you going to become stronger than ME!?  I'm not going to do 
it," Jennie spit. 

"Oh, you will," Regina nodded. 

"Never," Jennie said. 

"I will become the demi-goddess Qoataxatata, and then I will crush your 
pelvis with my left hand, as I crush your skull with my right, twisting 
your tortured carcass like a wet towel in beween.  Or maybe, if I can 
drain all of your strength, I'll just let you live as a weakling.  After 
possessing such titanic strength, being puny and weak in the coming 
world of amazonic women may be a fate worse than death.  Mmmmmm...how I 
would LOVE to see these oaken arms of yours shrivel back to their old 
size, or even smaller, and have their titanic strength flood my body..."  
Regina smiled, and pressed her lips against Jennie's left bicep.  A 
small jolt of electricity shot out between them, and Namoza jumped back.  
"What was THAT?" she asked, pulling her pants up as they slid down. 

"The steroids in your body.  The power doesn't recognize you as 
specifically female.  You'll never possess the power of Coataxatata," 
Jennie boasted,  "That brief spark stole 20% of your strength, look at 
how much smaller you are!" 

"LIAR!  My strength is as great as ever," Namoza declared, clearly 
unsure of herself, "The power will be MINE!" Regina stormed out. 

Jennie looked around, examining her surroundings.  She appeared to be in 
a concrete bunker of some sort, with ceilings about 15 feet (4.6 m) in 
height.  When Namoza turned out the lights, Jennie's vision was 
completely blackened.  

Jennie struggled for hours to free herself, to no avail.  Her restraints 
were designed as a strength trap, and turned her own physical power back 
upon her.  The harder she pulled, the tighter the restraints clamped 
against her.  It took several torturous minutes for them to relax to 
their former state after she'd made an exertion.  

Suddenly, a loud siren blared, shaking Jennie out of her growing 
sleepiness.  The siren blared every few minutes, always just as she was 
about to fall asleep. 

Hours or days later, Jennie couldn't tell, the lights came painfully 
back on.  

A woman in a white lab coat walked over to her and injected her with a 
shot in the arm.  Almost immediately, Jennie felt her senses and mind 
cloud up.  "Barbituates," the woman said. 

"Ah, Jennie, you're awake!" Regina Namoza said, walking in, "I trust you 
had a good night's sleep?" 

Jennie growled at her, eyeballs lolling around in drugged confusion. 

"We understand that you've gained some measure of control over your 
powers of strength transfer.  I'm betting that your current drugged 
state will eliminate your ability to restrain the power.  Let's find 
out.  Dominique!?" 

"Yes, Ms. Namoza," a voice blared over the loudspeaker. 

"Release the first subject." 

A door in the side wall opened up, and a powerfully built man wearing 
nothing but a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold was pushed through.  
Jennie could see, through her haze, that he was very good looking. 

Regina Namoza walked over to him, kneeled, and placed her mouth on his 
genitals.  

With all her will, Jennie restrained the power.  But some leaked 
through.  A dull blue sparking erupted between Namoza and the man.  
Jennie watched, horrified, as Regina Namoza grew taller and stronger, 
her slender arms bulging with the man's muscle. Regina's tiny bosom 
exploded with voluptuousness, tearing through her jumpsuit and sending 
bouncing breasts bursting outwards. Lifting the man up in the air, she 
drained his strength until he had diminished in stature to about the 
size of a slender eight year old.  Then she let him go, and the 
handcuffs slipped off his tiny wrists.  She stood, posing with her newly 
enlarged musculature, cackling in a deep, powerful voice. 

Her victim reached up, with his suddenly weak, girlish arms, and lifted 
his blindfold.  Looking up at the now 6-foot-3 (192 cm), muscular 
Namoza, and then down at his own strengthless, soft, puny body, he 
screamed a high pitched wail and fainted. 

Two tall, amazonic women came in and removed him. 

"Train him in his new life-role," Regina commanded, and the two amazons 
nodded. 

"Bring in the second subject," she commanded. 

The door opened, but no one came out. 

"Send him out," she ordered. 

"Ma'am...I have."  The loudspeaker blared, "I don't know what happened." 

"Damnit, Dominique.  I expect competence from you," Regina shot back.  
"Well, I'll go get him," she said, walking over to the door.  No sooner 
did Regina Namoza step inside than Jennie heard a bone jarring smash, 
and her captor came flying back out.  

She arced through the air and impacted against the far wall.  

Alex stepped through the door, vastly larger and more muscular than 
she'd been before, and rubbing her fist.  Alex posed for Jennie, with a 
comedic curtsey accompaniment.  Jennie remembered that when she'd last 
seen Alex, despite her phenomenal strength, she'd had the body of a 
fitness model.  Now she looked like three fitness models, one Ms. 
Universe, and a huge-breasted porn star tossed in for good measure.  The 
meathook she'd used to sucker punch Namoza looked to be about the size 
of a pineapple. 

"Glass jaw," Alex remarked, her voice half an octave lower than it had 
been, "Come on guys, let's get Jennie and bug out of this place." 

Also enlarged, Barbara and Melodie, and then Jennie's friends Monica and 
Tiffany, newly muscle-bound themselves, came running out into the room, 
even as a small number of Namoza's amazons came sprinting into the room 
from the other side.  Jennie's allies had all grown in size and strength 
since last she'd seen them, and she could't help but wonder what had 
happened.  

Melodie intercepted the on-rushing amazons.  Though tall and strong, 
they were no match for Melodie's now-incredibly developed musculature.  
She grabbed the first and swung her around, smashing three others down 
like bowling pins.  Now six-and-a-half feet tall, with muscle packed 
limbs that would have outshone anything ever seen at a Mr., and much 
moreso a *Ms.* Olympia contest, the unspeakably amazonic Halle Berry 
look-alike was swinging her helpless captive around like a baseball bat, 
whacking her attackers and sending them flying across the room.  
Melodie's enormous breasts were forced up and out by the cenripetal 
force of her rotation, lifted from their cloth restraints into the open.  
The cool air rushing by hardened her Monopoly-house sized nipples and 
sent waves of pleasure through her.  She felt orgasmic as she beat hell 
out of the rival amazons, a goofy smile on her face. 

Monica and Tiffany ran over to the back of Jennie's restraining device, 
and started fiddling with it, trying to free her.  "Christ Jennie, 
you're HUGE!  Is that really you?" Tiffany asked.  

"If we hadn't just grown these muscles ourselves," Monica said, holding 
up an amazingly large, canteloupe-sized slab of bicep meat, clothed in 
the ragged remnant of her blouse, "in the last five minutes, I wouldn't 
have believed it." 

"It was so incredible," Tiffany interrupted, "we were hiding with those 
other girls, in that room over there with probably 100 handcuffed men, 
and then some of the men, maybe a third, just started shrinking.  This 
blue...fog enveloped us, and we five all started growing!  I mean, 
Monica and I must be better than six-feet tall (185 cm), and these 
muscles are huge!" 

"Look at my breasts, Jennie, aren't they great?  I have no idea where 
I'll be able to buy bras for these puppies, much less dresses that'll 
fit these...HUGE...muscles," Monica babbled. 
 
"Yeah," Jennie said, still disoriented from the barbituates, "but how 
did you and the others find me?" 

"Oh, we escaped last night, and as we were leaving, we ran into your 
friends.  Once they figured out who we were, and explained to us who 
THEY were, we came back in with them and looked for you.  Just dumb luck 
that we got here," Monica explained. 

"We were so amazed by their strength," Tiffany said, "but now," she 
flexed her titanic arms, lats shredding what was left of the oxford-
collar shirt she'd borrowed from her boyfriend, Bob, and colossal 
breasts, nearly as big as Jennie's, cascading through its ruptured 
buttons, "we're stronger than they were when we first met them.  I'll 
bet we each of us absorbed the strength of 5 or 6 men! I feel like I 
could bench a truck!" 

"When I see Darren again," Monica said, "I'm going to hold his wrists 
together, one-handed, and fuck his brains out.  This new...STRENGTH has 
made me so horny, I feel like I could take on the world.  LOOK at me!  
Even in those bodybuilding magazines, I've never seen women as muscular 
as us.  People talk about muscles being 'as hard as a rock,' but ours 
REALLY are.  We're superhuman!"  

"I know what you mean," Tiffany agreed, "I'm taller than Bob, and five 
or six times stronger, now.  I can't wait to see his reaction to my 
muscles, but look at my tits!  I've caught back up with you, Monica, and 
gone WAY past.  My boobs are as big as basketballs!  And Bob is SUCH a 
breast man, he thought I was stacked when I was a 'C', borderline 'D' 
cup!"  Tiffany said, "I'm probably an 'H' cup, now!  I'm going to take 
his small, soft body in my hands and bury his face in these monstruous 
tits.  He'll love it!" 

Just then Barbara came running over.  Her muscles and breasts had 
strained, but not torn through the cotton/lycra outfit she'd sewn the 
day before. Her chest bounced up and down, back and forth when she ran 
with the strength, size, and enthusiasm of an Irish Setter chasing its 
own tail.  Her bosom's ampleness was mind-blowing.  Crouching down next 
to the smaller girls trying to free Jennie, her calf and thigh muscles 
bulged with muscularity on a jurassic scale. 

"You guys talking about your new bodies?  I know what you mean.  Last 
night, before we left New Brunswick, my boyfriend came over.  He's 
always knocked me around, but what he saw last night scared the shit out 
of him." 

She continued, "His arms were like toilet paper tubes compared to mine, 
so small and thin.  I grabbed his right hand with mine, and forced him 
to arm wrestle me.  I was leading 15-0 when I finally stopped.  Even 
last night, it was like he had no strength compared to me, and I figure 
I'm four times stronger since our little growth session in the back room 
just now.  I can't wait to go to a gym - a REAL freeweight gym, and show 
off.  I'll be CURLING what the biggest, strongest men in there are 
SQUATTING - thirty-inch (77 cm) cannons pumping bars loaded with half-a-
ton (450 kg) of weight.  I think I could probably crush a Volkswagen Bug 
between my thighs.  I always had such an average build, but now I'll be 
the center of attention wherever I go." 
      
Jennie glanced at Tiffany, Monica, and Barbara, fully aware for the 
first time that she'd transformed them into incredibly over-developed 
amazons, at the same time she'd been resisting Namoza's transformation.  
Any one of her friends was now more than a match for Regina Namoza.  

"Where are we?" Jennie asked. 

"Namoza Corporate Headquarters in Wilmington. Delaware." Tiffany 
offered.  

Barbara had run back to help her friends.  The three Rutgers amazons 
were holding off Regina's troops as they began to spill into the room, 
but they were slowly being overwhelmed.  Even Alex's strength, which 
must have grown to nearly that of a dozen men, wasn't sufficient to hold 
off the horde of amazons loyal to Regina for very long. 

Finally, her two friends sprang Jennie, and she lurched forward, 
smashing into the floor.  Pulling herself up, the huge woman stumbled 
toward Regina's unconscious body. 

Picking Regina up, and holding her out before her, she headed for the 
melee between the two amazon factions.  

"STOP!" she commanded, her voice carrying the full weight of her goddess 
power. 

"Regina Namoza," she began, grabbing the unconscious woman by the head, 
"is an amazon no more." 

Jennie placed the unconscious woman's mouth against her own, and quickly 
drained her strength.  The women watched amazed as their former leader 
lost the muscle mass she'd just gained, and then continued to shrink and 
shrink, until she was barely three feet tall, breastless, and with limbs 
that could pass for drinking straws - completely devoid of flesh.  
Jennie took everything: strength, vigor, endurance, even reducing the 
transfer efficiency of her brain's neurons, effectively halving Regina's 
formidable intelligence. She looked like a midget albino Ethiopian 
famine victim.  "Her strength will never return; she'll be a weakling 
for the rest of her life.  No force, no drugs, no prayer will restore 
her." 

Jennie dropped the shrunken former amazon on the floor. "Just say no to 
steroids," she thought. 

"You are," Jennie continued, "ALL of you, now MY disciples.  I expect 
the loyalty you once gave to this puny pretender.  *I* am the goddess 
Qoataxatata, and I have spoken." 

Entranced, all of the women present lowered themselves to their knees. 

"I have drained the strength of the evil third of the men you captured 
to feed Regina's strength, and distributed it to my acolytes, giving 
them strength far beyond the human norm.  The other men shall be set 
free with their natural strength intact," Jennie said, her superhuman 
metabolism beginning to shake off the barbituates. 

"We will go forward from here, draining the strength of bad men, and 
using it to increase the power of abused women," she continued. 

"We will not conquer the world.  We will not institute a new world 
gender order. I would LOVE to save the world, but I don't know what to 
do - and neither does anyone else.  So we'll do good deeds, one at a 
time, and hope for the best.  We'll look forward to a time when no 
person dominates any other." 

"The Amazon Conspiracy will continue, but from this point on, it will be 
a force of light and promise, not dominance and absolutism." 

"WHO IS WITH ME?" 

Every last hand shot up. 

"Good, now let's head back to New Brunswick, I've got a 10:30 
appointment with two dozen coeds and some nasty men." 

THE END - But the girls will be back.