ROGUE GENIE 
      
                        PART ONE - ROGUE 
      
     It was pure chance that he found the lamp.  He was alone in
the cave; the passage had narrowed sharply, and Josh, complaining
of claustrophobia, had turned back to the freedom of open air. 
Kevin, however, had pressed on until the passage cramped even his
slender, 5'4" frame.  He was turning to leave when a tiny,
instantaneous flash of gold in the darkness was caught by the dim
glow of his fading helmet light.  Curious, he found a small hole
in the crumbling wall of the cave.  A quick twist of the steel
rod he carried opened the hole large enough to reach in, remove
the lamp and drop it in his shoulder sack.  He had no idea what
it was; he knew only that he had to get out of there before his
dimming helmet light gave out entirely.  He moved quickly back
through the cave the way he had come and was able to get close
enough to the entrance to see daylight just as his light failed. 
     Outside, he examined the lamp.  It was of a metal he didn't
recognize, resembling tarnished brass under several layers of
dirt and grime, and was shaped like an elongated teapot with a
small, round cap on top.  A light tap with the rod revealed it
was hollow, but its long spout was sealed, as was the cap. 
Frowning, he shook it.  Nothing.  With a shrug, he returned it to
the sack. 
     The remaining members of his group were beginning to emerge
from the caves, their helmet lights, like his, dimmed or com-
pletely dark.  Josh was sitting on a rock by the tour bus,
breathing deeply and puffing on a cigarette.  Even from the
hundred yards that separated them, his big, flaccid body looked
like it would overflow his polo shirt and shorts at any moment,
and Kevin could see rolls of loose flesh bounce and shudder with
every movement. 
     At an inch over six feet, Josh Langren was 280 lbs. of
solid, shapeless flab and believed in doing everything to excess. 
"Hell, Kev," he would laugh, "if you can't do it to excess,
there's no sense doing it!  Otherwise, just when it gets to be
fun you'd hafta quit!"  Kevin would shake his head and warn him
that he'd be dead at thirty-five.  "Maybe so," Josh would reply. 
"My life might be short, but it'll sure be a helluva lot of fun!" 
Yet his carefree demeanor masked a mind like a steel trap; they
had worked together for over a year, and in that time he had
earned Kevin's respect and affection. 
     "Hey, buddy!" he called as Kevin approached.  "This cave
hopping stuff is for the birds!  I knew I shoulda talked you into
going to the beach instead!" 
     "Maybe next weekend," Kevin grinned.  "Besides, if I'd gone
to the beach I'd never have found this."  He pulled the lamp our
of the sack and handed it to Josh. 
     Josh squinted at it.  "What the hell's this?" 
     "Some kind of old, beat up teapot, I think.  I found it
hidden behind a wall that was partly crumbled away.  Notice the
spout's sealed and the cap won't come off.  It's hollow, but I
don't think there's anything in it." 
     Josh grunted.  "What're you gonna do with it?" he asked. 
     Kevin shrugged.  "Take it back to the condo and try to clean
it up," he replied.  "Might try to drill a hole through the spout
and unstick the cap, just to see if I can use it for anything
besides a decoration for my mantle." 
     "Some decoration!"  Suddenly Josh grinned.  "Hey, guy, this
thing looks a little like those pictures of Aladdin's lamp.  
Think maybe there's a genie inside?"  He shook the lamp violently, 
then handed it back to Kevin, who laughed and returned it
to his sack. 
     "You never know," he replied.  "I could use a little luck,
trying to compete with you.  If there is, he sure isn't going
anywhere, with that thing sealed up the way it is, and, between
the two of us bouncing him around, he sure ought to have one hell
of a headache by now!" 
     The tour guide had finished counting heads to make sure she
hadn't lost anyone and was directing everyone to board the bus
for the trip back to the city.  By the time they arrived at the
tour office, the sun was low in the sky. 
     "Want to come back to my place while I try to open this
thing?" Kevin asked as he and Josh strolled to their cars. 
     "Naw.  Thanks anyway, but you never have anything decent to
eat in your frig.  Gonna pick up a large pizza and crash.  See
you tomorrow at the office.  And," Josh added with a grin, "if
you do find a genie in there, tell him you've got a friend who'd
like one of your three wishes!" 
     "Will do.  Take care." 
     His townhouse was in Long Beach, about 45 minutes south on
the 405, and it was getting dark when Kevin pulled into his
garage.  He took a quick shower, changed into a clean polo shirt
and shorts and, after an even quicker frozen dinner, took the
lamp downstairs to his laundry room.  With a hard bristle brush
he scrubbed the dirt and grime from its surface and then tried to
remove the tarnish with silver polish.  It seemed to work, and
within a half hour the lamp was a gleaming, golden color.  He
took it to his workshop, placed it in a table vice and, with a
screwdriver and hammer, tried unsuccessfully to pry the cap off
the top, noting with surprise that several, heavy blows on the
handle of the screwdriver failed to dent, or even so much as
scratch, the shiny metal.  Grimacing, he fitted the proper size
bit, slightly smaller than the inner circumference of the spout,
into his electric drill and went to work on the spout, careful to
keep the bit in the center of the seal.  This time he had better
luck.  Slivers of shiny metal spiraled back around the drill as
it slowly embedded itself into the seal until it was through. 
     Even before he could withdraw the drill, a huge puff of blue
smoke billowed out from around the bit and filled the small
workshop, blotting out everything.  Coughing, he yanked the drill
from the spout, dropped it and fell backward onto the floor.  The
air was suddenly acrid, and it hurt to breathe.  He was gasping,
and crawling to the door when, as suddenly as it had appeared,
the smoke cleared. 
     And there she was. 
     "Hey, there, sport!" she greeted him, stretching luxuriously.  
"Thanks for the rescue!" 
     She was tiny, barely five feet tall and slender as a reed. 
Long, dark auburn hair fell to her narrow shoulders and framed
small, piquant, strikingly lovely features.  Her voice was soft,
almost musical.  And she was wearing a set of army fatigues,
vintage 1950's and tucked in at the waist, and army combat boots. 
     Still on the floor, Kevin crabbed his way back to the door,
gaping up at her.  "Who--what--what are you?" he stammered. 
     She grinned.  "Who is better.  Call me Rogue.  I'm your
personal genie, sport.  And I'm about to give you the time of
your life!" 
     "Huh?"  Kevin shook his head in disbelief.  "Wait a minute! 
This is impossible!  There's--there's no such thing as a genie!" 
     She frowned prettily.  "Oh, yeah?"  She pinched her arm. 
"Jeez, sport, I feel pretty real to me!"  She looked around,
grimacing in distaste.  "Can't say much for your living quarters,
though.  Is this all there is?" 
     "This--this is my workshop.  I--I live upstairs," he 
stammered, still not sure what was happening. 
     She looked upward, eyes narrowed, as though she were peering
through the walls.  "Oh, yeah," she murmured.  "That's a ton
better, sport.  Let's go up there." 
     She snapped her fingers. 
     And they were in his living room, Kevin still on his back on
the floor, she standing in front of him holding the lamp. 
     "What--what the hell--" Kevin gasped.  "How did we--" 
     "I snapped us up here, sport," she laughed.  "Beats the hell
out of walking.  Speaking of which, are you ever going to get up
off your backside, or do you plan on spending the rest of your
life down there?" 
     She snapped her fingers again. 
     And Kevin was lifted bodily to his feet and held there,
unable to move or speak, his arms pinned to his sides by some
invisible force. 
     She walked around him, inspecting him closely, feeling his
body with tiny hands, and grunted.  "Kinda scrawny, sport," she
commented.  "Let's see what you look like without those clothes." 
     She snapped her fingers again. 
     And he was stark naked. 
     His mind wanted to scream in protest, but no sound came. 
She was standing in front of him.  He could see her reach down
between his legs and then, unable to even move his eyes, could
only feel her fingers explore him intimately.  "Not too much down
there, either, sport, but I can fix that," she murmured.  "By the
way, what year is it?"  She looked up to see him, redfaced and
struggling to speak, and laughed.  "Whoops!  Forgot I froze you." 
     She snapped her fingers again. 
     And Kevin could move his eyes and lips.  He tried to scream,
but could only manage a hoarse whisper.  "What--what are you
doing to me?" he rasped.  "Let me go!  Give me back my clothes!" 
     "In due course.  First you tell me what year it is." 
     "N--nineteen ninety three," he whispered. 
     Her mouth formed an "o".  "Jee-sus!" she breathed.  "Those
bastards had me stuck in there for forty years!  No wonder I'm so
damned horny!" 
     "H-horny?"  Kevin's mind was a whirlpool of conflicting
emotions--humiliation, frustration, rage, curiosity, concern--
but, most of all, fear.  Forty years?  What bastards?  And what
had she meant when she said she could "fix" his underendowed
privates?  "What--what are you going to do to me?" he quavered. 
     She grinned lasciviously.  "Why, fuck your brains out, what
else, sport?  Starting right now!  What would you do if you'd
spent forty years as compressed smoke in that stupid lamp, not
even able to diddle yourself, with nothing to think about but all
those great lays you've had in the last thousand years?  So,
let's quit beating our gums and start beating the meat!" 
     Snap! 
     And Kevin felt himself lifted and tilted until he was
horizontal, floating on that same invisible force field that was
holding him motionless.  She, too, was naked, and floating, now,
above him, her chin cradled in her tiny palms, grinning down at
him with unconcealed desire.  He had to admit she had a nice
body, albeit way too small and slender for his taste. 
     "Ever been screwed in midair before, sport?" she asked with
a chuckle. 
     "No, and I'm not going to be now!" he rasped.  "Let me
down!" 
     "No chance, sport."  She suddenly frowned.  "Hey, these are
freebies.  What kind of guy are you, anyway, to turn down a free
piece of ass?  It's not as if I had the clap or anything--genies
are immune, you know!  And I can't get pregnant..."  Her frown
became a scowl.  "Wait a minute, you're not queer, are you?  
Jee-sus, it'd be just my luck after forty years to be rescued by a
goddam fag!  Am I gonna have to fix your genes, too?" 
     "Leave my genes alone!"  His whispered scream sounded more
like a high pitched whistle.  "I am not gay!  For your information, 
I am strictly hetero, but I'm not about to be raped by some
sex crazed genie I've never seen before!  Now, let me down!" 
     She ignored his plea, wiping imaginary sweat from her brow
with an exaggerated movement of her forearm.  "Whew!  That's a
relief.  I hate fiddling around with genes--never know where I'm
gonna wind up.  The last guy I tried it with got so fat he
couldn't move!  Now, on the other hand, I'm a real expert in
putting a little extra meat on certain bones..." 
     Snap! 
     And Kevin felt his entire body stiffen as waves of sexual
desire engulfed him and his penis was suddenly hard and throbbing.  
He glanced down, and, to his horror, saw that his penis,
normally no more than 4" fully extended, was now a huge, pulsat-
ing pole rising 8"-10" straight up and almost as big around as
his wrist!  He opened his mouth to scream, but his throat was
frozen again, and he could make no sound.  He saw her float down
to him, cover his open mouth with hers, and felt her tongue
intertwine with his.  His arms, no longer his to control, were
lifted and wrapped around her waist and then, as she moved back
to, amazingly, take his massive shaft completely inside her, his
small hands were moved to her even tinier breasts and forced to
massage them while she feverishly worked herself up and down on
his helpless body. 
     He closed his eyes, oblivious to everything except the
mingled agony and ecstasy that racked his body.  He could not
bear to watch himself being used in this way, and he wondered if
this was how a woman felt when she was being raped.  It was not
that he was being taken against his will; for years he had
secretly longed for exactly that, to be overpowered and taken in
love by a tall, beautiful, powerful Amazon.  This genie was
certainly no Amazon, and she was overpowering him with magic, not
muscle.  Even the feelings coursing through his body, wave after
wave of sexual desire culminating in so many orgasms he lost
count, he knew were not his own; they were hers, induced in him
by that same magic that held him helpless.  It was not the same,
and he could only try to force his mind to distance himself from
what was happening to him until, after a seeming eternity, it was
finally over. 
     When he opened his eyes he was in his bedroom, lying on his
back on his bed, exhausted, and she was sitting next to him,
still naked, her tiny fingers lightly playing over his chest. 
     "Baby," she whispered, "that was great!" 
     He tried to move and found that he could.  He felt shamed,
humiliated.  Yet, somehow, the rape of his body now seemed
distant, like a bad dream.  Had it been?  He looked down at
himself and was relieved to see his penis back to its normal
size. 
     She saw his look and laughed softly.  "Don't worry, sport. 
I only enlarge it when I want to use it.  And this time I got it
exactly right.  It was terrific!" 
     "For you, maybe," he said dully.  "Not for me." 
     "Aw!  Poor baby!"  Her tone was lightly mocking.  "Well,
that'll change." 
     "I'm afraid not." 
     She eyed him curiously.  "You still don't get it, do you,
sport?" she murmured.  "I'm your personal genie.  You let me out
of the lamp.  I can give you anything you want, be anything you
want me to be."  She stood up and stretched her small body,
massaging her tiny breasts.  "Back in the fifties, with this body
I could have had my pick of the litter; the guys were literally
frothing at the mouth to get me in bed!  But I belonged to the
guy who owned the lamp, and, boy! did we ever have a ride!" 
     "What happened to him?" 
     She giggled.  "I must have given him a couple of orgasms too
many," she replied.  "The last I saw of him they had him in a
straightjacket and were carting him off in a white van."  She
grimaced.  "That's when those bastards on the Council stepped in. 
They took the lamp and sealed me in it.  I don't know where they
put it--where did you find me, by the way?" 
     "Behind a wall in a cave.  What Council?" 
     "The Council of Genies, of course.  They said I was a
menace!  Imagine!" 
     "I believe them." 
     "Aw, come on!"  She grinned again, mockingly.  "Hey, look,
sport, the first time was for me.  After all, forty years is a
hell of a long time!  Next time it'll be for both of us." 
     Kevin was feeling better, and he pulled himself up to a
sitting position on the bed.  "Look," he said, "you're supposed
to be my personal genie, right?" 
     "Right on." 
     "Okay.  Aren't I supposed to be your master?  Aren't you
supposed to do what I tell you?  Don't I get three wishes or
something?" 
     She laughed.  "That's what the last guy thought.  Naw, that
three wishes stuff is strictly myth.  But, sure, you are my
master, and I'm supposed to please you, take care of you and
protect you.  The difference is--and this is what pissed the
Council off--I do it my way, not yours, and take care of my own
needs in the process.  That's why they call me 'Rogue'.  Got it?" 
     Kevin groaned.  "Great!  Of all the genies in the world, I
get a renegade!  Just my luck!" 
     She laughed and reached down to pat his cheek.  "Cheer up,
sport!  You're gonna love the things I'm gonna do to you." 
     "You can do one thing for me, if you would," Kevin said
tentatively. 
     "What's that?" 
     "Quit talking like a fifties bobbysoxer, and clean up your
mouth.  I don't use vulgar language myself, and I don't like
hearing it from women--even female genies.  And quit calling me
'sport'.  My name's Kevin Delaney." 
     She looked hurt.  "That's three things," she said, "but,
okay.  Times must have changed since they shut me up in that
lamp.  I'll have to check around a bit, get in tune.  I suppose
the army fatigues are out, too." 
     "Definitely.  Along with the combat boots.  Not even the
kids are wearing them any more." 
     She chuckled.  "Hey, the kids were the ones I hung around
with back then.  They were the most fun--and the most virile!  My
guy could go all night--until they carted him away, that is." 
     She was looking around the room as she spoke, and her gaze
came to rest on a stack of magazines on the lower shelf of the
nightstand next to the bed.  On top was the latest issue of
"Women's Physique World", on the cover of which was a full length
picture of a ripped Thea Bennington in a tiny bikini flexing
massive thighs and calves and 16" biceps.  She reached down and
picked it up, staring at the cover in amazement.  "Wow!" she
gasped.  "Times REALLY HAVE changed!  Is this really a woman? 
     Kevin flushed.  "A magnificently beautiful woman, in my
opinion," he replied.  "She's a female bodybuilder.  That's
something new since the fifties." 
     Rogue shook her head.  "Sure as hell--excuse me--sure is!"
she marveled.  "She's got bigger muscles than Steve Reeves!" 
     "Well, I don't think quite that big.  She's a big woman,
though.  Tall, around five ten or eleven, I think, and very well
developed, yet very feminine and lovely, at least in my opinion." 
     She held up the magazine and looked at him curiously.  "And
THIS is what turns you on?" 
     Kevin flushed again.  "I don't make a habit of publicizing
it, but, yes," he admitted.  "I've always been drawn to bigger,
stronger, more muscular women.  And I'm not that unique.  There
are a lot of men like me." 
     Rogue shook her head again.  "That's positively weird!" she
murmured.  "Well, never let it be said that the Rogue wasn't
willing to try anything at least once!  Stand aside, Kev, baby! 
I'm about to go your heroine about four better!" 
     Snap! 
     And in Rogue's place stood a short, massive, female behe-
moth, still barely five feet tall, but almost as broad, with
huge, bulging, oaken muscles bursting and rippling all over her. 
She was duplicating the pose of the woman on the cover, flexing
rock hard, softball size biceps and thighs and calves of almost
equal size, bigger than Kevin's waistline.  The face was still
Rogue's, but was now all but buried in a thick neck and bulging
traps and delts that seemed almost as broad as a doorway and
dropped almost straight down to a massive waistline that was a
washboard of rippling muscle.  Her breasts had disappeared into
bulging pecs that all but covered her wide lats. 
     "How's this?" she asked.  "You want muscle?  You got MUSCLE
PLUS!" 
     Kevin grimaced.  The effect was positively grotesque.  
"I--ah, I think you've overdone it a bit," he ventured hesitantly. 
"I--ah, prefer women who are taller, around six feet or even
taller, and--well, sleeker and more feminine, yet still very
muscular." 
     Rogue turned to look at herself in the mirror.  "Ugh!" she
retorted.  "I stayed short 'cause you're such a little guy, but I
see what you mean.  Can't see this body turning anybody on." 
     "Maybe a male gorilla," Kevin remarked and immediately
regretted his audacity.  She might be trying to please him, but
she was, after all, still a renegade, and he couldn't be sure how
she might react to his attempts at humor. 
     But she only laughed and said, "Okay.  Trying again." 
     Snap! 
     And the woman standing in her place was a giantess, an
Amazonian goddess of muscle and beauty.  Well over six feet in
height, at least 6'5" or 6", she was perfectly proportioned for
her height, with broad, massive shoulders and a wide, deep chest
on which small, firm, perfectly formed breasts were perched and
which tapered sharply to a narrow waistline that was rock ribbed
with muscle and hips that flared only slightly to support huge,
shapely, powerfully muscled thighs and calves.  Her upper arms
and forearms, like her legs, were as huge and muscular as before,
but seemed more shapely and feminine on this new, titanic frame
that was a veritable symphony of massive, powerful, rippling,
feminine muscularity.  The face was still Rogue's, still framed
in deep auburn hair that tumbled to her shoulders, but stronger
and more square in shape, and, like rest of her, larger than
life. 
     Kevin could only gape in awe at this magnificent vision of
feminine power and beauty.  In that incredible instant she had
become the realization of the dreams of a lifetime.  His throat
went dry and there were vague stirrings in his loins as she
slowly and sensuously moved her body to again match the pose on
the magazine's cover.  "My God!" he whispered. 
     "You like?"  The voice was Rogue's, but stronger, deeper and
richer. 
     "You--you're unbelievable!" he gasped. 
     She grinned impishly.  "I take it that's a 'yes'."  She
turned to look at herself in the mirror again, repeating the
pose, and nodded in satisfaction.  "Yeah, I see what you mean. 
Not bad, if I do say so myself.  Okay, let's see if muscle is as
much fun to use as magic."  She stepped to the bed and, looming
above his reclining form like a giant, female titan, looked down
at him.  "You look so tiny, now, so helpless, almost like a
little baby," she murmured.  "I've never had such a tiny man
before.  I think I'm beginning to like this." 
     Her eyes were suddenly heavy lidded with budding desire.  As
he lay there, mesmerized by the sight of her, she reached down to
take him firmly, yet gently, around his waist with huge hands and
long fingers that completely spanned his slender body.  Then,
with no effort at all, her arm muscles almost completely relaxed,
she lifted him bodily off the bed to hold him high in the air at
arm's length in front of her, his head almost brushing the
ceiling of the bedroom.  He gasped in surprise and delight as the
feel of her hands on his body and her fingers pressing firmly
into his soft flesh sent tremors of desire through him.  The
weight of his body against the pressure of her hands told him she
was holding him aloft with only the power of her massively
muscled arms, not magic, and that this newly borne Amazon 
giantess did, indeed, have the size and strength to do whatever she
wished with him.  And, with this realization, he felt his penis
snap erect, hard and throbbing. 
     "Mmmmmm!" he heard her murmur.  "This is really different! 
Yeah, I think I'm starting to get into this!"  Then he was being
lowered, pressed against her giant body, his eyes just below her
own, his feet dangling over a foot off the floor.  One hand left
his waist to cup both his buttocks in a huge palm and mash his
pulsating erection against her hard, flat stomach, sending a
thrill of ecstasy through his body.  Her other had slid up
between his shoulder blades and gripped the back of his head,
immobilizing it, and then she was bending him backward as her
open mouth descended to capture his.  Almost unconsciously, his
arms slid submissively up around her neck, under her hair, in
abject surrender to her embrace while her tongue explored the
inside of his mouth at will. 
     After what seemed an eternity, she laid him on his back on
the bed and then knelt over him, straddling his slender body with
her massive thighs.  Her hands roamed up and down his sides,
stroking and kneading his soft flesh.  He was writhing with
desire.  "Oh, God!" he moaned.  "Take me!  Take me, please!" 
     She was leaning over him, her beautiful, larger than life
features looming just above his face, and then her open mouth was
devouring him, covering his face with kisses.  "You're so small
and soft and tender," she whispered hoarsely. "Your little body
is almost like a girl's!  You want to be taken like a girl, and
that's how I'm going to take you!"
 
     He barely heard the snap of her fingers, barely felt the
sudden, subtle change in his lower body, for she was covering him
now, settling over him and burying his face between her big, firm
breasts.  He felt his legs being spread apart and something big
and hard penetrate his body, and suddenly his entire
consciousness was submerged in wave after wave of an ecstasy
different from anything he had ever known before.  He tried to
scream, but could manage only a muffled moan against the pressure
of her breasts.  Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew there
was something wrong in what was happening to him, but, consumed
in the unbelievably powerful sensations of rapture that were
flooding his body and, with each wave of ecstasy, building to a
final explosion beyond anything he could ever have imagined, he
didn't care.  He wanted only that this moment would last forever. 
     Then the explosion came, with an intensity that literally
threatened his sanity.  He was lifted, carried aloft to incredible 
heights and held there on a wave of ecstasy that blotted out
everything except the rapture of the moment, only to subside,
leaving him limp and exhausted beneath the weight of her massive
body. 
     Only then did he realize fully what was wrong.  He wasn't
inside her; she was inside him! 
     He felt her withdraw from him, and looked down in horror to
see, where his penis should have been, a woman's cleft.  And,
between the oaken thighs of this giant Amazon, a massive, dripping 
shaft and testicles the size of tennis balls! 
     "My God!" he gasped.  "What--what have you done to me?" 
     Her face was a cloud of dissatisfaction.  "Given you the
best piece of ass YOU'VE ever had," she muttered.  "At my 
expense, I might add!  Jeez, is this all a guy ever gets from sex? 
It was over before I knew it was happening!" 
     "W--what--how?"  His mind was in turmoil, the ecstasy of the
last few moments erased by revulsion over what he had become. 
     She shook her head.  "Relax, boy," she told him.  "All I did
was switch genitals with you.  If you're worried about getting
pregnant, don't; I kept the rest of my reproductive system.  I
figured if I was going to take you like a woman, I might as well
go all the way.  Never again, though!"  She looked down at him
curiously.  "What's the matter?  Didn't you like it?" 
     "Change me back!  Please!" 
     She climbed off him and snapped her fingers, and, to his
relief, he was a normal man again, and her cleft was back where
it belonged.  He wiped the sweat from his brow with a forearm,
remembering what she had told him about her last "master" and
wondering when the little men in the white coats were going to be
coming for him... 
     "I don't get it," she mused.  "You want to be taken like a
woman, yet you don't want to be one, despite the fact that you've
just had the best ride you've ever had?  What's with you, any-
way?" 
     He tried to compose himself.  "Look," he replied finally,
his voice still shaky, "you're still living in the fifties, when
men were expected to be the aggressors and women the passive,
weaker sex.  This is 1993, and a lot of women are different
today." 
     Rogue laughed outright at that.  "Ain't nothin' passive
about me!" she exclaimed. 
     "You can say that again!  The point is, when you came out of
the lamp, you were tiny, because that's how you thought women
were supposed to look.  But that's not necessarily true today. 
Today a lot of women--not all, but more and more of them--are as
big and strong as men, some even bigger and stronger than most
men, and like it that way.  They want to be strong and indepen-
dent, some even to the point of being sexually aggressive and
dominant in their relationships with men.  That doesn't mean they
want to BE men.  And a lot of men like me are attracted to those
bigger, stronger women, and want to be passive and submissive to
them, at least in a sexual sense.  But that doesn't mean that we
want to BE women!  It just means that what people think of as the
traditional male and female sexual roles aren't necessarily
applicable in all cases today."  He hesitated, looking at her
intently.  "Is this making any sense to you?" he asked. 
     She pursed her lips.  "Yeah, I suppose so," she mused,
"although it seems kind of funny, when you think of the man as
being the penetrator and the woman as the receptacle, which is
the way I always thought sex is suppose to work." 
     "You can also think of the woman as the enveloper," Kevin
argued, "surrounding the man, taking him inside her and making
him a part of her.  That's the way I like to feel, and, I think,
the way most men who think like I do want to feel." 
     She regarded him with new interest.  "You know," she mused,
"I kind of like that idea, now that you mention it."  She grinned
suddenly.  "Wanna try it that way?" 
     He raised a hand defensively, "Not right now, if you don't
mind.  After what you just did to me, I'm not sure I could manage
another session with you for a while." 
     She bit her lip.  "I can fix that," she said. 
     "No magic!  Please!  It's not the same!" 
     "Who's talking magic?  Muscle's more fun to use, anyway." 
She flexed a massive bicep. "I bet all I have to do is pose and
flex a little and then pick you up and play with you to get you
up and running again..." 
     "Rogue!  Please!"  But the sight of her was having its
effect, and he struggled to control it. 
     She pouted.  "You know what I think your problem is?" she
said finally.  "I never realized it before, but you guys just
don't get enough out of sex.  Tell me honestly, wasn't the last
time far and away the best you've ever had?" 
     He had to admit it was.  "But it's been known for years that
women get more pleasure from sex than men," he argued.  "That's
the way it's supposed to be.  Men get the urge when the pressure
builds up in the testes, and they get enough pleasure to make it
worth the effort.  Women, on the other hand, have to rely on the
pleasure they get for their desire.  It balances out." 
     "Not when I want it and you don't, it doesn't," she replied,
"and I'm gonna fix that right now!" 
     "Now, wait a minute!" 
     Snap! 
     Nothing happened. 
     "What--what did you do?" 
     She grinned.  "You'll find out--starting right now!" she
told him, and, reaching down, plucked him up off the bed. 
     Afterward, she sat on the bed holding him cradled in her
arms on her lap and rocking him like a small child, his body limp
and trembling from over a half hour of unbelievable ecstasy that
had eclipsed even the rapture he had felt before and had left him
moaning with exhaustion, yet, incredibly, wanting more.  "Poor
baby!" she murmured, cuddling his helpless body tightly against
her and running her lips over his face.  "I guess maybe I gave
you a little more than you could handle." 
     "What--what did you do to me?"  His voice was thin, reedy,
barely audible against her massive shoulder. 
     "I fixed you," she smiled, "so you could have as much as I
did.  And it worked, judging from the way you were moaning and
wiggling around under me!" 
     "F--f--fixed me?  H--how?" 
     She chuckled.  "Easy," she murmured.  "I just added some new
sensory nerves all through your dingus--quite a lot of them, in
fact, since I had to make your dingus super big to give me a
tight fit.  Anyway, they're just like the ones in my clit.  Now
you get everything I do, on top of what you normally get as a
man.  Actually, you get more than I do, now, but it's worth it,
'cause all I have to do to get you up and running is stroke you a
little.  Here, let me show you!" 
     She forced a big hand between his thighs to gently massage
his limp penis.  Instantly it stiffened into a huge, 10" pole as
new waves of ecstasy, mind boggling in their intensity, coursed
through his small body, and he became a writhing mass of excruci-
ating desire, clawing at her with his tiny hands and begging to
be taken again. 
     She was, of course, only too happy to oblige. 
     It was dark outside when he regained consciousness.  The
light in the bedroom was on, and he was lying naked on the bed
under a sheet.  Rogue was lying next to him on top of the sheet
with his head cradled in the crook of her massive right arm,
smiling down at him.  "Hi, there, sleepyhead!" she greeted him. 
"I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to come
around." 
     "What--what time is it?"  His voice was a barely audible
whisper.  Every fibre of his body was aching. 
     "Eight thirty.  You were out for a couple of hours, baby. 
Ready for number six?" 
     "Six?"  He shook his head, mentally counting.  "I--I only
remember five..." 
     "Nope.  Six.  Got you twice before you passed out on me. 
Have to admit, though, you were a little glassy eyed at the end." 
     He groaned.  "Rogue, we have to stop this.  You're going to
kill me if we keep this up!" 
     She sighed.  "Isn't that just like a man!  You're the one
who kept begging for more, and now you're complaining!" 
     He stirred under the sheet, and a brief wave of ecstasy
again engulfed him.  He stiffened, his eyes bulging, and then
froze.  "My God!" he whispered, "I can't even move without..." 
He looked up at her pleadingly.  "Rogue, you've got to change me
back!  I won't even be able to wear clothes the way I am now!" 
     Her lips formed a pout.  "So who needs clothes?  I like you
just the way you are!  You're so little and cute and helpless, I
just want to cuddle you and keep banging you all night!"  Her
hand wandered down the sheet toward his crotch. 
     Somehow his latent instinct for self preservation surfaced
through the rapture that was engulfing his body.  "Rogue,
please!" he begged.  "Change me back to normal!  I--I don't know
if I can survive another one like this right now!  Give me a
chance to rest some more.  You can always change me back later!" 
He hesitated, and there was suddenly a hopeful note in his hoarse
whisper.  "Can't you?" 
     She pursed her lips, thinking.  "You've got a point," she
admitted finally.  "Okay.  Done!"  She snapped her fingers, and
the sheet, which had been like a 10" tent over his crotch,
collapsed.  Kevin tentatively moved his hips under the sheet and
was relieved to find that no sensations resulted. 
     "So what do we do now?" she asked him.  "Read books or
something?  I'm bored already!  It wasn't exactly fun watching
you saw wood for the last two hours." 
     "Rogue, give me a break, will you?" he protested.  "I can
hardly move.  I'll never be able to go to work in the morning!" 
     "Work!"  She looked at him in amazement.  "Hey, cutie, wake
up!  You don't need to go to work!  You've got me, now.  Whatever
you need, the Taj Mahal, the Philadelphia Mint, just let me know
and I'll zap it up just like this..."  She raised her hands with
fingers poised for snapping. 
     "DON'T!" he almost screamed. 
     She shrugged.  "Okay," she said, "but if you think I'm gonna
sit around here all day twiddling my thumbs while you go to work,
you've got another think coming, little man.  We're gonna have
FUN with a capital 'F'!" 
     There was no point in starting an argument with her he knew
he couldn't win, so Kevin said simply, "Whatever happens tomor-
row, I need a shower and some more sleep." 
     "Great!  I'll join you!  We can wash each other!  Maybe
that'll perk you up!" 
     The stall was too small to accommodate both him and her
giant frame, so she shrunk herself down to his height, but kept
her muscular physique, now properly proportioned to her smaller
size, and retained more than enough physical strength to play-
fully maul him about under the shower for the next hour.  Sur-
prisingly, despite his ordeals of the evening, Kevin found him-
self enjoying the sensations of being affectionately overpowered
by an Amazon his own size and said so, adding quickly, "Don't get
any ideas, please!  About all I can handle right now is a good
night's sleep!" 
     She laughed, wrapped her powerful arms around his waist,
lifted him a couple of inches off the floor of the stall and gave
him a hug that left him momentarily breathless.  "I can stay this
way if you want me to," she told him, nibbling his ear, "although
I have to tell you, I think I like the way I was before better." 
     "So do I," he admitted, and when they finally emerged from
the shower and finished drying each other, she quickly regained
her giant stature and swept him up in her massive arms to carry
him out of the bathroom. 
     "You know," she mused, "come to think of it, I'm kinda
sleepy myself.  Hungry, too.  Think I'll take you down to the
kitchen and zap us up a bite to eat." 
     He looked up at her in surprise.  "I didn't know genies ate
and slept." 
     She laughed.  "Sure.  When we're in human form, our bodies
are just like anyone else's." 
     Since it was getting late, they ate sparingly and then
retired.  Cuddled against her giant body, his head on her shoulder, 
her massive arm around him protectively molding his small,
soft body to hers, and his feet intertwined with her legs just
below her knees, Kevin felt more like a small child than a grown
man.  It was a feeling he liked.  He was looking up at those
strong, beautiful features so close above his own when, like a
child, he fell asleep. 
      
                      PART TWO - THE JUNGLE 
      
     It was the sunrise peeking through the jungle foliage,
coupled with the night chill as the dying embers of the campfire
gave off their last rays of heat that gradually dragged him from
his deep sleep.  He stretched, his body stiff from laying on the
hard ground.  Then he sat bolt upright, suddenly wide awake. 
     Jungle? 
     Campfire? 
     WHERE THE HELL WAS HE?!? 
     ROGUE!!! 
     He checked himself.  He was fully dressed in a khaki shirt,
jacket, shorts and boots, which he guessed were standard safari
attire.  Yet he was alone.  He rubbed his eyes and looked quickly
around. 
     And then he realized he was not alone. 
     He was surrounded by a solid wall of smooth, deeply tanned
bare, human legs, the biggest, longest legs he had ever seen, the
size of tree trunks, bare feet easily twice the size of his own,
and long, round wooden shafts that were thicker than his wrists. 
Slowly he raised his eyes past mammoth thighs; naked, hairy
bushes easily as big as his full head of hair, and smooth, flat
stomachs to full, firm breasts the size of basketballs that
seemingly loomed a mile above him and all but obscured the faces
of their owners, held in place by narrow strips of heavy cloth
wrapped around massive chests and shoulders leaving their huge,
red nipples fully exposed.  It took a moment for the obvious to
penetrate his befuddled mind, that he was encircled by a ring of
giant, naked Amazon women carrying heavy spears that looked at
least fifteen feet long!  Each spear had a thong tied around its
shaft for shouldering, and were only a few feet taller than the
women themselves! 
     There were about twenty of them.  They were looking down at
him silently, their faces uniformly grim and foreboding.  He
scrambled to his feet and was amazed to see that the naked, hairy
bush of the woman directly in front of him was about even with
the top of his head.  She had to be at least ten feet tall, maybe
even taller, as were the rest of the giant women.  Despite their
deep tans, their features were Caucasian and their massive,
powerful bodies smoothly muscled, yet with none of the bulginess
of bodybuilders.  They varied in appearance and height; the
shortest of them looked at least nine feet tall, the tallest
probably closer to twelve.  Some were blonde, others darker
haired, and there were several redheads among them, their dark,
auburn hair contrasting oddly with their deep tans.  And all were
attractive, a few even beautiful, despite their grim faced
visages. 
     <My God!> he thought.  <They're giantesses!  Where the hell
is Rogue?> 
     Inadvertently he staggered backward, away from the giantess
in front on him, and collided with another one behind him.  He
opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word a
huge forearm and a hand the size of a small seat cushion came
from above him, and fingers as thick as his wrists wrapped
completely around his chest and arms, pinning his hands to his
sides and threatening to cave in his ribs.  He gasped as the
giant woman lifted him effortlessly into the air and held him,
her mighty arm fully extended, high above her head.  Kevin's mind
swam with dizziness as he realized he was being held in the grip
of the giantess' single hand well over fifteen feet above the
ground! 
     With that motion the silence was broken.  The woman holding
him uttered a loud, guttural cry that was immediately echoed by
the others in a deafening, vocal chorus that reverberated through
the jungle and threatened to shatter his eardrums.  Then, as the
din subsided, the woman lowered him to hold him in front of her,
level with grim faced, beautiful features easily twice life size
and framed in long, flowing, blonde hair, and examine his
dolllike body with eyes that now held a glint of amusement. 
     She said something in a language Kevin did not understand, a
short, guttural epithet that was answered in kind by several of
the others.  With a massive thumb and two huge fingers of her
free hand she removed both his boots and socks, and, then, with
surprising dexterity for hands so large, undid his belt and
stripped his shorts and undershorts from his body, ripping them
to shreds as she did so.  Turning him face up and holding him
almost horizontal in front of her, she explored his tiny, exposed
penis, rolling it gently between her giant thumb and forefinger,
and then forced her huge hand between his thighs to cup his
testicles in a broad palm.  Still unable to speak because of the
pressure of her hand around his chest, Kevin could only blush
with embarrassment, for he knew they must have looked like
marbles to these titanic women.  And it didn't help when the
entire tribe of giant women burst into thunderous laughter at the
sight of his undersized genitals. 
     <ROGUE!  GODDAMMIT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME!?!  AND WHERE
THE HELL ARE YOU!?!>  But, like the police, there never seemed to
be a genie around when he needed one... 
     The giant, blonde Amazon transferred his small body to her
other hand, her huge fingers completely encircling both his waist
and hips, and unceremoniously ripped off his jacket and undershirt, 
leaving him completely naked.  Another of the giant women
stepped forward holding a large sack of heavy fabric into which
the giantess holding Kevin, after gripping his chest and arms
again to again pin his hands to his sides, lowered him until his
feet touched bottom and then released him.  For an agonizing
moment, looking up at the top of the smelly fabric at least a
foot above his head, Kevin thought he was going to be completely
covered by it, but a pair of huge hands gripped his body through
the cloth, and a third giantess wound a heavy, cloth rope in
tight coils around the sack from his neck to his ankles, where it
was tied in place.  The excess fabric at the top was then folded
down around Kevin's shoulders, and, with his arms pinned to his
sides and only his head protruding from the sack, he felt like a
Christmas package--or, perhaps more appropriately, a papoose! 
     A second, similar, but somewhat wider, rope was then wrapped
in several additional coils around him and intertwined with the
first to secure it.  The Amazon behind him, who had been holding
his wrapped, helpless body off the ground in her huge hands,
placed him against the blonde giantess' broad back, burying his
face in her long hair, and the excess rope was looped over her
massive shoulders and back under her arms to be similarly inter-
twined in several more, tight coils around the lower section of
the sack covering his legs and then tied securely around her
waist. 
     The entire process had required but a few moments to complete, 
and Kevin, incredulous at the ease with which he was being
handled by these giant women, had been too stunned to speak. 
Now, as he opened his mouth to protest, a cloth gag was shoved
into his mouth from behind and tied around the back of his head,
effectively reducing his complaints to muffled squeals of anguish. 
     After testing her burden who make sure he was secure, the
blonde giantess retrieved her spear and, holding it in one hand,
set off in a fast run through the jungle, followed by the remaining 
members of the tribe.  His vision obscured by her head, which
was twice the size of his own, and her long, flowing mane of
blonde hair which all but blanketed his eyes, he had no idea of
the direction in which he was being taken, and, with the top of
his head well below hers and the bottom of the sack supporting
his feet barely reaching to her hips, he felt more like a helpless 
toy doll than a grown man.  Still, he had to marvel at the
strength and agility of these giant women.  From their size
alone, they had to weigh at least four hundred pounds each, yet
they ran with the speed and grace of gazelles, leaping fallen
trees, bushes and other obstacles with ease.  Indeed, the blonde
giantess carrying him seemed completely oblivious to his weight,
and while he was being jostled a bit by her smooth, rapid gait,
the discomfort was far less than the bone jarring jolts he would
have expected from being carried in this way on a dead run. 
     Suddenly he saw the blonde Amazon lift her spear and drape
its thonged shaft over one massive shoulder, where it banged
painfully against his back, held in place by the thong which ran
diagonally across her wide chest from her shoulder to her opposing 
side.  Then he saw her shoulders flex and her mighty arms
rise as, without slowing her pace, she crouched and then leaped
into the air to meet one of hundreds of huge vines hanging from
the giant trees overhead.  Upward she swung, flanked on either
side by her fellow Amazons, their spears similarly shouldered, to
land with catlike surefootedness and perfect balance on a thick,
low lying limb only to launch herself into the air again to catch
another vine and swing even higher.  Hanging helpless in the sack
on her back, Kevin froze in sheer terror, his scream a muffled
whine through the gag stuffed in his mouth.  Within minutes they
were hundreds of feet above the ground, now only partially
visible through the heavy foliage that stretched beneath them, as
the Amazons swung and leaped like giant monkeys through the trees
from vine to vine and branch to branch with unbelievable speed
and grace, and Kevin could only close his eyes to keep himself
from getting sick. 
     He told himself that what was happening to him couldn't be
real.  It had to be a dream, somehow conjured up by Rogue for her
entertainment.  Women of this size, stature, strength and agility
could not possibly exist in real life.  When the genie tired of
her sport, she would wake him up, and he would still be cuddled
safely in her arms.  In his own bedroom. 
     Yet the painful banging of the heavy spear against his back
felt very real, and he found himself wondering if dreams could
kill... 
     Then the motion stopped, and he heard the women chattering
in that same, unintelligible, guttural dialect.  Then one of them
gave a long, piercing call.  He opened his eyes and stretched up
to peer over the blonde Amazon's broad shoulder. 
     She and her comrades were standing on a huge limb overlooking 
a veritable city in the trees, at least a hundred large,
round, wooden structures, connected by swaying rope bridges,
nestled in the branches of the giant trees high above the ground,
which was now completely obscured from view.  The largest of the
structures, which was also the closest, about fifty feet from the
limb on which they were standing, was surrounded by a large,
covered veranda on which scores of the giant women were gathering.  
Kevin's heart sank as he saw that many of the Amazons were
leading much smaller men on leashes attached to collars around
their necks. 
     As one, the blonde Amazon and her comrades leaped from the
limb to catch thick vines hanging about twenty feet away and
swing easily through the empty space separating them from the
veranda, landing with that same catlike grace in front of the
crowd of giant women.  Immediately a thunderous cry went up from
the crowd, and a number of the giant women surrounded the blonde
Amazon to inspect her burden, poking and prodding Kevin's helpless 
body and peering intently into his face, but fell back at
her short, guttural retort.  The crowd opened a path to the
entrance to the building, and the blonde giantess, followed by
her comrades, strode inside. 
     The room which they entered was wide, but not deep, encom-
passing no more than a quarter of the structure's total space. 
On the wall opposite the entrance was a large dais and wooden
throne on which a huge woman was seated.  Her hair was black with
streaks of grey, and, even though she remained seated, Kevin
could see that she was bigger and heavier than any of the other
giantesses he had seen.  Like the others, she was naked except
for the strips of cloth about her breasts and a wide necklace of
a heavy, gold-like metal around her neck.  It was obvious to
Kevin that this woman had to be the tribe's queen. 
     As the crowd of giant women began to filter into the room to
line the walls on either side of the entrance, the blonde Amazon
crossed to the dais in a few, long strides, fell to one knee and
bowed her head before the older woman.  There was a brief, gut-
tural exchange between the two women, and then the blonde gian-
tess rose to her feet, untied the cloth rope from around her
waist unshouldered the sack in which Kevin was bound, and,
holding the excess cloth in one hand, quickly uncoiled the rope
from around the sack with her other hand and removed the gag from
Kevin's mouth.  Then, before he could speak, she simply turned
the sack upside down and dumped his naked body in a heap on the
dais at the older woman's feet. 
     Momentarily stunned, Kevin shook his head to clear it.  He
was opening his mouth to speak when he felt a huge hand cover the
top of his head and a massive thumb and four long, powerful
fingers extend down the sides of his face and around his jaw and
clamp it shut with a force that made him squeal as the Amazon
Queen, without rising from her throne, casually lifted him to his
feet. 
     Only then did he fully realize how immense this woman was. 
Held erect, almost on tiptoe, between her enormous legs by her
grip on his head, her knees were almost level with his armpits. 
Her calves alone were as big as his chest, and he doubted that
his arms could have reached all the way around her massive
thighs.  Had she been standing, he guessed that the top of his
head would have barely reached halfway up those massive thighs,
and that this Amazon Queen had to be at least fifteen feet tall! 
     However, he had no time to even marvel at the size of the
woman.  Still gripping his head in her huge hand, she turned him
to face the crowd of giant women and, reaching around him, fin-
gered his tiny genitals.  Immediately the room was filled with
raucous laughter, and Kevin found himself again flushed with
embarrassment and humiliation.  A sharp, guttural retort silenced
the crowd, and she turned him to face her.  For several seconds
she held him there, regarding him with pursed lips.  Then, with a
cruel smile, she released his jaw and, transferring her grip to
the back of his head, forced his face down between her thighs and
into her mammoth bush. 
     Scrupulously fastidious by nature, Kevin had always found
the idea of oral sex revolting.  Now, as her huge, solid thighs
closed around his ears and he was pressed helplessly into a bush
the size of his head and a cleft almost large enough to cover his
entire face, the realization of what was happening to him filled
him with nausea.  Moreover, it was almost impossible for him to
breathe, and instinctively, even though he knew it was hopeless,
he struggled to free himself, beating impotently on her massive
thighs with his small fists.  Her answer was to tighten the
pressure of her thighs on his head until he thought his skull
would be crushed and to massage his face more vigorously into her
clit until her juices began to flow and the musk odor of her
desire all but overpowered his senses.  His mind was reeling, a
swirling cauldron of vertigo and revulsion from the smell of her,
the slippery vaginal fluids which now covered his face and the
aching of his lungs struggling for air.  He lost all track of
time as his consciousness began slowly slipping away.  Dimly,
then, he felt her great body shudder and a low, resonant moan
reverberate through her, and then the pressure on his head was
released and he was falling away to lie prostrate on his back at
the foot of the dais, his chest heaving as instinctively he
gulped down great gobs of needed air into his tortured lungs. 
     Consciousness returned gradually.  He opened his eyes in
time to see a giant, fuzzy hand reach down and grip his slender
body.  Long, powerful fingers as big as his wrists completely
encircled his waist and chest.  He felt himself being lifted up
and held aloft, impossibly high in the air, by that single hand. 
His vision cleared, and he saw that the Amazon Queen was holding
him high above her head, a puny, conquered trophy for all to see. 
Suddenly the room was filled with the deafening din of female
voices, all screaming the same, short, guttural, unintelligible
word.  He looked over to see the blonde Amazon who had carried
him to this impossible city in the trees, standing in the forefront 
of the mob of giant women and screaming with the others,
one hand raised above her head and the other pointing to herself. 
     He did not have to understand their language to know what
was happening to him.  The Queen had sampled his tiny body the
only way she could, and was now prepared to hand him over to one
of her giant subjects.  He looked down at the Queen.  She was
pointing with her free hand to the blonde Amazon, and then the
hand holding him whirled in a wide arc, backward and down and
then forward and up again, and he was sailing through the air to
the blonde Amazon's waiting arms. 
     It was several seconds before he realized what happened
next.  A savage call from outside, loud enough to be heard
clearly over the din of screaming voices in the room, like the
cry of a movie Tarzan; the crashing and splintering of wood as a
mammoth form on a long vine burst through the side wall of the
room and swung through the air to meet him; a huge hand catching
his helpless body in midair in a grip that momentarily took his
breath away; the wrenching of his body as, at the last instant,
his forward movement was stopped and he was jerked to one side
and out of the blonde Amazon's clutching hands; and, finally, the
jarring impact as his captor landed on both feet and, holding him
aloft in a single hand, whirled to face the crowd of giant women. 
     A hush fell over the room.  Stunned by the intruder's
sudden, smashing entrance, the crowd was frozen into inaction. 
Even the blonde Amazon stood still, gaping up at the intruder. 
In that instant, Kevin, his waist and lower chest completely
enveloped in a huge hand which held him firmly, but gently enough
that he could breathe, was able to twist his head and look down
past an impossibly long, massive, muscular arm bigger and longer
than his entire body to see an oddly familiar mane of long, dark
auburn hair cascading over fantastically broad shoulders and
full, naked breasts. 
     Rogue?!?  The intruder was clearly another, giant woman, but
her face was hidden under her mane of flowing hair, and he
couldn't be sure. 
     There was a scream of rage from the dais, and Kevin looked
up to see the Amazon Queen, her features contorted in fury,
launch her fifteen foot frame straight at the intruder, her huge
hands outstretched.  The intruder's free arm flashed out, and an
equally huge hand caught the Queen by her throat, halting her in
mid-flight with a suddenness that jarred them both, and then held
her at arm's length, her feet thrashing at least a foot off the
floor.  The Queen opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came. 
She grabbed the intruder's wrists with both hands, trying vainly
to free herself, and then reached out to clutch at the intruder's
face, but was only able to reach her massive deltoid. 
     Still held aloft above the intruder's head in her other
hand, Kevin simultaneously marveled and quailed at the unbelievable 
size and almost superhuman strength of his rescuer.  The
intruder had to be over a foot taller than the Queen.  From her
massive musculature she must have weighed at least six hundred
pounds.  And, with no sign of any great effort, she was holding
his 135 lb. body over her head in one hand and five hundred
pounds of thrashing, female fury at arm's length with the other! 
     The room was silent, the giant women gaping in openmouthed
awe at this incredible display of raw, female power.  Then, with
an almost casual flip of her mighty arm, the intruder threw the
Queen across the room to land in a heap at the feet of the blonde
Amazon.  She lay there, unmoving, her neck and head at an odd
angle from her shoulders, and Kevin was unsure whether she was
unconscious or dead.  As one, the giant women looked down at
their fallen Queen, and then silently dropped to their knees to
prostrate themselves before the intruder. 
     The blonde Amazon, moving with deliberate slowness, removed
the gleaming necklace from the Queen's neck.  As the intruder
slowly lowered Kevin to hold his helpless body face down almost
horizontally at her side, still a good eight feet above the
floor, the blonde Amazon crawled across the room to the intruder
and, rising to her feet, stretched up to place the necklace over
the intruder's head and around her neck, then dropped to her
knees again and backed away.  As she did so, a cry went up from
the crowd that shook the building. 
     Kevin did not have to understand their language to know what
had happened.  In this primitive tribe of giant Amazons, physical
strength alone ruled.  The old Queen had been overthrown.  Long
live the new Queen! 
     With a single, fluid motion the intruder again lifted Kevin
high above her head, a clear gesture proclaiming he now belonged
to her, and the giant women bowed their heads in obeisance to her
will.  For the first time the intruder spoke, short, guttural,
unintelligible phrases, and again the giant women bowed their
heads in understanding and acceptance.  Then the intruder lowered
Kevin to hold him at her side as before and strode through the
crowd, which parted to make way for her, to edge of the veranda. 
There, to Kevin's consternation, she launched herself into the
air toward a curtain of hanging vines at least thirty feet away. 
     His vocal cords frozen, Kevin was inwardly screaming in
terror as his rescuer's giant frame hurtled through the air to
catch one of the vines with her free hand and swing to a large
branch another twenty feet distant.  With only the support of her
huge hand around his body between him and hundreds of feet of
empty space below, he felt like he was suspended in midair from a
giant, swinging pendulum, and, as she swung easily from branch to
branch and vine to vine, he was sure his stomach was no longer
where it belonged; it was back there, somewhere, perhaps still in
the Amazon tree city no longer visible in the distance.  There
were only vertigo and nausea in that vacant cavity where his
stomach should have been, rising to fill his throat with gall and
overwhelm his swirling consciousness with a black tide of dizziness. 
     Then the motion stopped, and he felt himself being lifted
and placed on a hard, curved surface that supported his back and
sides.  Only then did he realize his eyes had been closed, and he
opened them to look for the first time directly into the beauti-
ful, blessedly familiar features of his rescuer, now nearly three
times the size of his own. 
     It was Rogue.  Sixteen feet of giant, massively muscled
femininity, but still Rogue.  And, except for the metal necklace
around her shoulders and the strips of cloth supporting her huge
breasts, she was naked. 
     They were in a huge tree, still hundreds of feet above the
ground.  He was seated in a natural cradle where the trunk of the
tree diverged into three, and she was standing on a thick limb
below, her eyes now less than a foot above his own. 
     He closed his eyes as a sense of profound relief flooded his
mind.  Suddenly his stomach was back where it belonged, and the
vertigo and nausea were gone, but his body felt lifeless and
limp.  He was too exhausted to speak.  He leaned back, and then
was aware of something soft and damp being gently drawn across
his face, large leaves plucked from the branches around them,
cleaning away the dry, sticky scum of the ex-Queen's vaginal
juices he had totally forgotten were there. 
     "Oh, God, Rogue!" he whispered.  "Thank God it's you!  Get
us out of here, please!" 
     She looked at him solemnly, then pointed to herself and then
to him.  "Me Tarzana," she growled.  "You John!" 
     "Wha--"  He stared at her.  Her face was still solemn.  But
was there the barest hint of amusement in her eyes? 
     "Me Tarzana!  You John!" she repeated in that same, guttural
growl.  "John belong Tarzana now!  Tarzana take John for mate!" 
     "Oh, for Chrissake!"  She was a caricature, now, a giant
mountain of female muscle, but still a caricature, out of an old
Tarzan movie.  A very bad, old, Tarzan movie... 
     "Tarzana take John deep in jungle," she growled, "to place
only Tarzana knows.  Tarzana keep John, hunt for John, protect
John." 
     "Rogue, for God's sake, will you cut it out?" 
     She ignored him.  "We go, now," she growled and plucked him
out of his seat like a doll to cradle his tiny body securely
against her massive chest in a single arm that extended from his
shoulders to behind his knees.  Before he could protest, she had
leaped from the limb to a nearby vine and was swinging through
the trees again. 
     This time, at least, he felt more secure.  Indeed, cuddled
against her, his right arm pinned to her chest, in a giant,
powerfully muscled arm greater in size than his entire torso, he
felt more like a baby than a grown man, completely overwhelmed by
the sheer size and power of this beautiful, jungle giantess who
was flying through the air with the speed and sureness of a
monkey.  Regardless of the game she was playing, she was still
Rogue, and genies did not fall to their deaths or drop their
masters.  Whether she was using muscle or magic, he knew she
would take them safely to wherever she was going.  What worried
him is what might happen when they got there... 
     He reached up to wrap his slender, free arm around her thick
neck, buried his face against her shoulder and closed his eyes. 
Time seemed to stand still.  He was conscious only of the close-
ness and womansmell of her giant body and the swaying motions and
gentle impacts as she swung from vine to vine to land, catlike,
on branch after branch of the mighty trees.  Then the movements
stopped, and he felt himself slowly lowered to his feet on a
flat, solid surface. 
     He opened his eyes.  Before him, filling his field of view,
were two massive, oaken pillars of solid muscle nearly twice the
size of his body that rose to join in a huge thatch of bushy
auburn a foot above his head.  He craned his neck to look up, and
a wave of dizziness swept over him.  He staggered, then fell
forward, wrapping his arms around one of those enormous pillars,
clinging tightly to it until the dizziness passed, vaguely aware
that his fingers were barely touching on the other side of its
immense girth. 
     He looked around.  They were standing on a narrow veranda of
a small, wooden structure in the trees, high above the ground. 
Above him, he could see the sun peeking through the thinning
foliage.  Dropping his arms, he fell back a step and peered up
into Rogue's beautiful face and heavy lidded eyes, three times
the size of his own, looming at least eleven feet above him. 
     "Tiny John like feel Tarzana's leg?" Her deep voice was a
husky whisper.  "Tarzana like, too!  Tarzana take tiny John,
now!" 
     Before he could react, two huge hands descended to encompass
his body.  Long, powerful fingers encircled his back and chest
and both his thighs, pinning his legs together.  He was lifted
bodily and held horizontally, face up, just below her open mouth,
that seemed suddenly almost big enough to swallow him whole.  He
squealed in protest as he saw her open mouth descend to meet his,
covering his face and cheeks from his nose to his chin.  He felt
a huge tongue lick him, then invade his mouth, filling it until
he was almost gagging.  He felt himself being shifted horizontally 
as her huge orifice moved to his throat, then to cover
nearly half his chest, then to his stomach, and finally to engulf
his manhood, licking and sucking on his soft flesh with a power
that was almost painful and yet wildly erotic.  He moaned and
writhed helplessly in the grip of her huge hands, and his tiny
fingers clutched frantically at the great, auburn crowned head
that was slowly, but surely, devouring his resistance and bringing 
him to a pinnacle of passion and desire.  As her huge tongue
caressed his now erect and throbbing penis, wave after wave of
ecstasy coursed through his body, and he thought he would erupt
in her mouth, but then it was gone, licking and sucking back up
to his chest and then down again, across his helpless body like
an ear of corn. 
     His eyes were closed in the ecstasy of his desire.  He felt
her hand leave his thighs.  He was being turned; his feet were
lowered, his body supported only by the single, huge hand around
his chest.  Somehow she was going to take him.  But how?  His
tiny penis could not hope to satisfy her giant cleft... 
     And then, a split second before it happened, he knew what
she would do. 
     SNAP! 
     The sudden, heavy weight between his legs confirmed a fear
that was all but eclipsed by massive, throbbing pangs of ecstasy
that enveloped his body.  He looked down to see his penis, now
fully two feet in length and nearly half the girth of his thighs,
extending straight out from his tiny body like a third leg, erect
and pulsating with desire! 
     He felt her lean back against a wall of the tree house and
spread her legs.  He was lowered, tilted backward, and then her
free hand covered his buttocks, lifting him and ramming him up
and into her, filling her.  And his consciousness was engulfed by
wave after wave of the mingled ecstasy of penis and clit that
intensified with every movement as she worked him up and down
inside her.  Dimly he was aware that his arms were around her
hips, his face pressed against the rock hard washboard of her
stomach, and his feet dangling just above her knees.  Somewhere
in the distance he heard gasps and moans, but could not tell
whether they were from her, or him, or from both of them.  He was
floating on a cloud of pure, timeless rapture.  Then it came, the
sudden eruption of her vaginal muscles around his giant penis
triggering his own explosion and carrying him upward on a tidal
wave of unbelievable ecstasy that eclipsed his consciousness.  He
thought he heard himself scream.  And then he fainted. 
     When he awoke, sunshine was streaming through his bedroom
window.  He looked up into Rogue's beautiful face, larger than
life, but not three times larger than life, gazing down at him
affectionately. 
     "Poor, little fella," she murmured.  "I guess all those
extra sensory nerves I had to put into your two foot dingus were
a little more than you could handle..."
 
     He blinked.  "What--where--"  Slowly it dawned on him where
he was, that he was lying, naked, on his own bed.  He felt
drained, exhausted, but was able to take a quick glance at his
body, and was relieved to see--and feel--that everything was back
to normal.  "Rogue!" he gasped.  "Is--is that you?  Is it over?" 
     "Yup," she chuckled.  "Back to my 'normal' six foot six. 
Have to admit, though, it was fun being a sixteen foot jungle
queen and rescuing you from those Amazon women!" 
     "It--it wasn't a dream?" 
     She looked hurt.  "Hey!" she retorted.  "This is your ever
lovin', live-in genie, remember?  I don't do dreams!  Only the
real thing for MY masters!" 
     "Those--those giant women!  They--they couldn't have been
real!" 
     "Real as you, baby."  She grinned with obvious pride.  "I
discovered 'em by accident about a century ago, deep in an unex-
plored region of the Brazilian Amazon.  Got curious about how
human women could get so huge and strong, so I spent some time
with them to learn about them.  Awfully primitive.  Since you're
my first master with a thing for big, strong women, I thought
it'd be fun to give you a taste of what it's like being captured
by Amazon giantesses!" 
     "Taste is right!"  The sudden memory of the Queen made him
nauseous.  With an effort, he wiped a slender forearm across his
face.  "You could have gotten there a little sooner!" 
     She chuckled.  "Sorry.  Didn't know you were so prissy.  A
lot of my masters loved to eat women, particularly me!" 
     He grimaced.  "Well, I don't!"  A sudden thought struck him. 
"The Queen!  Did--did you kill her?" 
     "Nah.  She's fine.  Just knocked her out and dislocated a
couple of vertebrae in her neck.  While you were out I went back
and fixed her, gave her the necklace back and let her be Queen
again, at least until one of the other women deposes her, which I
don't think will take very long, after what I did to her." 
     He shook his head in wonderment.  His mind was clearing, and
his body seemed to be recovering.  He lifted his legs tentatively
over the side of the bed and sat up as Rogue moved aside to make
room for him and, looming next to him, put a powerfully muscled
arm around his shoulders to steady him.  Then it struck him.  The
sun was shining! 
     "What--what day is this?" he asked, almost afraid to hear
the answer. 
     "Monday, of course, silly.  What day did you think it was?" 
     He glanced at his alarm clock.  It read 12:10 p.m.  "My
God!" he gasped.  "I should be at work!"  He reached for the
phone, then realized it was the lunch hour and that the office
would be empty.  He tried to get off the bed, but Rogue, wrinkling 
her nose in disgust, held him down easily. 
     "Work!" she snorted.  "How many times do I have to tell you
that you don't have to work any more!  You've got me!" 
     He shook his head.  "You don't understand." he argued.  "I
don't want the Taj Mahal or the Philadelphia Mint.  I WANT to
work.  I like my job, and people depend on me.  Now, please let
me go.  I've got to get ready." 
     She sighed and released him.  "If you insist!" she muttered. 
"But as far as getting ready is concerned, that's no problem at
all..." 
     SNAP! 
     And he was ready: showered, cleanshaven, hair combed neatly
in place, and dressed in his most conservative, blue suit and
black shoes. 
     "How's that?" she asked. 
     He blinked, then, realizing what she had done, stood up and,
a little unsteadily at first, moved to his dresser to check
himself in the mirror.  He sighed and looked back at Rogue.  "I
have to admit," he told her grudgingly, "there are SOME advantages 
to having you around." 
     She chuckled.  "You ain't seen nothin', yet, baby," she
replied, then, as he started to leave, "Aren't you gonna kiss
your little genie goodbye?" 
     He hesitated in mid-stride, looked back at her massive frame
sitting on the bed, and started to laugh.  "My 'little' genie,
eh?  Rogue, you are too much!"  He went back to the bed and put
his arms on her shoulders, looking down into lustrous, black eyes
only inches below his own.  "You know," he murmured, "I'm not
sure why I'm doing this..." and bent his head slightly to lightly
kiss her waiting lips. 
     "'Cause you're falling for me, that's why," she murmured in
reply, and, gripping him firmly about the waist, pulled him down
on her lap to finish the kiss with her customary vigor. 
     When she finally released him, he slid off her lap to stand
unsteadily in front of her, looking at her for a long moment. 
Was she right?  After all she had put him through?  Still, she
was the woman of his dreams and more, a towering, six and a half
foot Amazon, beautiful beyond compare, a miraculous combination
of massive, shapely muscularity and seductive femininity... 
     And her lovemaking was unbelievable! 
     He shook his head.  "I have to go.  Will--will you be all
right while I'm gone?" 
     She grinned and flexed an enormous bicep.  "I think I can
take care of myself," she laughed. 
     "I meant--will you be here when I get home?" 
     "Of course.  I'm your personal genie, remember?" 
     He flushed.  "I--I have to go," he said again.  He hesitated, 
then, with an effort, turned and rushed out of the bedroom... 
     ...and into the bar. 
      
                      PART THREE - THE BAR 
      
     It was a big, barnlike place with a bare, unvarnished,
wooden floor and wooden tables and chairs scattered around a tiny
bar in the corner opposite the entrance.  The right half of the
room was dedicated to four, shabby pool tables each of which was
occupied by two couples dressed in black leather jackets, faded
jeans and heavy, black boots.  The women were big, burly and mean
looking, with long, straight, greasy hair, and several of the men
wore dirty beards.  Five other, similar couples were seated at
the tables around the bar. 
     Bikers, probably.  They had the look. 
     Oddly, however, none of them were talking, and the only
sounds in the room were the uneven clicks of the balls on the
pool tables and an occasional rattle as a shot was made.  A
couple of the women stopped to regard Kevin with casual interest,
and he quickly averted his eyes. 
     Behind the bar a fat, unshaven bartender in an undershirt
was serving a beer to a single customer lounging on one of three,
wooden stools, a heavyset man wearing coveralls and work shoes. 
He looked like he might have been a farmer.  To the right of the
bar a long hallway led to what were probably storage and rest
rooms, and a long, wooden stairway rose steeply to a landing
running the width of the bar and along the back wall of which
were a half dozen closed doors.  Kevin could guess what those
rooms were for. 
     He was still dressed in his business suit, and one look
around told him this was no place for him.  But, as he turned
back through the screened entrance door, he realized he wasn't
going anywhere. 
     The building was sitting on a kind of low plateau overlooking 
a vast expanse of flat desert through which a narrow highway
cut a straight, black ribbon to disappear in the distance.  Over
a dozen Harleys were scattered around a small parking area, and a
small pickup was parked to one side, probably belonging to the
heavyset man at the bar.  Kevin's car was there, too, with the
hood up and clouds of steam rising from an overheated radiator. 
     "Great!" he muttered to himself.  "Damn you, Rogue!  What
have you done to me now?" 
     He returned to the bar, uncomfortably aware that the bikers
were now watching him closely.  The heavyset man was occupying
the middle of the three stools, so Kevin had no choice but to
take a stool next to him.  The bartender eyed him nervously, his
eyes slits in the loose folds of flaccid flesh around his cheeks. 
     "Got a problem, mister?"  His voice was a rasping growl with
a heavy, north Texas accent. 
     Kevin nodded.  "Looks that way, I'm afraid," he replied. 
"Cooling system's bad, but I can't get close enough to tell why. 
I'll look at it after it cools down."  He hesitated.  "Is there a
garage anywhere around here?" 
     "Fifty miles or so down the road, but they ain't got no tow
truck." 
     Kevin frowned.  He was tempted to ask where he was, but
decided against it.  "Figures," he said finally.  "Well, I may
need some water--and antifreeze, if you have it--to get there. 
Can you spare any?" 
     "Water's scarce around here, mister.  It'll cost you." 
     Kevin started to check his wallet, but thought better of it. 
No sense in flashing too much cash in a place like this, and he
was sure he had enough.  He pulled his wallet from the breast
pocket of his suit coat and, holding it low, removed a five and
dropped it on the bar. 
     "That's fine," he said pleasantly.  "While I'm waiting, I
might as well have a beer." 
     The bartender grunted, produced a bottle of Coors from below
the bar, opened it and sat it in front of Kevin without a glass. 
The bottle was warm to his touch.  The bartender shoved Kevin's
five into a drawer under the bar and dropped a single, one dollar
bill on the bar in return.  Kevin sipped the beer slowly, repres-
sing a grimace of distaste.  He liked Coors, but not warm Coors. 
     The man sitting next to him turned to look at him closely,
running his eyes up and down Kevin's small, slender frame.  "You
ain't from around here," he said flatly. 
     Kevin smiled.  "No.  L.A.  Long Beach, actually." 
     "Long way from home.  Know anything about cars?" 
     Kevin shook his head.  "Not as much as I'd like to, particu-
larly now," he replied.  "I could probably tell if a fan belt or
radiator hose is bad, but if it's the water pump or anything like
that..."  He gave a helpless shrug, leaving the sentence unfinished. 
     The big man grinned.  "Thought so.  I know cars.  Fix my
pickup all the time.  When your radiator cools down, I'll take a
look." 
     Kevin started to thank him, but was interrupted by a hard,
feminine voice from behind them.  "No, you won't, fatso.  I'm
gonna take care'a the little guy all by myself." 
     They both turned their heads to see a slender, hard faced
biker woman standing several feet behind them.  She appeared to
be in her middle or late twenties and was wearing the standard
black leather jacket, jeans and flat heeled, black boots.  Kevin
judged her to be about 5'6", a couple of inches taller than he in
her boots, and no more than 130 lbs.  Her hair was a streaky
blonde and hung straight down to her shoulders.  Despite her
small size, at least compared to the other women in the room, she
looked tough as nails. 
     "I beg your pardon?" Kevin said quietly. 
     She ignored him, regarding the big man next to him with a
slight smile.  She moved a step closer and reached down with one
small hand to grip one of the legs of the big man's stool.  Then,
to Kevin's amazement, with a casual flip of her arm and wrist,
she lifted the stool, with the big man still on it, a foot off
the floor and then snapped it backward, sending the big man
sprawling on his back on the floor at least six feet away. 
     "Don'cha know enough to offer a lady your seat, shithead?"
she laughed.  She set the stool back on the floor and grinned at
Kevin.  "Now," she said softly, "let's you and me get acquainted,
sweetcakes." 
     The room was suddenly silent as the other bikers stopped to
watch.  Kevin was staring at the slender biker woman, stunned at
the feat he had just witnessed.  The big man had to weigh over
two hundred pounds, and yet she had lifted and tossed him six
feet through the air like a bag of dirty laundry!  And with a
single hand! 
     He glanced back at the big man, who was holding his head and
shaking it in disbelief as he slowly rolled over onto his knees
and then unsteadily to his feet.  Then his face became a mask of
rage, and he glared at the woman.  She followed Kevin's look and
turned to face the big man. 
     "Plannin' on doin' something about it, shithead?" she asked
him quietly.  Her voice had an edge to it that Kevin didn't like. 
     From behind the bar, the bartender's voice was plaintive. 
"C'mon, Myra, we don't want no trouble in here..." 
     "Shut your face, Ed, or I'll shut it for ya," the woman
snapped without looking at him.  "The next move is up to shit-
head, here, anyway."  Then, to the big man, "Well, what's it
gonna be, asshole?  Ya gonna get your fat ass outa here, or am I
gonna have to bounce ya around some more?  I ain't gonna stand
here lookin' at your ugly puss all day!" 
     With a snarl the big man came at her, swinging a clumsy,
roundhouse right at her face.  She blocked the blow with her left
forearm, stopping his fist in mid-swing with a suddenness that
jarred him, then immobilized his right wrist in a bone crushing
grip that brought a yelp of pain from him.  Her small, right fist
became a blur of motion, smashing into his midsection one, two
three, four...more times than the eye could follow.  As he
doubled over, gagging, she pivoted to stand next to him and, with
his right wrist still held captive in her left hand, forced his
arm up and then swiftly forward and down in a wide arc, simultan-
eously twisting his wrist inward, toward his body.  There was an
audible "crack".  The big man's feet left the floor, and he
somersaulted through the air to land with a crash on his back on
the floor, his right arm lying uselessly at an odd angle from his
body. 
     "Time!" the woman called Myra barked. 
     "Three seconds!"  The respondent, a burly, black haired,
biker woman, held up a stopwatch. 
     Myra scowled.  "Shit!  I must be slowin' up.  I shoulda done
him in two!" 
     She walked around to stand in front of the big man, who was
dazedly moaning in pain.  She reached down with her left hand and
grasped a large fold in the upper bib of his coveralls and then,
in another, incredible display of brute strength, heaved him
bodily up off the floor to hold his limp body on tiptoe in front
of her, the top of her head barely level with his chin.  She
looked at Kevin and winked.  "Watch this, sweetcakes," she
chuckled.  Again her right fist was a blur, smashing upward this
time into the big man's unprotected face in a dazzling barrage of
savage punches that instantly transformed his sagging features
into a sickening, unrecognizable mass of blood and pulp. 
     Still holding him on tiptoe, Myra moved him back at arm's
length to inspect her handiwork.  The big man was still conscious, 
but just barely.  His head rolled from side to side, and
muffled, choking moans came from a mouth filled with blood.  She
nodded in satisfaction, then stepped around behind him and slid
her right hand between his thighs to cup his crotch in a crushing
grip, transforming his moans to a muted, falsetto scream.  She
moved her left hand to his shirt collar behind his neck and,
lifting him a couple of inches off the floor, marched him to the
entrance door of the bar.  The biker woman with the stopwatch
hurried ahead to open it for her, and Myra heaved the big man
through it to land in a crumpled heap on the rough gravel of the
parking lot. 
     Kevin had watched the entire tableau with a growing sense of
horror and nausea.  The big man had seemed like a nice enough
fellow, and although he had made a mistake in taking a swing at
the biker woman, he certainly had not deserved the terrible
beating she had inflicted on him, particularly after she had
rendered him helpless.  He was beginning to suspect that Myra was
an outright sadist, and his fears were confirmed as she turned to
face the room and raised a bloody, right fist in a gesture of
triumph to the applause and acclamation of the other bikers.  She
came back to the bar and behind it, where, ignoring the bartender
who was shakily making a show of examining his liquor bottles,
she quickly washed the blood off her hands in the dirty sink, and
then moved around to Kevin and put a hand on the inside of his
thigh, squeezing it intimately. 
     "Nothin' turns me on faster than beatin' an asshole bloody,
sweetcakes," she told him.  "How's about you and me takin' a
little walk upstairs?  I guarantee it'll be the best piece'a ass
ya ever had, and, hell, I might even keep ya if ya measure up!" 
     Kevin thought fast.  He wanted nothing to do with this
sadistic bitch, but he was not a brave man and did not want to
suffer the same fate as the big man.  Hopefully Rogue had put him
here to play her little game of last-minute-rescue again and
would be along before things got too far out of hand.  If he
could only stall Myra long enough... 
     "You're--you're amazing!" he told her, putting both feigned
admiration and genuine fear into his voice.  "I never would have
dreamed a woman your size could have handled that guy so easily!" 
     Myra eyed him speculatively for a moment.  "Musclewomen turn
ya on, sweetcakes?" she asked finally, moving her hand further up
his thigh toward his crotch. 
     "Y-yes, I-I think so..." 
     "Then take a look at this."  Her hand left his thigh, and
she unzipped her leather jacket, shrugged it off and dropped it
on the stool next to Kevin.  Underneath, she was wearing only a
khaki undershirt cut off just below her almost nonexistent
breasts, revealing a compact, wiry torso and arms that were
etched in solid, bulging and deeply cut muscles.  "One hundred
sixty five pounds of solid muscle, sweetcakes," she told him
proudly,  "and not an ounce'a fat.  I'm a third degree black belt
in karate and judo, and I can hoist the front end of an '80 El
Dorado three feet off the ground and hold it there long enough
for someone to change a tire.  I'm the smallest biker of my
outfit, but I'm the boss 'cause I can take out any three or four
of these broads without raisin' a sweat, and, if necessary, I can
cream the whole bunch of 'em all at once!  Ain't that right,
gang?" 
     A chorus of assents from the women bikers in the room
confirmed her boast.  Kevin's throat was suddenly dry, and he
swallowed visibly. 
     "What--what about the men?" he asked hoarsely. 
     "The MEN!"  Myra snorted derisively.  "These ain't men,
sweetcakes!  They're toys!  The only things they got goin' for
'em is what's between their legs!  Here, lemme show ya..."  She
turned to face the bikers and barked,  "Okay, toyboys!  Line up! 
Right here in front of me!  On the double!  Asses facing me and
bend over!" 
     There was a flurry of activity as the male bikers rushed to
comply with Myra's order, forming a ragged line in front of the
bar facing away from her and Kevin and leaning forward with their
hands on their knees.  Kevin's eyebrows went up in surprise and
shock as he saw something he hadn't noticed before.  Each man's
jeans had a hole cut in the seat, exposing both buttocks, on
which appeared dull red letters spelling the words "Property of"
on the left and a woman's first name on the right. 
     "You--you tattoo your men?" he asked in astonishment. 
     Myra gave a short laugh.  "Tattoos?  Hell, no, sweekcakes! 
Them ain't tattoos.  Them's brands!  We brand 'em, just like
cattle, so none'a the gals get confused over who owns what! 
'Course," she added with a sly grin, "in the end, they all belong
to me!  Whenever I want one or two of 'em, I just take 'em, and
the gals can fight over what's left!"  She sauntered over to one
of the men and clamped her hand on his right buttock.  He
flinched visibly, but remained silent.  "Right now Larry, here's,
my favorite, ain't'cha, babe?  It's our newest toy, and its ass
is still a little sore from the brandin' iron, but it knows
better than to complain, don't'cha, babe?  It's the smallest and
softest of the bunch, and I like my men small and soft, like you,
sweetcakes.  It belongs to Gina, over there, but I can take it
whenever I want it, can't I, Gina?" 
     The biker woman with the stopwatch nodded vigorously. 
     Myra gave Larry a sharp slap on his rear.  The biker slave
flinched again, but remained silent.  She started to turn back to
Kevin when she suddenly frowned.  "Hey, wait a minute," she
growled, "we're a toy short, here."  She looked up and down the
line, and then snarled, "Where the hell's Ox?" 
     "Mame's got it upstairs bangin' it," one of the biker women
replied. 
     Myra shook her head.  "Jee-sus!" she exclaimed.  "She's had
it up there for the last three hours!  She keeps that up, there
won't be enough left of it for me!" 
     Several of the biker women laughed nervously.  "You want I
should go get 'em?" asked Gina. 
     "Nah!  Leave 'em be."  Myra grinned and strolled back to the
bar and gripped the inside of Kevin's thigh again.  "I don't need
Ox.  I got little sweetcakes, here, to play with, don't I, sweet-
cakes?"  She slid her hand under his crotch, effortlessly lifted
him off the stool and set him on his feet on the floor in front
of her.  "Jee-sus!" she marveled, looking down at him.  "Will you
look at this little toy, gang?  It ain't even as tall as me, an'
I'll bet it don't weigh more than a hundred and twenty pounds
soakin' wet!  Sweetcakes, you was made to order for Myra!  Let's
see what'cha got under them clothes!" 
     As Kevin opened his mouth to object, she reached up under
his open shirt collar, grabbed his loosened tie and effortlessly
tore it apart, then ripped his shirt open and yanked it and his
suit coat down around his arms, pinning them to his sides.  His
belt was next, which she snapped in two like a piece of thread,
and, before Kevin realized what was happening, she had torn his
trousers and undershorts away from his hips as though they were
tissue paper. 
     "Hey!" he yelped.  "This is my best suit!" 
     "Stow it, sweetcakes!" she growled.  "Unless you want me to
stuff these pants down your throat and pull 'em out your ass! 
Besides, where you're goin', you won't need 'em!" 
     Reaching around behind him, she wrapped a single arm around
his now naked waist and lifted him bodily off the floor, holding
him securely, face down, under her armpit while she stripped off
his shoes and socks and then slid his tattered trousers and
shorts over his feet to drop them on the floor.  Then she set him
on his feet again and pulled his shirt and suit coat down over
his arms and off, leaving him completely naked in front of her. 
     The entire process had taken less than five seconds, and
Kevin had been too surprised and shocked to object.  Now he
gasped, "Wait a minute!  You can't--" 
     His protest was cut off as she spun him around, wrapped a
steel hard arm around his waist, clamped her other hand over his
mouth and lifted him a couple of inches off the floor.  "I told
you to stow it, sweetcakes," she snarled in his ear,  "and I
ain't gonna tell you again!  You're comin' upstairs with Myra!" 
     "I don't think so, sweetie.  The little fella belongs to
me." 
     The voice was deep, rich, feminine and familiar.  No one had
heard her drive up or seen her come in, but there she was, a
helmeted, massive figure dressed in black leather jacket, skin
tight leather pants and high heeled, black leather boots towering
in the seven foot doorway, her helmet brushing the top of the
jamb and her immense shoulders literally filling the doorway from
side to side.  A dark, plastic shield covered her face, but
Kevin, whose back was toward her, did not have to see her to know
who she was. 
     Myra slowly lowered Kevin to the floor and removed her arm
from around his waist, but kept her other hand firmly clamped
over his mouth, ignoring his feeble efforts to free himself.  She
turned, forcing Kevin around as well, to face the intruder as the
giant woman moved from the doorway into the center of the room,
her high heels clicking ominously against the hardwood floor. 
She stopped next to one of the tables, which the bikers seated
there quickly vacated. 
     "Well, now," Myra growled in a low voice to the others in
the room.  "Big motha, ain't she?" 
     No one replied.  One of the larger men in the group was
circling silently around behind the giant, helmeted woman, a pool
cue in both hands.  As Kevin's muffled squeals against the
pressure of Myra's hand tried to warn her, he got within striking
distance and swung the heavy end of the stick hard in a wide arc
upward against the base of her neck.  There was a loud crack of
wood against plastic.  For a moment the giant woman didn't move,
and the biker took a step backward, gaping up at her in amazement.  
Then she whirled.  Two huge, gloved hands shot out, one to
snatch the cue from the bikers grasp, and the other to clamp
around the biker's throat, lift him bodily off his feet and hold
him at arm's length, his feet thrashing a foot above the floor. 
She held the pool cue up for everyone to see and, wrapping her
thumb over it, snapped in two like a matchstick, dropping the
pieces at her feet.  Then a casual flip of the hand holding the
biker sent him careening through the air the width of the room. 
He landed in a tangled heap of arms and legs on the farthest pool
table, scattering the balls and rolling off the end to sprawl on
the floor behind it.  He didn't get up. 
     A deadly silence fell over the room as the bikers, men and
women, turned in unison to look at Myra.  Behind him, Kevin could
hear the bartender's teeth chattering.  The giant woman turned to
face Myra, removed her helmet and laid it on the table next to
her, allowing her long, tangled mass of dark auburn hair to spill
over impossibly wide shoulders and revealing Rogue's lovely,
larger than life features.  She removed her gloves, unzipped her
jacket and shrugged it off, dropping it next to the helmet. 
There was a chorus of gasps from around the room as the massive
"V" of her torso, carved in mammoth, deeply cut, oaken muscle and
covered only by a brief halter that concealed her small, firm
breasts, and immense arms with rock hard biceps the size of
softballs were exposed. 
     The silence was broken by Myra's barking command.  "Gina! 
Get Ox and Mame!" 
     The biker woman bounded up the stairs, and Myra, her hand
still firmly over Kevin's mouth, grinned at Rogue.  "I'd take you
myself, muscle bitch," she drawled, "but I got a little toy here
who's keepin' me kinda busy." 
     Rogue smiled back at her.  "I guarantee you, sweetie," she
replied, "you're going to get the chance." 
     "I wouldn't bet on it, bitch.  I figure Ox and Mame can
handle you." 
     Gina had opened one of the upstairs doors, and Kevin heard
voices from inside the room.  A few moments later a huge man
emerged dressed only in shorts, as tall as the doorway with a
barrel-like torso almost as wide.  He looked like he weighed well
over three hundred pounds.  Behind him was a naked blonde woman
who was even bigger.  At first glance both looked sloppy fat, but
as they came down the stairs Kevin could see slabs of massive
muscle flexing underneath their rolls of deceptively smooth
flesh. 
     "Ox, here, is the biggest and toughest of our toys," Myra
drawled in Rogue's direction.  "Three hundred seventy five pounds
of solid muscle under all that flab.  It can take any three of
our other toys, and only Mame and me can handle it.  And me, I
can take both of 'em at once, along with everybody else in this
gang."  She gestured with her free hand to the two behemoths. 
"Can't I, boys and girls?" 
     Both nodded in unison.  "What'cha want, Myra?" Ox asked.  He
had a voice that reminded Kevin of a chainsaw. 
     "This big bitch, here, thinks she's gonna take my little toy
away from me," Myra snapped.  "Teach her what a shitty idea that
is." 
     Ox grunted, turned to briefly peruse Rogue's massive frame,
then nodded to Mame, and, together, they moved to stand in front
of her.  Rogue remained motionless, regarding both with an amused
expression as they faced each other.  Ox, on Rogue's left, stood
eye to eye with her, while Mame, on her right, was a good two
inches taller, and each must have outweighed Rogue by seventy-five 
or a hundred pounds. 
     Without warning, then, Ox launched a looping right at
Rogue's jaw while Mame swung the knife edge of her left hand at
the side of Rogue's neck.  Rogue caught Ox' fist in her left
hand, stopping it short so abruptly his entire body was jarred by
the impact.  Simultaneously her right fist shot straight out and
smashed with tremendous force into Mame's face, stopping her
rabbit punch in mid-swing and sending the huge woman staggering
backward several steps, blood spurting from her flattened nose. 
Rogue's fingers then clamped down hard on Ox' imprisoned fist,
and he screamed in pain as his hand was crushed.  With her other
hand she caught his left in a crunching finger lock, forced both
his hands down to his sides and bent his wrists back, locking
both his arms straight.  Then, using only the massive muscles of
her mighty arms, she curled his 375 lb. frame up several inches
off the floor, his body balanced between his locked arms and his
entire weight bearing down on his bent wrists.  His scream of
pain died into a whimper as his eyes glazed, and then there was
an audible crack from both his wrists as Rogue heaved his semi-
conscious body higher into the air and hurled him into Mame,
sending them both sprawling onto the floor. 
     Ox was unconscious.  Mame was under him, moaning with the
pain of her smashed face, and, as she managed to roll the huge
man off her, Rogue sauntered over to her, gripped the back of her
neck, and lifted her to her feet.  Standing behind her, Rogue
reached down with her free hand to grab a handful of flabby,
buttock flesh and, in an unbelievable display of almost superhuman 
physical strength, heaved the mammoth woman up to hold her,
her massive arms fully extended, high over her head.  She held
her there for only a moment before bringing her down hard, at the
same time lifting one knee to slam it into the small of Mame's
back as she came down.  The crunching sound of her broken back
made Kevin wince as the huge woman rolled off Rogue's raised knee
and tumbled in a motionless heap on the floor. 
     Rogue turned to Myra.  "Now," she said softly, "it's your
turn, sweetie.  Unless, of course," she added to the remaining
bikers, who were backing away against the far wall, "the rest of
you lowlifes want to try to take me on." 
     Trembling hands went up and heads shook vigorously.  There
were no takers. 
     Myra sighed.  "Never send a man to do a woman's job," she
muttered.  She released Kevin's mouth and, sliding one hand under
his crotch, lifted him up and set him on the bar.  "Move your ass
one inch and it'll be your last, sweetcakes," she told him.  "Be
back for you in a sec, after I dispose of this female gorilla." 
     Rogue smiled condescendingly.  "Think you're up to it,
sweetie?" she asked. 
     Myra made a rude noise.  "You fuckin' well better believe
it, bitch," she snarled.  "You ain't done nothin' I couldn't'a
done, and a lot quicker and neater, besides!" 
     "Then come ahead." 
     Myra moved, catlike, away from the bar until she was about
six feet from Rogue, then suddenly, in an incredible display of
power and agility, launched herself through the air, one leg
cocked to deliver a karate kick to Rogue's face.  As her leg shot
out, Rogue swept it aside with a massive arm, and Myra careened
to one side and tumbled to the floor, rolled, and was back on her
feet in an instant, ready to lunge again as Rogue turned to face
her. 
     "Lucky move, bitch!" she snarled. 
     Rogue smiled.  "So try again, sweetie," she replied.  "Tell
you what.  This time I won't block you.  I'll give you your best
shot, and then I'll take you apart." 
     Kevin was shocked.  "Rogue!" he yelled, "Don't be crazy! 
You don't know what she can do!" 
     Rogue blew him a kiss.  "Of course I do, baby," she laughed. 
     But Myra was already taking advantage of her moment of
inattention.  She leaped forward, covering the distance between
them in an instant, and at the same time spun around in midair to
deliver a smashing back kick with her heavy, booted heel to the
side of Rogue's face.  Rogue's head moved no more than an inch
from the blow.  Myra's foot bounced off her cheek, and she
tumbled to the floor, landing, catlike, on her hands and feet. 
She spun around again, and her left arm became a blur as she
backfisted Rogue's other cheek, with the same effect.  Myra fell
back in amazement, holding her left hand and wincing in pain, as
Rogue rubbed her cheek ruefully. 
     "Have to admit, your kick hurt a little, sweetie," she
murmured.  "How's your hand?" 
     Myra was crouching, holding her injured fist against her
stomach and gaping up at her.  "What--" she choked.  "What the
fuck are you?" 
     "Someone who's about to take you apart, sweetie."  There was
no amusement in Rogue's face now as she moved forward. 
     "Ed!" Myra screeched to the bartender.  "Get the fuckin'
shotgun!" 
     Kevin turned his head to see the bartender duck under the
bar and come up with a double barrelled shotgun, then had to duck
himself as Myra's body, all flailing arms and legs, sailed past
him.  She crashed into the bartender, knocking both of them back
against the storage cabinets behind the bar, and then to the
floor in a tangled heap.  He ducked again as Rogue's giant figure
vaulted over the bar and saw her pluck the weapon from Ed's hands
as he pushed a groggy Myra off him and staggered to his feet. 
Holding it in both hands at the end of the barrels and the breech
and smiling down at the terrified bartender, Rogue bent both
barrels up and back into a "U", then tossed the weapon back to
him. 
     "I wouldn't suggest shooting it now, Ed," she told him. 
     "Jesus!"  The bartender stared at the disabled weapon in
disbelief.  "You ain't human, lady!" 
     Rogue chuckled.  "You don't know the half of it, Ed," she
replied, "and if you did you wouldn't believe it.  Now, if you're
smart you'll stay out of the way while I take care of sweetie,
here."  She reached down with a single hand, gripped Myra by the
throat and, lifting her into the air, carried her at arm's length
out from behind the bar.  "You know, sweetie," she told the
dazed, helpless biker woman, "I don't normally hurt people who
are smaller and weaker than me--which is just about everybody,
actually--but in your case I'm going to make an exception.  I saw
what you did to that poor guy I found lying out in the parking
lot, and I think you need a little of your own medicine.  So open
wide, sweetie, 'cause, ready or not, here it comes!" 
     Myra's face was turning blue, and she was gagging from the
pressure of Rogue's fingers around her throat.  She pounded
weakly on Rogue's massive forearms as the giant woman moved her
closer, but still beyond the reach of the smaller woman's shorter
arms.  Rogue drew back a huge fist, and then it became a blur as
it smashed again and again into the biker woman's face, disinte-
grating her features into a bloody mess in seconds.  Then, with a
grimace of distaste, Rogue dropped her into an unconscious heap
at her feet. 
     She turned to face the remaining bikers, who were cowering
against the far wall.  "I would suggest," she told them evenly,
"that you lowlifes clear out of here, get on your bikes and
scatter in a dozen different directions.  If I ever see you as a
gang again, or see ANY one or more of you within three hundred
miles of this place, you'll get what she got.  NOW, MOVE!  AND I
MEAN NOW!" 
     There was a stampede for the door, followed the roar of
motorcycle engines starting up and then fading in the distance,
and, except for the unconscious bikers, the three of them were
alone in the bar.  The bartender was sitting behind the bar
staring at his ruined shotgun and mumbling to himself.  Rogue
came over to where Kevin was seated on the bar and, cupping his
chin in one hand, tilted his head back and kissed him lightly. 
     "You okay, babe?" she asked. 
     Suddenly Kevin's entire body was trembling uncontrollably. 
He closed his eyes, threw his arms around her neck and collapsed
against her.  "Oh, God, Rogue!" he whispered.  "I was so scared! 
That woman was a monster!  I thought she was going to--to--"  His
voice trailed off into silence, and he clung to her in quiet
desperation. 
     "Shhhh!"  She put a finger to his lips, then gathered him up
in her powerful arms and cuddled his naked body tightly to her
massive chest.  "It's all right, baby," she murmured soothingly. 
"I've got you, now.  You're safe in my arms.  I won't let anybody
hurt you.  Ever." 
     He looked up at her pleadingly.  "Rogue?" 
     "Yes, baby?" 
     "Please--please don't do this to me any more, please?  I--I
was so frightened!  I--I don't think I could take any more..." 
     She looked down at him cradled in her arms, and, for a
moment, a cloud seemed to cross her features.  Her eyes were
almost wistful.  She hugged him and lowered her lips to capture
his in a long, loving kiss.  "I won't," she said softly.  "I
promise."  She hesitated.  "Kevin," she said finally, "I'm sorry. 
I really am.  I thought it would be fun to put you in jeopardy
and then rescue you.  Particularly since you like stronger women. 
It always was with the others.  But...it's different with you. 
Seeing you like this, so small and frightened and helpless...sud-
denly it's not fun any more.  I--well, all I can say is that I'm
sorry, and that I won't do this to you ever again.  All I want to
do is hold you and protect you and make love to you..." 
     He sighed and pressed his face against her broad shoulder,
and gradually the trembling in his body subsided.  "Hold me," he
whispered.  "Hold me tight.  Please?" 
     She smiled and kissed his forehead.  "If I hold you any
tighter I'll squash you," she teased.  "You forget how strong I
am."  She glanced at the stairs.  "Anyway, speaking as I was
about making love, there are some bedrooms up there just going to
waste..." 
     "I--I'd rather you take me to my--to our bed," he whispered. 
     She pursed her lips, concealing another smile.  "I think I
can arrange that, too," she told him softly. 
     Still holding him cradled tightly in her mighty arms, she
carried him up the stairs, through the open door to the room Ox
and Mame had used... 
     ...and into Kevin's living room. 
     "Oh, oh!" she breathed.  "This wasn't exactly what I had in
mind!" 
      
                      PART FOUR - JUDGMENT 
      
     There were eleven of them, standing solemnly and silently in
a semicircle in front of the divan, tall, slender men dressed in
flowing, white robes.  Their hair was long and full and fell like
smooth curtains of white over their shoulders.  Each was wearing
a long, white beard that reached halfway to his waist.  Their
arms were folded across their chests, their hands inside the full
sleeves of their robes.  They regarded Rogue and Kevin, who was
still cuddled in her massive, powerfully muscled arms, with stern
disapproval. 
     "Is THIS the current vogue in human womanhood?" the man in
the center of the group finally asked Rogue, his eyes traveling
up and down her towering figure. 
     Rogue slowly lowered Kevin to his feet and inclined her head
toward the speaker.  "Not entirely in vogue, Revered One, at
least not yet," she replied, "but a form that some men today seem
to prefer, and one my new master definitely does." 
     "Ah, yes."  The speaker's eyes fastened on Kevin with a look
that seemed to pierce his slender body, and his voice was heavy
with sarcasm.  "Your new--'master'..." 
     Kevin, his nakedness momentarily forgotten, looked up at
Rogue looming next to him and shrank back against her.  She put
her arm around his shoulders protectively.  "These people
are...the Council?" he asked tremulously.
 
     "I'm afraid so, Kevin," she murmured.  "Be silent and
listen."  Then, to the speaker, "It didn't take you long to learn
I'd been freed from the lamp, Revered One." 
     "We sensed your presence almost immediately," the speaker
said, "but, in fairness, we decided to wait and observe.  It
would appear, however, that you've learned little during your
captivity.  We see that you are up to, shall we say, your old
tricks?" 
     Rogue bit her lip, but said nothing. 
     There was a moment of heavy silence in the room.  Then the
speaker resumed.  "I will not deny that it troubles us greatly to
see one of our number turn renegade, to so blithely ignore the
the welfare of the masters to whom we owe our freedom and whom we
are committed to serve.  But you gave us no choice.  We had hoped
that our placement of the lamp would preclude your powers from
ever again being unleashed upon the world.  Obviously we were
wrong, and for this," he looked directly at Kevin, "we must
apologize to you, young mortal."  He returned his attention to
Rogue.  "We have seen the jeopardy in which you have placed this
young man for your own amusement and the sexual experiments you
have worked on him.  We cannot permit this to continue.  We must
return you to the lamp.  And this time we shall place it where no
mortal will ever find it again!" 
     He parted the full sleeves of his robe, and Kevin saw that
he was holding the lamp.  He placed it on the coffee table in
front of the group and deftly removed the top which Kevin had
thought was permanently affixed to the lamp.  Then, in unison,
the eleven men raised their arms high above their heads and began
to intone a low chant in a language Kevin did not understand. 
     Kevin looked up at Rogue.  Her head was bowed, her 
expression sad.  He was about to lose her, and he suddenly realized
that only he could prevent what was happening. 
     "Wait a minute!" he shouted, and, slipping out from under
under her arm, rushed across the room to snatch the lamp and top
from the coffee table and cover them with his arms against his
chest. 
     The chant was halted, and the Council members looked at each
other in surprise and shock.  Kevin felt Rogue's huge hands on
his shoulders pull him back. 
     "Kevin, don't!" she whispered fiercely.  "You have no voice
here!  You'll only make things worse, for me and possibly for
yourself!  You dare not defy the Council!" 
     "Like hell!" he retorted.  For a second he was amazed at his
own boldness, but desperation drove him forward.  "I found you
and I freed you!  I'm not going to let them take you from me!" 
     The speaker stepped forward and held out his hand.  "Young
mortal, return the lamp to me."  His voice was solemn, but even. 
"Do not force me to take it from you." 
     "Why should I?" Kevin snapped.  "It's mine.  I found it, and
it belongs to me.  Sure, I know you could use your magic to take
it from me, but a moment ago you talked about fairness.  Is it
fair to deprive me of something I want to keep, a treasure that
I've dreamed about practically all my life, without even giving
me a chance to talk?  If that's your idea of fairness, then you
people are bigger renegades than you say she is!" 
     The speaker regarded Kevin with condescension.  "You are a
mortal.  You do not--cannot--understand the risks, the dangers
involved in permitting this genie to remain free.  Give me the
lamp." 
     "The hell I can't!  And if you want it, you're going to have
to take it!"  Kevin glared up at the speaker, his small body
tense.  Then, with an effort, he composed himself, as he realized
that belligerence would not work here, only persuasion.  "Look,"
he continued earnestly, "you say you've been watching us.  Okay,
then you know what she's put me through today.  I won't deny that
it wasn't much fun for me; as a matter of fact, it was scary as
hell!  But if you were really watching us, you should know that
we both learned something from it, something that changes everything!" 
     "And what is that, young mortal?" 
     Kevin looked up at Rogue's lovely face looming above and
behind him.  "I learned," he said quietly, "that I'm in love with
her, and that I couldn't bear to lose her.  And she learned that
she's in love with me." 
     "Preposterous!" 
     "No, it isn't.  Didn't you see what happened in the bar not
more than twenty minutes ago?  Didn't you hear what she said? 
That I was different from the others?  That her little games that
scared the hell out me weren't fun for her any more?  That all
she wanted to do was hold me and protect me and love me?  And
couldn't you tell whether or not she really meant that, whether
or not she was sincere?" 
     The speaker smiled faintly.  "Sincerity, with this one, I'm
afraid, is a passing fancy." 
     "If you're so sure about that, then test it, dammit!"  Kevin
turned his head to look up at Rogue again.  "Rogue, tell me the
truth.  Do you love me?" 
     She smiled down at him, and her hands, still on his shoulders, 
squeezed him imperceptibly.  "You know I do," she said
simply. 
     The speaker shook his head sadly.  "You simply do not
understand.  Love as you know it between a mortal and a genie is
impossible!" 
     Kevin laughed harshly.  "If it's impossible, then why is it
happening?" he retorted.  "Look at her!  In this form she's flesh
and blood, like me!  Why must love between us be impossible?"  He
turned back to Rogue.  "Rogue, answer me truthfully.  Would you
become mortal to stay with me?" 
     "Kevin..." 
     "Please.  Just answer yes or no." 
     She sighed.  "The Revered One is right," she told him, "you
don't understand.  My answer won't prove a thing, but, for
whatever it's worth, the answer is yes." 
     "That's all I wanted to know.  You see," Kevin continued,
addressing the speaker, "I don't want riches or anything else her
magic can give me.  I don't even want her magic.  You can even
take the damned lamp, for all I care.  All I want is her, the way
she is now.  Is that too much to ask?" 
     The speaker smiled faintly.  "No," he replied, "but, unfor-
tunately, it is more than we can give.  Making her mortal is
beyond our power, and, if you do not understand that, this one
knows it well.  If it were within our power, we would have done
so centuries ago.  She is what she is, and we cannot change
that." 
     Kevin grimaced.  "I think I may well be the ONLY one who
understands what I'm trying to do here!" he retorted.  "Can't you
tell whether her answers were sincere?  Can't you tell whether
I'M sincere?  Good Lord, if you people are so damned all powerful, 
why can't you tell that?" 
     "We can." 
     "OK, and your answer is that her sincerity is a passing
thing, right?  So, OK, test it!  Give her--and me--a chance to
prove you wrong!  Watch us if you want, I don't care!  We certainly 
can't hide anything from you!  Let us prove to you that
she means what she says, and that a mortal and a genie really can
love each other!  And if either of us get out of line, you can
always return and pop her back into the bottle!" 
     "The lamp," Rogue corrected him. 
     "Whatever!" 
     For the first time, the speaker looked uncertain.  He turned
back to his companions.  The room fell silent as the group faced
each other. 
     "What's happening?" Kevin asked Rogue in a whisper. 
     Rogue smiled down at him.  "They're considering it," she
whispered back, "conversing by thought."
     "Telepathy?  Can you tell what they're saying?" 
     "No.  They're blocking me out.  Just wait, and be silent." 
     "That's what you told me before.  And if I had, you'd be
vapor by now!" 
     Rogue slid her arms down his chest and pulled him back
against her.  She bent and kissed the top of his head lovingly. 
"I know," she whispered, "and you were wonderful!  I love you,
whatever happens!" 
     Kevin grinned up at her.  "Well, if they vaporize you,
they'd better do the same to me and stick me in there with you. 
At least we'd be together, and," with a nod toward the setting
sun clearly visible through the bay window behind the divan, "I
have a feeling I'm going to be unemployed tomorrow, thanks to
you." 
     She nuzzled him.  "I can fix that." 
     "Don't you dare!" 
     The speaker had turned and was clearing his throat.  "May I
interrupt this little conversation?" he asked. 
     Rogue flushed and bowed her head.  "Of course, Revered One,"
she said quickly.  "I'm sorry." 
     "You should be relieved.  And truly grateful!  This mortal
has done something we would have thought unthinkable before we
came here.  He has convinced us to give you another chance, but
only one.  Only one!  Do you understand?" 
     Kevin looked up at her quickly.  Her eyes were closed, and
she was biting her lip.  "Yes, Revered One," she whispered.  "I
thank you.  I am truly grateful." 
     To Kevin, the speaker continued, "The lamp will remain in
your possession, and will continue to be Rogue's retreat whenever
she wishes to leave the world.  Her primary purpose, however,
will be to serve and protect you.  If at any time she fails to do
so, and, as a result, you feel you are in jeopardy, you have only
to call out to us with your mind; she cannot prevent you from
doing that.  If you do, we will hear you and return, and she will
be a part of your life no longer.  On the other hand, be warned:
once you call us, there will be no turning back, no change of
mind.  Do you fully understand this?" 
     "I do," Kevin replied, "and I, too, thank you, for your
trust." 
     The speaker looked up at Rogue.  "There is more hope than
trust," he said quietly.  "Rogue, for centuries you have been a
source of embarrassment and sadness for us, the only genie to
reject the call and travel a path we could not permit.  In your
relationship with this mortal we see now a chance for rectification, 
an opportunity for you to find a proper path and return to
the fold.  We hope and pray that this will be so.  Farewell!" 
     And they were gone. 
     Kevin turned to look up at Rogue for a long moment.  Then he
was in her arms, bent backward by the power of her embrace, and
his feet left the floor as she swept him up to capture his open
mouth with hers.  All sense of time was suspended, submerged in
the feeling of her powerful arms enveloping him, the pressure of
her magnificent body against his and her tongue invading and
exploring his willing mouth.  The boldness was gone; now he was
but a receptacle for her passion, compliant and yielding as she
molded his body to hers, yet responding with a passion equal to
her own. 
     Finally, when she released him, he realized that they were
in the bedroom and that she was laying him on his back on the
bed. 
     "Did you zap us in here?" he asked in wonderment. 
     "Nope," she grinned.  "Carried you in here all the way, to
finish what we started--before we were so rudely interrupted!" 
     He shook his head.  "I'm not sure I can, my love.  In case
you hadn't noticed, this has been one hell of a day!  Although I
have to admit, the thought of losing you was scarier than anything 
that foul mouthed female back at the bar could have done to
me...I'm exhausted!" 
     Rogue giggled.  "She really did have a filthy mouth, didn't
she?  I couldn't help but wonder how it affected you, my prissy,
little man!" 
     "It turned me completely off, that's how!  I hate hearing
language like that from a woman--or from anyone, for that matter."  
A thought struck him.  "My God, I'd completely forgotten! 
That poor guy back at the bar, she practically destroyed him! 
We--I mean you--should go back and see if you can do anything for
him!" 
     She nuzzled his cheek.  "Already taken care of, my love,"
she replied.  "I fixed him up and put him in his pickup before I
came in.  He was still out when I left him, and probably still
is, but when he wakes up he shouldn't have anything worse than a
painful memory."  She hesitated, frowning.  "Come to think of it,
maybe I should have fixed that, too!" 
     Kevin laughed.  "I think he can live with that," he said. 
"I worry when you start tinkering around with people's minds." 
     She pursed her lips, then suddenly rolled over on top of
him, her massive frame pressing him deep into the mattress.  "How
about I should tinker around with your body," she murmured,
"starting right now!" 
     Before he could answer the doorbell rang, followed by the
sounds of a fist pounding on the front door.  "Kev!  Are you in
there?  You must be 'cause your car's downstairs!  Open up or I'm
callin' the manager!" 
     It was Josh's voice. 
     Kevin looked over at his alarm clock.  It was six in the
evening.  He called back, "Josh!  Keep your shirt on!  I'm
coming!" and tried unsuccessfully to push Rogue off him. 
     She was pouting.  "That a friend of yours?  I could zap
him..." 
     "No!  Get off me and get me a robe, will you?  He must be
worried about me or he wouldn't be here, and I can't answer the
door stark naked!" 
     She sighed, rolled off the bed and snapped her fingers, and
he was in his robe.  He got up, walked quickly to the door,
unlocked and opened it and stepped back.  Josh was standing
there, his big, flaccid figure in a rumpled business suit,
loosened tie and shirt open at the neck.  As expected, he pushed
his way into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. 
     "Kev!" he exclaimed.  "You okay?  Why didn't you come to
work today or at least call in?  And where the hell were you? 
You must have at least six messages on your machine!" 
     Kevin sighed.  "It's a long, long story," he replied wearily.  
"Am I going to have a job tomorrow?" 
     "Yeah, I covered for you.  Told the super you'd called in
sick and talked to me, and that I got busy and forgot to tell him
and Personnel.  What the hell happened...Judas Priest!" 
     Josh' jaw had dropped, and his eyes were staring past Kevin
at the door to the bedroom and almost bulging out of their
sockets.  Kevin turned his head to see Rogue's massive figure
towering, her powerful muscles flexed and bulging, in a provocative 
pose in the doorway, dressed now in a skimpy, almost transparent 
negligee that left nothing to the imagination and slippers
with heels at least 5" high.  The top of her head was a good 2"
above the jamb.  As the two men gaped up at her, she sauntered
sexily across the room to drop a massively muscled arm over
Kevin's shoulder and down his chest and press him back against
her with the top of his head just below and between her breasts. 
     "Who's your friend, baby?" she asked in a low, deliberately
sultry voice.  "Aren't you going to introduce me?" 
     Kevin sighed.  "Ah, Josh, this is..." he hesitated, and then
gave a resigned shrug.  "Rogue.  Rogue, meet Josh Langren, my
best friend."
     Rogue's smile was dazzling as she reached over Kevin's other
shoulder to extend a huge hand to Josh.  "So nice to meet you,
Josh," she drawled.  "Any friend of baby, here, MUST be a friend
of mine, even though you DID interrupt something...didn't he,
baby?" 
     Kevin choked.  Josh' mouth was still wide open, and his
eyes, still bugeyed and well below Rogue's chin, gaped up at her
as his big hand disappeared momentarily into Rogue's larger one. 
"Ah... well..." the bigger man stammered.  "I--ah...well, I
didn't know...and...ah--I was worried, you see...and...ah...well,
it's--ah, nice to meet you..."  As his voice trailed off into
silence Kevin could not help noticing a growing bulge in the big
man's trousers. 
     Rogue saw it, too, and gave Josh another, dazzling smile. 
"Isn't that sweet, baby?" she cooed.  "Your friend was worried
about you and came all the way over here to make sure you were
all right!  And not only that, but, if I'm not mistaken, your
friend is as turned on by great big, strong, muscular girls as
you are!" 
     Josh flushed a deep red, but managed to mumble, "You--you'd
turn anybody on, tootsie.  Kev, what the hell's goin' on here?" 
     "Tootsie?"  Rogue's eyebrows went up a mile, and before
Kevin could respond, she stepped around him and slid her hands
under Josh' armpits.  "And what if they can do THIS, Joshie,
boy?" she murmured and effortlessly lifted the big man a foot off
the floor to hold him at arm's length in front of her. 
     Josh gasped in open mouthed amazement.  "Hey!  What th--! 
P-put me down!" he yelped.  "Kev, where the hell did this babe
come from?"  But even as he spoke, the bulge in his trousers
snapped fully erect, a miniature tent pole stretching the fabric
tight over its throbbing tip. 
     Rogue giggled and dangled him a foot higher.  "Oh, look,
baby," she cooed, "I do believe Joshie LIKES being picked up by
big, strong girls!  Shall we tell him where I come from?" 
     Kevin was behind her, his hand on her bicep, pulling futilely 
on her arm.  "Rogue, come on!  Put him down, please!" 
     She sighed and slowly lowered Josh to the floor.  "Party
pooper!" she laughed, blowing Kevin a kiss.  "I really think he
was enjoying it." 
     Josh was gaping in flustered disbelief, his eyes darting
back and forth between Kevin and Rogue, and trying unsuccessfully
to cover his pulsating erection with his suit coat.  "Lady,
you're--you're too much!" he stammered, and then to Kevin, "She
do this to all the guys she meets?" 
     "Only the ones who call me cutsey names, like 'tootsie' or
'babe'," Rogue responded sweetly, patting his cheek. 
     "Oh."  Josh' face turned beet red again.  "I get the point. 
Sorry." 
     "Apology accepted, Josh, thank you." 
     Josh was struggling to recover his composure.  "You--you two
mind if I sit down for a sec?" he asked, and, without waiting for
an answer, went around them to drop heavily onto the divan and
cover his crotch with his arms.  "You know, Kev, after worrying
about you all day, this is a little much!  Look, I don't mean to
pry into your personal life, but, if you'll remember, I spent all
day yesterday cave hopping with you.  You said you were going to
spend last night working on that lamp you found, and now I come
here to find you shacked up with this...this..." 
     "Amazon?" Rogue prompted him sweetly. 
     Josh shook his head, his face still a mask of disbelief. 
"Lady," he replied earnestly, "that word doesn't even begin to
describe you!  Where the hell did you come from?" 
     Rogue giggled and slipped an arm over Kevin's shoulders.  "I
really think we ought to tell him, baby," she murmured.  "After
all, he is your best friend, and he did protect your job today." 
     Kevin shook his head.  "Josh, if I told you, you wouldn't
believe me." 
     "Try me." 
     "Josh, if I tell you, you have to promise to keep this
strictly between us.  You can't say anything about this to anyone
else, or all hell would break loose." 
     Josh gave him a strange look.  "Yeah.  Sure," he said. 
     "You promise?" 
     "Promise.  Scout's honor.  Now what the hell is this all
about?" 
     Kevin sighed.  "Okay, you asked for it."  He gestured to the
lamp on the coffee table in front of the divan.  "She came from
there." 
     "Huh?  From where?" 
     "From there.  From the lamp." 
     Josh' face went blank.  His eyes darted from Kevin to Rogue
and back again.  "Oh," he said.  "Yeah.  Sure.  Uh-huh..." 
     "Josh, Rogue's a genie.  Remember, you were kidding me about
it being Aladdin's Lamp?  Well, you were half right.  She was in
there, and I freed her from it last night." 
     "Yeah.  Sure.  And I'm Mickey Mouse." 
     "I could arrange that," Rogue said with a smile. 
     Josh stood up.  "Okay," he muttered, "you two want to put me
on, that's okay.  Forget I'm your best friend.  Forget I sweated
all day worrying about you while you were shackin' up with this
mountain of female muscle.  Forget I even came here!  I'm
leavin'!  Goodbye!" 
     He started around the coffee table, but Rogue blocked his
way and put a hand gently against his chest.  "I really think
Josh needs some convincing, darling," she said to Kevin. 
     Warning bells started going off in Kevin's mind.  "Ah, just
what have you got in mind?" he asked, not certain he wanted to
hear the answer. 
     Rogue glanced down at the big man's crotch.  The bulge,
which had subsided somewhat when he sat down, was growing again
as he stared up at her.  She gave him another, dazzling smile. 
"Well, let's see," she mused, "from the look of him, your friend
is obviously turned on by big, strong women, but with his, shall
we say, weight and appearance problems he'll never be able to
find and interest a girl big and strong enough to REALLY turn him
on--except for me, of course, and I'm already taken.  Baby, I
think we need to make him smaller.  MUCH smaller!" 
     "Rogue!" Kevin screeched.  "No!" 
     SNAP! 
     Josh, as Kevin knew him, disappeared.  In his place stood an
attractive, slender, six foot one inch young man in a perfectly
tailored, neatly pressed business suit.  Kevin had to look twice
to see that the facial features and suit were the same, albeit on
a considerably altered scale. 
     He breathed a sigh of relief.  "Thank God!" he breathed.  "I
thought for a minute you were going to reduce him to insect
size!" 
     Rogue blew him a kiss.  "For a minute," she replied sweetly,
"I was tempted..." 
     Josh was examining his new figure with stunned amazement and
disbelief.  His mouth was open and his eyes darting from Rogue to
Kevin to himself.  He tried to speak, but his mouth could only
form soundless, unintelligible words.  Finally he simply collapsed 
back on the divan and closed his eyes.  "This has gotta be
a dream!" he was finally able to croak.  "Will somebody PLEASE
wake me up?" 
     Rogue sat down next to him, put a massively muscled arm
around his shoulders and patted his cheek affectionately. 
"There, there, little fella," she soothed, "everything's real,
and you're still the same, lovable you, only now you're the right
weight for your height.  One hundred sixty five and one-half
pounds, to be exact.  And I must say, you're positively handsome! 
There's a full length mirror in the bedroom.  Why don't you go in
there and take a look at the new you?" 
     Josh looked up at her with a wild, helpless look in his
eyes.  "You--you really ARE a genie?" he choked. 
     "The genuine article, baby," she smiled.  She slid her hand
under his buttocks and gently lifted him to his feet.  "Now, run
along into the bedroom like a good, little boy and take a long
look at yourself, and then come back and tell us if this isn't a
two hundred percent improvement over the old Josh." 
     Like a man in a dream, Josh mumbled something unintelligible
and stumbled out of the room into the bedroom.  Rogue chucked,
beckoned to Kevin with her forefinger, and, when he came over to
her, pulled him down on her lap and cuddled him against her,
pressing his head firmly against her shoulder. 
     "Poor Josh!" she murmured.  "It's going to take a while for
him to figure this out." 
     "He will."  Kevin stretched up to kiss the base of her neck. 
"It doesn't always show, and we kid each other a lot, but he's
brilliant, and a real sweetheart." 
     "He certainly seems to be a good friend.  Not many people
would do what he did for you today." 
     "Not only that, but, knowing our boss, he probably took some
personal heat over it.  I owe him one." 
     Josh appeared at the bedroom door, saw them on the divan and
did a double take, then shook his head in wonderment.  "I still
don't believe this," he muttered.  "Nobody in his right mind
could believe this!" 
     Kevin laughed.  "Believe it, Josh.  It's real!" 
     "So what gives with Andrea the Giantess, here?  You two
obviously have a thing goin', but I can't see the two of you on a
dance floor together!" 
     Rogue sighed.  "Josh, I really think I'm going to have to do
something about that personality of yours..." 
     "You leave his personality alone!" Kevin piped up.  Then he
grinned.  "Actually, until he opens his mouth, he's really a very
nice guy!" 
     Josh grimaced.  "Thanks heaps, buddy," he growled.  "I'll
remember that the next time you don't call in sick 'cause this
mountain of muscle won't let you out of bed!" 
     Rogue nuzzled the top of Kevin's head.  "Baby," she cooed,
"I'm beginning to think Josh is jealous of you!" 
     Josh' face was suddenly serious.  He sat down in a chair
opposite the divan and looked earnestly at his two companions. 
"Okay," he said finally, "I'll admit it.  Rogue, women like you
turn me on like a faucet.  As a matter of fact, you're the ONLY
kind of woman who CAN turn me on.  Not these little, female
bodybuilder types, but a great, big, six foot plus, mountain of
muscle like you.  I have to confess, though, Kev, I never figured
you to have the same taste in women as I do." 
     Kevin grinned.  "I don't tell you ALL my secrets, my
friend," he said. 
     "Yeah.  Anyway, I guess part of the reason I let myself go
to pot was that I figured I could never meet the kind of woman I
wanted and didn't care about the rest." 
     "Well," Rogue smiled, "now you can." 
     "Really?  And how many women--I mean REAL women--like you do
you think are out there?" 
     Rogue sighed.  "There he goes again.  And just what makes
you think I'm not a real woman?  I may be a genie, but in this
form I'm as real as you are!" 
     Josh held up his hands defensively.  "Okay, okay, sorry! 
Put my foot in my mouth again!  Anyway, there's another, little
problem you two geniuses haven't thought of.  How the hell am I
gonna go to work lookin' like this?  They probably wouldn't
recognize me or let me in the door.  And even if I could get in,
how could I explain it?  Instant diet?  Come on!" 
     Rogue pursed her lips.  "You know, baby," she mused, "he has
a point." 
     "You're right."  Kevin thought a moment.  "Josh," he said
finally, "I think what you need is your own genie." 
     "Yeah.  Sure." 
     "I mean it.  Someone who could let you be yourself during
the day and slim you down at night." 
     "Uh huh.  Sure." 
     "And make you go on a diet and take care of yourself so you
could eventually look like this all the time." 
     "And keep you in line.  Maybe even fix your personality,"
Rogue added. 
     Josh shook his head, and then started to laugh.  "Well, as
long as we're fantasizing," he said, "you wouldn't happen to have
a sister, would you, Rogue?" 
     Rogue looked at him slyly.  "As a matter of fact," she
murmured, "I do." 
     SNAP! 
      
                               -30-