(This is a funky story; while certainly on the vulgar side it begs a good
deal of analysis (the point of the story doesn't exactly jump out at you.
Whatever the case, I hope it's worth the read.)


	"Old Master, I-"
	"-have more respect than many of your age, I can see," said the
bundle of robes.
	"But how... so you are indeed a wizard!"
	He opened his eyes and stood with a sigh. Turning around, he
looked this one up and down. Her slender frame was backlit by the light
of a foggy spring morn, but his senses told him that she was a pretty
child of perhaps 15 years, light of foot, strong of mind, and sharp of
tongue. Her ears were filled with praise, her nose with the scent of the
evening wind, and her eyes with jealousy and lust.
	"And what of it?"
	"If you knew my coming then surely you know of the reason for
it..." she prompted, her eyes glittering beneath her lashes.
	"I am sorry, child, but I fail your test. The air brings me gifts
from time to time, but I cannot demand answers of it any more than you
could demand rain of the cloudless sky. Better that I should simply ask
of you what I wish to know rather than waiting for the air to tell me."
	"I will tell you, then," she said in an affectation of coyness,
digging one of her sandals into the hard rock that was the ground. "I
wish to be taller."
	"Taller!" The bundle of robes shifted slightly. "Why then?"
	"Korlis has eyes only for my sister. He neglects poor little me
because he does not see me."
	The bundle of robes began walking to the edge of the cavern, and
then came towards her. As it neared the light, she could make out bland
features in a face which was neither young nor old, but seemed wise
enough to her. "You think," the wizard spoke, "That a man loves a woman
for her height?"
	"Not so," she responded easily, "But the heart does not love that
which the eyes cannot see!"
	The mystic looked the girl up and down. Yes, she was indeed small
in stature. "It is not the heart that loves," he murmured, bringing a
quizzical expression from the girl. "If you wish to be taller, then I
will fulfill that wish. But you must offer me something of yourself in
return."
	"Anything! I am only glad that you do not wish to lecture me!"
	"It is a good thing that I already have the Innocence I need,"
the man whispered, but she was not certain whether she heard him
correctly. "You must give to me your grace."
	"My grace?"
	"You will not be clumsy," he said, "I will leave you with your
agility. But no more will you sweep into and out of a room, no more will
your actions carry a flourish. You will be as a man in your movements;
simple and direct."
	"But Korlis will not appreciate me if I cannot dance-"
	"As I said, I only want your grace. You will still be able to go
through the motions-"
	"That isn't dancing at all!"
	"And does a man then love a woman for her grace as well as her
height?"
	The girl bit her lip, then shook her head. "No. And I will gladly
trade my grace to be taller."
	The man nodded, as though it was of no real interest to him.
Reaching over in a casual gesture, he lifted her off of the ground. She
was shocked at first, but too proud to cry out. Her raven hair spilled
onto the floor and mingled with the shadows as he took her to the center
of his cave. She could hear the sloshing of water beneath her and
realized there was a pool in the middle of the chamber, into which she
was being lowered. The water was chill against her legs, and the hairs
stood up on her body, but she did not resist.
	Of a sudden she became aware of a strange sensation, of
stretching, of her bones and ligaments growing, of her body enlarging
itself, especially in her legs. So engrossing was the feeling that she
almost failed to notice ribbons of pale light swimming away from her and
into the pool which lapped greedily at her limbs. Soon her bones settled
into their new lengths and the mystic stood her up. Her legs shook at
first, like those of a newborn calf, but soon enough she now found that
she could look him in the eyes. She was indeed much taller.
	"Oh, thank you," she said, not in the joyous fashion of a girl
but in the sultry manner of a maid. She raised one of her long legs to the
wizard's hips and pressed her chest against his side. The wizard did not
seem moved by the huskiness in her voice or the nearness of her young
body and simply helped her from the water. She was not disappointed or
indeed particularly surprised by this, so she simply released herself
from his touch and left his cave, thoughts of Korlis and her sister's
surprise wandering through her mind.
	The wizard turned to look at the pool, trying to contain his
excitement. Taking a deep breath, he walked back to the far side of the
cave and, sitting again with his back to the entrance, closed his eyes.

	That night the wizard had a dream, of two raven hared girls who
stood facing each other. The shorter one looked at the other with
surprise; the other responded with cool disinterest, and looked
distractedly out the window, as though expecting someone. There came a
knock at the thresh-hold, and the taller maiden rose to part the curtains
which served as a door-

	The mystic jumped, clutching his heart.
	"The air did not speak to you this time?"
	He stood and looked at her. Although she was all but blind, she
felt his eyes scrutinizing her through the darkness of his cave. "Are you
dissatisfied?"
	"No," she said. "Or rather yes. I am very pleased that you made
me taller, Old Master, and have come to thank you. However I wish for
more from you."
	"What then?" The maiden turned away for a moment, unsure of what
to say, and her hair flew behind her. He saw firelight in her hair, and
the sight of a handsome youth. His jaw was chiseled and his figure strong
and firm. He was not looking at the tall maiden. "Korlis still has eyes
for your sister."
	"He notices me, but is not enraptured. I want to steal his
breath!"
	"What do you want?"
	"Nobility! I wish to be-"
	"I cannot give you that."
	"What? But why?" her disappointment would have been obvious to
anyone, no matter how deaf they were to the whisperings of the universe.
	"I cannot give you something which you do not have. I can change
existing attributes, but I will not give you a new one."
	"Do you then not deal in such things? You took my grace, why can
you not give me nobility?"
	"I needed your grace. And I have no nobility to give you."
	"You needed-" She threw up her hands in disgust. "Ugh, no matter.
I can see that I have all from you that I will ever get."
	"Not so," he stopped her as she tried to leave around the pool.
"I am certain that I have some way of helping you."
	The girl smiled secretly; she sensed eagerness in his tone now.
"How then, will you go about doing this?"
	"Is there nothing else which men desire? Let me aid your
complexion. I could easily clear it of all blemishes, of every scar. You
would be as white as any princess you came here wishing to be."
	The maiden thought about this for a moment. She did not like to
admit it, but, like many girls her age, she was hardly free of pimples.
And there were the scars from her father's belt along her back. It would
indeed be a good thing to remove them. But best not to sound too willing...
"And what then must I give to you?"
	The mystic paused, and she cursed the darkness which prevented
her from reading his expression. "Your virginity."
	"My..."
	"You have not lost it yet, much as you desire to."
	"It is a great thing you ask-"
	"Not so. Your maidenhood means little to you. You are eager to
give it to Korlis, are you not?"
	A sudden vision of her long legs held wide to accept the fair
hared youth flashed through her mind, and the wizard knew it. "Very
well," she sighed, "I will accept your terms." Inwardly she smiled.
	Again he lifted her up, again he carried her to the water, again
he lowered her inside. Her skin tingled, and waves of heat washed over
her in sharp contrast to the chill of the pond. It was an uncomfortable
sensation, but she grit her teeth and persevered, knowing that when she
rose again she would have the skin of a princess. She was oblivious to a
ribbon of pale light which wafted from between her legs and dissipated
into the rippling waters.
	Again the wizard raised her to stand, again she thanked him, this
time by whispering huskily into his ear. Her breath was warm on his neck
but, again, he escorted her to the edge of the pond without accepting her
unspoken offer. She frowned this time, but quickly realized that with her
fair skin few could resist her. What interest did she have for this bland
faced mystic and his pond?

	That night, the mystic dreamed of a festival. Poles were erected,
colored streamers twisted around them, carried gaily by the hands of
children. Torches burned in the hands of merrymakers. A maiden with long
black tresses was surrounded by a group of youths, who were lifting her
onto their shoulders. On her brow was a crown of holly, and she smiled
slyly with ruby lips set in a face as white as the twilight sky as the
youth called Korlis extended his arms to her and took her down and away
into the woods where the darkness was absolute.

	The last time the maiden came to the wizard, he was waiting for
her at the front of the pond.
	"Thank you for my fair complexion," she said to him.
	"You are welcome. It has been long since I last heard from you,"
he told her, "What do you come here seeking now? Has Korlis grown tired
of you?"
	"Korlis?" She laughed. "What of him? Let my sister have him
back."
	"Then what do you desire? Have I given you all of this only to
find that you-"
	"You gave me nothing, Old Master," she reminded him. "I traded
you my grace and my maidenhood."
	"Neither of which you miss."
	"Well..."
	"Then what more do you wish for?"
	"I am not like the other girls. They are small minded and
unimaginative. Why should I settle for one man when I could have all of
them?"
	"I cannot give you the love of all men you meet," he said, worry
creeping into his voice.
	"You can give me the voluptuous breasts of a giantess," she
whispered.
	"Do men then love a woman for her breasts?" He asked, knowing
what her reply would be.
	"What is it to me what men love? It is not their love but their
lust that I wish to inspire!"
	"You know well what you want," the wizard said. "But again I must
ask something of you."
	"Speak, Old Master."
	"Your mind."
	"My WHAT?
	"You heard me."
	The maiden grew exited. "How will I think to appreciate their
adoration? How will I reason in order to manipulate and control them?"
	"With your stature, your complexion, and the bosom you desire,"
the wizard interrupted, trying to soothe her, "you will need nothing more
to manipulate and control them. And you will not need to think to
appreciate them- only feel. You will not be bereft of consciousness any
more than you were bereft of coordination when I took your grace. But
your shrewdness, your understanding, your guile, all will be lost. You
will be as the beasts."
	"It is no small thing you ask of me!"
	"Nor is it a small thing you ask of me. You know that while you
are fair, men will still not worship you. With breasts as big as your
heart desires, you would have all that you require."
	She did not speak.
	"All your life you wished to be something which you were not. Now
do you find yourself satisfied with your lot? You spoke of the girls at
your village, calling them small of mind. Yet now do you number yourself
among them? If you were to place yourself in my hands, you would lack for
nothing. You did not miss your grace, you did not miss your virginity.
And with a figure more voluptuous than any other's, you would dominate
the manhood of every youth who gazed upon you. You would not miss your
mind any more than your grace or your virginity."
	She paused, and then in a rush, sighed, "Yes. Yes! I will do it.
Make me into a goddess!"
	She was in his arms again, and descending into the pool. The
water caressed her long legs and silken skin, bringing a thrill to her
which was not overshadowed by the eagerness of anticipation. And then it
began- subtly at first- a tugging at her breasts. Her fingers worked up
to her bodice which she began to untie as her bosom began to stretch and
swell. Her breasts clove to one another, pushing upwards, outwards,
seeking to burst free from the confines of her clothing. She gasped in
pain, gritting her teeth. Her lips curled upwards in a feral grin as she
tore at the strings, ripping them apart. Instantly, her breasts gushed
free, bobbing and jiggling in the water. The pain did not stop- it only
increased as her flesh grew still more, until her breasts were bigger
than a man's handful.
	She arched her back against the wizard's grip, thrusting her
chest upwards and her head beneath the water. She screamed, her voice
coming out as a gargle as her breasts heaved and swelled into the air,
thrusting up boldly white, and smooth, as big as a child's skull. Her
nipples, large and erect, stung, and she moved her hands to massage them.
Still the pain continued, and her breasts grew still larger until they
had surpassed the size of her own head. Only then did the pain subside.
She was completely oblivious to the ribbons of light which were crawling
down her hair and into the water. The mystic lifted her up.
	Her breasts jounced and jiggled in the cold air, and she clutched
them possessively- or at least as much as she could grasp. Her hair fell
down around her shoulders, and rivulets of water fell along the contours
of her sublime breasts. She looked up at the mystic, feeling his hands
upon her body, and groaned, pushing into him. Faced with the immense
bosom she thrust into his face, he reeled.
	"Take me," she groaned, straddling him, "I want you inside of
me."
	The wizard blinked, swallowed, concentrated. Slowly, and with
great difficulty, he forced his blood to cool. Focusing on her lustful
yet guileless face, he pushed her gently away from himself and walked her
to the opening of the cavern. She whined at his refusal, but he ignored
her, releasing her from his touch. She did not thank him this time,
instead simply turning to jog away, trying in vain to prevent her huge
bosom from bouncing in front of her.
	The wizard watched her go and then, when her footsteps could no
longer be heard, he turned back towards the pool. He closed his eyes,
and, summoning his will, focused on the rippling waves. He found a body,
a mind, a heart, and a soul beneath its surface, and he drew them
upwards. Searching the deepest recesses, his psyche touched upon
virginity, and urged this towards him. Stretching his soul to the limits
of the pool, he grasped innocence, grace, and finally beauty, and pulled
them to the surface with all his strength, before he finally drew back
and, opening his eyes, fell to the floor.
	There was a sound of water falling upon water.
	A maiden arose from the pool, naked and shivering, to gaze upon
the mystic with bright and shining eyes for the very first time.







Copyright December 1998 by Mark Henshaw

_________________________________________
There is no wisdom without objectivity.

Email: HarkenBane@juno.com
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