I suppose before we get started I should introduce myself. I'm Melissa, the heroine of this little story.
Well, okay, I don't think it's that little, though "heroine" may be too strong a word for me. But I'm getting ahead of myself, and going fast instead of slowly step-by-step is how I ended up one time being seven feet tall and with boobs the size of—
There I go again, taking things out of order. I'll behave myself, honest.
It's hard to know where stories really begin. I mean, if we wanted to talk causative factors and trace them all the way back, we'd have to cover my entire childhood. Hell, we might even have to talk about my parents' childhood, so you'd know why they reared me like they did.
But for our purposes, let's say this story begins in the biological sciences building of Bulwer Elevester University.
I wasn't expecting Dr. Bonds to ask me to work for him. I mean, sure, it's obvious now. Twenty/twenty hindsight and all that jazz. But when he first approached me at the end of my freshman year, all I knew is that he did something involving biology, and I didn't care about biology. As far as I was concerned, biology was all squishy and nasty and involved carving up squids.
Then Bonds told me what he was working on: nanotechnology.
"Nanotechnology" is a little misleading. His tiny bots weren't quite on the nanometer scale, just on the sub-micron scale. This made them smaller than a red blood cell, and that was plenty small enough for what he wanted to do.
If only they weren't so dumb. Jemmy Bonds had been working on how to make them do what he wanted them to do for a long time. He hadn't been getting anywhere.
That's where I came in. In high school I'd done work on adaptive computer algorithms. One way to squeeze the maximum performance out of a minimum of code is to give up specifying exactly what a program should do. Instead, tell it how to acquire new facts from input and give it a rough framework on which to hang those facts. Teach the program how to learn, give it some overarching goals, and let it go.
I won't be modest: I was damn good. Good enough that I was a finalist in the Siemens Westinghouse science competition. By all rights I should've gone to MIT or CalTech. But Bulwer Elevester was willing to give me a free ride, and I wasn't sure science was really what I wanted to do with my life.
And here I went and signed up for a new science project. Bonds was convinced my adaptive algorithms were what he needed to make his critters go, and he managed to convinced me, too.
He also managed to convince me that what he was doing was interesting. I'd be working on the computer end of things, so I wouldn't have to deal with the parts of biology I didn't like. Plus I had personal reasons.
So I spent the summer between my freshman and sophomore years working for Jemmy Bonds. I didn't make all that much progress, but I had a blast. Dr. Jemmy had a grant from NIH, which let him buy a lot of cool toys. His lab's computer setup wasn't bad either.
I kept working for him during my sophomore year, though I made even less progress once I was distracted by classes. He didn't seem to mind too much, though. I think I was making enough progress on teaching the nanobots how to learn to satisfy him.
Then it was the summer before my junior year. By the end I was really starting to get somewhere. Early simulations were promising, and we had the possibility of moving into animal trials before I graduated from BEU.
The second semester of my junior year Dr. Jemmy went on a sabbatical. He told me to keep working, though. We kept in touch via email and the occasional phone call. And that's when things went crazy.
I mentioned that I had personal reasons for working on the project. Dr. Jemmy wanted to make nanobots that could hold wounds closed or watch for life-threatening narrowings in blood vessels.
I wanted nanobots that could improve me.
Oh, c'mon, like you've never wished you could fix something about yourself. Better skin, or a better-looking nose. Maybe Mother Nature gave you brown eyes when you would have been much happier with deep blue ones.
Trivial stuff, I know. But if the nanobots could alter those things, then we'd be on our way to really powerful bots, ones which could fix true genetic defects. How great would it be to be able to correct spina bifida while a child was still developing?
Sometimes I practiced my Nobel speech in front of the mirror.
But there were plenty of lower-grade improvements that would be easier to make. And why not try those improvements out on me?
It wasn't like I wanted to make radical changes. I wasn't stop-the-bus ugly or anything. In fact, I probably would've been decent-looking if I'd taken the time to exercise regularly and if I spent as much time in front of the mirror as my roommate Tara did. But it would be nice to look better than decent.
Besides, there was only so much I could do with what I'd been given: five feet two inches of height, stringy blond hair, hips that were a bit too wide, and breasts that were smaller than I'd hoped I'd end up with when I was twelve and started developing early.
By December of my junior year I had some trial algorithms working. The one to clear plaque from arteries was looking promising in early tests. With the help of a grad student from a nearby university Jemmy had put together a machine to assemble the bots. They were going to be von Neumann machines, capable of building new copies of themselves, so you only needed enough starter bots to pass a certain threshold and then foom! they'd take off. They had population limiters built in as well, so that they'd die off if their numbers got too big.
In short, most of the pieces were in place for my big fuck-up by the time Jemmy left for his sabbatical. I saw my chance to test some of my ideas while he was gone. I arranged my schedule so I only had two classes, both easy, and started spending most of my time in the lab. I'd occasionally show up in the cafeteria, grab a quick bite to eat, and then head back to the lab.
I think my friends started to get worried. Tara kept coming up with movies or parties for us to go to as the semester went on. I went to some, but often I'd just shake my head and tell her I had too much work to do.
Even my friend Derrick started to worry some. He was a biology major, and knew how easy it was to get wrapped up in a project. One day, shortly before I was ready to test everything out, he stopped by the lab. "I'd say 'there you are!' but really, where else would you be?"
"Convenient. Now you bring the abuse to me instead of me having to come to you to get it." I closed some of the windows on my computer screen. No need for Derrick to see the pictures of models I was using for body references.
"Part of my new service. You don't even have to tip me."
"What's up?"
Derrick shrugged. "Hadn't seen you in a few days, that's all." He ambled over and stared at my screen. "Still coding on those nanobots?"
"You know it."
"If my advisor were on a sabbatical you wouldn't find me in the lab all the time like you."
"That's because I have a work ethic."
"And a smart tongue to boot." He looked at the code I'd left on screen. "Hey, here's something I wanted to ask you. How are you going to get that code of yours to the nanobots? Will they all have to be programmed ahead of time?"
"Nah. Chances are the algorithms will need tweaking from time to time, and we want a way to shut them all down if we have to. We're using microwaves."
"Ooh, smart. Every time someone with your nanobots heats up a chili dog the bots will go crazy."
I rolled my eyes. "Clever. We've never thought of that. Our research is doomed because we overlooked microwave radiation from ovens."
"Fine." Derrick crossed his arms. "What's the answer, then, Madame Smartypants?"
"You mean other than the fact that microwave ovens are shielded? We're going to have messenger bots that stay near the surface of the skin. They'll get instructions beamed to them through microwaves, then relay those instructions to the rest of the bots, so we don't have to cook you to talk to the bots."
"'How to Serve Man Volume 2: The Nanobots.'"
"The protocol we're using to talk to the bots is highly redundant and has checksums." I saw Derrick wasn't quite following me. "To put it in terms you biology types can handle, we're going to make sure the bots know whether they're picking up an actual message or just background noise. Like from microwave ovens." In fact, the week before I'd built a small microwave transmitter the size of a TV remote that would work. Probably.
"And this works?"
I pointed to the computer. "It does in the simulations. We'll find out for real when we do the honest-to-goodness tests."
"Uh huh. And when are the tests?"
"Jemmy thinks we'll be ready for animal trials early next year." I had other plans, but you'd probably guessed that by now.
"Think it'll fly, Orville?"
"You bet, Wilbur. Just you wait."
Derrick wasn't the one who was getting impatient, though; I was. By the end of that week I figured I had a basic algorithm which would fix some of my minor defects. I celebrated by going to a Kappa Psi party with Tara. I never was that interested in partying, but Tara was a partying pro. She even managed a hook-up at most parties. I was used to going with her, only to see her sneaking out later with some young hottie who'd just decided she was bi or gay and wanted a romp with the more-experienced Tara.
She didn't at this one, though, so we danced and drank and I stood on the sidelines watching Tara flirt with girls and trying to get up my nerve to talk to some of the guys I fancied. Then it was more dancing, more talking with some friends—including Derrick, who normally didn't go in for parties—and then back to my dorm room.
Saturday. I pulled on some sweats and braved the cold January morning to go to the bio sci building.
Once at the lab, I took care of some preliminary prep work. Step one was a simple deadman-switch program. If I didn't key the right code into the computer an hour after I started the program, it'd call 911 and get an ambulance to rescue me. I also typed up some explanatory notes and put them in a big red binder marked FOR THE PARAMEDICS.
Step two was to double-check my algorithms. The bots would start out with a simple flocking algorithm and the messenger algorithm. I planned on adding the body mod stuff once I was sure the bots weren't going to kill me.
Step three was another deadman switch: if I didn't override the microwave signal generator every ten minutes, it'd broadcast the command to flush the bots out of my system.
Step four was to sit for ten minutes, breathing deeply and trying to convince myself that I wanted to go through with it.
I did, of course, even though I was so scared I kept seeing little flashes of light in my vision. The assembler built the minimum payload of bots, and I sucked them and their buffer solution up in a syringe. I put a modified blood pressure cuff around my arm—the microwave sig gen would use it to talk to the bots. I'd try my TV remote later.
"Come here, Watson, I need you," I muttered, then injected the bots into my arm. Good thing I'd had practice giving myself allergy shots all those years.
The solution was cold, but not very thick. And then the plunger was all the way down, the bots on their way through Melissa-land.
I turned on both deadman switch programs and sat there. I didn't feel all that different. In fact, I couldn't even tell I'd done anything, except that I was getting less nervous by the second.
The sig gen beeped and I overrode it. Ten minutes gone. It beeped again. Twenty minutes gone. Then thirty. Then forty.
I cleared the signal generator's program and turned off my 911 program. I wheeled over a microwave receiver, then had the signal generator send a query string to the bots. With any luck, the bots would count themselves and then report in.
The receiver was getting a broadcast from my body. Holy shit, the bots were spreading rapidly. At the rate they were going they'd hit the die-off limit in another hour.
I spent that hour triple-checking my planned algorithms, then queried the bots again. They were right at the die-off limit, give or take a few percent.
The bots were all in place.
I didn't do anything more with the bots that day. I cleaned up the lab and headed back to my room to study. Not that I studied, of course. I kept getting hungry and snacking, and in between snacking I checked my temperature. The hunger I'd half-expected, since the bots had used a lot of energy in replicating themselves, and they'd need to stockpile energy resources for later. My temperature never got much above my normal 99 F.
I ate a large lunch and an even larger dinner. The guys gave me grief about my dinner meal choices. "Hey, hey, hey, what's with the mound o' food?" Gerry asked when I sat down at the usual table.
"I'm hungry. Get off my back."
"Give her a break," Derrick told Gerry. "We're lucky she deigned to eat with us plebes instead of playing with her science toys."
"Besides," said Linda, "she's a growing girl. Or will be, after she eats all that."
I stuck my tongue out at Linda for that. "I happen to like pizza."
"And salad, and french fries, and green beans, and mashed potatoes, and ice cream topped with sprinkles, and some M&M's," said Gerry.
"Maybe I'll exercise it off," I told them loftily.
Derrick snorted. "Coding isn't exercise."
"Whatever. Not like y'all do any real work around here."
"That's not true!" said Linda in a wounded tone of voice. "We were just debating how hard the science in sci fi movies should be. Gerry's all for realistic gravity and thrusters and stuff, but the rest of us think he's just mad that Babylon 5's been off the air for so long."
I'll spare you the rest of the geek-fest and fast-forward to Sunday. Since the bots hadn't killed me, I figured it was time to make them do stuff. Back to the lab, and back to the two deadman programs. I updated some of the notes in the big red binder, then loaded my low-level improvement algorithm into the modified TV remote. On went the BP cuff and the two deadman programs, and then I put the remote against my non-cuffed arm and pressed the "channel enter" button.
It didn't kill me, which was a plus. I still didn't know if the algorithm would do anything. I was able to verify that the bots had received the instructions from the remote, but any changes to me would take time. The TV remote would kill all the bots if I hit the right button, so I took it with me before going back to my room.
The first effect I noticed was my acne, or my sudden lack of it. Two days after I'd sent the bot's instructions, I woke up with no acne. My skin was cleaner, less greasy.
Then my eyes got better. I'd been near-sighted enough to need glasses, but by the end of the first week I didn't need them any more. I went to Wal-Mart and bought some clear-glass glasses to replace my old ones, so no one would know. I could've lied and said I got contacts, but I didn't mind wearing glasses.
I also didn't get tired as often, and had more energy than I had in years. I started sleeping around four or five hours a night, then three. Tara was still sleeping like a normal person, so I'd go for walks, or watch TV in the dorm lounge.
I also went to more parties with Tara. I wasn't any better at chatting up the guys, but I danced like a maniac. Tara even took time from her busy frosh-hunting schedule to notice. "Girl, what's gotten into you?" she said one night as we went to grab some drinks between songs.
"What do you mean?"
"Your dancing's enough to wear me out." She leaned against a nearby wall and sipped her screwdriver. "And I've been hearing you moving around at night. You not sleeping well?"
"Um." Think fast, Melissa. "It's, uh, this new diet and exercise routine I'm on." And me drinking beer. The alcohol wasn't making me sleepy, though. If anything it was making me more awake and energetic.
Tara looked skeptical. "What, you taking speed?"
I laughed. "No, I'm clean. You know me. Too big a nerd to do drugs. I'm trying this new routine that's supposed to give you lots of energy and keep you from having to sleep as much." Man, I'd have to keep this story straight in case other people asked me about it.
"It really works?"
"Yep."
"If it works, maybe I should try it."
Time to backpedal. "You don't know if I'm going to crash soon and sleep for like a month. I've only been on this routine for two weeks." I needed something to distract her. "Hey, isn't that Yolanda over there? I hear she just came out."
"Oh?" Tara arched an eyebrow.
"You're so cute when you're hunting."
Tara made a dismissive noise, but I noticed her eyes didn't leave Yolanda's dancing form for a while. And the whole episode was what my dad would have called a learning experience. I needed to be more careful about showing off how good I felt.
Programmers are often driven by the need to make things better. This drive leads to creeping featuritis in commercial programs, and to our tendency to throw away decent code because we think we can re-write it better than before.
For me, it lead to wanting more improvements in my body. Everything the bots had done so far wasn't all that visible on the outside. Now I was ready for more extreme modifications.
Thing is, I didn't want changes that would be permanent. If I added an inch or two of height, I wanted to be able to go back to my old height. If I improved my muscle tone, I wanted to be able to choose how toned I was at any point. I could've instructed the bots to change me slowly, over the course of months, but I was impatient. I wanted to have access to a better body as soon as possible.
Okay, so, what changes did I want? I started making a list. I wanted to be taller. Not crazy tall, but being 5'5" instead of 5'2" would be a nice change. Better muscle tone, definitely. In fact, I'd like to look like I worked out regularly. Narrower hips, yeah, and better cheekbones. Add two cup-sizes to my boobs and I'd be set.
Figuring out what limits to set on the bots took a while. I didn't know how the bots would do what I wanted, but that didn't matter. The whole point of using adaptive algorithms was that I didn't have to specify the how, just the what. But I couldn't let them run amok. I didn't want them to make me three inches taller by lengthening my neck. Telling the bots "improve my musculature" was easy enough; telling them this without them making me a hyper-muscled freak took work.
Eventually I had specs on what human bodies looked like, and a way to teach the bots. I used a wide range of people to make my baselines, so the bots would know in general what I should look like regardless of what I asked them to do.
I did some further tweaking. I didn't want bigger boobs if they were going to sag. The bots would need to make the skin around my chest more resilient, and pull my breasts a little higher and taughter than they'd be naturally.
Heh, "naturally." None of this was natural.
Then I had to program my two-state appearance: normal Melissa, and the new-and-improved Melissa. That was another week of programming, simulation, and debugging. I stopped partying for a while, and even started going to the cafeteria at off hours so I could eat quickly without talking to Gerry, Derrick, and the others.
It was early February before I had my algorithm ready. I wired my TV remote to let me choose between normal and improved, put the BP cuff on, and beamed in the bots' new instructions.
From simulations I knew it'd take a few days before my new body was ready. What I didn't realize was that I'd go back to eating like a cow. On top of it, I slept for thirty of the next forty-eight hours. Good thing I'd sent the instructions on a Friday afternoon.
After that I was nervous about testing the system. I'd sit in my room, toying with that damn TV remote. I'd put it against my arm, then remove it. Then I'd put it back before removing it again.
I finally got enough courage to try it out one morning when Tara was in class. I went into the bathroom and closed the door, then stripped. I thought about locking the door, but didn't. If I fell over dead I didn't want Tara to have to break down the door.
The remote went against my arm, the better for the bots to hear the signal. I pushed the "Vol +" button.
Yow! That stung! My whole body felt like it was being stuck from the inside with tiny thumbtacks. The pain faded, but the prickling remained.
I noticed my height first. My bones were groaning inside me, sounding like tires on wet pavement. I stood back against the shower curtain and marked the progress of my growth against the fish on the curtain.
Seconds passed. In the mirror I watched my hips narrow suddenly, like my pelvis had contracted. My skin had cleared even more, and took on a darker tone. Heh. I'd forgotten that I'd requested a light tan. My hair took on more clean highlights and lengthened to my shoulders.
My tits were growing! I cupped them in my hands and let them slowly expand, forcing my fingers out. They were little water balloons. That was absolutely the weirdest sensation of them all. It took half a minute, but they topped off at the size of large oranges, and were firmer than my old ones. Hopefully they wouldn't look like I had implants.
I was so entranced by my magical mystical inflating breasts that I hadn't noticed my new muscles. I had defined biceps, toned legs, and the slightest hint of abs beneath my new chest. I turned side-on to the mirror and posed, arms flexed in front of me, chest stuck out. Man, I was fit!
And my boobs were high and firm. I wouldn't need much of a bra with these babies. Which made me wonder how I'd look clothed.
Peeking out of the bathroom, I saw Tara wasn't back yet. I snuck out and grabbed a t-shirt and some shorts I sometimes pretended to exercise in, then ducked back in the bathroom. They weren't much in the way of clothes, but they'd do. The shirt slid over my breasts; my nipples sprang to attention. The shorts were a little loose, elastic or no elastic. The end of the shirt dangled a half-inch above the shorts, pulled up by my wonder-tits.
I looked fabulous, even in grey slouch clothes. Toned arms, good cheekbones, long tanned legs—okay, long to me—and a sexy, sexy stomach. If the new me didn't turn heads, I didn't know what would.
Then it hit me: it had worked. It. Had. Worked. Nanobots that could change a person's body.
And here I was, all sexed up and nowhere to go. Who could I tell? Who could I show?
Aw, fuck. Talk about reality crashing down. Jemmy would kill me if word got out of what I'd done. I'd be quarantined faster than you could say "Typhoid Mary." Dr. Bonds's project would likely be shut down, and...and...
And I'd have to flush the bots out of my system, give up my lovely new body. No, I couldn't tell anyone. Not yet. Maybe not until Jemmy got to the human trial stage.
I took off my glasses and looked in the mirror. The new me didn't much resemble the old me. If I went somewhere I didn't normally go, I could see what kind of reaction I got.
Of course, all of this assumed I could go back to normal me. If I was stuck as improved me, the gig was up. My hand trembled as I held the remote against me and pressed the "Vol -" button.
I deflated, my height collapsing back to 5'2", my tan fading, my shirt falling across my small chest. That was good, right? Right?
Man, I had to come up with a place to try out the new me. I missed me already.
For as long as I'd been at BEU, the Green Room downtown was a big single's hangout. Not a lot of college students went there. The Green Room catered to the young preppies who worked at the high tech companies out in the research park. But the second Thursday night of every month, the Green Room had a wet t-shirt contest, with cash prizes.
I couldn't believe I was going to do this. I mean, I really couldn't believe I was going to do this. This so wasn't my speed.
The bouncer at the door looked at my ID, then at me. "We got a dress code." I opened my coat, revealing the white t-shirt and jeans I was wearing underneath. The bouncer just snickered at me. I'd have gone as the new me, but my ID belonged to the old me.
"You going to let me in or what?"
He shrugged and pointed to a makeshift stage inside. "Contestants wait by the stage. Guess you can wait there, too."
Ha ha ha. Cash prizes, I repeated to myself, cash prizes. I headed towards the stage, then glanced back at the bouncer. He wasn't watching, so I took a detour to the bathroom and into a stall.
I shook off my coat and hung it on the coathook. The remote was in one pocket. I'd borrowed a pair of Tara's jeans without her knowing. Even rolled way up they were too long for me.
My change was faster this time, and the prickly feeling was less painful. Beneath my white t-shirt I could see my boobs rising up and out. I'd picked the shirt to fit snugly when I was normal Melissa; as hottie Melissa, it was going to be a nice, tight fit. The shirt stretched, then stretched some more to accomodate my arms and chest. My rolled-up jeans cuffs rode up my newly-tanned legs. Hot damn, but I filled out this t-shirt nicely.
By now the other contestants were milling about beside the stage. Checking them out, I realized I had a bunch of competition in the size department. I had seriously underestimated how big some of the women would be. Of course, some of the big ones were pretty pudgy, and I was anything but.
I stood there quietly, not sure if I was really going to go through with this. I might've even left if it weren't for Tammy.
"Hi," this peroxide blond said to me, sticking out her hand. "I'm Tammy. Your first time?" So help me, she was smacking on some gum.
"Uh."
"Yeah, I thought so." She had big ta-tas, I'd give her that. "What's your name?"
"Melissa."
"If you wanna back out, I wouldn't blame you."
"What?"
"I'm saying, you might wanna back out." I stared at her. "You're not gonna win. What are you, a C?" I kept staring. "Yeah, you look like a C. I usually win, and I'm a D. This one chick beat me once, but she was at least a DD. And she knew how to shake them."
I could feel my stubborn streak rising. "Thanks for the friendly advice. I think I'll take my chances."
Tammy shrugged and went back to popping her gum. "Whatever."
And then this guy in a Green Room t-shirt was shoving us around. "Okay, ladies, here's how it works. You line up on stage, I ask each of you your name, I spray you with water, and whoever gets the most applause gets the cash. And nobody better have a bra on this time, you hear?"
We lined up on stage. The guy went down the row, asking each contestant her name. Then he hosed them down.
I was last; Tammy was two in front of me. When he hosed her down, her dark areolae shone through her wet t-shirt like spotlights. Damn, she was bigger than I'd guessed. She shook her shoulders back and forth while the crowd cheered.
It was my turn. "And what's your name?" the guy shouted into his mic.
Stage fright. Total and utter stage fright. "Melissa," I eventually squeaked out.
"Okay, everybody, let's hear it for Melissa!" And as he said my name he played the hose across me. My t-shirt turned translucent. The water was so cold my nipples jutted out instantly. The shock of the cold water made me hunch my shoulders in. Belatedly I pulled my shoulders back and stuck my boobs out.
Applause! People were applauding me! And not just applauding: there were catcalls and wolf whistles. For me! Well, maybe for my boobs, which showed clearly through my t-shirt, but they were a part of me.
I stood there, wet and shivering, while Mister Green Room said, "I think the winner is obvious! Tonight's winner of the Green Room Wet T-Shirt Contest is...TAMMY!"
Well, fuck.
At least they gave me a towel to dry off with. I watched Tammy strut around some while I towelled off and grabbed my coat.
"You should have won."
I looked up from wringing out my shirttail. "Uh-huh." He was good-looking, in that I-work-out-in-the-gym-all-the-time way. But a turtleneck? And a sports coat? Not that I was the height of sartorial fashion or anything myself, but c'mon.
"No, really. You stood out from the others. You had something special."
I was tired, it'd been a long night, and now some random guy was chatting me up while I dripped on the floor. I pushed my boobs up with my hands. "I don't know if you noticed, but we all had these."
"I, uh, that's not what I meant."
"Does that line ever work for you?"
He had the good grace to look sheepish. "I don't know. This is the first time I've tried it."
I laughed. He really was good-looking. He even had a nice tan. Of course, so did I right now. I stuck out my hand. "Melissa. But you already knew that."
"Rick." His handshake was firm but not crushing. "Did you bring drier clothes? I'd like to buy you a drink."
"Um. No, I didn't." Some Nobel-caliber genius I was. "And I've got class tomorrow."
"Oh. Do you go to BEU?"
"Yeah." I finished wringing out my shirttail. I'd have to wash these jeans before I snuck them back into Tara's closet. "Working on a degree in bio science."
"Listen," he said as he rummaged in his back pocket. "I'd really like to buy you that drink some time." His business card was pristine white, and was embossed with the logo of a local software company.
"You're a project leader?" I said, reading his card.
"It's a fancy name for a manager. I haven't been one all that long. I used to be a programmer."
"Well." I tucked his card in my coat pocket, then put the coat on over my sodden t-shirt. "We'll see." And I blew on out of there before I thought too much about the whole thing. The bus home was nearly empty, so I hunkered down in the back, held the remote to my arm, and deflated. Then I spent some time rolling Tara's jeans cuffs back up to fit the smaller me.
It was late when I got back to my room. Thank goodness Tara was asleep. I unrolled her jeans and put them in my closet, figuring I could take care of them during my usual weekend wash. I stashed the remote control. Crawling into bed, I fell asleep almost instantly.
I thought about it some more the next day. I hadn't been on a date in a while. Rick did say he'd buy drinks, so maybe he'd be up for more than drinks. I called him up at work and said, "Hey, this is Melissa. We're going out to dinner tonight."
If I was going out to dinner with Rick, I needed some clothes, most notably a bra. I wanted to be more respectably dressed for this outing.
I zapped myself that afternoon and took some measurements. Then I went back to normal, made sure I took that TV remote with me, and off I went.
Underwear was the first priority. My measurements had confirmed Tammy's guess: in my new guise, I was a C cup. I bought some bog-standard white bras and a lacy black one at a store in the mall. Nothing fancy, since I didn't have a lot of money. I ducked out of the store and into a mall bathroom stall, where I put on one of the white bras and punched "Vol +" again. The prickly sensation washed over me and I watched the empty bra fill with more and more of me. My cleavage grew as the bra compressed my tits together somewhat. I'd done my measurements well, because the bra fit fine once I was done growing.
I'd have to settle on one decent outfit. It took two hours' worth of shopping and trying on clothes, but in the end I had a sweet purple top with thin straps and a pair of pants that fit right, along with a new purse that went with the outfit. The way that tank-top draped over my breasts, showing off a bunch of tanned tit-flesh, would give Rick something to stare at.
To his credit, Rick spent most of dinner looking at my face and not my chest. When I walked into the Italian restaurant he'd chosen, he was waiting there. I saw his eyes go straight to my boobs before flicking away. I smiled to myself. I'd never had boobs men stared at before. As far as I was concerned, he could have stared openly at them.
Dinner was great, really. Rick turned out to be funny and have a sarcastic streak a mile wide. He was still a geek at heart, despite his management job and gym workouts. We talked a little about my classes at BEU, and a little about his job. It was kind of weird, being on a date with a guy who was some seven years older than me. Not that I minded: he was way more mature than most of the college idiots I'd gone out with.
After dinner, as we stood up to leave, I put my hand on his arm. "I'd invite you back to my place, but I don't think you'd like the dorm."
"I spent enough time in dorms when I was in college," Rick said. "Would you like to see my apartment?"
"I'd love to!"
His apartment, a short car ride away from the restaurant, was decent. A little heavy on that trendy steel furniture some people seem to go for. "You want a drink?" Rick asked.
"Sure, I'll take a screwdriver."
He returned with my screwdriver and what looked like a G&T for him. Rick gave me the quick tour of his apartment before we settled on his couch.
There was more idle talk before I finally decided that it was time to see what this body could do. I laid my hand on his leg and rubbed gently with my fingertips. "Dinner was great. And I like your apartment."
"Thanks." He shifted a little closer to me. "I'm glad you like it."
"You're not exactly what I expected. You're like a bunch of contradictory stereotypes rolled together."
"Do I contradict myself? Very well, I contradict myself." His grin was just a wee bit crooked. "And you're really something else. When I first saw you I had no idea you were a science type."
"Why? Because I look like this?" By this time I was up next to him. "Not every nerd has to look like one." And I leaned up and gave Rick a long, slow kiss.
He pulled back. "Are you sure? I mean, God, I want to, but I'm not going to be robbing the cradle or anything, right?"
As an answer I kissed him again, this time with a hint of tongue. He tongued back, slipping his arm behind me and around my waist. The kiss went on for a while. When it ended, Rick said, "This way to the bedroom." He helped me off the couch and led me down the hall.
He went slowly, which was nice, as nervous as I was. We stood there kissing for a while, our hands roaming around. The kisses got deeper, and then one of his hands was cupping my breast, rubbing my nipple through my shirt and bra. I pushed up tight against him and let my fingers make their way to his crotch.
Rick slid that purple top up and over my head. I went to work on unbuttoning his shirt, so I could run my hands over his pecs.
Several items of clothes later we were naked on his bed. He ran his tongue across my breasts, making me shiver. And when he finally entered me, it felt like an electric shock ran from my clit all through my body. Rick gasped at the same time, so I knew he was excited. His strokes were slow and firm. I rose closer and closer to an orgasm, gentle waves of pleasure moving through me.
Rick came first, hips thrusting forward and dick spasming. The feel of his hot cum inside me pushed me over the edge and I orgasmed, crying out with the feel of it.
We lay side by side, his fingers idly caressing my stomach and the lower curve of my boobs. As he did that I could feel my body revving back up. I rolled on top of him and kissed him deeply. "That was fabulous."
"Mmm, yeah."
"So fabulous I think we should try it again."
"We may have to wait a while before I'm up again," he said with a laugh.
I kissed him, then slid down his body. "I'll find something to pass the time." I took his entire flaccid penis in my mouth and gently sucked as I drew back. Rick's hiss told me he didn't mind. The second time his dick wasn't as small or as limp as before. The third time it was beginning to approach erect. I shifted to licking his shaft, then caressing his tip with my tongue, fluttering back and forth across it.
It didn't take too much more before he was ready again. I lifted up and gently impaled myself. Zow, but it felt two or three times better than before. Had the bots figured out how to make sex better?
They sure seemed to have done something, because when Rick reached up and cupped my breasts so he could play with my nipples, I nearly screamed with pleasure. When he sat up and sucked on one of my nipples, I came in a sudden rush, shuddering on his pole.
Rick turned, flipping us over, and began pumping in earnest. I'd barely come down from the one orgasm when I felt myself crescendoing towards another. He was panting, and I could feel his cock expanding as he got ready to cum. Then an orgasm blew through my system and I shrieked. Right after that Rick let fly, seemingly producing more cum than the first time.
I'd have thought that would finish our night. Rick turned on his side and I spooned up next to him. But my wandering hand found he'd gone hard again. We stayed spooned as I gently stroked his slick penis and kissed the back of his neck. My hand moved back and forth; he jumped every time I moved my cupped hand off of him and then back over his dick's head.
What a gentleman: after he'd had his orgasm, he insisted we reverse positions. Now it was my turn to be cuddled and stroked. His fingers wandered from my jutting nipples to my erect clit, back and forth, until I came.
We finally gave up there, electing to sleep for a while. Sometime in the middle of the night I woke up pressed against him and his throbbing erection. Sleepily I maneuvered myself onto his penis and watched him slowly wake up as I rocked up and down. The two of us came almost immediately, then drifted back to sleep.
He had to go in to work—on a Saturday!—so I cleaned up quickly, put on my rumpled clothes, and let him drive me back to BEU. I had Rick drop me off at the bio science building, since I hadn't reverted to normal yet. We kissed, and he said, "I'll call."
He didn't call.
"If he doesn't call you, forget the bitch." I'd told Tara I was going on a date, and she'd figured out what happened when I didn't come home that Friday night. As the week went on and Rick didn't call, and as I became more and more despondant, Tara kept giving me these improptu pep talks.
"Yeah, I know." I sighed. Just thinking about that night with Rick could get me all hot and bothered. "It's just that it was a lot of fun."
"No need to tell me how much fun hookups can be."
I frowned. "You know I'm not into one-night flings."
"You should be! Do you a world of good to loosen up."
"Maybe." I kept towelling off my hair. I'd taken up running, much to my and Tara's surprise, and had just finished a run and a shower. "I think I'm going to call him."
Tara just rolled her eyes. "If he said he'd call and he didn't, he's not interested."
I nodded reluctantly. "You're right. You're right." I pulled out Rick's business card. "I'm going to call."
Tara handed me our cordless phone and headed for the door. "I'll give you privacy for your little soap opera," she said as she left. I punched in Rick's number and listened to it ring.
Answering machine. "Hi, you've reached 555-4801." It sounded like Rick's voice. "No one can come to the phone right now, so please leave your name, number, and a brief message."
Oh, well. Might as well make the humiliation complete. "Hi, Rick, this is Melissa." Deep breath. Don't sound whiny. "I hadn't heard from you and—"
The answering machine clicked off and I heard someone fumbling with the phone. Finally, "Melissa?"
"Um, yeah."
"Oh, God. Oh, God. Are you okay? I didn't even think—listen, are you okay?"
That took me aback. "Yeah," I said slowly, "though I'm beginning to think I shouldn't be. Why?"
"You haven't been...sick since our date?"
You know how books are always talking about "icy fingers of fear" or whatever? Until that moment, I'd never experienced anything like that. "What's wrong, Rick?"
He was quiet for a bit. "The doctors aren't sure."
Shit. That didn't sound good at all. "Tell me what happened."
"After I dropped you off I went to the company gym, then to work. I wasn't feeling all that great, but I figured food would help. I ate a huge lunch, felt worse, and went home and slept all through Sunday. When I woke up, I was...something had...I wasn't right."
No, this wasn't good. Rick's "symptoms" sounded all too familiar. "Listen, Rick, I'm coming over!"
"No! I don't know if I'm contagious!"
"Did the doctors find anything wrong with you?"
"No, not really." He laughed humorlessly. "If anything I'm too healthy."
"Then I'll be right there. I want to see you."
"Melissa, don't—" I hung up on him, pulled on some clothes, and grabbed the special remote. On the long bus ride to his part of town I kept thinking about what might have happened. He had the bots in him; I'd wager money on that. Had they gotten into him through bodily fluids? That was the only transmission vector I could think of. I'd have to fix that.
Rick's apartment had those buzzer things outside the door. I punched his apartment and spoke into the speaker. "Rick, it's Melissa. Let me in."
"Come on up." He didn't sound thrilled to see me. "The door'll be open."
I went up the stairs and eased open his door. "Rick?"
"In here." His voice was coming from the bedroom.
"Rick, I wanted—" I pulled up short when I saw him. The bots had to have worked overtime on him. All of the careful limits I'd built into them for me must not have meant shit in his very different body.
You know how much more muscular pro body builders are compared to regular schmoes? Rick was that much more muscular compared to the body builders. He had on this super-large t-shirt and pair of shorts, and they still were stretched out. His legs were like tree-trunks, and his arms were gigantic. Through his t-shirt I could see his slab-like pecs. His arms almost didn't hang down straight anymore: they were pushed out by his biceps and his chest muscles.
And he was a lot taller. He'd been about six feet tall before; now I'd be surprised if he weren't more than seven. Lord knew how much he weighed.
"Hi, Melissa." His smile was tired. "Welcome to the freak show. Are you okay? You look really pale."
Fuck, I'd forgotten to change before I came up. I was little old me, with no tan and with shorter hair. "I, uh," think fast, Melissa, "I need to go to the bathroom." I fled into his bathroom and shut the door.
"I told you I was a freak." Rick said sadly.
I lowered the toilet lid and sat on that for a second to collect my thoughts. I had no idea the bots could do that to a human. He was immense, so built up that, that...
...that he was completely turning me on. How sick was I? Here was a guy whose body had been hijacked and turned into something alien without his knowledge or consent, and all I could think about was how those muscles would feel under my hands, or how much stamina he had to have.
The more I thought about Rick, the warmer I felt. In fact, I felt tingly all over—
No, not tingly. Prickly. I jumped off the toilet and went to the mirror. Staring back at me was a tanned beauty with perfect cheekbones.
My bra was really starting to constrict me. I stripped off my shirt and was greeted by a lot of tit flesh spilling out over the top of my bra. I reached behind me and undid the stressed clasps. Off went the bra, since my super-tits would be okay without one.
Well, that wasn't supposed to happen. Another mystery for me to solve at a later date. Right now I had to go face Rick and figure out how I could try the remote out on him without him knowing. If his "problem" went away, no one would be the wiser. The bots were programmed to self-destruct if they were removed from my body—hopefully that'd be true for Rick's body as well—so any blood samples Rick's doctors had drawn wouldn't show anything amiss.
I opened the bathroom door. Rick was sitting on his bed, making a huge dent in the mattress. "I told you not to come."
I went over to him and sat next to him. "Hey, hey, don't talk that way. You just startled me, that's all." This close I could see how defined all of his muscles were. Every time he shifted on the bed I watched them writhe under his skin. I closed my eyes and tried to remember why I was here. Don't jump his bones, don't jump his bones. Who knew I was such a muscle fan? "This happened fast, huh?"
"Yeah. I haven't been out of the apartment in a few days. One of my friends brought me some sweats, shorts, and t-shirts, the biggest he could find, and left them outside my door." I put my arm around him—well, on him, since there was no way my little arm would reach around him—and hugged.
"I'm sure it'll be okay." Maybe I could zap him if he slept. "Have you been sleeping well?"
Rick shook his head. "No, but I've not really been all that tired."
I stood up in front of him. "You should lie down." I started massaging his broad shoulders. My fingers could barely make an impression in his muscles. "Try to sleep a while."
"I just know I'm going to give you whatever this is that made me a freak."
"You're not a freak!" And I leaned forward and kissed him full on the mouth. Rick started to draw away, then leaned forward and crushed me to him.
I tugged him on his feet. With both of us standing, my head came up to the middle of his chest. Just below eye level was his increasingly-strained shorts. His boner was about to split them in two.
I pulled the elastic waistband of his shorts over his dick and just about had to roll them down his gargantuan thighs. I let my hands run over his thigh muscles, feeling them bunch and relax as he shifted his weight. He wasn't wearing underwear under them, probably because the shorts had fit him like underwear. When I stood up, the head of his penis was at my nose. How long was it? A foot, maybe a little longer?
When I leaned into him, he began stroking my hair and part of my back. I couldn't reach much of him except the obvious part, so I put my lips against the head of his penis. There was a little electric shock, like the one I felt when we first fucked. I wasn't going to fit his monster dick in my mouth, so I contented myself with sucking on its head and running my hands along its length. It was as big around as one of those twenty-ounce plastic bottles of Coke.
Rick was growling deep in his throat. Suddenly I was lifted off the ground, his hands under my arms. His biceps tensed as he stood me on the bed and stripped my clothes off of me. I retaliated by peeling off his t-shirt, revealing his magnificent torso.
He didn't bother taking off my shoes and socks, just the rest of my clothes. Once I was naked, he lifted me again and settled me gently on top of his pole. I slid down its length, nearly taking all of him. I wrapped my legs around his torso and put my hands on his shoulders. Then I could slide up and down his length, and in the process nearly drive myself crazy.
My hands may not have been free, but his were. He could cover one entire breast with his hand, which had grown along with the rest of him. He cupped my taut boobs and thumbed across their nipples, which sprang erect. Then he put his hands on my ass and guided me up and down gently.
I don't know if it was the bots, the fact that he filled me up almost all the way, or how turned on I was by his muscles, but I came nearly immediately, the room seeming to whirl around me. I dug my fingers into his shoulders and held on for dear life.
He wasn't done, of course, so he kept sliding me up and down his penis. I felt it swelling inside me as he neared release, and then he and I came together in a shuddering, messy, glorious climax.
His dick deflated, then became diamond-hard again. Still holding me, Rick rolled onto the bed, leaving me on top. I slid forward so I could kiss him, leaving some six inches of his dick inside. His hands were running all over me, gently, gently, and I massaged his muscles, like rocks swathed in velvet. His chest was twin plates.
Rick groaned as I moved further forward, sliding up and down just on his dick's head. He was stretching me out in delightful ways, and I could feel myself cresting towards climax again. "Oh, God, fuck me hard!" I shouted, and shoved as much in him as I could before he rammed against my cervix and the back of my head vaporized in the heat of another orgasm.
(Yeah, I know I sounded like a slut puppy. Who knew all it took to make me sound like a clichéd porn actress was an astoundingly-muscled man with a twelve-inch schlong?)
I hadn't been pressing this tightly to Rick the last time he'd come, so I had missed how all of his muscles bunched up just before his release. Muscles on top of muscles pushed me away from him, and then his cum was splashing inside me and running down my legs. Damn, it was a good thing I was on the pill.
I pulled off of him, then maneuvered my head over his semi-flaccid dick. I did the same trick I'd done the first night: I shoved as much of his dick in my mouth as I could manage, then sucked as I withdrew. He responded instantly, nearly choking me as his penis expanded inside my mouth. Then I put his rod between my boobs and slid along him, letting my tongue do the licking whenever possible. He kept getting harder and harder, until I could barely move his dick. When he came, he splashed the headboard.
The next trick he pulled was a doozy. He picked me up and maneuvered me so that I was held above him, my cunt at his mouth. Rick's powerful tongue played along my clit. He dove in and out, in and out, and with each plunge of his tongue he made me crazier and crazier. When my orgasm hit, I writhed in his hands.
He sat me down next to him and I curled up against him. We were both spent. His breathing gradually slowed, and then he was asleep.
I lay there for several more minutes, making sure he was truly asleep. Then I slid off of him and snuck over to the pile of my clothes. Ah, there was the remote. I snuck back over to the bed, put the remote against him, and pushed "Vol -."
I wasn't sure it would work at first, but then he began to shrink. It was kind of sad watching his muscles slump back to their normal size. His height dwindled over the course of a minute. Once he was back to normal, I hit the button to flush the bots out of his system for good. I stashed the remote and got back in bed with Rick.
Rick woke me up later in the day. "Look!" He was all excited. "I'm back to normal!"
I blinked my sleep-filled eyes. "Really?" C'mon, Melissa, act surprised. "Oh! How about that."
He looked thoughtful. "I wonder if it all had something to do with sex. Are you feeling okay?" he asked me.
I nodded. "Never felt better. I'm tired as all get-out, of course." When I sat up, my thighs protested. "You beat me hard with that stick of yours."
Rick grinned. "Yeah, we went kind of crazy there for a bit."
"You mind if I shower before I head back to campus?"
"Go ahead."
I gathered up my clothes, went into the bathroom, and belatedly removed my shoes and socks. Soaping my body, I found out just how sore I was. The bots may have given me better muscle tone, but I could still get very, very sore.
I was also very, very happy. I'd had some sex before, but never like this. Okay, true, I was a science nerd, and we weren't known for our high rate of fucking. But I'd had a few boyfriends in high school and college, and I'd had my share of fumbling sex with them. What I'd experienced with Rick over our two encounters was so much better than I'd had previously.
I didn't often get to shower in my new body, so I spent some time soaping and rinsing off my sensitive boobs and caressing my muscles. I never got used to how my boobs were firm and high on my chest without being rigid. I squeezed one with one hand and rubbed its soapy nipple with the other.
Whoops. If I didn't stop that I'd be in here all day. As it was I was getting myself all hot and bothered.
My old bra went in my pocket after I'd dressed. When I came out, I found Rick sitting on the bed, still looking happy that he'd returned to normal. "Listen," I said, "I'd better get back to school."
"Sure thing. You want me to drive you? I could take a quick shower..."
"No, that's okay," I replied. "I'll catch the bus."
"I'll call you," Rick said as I headed out the door. Yeah, sure you will, I thought. I bet you try to forget this ever happened. I wasn't going to, though. After what I experienced with Rick, I wanted to find some muscular guy to fuck.
Hm. If I couldn't find one, maybe I could make one.
"You what?"
My conversation with Derrick a week later wasn't going so well. "I decided to test Jemmy's nanobots."
"Yeah, but on yourself?" His voice kept rising to a near-squeak.
Maybe if I rolled my eyes he'd be calmer. I rolled my eyes. He wasn't any calmer. "I injected the bots into myself several weeks ago," I said, deciding to try to talk him down. "And, look! I'm not dead!" I raised my arms to show how dead I wasn't.
Derrick sat down in one of our lab's spindly, uncomfortable chairs. "Maybe, but God only knows what the things are doing to you."
"Clearing up my skin, reducing the time I have to sleep, fixing my vision." I handed Derrick my glasses. He glanced through them.
"Plain glass?"
I nodded. "I didn't want people asking questions, so I picked that pair up from Wal-Mart."
"And you're not sleeping all that much?"
"For a while I was sleeping for four or five hours a night, but these days three hours is plenty."
"No hallucinations?"
"If I were going to hallucinate, I certainly wouldn't hallucinate you being so angry." I pulled my chair up closer to him. "I took the bots, they made me better, and I'm all-around fine. They're coded to die off if they're removed from my body, and if necessary, I can flush them out of my system."
"If they're so safe, why haven't you told anyone?"
"Think what would happen if word of this got out. I'd be quarantined, Jemmy's project would be shut down, and life would suck all around." Maybe I could make him more sympathetic if I admitted being at fault. "I know I was impulsive. I know things could have gone wrong, and could still go wrong. But I'm taking every precaution I can think of, and I'm learning valuable lessons about the bots."
"Nothing's gone wrong?" He looked skeptical.
I certainly wasn't going to tell him about Rick. I also wasn't going to mention the running incident from two days ago.
I'd been running on campus, pushing myself to see how far I could go. When I got to the corner of Elm and Pine, the traffic light was against me. I stopped and bent over, putting my hands on my thighs as I breathed deeply.
I was in for a shock. Sprouting out of my shorts were two very muscular thighs. The rest of my legs were similarly muscled. My upper body was still normal, but I was sporting legs that wouldn't look out of place on Ms. Olympia. No wonder I'd been running so easily. My thigh muscles were long and lean. I had poked wonderingly at my legs.
Could I get back to my dorm room before anyone noticed I looked like someone from a kid's book where you mix and match people's tops and bottoms? At least I was able to run back there very fast. When I got there, Tara was in the bathroom. "Back already? I'll be done in a minute."
I had to work fast. I finally found the remote, put it against my massive legs, and pressed the appropriate button. My muscles slowly went away, returning my legs to their normal state.
"Going to watch TV?" Tara had said as she came out of the bathroom.
"Didn't want to rush you," I had said casually.
No, I wouldn't tell Derrick about that. "Nothing's gone wrong."
"So why tell me now?"
I debated letting him know what else the bots had done for me, but it looked like he wasn't ready to find out about me version 2.0, let alone to be asked to inject the bots into himself. "I needed to tell someone. And I knew I could trust you not to tell."
"Aw, Mel, c'mon, that's not fair."
Time to pour it on. "Please, Derrick. You can't tell anyone."
He didn't look happy about it, but he finally said, "Okay. But if something goes wrong, or if you start having problems, I'm going to have to tell people."
I showed him my big red binder, the one with FOR THE PARAMEDICS on it. "If there's an emergency, this folder has all the information in it, including how to destroy the bots. But I won't have a problem."
Wouldn't you know it, two days later I had a problem.
I'd been working like crazy all Wednesday and Thursday and most of Friday trying to finish schoolwork that I'd let slide. I must've overdone it because I crashed Friday night and didn't wake up until Saturday evening.
I'd been dreaming of Rick, and woke up in a puddle of sweat. I'd also woken up in my new body. My sleep shirt was old, and small even for the normal me. Now it was stretched across my chest, and one nipple peeked out of a rip in the fabric.
I sat up in alarm. Tara was gone, probably to the Phi Delt party. No problem. I'd zap myself back to normal, then go to the lab to see if I could figure out why I was changing when I wasn't commanding the change.
I took the remote from one of my dresser drawers, held it up to my arm, and pressed "Vol -".
Nothing happened.
I pushed it again. Same non-result.
Some rummaging in my desk produced a fresh pack of batteries. I replaced the batteries in the remote and tried again.
Still nothing.
Now I was really in trouble. Something had gone very wrong.
The only clothes I had to wear were the pants and purple top I'd bought for my date with Rick, so I pulled those on along with my black bra. Then I headed for the lab, remote in hand.
The route from my dorm to the lab took me right by the Phi Delt house. It was just past 8, and the party was in full swing. People were talking on the porch, and I could see plenty of people milling around through the open front door.
I'd been working hard for the last several days; would it hurt if I took some time to party? Okay, there was the problem with the bots, and I couldn't shrink back down, but nothing worse had happened. An hour or two of dancing would hurt me. If I didn't wear my glasses, chances are no one would recognize me.
I slipped past the crowd on the porch and headed inside. They had the music cranked up loud, perfect for mindless dancing. I found the table where they were serving drinks and grabbed a wine cooler.
As I moved into the main room where everyone was dancing, I pulled up short. Biff was on one side of the room, watching people dance.
I've not talked about Biff yet. He was a linebacker on BEU's football team, and was a big guy: six-two, and probably 250 pounds, much of it muscle. He didn't stack up to super-Rick, but who did?
I wondered if I could get him in the sack.
That was a bad thought. I was only here to dance. I needed to blow off some steam before I headed back to the lab.
Then why was I dancing my way across the floor to him?
There weren't any women hanging off of him, which I took to be a good sign. "Hey," I said, letting myself be pressed up against him by the crowd.
Biff's eyebrows rose. "Hey." His gaze wandered up and down my body, lingering on my cleavage. From his height he had a good view down my shirt. "I've never seen you before."
"I'm Liz." What the hell, it was reasonably close to my real name. "I'm visiting a friend, and she suggested we check out the party."
"I'm Biff."
I let myself be bumped into him again. "Sorry. Hey, you mind holding this for me while I dance for a second?" I shoved my wine cooler in his hands and danced out into the middle of the floor.
For the next several minutes I concentrated on working up a good sweat. What I lack in dancing skills I make up for in enthusiasm. It was a little weird dancing with my C-cup boobs. They tended to fly around a lot more than I was used to. But that was probably adding to the appeal of my dancing.
I danced through two songs, then made my way back to Biff. "Thanks," I said, taking back my wine cooler and gulping some of it down. "Dancing's hard work."
"Uh huh." He kept looking down my top at my sweat-slick boobs.
"Want to dance?"
Biff shook his head. "I'm not big on dancing."
I moved closer to him and looked up at him. "In that case, why don't we go somewhere we can talk?"
Biff was quiet for a second. I was afraid I'd come on too strong, too fast. Then, "My room's downstairs. The music doesn't come through too loudly."
"Grab us drinks, okay?" I said, finishing my wine cooler. Biff swung by the booze table and snagged a whole bottle of tequila.
The stairs to the basement led only to his room. It was a decent-sized room, certainly better than mine, and he didn't even have a roommate. There wasn't any furniture that wasn't covered in dirty clothes or playbook pages, so we sat side by side on his bed.
Biff swigged from the tequila bottle, then belatedly looked around for glasses. Finding none, he shrugged and wiped off the rim before passing it to me. Such a gentleman. "Who's your friend you're visiting?"
"You know Melissa Swensen?" Biff shook his head. "She's upstairs somewhere, probably. We went to high school together." I took a sip of the tequila and let it burn its way into my stomach.
"Are you in college?"
"Yeah." I took another swig of the tequila, then another. "Up north, at Stony Brook." Hopefully he wouldn't know anyone from Stony Brook. "You look like a football player."
"Just because I'm big?" He took the tequila back from me and sipped.
"No, the playbooks."
"Oh."
I reached for the tequila and took a long swallow. "What're you studying?"
"Besides football? Business administration."
Yeah, business administration. There was a tough major. "What's your position? Fullback?"
"Right. Hey! Go easy on that!" He took back the tequila bottle. It was only a quarter full. I was really thirsty, though, and the alcohol didn't seem to be doing anything to me.
"I'll be fine." I leaned up against him. "Got a girlfriend?"
Biff stared at me. "Not...not right now. Why? You want to move in?"
I shook my head. "I'm looking more for a good weekend. I'm headed back to Stony Brook tomorrow."
He let one of his hands wander to my boobs. "A good weekend?"
Screw the conversation. He wasn't all that good at it anyway. I stood up in front of him and kissed him.
Biff decided that that was good enough for him. He started groping me, squeezing my tits and ass, running his hands over my shoulders and legs. He wasn't all that gentle, but he'd do. I let him pull my purple top off, revealing my lacy black bra. In return, I started unbuttoning his shirt.
He stood up and removed his shoes, all the while continuing to kiss me and knead my boobs. C'mon, Biff, they're not made of dough! At least I was getting hornier by the minute. I dug my nails gently into the skin of his chest, then moved my hands down to his jeans. I unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down, leaving him in a stretched pair of boxers. "You're a big boy," I said huskily, draping one hand over the top of his boxer-clad erection.
When Biff had trouble with my bra I reached behind me and unhooked it, leaving him to take off my pants. We stood their, him in boxers, me in panties, while we kissed and rubbed and groped. His hands were hot on my exposed nipples.
The bed was big enough for both of us. I wriggled out of my panties, then pulled off his boxers. His dick sprang to attention, freed from its all-cotton confinement.
I let him be on top. He rested most of his weight on his elbows and started thrusting. He filled me up nicely, and I laid back and let him do all the work.
My climax came so quickly I even beat Biff, whose release was messy. Satiated, he rolled beside me, his dick slowly softening.
Was he asleep? He was! Gah, what a loser. I lay beside him and listened to his breath creak.
Wait, breath didn't creak. That was me! I watched as my feet scooted further down the bed. I was drawing out, gaining height but not much mass. My legs grew longer; I could mark my progress by Biff's sleeping form. When my growth stopped, I was a lanky 5'9".
I was also really horny, and Biff was the closest available prick, in more ways than one. I rolled on top of him and whispered in his ear, "Ready for round two."
He opened his eyes. "Uh, that wore me out a bit."
"Let me see what I can do." I planned on pulling the same trick on Biff I did on Rick. I took his deflated penis in my mouth and sucked hard on it.
"Ow!" said Biff. "You shocked me!"
Shocked him? "Sorry." I started gently stroking his dick instead. Pretty soon it was saluting and ready for duty, all nine inches of it.
"I'll go slow," I murmured. I leaned forward and pushed my breasts against his chest, kissing him fervently. "Give you time to catch up."
I slid down and licked his shaft some, then ran my tongue along the inside of his muscled thighs. I heard his breathing speed up. I raised up—easier to do with my longer legs—and lowered onto his rod. He didn't fill me up as much as before, but the fit was still very good.
As I began rocking up and down on him, he reached up and caressed my breasts. My nipples poked out, dusky red on my light brown breasts. I rocked harder, stretching my cunt and feeling the tugs on my clit.
Biff got more and more excited, eventually grabbing me and turning us so I was on bottom again. He licked all over my breasts while his penis plunged in and out, in and out. I clutched at the sheets, I wanted to come so bad.
Come I did, shuddering in ecstasy while Biff continued thrusting. I even had time to relax a little and then build back up before Biff came, sending me into another orgasm.
"Damn, Liz. That...that was fabulous," Biff gasped as he got off me and laid down beside me again. "Fabulous." His breathing deepened as he drifted to sleep again.
By all rights I should have been sated. I should have been so fucked out I wouldn't walk straight for days. Instead, I was getting hot to trot again. My cunt was extremely damp, and not just from his cum.
A prickly sensation ran through me. Again? Sure enough, I was stretching out again. How tall was I going to get?
Just about 6'2" was the answer to that one, just a touch shorter than Biff. I sat up and checked myself out. I looked like I'd been put on the rack, I was so thin.
I didn't stay that way for long. My shoulders and arms were the first to swell, muscles burgeoning as I watched. I went from stick arms to more normal ones to fitness-girl pumped in seconds. I flexed my arm in surprise, watching the bicep pop up a bit.
My legs followed suit, the large thigh muscles pushing out, calves gaining definition. I had a nicely defined six-pack. My shoulders broadened more...and then my boobs got in on the act. Pushed forward by my bigger pecs, they swelled further. I put my hand under their growing curves and felt them push down, gaining in weight. My areolae grew as well, my nipples sticking straight out. When I was done swelling I could still cup the bottom of my tits in my hands and my index fingers would just reach my nipples. They rode lower on my chest than my old C-cuppers, but didn't sag much at all.
I was a fitness buff's wet dream. Big tits, good muscles, a darker tan—the bots were doing a number on me. And there was still the matter of how horny I was.
"Oh, Biiiiiiff," I sang in his ear. "Time for round three."
He groaned as he woke up. "I'm too tired. And I don't know if I can get it up again."
Hm. There was that. I moved to his cock, brushing my erect nipples over his skin. When I took his penis in my mouth, I almost felt it buzzing. When I sucked on it, blood rushed into it, leaping into full bloom and forcing my jaws apart. "Looks like that won't be a problem."
He opened his eyes fully, then blinked. "Liz? You look different."
"Shh," I whispered. "You're about to get one fabulous fuck." Mainly because there was no way I'd convince him to go down on me, the idiot.
For a while I alternated between sucking his dick and rubbing it between my big boobs, which were a perfect size for this operation. The feel of his penis rubbing my cleavage was strangely erotic. I sucked some more, hard, and listened to him groan. It was his turn to clutch the bedsheets.
As I sucked, I stroked gently on my clit, working into a rhythm. I held back as long as I could, but the fires in me were rising. I soon couldn't stand it any more, and just about jumped on him.
I thought my self-ministrations were good, but the feel of his dick sliding inside me was fabulous. I rubbed my breasts, flicking my nipples with one fingernail, and pushing myself up and down with my muscled thighs. I screamed when we came together; I only hope the music upstairs masked the sound.
Biff's eyes had rolled up in his head. He was well and truly fucked. And I needed a drink.
I finished off the tequila, then headed for the bathroom for some water. I drank straight from the faucet. When I lifted my head, I felt myself go all prickly again. There was more?
More was the right word. I shot up, inches in seconds, and had to duck my head as it neared the ceiling. Muscles rippled and swelled under my deeply-tanned skin, an awesome display of growth. I thought of Rick and wondered if I'd get as muscled as him.
I didn't, but I was more muscled than I'd ever seen a woman be. Veins popped out along my biceps, and I watched in the mirror as my shoulders broadened and my abs cut more and more deeply. Striations of muscles ran along my thighs, growing as if each wanted to beat its neighbor. My legs were huge! Plate-like pectorals dwarfed my boobs.
They didn't stay dwarfed for long. Like my muscles before them, my tits had a growth spurt. I watched in amazement as they grew up, down, and out. They jutted four inches out from my chest, then five, then six, plumping out all the while. My breasts' bottom curve edged down, down, down, reaching my abs, then covering the first row of abdominal muscles. As they grew, they began to touch each other. Good thing my chest was so broad, or I'd never be able to support those monsters.
Checking myself out in the mirror, I realized I was a bronzed beast. I reached the ceiling, which put my height at around seven feet. My arms were huge, with gargantuan biceps and triceps and whatever-the-hell-else muscles were on them, topped off by several pulsing veins. I had huge wing-like muscles on my back, too—lats, I guess. My legs...well, huge was too small a word by half. Tree trunks, maybe. Slabs of muscle, at any rate, and each leg was larger than my head.
"Larger than my head" also described my pendulous boobs. I had the Hooters of Doom. Gravity pulled at them, but my skin was extra-resilient around them. Thanks to the weird qualities of my breast skin, they hung like watermelons with their long axis at less than 45 degrees. Bulbous watermelons, since they swelled in size as they extended from my chest, pressing against each other at the ends. Large areolae and nipples capped them off. When I hefted them, their weight surprised me. They were still malleable, thank God. If I smooshed them in my cleavage hit me in the nose. I gently lowered them, leaving my abs half-covered. My boobs looked big enough on my new frame, and I was seven feet tall. To someone not seven feet tall they had to be frightening zeppelins.
The more I looked at myself, the hornier I got. I'd had, what, four orgasms in the last hour? and I wanted more. I eased shut the bathroom door and reached my hand into my slit.
Holy fuck, I was sensitive. I toyed with my nipples and breasts as I stroked my hot button. The nipples jutted out, and I kept tweaking them as I stroked. The room spun around me and I fell to my knees with a crash as I climaxed, trying hard not to shriek.
I staggered back to my feet. My chest was flush under my deep tan, and I could have blinded someone with my pointy nipples.
I had to have a dick in me.
My footfalls were heavy as I went into Biff's room. How much did I weigh? I stared at the recumbent figure on the bed. I didn't think that bed could bear both of our weight, and the floor looked too hard for my tastes.
I flung the covers off of Biff and stared at his limp penis. It seemed so small now. I bent down and began sucking on it. Maybe if I sucked hard enough it'd be a bit bigger.
When my lips touched his dick, it tumesced nearly instantly. Then I sucked on it, willing it bigger. It throbbed as blood rushed into it...and then it swelled more. Had I given him some bots as well? He was sporting a foot worth of boner, and it was still throbbing under my hands and lips. When it hit fifteen inches, I pulled back. He was bigger than Rick had been.
Biff smiled, oblivious to what was going on. That was fine by me.
Okay, so his bed wasn't going to hold us, and I didn't want to be on the floor. What did that leave?
I had an idea. I could stand up, cross my ankles, and do scissors moves. Biff could rest in the diamond formed by my ankles, knees, and cunt. I could hold him up, assuming I was strong enough, and lower myself on his dick.
There was only one way to find out if this would work. I pulled Biff off the bed. Yeah, I wasn't going to have any trouble with him. I crossed my ankles, flexed my knees, got his body positioned, and did a deep-knee bend, ramming his penis into me.
Oh damn, oh damn, it was fabulous. His huge dick filled me up. At the first stroke, Biff's eyes flew open. "Fuck, what's going on?" he said.
"Shut up and hang on," I growled. "I've got you."
"Liz?!?" By this time I was moving up and down like a jackhammer, my hands behind Biff's back to keep him in position. "What happened—oh, oooh, oh, God—you look—ah God, mmm—" He gave up trying to talk. He did bring his hands up and caress the underside and front of my boobs. My nipples stiffened and my pleasure redoubled.
"Aaaaah!" I shrieked as I came. I had to work hard not to drop Biff or crush him in my legs. I shook and shook in the gale-force winds of my orgasm.
Biff still hadn't come, so I kept pumping. I'd gained another inch of boobs. They now hit Biff every time I lowered myself all the way down. My legs were also even more muscled, as unbelievable as I found that to be.
The second orgasm was better than the first. Biff was grunting with every stroke of my body, balancing on the thin edge of pleasure and pain. My legs were starting to get tired from all the scissoring up and down, but I had to see what his orgasm was like.
It was like sitting on a hose. The head of his prick swelled, and then he was pumping inside of me, cum dripping out of me and around us both. The feel of it sent me into ecstasy, an orgasm that went on and on. Biff was making a keening noise as he came.
I had the presence of mind to lower him gently to the floor before curling up on the floor beside him, still in the throes of an orgasm. All of my muscles clenched and relaxed. I tried rolling over on my stomach, but my tits were in my way. Instead I curled up in a fetal position, hugging my boobs and shuddering.
My orgasm finally waned. I sat up slowly, my head spinning. The rug on the floor was all bunched up, and Biff was out cold, draped with his own cum.
When I stood up, I realized that I had shrunk some. I was closer to Biff's height than the seven feet I'd been just moments ago. I had to tug and tug to get Biff back into his bed.
A shower was definitely called for. Tired as I was, I forced myself into the stall and under the spray of hot water. I soaped myself, marvelling at my still-muscular body and giant breasts.
Post-shower, I went to check on Biff. He was still out cold, his outsized schlong draped across one thigh. I found the remote in my purse, held it to his member, and pushed the button to undo any changes and flush any bots. His dick dwindled down, thank God. I tried the remote on myself, just in case, but it still didn't do squat to me.
The question of clothes still remained. No way I would fit in what I wore here. I'd have to steal some of Biff's.
One of his t-shirts barely went over my boobs, smushing them towards me. An abundance of cleavage welled up at the shirt's stretched-out neck, and you could see the very bottom of my breasts under the bottom edge. There was no mistaking my nips, either. At least my tits didn't wobble so much.
I kept the shirt and found a sweatshirt. It was a little better. The sleeves ended at my forearms, and the bottom of the sweatshirt at least reached my abs, though there was still a significant gap between the bottom of the sweatshirt and my skin. The nearly-matching sweatpants hugged my thighs and ended mid-calf.
Sure, it looked like I was smuggling pillows under my clothes, but it was as good as I could do, given the circumstances. I grabbed the clothes I had worn and headed up the stairs.
The people loitering near the basement exit gave me pop-eyed stares as I rushed past them. "'Scuse me," I muttered, making my way through the crowd, leaving amazed people in my wake. I carried a bubble of silence with me: everyone who saw me stopped talking. "Didn't your mom tell you not to stare?" I growled at one guy, who dropped his drink and backed away.
Then I was out the door. I flew down the sidewalk, ignoring the ripping sound from the sweatpants. I dodged between buildings, took poorly-lighted paths, and made my circuitous way to bio sci.
This late on a Saturday, no one was around, thankfully. I locked the lab door behind me.
Okay, the clothes were going to have to go. I could barely breathe in the shirt. The sweatpants were a loss. Large tears in them showed my thigh muscles. I finished ripping the legs, then peeled the remnants off of me. The sweatshirt was okay, but the t-shirt was so tight, I ended up tearing it to get it off. Freed of their confinement, my breasts swayed gently as I moved.
It was moment-of-truth time. Would the microwave signal generator have enough power to make the bots listen? I programmed the signal generator to send an "emergency revert" code. The blood pressure cuff wouldn't go around my arm unless I completely relaxed it, and I kept accidentally moving my arm and causing the cuff's velcro to give way. I slid it to my forearm and hoped for the best.
When I hit the sig gen's trigger, I deflated. My towering height became a fond memory. My boobs shrank back into me. As my muscles went away, the BP cuff slid off my arm and over my tiny hands.
I was so small! I'd never really thought about it before. But I was back to normal. Unfortunately, I still didn't know why the bots had gone crazy in me, or—more importantly—how to stop them short of getting rid of them.