The Big NightBy Hi-StandardI first met Rachel after I had landed my first contract as a network engineer.
I'd finished seven years with Computer Joe's Networking in my home town of TerraHaute and was ready to hit the big time—or, at least land a position with amajor company that needed a fully certified NT Engineer. The Webb Organizationin Chicago was happy to have me—they had just leased office space in a buildingnear Oak Park that needed networking. I fitted the bill—I had experience ineverything from laying Grade 5 STP to debugging SQL 6.5. I stuffed my gear intoa rented U-Haul and ricocheted up U.S. 57 in my Volkswagen to Chicago.
Chicago was everything I expected—big, noisy, new. I flung myself into the jobimmediately. My VW was kept busy as I drove from the small apartment I hadrented near Cicero to the Webb offices in Palatine. It was the beginnings of thebig time for me—I was a small fish in a big pond, and I was happy as hell. Iwanted to make a good first impression, and to that end I worked twelve-hourdays for the first seven days on the job. Webb's senior net engineer Sal, around, jovial guy with a goatee and a gold nose ring, watched me withill-concealed amusement for the first two days; then, apparently content that Iknew what I was doing, he left me to my own devices.
The invitation to the office break-in party was a bit of a surprise to me.
"A 'break-in party'?" I asked Sal. He grinned toothily at me.
"Yep," he replied. "It's a tradition with the old corporate heads. They throw aparty for the new office staff to help them get to know one another beforethrowing them together at work."Okay by me. I promptly arrived at the new building. It was perhaps a twenty-yearold structure, with a deli and restaurant on the ground floor, offices in themiddle floors, and a residence at the top. The party was held in the lobby areaoff the elevator, where a new-looking kiosk that bore a placard with the Webbcompany logo on it had been installed. I was surprised by the number ofpartygoers. At least fifty people were there. After playing name tag for a halfhour I found myself in small talk with Phil, Webb's training director.
It was then I saw her. Rachel was standing by herself near the buffet table, herattitude and expression pensive and perhaps a little bored. At first glance shewas plain looking—hornrimmed eyeglasses, an unrevealing blue-print frock, palepanty hose and color-coordinated sensible shoes. As I looked more closely at herI thought she could be much more attractive—her nut-colored shoulder-length hairwas lustrous in the office lighting, her unadorned face attractive. Her eyeswere a clear, deep, very attractive blue.
"Don't bother, Brian," Phil Said to me suddenly. I was startled by hisrejoinder.
"Why?" I asked. Phil put his finger alongside his nose in a knowing gesture. Hewas the office know-it-all, that repository of useless trivia you find inoffices everywhere.
"For one, she's the building owner here—she lives in a residence above theoffice levels—so her interest in lowly, working-class stiffs like you and me isnil. Two, she can chill beer instantly by holding it in her hand. Trust me,she's not worth the effort.""How hard did you try?" I countered. Phil gave me a knowledgeable smirk.
"Hard enough."After a few moments I managed to detach myself from Phil and wandered towardsthe buffet table. Rachel was still standing there, exchanging small talk with agroup from Webb's real estate department. I pretended uncertainty over my choiceof hors d'oeuvres so I could look at her better. My favorable impression of hergrew. She was average in height and apparently quite well built—the frock shewore was largely responsible for her apparent shapelessness. Her voice waspleasant and she smiled frequently. I was quite taken with her, and I decided tointroduce myself.
As I offered my hand I saw her smile diminish a little. Her handshake wasperfunctory, her attitude professional. I was a little put off by her reactionto me. While I will never find myself voted into the Paul Newman Come-HitherSociety, I did not think myself unattractive—my worst features were my paleindoor complexion and the twenty extra pounds that tenaciously clung to mysix-one frame even in the face of vigorous daily walks. Our conversation ranalong professional topics. Such subjects generally run shallow rather quickly,and I wanted to keep talking to her—her eyes were even more beautiful up closethan at a distance. I cocked my ear at the muzak burbling through the speakersoverhead and grinned.
"Too bad the people who make elevator music aren't jazz fans," I remarked. "Iwould enjoy that stuff more."Rachel's smile broadened a little and she chuckled.
"You're a jazz fan? What kind?" she asked.
"I like Dixieland style," I replied. "I've always had a passion for groups likeSweet Emma or the Preservation Hall Jazz Band. I think the more traditionalbands have it all over modern ones like Brubeck's."Her eyes widened.
"Sweet Emma? Which albums do you have?""All of them, I hope," I replied. Rachel's eyes got even bigger and her smilebecame dazzling.
"I love Dixieland jazz!" she exclaimed. "However did you find any albums bySweet Emma? I've tried—they never seem to be anywhere."Our conversation turned to jazz, and blues, and Big Band music—Rachel had atleast as great a passion for the music of the thirties and forties as I. I soonlearned she was twenty seven, unmarried and lived alone. Her mom was a formeranthropology professor and the current multi-millionaire owner of adietary-supplement company. She had twelve siblings, all sisters, all youngerthan her. I whistled appreciatively and told her about myself—only child, twentyeight, computer geek, Mom and Pop living in Terra Haute, single. With horsd'oeuvres in hand we occupied the couch in the lobby area, talking until Inoticed that the party was largely broken up and gone. Phil was still there, hisexpression unreadable. I decided to ignore him.
"I had a very nice time tonight, Rachel," I said, rising to me feet. She stoodup with me, nodding, her formally neutral expression happy. I reached out andtook up her hand. To my surprise she pulled it out of my grasp immediately andher neutral expression returned. She smiled formally in apparent apology to me,said good-night, and left. I was a bit stunned by her reaction. We have beenconversing so pleasantly that I couldn't imagine how touching her hand couldhave offended her. Phil joined me as I left the building, rubbing his finger onhis nose again.
"See what I mean, Brian?" he said. "I think she's a dyke, myself."I didn't, but I didn't know what went wrong, either.
I went to work the next day with Rachel on my mind. I kept thinking about howattractive she was—and her reaction to my touching her hand. I worked hard thatweek and surprised Sal with an installation plan three days ahead of schedule.
The Webb board went over my numbers with a fine-toothed comb, approved the plan,and sent me back to the Oak Park office to begin a detailed site inspection.
I was glad to go. I wanted to see Rachel again. Fortunately I had a good reasonto see her more than once: as the building's owner all the wiring I plannedneeded her approval. The telephone was the first medium of our re-acquaintance.
Her voice was wonderful—sultry, even throaty at times. We had a lot of technicalstuff to talk about, as the Webb Organization had leased space on threedifferent floors—it was going to be a long-term job getting the place wired,configured and ready for the users. Then, while asking for her approval on achange in the wiring scheme Rachel asked me for help with her own PC. I almostsaid "hell, yes!" on the phone.
"Okay, then," she replied. "I'll let you up."As I stepped out of the elevator I was more surprised. Her apartment was huge,spanning the building. The individual rooms were as big as my entire apartmentand the ceilings were at least twenty feet high, and in her living andrecreation areas, almost thirty—her apartment took up nearly three floors' worthof building. Rachel was dressed much the same as before—eyeglasses, sweats,sneakers, no makeup. The sweats did a better job of reminding me of howattractive she was. As she led me through her living room towards her desk andher PC it occurred to me how sparse her furnishings were. Everything lookedsimple, if tasteful—couch, chairs, a low coffee table, entertainment centerbuilt into the wall, a broad formal dining table in the dining area,carpeting—but there wasn't a lot of it. For someone with money Rachel's lack ofostentatious objects d'art or extra furnishings were surprising. The biggestthing there was a skylight—thirty feet across at least and, to judge from thetracks on either side, retractable. I found myself liking this woman more andmore. Rachel pointed me to her PC.
"My modem somehow got lost," she said by way of explanation. I nodded. The PCwas on, so I had most of the info I needed already—Windows 95, Pentiumprocessor, the usual peripherals. I first looked around the PC's case. Myimmediate smile puzzled her.
"Did you move your desk last night?" I asked. Now it was my turn to bepuzzled—Rachel started visibly at my question and her eyes widened. She nodded.
"How did you know?" she asked. I pointed to the outlet her PC was plugged into.
None of the plugs were pushed fully into the wall.
"I think I can fix this quick," I said. I shut down her PC, did mysleight-of-hand routine with my screwdriver, and quickly opened its case. Sureenough, the modem card had partially slipped from its slot. She must have triedmoving her desk without checking the length of the telephone line leading to it.
I seated it again, tugged experimentally at the telephone jack inserted into it,then reassembled the case. With the PC on I instructed her to try a dial-upconnection. The characteristic squeal from the PC case told me the repair was asuccess. Rachel sighed in relief and gave me an honest smile that made me melt.
Then her face clouded over again. I couldn't keep the disappointment from my ownexpression, and she saw it. I excused myself and went back to work.
I soon had my own office at Oak Park. I talked to Rachel almost every day, oftenon pretenses I made up. As time went by she became more friendly and lessreserved towards me. The day she accepted my invitation to a bagel and coffee inthe deli downstairs. It was the high point of my day. We began to meet eachmorning, spending breakfast talking about the peculiarities of our families andfriends. She surprised me one day by touching my hand as we sat at ouraccustomed booth one morning—her touch sent a spark up my arm to my spine. Theonly problem was that she was treating me like an older brother, while mythoughts about her definitely went another way.
Then came the Big Night.
By dint of a liberal amount of cash I had managed to get two tickets to a localdinner theater which was hosting the Paragon Jazz Quartet for a one-night-onlyshow that sold out almost six months previously. With the precious tickets in myhand I called Rachel and asked if she would like to go to the theater with me.
Her reaction was dead silence for almost a minute. I groaned inwardly. Rachelonly liked me on the telephone, I thought. I was like a big brother to her, Ithought. The world was really starting to suck. I fumbled for the tickets andwas about to tear them apart in frustration when Rachel spoke.
"Brian, that's wonderful," she said. "I'd like very much to see them with you."Yes! The day of the concert came. I floated around the office on a cloud. Eachtime I saw my watch or clock on the wall I would stop and will time to gofaster. After what seemed an infinity the day came to a close. I waited besidethe elevator expectantly. Right on time Rachel arrived downstairs from herapartment. If she surprised me before, she shocked me now. Gone were the sweatsand frocks. She was wearing a white button-front sleeveless top and dark slacksthat hugged her hips. Every suspicion I'd had about her physical appearance wasconfirmed, and then some—she was actually quite stacked. Her hair was neatlycoiffed, and her eyeglasses were gone. I had to restrain myself from grabbing ather hand right away—I could still see a sense of reserve in her eyes. Icomplimented her on her appearance and we went out into the warm summer night.
The show was perfect. Dinner was adequate, the Paragon Quartet brilliant. Icouldn't help but feel Rachel's warmth as I sat with my arm next to hers. Rachelhad looked at the drink menu and ordered a frozen drink called a Bahama Mama. Asthe son of a bartender I'd seen just about any combination of liquors mixed withpineapple or banana called by that name, and Rachel obligingly offered me ataste of hers. The bartender must've been trained on Mars—not only was there rumin the drink but I thought I caught the taste of Southern Comfort in it as well.
I desperately didn't want to spoil the night so I said nothing, even afterRachel had ordered and consumed two more drinks. We sat and talked or listenedas the Quartet played, occasionally swaying or tapping our fingers to the sweetmusic. My only disappointment was that the concert and the evening ended toosoon.
As I escorted Rachel home I knew she was feeling her liquor. I'd drunk a fairbit too—I figured I was probably half in the bag myself—but she actually swayeda couple of times as we walked back into her building. I was a little concerned,and I offered to see her to her door. Rachel smiled and nodded in happyacceptance.
I stepped out of the elevator into her apartment. I offered my hand to Rachel.
She took it up and smiled again.
"Brian, this was the best night I've had in a long, long time," she said. Ithought I could hear her slur her words slightly, but by that time I wasn'tsure—that damned bartender must've put Southern Comfort in every damned drink hemade that night. I smiled back to her.
"I'm very glad you liked it, Rachel," I replied. I hesitated for a moment.
"You're a very nice date. Thank you for the wonderful time."Rachel smiled even more. I felt my caution slip away and I stepped closer toher. She looked up into my face. I bent down and kissed her gently on the lips.
For a moment Rachel stiffened and began to pull away from me. Then, I feltRachel relax just as quickly as she had stiffened. Warmth rushed through me. Islipped my hands around her waist. Her lips were everything I imagined them tobe and more—soft, moist, delicious. A little voice in the back of my skull waswarning me that it was probably the first and last time I would be able to kissRachel, and that I'd better nerve myself to apologize when it was over.
Then it happened.
Rachel began to murmur. Her lips moving against mine sent a surge of excitementthrough me. It almost sounded like she was purring as I kissed her. I felt herarms slip across my shoulders. The feeling of her warm, soft hands around myneck was entrancing. Rachel began to kiss my cheek, my chin, along the line ofmy jaw. I heard her breathing become faster and my own breathing increased insympathy. I tried to kiss every part of her face, her nose, her ears. I drank inthe smell of her skin, her hair, her enticing perfume. Her hands began to rub myneck. She almost mewed as I kissed her on the lips again.
I couldn't believe it. It was like a dream come true. It was if all Rachel'sreserve and indifference had been made to vanish by the snap of the fingers.
Rachel was nibbling at my lips, purring in pleasure at each kiss. I closed myeyes and savored the moment. I drew her in to me.
"Mmmm, yes," she breathed as her breasts pressed against me. My excitement roseas I felt her plush softness against my chest. I slipped my hands up her backand squeezed her tightly against me. God, she was so soft, yet firm. I squeezedher tighter yet, until I felt her flesh touch my arms.
"Oh, yes. Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes," Rachel said. With every word her lips movedagainst mine. I felt my manhood surge in my pants in reaction. Her hands grippedaround my neck more tightly, keeping her bosom crushed against my chest. I movedmy hands back down her slim, tight waist to her hips. As my hands contacted theswell of her hips I could not resist. I let my hands continue to travel down,across her firm, pliant butt. Rachel's loud, throaty reaction made me even moreexcited. She began to grind her hips against mine, rubbing her front against myerection—I suddenly felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over me. She wasgrinding her hips against mine. Our hips were at the same height? I opened myeyes. Rachel, her eyes half closed, her mouth open, was licking my face, herthroaty voice seductive. Our eyes were level. As I tilted my head I could seeher sleeveless top was pressing into her skin, outlining her bra. Gaps werevisible around the buttons running down her front. I could see her flesh bulgingaround her bra cups, making bumps against the cotton cloth. Her pants too werelike a second skin, telegraphing every flex of her hips and butt. Rachel keptcaressing my face and neck, her lips nuzzling mine. Her eyes her half-closed andglazed, her expression sultry and euphoric. Her throaty moans were becomingsteadily louder and louder. She pressed our lips together with a strength Iwould never have given her credit for.
"No, don't stop, Brian," she breathed. "Please make love to me. Please. Pleasedon't stop."Rachel put me in a lip-lock like I'd never experienced. I put my hands on herhips to steady myself. Her hips were now above mine. Under the grasp of herhands I found my head steadily tilting higher until I was craning my neck. Herbreasts were pushing against me more and more, spreading across my front.
Rachel was growing, bigger and bigger, right in front of me! I felt somethinggive under my hands. There was a loud, staccato sound as her slacks shreddedaround her hips. Another noise heralded the sound of her bra coming undone.
Rachel gave off a sensual bark as each piece of her clothing became disarranged.
Her top began to separate at the shoulders. There was a chain of noise. I feltseveral stings on my skin and something hit me in the eye. It was the buttons ofher top, surrendering to her growth, shooting away from her like bullets. Rachelwrapped her arms around me, pressing me closely into her flesh. I felt her hipsswelling, widening, rising under my hands. More tearing, rending noises followedas her panties and pantlegs gave up the fight to clothe her. Her butt blossomedoutward. In a few seconds I couldn't get my hands to meet around her buttocks.
Her hips pressed my forearms apart.
As Rachel got bigger I felt myself slipping down her front. Her lips rosesteadily from my mouth to my nose, then my forehead, and finally the top of myhead. I could feel her hands sliding across my back as her arms lengthened. Ilooked up at her face. It was Rachel's—her lustrous brown hair wrapped aroundher chin, her clear blue eyes looking down at me, her expression desirous. Andit was rising steadily higher and higher above me.
"Make love to me, Brian," she cooed. Her voice was throaty and penetrating.
"Make love to me."A gamut of emotions robbed me of speech and thought. Rachel had to be seven feettall and was still getting bigger. I watched her shoulders broadening, her necklengthening. Her eyes, those beautiful hypnotic eyes, kept getting larger andlarger. I think I went through every possible emotion I'd ever experienced, plusa few added in for good measure—fear, longing, desire, surprise, and sheerterror—simultaneously. Rachel bent herself almost double and planted her lipsagainst mine again. She kissed me so hard I thought my front teeth would bend.
Then her hands loosed their hold against my back just long enough to grasp theshoulders of my jacket. She yanked, and it tore apart in her hands. She rippedit from my arms and back. My shirt quickly followed. With my chest bare Rachelagain pressed me against her. Now her breasts were at my head level and I foundmyself lost in their softness. I could feel them growing around my head,spilling down onto my shoulders. All I could see was her round, plush flesh. Itwas almost smothering—yet, incredibly, incredibly erotic. The taste and smell ofher skin. The salty sweetness of the perspiration. It was like an aphrodisiac,and to my utter amazement my erection surged. But I had to breathe. I reached upwith my hands to try to grip her arms. I felt my hands brush a nubbin of skin oneither side of my shoulders. Rachel suddenly gasped and squeezed me all theharder, pressing my head deeper into her engorging cleavage. I started waving myhands more quickly, brushing against her. I heard her gasp and moan with eachtouch, louder and louder. It abruptly occurred to me that I must be touching hernipples. I waved my hands until I felt those nubbins of flesh again. Rachel gaveoff the most sexual moan I'd ever imagined as I rubbed my palm across the roughtexture of the plum-sized object. To confirm my suspicion I felt her nipple growwarm and it expanded inside my hand until it felt like it was the size of abaseball.
Suddenly my feet left the floor. Rachel was still growing. I could feel herhands steadily expanding across my back as she pressed me against her. Herbreasts were two immense pillows completely surrounding my head. I could hearher heart pulsing loudly in her breast-flesh. She was moaning and purring likeshe was in the throes of ecstasy. Then, she giggled. The pressure of her handsagainst my back lessened, and I slipped down her front to the floor. With myhead free I was able to blink and clear my eyes. Then I looked up.
I was overwhelmed by a sense of awe. Rachel towered high over me. She bent atthe middle so she could see me over her massive breasts.
"I love you, Brian," she whispered. "I want you to make love to me. I want youinside me."Sheer terror won the emotion steeplechase. I began to writhe in her hands.
"Wait a minute! Wait a minute!" I cried. Rachel only smiled—and grew some more.
Now she was easily twelve feet tall. She took my head in her huge hands andturned me to face her front. Her womanhood was right at my head level. Rachelgiggled again. She pressed me into her vulva. I knew I had to do something, butrational thought had taken a sudden leave of absence and left no notice ofreturn. She pressed me harder into her hips. My nose slipped inside her. I triedto jerk away. In doing so I stroked her in the just the right place instead.
Rachel screamed in sheer carnal joy. All I could smell was her womanhood, herreadiness. Despite the utter panic that was making me struggle to get free Icould feel my erection return. Rachel was almost howling with delight as mycontortions continued to stimulate her. Suddenly I was below her vulva, myflaccid arms being pushed apart by her expanding, lengthening legs.
"OH, THAT'S GOOD," Rachel cried. "OH, THAT FELT SO GOOD. MORE, PLEASE, BRIAN.
MORE, MORE, MORE! I WANT YOU INSIDE ME ALL THE WAY!"Rachel began to slip her great, strong, warm hands down my back. I knew she washeading for my pants. Instinct yelled out some real short instructions inside myhead. I ducked under her legs. I was half-naked. Rachel's juices had dribbleddown my chest and belly. But I was free.
"PLEASE NO, BRIAN," she thundered. I spared one look over my shoulder. Rachel'shead was now pressing against the ceiling. She stooped and turned on her heel—Iwas amused later that my engineer's mind took notice at that moment of theshredded condition of her shoes—and reached out for me. My twenty extra poundswere forgotten as I dropped to my hands and knees to dodge her outstretchedhands. I ran like the wind, not knowing where I was going. Everything went by ina blur as I felt the solid jarring that could only have been the floor's protestto Rachel's pursuing me. Instinct took over again and I flung myself headfirstunder what I later discovered was her dining table. My contact with the floorstunned me and made my chest smart like hell. Adding insult to injury,adrenaline made me jump up too fast. I discovered just how solid the table wasby cracking my head against it. I heard myself yelp in pain. Stars danced infront of my eyes. Instinct was yelling instructions again and I started togather myself back together when an almighty thump shook me off my forearms andtwo huge hands grabbed my legs.
I seized the legs of the table and used all the strength I had to try to pull mylimbs out of Rachel's grasp. What I lost instead was my pants. My boxers onlysurrendered halfway, adding to my problem. As I tried to pony-walk from underthe table Rachel seized me fully and drew me up into the air.
And up, and up. My God, she had to be fifty feet tall or more! Rachel was fartoo big to stand. She slipped onto her buttocks as she drew me closer to her.
Her smile was purely carnal and she gave off an exclamation of satisfaction asshe cradled me in her huge, huge hands. She slipped one finger down my chest andbelly, pausing to caress my erection. Her touch sent a shockwave racing from myshaft through my spine, making me shiver. Her finger slipped down further. Herfingernail hooked my boxers and she flicked them away.
"GIVE ME WHAT I NEED, BRIAN," she said. 'MAKE LOVE TO ME. GIVE ME WHAT I NEED. IWANT YOU INSIDE ME, BRIAN. I WANT YOU TO MAKE LOVE TO ME."With that she braced herself up against the nearest wall and spread her legs.
She straightened me in her hands. I was being aimed like an arrow into the slotof her womanhood. I tried to wriggle out of her grasp but it was no use. Feetfirst, she began to slip me inside her.
"OMIGOD, I'M GOING IN!" I cried. Her womanhood was incredibly hot and strong.
Rachel uttered a moan of pure satisfaction. The smell of her readiness was headyand overpowering. She pressed me in, deeper and deeper. In a few seconds I wasburied up to my shoulders inside her. I could feel her muscles throbbing andpressing against me. I tried to press back against the contractions that weresqueezing my chest, my belly, my legs. Every motion I made provoked anotherreaction. Her flesh began to swell around my shoulders, squashing against myneck until it reached my chin. The heat inside her was tremendous, the poundingof her pulse staggering. Looking up, I saw her tremendous hand was just aboveme. I reached up and grabbed one of her fingers, then tried to pull myself upand out of her. Rachel almost screamed in delight and I was suddenly awash inher juices. She pressed me back down inside her. Again and again I tried to getout. Again and again Rachel would cry out in lustful joy and press me back in.
Soon I was half-drowned from her juices and too tired and sore to move. I wasslipping towards the precipice of complete lunacy when I passed out.
I woke up stretched out on a warm, rumpled mattress that smelled very familiar.
I tried to move. It was a bad idea. Every part of me ached. I wondered brieflyif any aspirin was available and whether I should go and get some. I groaned atthe idea and decided the soft-if-lumpy surface I was resting on would do justfine until I figured exactly what had just happened to me.
"I'm sorry, Brian," Rachel said. Her voice was sad and fearful—and it soundedlike it was high over my head. "I'm so sorry. Are you all right?"My eyes snapped open. I was lying on the open palm of an impossibly gigantichand. Instinct yelled, screw the aches and pains. I did my best imitation ofSuperman's up, up and away. The floor was five feet down and I made it in oneleap and continued to frog-jump. A wall got in my way but I couldn't stop. Iturned just in time to let my shoulder take the impact. The wall helped me turnthe rest of the way to face into the living area of Rachel's apartment.
Rachel was crouching against the wall. All sixty feet or so of her. Her handstill lay open beside her feet, which she had drawn together. Her hair was indisarray, her eyes moist. She reached out to me in a gesture of concern afterI'd done my billy goat routine with a hand that was as big as I was tall. As itcame near me I heard somebody yammering incoherently. I realized it was myself.
At my hysterical reaction Rachel drew back. She pulled up her knees until theypressed against her breasts and wrapped her arms around her legs. I managed toquiet my heart sufficiently to ease the sensation of it trying to escape mychest via my throat when Rachel put her head down on her knees and began to cry.
"I'm so sorry, Brian," she said quietly through her tears. "I'm so sorry. Ididn't mean to hurt you or frighten you.""What-? How-? How could you-?" I babbled. Rachel raised her head. Tears werestreaming down her eyes. She offered me a sad smile.
"It's not a long story, but a pretty strange one," she replied. "I'm livingunder a curse.""A curse?" I was dumfounded. She nodded.
"It began when Mother was a graduate student, back in 1968," she began. "She wasa confirmed bachelorette. Being a feminist she detested the idea of marrying aman and being chained to a family, so she kept working on herspecialty—primitive peoples in the Pacific rim. During the course of her studiesshe heard about a previously unknown tribe in Indonesia which was ruled byfemales—something almost unheard of in Asian and pan-Asian cultures. The ideafascinated her, and she decided to do a study on them. She got a grant and wentlooking for them. She spent almost a year looking and had almost lost hope whenshe found them. Or, rather, they found her.""Mom was in the mountains in northern Malaysia, driving up a mountain road,heading back to her camp with supplies. It was getting dark and she starteddriving faster. Suddenly a girl appeared in front of her. She tried to stop butthe jeep went out of control. Mom got thrown out of the jeep, breaking her leg.
She was just beginning to realize how badly she was hurt when she surrounded bya group of tribeswomen."Rachel looked away from me, out towards the dark windows. God, she was so big.
Her legs looked like they went on forever. Even in a crouch her hair brushed theceiling. Her expression was profoundly sad, so sad I felt like comforting her.
"The tribeswomen grabbed her. She passed out from the pain. She later woke upwhen someone splashed water in her face. It was hard for her to see them in thelight of their torches but as she looked around she realized she'd found thetribe she was looking for. All of the people around her were females. There weresome males, but they stayed away. The females were clearly in charge.""The Queen of the tribe came and spoke to her. Mom couldn't understand thewords, but when the Queen suddenly pointed to a body lying next to her sherealized the girl she'd hit was one of the tribe. It was a young girl, twelveyears old. The Queen shouted at Mom, then stopped, as if expecting a reply. Momknew Tagalog and some pidgin but their language was neither. Mom tried usingGari, a local dialect. She tried to say she was sorry, but it came outwrong—instead she insulted both the Queen and the dead girl. The Queen summoneda witch, who began to chant and gesture at Mom. A small pot of water was put onthe fire, and the old woman dropped leaves and roots into it. After while theQueen stopped the witch and spoke to Mom. Mom remembers every word the old Queensaid to this day—she was even able to get it translated properly later. Thewitch made one last gesture, then poured the contents of the pot into a hollowedgourd. Other women grabbed Mom. The witch pulled open her mouth, stuck the openneck of the gourd between her lips, then forced her to drink the potion she'dmade. It was hot and it made her ill, but they wouldn't let her vomit.
Eventually she passed out.""She woke the next day. She was in the same spot as the previous night, but thetribe had just disappeared. Her leg had somehow mended overnight and she couldwalk. Mom had no idea what they forced her to drink, but she thought at first itwas some kind of poison. She remembered what some of the things the witch usedlooked like. She spent the next few days gathering anything that looked like thestuff that made up the potion, then returned to civilization to get the stufftested.""Right after Mom got back she found her whole attitude changed. Suddenly shecouldn't wait to get married and have kids. She met Dad and got pregnant almostimmediately. It was part of the curse—Mom was incredibly fertile. D'you knowthere's only a ten-year difference between my age and my youngest sister's?Every ten months Mom had another baby, and couldn't wait to have more, until alltwelve of my sisters and I were born. When my youngest sister Cindy was born,Mom suddenly went into menopause—she went from very fertile to infertileovernight. That was the first part. Then, when I was fourteen, I discovered thesecond part. I was really attracted to this boy. One night he touched me. Itfelt so good I encouraged him to do more. Suddenly my clothes didn't fit meanymore, but I didn't care. I just wanted him to make me feel good. I grew thatnight like I grew with you, though not so much—the boy managed to get away fromme and ran screaming out of the house.""That was when Mom told us about the curse the old Queen had put on her. Thetwelve-year old girl was the Queen's daughter and the only surviving member ofher family. There were no other royal members in the tribe. The Queen couldn'tremarry—and Mom had just killed her only child, the only way her royal linecould have continued. To make it worse, Mom's attempts to communicate with herended up insulting her daughter, calling her 'scrawny' and suggesting she wouldnever have children. The Queen's daughter only lived twelve years, so the Queencursed Mom to have twelve daughters and no other children. Without her daughterto continue their royal line the Queen was the last of her kind, so she cursedmy sisters and I to love and want men, but never to be able to have one—thatway, our family line would not continue. Since Mom said her daughter was small,we would become the opposite—but only when we want sex. So each time any of mysisters or I become aroused, we suddenly grow bigger. The more we're aroused,the bigger we grow. The bigger we grow, the more aroused we become. No normalman will ever be able to fertilize any of us so none of us will ever havechildren. To top it all off, since her daughter died in her arms the Queencursed Mom to live until she saw all of us die. That's the curse.""Mom had given up being an anthropologist right after returning from Indonesia.
She had every sample of leaves and roots and insects that she had gatheredaround the site where the witch had drawn her ingredients for the potion. Thelabs made some pretty amazing discoveries—natural serums that could help buildmuscles, a very powerful substitute for human growth hormone, some otherthings—but nothing that was found to cause our gigantism. Mom found greatsuccess in marketing the things she discovered, though not here—the FDA saideverything she suggested was a drug and had to be regulated. Mom made a lot ofmoney overseas and in Europe. She invested for each of her daughters, which ishow I got this building here."Rachel choked. "That's why I act and dress like I do—to keep men away. If I'mattracted to a man at all, I start busting out of my clothes. But you're areally nice and handsome, and you were so kind and nice to me, and we had somuch in common that—that I fell in love with you. That's why I accepted yourinvitation tonight. I just wanted to feel good around a man. I'm afraid thosedrinks I had—""Yeah," I breathed, nodding. "The guy fixing the drinks at the theater wasadding Southern Comfort to that frozen drink. I thought I tasted it in yourswhen you let me take a sip, but I wasn't sure."Rachel nodded. "Those drinks loosened me up too much. When you kissed me, I lostcontrol. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."I honestly had no idea what to say. Rachel held her hand out to me in a gestureof apology, as the tears streamed down her face. I stood up and nerved myself towalk slowly towards her. She was still so big.
"Rachel," I asked, "how can you live like-like that?"She smiled in self-derision. "That's another facet of the curse. After we havesex we begin to shrink back to normal. I'm starting to shrink right now, but itgoes much more slowly. I've never grown so big before. It may take a couple ofdays for me to return to normal size. I'm only a giant when I'm aroused,remember?""Do I ever," I replied. I couldn't help the grin that crossed my face. Rachelgave me a shy smile in return. I was being pulled by several emotions. She wasgigantic. Her hands looked big and strong enough to crush me. Her breasts,squeezed against her thighs, were immense pillows of smothering flesh. Her facewas fetching, surrounded by a halo of thick, gleaming hair. Her eyes were sillthe same, but shiny with her tears. It had to be the most inappropriate thoughtI could ever have had at that moment, but I couldn't believe how pretty she was.
I found myself rubbing my head in indecision and confusion when my eye fell onher PC desk. A completely irrelevant, distracting thought connected inside myhead.
"Were you-you-when you moved your desk there a few days ago?" I asked. Icouldn't help the blush that reddened me. Rachel blushed deeply, too—it wasamazing, seeing that much skin turn pink—and nodded.
"I was thinking of you at the time. I was twenty feet tall when I finished. Ihad pushed my desk with my foot. It's the only way my sisters and I can—cansatisfy ourselves without possibly hurting someone. We can't possibly tellpeople about the curse we're under—we'd all end up in some laboratory someplace.
So, we live by ourselves and keep to ourselves." Rachel paused for a moment. "Ifit helps, you were amazing, Brian. I've never felt so good and satisfied before.
Thank you.""I-ah-I-you're welcome," I replied. I didn't really. Rachel growing into agiant, some sort of curse, our incredible lovemaking—it was all too much. That'swhy there was so little furniture in her apartment-if she were suddenly to growit would be tumbled around like dollhouse fixtures. Things made sense, in a way.
In another way, they made no sense at all, especially what I was feeling towardsthe amazing, gargantuan woman sitting against the wall opposite me.
"Brian?" she asked. I looked up at her. To my surprise she did look theslightest bit less tall—I thought she could move her head without her hairrubbing the ceiling. I nodded.
"Can I just—can I just hold you before you go? I promise I won't hurt you. Ijust want-want to hold you in my hands again. I love you, Brian. I know youcan't love me, not now. But I'd like to just hold you one more time."I have no idea how long the two of us looked at one another. I, standing, Rachelsitting against a wall, both of us naked. I rubbed the back of my head again. Myskin felt sticky everywhere. I was still sore as hell. My brain was burningitself out on gigantic sex and evil curses. But I found my eyes looking up intoRachel's over and over. She was beautiful, and big—real big. She was alsopleasant, kind and had just declared her love for me. As I looked at theexpression of gentle entreaty that decorated her features an even moresurprising and revolutionary thought occurred to me. I remembered hearing asaying that if one falls off a cliff one might as well try to fly—you've nothingto lose. I lowered my arms and forced my feet to move, one at a time, taking meinto her grasp. Her eyes widened as she saw me walking towards her. I reachedout towards her with one hand and she cautiously extended both of her own aroundme.
Rachel slipped her hands around me. I felt giddy as she lifted me into the air.
I found myself just under her chin. Rachel was smiling and crying at the sametime.
"Rachel," I said slowly, "I-I love you, too. I haven't the faintest idea howwe're going to do this, but I'd still like to try. You are a very nice person,and a pretty, pretty woman. I-I don't know what the hell to say, dammit."Rachel choked and giggled at the same time. I reached out and touched her chin.
Her skin was wet from her tears. I managed to balance myself on her hands. Ilooked into her huge, blue eyes. Reaching out my hands I touched her chin. Isuddenly felt her fingers rub my body. It scared the hell out of me, but onlyfor a moment—she was stroking and caressing me, gently and cautiously. I wasenthralled by the sheer sensuality of each touch she applied to my body. Ikissed her chin. Rachel felt what I did and lifted her hands a little higher. Ilooked at her lips. They were each as thick as my hands were long. I leanedforward and kissed each one. They were just like I remembered them—soft, moist,delicious.
"Rachel?" I asked. Rachel moved her hands away from her face so she could see mefully.
"Yes, Brian?""After we're married, what do you say we try this again? I promise I'll do mybest for you. Maybe I'll have super motility, or something—"I had to stop. What I just said sounded so ridiculous. But then Rachel began tosmile. A huge, stunning smile. I found myself lost in it, and in her eyes. Shebegan to lift me up to her lips again, puckering up to kiss me.
"What the hell am I getting myself into," I muttered. Rachel began to laugh,softly.
