Confrontations, First Four Chapters

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    by Mighty Lingster

    Chapter 1

    Hazel sighed into her glass of wine. After a day of abuse from her boss, from her co-workers and from various persons she encountered on the streets and in the subway, she felt spent. “I wish I got better at confrontations,” she said to her friend Myra.

    “Oh, tell me about it,” Myra said, taking a drag on her cigarette. “You let the world kick the shit out of you every day.”

    “Yeah,” Hazel agreed. She sighed and looked around the bar – they were sitting on stools in an illegal smokeasy in Chinatown, on the third floor of what had probably been a textile sweatshop at the end of the last century. Say, 1998. Two thirtyish men with greasy hair were making out with three girls wearing Catholic school uniforms in a corner booth. Hazel turned away from them in disgust, back toward Myra. “How’d you find this shithole?”

    Another slow drag from her cigarette, and then, “Read about it online.”

    “How come Bloomberg’s smoking cops don’t know about it?”

    “Beats me,” Myra said after a moment. “The shit’s all in code on blogs and message boards, you know? None of these places have names or anything – you just have to figure it out.” Then a pause, “Maybe the smoking cops are just tired of ruining people’s fun?”

    “Yeah, but…” Hazel rolled her head in the direction of the impending six counts of statutory rape in the corner, “…the shit that goes on in here is pretty bad.”

    “Oh, honey, that’s nothing. Last time I was in here there was a fourteen year old boy with a transvestite. Dry-humping on that table over there.”

    “Which one was dry-humping?”

    “Does it matter?” Myra cackled. “It’s too fucking foul for words, either way.”

    “I guess,” Hazel said, a sigh in her voice. After a pause, she whispered, “What, what kind of…what nationality are these people?”

    “The imported beers are all Iranian, so I guess they’re from there.”

    “Ooh! Magic carpets!” Hazel reached for an ornate little brass brazier, and rubbed it. “I wish I got what I want from confrontations!” Looking at Myra, “Maybe there’s a genie.”

    Myra raised an eyebrow, reached over and rubbed the lamp herself. “I wish my ex would get dumped by his new girlfriend and come crawling back to me so I can tell him to go fuck himself.”

    “Well, that’s not a very nice thing to wish for,” Hazel laughed.

    “Assholes,” Myra said, “world’s full of ‘em. And they’re the only ones who really ever get ahead.”

    “Yeah, I can’t believe I’m 30, still single, and still working for a loser.”

    “And still living with that bitch in that shithole apartment,” Myra added, stressing the first word.

    “Thanks for reminding me.”

    Just then one of the schoolgirls came up to the bar, and ordered five drinks. She kept talking loudly with the people back in her booth, and laughing. And despite the bar being almost completely empty at 7pm, she had chosen to stand right next to Hazel, with just an inch or two separating them.

    The young girl was sloshed, and when the drinks came, she tried to pick them all up once, with three on the bottom and two on top. When she dropped them, they landed on Hazel.

    “Shit!” Hazel blurted, jumping up from her stool.

    “Oh my God!” the girl shrieked, looking guilty but laughing at the same time.

    “You think this is funny? You think this is FUNNY!? You stupid…little…whore!” Hazel shrieked, her arms lifted away from her sides as beer, wine and assorted mixed cocktails worked their way through her clothes to her skin.

    The girl looked hurt. “Well, maybe you should have helped me….or, or not been sitting there!”

    “Not sitting here? Are you stupid? I’ve been here for over an hour! You could have ordered your drinks anywhere along the bar! Jesus! RRRRAAAAAGHGH!!! I have to get out of here before I flip.” Hazel took one last look at the girl through hooded eyes, and was surprised to see that despite the uniform, she seemed older up close than she’d guessed earlier. Her first impression was that the girl had been 13 or 14, but it was obvious now that she was at least twenty. “Weird,” she thought.

    Myra was tottering behind her as she charged out, “Slow down, slow down! Geez, what’s gotten into you? I thought you said you weren’t good at confrontations! You told her off!”

    “Dunno. It just seemed to come out of nowhere,” she replied. Then, after a minute of stomping up Lafayette added, “It really felt good.”

    “It LOOKS good! Seriously, you look years younger – like someone took a weight off your shoulders.”

    “I really feel great! I should do that more often.”

    Chapter 2

    Her roommate Geraldine wasn’t home when Hazel came through the door. She plopped down on the couch and turned on the television – there was a reality show with lots of men trying to be selected by one woman. “That’s not my reality,” she said. After a few minutes of watching, Hazel blinked, and when she opened her eyes the room was dark, the television was off and the wall clock said 3:22 am. She stood up, ready for soreness in her joints from hours in one position, but it didn’t come. She made her way to her room, carefully hung her work clothes, and then jumped into bed.

    The alarm went off at 6:30 and Hazel nearly leapt out of bed. She was expecting to feel hungover, but felt fine. “Huh,” she said to herself, “I haven’t dodged a hangover like this in years.”

    She made her way to the bathroom and turned on the light and got into the shower. When she was done, she got out and began to get ready. Coming back into the bathroom after the mirror had defogged, she was startled to see how good she looked. “Hey, gorgeous!” she said to herself, and proceeded to notice how her skin seemed smoother and firmer, and that little soft bit of flesh under her chin seemed to have disappeared.

    Hazel remembered what Myra had said the night before, about looking younger. Surely it couldn’t be a result of arguing with that girl, she thought. “I must have lost some weight without noticing.” And sure enough, the scale showed that Hazel was down to 110, from the 122 she’d weighed the last time she had checked, a few weeks earlier. That was just about what she’d weighed in college.

    Her clothes all fit, though the bottoms all seemed a little loose, her tops all fit the same. “That’s gotta be the first time I’ve ever lost weight and kept it in my boobs,” she thought, “I didn’t even have to go to the gym.”

    In the kitchenette she finally ran into Geraldine, who looked terrific and sexy, as usual. “Geri” hadn’t put on her blouse yet, and was strutting around the living room and small kitchen wearing just a bra and panties. The blinds were open, so she was putting on a show of her big breasts for the neighbors across the street.

    “Hey, did you lose some weight?” Geri asked.

    “Yeah!” Hazel did a little twirl, “How’s it look?”

    “Looks good! I was thinking that you were getting a little chunky, but you took care of it, huh?”

    “Yeah. Um, thanks. I guess.”

    “Hey, that guy I met last month in Beaver Creek. Dan? I told you about him.”

    “Um…I don’t think I remem…”

    “Anyway,” Geri interrupted, “He’s coming to stay tomorrow and…”

    “TOMORROW?” Hazel interrupted.

    “Yeah, anyway, I just wanted to be considerate and let you know. It’s just for the weekend.”

    “’Tomorrow’ isn’t considerate. Last week would have been considerate,” Hazel said, strongly. “You’re always doing this. It’s not a huge deal but when you know someone’s coming to stay for a few days, you should let me know when you know.”

    “Well, um…” Geri started, clearly surprised to hear any resistance from mousy little Hazel.

    “It’s not cool. It’s not cool for roommates to do that.”

    “Hey, hey! What’s got into you? You’re a tiger this morning, huh?” Geri said, even though she shook her head, as if she were a little dazed.

    “I…yeah,” Hazel was annoyed, and though she’d never had the guts to stand up to Geri and the first time she did, she was still disappointed that Geri defused her by making a joke of it. Well, at least she’d stood up to her for a few seconds.

    “Dan’s SO cute and so smart, you’re gonna love him.”

    “Ha!” Geri teased back, feeling bold, “What’s he see in you?”

    “Well, I don’t know what he sees in ME, but I can tell you what he couldn’t take his eyes off,” and with that she cupped her unusually large breasts and hoisted them up. Hazel noticed that Geri made a funny face, and looked down at her breasts, as if something was wrong. Finally she said, “Weird, I guess I must have lost a little weight, too. Well, not enough to make a difference.”

    But Hazel wasn’t really paying attention, as she felt a sudden twinge of pain where her bra strap crossed over one of her shoulders, and had to adjust it.

    Chapter 3

    Hazel kept losing her balance on the way to the subway. There was a funny sort of jiggly feeling in her chest, and her legs felt just a little weird. The combination seemed to be throwing off her balance and making her wobble. It was hard enough walking on heels, but today she felt like her center of gravity had moved up a couple of inches – probably a result of the weight loss, she reasoned.

    As usual the subway was a mess. She had to get on at 103rd St., and then switch at Times Square to get to her office in the Criminal Courts. It was packed, body to body, and some scrawny guy kept looking down at her. She kept looking up, expectantly, but whenever she did that he’d look away. This happened several times before Hazel realized that the guy was looking at her breasts, something that to her knowledge had never happened before.

    She was running this over in her head when the motorman pressed the brake too hard, causing everyone in the train to shift forward. She felt herself thrown against the scrawny guy, her body pressing against his, and then she continued to stumble, sliding along him and slowly falling toward the floor. He reached out to help her, she thought, but then felt his hand brush against her breast, and linger for a moment, fingertips briefly caressing her left nipple before he grabbed her arm and hoisted her back to her feet. He looked at her knowingly, and she flipped.

    “You fucking pervert!” she screamed, and suddenly she had plenty of space on a train that a moment a go seemed as packed as a sardine can. Still, he was close enough to her that she had to crane her neck to look up at him.

    “Hey, you’re welcome,’ he shouted back at her. “Your nice little skirt would have covered in subway floor shit if I hadn’t helped you up.”

    “So you figured you deserved to cop a feel?” she asked, “Should women fuck every guy who holds a door for them?”

    He had a smile on his face that indicated he was about to say something clever, but suddenly it faded and he looked confused. He seemed to shrink down into his clothes a bit, and Hazel took this as an indication that he had no more fight left in him. The train was pulling into the 42nd St. station anyway, and she needed to switch. As she got off the train, her feet were in agony. Bad enough that she was having trouble balancing herself today, but now her shoes seemed too small! She hobbled up the stairs and over to the N platform, wondering how it was that her shoes suddenly seemed so tight even though the scale said she’d lost weight.

    She suffered through the remainder of the trip, and then through the short walk to her office, from the City Hall Station to the Criminal Courts Building.

    When she got to her floor she ran into her co-worker Matt, who sat in a cube near hers.

    “You’re early,” he said, looking at his watch and smiling. At first she thought he was being ironic, but then he finished with, “are you behind on something?”

    She noticed that it was actually only 8:25, a full 35 minutes ahead of her scheduled arrival time. “Wow, I got here quick this morning,” she replied.

    “Yeah,” he said, “you look different – did you change your hair or something?”

    “No, it’s the same as ever,” she replied, smiling.

    Matt looked at her and began, “That’s funny, you look…you look…”

    “Thinner?” she thought, without saying it.

    “Taller. Yeah you look taller. Must be the heels,” he concluded, looking at her suspiciously.

    She sat down at her desk. “Taller? How could I be taller? I wear these heels twice a week,” she mouthed quietly to herself, as she unconsciously lowered her chair to allow her knees to fit under her desk.

    Her boss showed up at 9:15. He walked straight by her desk without saying anything and continued into his office. A few minutes later, he sent an instant message, telling her he needed to run some paperwork down to the holding cells. She hated going down there, so she IM’d back, “Can’t Joe do it?”

    “No. Come to my office” was the return reply. She put her shoes back on and got up.

    When Hazel walked in, her boss asked, “Why do you always challenge my authority?”

    She realized he must be having a good morning thus far, because he hadn’t begun by immediately berating her for insubordination. She replied, “I just hate going down there. It’s creepy and you know I don’t like it.”

    “Well, it won’t take you long.”

    “OK,” she took the paperwork and headed for the door, when her boss said “Wait.”

    She whirled around, a little flutter in her heart anticipating a confrontation. Instead he scrunched up his face and said, “Did you change your hair? You look different.”

    Chapter 4

    Working in the criminal courts building in lower Manhattan, Hazel was accustomed to seeing all sorts of bad people scattered all over the place. But down in the holding cells the dose was a lot more concentrated. Lots of guys, some in street clothes, some in Rikers uniforms, prison uniforms from upstate, and others who’d been shipped in special from parts unknown – blue, orange, green, red – like M&M’s with rap sheets. Some of these guys had been locked up for some time, and she didn’t particularly care to contemplate what they thought when they saw a woman walk by.

    She had to run a file sleeve down to the cell block, because there was a change in status of one of their prisoners, and he needed to be outprocessed and sent to some other facility. This was supposed to have been done last night, but the paperwork had been hung up somewhere. Now it was a rush. Rush rush rush.

    She was nearly there, walking down a long corridor when she heard some shouting from up ahead. A man in an orange jumpsuit came around the corner at the far end of the hallway. He was running – HARD – and a handcuff was swinging free from one arm. A second or two after he appeared, several corrections officers, also running, came around the corner, shouting for him to stop.

    Hazel backed up against a wall and pressed the file sleeve into her chest, hoping that all of this chaos would sweep right by her.

    The escaped prisoner wasn’t going to let that happen. He skidded to a halt on the linoleum and grabbed Hazel. Her papers went flying everywhere, and the corrections officers likewise skidded to a halt, about 20 feet from her.

    Hazel was almost petrified – the guy in the orange jumpsuit had stretched the chain of his handcuffs across her throat, and was standing behind her. She faced the cops.

    The corrections officers didn’t seem to even know the guy’s name – they just kept calling him “buddy.” Clearly he’d broken loose during some movement of detainees, gotten through one or two key doors, and was now loose in an unsecured portion of the building.

    “Just back off!” the detainee shouted, “Back off! BACK OFF!!”

    More people were arriving, now – men in uniforms with batons and cans of pepper spray, all telling the guy to let her go. She could smell him – he was a big guy, strong, breathing heavy. But he wasn’t holding the chain that tightly across her throat, so Hazel finally decided to reach up and insert her hand under the chain.

    She tried to pull it away, which made him tighten it. “Hey, what are you doing? Don’t struggle!” he shouted at her.

    “Why don’t you let me go, asshole?” And with that she raised her other hand up alongside the other and tried to pull the chain away from her throat. He jerked her closer to him, and shouted something to the police, but meanwhile Hazel just kept pushing. Finally, she realized there was some give on the chain again, and she pushed with all her might. The guy seemed surprised that she was strong enough to push the chain away, and started to redouble his efforts to restrain her.

    Hazel felt an increase in the pressure, but knew she could handle it. He wasn’t as big and strong as she’d thought, apparently. In fact, she realized now that he wasn’t much taller than her. She crouched down a bit, pulling him with her, and then straightened out her legs explosively, throwing the both of them back against the wall. She felt one of her shoes pop off, and started to fall. He fell with her, and as they went down she released one of her hands from the chain (he didn’t seem to be trying very hard anymore), and reached back over her right shoulder for his hair. She felt her sleeve tear as she did it, but failing to find his hair, brought her elbow down as hard as she could, smashing it into his solar plexus. He crumpled, and dropped the chain. All the corrections officers gaped.

    After it was over, she leaned up against the wall as one of the officers brought her a cup of coffee. She was trembling from the adrenaline that was in her blood, but she still had the presence of mind to notice that the officers were all pretty short – most of them were about her height or just a little taller. “No wonder the guy got away,” she thought, “the guards are all pee-wees.” Amazingly, the escaped detainee who’d grabbed her was a really little guy, probably not quite her height, and pretty scrawny, too. She was a little embarrassed that she’d let him grab her to begin with.

    The officer who brought her the coffee was lingering. Finally he said, “So you, uh, you must work out a lot.”

    “Huh?” she replied.

    “Well, at first we thought you were in real trouble, but then at the end you were tossing him around like a rag doll, and you know, you’re pretty, uh, built. Muscular.”

    “Muscular? I’m muscular? What?”

    “Yeah, right there,” and he pointed to her left arm.

    Hazel looked down, and saw that the soft slender arm she’d had that morning has been replaced with one that was powerfully muscled – like one of those female bodybuilders on TV. She reached over with her right hand and squeezed it, amazed at how hard and full it seemed. Then she squeezed her right sleeve with her left hand, and found that it, too, had become muscular.

    Despite her amazement at this transformation, she found the presence of mind to say, “Excuse me, I need to visit the ladies’ room.”

    As soon as Hazel was inside the bathroom, she latched the door and hurriedly removed the remnants of her blouse.

    “Holy shit.”

    The body in the mirror – the person in the mirror – looked very little like the one that was so familiar to her. For one thing she didn’t look a day over 22 years of age. She’d grown significantly taller – she seemed to be 5’8” or 5’9” now, almost as tall as the toilet stall, quite a change from the 5’3” that was indicated on her driver’s license. Her breasts were bigger, too, though she was still by no means busty. But big changes though the decrease in apparent age, and the increase in height and cup size were, they seemed like nothing compared to the unusual muscular development she now possessed.

    Hazel turned around in the mirror, fascinated by the changes. She was thrilled and horrified at the same time. Cautiously, she raised her right arm and flexed the bicep, and gave out a little “eep!” when it rose, and rose some more. Her arm looked to be at least as thick around as any guy she’d ever dated.

    She wasn’t stupid – she’d noticed the changes in her body since the night before, and at least unconsciously had realized what was happening all along.

    “So when I get into confrontations with people, I get their more desirable traits. I got youth from that girl, and I got some curves from Geri, and then some height from that guy on the subway, and quite a bit of height and…strength from this guy in the hallway. This has got to have something to with that wish I made last night. It’s crazy, but that thing has a real genie in it.”

    All the while, Hazel was continuing to strut and flexing in the mirror, examining her new muscles and more imposing physique. It was a little hypnotic, but finally she broke away. In one way she liked being so tall and buff, and of course she was delighted to look so young, but she couldn’t quite imagine how she could step back into her life with such a radically changed body. She put her blouse back on, and managed to get both arms back into the sleeves, and all the buttons closed, except one that sat midpoint on her chest. Barefoot, she ran back up to her office and managed to throw on her now very-ill-fitting blazer before anyone noticed she’d returned.

    There was a commotion shortly thereafter, the security officer had called her boss and everyone knew what had happened. Hazel was trying to get her things together and get out of the office, but everyone was circled around her desk asking questions. She was trying to sit low in her chair, so that no one would notice that she was so much taller and thicker, but the sleeves of her blazer were bulging from the pressure of her muscular arms and shoulders.

    Finally her boss came out, and told everyone to go back to their desks. Hazel had never appreciated him before, but he was finally making himself useful.

    When everyone left, he asked if she was OK. She said that she was, but that she really wanted to go home.

    “Well, HR wants to talk to you first,” he said, “but then by all means, go home, take a day or two.”

    “No, I can’t talk to anybody right now. I just…just have to get out of here.”

    “Hazel, it’s policy. After something like this the person has to be debriefed.”

    “And I told you no!,” she began, but then noticed her boss getting a faraway look in his eyes, and felt the seam in one of her blazer’s sleeves start to pop open, her muscles beginning to swell even more. “OK, I’ll go, I’ll go.”

    Hazel had some gym clothes at her desk – she never went, and they’d been sitting there for months. She also had her coat in the closet, so she changed quickly in the bathroom, replacing her blouse and bra with a t-shirt. Her skirt was tight but still serviceable, and she managed to squeeze her feet into her trainers. Then she put her coat on – the sleeves were tight and didn’t even come close to reaching her wrists – and hustled down to HR.

    She had to wait for twenty minutes in a small, open area in HR that had a couple sofas and a coffee table, and old magazines. Mostly the magazines concerned celebrities and sports, but there were a few women’s fitness magazines. One of them was emblazoned with “A Buff Body – FAST!!”.

    “Tell me about it,” Hazel said aloud.

    “Excuse me?” a voice said, and Hazel looked up to see Nadine O’Connor, the woman who ran HR in her building.

    “Oh, uh, I didn’t realize you were there,” Hazel added, “I was just talking to myself.”

    “Well, you’ve had a bad time this morning and it’s not uncommon for people to be a bit jittery after something like that, ” Mrs. O’Connor said, as she began to walk away and gestured to Hazel that she ought to follow.

    Hazel had always noticed that Mrs. O’Connor had a real bearing of authority – people always seemed to do what she said, and she never seemed to have any doubt that they would. It was always “Follow me,” or “Fill out this form,” or “Your employment has been terminated,” never any asking, always telling, and then people obeying. It was an enviable set of skills to have. And so Hazel followed.

    As soon as they were seated, Mrs. O’Connor slid a form across the table and said, “This is a waiver you’ll need to endorse.”


    “Yes, it’s just some legal wording about the incident this morning. It’s a common requirement for employees to fill this out after an incident.”

    Normally Hazel would have put her head down and signed it. But she felt more confidence today – more than ever. She leaned forward, and felt the new muscles of her quads swell in response, and then felt her biceps stretching the fabric of her coat as she placed her elbows and intertwined her fingers.

    “It’s a funny thing,” Hazel began, “I thought I was coming down here for counseling or something, and now I see that it’s really just the City trying to cover its ass.”

    Mrs. O’Connor smiled. “Oh, you’ll be eligible for compensation for your counseling costs, and to return to work, young lady, once you complete this form.” She felt glee rise in her – the City paid her well to crush dissent like Hazel was showing.

    But Hazel was having none of it. “You’re really upping the ante, huh? It’s kind of funny the way you keep avoiding using the word ‘sign’ – ‘endorse’, ‘fill out’, ‘complete’, you keep saying, instead of ‘sign’. And now you’re implying that I’ll lose my job if I don’t SIGN AWAY MY RIGHTS. Shouldn’t there be a union representative here for this? An attorney? Why am I being asked to do this by some HR flunky?”

    Mrs. O’Connor made a funny face, as if she were suddenly confused. “I…I know you’re upset but you need to, to do this.” Her supervisor at City Hall had suggested having an attorney do this, but she’d been so confident that she’d be able to handle Hazel with no problem. But she’d clearly lost control of the situation, and she didn’t have any idea what to do to get it back.

    “I don’t need to do anything,” Hazel said, a smile forming on her face as she realized what was happening. After the incident in the hall she’d found out what it was like to have a strong body, but now she had an even better feeling – a powerful personality. Everything seemed possible, now. Hazel rose to her full height, watching with delight as the eyes of the formerly unstoppable Nadine O’Connor widened in fear. “Tell you what,” Hazel offered, “have your attorneys contact me within the next few days and we’ll work something out.”

    “O…OK,” Mrs. O’Connor stammered, her hands trembling as she tried to retrieve the unsigned waiver from her desk, “By…by the way…have you done something with your hair?”


    Come on…that’s a question? Of COURSE she should get more muscular! Stronger, bigger! That’s why were all here! 😀

    Go Hazel!


    Despite the possiblity of my subsequent mob immolation I suggest she doesn’t get more muscular. 😳

    At least immediately… 😯

    It would be nice for her to enjoy her new altered body for a while. Also the odd Politically Correctional world of 2108 is compelling as well.

    Perhaps a brush with Alchohol Tobacco and Firearms mayhaps?

    She might try to make it big in the new celebrity Blog frontier?

    I dunno anticipation is half the fun of gratification is all… 😉


    Despite the possiblity of my subsequent mob immolation I suggest she doesn’t get more muscular. 😳

    At least immediately… 😯

    It would be nice for her to enjoy her new altered body for a while. Also the odd Politically Correctional world of 2108 is compelling as well.

    You do realize it’s set today? There are smokeasies in Manhattan currently – at least several in Chinatown. The one in the story is based on one I’ve visited – and since they’re unlicensed bars (and thus can’t or won’t call the cops) all sorts of nasty shit goes on.

    I might actually make her less muscular for a bit – for instance, what if she decides she doesn’t like being so muscular, and sees a woman with a slender figure she covets? Well, Hazel would get smaller and the other woman…


    Couple of things that I wondered…

    What if Hazel meets a good friend who’s got really low self esteem, and she tries to push him or her to be more assertive… and then it blows up into a squabble?

    Hazel hasn’t been corrupted by this power like in Mistress of the House, has she? If she has, what would be the result if she met someone who had muscle/power/something she wanted… but her victim was perfectly cordial, friendly, mellow, and a true believer in "blessed are the peacemakers"?


    She’s already gotten too muscular too fast.


    storie needs to be finished in the least


    Any chance to see the next part of this wonderful story?



    I’m interested in the ramifications of this power… Is she going to go into taverns and pick fights with people? Does internet trolling count as conflicts… I’m certain you’re building up to something.


    It seems that this story line was abandoned  😥

    Is there no hope?


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