[stimpy]

Without further a-deux… ;D

Power Shot, Part 2

“But I don’t understand,” Elena intoned through a smirk as she climbed out of the limousine, “Some guy told me Club DCM was a gym!”

At that moment, a group of very well-dressed, very athletic men walked by.  At the front of the line was none other than Brad Partridge, all-star quarterback of the New England Patriots.  Through the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a pair of incredibly long, magnificently well-toned legs attached to silver high-heeled shoes slowly making their way out of the back of the limousine.  Very out-of-character with his terminally cool persona, he stopped and stared slack-jawed for a second.  Maria leaned forward and caught his gaze with her ice-blue eyes and grinned slightly.  She was quite impressed with his lines and the large size of his… feet.  After another moment, Partridge regained his composure and walked on while enduring a few chuckles from his teammates. 

Maria giggled as she continued to unfold her long legs, “well, I DO hope to get a workout in tonight!”

Elena flushed a bit as the entire group of athletes had walked by her without even a casual glance.  “Well, maybe you should get out of the limo sometime this evening, then!”

Maria grimaced a bit as she struggled to exit.  Her heel had caught in the doorway, causing her to jerk upward and bang her head on the roof.  After a curse and endless seconds of struggling and unfolding, she finally managed to work her way out of the limousine and stand up.  And up.  And up…

Now it was Elena’s turn to stare.  6 feet tall herself, she found herself looking into Maria’s chest.  She’s so tall already, she thought, why does she insist on wearing heels anyway?  But still, I didn’t think she was THAT tall.  And that wasn’t all:  she looked… bigger.  Her arms and chest looked especially well-developed.  Her legs were long and gorgeous as always, but even they seemed even rounder and better-defined than she remembered.  She must have been really hitting the gym.  And on top of all that, she looked even prettier than normal; her complexion was just about perfect.  This is going to be a tough night for my ego…

“Hello?  I think you were mentioning something about hurrying up?”

Elena broke out of her train of thought.  “Uh, yes… let’s go in.”

Club DCM was very unassuming on the outside: a simple brownstone with an oversized wooden door embossed in gold with the DCM logo.  The lone bouncer looked up at Maria, nodded, and opened the door without a word. 

*          *        *

Maria awoke with a hangover.  At first, she couldn’t remember what happened last night.  She slowly straightened up and jarred her memory as she banged her head on the headboard.  She recounted the events in her mind as she rubbed her head and dangled her legs off the edge of the bed.

The memories came back in waves of images and sensations.  First, the sensation of her dress being very tight, seeming to get tighter as the night went on.  She remembered breaking her heel early in the evening; fortunately, the manager was able to scrounge a pair of flat sandals for her.  She recalled the sight of the hyper-muscled blonde; Tetsuko was her name, dancing with the mustachioed club owner.  She was super-strong and pretty, too… and the guys didn’t seem intimidated.  Maybe a muscular look wouldn’t be so bad for Maria’s image after all.

Ah yes, and of course were the Patriots football players.  Backup quarterback Mark Citadel and kicker Sam Verdi, formerly players for the Amsterdam Admirals, were plying their language skills on Gwen and Gina, two extraordinarily tall Dutch girls.  A couple of defensive linemen got into animated conversations with Tetsuko, comparing training notes and (after a couple of drinks) arm-wrestling her (and losing).  Elena contented herself with the company of star wide receiver Tyrell “Rolling” Stone.  Even Coach Dubcek, a notorious disciplinarian, seemed to be relaxing a bit in conversation and beer with Mr. DCM and Testuko’s friend Sonja.

And then there was Brad.  He was very cute, but a lot shorter than she thought he’d be.  Listed at 6 foot 5, he barely came up to her chin even when she was in flats.  He was 6-1 on a good day, maybe.  He definitely had keen interest in her legs.  She wasn’t sure what the story was with the short hemline on her dress (and it seemed to get shorter as the night wore on), but she was happy to use it to full advantage and tantalize her companion. 

As the clock struck midnight, Coach called curfew and told his players to get back to the hotel.  The linemen grudgingly finished their beers and complied.  Mark and Sam were nowhere to be seen (nor were the tall Dutch girls)… had they already left?  Elena had disappeared as well, as had Tyrell.

“You too, Brad.”

“Coach,” Brad called out in a tone more befitting of “DUUUUDE…” while simultaneously throwing him a wide-eyed glance.

Coach was about to explode in a tirade of curses in response to this insubordination… until his eyes fell on Maria.  He started, eyed her up and down once, and growled.

“Not too late, OK?”

Maria’s memory became quite hazy after that.  There was a limousine, lots of vodka… her hotel room… lots of fun… a scream of pain… then a cell phone with an irate female voice.  She didn’t know much Portuguese other than the swear words, but she’s pretty sure she heard every single one.  The final image in her memory was Brad wincing in pain while hurriedly gathering up his clothes.

And speaking of pain, her head was throbbing.  There was no way she was going to be able to get through the day.  With a start, she remembered Sergei’s hangover cure in her gym bag.  She rolled over and stumbled as she got out of bed; her feet hit the floor much earlier than she had expected.  She righted herself and then foggily made her way to the closet.  She bent down to open the closet door, but she accidentally pulled it too hard and ripped it right off the hinges, smacking herself in the head with it in the process.  She groaned and cursed, oblivious to the fact that she was now holding a solid oak door in the air with one hand. 

Maria absently put the door down and reached for her gym bag.  After a few seconds of fumbling, she found one of the syringes.  She retrieved it and staggered back to the bed.  A massive vein in her upper arm made a tempting target.  She hit it and injected the liquid.

Almost immediately, she felt simultaneous pain and euphoria.  Her heart raced uncontrollably; with a final gasp, she fell to the bed unconscious.

[Fonk]

Oh dear, things can only get worse from here on in. :-[

Can I just also say, you should give some credit to Mr. DCM himself, not least for his cameo, but also for the use of one of his characters? 😉

[ScottG]

Indeed, this is a really good story, but I'm not sure how much longer you can pull off this angle where she does and doesn't realize her changes.  Anyway, I'm not the one writing it, so you continue however you'd like.

[stimpy]

Indeed, this is a really good story, but I'm not sure how much longer you can pull off this angle where she does and doesn't realize her changes. 

Denial ain't just a river in Egypt, you know…  😉

I think it's safe to say from here on in, even if she "doesn't notice,"  everyone else will.

Thanks for the kind comments, and thanks for your patience.  It could be awhile before the next chapter.

[stimpy]

Can I just also say, you should give some credit to Mr. DCM himself, not least for his cameo, but also for the use of one of his characters? 😉

Two, actually (even if I did misspell "Sonya"…)  🙂

I give him all the credit in the world; in fact, I was inspired to write it because of the posting of his drawings.  I wanted to contribute, but I can't draw!  ;D

Thanks for the kind words.

[BeachBoy]

Looking forward to seeing the next installment!

[stimpy]

Sorry it took so long.  I'm hoping Part 4 will be sooner rather than later…

Thanks for your patience!

Power Shot, Part 3

As she lay comatose on her bed, it started to happen.  It was almost a slow-motion convulsion, one every minute or so, where it seemed she stretched out fully but did not retract afterwards.  Her body got longer and longer as time passed, until her already-legendary legs protruded from the end of the bed.  It wasn’t long at all before her knees passed the edge, causing her feet to touch the floor.

But that wasn’t the only change.  With every convulsion, her shoulders got broader.  Her already-toned arms got firmer.  Her stomach went from taut to super-defined.  All of the muscles in her calves and thighs got firmer and firmer until they were rock-hard.

Speaking of which, the President viewed the scene on his closed-circuit television.  He wore a stern scowl, but his dilated pupils, slight blush, and somewhat asymmetric trousers belied his actual thoughts of the moment.  A pair of large men wearing blue track suits entered, carrying a disheveled, bloody. and badly-bruised man into the room.  They contemptuously tossed the man, sending him sprawling at the President’s feet.

“Ah, good morning, dear Sergei,” the President intoned slowly and evenly in a low voice, “I’m afraid you have quite a bit of explaining to do.”

“M…Mister President…. I – I don’t understand!  Explain what?”

“You can start,” the President replied as he grabbed Sergei by his collar, lifting him to the TV screen, “by telling me how our most talented and beautiful athlete is now over two meters tall and getting larger by the minute!”

Sergei stared at the screen, open-mouthed for many seconds.  “That’s… impossible!  It… can’t… be…”

“Now Sergei,” the President interrupted, “I need you to remain calm.  You must tell me what was in that syringe so we can find an antidote.  Was it one of those East German super-growth drugs?”

“But no, Mister President, I swear all that was in there were vitamins and a small quantity of an American anti-aging formula to help her heal!”

The President was puzzled.  Anti-aging formula?  But that didn’t make any sense – the Americans didn’t have anything like that.  Unless he got hold of… no, it couldn’t be…
“Sergei, this is very important.  Who gave you the anti-aging formula?”

“It was a salesman from Slade Corporation.  He surprised me a few nights ago when he…”

The President’s eyes became as wide as saucers as his mind went back to an intelligence briefing from several months back.  Could it be that anti-aging formula?  But that’s not possible!  It was all destroyed!  Wasn’t it?

His bewilderment turned to rage as he threw Sergei to the ground.  “You injected our greatest athlete with some elixir you got from an American salesman?! YOU ARE AN IMBECILE!  Take him away!”

Incredibly, amid the commotion, nobody was watching the TV screen as Maria’s eyes opened and she jerked awake with a gasp.

[Fonk]

Hmmmm, interesting interlude! 😉

[stimpy]

Some odd twists and turns to come.  I have lots of ideas, but unfortunately not a lot of time.  Thanks for being patient!

Power Shot, Part 4

Maria sat up with a start, smashing her head against the ceiling fan.  To her amazement, she barely felt it, the edge of her mind taking note of splinters of wood, metal, and fiberglass shooting out across the room in front of her.  She also noticed her feet were flat on the floor and her knees protruded several inches above the top of the mattress. 

Her first step was to examine exactly what happened.  She cautiously stood up (more or less) until her hair brushed the ceiling, then made her way to the bathroom mirror.  What she discovered looking back at her was astonishing.  In addition to the obvious fact she was now about two and a half meters tall, there were a number of other equally shocking changes.  She tried to remain calm as she took inventory:

First was the incredibly long blond hair, reaching most of the way down her back.  While obviously mussed from the previous evening, it seemed as though it naturally wanted to return to a state of order.  It was definitely hair to die for.

Next was the face.  She let out a gleeful giggle as she examined it.  She was always known for being beautiful, but it seemed the piercing blue eyes and perfect heart-shaped face looking back at her was at another level entirely.  The only imperfections she could notice:  she looked a bit girlish… and there was a small blemish on her chin.

As she kept looking down, she felt her first slight twinge of disappointment:  her breasts were smaller.  It also seemed here shoulders were less broad than before, and her arms seemed slightly skinnier.  Odd, she thought, since the incident with the ceiling fan left little doubt of her strength.

Maria’s disappointment quickly returned to giddiness as she continued to look down at her perfectly flat stomach… and her legs.  She was quite aware her long legs were the main focus for most of the guys, so the fact that they were even longer and with absolutely perfect shape made her quite happy.  They were a bit skinnier than she might like, but most men preferred that look anyway.

Suddenly, a wave of realization came over her.  She had a match this afternoon – against Serena, no less!  She had to get dressed and over to Flushing Meadows right away!

Completely failing to make the connection that now might not be the best time to be seen in public, Maria rushed to find clothes that fit.  It quickly became apparent the white outfit she planned to wear was not going to work.  She remembered the set of Power Armour she was given as a free sample.  The ultra-stretchable fabric lived up to its billing, soon leaving her clad in a sheer black top and form-fitting black shorts with white stripes.  Skinny as she was, she didn’t think she exactly needed the slimming effect, but at least the clothes fit.  Next were the shoes – obviously her tennis shoes would no longer fit.  Fortunately, in his rush to leave last night, Brad left a set of tennis shoes.  With a giggle, Maria tried them on; they more or less fit.  Now it was off to the match!

Maria worked her way to the door and started as Ivan, her body guard, was blocking her way.  Ivan  also started as he looked up… and up… and up.

“I… I have orders not to let you leave this room.  Go back inside… please.”

Maria brushed aside the 6-foot-9, 280 pound man as if he weren’t even there.  “I don’t think so.  I’ll pay you your $5000 later, OK?  Wish me luck!”

Of course, there was the small matter of how to GET from Central Park West to Flushing Meadows.  Maria emerged onto the street as she pondered this problem.  Hundreds of New Yorkers busily pushed past the 8-foot tall blonde without even breaking their stride.  “That’s freakin’ great.  A blonde chick on stilts,” one muttered.

A taxi was not practical.  And it was not as though Ivan was going to get the limo for her, even if she could fit in.  At that moment, a wave of euphoria came over her.  That’s it!  She’d run there!  And with that, Maria took off running towards the Queensboro Bridge.  Even the sight of an 8-foot tall woman running at 15 miles per hour across Manhattan only evinced a few quizzical glances from pedestrians.  “What the hell is that, anyway… a freakin’ robot or something?”

*          *        *

“Mister President, we have isolated the active ingredient of the anti-aging formula, and have formulated an antidote.”  Holding a vial containing brownish-red liquid was Elena, who was not only Maria’s “best friend,” but also a top FSB agent, renowned biomedical engineer… and the bachelor President’s mistress.

The president stood motionless, staring at the TV screen showing a splintered hotel doorframe and unconscious bodyguard.  He finally turned and said, almost glumly, “That is all very well, but now we have the task of finding her and administering it.”

Elena looked at the vial and smiled.  “Leave that to me.”

[ratlaf]

Awww, where'd all her muscles go…  ???  😉

An excellent next chapter. Thanks!

[Author]

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