SUPERNATURAL HELPER: an unauthorised sequel of sorcerous comeuppance

                               by D.A. Graf

(Author's note:  if this story makes no sense, go read "Nature's Helper"
by Dr Enlarge.)

     A janitor was sent in haste to shut off the school's water main.  The
door to the cooking classroom was quickly shut and jury-rigged locked from
the inside.  All the curtains were drawn on the classroom windows,
discouraging the hordes of students who, motivated by curiosity or lust,
elbowed and jostled each other for a glimpse of the students who were
locked in.
     The rest of the student body was herded into the school gymnasium where
they were informed that classes had been cancelled for the rest of the day.
Cheers were quickly silenced as a stern warning followed that any student
who told anybody outside the school what they had seen would be expelled.
     A quick head-count revealed that two students, both members of the very
same cooking class, were missing.  Their cars were not in the student
parking lot.  Phone calls to each student's home found that neither was
there, though enough time had passed for each student to arrive, if home
were their destination.
     By the testimony of the girls sealed in the cooking classroom (by their
own request, and by logistics), one of the missing students was known to
be the culprit.  Why the other had left class before their misadventure
had begun was still a question, and a point of suspicion...

     She rushed to the restroom and locked herself in a stall.  There she
quickly stripped off her sweater and unhooked her bra with a sigh of
relief.  Thank God she'd worn the front-fastening one!  Unbound, her
breasts sprang forward, larger, fuller, and rounder than they'd been when
she came to school that morning.  Puberty brought changes, but they
weren't supposed to happen this fast!
     She hefted the twin globes of flesh as if to reassure what her eyes
told her. Her eyebrows arched in surprise and panic as she felt them swell
even more.  As she watched they filled out, more slowly than they had at
first, but fast enough that she could even see the expansion.  What was
happening?
     She quelled her rising panic with a quick mantra, and realised as she
calmed down that the growth was slowing.  It gradually stopped, but
showed no signs of reversing.  Her formerly 32A chest was now something
around a 34D.  God, they were heavy!  She gently let go of them, and felt
them settle into a high, round shape which would have pleased her, had it
been her idea.
     How had this happened?  She knew such things could be done, even if
they were beyond her present talent.  Even more dramatic changes were
possible, even simple, to the women of her family.  Why, Gran was
ninety-eight, and had just done her third Playboy pictorial!  Of course,
the photographers would never believe that Gran was a day over thirty.
     But a power outside of her had done this to her.  A power unlike her
own, she knew, for part of her training was sensitivity to the presence
and use of magery around her.  She had to riddle this puzzle.
     She sat on the cool tile floor of the stall, legs crossed under her,
hands palm-up on her thighs.  Her new breasts jutted proudly outward as she
held her back straight, their increased weight making her feel awkward.
Worse, the air conditioning made her nipples hard.  Despite these
distractions, she managed to slip into a trance deep enough to turn her
senses inward.
     The first thing she noticed was that her hormones were all out of
balance.  Something had triggered her glands to release the hormones,
proteins, and enzymes that turned a girl into a woman, and kicked them
into overdrive.  Strangely, though, this same alien substance had
inhibited all but one of the intended effects of the hormones, so that
only mammary development was accelerated.  Accelerated was right!  If
she'd blown up any larger or faster, she might have burst right out of her
sweater!
     Finding the chemical culprit was simple:  it was the only pharmaceutical
substance in her blood.  Her family didn't use man-made drugs.  Why bother
when you could make your body heal itself?
     What a concoction!  She seemed to have an entire pharmacy swimming
around in her!  How had it gotten there?  Pharmacy... a horrible suspicion
formed and grew.  Righteous anger flared, but she put it away to deal
with the more immediate problem.  She wished now she had not stopped in
her rush to the restroom to get that last drink of water!  She set about
flushing the abominable compound from her blood and tissues.  Her
hormones would seek out their own natural balance, once the intruder was
eliminated.
     She was just zipping up her jeans after a satisfying, purging pee when
the school fire alarm screamed.  She stuffed her useless bra into her
bookbag and ran from the restroom, trying to compensate for the extra
jiggle under her sweater.  As she made for the school exit, she noticed
that many students were ignoring the usual fire drill in favor of crowding
around the entrance to the cooking classroom.  From inside she heard cries
of horrified panic and orgasmic pleasure, and the hiss of spraying water.
But  no fire roared.  She pressed forward, suspicion and horror growing,
and was rewarded by a glimpse of what was happening to the other students
in the class.
     Hand over her mouth she backed away.  Her gaze was caught by movement
to one side:  covered by the press of people trying to see and get into the
classroom, the only boy in the class strolled away, soaking wet, trying at
once to be nonchalant and stealthy.  The barely-concealed grin on his face
and the bulge in his jeans confirmed her suspicion.  This time she didn't
bother to quell her anger.  How DARE he!
     The hiss of water slowed and stopped, and the cries took on a despairing
tone.  The students were shoved back by stone-faced faculty, and the doors to
the room were shut.  She heard the PA blare, directing all students to the
gymnasium.  She knew that he would ignore it.  So would she.

     The desk clerk regarded his sodden state with suspicion, and held onto
the room key long enough to warn him against loud music and wild parties.
She needn't have bothered.  Other people around was the last thing on his
mind.  Right now, what he wanted was to be alone with his memories.
     He locked himself in and leaned against the door, panting.  Then the
grin that already made his cheeks ache spread his lips again, and a laugh
that bordered on the maniacal bubbled up.  He shoved himself away from
the door and slapped his hands to his head, smoothing his still-wet hair
back from his face.  He couldn't help it: he did a little dance of sheer
joy.  GOD, what a day!  His formula was successful beyond his dreams!
     He allowed the image which seemed engraved on his memory to play across
his mind's eye again.  Breasts, inflating, titanic breasts, gorging and
swelling on water and his formula!  His erection resurrected and strained
against his chafing jeans.  Without a moment's hesitation he stripped out
of them and started to stroke himself.  After a few strokes, though, he
realised he better get some lubrication or he'd rub himself raw.
     Unfortunately, the complimentary toiletries tray in the bathroom had
shampoo, soap, toothpaste, and moist towelettes -- everything but cream
or oil.  He regarded his wet pants, sourly considered the effort of
struggling back into them just for a trip out to the nearest drugstore.
Then he pulled his shirt off over his head, grabbed the soap, and stepped
into the tub.  Moistening the soap, he left the faucet running and
reclined in the tub.  After working up a good lather on his hands, he set
to work.  Masturbating in the tub had definite advantages.  Not only was
it a place where nudity was comfortable, but cleaning up was a simple
matter of switching on the shower.  And one had little worry of being
caught or disturbed...

     Following him had been ridiculously simple.  She'd considered casting
a glamour to conceal herself, but realised that he was not even
considering the idea that anybody might be behind him.  She allowed a
slight raise in her estimate of his intelligence when he drove to a motel
instead of going home.  Then again, the intelligence of somebody who
could devise such a devilish formula could not be questioned.  Only their
ethics.
     She took note of which room he entered, then sat and thought.
Vengeance was her goal, but what form should it take?  She started to
cross her arms and put a finger to her lips in an accustomed posture of
thoughtfulness, but her chest got in the way.  She grimaced at the
offending mammaries, and decided that her next order of business would be
to find a method of reversing what he had done to her.  And not just to
her!  Of course, she would not reverse it all the way.  Just to a more
reasonable dimension...
     Inspiration struck, and she grinned.  Perfect!  Justice so poetic,
the Mikado's Lord High Executioner would be proud!  If she could do it...
     She got out of her car and snuck to the door of his room, and put her
ear to it.  Through the double layer of thin plywood, she heard the faint
sound of water running.  Stealing around the building, she figured out
which frosted window was to the correct bathroom, and risked a peek
inside.  Yes, there he was, soaping up his hands, for what purpose she
could easily guess, from his red, hardened penis.
     She ducked out of sight devising a bit of improvisational magery which
she hoped would do the trick.  It would mean linking to his mind, which
revolted her.  But if her spell worked, his discomfort would more than
make up for hers.

     He ran one hand up and down the length of his erection, occasionally
teasing the nerve cluster at its tip.  When he felt himself start to get
too close, he paused and grasped his penis at the base until the
throbbing stopped.  No sense in rushing things.  His eyes were shut as he
concentrated, replaying over and over in his mind the scene in cooking
class... blouses and shirts distending and tearing as the globes
underneath grew and billowed... the expressions of confusion and horror,
replaced in some cases by looks of pleasure and ecstasy... the sheen of
spraying water, making them grow even more...
     He couldn't hold back any more, didn't want to.  It didn't take much,
just a few quick, long strokes, and he was rewarded with sweet spasms
which jolted from his penis up his belly and down his thighs.  Even his
nipples tingled in reaction.  Oh, this was a GOOD one!
     But he gradually realised something was wrong.  He knew he had orgasmed,
but he felt no spray of semen from his erection, no accidental splatters on
his belly or legs.  He blinked, opening his eyes in confusion, and looked
down at himself.  No, there were no blotches of the sticky, white stuff
to be seen.  And his penis was relaxing much faster than it normally did,
wrinkling and shrinking.  What the hell?
     His balls tightened and drew up, as if they were cold.  But wait,
they weren't stopping!  He reached down, realising at the same time that
his penis hadn't stopped shrinking either.  Now it was smaller than it
usually was when relaxed, and getting smaller all the time!  He tightened
his hand around it, but felt it slip inexorably from his soapy grasp,
drawing up inside of him, along with his balls.  He examined himself
frantically with his hands, but only found a long, narrow crease, like a
girl's vagina.  He reached inside, and jerked in reaction.  It felt like
he'd reached >inside< his penis, at once pleasant and disturbing.  What
the HELL?
     His nipples were still tingling.  He reached up to make sure that they
were still where they belonged.  His fingers only lightly brushed them,
but shudders of pleasure jumped from the hard nubbins, seemingly straight
down to his... where his penis should have been.  He bucked and jerked,
gritting his teeth.  "Godddd!"  It was an orgasm, but like none he'd ever
felt before.  Correction:  it was like the one he'd had only a few
seconds ago, intense and alien.  His fingers clenched over his tingling
nipples, and he felt something even more strange an unexpected:  a
tightening, a... swelling?
     He squeezed his man's breasts, and tried to deny what his hands told
him:  there was more softness there than there used to be!  He opened his
hands, staring down at the two shallow mounds of flesh which shouldn't
have been there.  He said it aloud this time:  "What the HELL?"
     Then they started growing.  Fast.  Twin pillows of soft, resilient
flesh swelled and spilled onto his hands.  He clenched his fingers
slightly in reflex, and more pulses of pleasure shuddered through the
breasts... his breasts... making them jiggle.  The nipples, also growing
larger and darker, stayed hard and tingling.
     Panicking, he tried to stand up, get out of the tub.  But his balance
was off, both by his new and growing endowments and the awkward position
of his hands holding them up.  The soap, laying where he'd dropped it on
the floor of the tub, aided in his downfall.  His naked rear slapped
painfully against the hard fibreglas basin.  The vibration traveled
upward, through his expanding chest.  He shifted his grip, and his
fingers clenched directly on his hard nipples.  "Aggh!" he cried out as
another orgasm fired his nerves.
     Seemingly in response, his breasts seemed to grow even faster.  He
estimated himself to be somewhere around a 36D now, and he wasn't slowing
down.  How could this be happening?  He was blowing up as fast as the
girls in cooking class!  But he hadn't had any of his formula, and it
wouldn't work on guys, anyway!
     His hands could no longer encompass his breasts, as pillowy flesh
began to spill over his fingers.  He let go of them and they fell onto
his ribs and belly.  The skin at the top and sides stretched painfully as
they landed, and he bent forward.  "Oww!"  He drew his legs up in reflex,
and felt them still expanding, billowing up to fill the space between his
torso and thighs.
     He leaned back against the tub, laying his legs straight, and
watched in morbid fascination as the pink globes, now the size of
volleyballs, fell to either side of his ribcage and continued to swell.
The cool surface of the tub touched the outside of both breasts, and he
gasped because it felt good.  He reached up to cup them, but could only
manage to slide his hands up alongside them, pressing them together.  He
reached outward to the inch-long hard nipples, and pinched them.  He was
rewarded with still another orgasm, upon which they redoubled their growth.
In scarcely the blink of an eye they filled up the width of the tub and
reached down to his groin, easily the size of beachballs.
     And still they didn't stop!  The confines of the tub pressed the
breasts tightly together, and it began to grow uncomfortable.  Also, they
were beginning to press on his lap and thighs.  It felt like he held a
huge balloon on his lap, which was being continuously run full of warm water.
     "The water!"  Perhaps that was making him blow up!  Had he somehow
gotten some of his own formula after all?  He couldn't take the chance.
He tried to lever himself up, to reach the faucet.  His breasts jiggled
as they lifted clear of the lip of the tub, and pressed against the wall
and the frosted glass tub doors.  He had no chance of reaching the faucet
this way.  If he turned sideways...
     Grabbing his humongous breasts with both hands, he squeezed them,
trying to compact them as much as he could, while twisting his legs and
torso sideways.  Another orgasm shot through him, almost making him lose
his balance and fall again, but he managed to turn sideways.  Now his
nipples were pressed against the tub doors, and the sensation as they
were shoved ever more inward by his chest's unabated growth was nearly
unbearable.  He reached down with his left hand, straining for the
faucet.  His action pulled his breasts, making them slide across the
glass only an inch.  Even that was enough to trigger another orgasm.  He
cried out, as much in horror as pleasure, and slapped the faucet.  Thank
God, this motel used the single-valve design!
     But the latest orgasm had its effect, as well.  His eyes bugged as
his head snapped forward at the sound of glass creaking.  His back was
pressed up against the tile wall of the tub, and his breasts, now fully
half his own height, pressed inexorably against the tub door.  The doors
groaned, and the glass bulged outward.  A fresh fear rose in him.  If the
glass broke, his chest would be sliced to ribbons!
     Fortunately, shoddy construction came to his rescue.  The flimsy
aluminum frame which held the doors in place gave way before the glass
did.  The entire frame, doors and all, screeched and fell outward.  The
glass doors shattered into millions of tiny fragments, as they were
designed to do.  Relieved of their constriction, his breasts also seemed
to explode outward, each the size of a beanbag chair.
     Gravity took control, grabbing his breasts and dragging them down.
He had no choice but to go along for the ride.  He bounced on his huge
globes, but the bathroom was too narrow to allow him to roll over on his
back.  This was fortunate, for if he had rolled over, the less resilient
skin on his back was sure to have been lacerated by the glass which
littered the floor.  Not only that, he might well have asphyxiated under
his expanding mammaries.  But, most maddening, the impact triggered yet
another orgasm!
     He lay atop the swelling breasts, now squeezed between the bathroom wall
and the sink.  He seemed to feel every irregularity, every flat surface
and corner, in his titanic tits.  When would they stop?  His feet were
already off the floor, and he lay almost fully atop the great fleshy
pillows that were part of him.  Would they stop?  Or would they continue
growing until they pressed him against the ceiling?  Was he doomed to
suffocate against his own chest?  In idle moments, he had whimsically
considered that if he were ever disposed toward suicide, suffocating
between large breasts would be an ideal way to go.  But he never
envisioned THIS!
     He felt the huge things beneath him take on the load of his feet,
and press against the edge of the tub.  His arms lay to either side of
him, nearly flat.  He felt the ceiling approach, and a curious feeling
stole over him:  resignation.  He was going to die, he was certain of
it.  Nothing seemed to matter.  It was a curiously peaceful feeling.
There were no questions, no curiosity left.
     No, there was one thing.  It was strange and new, but he knew what
it was as soon as he was aware of it.  It was regret.  Now, in the last
moments of his life, he was sorry he'd done what he had in class that
day.  How stupid he'd been!  He'd perfected a formula which would do away
with expensive, risky surgery, producing figures which only screamed their
artifice.  He could have given thousands of women their dream come true.
He could have been rich, powerful, and could have probably even found
women who would gladly undergo what he had forced on his classmates.  And
what had he done?  Pissed it away, on a childish, voyeuristic, obscene
prank!  If only --
     Suddenly he felt a surge in his groin.  Something -- his penis? --
pushed out between his thighs, hard and hot.  Excruciating pressure built
in his bladder, and suddenly released.  No mere urination, this!  Fluid
sprayed under him, splashing outward to either side under his legs,
behind him, and seeped up between his belly and the huge things under him.
     This final indignity was too much.  Not only was he to be found dead
in a freakish and ridiculous state, but he would be stinking of his own
waste, as well!  He felt his back brush the ceiling...
     And move away.
     At first he couldn't believe it.  But after a few seconds he
realised it was true.  As fluid, strangely free of uric odor, continued
to gush from him,  he was lowering!  His breasts were shrinking!  He
wasn't going to die!
     "YES!"  He was exultant, and impatient.  He didn't have to wait
long.   The contraction was as rapid as the expansion had been.  As soon
as he was able, he stood up, wincing as a few kernels of safety glass
pressed into his feet, and tried to aim his stream into the toilet.  It
was awkward, because his breasts were still too large to actually see
either the toilet bowl or his penis.  He had to aim by sound, and guess.
     In a few seconds, he could see the toilet bowl, and found he had guessed
right.  He also saw, however, that the gurgling toilet was unable to keep
up with the volume of fluid he was spraying.  The bowl ran over, and
liquid stood nearly a quarter-inch deep on the floor.
     Finally, the deluge abated and stopped.  His penis hung, limp and
the same size it had always been, between his legs.  He frowned and tried
to prod his bladder into producing more, because other things were still
not back to normal.  On his chest still sat two high, round, large
breasts, size around 38DD.  "Come on, come on," he murmured, shaking
himself gently.
     "That's the best you can hope for," said a voice from the bathroom
window.
     Panic jolted through him, and he spun to face the voice.  The extra
weight of his chest threw him off-balance, and the slick tile sent him to
a butt-bruising impact for a second time.  He looked up, grabbing his
breasts to stop their bouncing (Thank God they weren't so supersensitive
anymore!), eyes wide at the face in the window.  "You!"  His voice was
cracked, and the single pronoun was all he could manage.
     She smiled down at him, unable to keep all of the smugness from the
expression.  "Consider them a reminder, the next time you think about
playing God with other people's bodies.  Now, do you think you can
concoct an antidote to the stuff you fed us today?"
     He thought, and shook his head sadly.  "I don't know if I can."
     "Well, I think then the best thing for you to do is simply
disappear.  If you show your face around school again, I think people
will have to stand in line for a chance at you."
     Sudden curiosity gnawed at him.  "How did you do this?"  He
indicated the breasts which sat so proudly on his chest.
     She smiled again.  "`There are more things in heaven and earth,
Horatio...'  Just remember that the next time you decide to play God,
too.  You may not be the only deity on the block."
     Then her face was gone from the window.

     She squirmed as she settled into the driver's seat of her car, and
sighed, laying her head back for a few moments.  Her head felt light, and
she concentrated on breathing to restore herself.  She felt new weight on
her chest as she inhaled and exhaled, and after a few moments, opened her
eyes and looked down at her chest.
     Her sweater was even more distended than when she'd arrived; she
estimated her bust was larger than his new one, probably a 40DD.  More
annoying was the wet patch in her panties.  She shook her head.  She'd
done her best to block feedback from the link, but her control wasn't
perfect yet.
     Starting and steering the car was awkward with her chest in the way,
but she was too tired now to do anything about it.  She wasn't worried.
She was confident now in her ability to effect and reverse the kind of
changes she'd done.  After going home and having a rest and a meal, she'd
see about bringing herself back down to a more reasonable size.  Then
she'd see about doing the same for the rest of the girls in the class,
secretly of course.  Revealing herself to him as she had went against the
family's code of discretion, but she doubted it would come back to haunt
her.  He would undoubtedly have larger things on his mind for awhile...