FIVE PERCENT by Nadie   The sounds of the ocean drifted in through the night air as Jim Biddings and his wife

FIVE PERCENT by Nadie   The sounds of the ocean drifted in through the night air as Jim Biddings and his wife

FIVE PERCENT

by Nadie

The sounds of the ocean drifted in through the night air as Jim Biddings and his

wife, Rosemary, relaxed in their hotel room. Or rather, she relaxed and he tried

to. It was the first day of a much-needed month-long vacation, and already

something had gone wrong. Prior to the trip, Jim had made arrangements to ensure

that they would get the best-located room in the hotel. After carefully going

over the hotel plan, he had chosen it as having the best balance between view of

the ocean and convenient access to hotel services. But somebody in the hotel

staff had screwed up, and given the room to someone else. So now they were in a

clearly sub-optimal location, five rooms away from the spot he had picked.

At least he had his weekly murder mystery. It was one of the few television

shows he really liked, and, Hawaiian vacation or no, he was going to watch it.

He enjoyed seeing if he could figure out whodunnit before the characters on the

screen did. He thought he had this one just about figured out, but there were

still a few pieces of the puzzle he couldn't put together. He was listening

intently as the characters discussed the latest clues, when suddenly he was

distracted by something wet and warm in his ear.

He jerked back as if poked with a needle, and looked at Rosemary. She was

running her tongue over her lips and raising her eyebrows with her best "come

hither" look. It could have been arousing on another woman. On her he found it

faintly absurd. He glanced back at the television, but he had missed the crucial

revelation. Damn! She always picked the worst possible time for these games.

"Why don't we find something more... entertaining to do?" she cooed.

Jim glanced at the television again, then sighed within himself. He wasn't going

to be able to enjoy this program now, anyway. It was ruined. Without those few

crucial seconds he had missed, he was going to be playing catch-up for the rest

of the program. "Sure, honey," he said, trying to smile as he said it. If he

didn't give her what she wanted now, she would continue to pester him until he

did.

He sat on the edge of the bed and took off his shoes and socks, as Rosemary

rummaged through her luggage for something. She took out some candles, an

incense burner, a book, and a few other odds and ends. The book was quite old.

Rosemary lit the candles and the incense. She opened the book, studied it a

moment, then began drawing some kind of a pattern on the carpet.

"What are you doing?" Jim yelped. "They'll charge us an arm and a leg to fix

that carpet!"

"Relax," Rosemary replied. "It's just chalk. A vacuum cleaner will pick it up."

"What is all this... stuff... about anyway?" This was beginning to look like

some of the New Age nonsense that Rosemary obsessed about. Or that ancient

Celtic stuff she was into.

Rosemary smiled coyly. "You'll see. You're going to like this. Just take your

clothes off, then watch."

Jim dutifully took off his clothes, then sat on the edge of the bed to watch

her. She stood in the center of the pattern she had drawn and began to sing

softly. He could hear the words clearly, but couldn't understand them; they

seemed to be in some foreign language. Then she began to rock back and forth as

she sang, swinging her hips. Slowly, a bit at a time, she began to remove her

clothes as she danced.

Jim suddenly realized that this was meant to be an erotic dance. So that's what

she was up to. She was trying to get him in the mood. And if she were thirty

pounds lighter or so, it would have worked.

Look at her, and look at me, he thought. He prided himself on his youthful looks

and solid build. Although 40 years old, people often mistook him for 30. At 6

feet even he was comfortably tall, and every inch of him was covered with solid

muscle. It wasn't hard to figure out why Rosemary wanted to get him in bed. It

was harder to figure out what had happened to her. Though 39 years old, she

looked 45. And his cute, pert bride -- 5 foot 2 inches of lithe, supple woman --

had ballooned out to 160 pounds. Over the years he had warned her that she

needed to control her eating habits, that she was just going to get fatter and

fatter if she didn't. But she never listened to him. She never listened to any

of his helpful suggestions on how she could improve her appearance.

He suddenly realized that she had stopped her dance. In fact, he had the

impression she had stopped some time ago. Rosemary stood naked before him, one

tear trickling down her face. "You weren't paying any attention at all to me.

You didn't even see me here in front of you," she whispered.

"Of course I saw you; as big as you are, how could anyone possibly miss you?" he

snapped. The words escaped without thought, and although he hadn't meant to be

so harsh, he decided they were words she needed to hear. Rosemary's eyes went

wide, then she grabbed a bathrobe and ran to the bathroom, sobbing.

The sound of her crying was like a jackhammer to his head. He couldn't take this

anymore. He couldn't hide his distaste for her bloated body. He had to leave. He

put his shoes back on, put on a light jacket, and walked out into the night.

He found the car and drove around for a while, wondering what to do. Finally, he

pulled into a cheap motel far from the beach, and rented a room. In another

twenty minutes he was lying in bed, tossing fitfully. How he yearned to have

back the thin, pretty young woman he had married. It wasn't fair. He had kept

himself in good shape, but she had let herself go to pieces. "What I wouldn't do

to have my slender, young, beautiful wife again," he whispered. "I'd do just

about anything." And with that thought rolling around his mind, he finally

drifted off to sleep.

# # #

"Good morning," a sultry feminine voice said. He smiled. Rosemary used to have a

sexy voice like that. She used to be able to get him hard just whispering

naughty things in his ear. But that was fifteen years ago.

Suddenly Jim remembered where he was. His eyes popped open and he sat up. There

before him, wearing nothing but skin, was an achingly beautiful woman.

Blue-black hair cascaded down to her waist. Her skin was a delightful coffee

color, a perfect shade of brown that he had only seen once or twice before in

his life, smooth and without blemish. Her figure had amazingly deep curves in

all the right places. Her breasts were enormous twin mounds that seemed to float

weightlessly. He found that he was holding his breath, afraid that she would

disappear if he made any movement.

She walked -- no, she undulated -- over to him and took his right hand. She slid

a curious silvery ring onto his ring finger, then kissed his hand. The touch of

her full, warm lips on his skin sent electric quivers through his body. Then she

spoke.

"I am granting your wish. This ring contains powerful magic. With it you can

transform Rosemary into the woman you truly desire. If you are willing to pay

the price."

He was speechless for a moment. "What price?" he finally blurted out.

"The ring is activated by pressing this jewel." She indicated a small, green

stone on the ring. "You must then imagine how you wish to change Rosemary. Each

separate use of the ring can effect only a limited transformation. If your

request is within the limits, this jewel will glow." She indicated a yellow

stone next to the green one. "The transformation will take effect when you press

the glowing jewel. The price will be exacted from you automatically." She turned

to leave.

"What price?" he repeated. "What is the price I must pay?"

The woman looked back over her shoulder. "Five percent," she said. Then she

faded from sight.

Jim rubbed his eyes and looked at the spot where the woman had been. Was this

how a mental breakdown started? You start hallucinating fantasies? But then he

realized what was happening. He must have awakened just as a rather pleasantly

erotic dream came to an end. Perhaps he sat up in his sleep, and that had

wakened him. Feeling reassured, he got out of bed.

There was the silvery ring on his hand, with the two colored gems. He felt it.

It seemed real. He tried to take it off, but it seemed stuck. Worried, he tugged

harder. It didn't seem to be on tight at all, but it absolutely refused to come

off. Finally he gave up and left it where it was.

After showering and dressing, he got in the car and headed back to the hotel. He

was filled with both dread and anticipation. Dread at having to face Rosemary

after last night's spat. Anticipation at the thought of... no, that was silly.

Rosemary's New Age nonsense was getting to him. She might believe in all manner

of mysticism, but he was a thoroughly rational man. Nevertheless, his thoughts

kept drifting back to the ring, the woman, and what she had told him. "I am

granting your wish." He tried to concentrate on driving. The last thing he

needed now was to get into an accident because he was daydreaming. But he could

not shake from his mind the image of the mysterious, beautiful woman, the feel

of her lips on his skin, nor the succulent sound of her voice as she promised to

grant his wish.

He parked the car and made his way to their hotel room. Just outside the door he

stopped, fingering the ring. He felt pretty foolish about all this. It was

probably all some elaborate practical joke someone was playing on him. But he

had to give it a try. He pressed the green stone, then imagined Rosemary the way

she had been when they married. He felt an anticipatory tingling in his groin at

the thought. Then he looked at the ring. The yellow stone was definitely NOT

glowing.

He damned himself for a fool. Of course it wasn't glowing. There was no such

thing as magic. He felt the heat of embarrassment rise in his cheeks.

But wait a minute. The woman had said that each use of the ring could only make

a limited change. All right, he would experiment a bit more before giving up.

The thing that most bothered him was Rosemary's obesity, so he would imagine her

thin again, but otherwise unchanged. Still the ring remained inert. Okay, how

about not so fat? He tried imagining her in various degrees of slimness. The

yellow stone finally glowed when he imagined an almost imperceptible thinning.

This was no good. At this rate he'd have to use the ring dozens of times to get

her thin again. Was he missing something? Suddenly an old joke popped into his

head. "I'm not overweight," the joke went. "I'm just undertall." He tried

imagining her as having the same overall size and weight, but stretched out, so

she was taller and thinner. The yellow stone glowed. With growing excitement, he

stretched her out more in his mind. His mental image of her grew taller and

thinner, and the stone continued to glow. Finally, in his imagination she stood

eye-to-eye with him, and her weight was perfect. She was neither bony nor pudgy.

He reached to press the glowing yellow stone.

He hesitated with his finger just above the stone. What about the price? What

did "five percent" mean? Five percent of his wealth? He would pay that gladly.

He pressed the stone, and heard a soft click.

The world seemed to go out of focus for a moment, then all was back to normal.

But not quite. Something was... odd. He couldn't quite place it. Or maybe he was

just nervous. With mounting excitement, he took out his room key and put it in

the lock. Only he missed, hitting the door knob just below the keyhole. Calm

down, boy, he told himself. His hands were shaking a bit as he carefully

inserted the key into the lock. He opened the door and stepped inside.

"Rosemary?" he called.

"Did you find your newspaper?" she called from the bathroom. His heart was

pounding. Her voice was sweet and sultry, like when they were newlyweds. Though

come to think of it... it had always been like that, hadn't it? It just hadn't

seemed sexy coming from a fat woman. He heard her walk across the bathroom to

the door, and he was certain he could hear a difference in her step -- these

were the steps of a woman with long, slender legs. His pants were feeling tight.

Then she emerged from the bathroom, and it was true! She was tall and thin.

Sure, she still looked 45 years old, but it was a slender 45. She glanced down

at his crotch, then smiled slyly. "My, my, you couldn't even stay away from me

long enough to get your paper." She approached him slowly, her hips rocking back

and forth.

To his surprise, Jim found that he was looking up into her face as she slid her

arms around him, even though she was wearing flats. Her lips were about

eye-level to him when he looked straight ahead. She lowered her mouth to his and

gave him a slow, passionate kiss that set his ears burning. Then she turned away

and, holding his hand, walked to the bed. He followed willingly. He could figure

out this height thing later.

# # #

Jim lay on the bed next to Rosemary, luxuriating in a feeling of contentment

that he hadn't experienced in years. This time his wife's strip-tease had been

worth watching. And it had only gotten better after that. Spent after two hours

of fun and games, he simply lay there slowly running his hands up and down her

marvelous new body. It was so nice and firm to the touch. And those legs! They

seemed to go on forever. He had never thought tall women particularly

interesting before, but that had changed in the last two hours.

Rosemary hadn't said anything about her transformation, nor about their upset

the previous night. He decided to ask her about the former. "Tell me, honey," he

said. "What do you think of the new you?"

She frowned in puzzlement. "The new me? What are you talking about?"

"You haven't noticed anything... odd, or unusual?"

"Well sure, it was a little odd to have you go out to get the morning paper,

then suddenly forget about that and run back to jump in the sack with me," she

grinned. "But it's the kind of odd a woman could get used to." After more

conversation he could find no evidence that she remembered last night's fight,

either.

When Rosemary left to make some purchases at the hotel's gift shop, Jim stayed

in the room to check out a few things. First he marked his height on the wall

and measured it. He stared at the numbers for a long time. He was about 5 feet,

8-1/2 inches. 3-1/2 inches shorter than his own previous height and his wife's

present height. "Five percent." The words echoed in his mind. He did a quick

mental calculation. 6 feet was 72 inches, and five percent of that was... 3.6

inches.

He checked himself in the mirror. He looked the same as before in every way that

he could see. He still had the same youthful looks and solid build. His

proportions hadn't changed noticeably. He weighed himself on the bathroom scale,

then got out a calculator. Yes, his present weight was 0.95 times 0.95 times

0.95 times his previous weight. So that was it. He had been reduced by five

percent in every dimension. That was the price.

Poking around in the closet, he made another discovery. All of his wife's

clothes were different. They were all appropriate to her new figure, not her

old. And her shoes... they were bigger, too. They all had flat heels, with the

exception of one pair that didn't look like it had been used much.

On a hunch, he pulled out his drivers license. It said he was 5 foot 9. A slight

exaggeration. Rosemary had brought their wedding album -- she had always been

the sentimental sort, and had wanted this vacation to be a sort of second

honeymoon -- and Jim thumbed through the pictures. She stood quite a bit taller

than him in all the pictures. He remembered that she had insisted on wearing

high heels that day. "This is a special, unique moment in a woman's life," she

had explained. "It's my time in the spotlight, and I want to look my best." And

she did. She was absolutely stunning in her close-fitting bridal gown and

five-inch heels, though he felt a bit intimidated by the way she towered over

him.

Wait a minute! What was going on? Rosemary had been a petite 5 foot 2 when they

married. It was just now that she had changed. And yet the memories of her

towering over him as they danced at the wedding reception were clear. He

remembered looking up, not down, into her eyes as he asked her to marry him.

He flipped back through another photo album with pictures from their courtship.

Rosemary had been a gymnast in college, before they were married. And he had

taken pictures of her in practice and in competition. Gymnastics was not a sport

for tall women. She couldn't possibly be tall in those pictures.

There were no pictures of Rosemary doing gymnastics. But there was something

else. He stared. The pictures showed Rosemary playing women's basketball. Slowly

he closed the photo album and put it away.

This was getting scary. What was happening to him? He felt that his grip on

reality was slipping. Where had he ever gotten the notion that he was ten inches

taller than Rosemary when they married? For a few minutes there he had been

certain of it. But the truth was that he had always been shorter than her, from

the first day they met. Sure, he had often wished he was taller than her. But

when had he started confusing fantasy and reality?

He found the whole episode quite disturbing. The best thing to do, perhaps, was

to just to put it aside and forget about his daydreams of being tall. He

resolved to do that.

# # #

She looked ten years older than him. At least.

Jim frowned at the couple dining at the table next over, then glanced back at

Rosemary. The other woman had smooth, unblemished skin, and eyes that danced.

Rosemary's eyes displayed prominent crow's feet, and the rest of her face looked

severe and weatherbeaten compared to that of the other woman. Streaks of grey

were all through Rosemary's hair. The woman's husband was at least as old as

Jim, but his wife looked a good 15 or 20 years younger than Rosemary. All

through dinner he found himself comparing the two.

Later that night, as he was brushing his teeth, Rosemary walked into the

bathroom wearing a semitransparent nightgown with nothing underneath. She

smiled. "Isn't it your bedtime?" she asked, arching one eyebrow.

He smiled back, although it was a little forced. "I'll be right with you. Warm

up the bed, why don't you?" She nodded, blew him a kiss, and returned to the

bedroom.

He looked at the ring on his right hand. His memory of how he had got it was a

bit vague, like a pleasant dream. If it weren't for the physical evidence of the

ring on his finger, he would probably have decided that the stunning woman who

had put it there was just a wet dream. The image of her filled his mind. There

hadn't been a wrinkle or harsh spot on that face, not a gray hair on that head.

Maybe Rosemary could be that young again. If he was willing to pay the price.

Five percent. That would bring his height to... five-foot five. About 3-1/2

inches shorter than his present height. That might not be too much to pay to

have a young wife again. He had been thinking about using the ring ever since he

had received it; maybe now was the time to gather his courage and just do it.

He made up his mind. He pressed the green stone, and began imagining a younger

Rosemary. The yellow stone glowed. He rolled the years back, until she looked

barely old enough to be entering college. Still it glowed. This was the Rosemary

he had first met, vibrant with youth and optimism.

How much further could he take this? She was pretty, there was no doubt of that.

Could she be beautiful, jaw-dropping, achingly beautiful, like his mystery

woman? He tried to imagine it, and suddenly the yellow stone winked out. He

returned to the earlier image, and the stone glowed again. All right, so young

and pretty would have to be enough. He pressed the yellow stone.

The world blurred, then resolidified. He looked about him. Had there been a

change? Maybe. He walked to the bedroom.

She arose from the bed and met him near the door. The light from the bathroom

spilled over her face and drew a small gasp from him. It was true! Her face

shone with youth and health. Her skin was smooth and silky. Her hands... they

slipped behind his head and she pressed his face into her body. Her shoulders

were just below eye-level to him, and his lips touched the soft skin above her

breasts. He twisted his head to look up into that radiantly youthful face, and

she flashed a brilliant smile at him. She held him tightly for a moment, then

leaned him backwards as she bent over to kiss him.

When she was done she said, "You wear too many clothes," and began stripping

him. Her hands were quick and eager, and surprisingly strong, as she pulled the

clothes off of him. Bemused, he neither cooperated nor resisted. Then she took

both of his hands in hers and led him to the bed.

Afterwards, he was some time in catching his breath. She was so energetic now!

It had been like a combination wrestling match and contortionist act. He hadn't

felt so alive in years.

He let his hand run over her lithesome figuring, exploring the curves of her

body. She giggled as his hand approached her crotch and gently but firmly pushed

it away. "It's been a long, exciting day. Much as I'd like to go another round

with you, I really do need some sleep."

Jim was still awake after she had fallen asleep. Just what had changed? He got

up and pulled out the wedding album, taking it to the bathroom to look at it

there. He examined the pictures closely. They both looked about the same as they

looked now. But he had been much younger when they married, hadn't he? He picked

up the photo album, and a paper fell out. He picked it up. It was their wedding

certificate. It was dated seven months ago.

Seven months? But they had been married sixteen years! Wait, no that was

ridiculous, she would have been only three back then... He was confused. Was

Rosemary 19 years old or 39 years old? He found her purse and pulled out her

driver's license. He found the birth date given on it. Yes, she was 19. They had

met a year ago, just as she was starting college; she had been playing women's

basketball and he happened to attend one of the games. It had been something of

a whirlwind romance, and they had married within a few months. Once this

Hawaiian Christmas vacation was over she would be going back to classes,

studying business.

Satisfied that the world was right again, he returned to bed.

# # #

Jim had a hard time pulling his eyes off the woman as she walked past.

Fortunately, Rosemary wasn't there to see him goggling. The woman was wearing a

bikini that she didn't quite fit into. Or at least, her bust didn't quite fit

into it. His eyes were riveted to her magnificent bosom as she moved on down the

beach. Finally she passed behind the restrooms, and he couldn't see her anymore.

He turned his gaze back out to the ocean and sighed. He wished Rosemary could

fill a bikini like that. She was young, and thin, and pretty... but her cups

didn't exactly overflow. Her breasts were... cute; pretty; nice.

He wanted more.

For fifteen minutes he lay there in the sun, watching the waves, watching the

seagulls, watching the children making sandcastles, looking anyplace except the

one place he was afraid to look. Finally he checked the time -- and cursed his

quirks. He kept his watch on his right arm, rather than the left, on the inside

of his wrist. Just a few inches up from the watch, on one finger, was the thing

he had been avoiding. The silvery ring.

He was going to get rid of it. He was going to throw it into the ocean and

forget about it forever. He was already on the short side, and he didn't want to

be any shorter. He tugged at the ring. It stayed firmly in place. He tugged some

more, until the skin hurt, but still it would not budge. Involuntarily, an image

of Rosemary with large, ample breasts sprang into his mind. Oh, hell, even if

they were THIS large -- he imagined a somewhat smaller bust that was still

significantly larger than what she had -- he would be happy. But he had to put

that out of his mind. He grabbed the ring and tugged again. Too late, he noticed

something.

The yellow stone was glowing. And his finger was pressing it.

There was a soft click. The world blurred, then refocused. He slapped his

forehead. Of all the stupid moves... How had the ring been activated in the

first place? He guessed that he must have accidentally pressed the green stone

when he first tried to remove the ring.

So now he had shrunk by five percent. That would leave him just an inch and a

half past the five-foot mark. He had never thought of himself as a small man

before -- just a little on the short side, was all -- but now that was the only

word for it. He was SMALL.

He stood up. At least he still had his muscular build. Suddenly he was knocked

to the ground. Brushing sand out of his face, he looked up. Five or six teenage

girls clustered around him. "I'm sorry," one of them said, holding out her hand

to help him up.

He refused her hand, and stood up himself. She couldn't be more than sixteen,

yet she stood a good seven or eight inches higher than him. He glanced around.

None of the girls looked older than sixteen. And he was shorter than every one

of them.

"Here, let me brush that sand off of you," said the girl. Before he could

object, she was moving her hands over him, brushing at bits of sand that were

mostly imaginary. "There, all done," she said, patting his bottom and squeezing

it for just an instant. Then she ran away giggling with her friends.

Jim watched them go, face red with embarrassment. Well, at least there was a

positive side to all this. Rosemary's bust line should have swelled out nicely.

He decided to head back to their hotel room to see if she was back from her

shopping trip yet.

He was just about to put the key in the door when he paused. There was some

noise coming from inside. Some of it was giggling. Some of it was...panting. And

then a deep bass voice murmuring something.

Teeth clenched grimly, Jim unlocked the door and threw it open. Rosemary was

naked on the bed, intertwined with a naked man Jim did not know. A very big man.

"Get... out!" he shouted. Rosemary froze, then blushed guiltily as she saw him

standing there. The big man casually rolled to one side and looked up at Jim

without breaking much of his contact with Rosemary's body.

"You must be Jim," the man said. "Rosemary's told me about you. Don't worry, she

still likes you. You're a nice appetizer, so to speak. But she wanted to have

the main course for once."

"You'd better go," Rosemary murmured to the man.

He shrugged, and got up. With elaborate casualness he slowly dressed himself.

"See you again sometime," he called over his shoulder to Rosemary as he left the

room.

Jim's teeth ached, his jaws were clenched so tight. He slammed the door shut

behind him, and stomped over to the bed. Rosemary lay there, looking both

simultaneously embarrassed, a bit guilty, and irritated.

"I'm sorry, Jim," she said. "You were always such a charming romancer, you swept

me off my feet when we met -- so to speak -- but I think," and here she paused

and chose her words carefully, "I think we were a bit hasty in getting married."

His eyes widened, and she hurriedly continued. "You're a wonderful man, and I

love you dearly, but... How do I say this? You're small. I didn't think that

would bother me at first, and it didn't. But as time passed, I came to realize

that what I really want, what I NEED, is someone bigger than me, someone who can

make me feel protected."

Jim's face, ears and neck were hot and red, and it wasn't from sunburn. His eyes

caught on her breasts. She was lying there naked, and her breasts rose up

beautifully from her chest. He longed to touch them.

He was going to touch them. He pulled off his shirt with one fluid motion, then

clambered onto the bed and atop of Rosemary. He pushed her arms out of the way

and thrust his face into her bosom.

"Stop it, Jim! Get off of me!" Her voice was no longer apologetic; it was angry.

"That does it!"

The world spun round, and he was flat on his back with Rosemary above him. She

grabbed his arms and pinned them above his head. She held his legs pinned

beneath her body. "I'm going to hold you here until you calm yourself down," she

said.

He twisted and strained, but he could not break loose of her grip. Her wonderful

breasts hung down as she leaned over him, and the sight intoxicated him. It was

torture, to have her displayed for him like this, and know that he could not

have her, that he had lost her. He wanted those breasts. He wanted that body. He

wanted her to want him.

The solution was suddenly obvious. Even with his hands pinned over his head, his

left hand could still reach the ring on his right. He felt for the green stone,

and pressed it. Then he imagined how he wanted her to be. Consumed with desire

for his body. Filled with a raging, wild lust for him and him only. Desperate

for a sexual release that only he could provide.

He couldn't see if the yellow stone was glowing, but he pressed it anyway. The

world blurred, then refocused.

Rosemary let out a long, low groan, then lowered herself down on top of him. She

pressed her breasts into his face, and stretched her body out over him, her feet

reaching just past his feet. She began moving back and forth, with each movement

bearing down on his face with her breasts and moaning with pleasure. Still using

one hand to keep his arms pinned above his head, she reached down with the other

hand and squeezed his jaw. "Open your mouth," she commanded. He did so, and

immediately she inserted one breast into it and pushed down hard, pushing as

much of it into his mouth as she could. "Suck," was all she said.

After she was done with him, Jim lay by her side, feeling a bit sore and

overwhelmed, but very content. He just hoped she would let him go back to work

when the vacation was over.

# # #

The door to their room swung inward, with Jim and Rosemary seemingly attached,

as Jim tried to get the key out of the lock over the interference of Rosemary's

caresses and kisses. Finally he got the key out and closed the door behind them.

They were all dressed up, having gone out for an evening of dining and dancing.

Rosemary had insisted on wearing her five-inch heels. Even without the heels,

Jim was only shoulder-height to her. In bare feet they stood eye-to-nipple, and

Jim could put his arms around her waist without hardly lowering them at all.

With Rosemary in heels now, Jim had to raise his arms to wrap them around her

waist, and the top of his head reached no further than the middle of her bust.

They danced a quiet, slow dance like that, humming the music to each other,

Jim's face against Rosemary's flat, firm belly, the bottoms of her breasts

brushing against his temple. Her arms tightened around him and pressed him into

her body with an irresistible grip. The entire night had been like that, and

although they had attracted more than a few odd looks from people, it had been

heavenly. It had been a long day, though, and he was looking forward to a good

rest.

From the day they first met, their relationship had been hot and intense. At the

time, Jim was dating a petite latin woman (who was nonetheless two inches taller

than he). Out of curiosity, one evening he attended a women's college basketball

game. Rosemary caught him watching her as the game ended, and before he knew it

she was at his side.

"Would you like to go out for a late snack?" she had asked.

"Um, well, I think --"

"Great! Let's go!"

She grabbed his arm and practically dragged him out of the building and over to

her car. "If you don't mind, I'd like to stop by my apartment for a quick shower

and change of clothes first," she said.

When the door closed behind them in her apartment she suddenly grabbed him,

lifted him a foot into the air, and kissed him so hard and passionately that he

thought she was going to take off his face. Her arms wrapped so tightly around

him he could hardly breathe. After a timeless period she opened her eyes, smiled

a mischievous grin at him, walked over to the couch and set him down on it. "I

won't be more than five minutes," she said.

When she emerged from the shower she seemed to shine. She wasn't wearing a

stitch of clothing, not even a ring. She adjusted the sofa, and it folded out

into a bed.

"Uh, you know, I have a girlfriend already," he stammered.

"I know," she replied. "I'm your girlfriend." She sat on his legs, pinning him

to the bed, as she proceeded to take off his shirt.

"Now wait a minute, you can't just --"

"Oh, hush now," she said, then she leaned forward and silenced him with a kiss

as she finished removing his shirt. Then she turned around and sat on his chest

as she removed the shoes, socks and pants. He struggled, but was unable to

escape. She removed his last article of clothing -- his boxer shorts -- and

suddenly froze.

"Oh, my," she said. She turned her head over her shoulder to look at him, eyes

wide. "You're not so little after all." She turned back to stare between his

legs. "That looks like it belongs on a much bigger man." Much to his chagrin, he

found that he had a strong erection. She reached out to touch it. "Tonight it

belongs to me."

They never did go out for that late snack. And he never saw his latin girlfriend

again.

In the morning she drove him over to his apartment so he could dress for work.

Somehow she ended up with a copy of his apartment key. When he returned home

that evening his closets and dresser were empty, as was the bathroom cabinet. A

note was taped to the wall. "I got started moving your stuff into my place. We

can work on it some more this evening."

From that point on, it had been like a wild roller-coaster ride; all he could do

was hold on for dear life. Rosemary was an untamed, irresistable primeval force.

They visited Reno together one weekend. Jim didn't realize they were getting

married until an hour before the ceremony. And yet Jim didn't feel like he was

being pressured into anything he didn't want. He would never have thought that a

tall and attractive woman like Rosemary would be interested in a man as small as

he was. He wasn't about to question his good fortune. And her frank and

uninhibited passion for him intensified his own reactions to her, igniting his

desire for her to almost unbearable levels.

Amazingly enough, after a year Rosemary was still just as hungry for him as

ever. Their evening of dinner and dance had included a several urgent excursions

into the bushes outside the club. And now as they slow danced together in their

living room, her body swaying and sliding against him, her breasts rubbing his

temple, he knew she intended to have him again. He hoped he wouldn't disappoint

her.

She ran her hands over his well-muscled arms and shoulders. He was well-built

for his size. But Rosemary was so much larger than him that she could still

handily overpower him. She lifted him up and began kissing his arms, shoulders

and chest. "My hard little man," she sighed. "There's just one part of you

that's gone soft. Let's see what we can do about that." She carried him to their

room and laid him on the bed.

A frustrating half-hour later, he was still limp. "I'm sorry, honey," he said

miserably. "We've had a busy evening after a busy day. I'm just worn out. And,"

he smiled, "I don't exactly get a lot of sleep, you know."

"No, don't tell me that. You can do it, I know you can." She mounted him and

pressed her groin urgently against his, rocking and swaying and thrusting

frantically, to no avail.

"You're hurting me," he complained.

She yanked him down and slid herself forward, until she crouched with his head

pinned between her legs and his face pressed into her crotch. "Then release me

this way," she demanded.

By the time she was done with him his neck and face were sore, too. He used to

like these kinds of games, but lately they had turned rough and angry as she

vented her frustrations on him. He felt dejected, depressed and demoralized. He

hadn't been able to give her what she wanted and needed tonight. It wasn't the

first time. He had hoped it wouldn't happen during their vacation. And he knew

from experience that as he worried about it, it would just get worse. He was

terribly frightened that she would eventually get so fed up with his

deficiencies that she would leave him.

He rubbed the ring. He hadn't used it yet, and now he was the one who needed

modification. What would it be like to have endless potency, he wondered.

Wouldn't she be delighted if she could summon an erection from him at any...

Wait a minute. Was this a loophole? If SHE could summon an erection from him...

That would be her ability, not his.

He pressed the green stone, and thought of what he wanted. He imagined Rosemary

having the ability to call forth an erection from him at will --- any place, any

time, as often as desired. To his delight, the yellow gem glowed. He pressed it,

and heard a soft click.

The world blurred, then came back into focus. Rosemary loomed over him, a happy

grin on her face. He felt like he had a steel cylinder projecting from between

his legs. "Mr. Eveready is back to work in record time," she remarked. She

lowered herself onto him with a little gasp of pleasure.

At 5:00 a.m. she finally collapsed from exhaustion, falling asleep on top of

him. Jim wondered if he would ever walk again.

# # #

The next time it was her breasts, again. Rosemary had ample breasts, to be sure;

but as he stared at the photo of Dolly Parton gracing the cover of TV guide, Jim

realized that so much more was possible.

But he was a very small man already, barely four-foot eight. He didn't dare use

the ring. Yet he could not erase from his mind the image of Parton's

breath-taking bust. It would only take a few button-pushes, is all...

Rosemary was just about to undress for bed when Jim finally gave in. He imagined

her with breasts even larger than Parton's, and noted with glee that the yellow

gem glowed.

Click.

The world blurred, and when it refocused he was delighted at what he saw. Her

blouse seemed to strain at every seam to contain her bust. He wondered whether

she would be able to finish unbuttoning the blouse before the buttons popped off

by themselves. She smiled as she watched him watching her, and the blouse slid

to the floor. She reached behind her to undo the bra, and pulled it off with one

fluid motion.

Jim watched in dismay as her wonderfully enormous breasts, which had stood so

proudly with the support of her bra, now sagged almost to her waist. He realized

that they were simply too large and heavy to do otherwise. But wait! That could

be fixed! He imagined some interior structural changes, what amounted to an

internal bra lying under her skin, holding and supporting her breasts, so that

they appeared to defy gravity.

Click.

She dropped her skirt and began to walk over to him, a smile playing across her

lips. Her naked breasts were simply stunning. But he realized that behind her

smile there was pain, and she walked with an unattractive stoop. It was clear

that she had serious back problems, evidently from the weight of her breasts.

This wasn't what he had wanted! He imagined a strengthened spine and back

muscles to support the extra weight.

Click.

He tore off his close as she reached him, and he gasped at the size of her.

Trembling, he reached up his hands to caress her marvelous bosom.

Still not right! Her breasts were cold; he liked them toasty warm. They were

never this cold before; so why now... Of course. He had given her bigger

breasts, but had failed to increase the blood flow to them. They just didn't

have enough circulation to keep them warm. One more time, he imagined the

necessary changes.

Click.

And now they were just right. He reached up and ran his hands over the wonderful

mounds of woman-flesh, but though he stood on tip-toe he could not get his face

high enough to kiss them. Grinning mischievously, Rosemary backed away; he

followed. She slipped into her high heels, and her breasts rose out of his

reach. He strained to touch them, but even on tip-toe his fingertips barely

reached her nipples.

She watched his futile efforts for a while with a grin, then began to laugh. She

engulfed each of his hands in one of hers and forced them to his sides. "We do

things my way, little man," she said. One hand pressed against the back of his

head and pulled his face tight against her. With the heels on, her crotch was

just at the level of his mouth. She lifted one leg and stroked his sides with

her calf, then the leg tightened around him and she pressed his face more

insistently into her crotch. "Pleasure me," she commanded.

She was slow in coming, but when she did she came so hard that he was afraid she

would crack his ribs. Afterwards she looked down at him, and smiled.

"Good boy! You remembered everything I've told you about pleasuring me. Now I'm

going to use you in a way you might enjoy more." Her hands came flowing down

over his body, until they reached his waist. He was only half erect at the

moment, but suddenly he felt as if his penis would ring if it were tapped with a

hammer. Then she lifted him up and buried his face in her breasts while she

pumped him in and out...

# # #

Of course, the optimal, the most beautiful skin color was a particular shade of

brown that he had only seen in certain Koreans.

Click.

And he thought green eyes -- with yellow-brown centers -- were terribly sexy. No

other eye color would do.

Click.

Blue-black hair going down to the waist, with just enough of a curl to it to

make it interesting: that's what she needed!

Click.

Her waist should be thinner, of course, to emphasize even more her wonderful

bust and hypnotic hips.

Click...

# # #

Rosemary was perfect.

There was no doubt about that. From the top of her exquisitely shaped head to

the tips of her elegant toes, there was not the slightest aspect of her being

that could be improved. Surely, Jim thought, such a marvelous creature had never

existed before in the history of the world.

She stood above him in her naked glory and smiled down at him. He in turn didn't

quite come up to her knee. He was one of the last of the Little People, as the

Irish called them, descended from ancestors who had stowed away on human boats.

"You are a beautiful little creature, Dick," she said. Dick was not his real

name, but it was the one she had given him. She crooked a finger, and he felt

suddenly light-headed. From between his legs arose his enormous rod, a third as

long as he himself was. His heart pounded with the effort to produce the blood

pressure to make it erect. It did so quite effectively, drawing the blood from

the rest of his body -- including his head. His vision swam. This was the curse

that had been placed on him for his arrogant treatment of one of his own

people's women. His member was simply to large to be used.

Except that it was just to right size to fit a human woman. Mistress Rosemary

had captured him one day as she wandered the forest. It hadn't been difficult.

He had stood there dumbly, paralyzed by her magnificence and beauty, as she

simply walked up to him and and grabbed him. Upon removing his baggy clothes she

had discovered his curse, and her own ability to make it rise at will. Since

then she had never let him wear clothes again, and had kept him as her captive

plaything.

Now she crouched before him, wrapped one hand around his waist, and picked him

up. Standing up again, she touched the silvery ring he wore on his right hand.

"You won't be needing this anymore," she said. "I'll take it back now."

She removed the ring, and it expanded four-fold in every dimension, to a size

appropriate for an adult human finger. Suddenly the curtains dropped from his

mind. He was Nim Biddings. A month ago he had been a normal human being, six

feet tall. He remembered receiving the ring and the price associated with its

use, and was horrified. How could he have let things get so out of hand?

And suddenly he realized another thing. Rosemary was now identical to the woman

who had given him the ring.

She smiled as she saw the realization dawning on his face. "Yes, I gave you the

ring," she said. "I've been studying magic for some time now. I tried to tell

you many times, but you would never listen. And that night when I was drawing

chalk lines on the floor and dancing for you -- I was weaving the spell to make

myself look like this."

She ran a finger down his rigid penis. "Oh, how I wanted you. You can't imagine

how badly I wanted you, day after day, year after year. But you never seemed to

want me as much. You denied me your body. I was never good enough for you. After

a while, I stopped trying to meet your standards.

"But then I finally found the way of being everything you could possibly want.

This was going to be my present to you, Dick," she gestured at her body with her

free hand, "you were going to have the wife of your dreams, and it wasn't going

to cost you anything.

"But you turned me down, humiliated me, and left me alone to cry my heart out.

So I decided that you would have to pay for every improvement. I wanted to see

just how hard to please you were, how far you would go." She ran her eyes up and

down his tiny body. "You surprised even me."

She sat down and held him in her lap with one hand while the other stroked him.

"So what do I do with you now, Dick?"

"Restore me back to normal, of course," he said. "What else? And why are you

calling me Dick? That's not my name."

She laughed. "Of course it's not your name. It's your function. And truth be

told... I rather enjoy you like this. For fifteen years I've had to beg and

plead for you to share your body with me. Now I can take you whenever I want

you. I don't even have to ask." Her fingers slid over his body, lingering over

the hard bumps of his muscles, and stroking his oversized penis. She lifted him

to her face and began kissing and nuzzling every part of him. He struggled,

which only seemed to amuse and arouse her. Then she paused, gazing down on him

with a glowing, rapturous smile. "Oh, it'll be wonderful!"

She lowered him between her legs and pumped him in and out with boundless

energy. When she was done she held him pinned with her legs for a while.

Finally, she lifted him up with a sigh.

"Our plane home leaves in two hours. Time for me to dress and pack you away."

She unzipped a large purse, folded his legs up against his chest, and placed him

inside.

"Rosemary, no!" he protested. She held a finger to her lips, made a few motions

with her hands, and suddenly he could neither move nor speak. Then she pulled

the zipper shut and darkness enclosed him.

--- THE END ---

FIVE PERCENT by Nadie   The sounds of the ocean drifted in through the night air as Jim Biddings and his wife

MORE ABOUT FIVE PERCENT by Nadie   The sounds of the ocean drifted in through the night air as Jim Biddings and his wife