Delta, Chapter 15: The Mandelbrot Set

Part Three

Metaphysics

“I am peace,
and war has come because of me.”

—The Thunder, Perfect Mind

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Chapter Fifteen

The Mandelbrot Set

Lil screamed.

She had seen Ráichéal sucked into the maw of the giantess, and she had not come back out. The man had shuddered, and blown his load, and Ráichéal was gone.

And so Lil did the only thing she could do. She leapt for the giantess, hoping she could make it to her destination in time.

The woman’s breasts were slick with perspiration, and Lil skidded down them, coming to a rest at the edge of her brassiere. Throwing caution to the wind, she threw herself over, bouncing off the shirt and back underneath the breast, and sliding down the beyond-vertical slope toward the panties below.

“Lloyd! Sue! Quick!” she cried as she skidded past the woman’s navel as the woman was standing up, with the sickening knowledge that she was passing by Ráichéal as she did so. She didn’t know if the giant couple meant to do anything more, and didn’t care. Now was for running, and sliding, and hurtling toward the only hope Ráichéal had.

She hit the waistband of the panties and bounced beyond it, grasping onto a bow that decorated them. “Can you hear me?” she cried out, for a moment terrified that something had happened to them.

Lloyd’s head jerked up. “Lil? Is that you?” he called.

“Yes, bloody – you have to do something! The giantess swallowed Ráichéal!”

“What, on purpose?”

Delta: What the Frack is Going On?

(With apologies to Battlestar Galactica.)

So since I’ve revived Delta after another interminable absence, and after roughly 225 pages-worth of writing, you may feel like you’re behind, like there’s a lot of reading for you to do. And if you want to read through the whole Change series, be my guest.

But you probably don’t. And so here’s a little recap on what’s going on in this story so far.

Delta Chapter 14: Imaginary Numbers

Chapter Fourteen
Imaginary Numbers

The bedraggled women in Mike’s briefs were beginning to tire of the location’s novelty.

They had, at least, finally made it to the base of the shaft, and into the protective cover of his pubes. But said pubes were currently soaking wet and growing wetter, as Mike shook his hips to the music. What’s worse, their world would shift often now, as Mike rearranged his semi-erect phallus, either on his own or by grinding on his wife.

“You know,” Ráichéal said, “I’m growing to dislike penises.”

“I’m really only tired of this particular one,” Lil said. “I – whoop! – bloody hair, too slick. Anyhow, I’m really just hoping these two will call it an evening soon.”

“Aren’t they just going to leap into bed?” Ráichéal asked.

“Well…yes. But that’s not the end of the world.”

“I should think it would be quite a bit worse than this,” Ráichéal said.

“Actually,” Lil said, then stopped. “Never mind.”

“You have experience with that?” Ráichéal said, eyes widening in the dim briefs. “Well! So it’s not that bad?”

“Oh, it’s dangerous,” Lil said, “but it has its moments.”

Madison: Chapter One

PART ONE

“What’s gone and what’s past help/Should be past grief.”

–William Shakespeare
The Winter’s Tale, Act III, Scene 2

---

It was a crisp fall day in Madison, the kind you get in the upper midwest in early September. The air was full of energy, and the world seemed somehow more real than it normally would’ve. It was a Saturday. The Badgers were playing an away game at Washington, so the campus was placid. I walked down Bascom hill toward Library Mall, drinking in the aura of my new home.

I was two weeks removed from Minnesota, and I was feeling pretty good about life. Today I planned to go down to State Street and kick around for a while, maybe grab a Gyro at the Parthenon, maybe try to sneak in and grab a beer at one of the myriad bars. I expected it would be a good day.

I walked through the mall, half-listening to the street preachers telling folks that the end of the world was near. I passed by the fountain, and I saw her.

She was beautiful–long red hair, green eyes, a flawless, athletic physique. She was short–no more than 5′2″–but somehow she seemed bigger. I was instantly aroused the way you can only be when you’re eighteen.

I passed by without talking to her. She was older than me, I could tell, and she was out of my league. But her image was burned in my brain. I didn’t know at the time, but that was the first time I ever laid eyes on Liz Anderson.

* * *

Liz was a junior. She’d been at Madison long enough to know the ropes, long enough to fall in love with the city. On days when she was a little more giddy than usual, she’d tell her friends it was her city, that she owned it.

She was healing; her friends knew it, she knew it. She was healing from that day in March when her date had taken her further than she’d wanted to go. No point pressing charges; it was her word against his, and there just wasn’t enough other evidence to support her claim. She’d vowed revenge at the time, but now she knew that there was no point in that, either; if she killed him, she’d go to jail. She could try to beat him up, but he was much bigger than her. So she worked it out as best she could, with friends and the folks at the counseling center, and as time went by the wound scabbed over. It still came out when she was a little more manic than usual, or a little more down.

She was in the library, poking around the back shelves. She was doing research on the Holocaust for her history class; a 20-page term paper loomed, and she wanted to get a start on things. She was flipping through a series of books, including one by a holocaust survivor.

The book was old and worn–the publish date was 1952–and it seemed to call out to Liz. She opened it up and flipped through the pages. The smell of must told her that this book had probably not been opened in thirty years. All the better to quote it, she thought, as she flipped.

Out of nowhere, a piece of paper dropped from the book. She bent down to retrieve it, looking at the folded piece of paper carefully. Curious, she unfolded it, the yellow parchment almost falling apart from age. It was a hand-written note, in ancient black ink. What she saw would change her forever.

Die Grundregeln des Wachsens und des Werdens kleiner

The principles of growing and shrinking? she thought, as she looked at the German text. She’d studied German for five years, had taken the AP test on it. She spoke it well enough to read the document in front of her.

It was a series of seven principles, seven incantations. Straightforward. And a simple notation: “Wenn eine Person diese Grundregeln mit malace in ihrem Herzen hervorruft, dann wird sie sicher verdorben, und ihr Verstand wird bewölkt. Diese Warnung, dann. Verwenden Sie diese Grundregeln nur für Ihre Verteidigung gegen Männer.”

Use these rules only for your defense against men, she mused. She would.

She carefully folded the paper and placed it in her breast pocket. She quietly slipped out of the library, and back to the dorms.

* * *

She couldn’t say why she thought the paper was real. It read like bad science fiction. But in her heart, she knew. They were there, the main spells of GTS, the ones you’ve practiced and used: grow, shrink, parry, age reduction, claris, morpheus, and transport. Each one detailed, with rules and information. The way shrinking makes you stronger, the way claris gives you eyes in someone else’s head.

Liz didn’t know it, but she’d stumbled upon an original copy of the secret of GTS. The copy she held was written out in Bergen-Belsen by a Catholic Priest, who happened to be a Keeper of the Secret–a part of the organization that predated the Cadre. He was so disgusted by the Nazis and the havoc they had created that he gave the secret to a woman and her family, convinced that women could not fail but run the world better than men. This betrayal of the secret–no betrayal in my mind–led to the formation of the League. And of course, we all know how that played out.

The woman had made three copies of the Principles. One found its way to the League. One has been lost to history. And one showed up in that book at the University of Wisconsin–Madison. And eventually, in the hands of Liz.

* * *

“Do you think it was coincidence?” asked Scott, sipping a Summit Maibock. “Or do you think someone planted it there for Liz?”

“I don’t know,” allowed Jake. “I’ve long since learned that there is a destiny that shapes our ends. For whatever reason, though, she found it.”

* * *

Liz studied the document well into the night, well after her roommate had gone to bed. This was it. This was the key to it. This was her revenge.

She decided to test it out. Holding the paper, she incanted the shrinking spell. Seconds later, she was two inches tall–the height she had hoped for.

She let out a whoop! and fell to the ground, laughing. After a few moments, she restored herself, and went to bed. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she’d have her requital.

* * *

Greg Vanderhague was a cocky, arrogant bastard, or so I’m told. He was a Fiji, the kind of guy who was on the football team in high school (but not the star quarterback), who is in the frat in college (but not an officer), who thinks he’s God’s gift to women (but treats them like shit). He was a bit of a pretty boy, but that was more than trumped by the depths of his stupidity. If not for his ineffable charisma, he would have been a loser.

But ah, that ineffable charisma. He could be described by a line from My Fair Lady: “Oozing charm from every pore/he oiled his way across the floor.” As such, he did get his share of women–for a while, anyhow, until they realized what a dunderhead he was. And he got his share of sex–sometimes, by putting a toe–or other body part–over the line.

He was meandering down Langon, heading for class, or maybe not–he thought maybe a brewski would be good, it being the late hour of eleven A.M. Or maybe he’d stop and see that one girl–what’s her name? Julie? She gave good head, or had last week. Yeah, maybe he’d see if she was up for a little hide the banana. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her approaching. He admired the body for half a second before he realized who it was. Oh, shit, that crazy bitch who cried rape on him. Well, yeah, technicallyshe’d said no, but come on, she wanted it. They all wanted it, really, even if they said they didn’t. He could see it in her eyes.

He started to turn when she called out to him. “Greg!” she said, smiling a winning smile.

“Uh, hi, uh–”

“Liz. Liz Anderson. You probably don’t remember me,” she said, tossing her hair.

“Uh–sure I do. Liz. Right. Um…so, how have you been?”

“Look, I know it’s a little awkward,” she said seductively, leaning in and dropping her voice a half-octave. “I know I said some things I shouldn’t before, but, well, I was scared. But you were so good…I mean, I just wanted to thank you.”

Greg’s mind was reeling. This was not an unusual development. The wheels went round until they finally stopped on “SHE–WANTS–ME.”

It’s hell being that stupid.

“Um, well, yeah, well I knew you wanted it. You were just nervous.”

“Well, duh! I mean, you’re so much man, and I’m just me. I mean, I just wanted to pay you back what I owe you,” she said, running her finger down his chest. “That’s all.”

* * *

Five minutes later, they were back at the house. They bounded up the back stairs and into Greg’s private room. He had asked her for a blowjob, and she’d assented. Well, there you go, proof in Greg’s prowess. He was stripped naked before she even removed a stitch of clothing. Liz turned to him and smiled.

“Oh Greg? Time for me to pay you back what you’re owed.”

He smiled, and leaned back, his tumescent cock ready for her lips to pleasure him.

“Shrink,” he heard, “1/24th scale.”

What a funny think for her to say, he thought, as he waited. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and started to sit up. What are you waiting for? he was going to ask. He didn’t have all day…well he did, but that was beside the point….

He didn’t say any of that. He sat up, and his mind went blank.

This was not an unusual development.

But what had happened was. He was still on his bed, but it was enormous. And that girl–she was approaching him–oh Christ, she was enormous. She was a hundred feet tall. Oh, fuck oh fuck oh fuck….

“Well, Greg, I’m paying you back. You know, it’s funny. You look so pathetic down there that I almost feel sorry for you.

“Almost.” She grinned down at the tiny man, now scooting backwards away from her, a look of terror on his face.

“Where are you going? I didn’t say you could leave.” She reached down and grabbed him firmly, lifting him up into the air with a jerk.

Greg’s stomach did flips as she held him in front of her enormous face. He was still trying to figure out what had happened. I mean, she had come on to him, but now…his brain hurt. “I thought you wanted me!” he called out. He could see immediately it was the wrong thing to say, though he didn’t know why.

“Greg, you’re an idiot. And unless I stop you, you’ll do to other women what you did to me.” She grinned. She had been unsure about this last part, but now she knew it was perfect. Poetic justice. “You know, you like pussy so much, I think I’ll give you a close-up view.” She pulled her panties down a bit and put him up her skirt, enclosing him between her thighs.

Greg was staring up at the enormous twat, trying to figure out what she was going to do to him. He thought about reaching out to touch it, but he didn’t dare.

Then, suddenly, the pressure came. The thighs swung shut tightly, pushing him into the pussy, forcing the air from his lungs. He gasped as Liz crushed him slowly, his brain trying to understand what was happening. But in the end, it failed him. His last thought, incongruously, was of Coors Light beer. Or so I like to think. He was too dumb to ever realize why Liz had marked him for destruction.

She reached into her panties after five minutes of squeezing and removed Greg’s lifeless body. She laughed at it, and then shrank it away to dust size. She walked out of the house free as a bird, and lighter than air.

She thought as she walked down Langdon of how many women had gone through what she had. How many women faced rapists and sexual predators, with no hope for recourse. She could avenge them. She could give them justice. She had the power.

This city was hers. She owned it.

* * *

“So where do you come into the story?” asked Scott, as he dug into the pasta. They were on their third round–time to start eating, or it would be a very drunk night.

“Soon enough. But you’ll miss a lot of background if we just skip to my part of the story. This is all important, Scott. It’s important you know that Liz started with the best of intentions.”

Jake sipped his scotch, and said, sadly. “But it got away from her. It always does.”

Madison: Prologue

Men rarely (if ever) manage to dream up a god superior to themselves. Most gods have the manners and morals of a spoiled child.

–Lazarus Long

The dreams still came. They always came. Though he was long past grieving, though he had long since moved on, still they came.

Sometimes, they would sneak up quietly, a glimpse out of the corner of an eye in that dream where Betty White serves guacamole to everyone but you. Other times, they were intense, and so palpably real that he woke up, gasping for air and disoriented until he looked around, and saw he was still in his apartment, still lying next to his wife, still alive.

He cursed, silently, every time the dreams came.

He had killed her; he had long since come to terms with it. Her death had saved thousands, even millions. And it was hard to argue with results. Those battles were done for, forever. There was peace now. And if he hadn’t killed her–well, she wasn’t listening to reason. She’d been insane. And he had done what he had to do, slaughtering her along with the best part of his soul.

He had done the right thing. He knew it.

Still came the dreams.

* * *

He was back there, back in Madison. Shrunk to two inches high. She kept him this height most of the time, though he was in her complete control. Sometimes he was larger, the size of a Ken doll. Sometimes he was so small that he was barely visable to the naked eye. But he was hers, utterly. The escape attempts had failed; besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted to escape. When she was sane….

The rumble came. The box lid was removed, and he instinctively put his hand up against the blinding light. She was standing over him, backlit, her long curly red hair swaying like a crimson forest. She looked at him as one might look at a favorite pet. He relaxed. She was more sane than usual.

“LITTLE ONE,” she said, her face betraying no emotion. “HOW ARE YOU?”

“I’m fine, Liz,” he said, reflexively, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head that said this isn’t real, this is a dream, you’re lying in your bed next to Teri. She isn’t here, you aren’t here. It’s a mirage….

“AND TERI?”

This puzzled him, briefly. The dream-him knew no Teri, save for a girl he had known in high school. The now-him paused long enough to mutter an intemperate Ah. Something about now. Maybe now the dream will change scenes….

“She’s wonderful,” he said, and meant it.

“I AM GLAD. I NEED NOT WORRY ABOUT YOU WHEN I DO WHAT I MUST DO NEXT.”

“What are you talking about, Liz?”

She smiled, that brilliant white, dazzling smile he had come to love and fear. “YOU DON’T HONESTLY THINK I’M DEAD, DO YOU?”

Both sountracks in his mind went quiet. Finally, he started to say, “Well yes, Liz, I killed you.”

He started to, but her laughter drowned him out.

“SILLY. WHAT SPELL DID YOU USE? YOU DIDN’T KILL ME. YOU JUST DELAYED ME BY A FEW YEARS.”

What spell did he use? Wait–he remembered. Shrink her to 1/5000th of an inch, and bind it for ten years. No, she couldn’t have survived it. No chance.

“I’M TOUGHER THAN YOU GIVE ME CREDIT FOR, JAKE. I ALWAYS HAVE BEEN. BUT I WISH YOU NO ILL. I JUST WANTED TO GIVE YOU THIS MESSAGE: STAY CLEAR OF MADISON. THE TOWN IS MINE.”

“Liz–no. You know I’d have to defend Madison. I’m sworn to it.”

“DO YOU WANT TO KILL ME AGAIN?”

The words hung in the air. He tried to respond, but before he could, a loud buzzing filled the air, and suddenly, the dream world vanished.

* * *

He showered and shaved, trying to put last night’s dream behind him.

It had been so real. Like he was back in Madison all over again, with her.

Liz–oh God, it had been so hard. He envied Scott. Scott had come to his crossroads, and he had gambled everything and everyone for love. And he’d rolled boxcars.

But Liz, well, she was insane.

He’d done the right thing.

The drive to work was simple enough, listening to Tom Barnard bitch about immigrants while stuck in traffic on Cedar. He needed to give more thought to moving into the office–God knows he could make room for a mansion, if need be. Teri had broached the subject, but he’d demurred. There was something about the drive that settled him, connected him to the real world. It would be easy to just get sucked up into this, to become nothing but the GTS Purveyor. It was good to go home at the end of the night and watchAmerican Idol and snuggle with Teri. It made him more or less human.

He entered the office, and grabbed his morning coffee. Kari was in already, and Scott was settled in. Sarah’s office was empty, of course–she rarely came in, what with her job as a law clerk for the Hennepin County Public Defender.

Jake smiled inwardly. Good for her, going off and doing something else. It would’ve been easy for her just to pal around with her husband, go Godding around. With the power they had, they could rule the world. But she simply went to law school and studied hard and did her best. He had tremendous respect for her.

He knocked on Scott’s door. “How’s it going?” he asked.

“Just fine, boss,” said Scott, looking up from his computer. “Just going over the billing statements. Money’s a little bit tighter since we hired on our star client.”

“Make money, lose money, point is to have fun,” said Jake, thinking idly he’d heard that somewhere before. “Besides, that’s just on the GTS Enterprises side of things. Our stipend from the GTS Society ensures we’ll never be living paycheck to paycheck–even if we shut ‘er down now.”

“Yeah, well, it would be nice if we could show a consistent profit.”

“Say, did you get the crystal out to Almovodar?”

“Of course, boss. But isn’t he….”

“Gay? Well, yes. But he’s also obviously interested in GTS. What he does with the crystal is up to him. The community owes him big.”

“No pun intended, I’m sure,” said Scott, grinning.

“Of course not. Now back to work.”

He wandered into the office and slumped into his chair, and opened up his email. The date struck him. March 13. It had been almost ten years. He’d defeated her on the Ides of March, he remembered, in 1993. Idly, he flipped through the inbox. Spam…Spam…”Thank You” from a gentleman at Northwestern University…Spam….

He cleared out the inbox and turned to the readings. Ingenious, really, the “listening” network that Scott had come up with. It measured GTS energies across the globe. Well, in theory. Really, outside of the U.S., Canada, and Western Europe, most of the globe was a cipher. But coverage here was good.

He looked it over, noting briefly that there appeared to be slightly elevated readings in the upper midwest. Well, stick two adepts in St. Paul and you’ll get that from time to time, he thought.

He turned away from the readings, and back to the mounting paperwork in front of him. Well, time to get back to work, he thought.

* * *

The day ended, and Jake Thiessen closed up shop. Teri was out of town, visiting Victoria at Society Headquarters in Chicago.

He didn’t want to go home alone, not tonight. He’d called her, midday, and related the dream.

“I’m never quite sure how to feel when you’re dreaming about her,” Teri had said, simply.

“Oh, Christ, I’d never want to be with her. She was insane, Teri. I just–it rattles me, you know? I wish I could get past this, get it out of my system. I hoped telling you….”

He had trailed off. The conversation went away from the dream, and on to the more mundane and happy pieces of life.

The day ended, and Jake didn’t want to be alone.

“Scott! Hey, are you busy tonight?”

“Nah. Sarah has class, and then she has to do research for about thirty hours on her law review article. God bless WestLaw, I don’t know how she’d do the research if she had to go through the books.”

“You want to grab a drink? I’m kinda on my own ’til Teri gets back.”

“Sure,” grinned Scott. He’d never admit it, but he loved getting to hang out with Jake alone. Not that he didn’t love Sarah, but he was in such an intensively female-centric job that it was nice to get away from women once in a while. “Let me give the wife a call and clear it.”

* * *

Sweeney’s is a little neighborhood bar not too far from the Cathedral–and not too far from what used to be a bad part of St. Paul. It has everything a good local needs to have–good drink selection, reasonable prices, an appreciation for the regulars.

Jake had been a regular here, briefly, a long time ago. He still homed in on the place when he needed a comfortable place to pass the time. He ordered the scotch, drank it neat as he’d learned to, and sighed.

“I’ve gotta say, I’ve seen you happier,” said Scott. “You missing Teri?”

“No. I mean, yeah. But that’s not it.” Jake sipped a little more scotch, chased with water. What had he told Scott once? The price to achieve what we want is awfully fucking high.

“What then?”

“Madison.”

“Madison.” Scott rolled the word around, trying to load it with as much love and fury and anguish as Jake gave it. “You’ve never told me exactly what happened in Madison. I’ve read the basic reports, but–”

“The basic reports are woefully inaccurate.”

Scott stopped short. “But haven’t you–”

“I gave them what information was needed, that’s all. I wouldn’t give her up. That’s the one decent thing I could do for her.”

The air was thick for a while. And then, slowly, Jake said the words.

“Scott, I think it’s time I told you about what happened to me in Madison. All of it.”

Scott swallowed. Jake’s exploits in Madison were legendary. They’d popped up once or twice in odd comments, or brief mentions of this or that.

“Okay, Jake, I’m listening,” he said, taking a swig of his beer. 

Lost Change, Chapter 19: All Good Things….

Lost Change

Chapter Nineteen

All Good Things….

by D.X. Machina

“Many waters cannot quench love; floodwaters cannot overflow it. If someone were to offer all his possessions to buy love, they would be utterly despised.”

Song of Songs 8:7

“There were two teams that wanted to win, and when that happens, only one of them can win.”

Dennis Green

Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between to shore of your souls.

Khalil Gibran, “On Marriage” from The Prophet

“Don’t try to have the last word, you might get it.”

Lazarus Long

D.X. Machina
League Headquarters
New York, New York

The halls of League Headquarters seemed cramped.

I had no time to appreciate the grim humor. I was charging pell-mel after Leah Jackson. I knew where she was heading, at least in general.

She was going to trigger Plan B.

Ronnie was right behind me. “Left, D.X., left. It’s in the experimental wing. Sci-tech is running it.”

We got to a locked door. “Open, Ceres, Authorization Alice 4,” barked Veronica.

Nothing happened.

“Shit! They changed my passcode.”

“I think I can help,” said a winded, five-foot-seven Sarah, sprinting from down the hall. “Stand aside,” she said, raising her hand and letting loose with a shrink spell. The door stood up well–it had been enchanted, of course–but it wasn’t ever meant to withstand a shrinking spell with the full power and emotion of an adept behind it.

We were through into the chamber. And Leah Jackson was at a workstation, furiously typing commands.

“Sorry guys, you’re out of time,” she said, wickedly.

“That may be the worst pun I’ve ever heard,” I replied, letting loose with an A/R spell. It staggered Leah backward. She looked up, the picture of an innocent seventh-grader.

“I wouldn’t do any more, D.X. I’ve already started the countdown. Only I can abort the sequence. In eight minutes, nothing around us will have existed for three hundred years. The only survivors will be in this room–and if I have anything to say about it, the only survivor will–be–me!”

She grinned triumphantly, only to disappear.

“Sorry,” said Scott. “But she wasn’t going to help us anyway. Ronnie–think you can help us figure out how to stop the countdown?”

* * *

Veronica Ceres

I looked at the screen, trying desperately to figure out a way to abort the sequence. But there was nothing. The codes were locked–the time shift would occur in less than six minutes.

“I’m sorry. There’s no way to reverse the process. Everything’s locked.”

“We could shrink the time shifting devices,” offered Anonymous.

“No dice. Sci-tech designed them to operate even if reduced a billionfold. The people will be dropped into a coded out world….”

Suddenly, it hit me.

“…unless we change destinations! We can beam them out into space–Leah didn’t lock down locales. We can drop the people on Mars, and nobody will get hurt–”

“–except the people, who all die. We can’t do that, Ronnie.” Sarah was grim.

“If we don’t, everyone alive on Earth will die. We can’t do that either.” Scott was more grim. “Greatest good–we have to kill these people to save everyone else.”

“Unless…Ronnie, what would happen if we kept the area low. Right now, it’s supposed to cover all of Earth. What if we just dropped them in a ten square meter area in the Middle of Nowhere, Montana?”

“D.X….that’s a hell of an idea. Quick, I’ll recalibrate.”

“Wait!” cried Scott. “Won’t they be tiny?”

“Yes, but alive. They’ll have a chance. And so will the rest of the world.”

“How long do we have?” asked Sarah.

“Three minutes, eight seconds.”

“Then I’ve got to run…there’s one more passenger for this train.”

* * *

John, son of Maria
The Land of the Goddesses

She ran into the room, looming like the goddess she was. She ran to my prison of glass, and said, simply, “No time to explain, little one. I’ve got to get you home.”

With that, she slid her fingernail under me and lifted me, and as she lifted I felt myself growing, and growing, and growing, until I was as big as her hand.

She smiled down at me. “You must return to your people, and lead them into a new era.”

“I am but a man….”

“Dare you question your Goddess? You shall lead them–my mark shall be upon you. Now, come with me!”

I had no choice.

* * *

Scott Chelgren

“Thirty seconds, Sarah, you’re cutting it close!”

“Well, he’s here. Where’s the 288:1 chamber?”

She sprinted towards it, and quickly opened the chamber. She set the man down, and as he dropped, he grew smaller, to scale. “Nice work,” I said. “Who is he?”

“A resident,” she smiled. “His wife would miss him.”

“Ten seconds,” said D.X. “I hope to God this works.”

A bolt of power shook the room, and we watched, amazed, as the world in the tiny chambers shimmered. Then, suddenly, they were gone.

“Did it work?” I asked, after a few minutes.

“Only one way to find out,” said D.X. “Come on.”

We walked out of the room, into League headquarters. Then, out into the bright sunshine of a beautiful New York City morning. And something else….

The damage was gone. Sarah’s attack seemed never to have happened.

“D.X.–?”

“It’s too much for the world to believe–giant women trampling things. And Sarah caused minimal damage. So the people choose to believe it was a brief daydream, and the damage repairs itself. Happened in Madison too. You see…the world as a whole still is unready for GTS. They won’t believe it, even when the evidence is right in front of them. But for we fortunate few…it is a wonder.”

The sun shone bright on that New York morning. All was right with the world.

* * *

V. Koschkei

The Peace Accord was reached later that day.

We resored the League–they were quite surprised. But it was the only way.

We disbanded both organizations that afternoon. In its place, we formed a new organization. One which would both protect GTS, and keep it from falling into the wrong hands. No more would we fight the images. No more would we try to stop the websites.

No more would we battle the League.

I would remain on the board of the Growth Triumphant Society, but I would not chair it. Nor would D.X., though he was strongly recommended. In the end, the new chair could not have been more surprised.

“I can’t believe you trust me with this. I mean–after Madison….”

“…Yes, Ronnie, it’s after Madison. And it’s time we let go the past. Besides, you proved your loyalty to the greater world.” D.X. sighed. “It’s time we forgave each other. I mean, the Cold War is over. Maybe it’s time for the GTS war to be over too.”

And so that day–Thursday, November 13, 1997–would be immortalized. Though few would ever know it, it was as important as the fall of the Berlin Wall. It was the end of the war.

* * *

Epilogue

Sarah Kensington

D.X. and Teri got married later that year. There’s something about facing death together that brings two people closer, and it was a beautiful ceremony. I was a bridesmaid, along with Kelly. Scott was a groomsman, and John “Anonymous” Smith was D.X.’s Best Man. And to everyone’s surprise, the former Chairman officiated.

Kelly ended up majoring in Political Science. She worked on a Mayoral campaign in Minneapolis this year, and she’s hoping to build enough connections that she can someday run for office herself. Oh, and unsurprisingly, she had no problem finding love…perhaps someday she can tell that story. It’s a doozy.

Leah Jackson, the former President of the Athena League, materialized in the shoe of a five-year-old girl. She tried to move, only to find herself welded to the sole. Scott’s curse was ingenious, especially since he thought of it on the fly. As the shoes were discarded, she found herself materializing in the bra of a sixty-nine year old woman, and then she became one with an eleven-year-old’s braces. Last we checked, she was part of Mia Hamm’s sock–not that Hamm remembered her time with the League anymore. The Society is considering freeing Ms. Jackson…someday….

Claire’s screenplay never did get developed into a movie–not that it matters much. The special effects budget was out of sight, and besides, reading about it was almost as good.

John, son of Maria, returned to his people, seven feet tall by their scale. Their world has moved, and they are besieged by many strange creatures, but they are fighting together–men and women–and they will be just fine. As for me, I graduated last spring,magna cum laude, with a double major in English and Sociology. Which is why I went immediately to Law School. I’m a one-l at Hamline School of Law…and I’m questioning my sanity right about now. Especially since I have a job anytime I want it with D.X. and Scott.

What? You’re wondering what happened with Scott and I?

I’ll let him tell you.

* * *

Scott Chelgren

Sarah has been kind enough to let me finish the story I started a long time and a different world ago. And I am grateful for the opportunity. After all, it’s been a wild ride, and I never expected this when I picked up a copy of Magick at Magus Books.

It wasn’t always easy for Sarah and I, after the New York incident. She and I were both more powerful than we could’ve ever guessed. It wasn’t easy, like it was when she loomed over me. Well, she still did, most of the time. I didn’t leave her dorm room for quite some time after we got back to Minnesota. Which was nice. Very nice.

But our relationship had been irrevocably altered, and we might not have made it.

But one night, in January of 2000, we were walking outside across the bridge over the Mississippi. I was full-sized, as was she.

We paused as we reached the midpoint of the bridge, the Weisman ahead of us, the Carlson School behind us, the bitter January wind whipping through our souls. “Scott,” she said, quietly, “I love you.”

I smiled at her, and somewhere in the back of my mind, a spark was ignited. The problems we had–they were normal, everyday, mundane problems. With a strange backdrop, undoubtedly–but I loved her. Would love her always.

There would be no more running. I dropped to my knees, and before I knew what I was happening, I found myself reciting an old poem by Ogden Nash, one I had forgotten I knew. It was about happiness–and finding it where your love was.

Its last lines are “Let none, not even you, disparage/Such a valid reason for a marriage.”

We were married in July–it’s too hot, but we didn’t want to wait forever. My wife–Sarah Kensington-Chelgren–was beautiful. Mira even came, with her new boyfriend. He’s a nice guy.

We’ve been together now but six months, and it’s not always easy, but it never is. I’m working with the G.T.S., and D.X. and I are working on some other, special projects.

It’s been a nice change.

Oh, I still shrink, and explore Sarah. We’ll never stop that, I suppose. Sometimes she smiles, and I see her back as she was the day I met her–immense, beautiful, young. And sometimes, I see her as she will be decades from now, when her youth has passed. And she’ll still be beautiful.

Mostly, when I look at her, I see forever.

I miss the early days, but not much. They were fun…but in the end, two people can’t stay together if one is dependent on the other. Well, maybe they can…but it’s not as rewarding.

So as I write this, curled up in Sarah’s cleavage, I know that change would most definitely not do me good. I can lie here, and feel the rythm of her breath, and the beating of her heart…and I know that this is the place I am supposed to be.

I have lost the need to change. And that is a wonderful thing. 

Lost Change Chapter 18: Attack of the 200 Foot Sarah

Lost Change

Chapter Eighteen

Attack of the 200 Foot Sarah

by D.X. Machina

“Amy felt big and invulnerable, wild and untameable. Nothing could match her, nothing could compete with her, she looked at the toy city sprawled out before her and felt contempt for it. It was a toy for her amusement. And she played rough with her toys.”

–Scott Grildrig, Amy Zonn: Beauty Treatment

“I needed to find Sarah, and I had found her. Unfortunately, she had also found me, and I trembled in fear. After all, she stood over four hundred feet tall, and could do with me what she wanted.”

–Change for a Twenty-Two

“What a wonderful world it is that has girls in it!”

–Lazarus Long

Sarah Kensington
League Headquarters
New York City

The little man tried his best.

I had set him on my stomach, and told him to stimulate me. And he had run to my clit and did his best to make me happy.

He made me horny. But that’s not the same thing.

About twenty minutes later, I was dressed again, and the little man sat on my nightstand. He told me of his homeland, of his wife, Belinda. He told me of a land where women ruled men, and it sounded nice.

And he showed me his scars from the times he had been beaten to be corrected, and his world didn’t seem as nice anymore.

I was pondering all of this when Mia came into the room.

“Sarah,” she said, grimly, “the time has come.”

“For what?” I asked.

She didn’t respond at first, then said, “D.X. Machina has rejoined the Cadre, and they are preparing to attack us. We need you to protect the League.”

“Me?”

Mia smiled. “You’re an Adept–you have powers beyond any of the rest of us. You will have to make a stand against them. Come on, there isn’t much time.”

I left the tiny man on my nightstand and followed Mia.

* * *

Scott Chelgren
The Roosevelt Hotel
Mid-town Manhattan

We were on the move.

There were ten of us: myself, D.X., Anonymous, Kelly, and Teri; The Chairman, Szalinsky, Kopec, and Spielberg. And of course, Ms. Ceres, our ally-cum-enemy. We were joined by about a dozen others as we entered the hotel lobby–the main complement of the Cadre’s shock troops.

We began the walk back towards the League’s headquarters. D.X. looked at me, and I gazed back at him. I knew I was going to have to fight, and fight hard–I was the only Adept on our side.

A few blocks away, we heard it. Screaming. People running in terror. We turned a corner, and saw people running away from the epicenter–the headquarters of the League.

She rose up over it beautifully, staring down over the streets of New York like the Goddess she was. She paid no attention to the fleeing people, and instead looked at our advancing regiment.

“YOU SHOULD LEAVE, CADRE,” said Sarah, in a booming voice that was all too familiar. “WE WILL DESTROY YOU.”

“Sarah!” I shouted, hoping she’d hear me above the din. “Sarah, you don’t have to do this!”

But she didn’t hear me. We continued advancing, until she took a great step forward. “I WARNED YOU,” she said, and with a mighty blow of her foot, she shook the world.

I fell to the ground, my mind racing. “Attack her!” cried D.X. “You have to beat her, or she’ll kill us all!”

I rose, and summoning all my strength, I sprinted towards her.

She was achingly beautiful. A goddess, standing astride Times Square like the ruler of the world she could become. She was the angel of Death and the God-Mother of the world rolled into one. I ran toward her bare foot, and grabbed on.

* * *

D.X. Machina

I was experiencing deja vu.

I had been here before–fighting a friend who would destroy the world. This time it was Sarah.

Scott was on her–he would fight her, I knew.

The rest of us had a different battle to fight.

“All right!” I called. “Squad one! Form a line right here and prepare to attack! Work with a/r spells–they won’t be expecting them. Hold it…hold it…now!”

Our shock troops ran forward to meet the onrushing League troops. Reality itself bended and warped as age reduction spells met shrinking spells met morphing spells. More than a few of our soldiers were shrunk, and crushed under the feet of young girls who had moments earlier been women; more than a few women were reduced to infants.

Our line was sagging. Soon, the League’s heavy hitters would move through the line and attack.

I looked toward Sarah, and saw Scott approaching her knee.

She reached down, and brushed him off, sending him falling towards the ground.

* * *

Scott Chelgren

I quickly adjusted as I fell, knowing full well that, at six feet tall, I couldn’t count on the nigh-vulnerability of being tiny. Smaller 1:10000 I thought, and quickly I vanished into the microscopic world, buoyed aloft by air currents. I reached a hard surface, and reversed the spell. I had drifted all the way up to Sarah’s waist. I grabbed the band of her jeans, and continued climbing.

* * *

Sarah Kensington

I felt the man on my leg, and brushed him off. Fool. How dare he try to climb me. What did he think he was going to accomplish? I looked down to watch him splatter on the ground, but he was gone.

Gone?

I started to move forward into the fight. I had been ordered to hang back and wait for things to develop, but I couldn’t watch my comrades dying. I started toward the battle….

And suddenly, I was not there.

I hadn’t expected this, and it took me a moment to realize what had happened. I was in my dorm room in Minneapolis, normal sized. I looked around, trying to regain my bearings. I was a giantess….

Wasn’t I? I felt motion on my stomach. The climber was still with me. I grabbed him, and started to fling him away.

* * *

Anonymous

Sarah vanished.

It startled everyone. Had she shrunk? What the deuce was going on?

We didn’t have time to ponder though, as the League was upon us. Leah Jackson was squaring off against Koschkei, while I had my hands full with Britney Spears. D.X., meanwhile, was circling Mia Hamm, his eyes filled with a simmering rage.

This was it, the final battle.

* * *

Sarah Kensington

I went to toss the man away, but something stopped me.

I held up, and decided to look upon the person I was condemning to death. Then, I could return to New York, and resume my battle.

I opened my hand, and gazed down on the interloper.

After a moment, I said, “Whoever you are, you would be well-advised to drop this charade. Scott Chelgren is dead, and if you thought I would somehow melt or change at the sight of an impostor, you were sorely mistaken.”

The man squeaked, “Sarah, I am Scott, and I’m not dead. Look at me! I am…”

I brought my hands together quickly, but he had disappeared. Instead, he was standing, full-sized, in front of me. “Sarah, for God’s sake, I’m not dead! Come on, we have to stop this battle before it’s too late!”

“LIAR!” I screamed, and lashed out at him with every ounce of strength I had.

* * *

Scott Chelgren

“He who fights and runs away/Lives to fight another day.”

The couplet rang in my head as Sarah cut loose with every ounce of her power. She didn’t believe me–and I had no idea how to prove myself. I knew I couldn’t parry fast enough…and I knew Sarah had homicidal intentions. So I did the only thing I could do. I took her best shot, and tried to absorb the damage.

She had hit me with a simple shrinking spell, one which would reduce me to a manageable size. This told me immediately that the League had not really given her a formal training, which was fortunate–her brute strength was greater than mine, and if she had training, I would be no match for her.

As it was….

I arrested the spell as I crossed the one millimeter threshhold. I grasped the bond of energy between us, and in my mind, I tugged the string through dimension. We were going places.

* * *

Sarah Kensington

I was in a bar.

It was lunch time. And I was sitting on top of an enormous hamburger.

I was no more than a quarter of an inch tall.

A giant woman reached down for the burger, oblivious to my existence. I quickly grasped for the presence of the one who had done this, and to my surprise, found him grasping for me.

Suddenly, we were off of the hamburger, sitting at a table, full-sized, in the bar.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Sarah, but I can’t let you go back to New York. Will you please listen to me?”

I reached out, and pushed him into another place.

* * *

Scott Chelgren

I materialized inside a vagina. Quickly, I was covered in a bloody, disgusting discharge.

This was clearly a heavy day.

I coughed and sputtered. “Nice one, Sarah,” I said, reminding myself never to offer to explore her during her period (not that she had ever let me). “But it’s going to take more than that.” We shifted again.

* * *

Sarah Kensington

He was strong, that’s for sure. He had more fight than I expected.

I was on a treadmill at a gym. An enormous woman was starting to step on for her workout. I started to parry, and realized that he had simply deposited me here. He wasn’t holding me.

A part of my mind was glowing white hot. It was screaming at the part of me that was controlling me.

It couldn’t be.

I saw them kill him.

“YOU WON’T TRICK ME!” I said, and with that, I deposited us in at a Dairy Queen, with him in the middle of a chili cheese dog. He was going to be masticated by an enormous, overweight woman with a bit of stubble. I started to bind the spell…and realized he wasn’t fighting back.

“I won’t fight you anymore Sarah,” he said. “D.X. had to kill his love. And that may have been the right thing. But I can’t kill you, Sarah. I love you too much. If I have to choose between killing you and allowing you to rule over humanity–well, try to rule well. I will always, always love you.”

The woman was getting closer to him. Another bite would do it.

She opened her mouth, and started to bite down. Victory was mine.

Victory….

You wouldn’t hurt me, even if you were seven feet tall….

And the scales fell from my eyes and lo, I could see.

“Scott! Hang on, I’ve got you!”

* * *

Scott Chelgren

I could feel the hot, putrid breath of the woman as she prepared to end my life. And suddenly, the breath turned sweet, and cool.

I looked up, and saw that I stood in the palm of the hand of my love.

She was crying. “OH, SCOTT, I SCREWED UP SO BADLY….”

“Sarah, nothing’s irretrevably broken. We can fix this.”

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD.”

“Sarah, have you never watched The Princess Bride?”

She smiled, a beautiful, radiant smile. “DO YOU THINK…DO YOU THINK TWO ADEPTS, WORKING TOGETHER….”

“Yes,” I said. “Let’s get back to New York.”

* * *

D.X. Machina

Sarah reappeared at our darkest moment.

None of the command group had died–yet. But there was no question how the battle was going. The League had eliminated our shock troops, and it was all we could do to stave off the inevitable. And then Sarah reappeared, two hundred feet tall, and I knew the end had come.

“SURRENDER,” boomed Sarah.

“Never!” I cried.

“NOT YOU, D.X. ATHENA LEAGUE–YOU HAVE TRIED TO SUBVERT HUMANITY TO YOUR OWN IDEA OF PROPRIETY. YOU HAVE TRIED TO IMPOSE YOUR MORALITY ON THE WORLD. YOU HAVE TRIED TO DETERMINE THE COURSE OF EXISTENCE FOR ALL PEOPLE. YOU HAVE TWO CHOICES: SURRENDER, OR DIE.”

And before she got her answer, she was upon them–her hands raised, her eyes closed, power coursing out of her at an impossible rate. Not even an adept wielded that kind of power….

And then I saw Scott, standing proudly on her shoulder, his own eyes closed, his own hands raised. They were working together.

The League fell. One by one, their forces shrank, all the way down to six inches tall.

Sarah walked toward the battle scene. She was her normal height, as was her boyfriend. “I’m sorry,” she said, as she walked toward her former compatriots.

We started to gather the League together, when Scott suddenly blinked.

“Where’s Leah Jackson?”

We turned, and saw her entering League headquarters.

The battle wasn’t over quite yet.