Chapter 01: Growing
Copyright Oggbashan November 2004
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
This story was inspired by Piers Anthony's short story 'The Bridge'. I cannot describe this as an original work only as a variation on his theme.
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On the way from the garage where he parked his car, to the inconspicuous side alley with access to the stairs leading to his penthouse flat, Paul passed a travel agent's shop window. He amused himself every workday evening contemplating the places he could choose to visit. The last couple of weeks he had being looking at something different in the shop window.
Just behind the posters stood a Christmas tree. The decorations were bland and looked as if they had been bought in bulk with little care. Except one: the fairy at the top of the tree. The tip of the tree disappeared under her wide flaring calf-length silver skirt. Her silver top strained across partly concealed breasts. Her golden hair spread over her shoulders. She looked down at Paul with a pitying expression as if she had seen so many men like him, work-dominated and loveless. Her expression seemed to promise kind loving companionship with no illusions about the frailties of the human male. Wherever Paul stood her eyes seemed to be looking straight into his.
Each night for the past week Paul's dreams had been haunted by a full sized version of that fairy. He imagined himself sated with sex and lying cradled against her disproportionately large breasts as she stroked his hair and sang a lullaby. Each morning Paul promised himself that he would walk around the block instead of passing the fairy's shop window. Each evening he would forget until he was standing in front of the shop looking up at her face.
He noticed details about her. Her hand was raised as if holding an invisible wand. She could be blessing passers-by. Her wings had gone. She showed signs of age in her face as if she had grown older with the passing of the years. She seemed to have a special fascination for Paul, why he couldn't tell. Was it the expression, the raised forgiving hand, the missing wings that suggested she was more mortal than most fairies...?
*****
The planet's dominant species was dying. It had happened before and the trend had been reversed when an exploration team from another species landed just in time.
The wise ones had constructed a male and female duplicating apparently nubile specimens of the visiting species and had programmed the replicas to seek sexual intercourse. The semen and vaginal discharge of the visitors had been used to re-invigorate the gene pool and reverse the decline.
That had been thousands of years ago. There had been no visitors since then. The wise ones had spent massive amounts of the planet's resources on the construction of a mass transfer device that reached Earth. Once there a stasis field had to be maintained while the remote transfer station was constructed using Earth materials. Now completed, the transfer station was used to begin building a female replica of a human. It was hoped the replica could attract a human male to deposit his spermatozoa in her. The spermatozoa, transferred to the home planet, would initiate the regeneration of the home planet's biology.
Unfortunately the wise ones found that they had made a basic miscalculation. Earth had been the only planet they could reach with their mass transfer device and they had skimped their basic research. The dominant species on Earth looked similar to their own, ignoring minor details such as skin colour and body hair, but at first, until it was too late, they had not understood that the species was many times larger. The largest person on the home planet stood seven 'xxxx's (translation not possible) high. An average adult human male on Earth stood one hundred and forty times that height.
The wise ones worked as hard as they could to correct their error. They forced their construct to grow as fast as she could but it was a race against advancing death on their home planet. As many of their people as was possible were put into cryogenic tanks. They could be revived if the transfer was successful. The planet's resources were plundered to speed up the construct's development. She had been named 'Minnie' as a joke since she would stand at a sixth of a human male's height and twelve times taller than the largest person on the home planet, a veritable giant. Her vagina was a marvel of ingenuity. It connected directly to the Earth based mass transfer unit. Anything deposited in her vagina would enter the mass transfer unit. It could then be transferred to the home planet, or stored, or returned to Minnie. Any product returned to her could be used several ways.
The cultural anthropologist, the closest approximation to her name is Sarah, had carefully selected the potential donor, Paul Smith. He was divorced but the undoubted father of children. His sperm was therefore assumed to be potent. A sample from a sheet had confirmed this. Sarah had been studying Paul for months. She knew the sort of woman that would attract him, the sort of actions by that woman that might seduce him, and his willingness to take a risk. A married man might hesitate and the wise ones, and Sarah, had their own system of morality. They could not countenance the seduction of someone who had other commitments.
Some of the wise ones were criticised for the length of time that they had spent constructing and growing Minnie. Surely a construct a twelfth of Paul's size would be sufficient? What was special about a sixth? Patiently Sarah explained that Minnie was the size of a magazine centrefold and therefore familiar to Paul as an erotic symbol. It would be difficult enough to persuade Paul to penetrate a person apparently so small (Small! The critics snorted.) and it was essential that Minnie should be obviously mature and fully developed. The size of Minnie's breasts were also ridiculed. Surely they were out of proportion? Sarah sent them copies of a centrefold scanned from Earth. That silenced the critics.
The wise ones and Minnie still had several obstacles to overcome. The transfer station could only animate Minnie for one hour. During that time she had to seduce Paul, get his consent to the transfer of his spermatozoa and achieve successful coition. Once the transfer had been completed Minnie's task would be complete and she would die... unless. But it seemed unlikely that she could induce Paul to allow her to survive. The wise ones were slightly dismayed that they had made an intelligent being that would die so soon but they could see no alternative. Animating Minnie had been ruinously expensive. They could not afford to continue to animate her after her task was fulfilled however strongly Sarah argued for Minnie's life. The only concession Sarah wrung from them was a slight modification of the remote transfer apparatus so that Minnie could still use it after the main purpose had been achieved.
They had transported the Christmas fairy from their planet to the travel shop persuaded by Sarah that one of the travel shop assistants would take pity on the apparently abandoned fairy. The fairy had been constructed as a trial unanimated model of Minnie, who herself, was the best approximation they could make to Paul's fantasy woman. Sarah was convinced that if Paul saw the fairy, Minnie's subsequent seduction would be easier and quicker. She hadn't convinced everyone. Whether Sarah was right or wrong, everything rested on Minnie. If they had made a miscalculation, other than the size and that couldn't be corrected, their civilisation was doomed.
Paul woke as something stroked his cheek. He turned his head. Something scuttled out of the way. He reached behind him and turned on the bedside light. What had touched him? Was it a moth? The touch was soft and fleeting. He looked again.
There, standing on his pillow, was the woman/fairy of his dreams. She had shed her top to reveal a silver bikini that strained to cover her breasts. Her silver skirt spread over her hips. She had a beautiful golden skin contrasting with her long blonde hair. Her figure... she was obviously very adult with a flawless face that looked as if it had seen too much and yet could still understand.
Paul just stared. This vision was perfect. She was better than any dream he had ever had. This woman was an exact evocation of every physical attribute he found desirable. Her maturity was just right. He didn't feel comfortable with younger women. This one was old enough without appearing to be older than Paul. Even her stance was provocative without being too overt. He shook his head. He must still be dreaming.
"Well, Paul?" the vision said, opening its luscious mouth and revealing perfectly white teeth, "are you just going to lie there or are you going to DO something?"
"What...?" Paul spluttered.
"Here I am, the woman you have always wanted, and you are just lying there like a beached whale. I want you. You know you want me. Do something about it and I don't mean write poetry."
That shook Paul. He didn't think anyone knew about his poetry. His poems were buried in a password-protected file on his hard drive. He wrote poems about neighbouring women he found attractive; women he passed in the street; women who were shop assistants and women he met. He never wrote about the centrefolds he collected. He could dream about them but he played five-finger exercises while thinking about the women he wrote about.
He reached out for the woman. As his hand moved the shock of her actual size hit him. This woman, ideal vision of his dreams, was about a foot high. His forefinger seemed enormous as her hands grasped its tip. Her small hands sent a thrill through his body as she squeezed his fingertip. She pulled his finger around her naked waist. Her skin was so soft, so smooth, so silky and so warm. His sheet tented with his instinctive response.
The woman looked down at the sheet.
"There's the proof. You react to me. All I want is for you to make love to me – now!"
"How can I? You are so small," Paul protested.
"I'm not small where it matters. See..."
