Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The following is probably a work of FICTION.  It was sent back in time in a
quantum bottle.  So who really knows for sure? ...

   Feel free to reprint or take credit for it (as if I could stop you), but
please don't make any changes, or I won't write anything new!

   More of TooMuchTime's erotic writings can be found here ... 
/~TooMuchTime/

   NEW YEAR'S EVE BARBIE

   by TooMuchTime (TooMuchTime2002@hotmail.com)

   Copyright(c) 2003, TooMuchTime.  All rights reserved.

   To put it nicely, Roger had not had as great a Christmas as he would
have liked.  To put it bluntly, as Roger sometimes did when nobody else
could hear him mumbling, this Christmas had sucked ass.  The presents he'd
received were okay, but only okay, and nothing spectacular.  Among the key
items missing, of course, was the GameCube he'd practically begged his
parents for.  He understood why it was missing, of course -- his father had
lost his job a few months earlier.  They promised Roger that once the bills
were caught up again, his GameCube was the first thing they'd buy, maybe
for his 14th birthday, coming up in March.

   Still in all, it wasn't the lack of cool gifts that had him down in the
dumps nearly a week after Christmas.  It was the fact that his Uncle Ted
hadn't visited this year.  Roger loved his uncle, and aspired someday to
even BE him, if it was at all possible.  Uncle Ted was a wildlife
photographer, and as such, he traveled all over the world taking pictures
of places and things that Roger himself could only dream about.  And every
year since Roger had been a baby, Uncle Ted had always come home to
Missouri at Christmas-time to visit them, and to regale them with fantastic
stories about his adventures in African jungles, on Tibetan mountains, or
on never-explored tropical islands in the middle of the Pacific ...  every
year, that is, except this one.  What's worse, he didn't even call or write
or send a card to explain why.  He simply never showed up.

   Roger was pouting in his room, sitting on the floor, playing a game on
his crappy old Nintendo and generally feeling betrayed by life, when his
mother knocked on the door.  "Roger?"

   "What?" he snapped.

   "I thought you might want to know that a package just arrived for you.
Guess who it's from?"

   Roger practically jumped to his feet.  "Uncle Ted?" He ran to the door,
threw it open, and saw his mother standing there, smiling, a medium-sized
box resting in her hands.  Sure enough, it was addressed to him, and the
handwriting was his uncle's.  "Thanks!" Roger said, his mood considerably
improved, then grabbed the box and ducked back into the room again.

   His mother simply rolled her eyes.  "Enjoy," she said, and left, pulling
the door shut behind her.

   But Roger was too busy tearing the box open to hear her.  Inside, he
found three things -- a floppy tan safari hat of some kind, a small wooden
box with bizarre carvings on it, and a card.  He quickly threw the hat on
his head, then tore open the card.  A photo fell out.  It was his uncle
sitting on a straw mat on a beach somewhere, grinning widely, wearing swim
trunks and a hat just like the one he'd sent Roger.  There were casts on
both of his legs, a tall drink in his hand, and an exotic smiling woman
squatting on either side of him, their arms around him.  Both of the women
were golden-skinned, beautiful, wore skimpy bikinis, and had -- as Roger
couldn't help but notice -- huge perfect boobs.  Wow, he thought.  TWO hot
chicks.  Yes, he certainly DID want to be his uncle someday.

   It took some effort, but Roger finally pulled his eyes away from the
women in the photo to read the handwritten letter that was tucked inside
the card as well:

   "Dear Favorite Nephew," it started, which immediately made Roger
snicker. It was a going joke between them.  He was his uncle's only nephew.
"Sorry I couldn't make it home for the holidays.  I was doing some
cliff-diving last week from 100 feet up, and hit the water a bit badly. 
Now, as you can see, I've got nasty fractures on both legs, as well as some
back problems, and the doctors think it's best if I don't travel too much
right now.  I'll be back in the States as soon as I'm feeling better.

   "In the meantime, I've enclosed some gifts.  The hat I'm sure you can
figure out.  It's the same one I've been wearing for the past year, and up
till last week, it's given me lots of good luck.  As you can see in the
photo, it's definitely a chick magnet ...  so wear it sparingly, unless you
want to get mobbed by the girls!  Heh.

   "Also enclosed is something I picked up during my travels in Australia.
Inside the box are two pouches." Roger opened the small box, and sure
enough, found two pouches.  "The contents of these pouches are VERY
powerful, so use them sparingly (and wisely) as well.  Oh, and I recommend
you not even tell your parents I sent them to you, because they would
probably get pissed at me." Wow, Roger thought, wondering what they were,
but afraid to look until he'd first read everything his uncle had to say on
the subject.

   "Inside both pouches is a powder.  The tribesman who gave them to me
says they're mixed from a variety of ingredients that are extremely hard to
find.  The purpose of the powder in the mostly-white pouch is to Pu'TashWa
(that means 'increase') whatever it's sprinkled on.  In the case of the
natives I encountered, it was most often used as a way to make more food
out of a little bit of food.  In my own experiments, though, I once found I
was able to make a large working boat out of a much smaller rough version
that I'd carved from a piece of wood.  I don't begin to understand HOW it
works, only that it DOES work, somehow.  Some crazy kind of voodoo magic, I
guess.  So as I say, use it sparingly, and watch out what you sprinkle it
on.

   "Only a pinch is required to work the magic.  Just sprinkle it on the
object you want to 'increase', say the word Pu'TashWa (poo-tah-shwah), then
step back.  If for some reason you need to 'decrease' whatever you've
'increased', then just sprinkle a pinch of the powder in the black pouch on
it and say the word Ti'TashWa (tee-tah-shwah).

   "And that's all there is to is.  Enjoy!

   "Remember that I love you, and that I'll be home to see you soon.

   "Yours, Uncle Ted"

   By the time Roger finished reading this, he had a sour look on his face.
How old did his uncle think he was -- six?  How could he possibly expect
him to believe in a magic powder that made things bigger?  Still, he did
like the hat ...  and the cool box ...  and even the pouches themselves
were kind of cool.  They'd be great to show off to his best friend Allen,
who always loved to hear stories about Uncle Ted.  He read the letter
through once more, smiled, put the small wooden box in the top drawer of
his dresser, then ran downstairs to show his parents the hat.



   * * *



   Two days later, it was New Year's Eve, and Roger was miserable once
again, this time for a different reason.  An hour ago, his parents had left
for a party.  They'd given him permission to have one friend over to ring
in the new year with, and he'd of course chosen Allen.  Meanwhile, his
older sister Brenda had left that afternoon for a ski trip in Vermont with
her friends.  This meant that he and Allen would have the house to
themselves the whole night -- something that rarely happened.  What's more,
Allen had arranged to buy some old Playboy magazines off of his cousin, and
he'd promised to smuggle those along in his backpack.  It was going to be a
blast ...  right up till the point a few minutes ago, when Allen called to
say that he had to stay home and babysit his little brother, because his
older sister had decided at the last minute to go to a party.

   So now, instead of having a great time with his best friend and some
Playboy magazines, Roger was looking forward to a long, boring night of
doing nothing but playing his crappy Nintendo and watching TV.

   Roger scowled at himself in his dresser mirror.  "I swear, if I didn't
have bad luck, I'd have no luck at all." He pulled the safari hat his uncle
had given him low on his head, trying to hide his eyes under the brim.  The
hat suddenly reminded him of the small wooden box.  He opened the top
drawer, removed the box, and walked over to the bed with it.  "Magic
powder," he mumbled to himself.  "Yeah, right."

   Still, it was a seductive idea, wasn't it?  Roger scanned the room, and
on a low shelf nearby saw a three-inch model motorcycle that he'd put
together and painted just last year, during a particularly rainy weekend.
He got to his feet, grabbed the model, and placed it in the middle of the
bedroom floor.  "This is stupid," he said.  "I can't even believe I'm doing
this." He reached into the mostly-white pouch, took a pinch of the powder,
knelt down, sprinkled it over the tiny motorcycle, then went back over to
the bed to sit and wait.  "Yeah.  Just as I thought.  Nothing."

   But then he remembered that he was supposed to say a magic word.  What
was it again?  "Poopshooter?  Pooshatta?" No, that wasn't it.  "Pooshatwa?
Pootashwa?" Suddenly, a glow bathed the small model, the air in the room
grew warm and starting swirling, and within a few seconds, a full-sized
motorcycle was parked on the floor in front of him.  It looked more or less
like the model -- the same color, the same basic style.  Yet unlike the
plastic model, this was clearly a working motorcycle -- it was made of
metal, had rubber wheels, an oily engine, moving parts.  "Holy shit," Roger
said.  He had no idea how to ride or even start such a bike, but after a
quick examination, he was sure that it would run perfectly if he tried to.
But since the bike barely fit in the room as it was, this would serve
nothing except to probably get grease and oil all over his floor, so he
didn't even try.

   Instead, he decided to test out the second powder.  Like before, he
sprinkled some on the motorcycle, this time using the other magic word,
"Titooshwa?  Titashwa?" That did the trick.  After a swirl of warm wind,
the bike suddenly drew in upon itself, shrinking quickly, until a few
seconds later there was nothing left on the floor but the same small model
he'd started with -- no more and no less.  "Holy fucking shit," he said,
and just sat there and smiled.

   Of course, just the one test wasn't enough to satisfy him.  Once again,
Roger's eyes scanned the room, passing over things like model cars and
planes (imagine what a mess THOSE would make), and settling finally on a
stuffed Bugs Bunny doll he'd had ever since he was little -- a prize he'd
won for tossing coins into glasses at the local carnival.  It was ragged
and musty, but he figured it would make a perfect guinea pig.  Again, he
went through all the motions, putting Bugs on the floor, sprinkling powder,
then saying the magic word.

   Seconds later, Bugs Bunny himself stood in the middle of the room.  Once
again, the powder had created an ideal version of the smaller item, not a
literal one.  Bugs was not a giant stuffed animal -- he was human-sized, to
be sure, but he was clearly a cartoon ...  except in three dimensions. 
And, perhaps not too surprisingly, the first words out of his mouth were,
"Mnyeh ...  what's up, Doc?"

   Roger almost didn't know what to do with himself, he was so tickled. 
Seeing Bugs up close like this was almost like meeting one of his heroes.
"Oh my god, you're Bugs Bunny!" He really wished Allen was here to see it
too.  If for no other reason, simply to convince him that he wasn't going
insane.

   Bugs pulled a carrot out of his pocket -- or rather, out of his skin,
from the spot where a pocket would be if rabbits actually wore pants -- and
began to munch on it noisily.  "You were expecting maybe the Easter Bunny?"

   Roger laughed outloud.  "Oh my god, this is the greatest thing ever!"

   Bugs, meanwhile, scratched his head and looked around the room.  "Hm. 
Now how did I get here?  I knew I shoulda took that left turn at
Albuquerque.  Oh well.  Back to the drawing board." With this, the large
cartoon rabbit jumped up into the air and began to spin in place.  Roger
had watched enough Looney Tunes to know what would happen next ...  and
that it would be a bad idea.  So before Bugs could burrow a hole down
through the floor and disappear, Roger sprinkled him with the reversing
powder and said the magic word.  And just like that, the smaller stuffed
version was back again, spinning to a stop on the floor.  He picked it up.
"Sorry, Bugs.  I don't think the real world is ready for you yet."

   Roger sat back down on the bed.  Clearly, it was a good idea to be
careful with the powder, and to think through all the possibilities and
ramifications before using it.  The model motorcycle had resulted in a very
real motorcycle.  The stuffed Bugs had resulted in a very real Bugs.  The
magic was not to be taken lightly.  After all, what if he sprinkled it on a
teddy bear, and a live bear was suddenly standing over him?  Or what if he
used it on a candle flame, and set the whole house on fire?  Then again,
what if he used it on one of his action figures, and brought Superman to
life?  That would be a good thing, right?

   And only then did the true potential of the magic powder occur to him.
Because if he could bring Bugs Bunny to life, and maybe Superman to life,
then what if it was possible to bring ...

   As soon as he'd wrapped his mind around this latest idea, Roger raced
out into the hall and into his sister Brenda's bedroom.  There, on a high
shelf, supported by a special stand, he found what he was looking for --
one of many Barbie dolls she'd collected as they were growing up.  It wore
a fancy pink gown and some jewelry around the neck.  He wasn't sure what
made this one special enough for Brenda to keep it on a stand, and frankly
he didn't care.  He just knew that he needed it.  Using the desk chair,
Roger reached up and grabbed the doll clumsily, then rushed with it back to
his room.

   He dropped it eagerly onto the floor, sprinkled the magic powder, said
the magic word, and stepped back, taking a seat on the bed.  Once again,
the result took only a few seconds.  And what a result it was!

   The life-sized Barbie towered in front of him, at least 6 feet tall,
very tan, and very real -- wearing a larger version of the pink gown she'd
worn as a doll.  He could see now that the material was somewhat glittery.
Falling downward from wide shoulder straps, it fit her hourglass frame
tightly from her ample chest down to her knees, where it then ruffled
outward like a fish's tail and touched the floor.  Likewise, her arms
puffed out as well, thanks to a pair of elbow-length gloves with long tufts
of pink fur flying out from them.  An ornate necklace with several dangling
triangles hung around her neck, fitting nicely in the swoop of the dress's
neckline, and above that slim neck, her face smiled down at him.

   She was beautiful, that was for sure -- large blue eyes, a wide smile,
naturally pink lips, and golden blonde hair that fell halfway down her
back. Every bit the "ideal" that Barbie had a reputation for being.  But as
was usually the case with women he met, Roger could feel his eyes being
draw downward, away from her face, back to her chest, which was ...  just
plain HUGE, from the looks of it.  Or maybe it was the fact that her waist
was so thin and her legs were so long.  Whatever the reason, it made for a
wonderful sight.  And he probably would have sat and stared at them all day
like that, if Barbie hadn't suddenly started to speak.

   "Hello," she said, her voice cheerful and high.

   Roger reluctantly glanced back up at her face.  "Hi."

   "My name's Barbie, what's yours?"

   "Roger."

   "Nice to meet you, Roger!" She smiled widely, as if genuinely pleased to
meet him.

   "You too.  Likewise, I mean." Exactly how did one carry on a
conversation with a doll?

   "So what will we be doing today?" she asked.

   "Um.  I don't know.  I didn't really think about it yet."

   "Will Ken or Skipper be joining us?"

   "Well ..." Roger thought for a moment about digging through Brenda's
closet to find a Skipper doll, but decided that maybe he already had his
hands full trying to figure out what to do with only one living doll.  As
for Ken, that was just out of the question.  "No.  No, I think it'll be
just us today."

   "Excellent!" Barbie said, practically bubbling.  He had a feeling she
would have reacted exactly the same if he'd told her they would be swimming
in a tank full of live piranhas.  "Will you need to change my clothes
first?"

   "Need to what?" Roger felt himself blush, and knew it was a stupid
response.

   "Change my clothes.  I'm used to having my clothes changed often."

   "Oh." Of course, he thought.  She's a Barbie doll.  What else does a
little girl do with a Barbie doll but change her clothes all the time? 
"Um, sure.  We can change your clothes if you want."

   "Excellent!" Excellent wasn't the word for it.  She turned her back to
him.  "Will you unzip me?

   Roger stood, and quickly realized that she was a foot taller than him.
Clearly, wherever Barbie dolls came from, they took lots of vitamins. 
Pushing her long hair aside, he found a zipper at the top of the dress,
then pulled it slowly down, all the way to her waist.  About halfway down,
he realized that he wasn't seeing any bra strap, and his heart nearly
skipped a beat.  "There you go," he said, and took a step back.

   Barbie, meanwhile, had already removed the necklace and feathery gloves
and dropped them to the floor.  Now, with her back still to him, she
reached up and pulled the tight dress off her shoulders, brought it quickly
to her waist, then wriggled it down, over her ass and down her legs.  Roger
got a brief glimpse of her breasts from the back, and his dick went
instantly hard in his sweatpants.  Before he knew it, she was stepping out
of the pool of dress at her feet, kicking it to one side.  Then she turned
to face him again, and Roger's entire life changed forever.

   As amazing as she had looked in the dress, the former doll looked even
more breath-taking out of it.  Her body was perfect, at least by Roger's
standards.  Her skin was flawless, her curves lithe and smooth, her waist
paper-thin, her tummy flat, her legs went on forever, and her tits ... 
huge and round and perfectly shaped.  Each was almost the size of her head.
A split-second before she faced him, Roger had wondered if she would be
anatomically correct.  As it turned out, she was.  There were indeed wide
pink nipples at the tips of her breasts, and a neat patch of blonde pubic
hair between her legs.  At the bottom of those legs, she wore her only
piece of remaining clothing -- a pair of tall, pink heels that probably
added another 5 inches or so to her height.  She bent down, as if to remove
them, but Roger stopped her.

   "No," he said.  "That's okay.  You can keep those on."

   "Excellent!" Barbie stood again, her tits jiggling.

   "In fact, I think the outfit you're wearing now is perfect," he said,
smiling.

   "Just the heels?" she asked, unfazed.  "What kind of adventure will it
be?"

   "Um.  The kind where you stay naked and ...  and we touch each other."

   "Excellent!  That sounds like fun!"

   Oh my god, Roger thought.  Could this be more perfect?  Now, of course,
he was happy not to have Allen here.  Not that he didn't like his friend
... but he didn't think he'd want to share this opportunity with anybody
else.  "Cool," he said, grinning like an idiot.

   "Are you going to take your clothes off now?" Barbie asked.

   "Actually ...  I thought maybe you'd do it for me," he said.

   "You mean I get to change YOUR clothes?" she asked, as if it were new
concept to her.

   "Well, you get to take them off anyway."

   She thought about this for a moment.  He was sure he knew what she'd
say, and he even began to wince at the sound of it.  But as it turned out,
she didn't say, "Excellent!" Instead, she used the same word he had a few
seconds before: "Cool." Clearly, whatever she was and wherever she'd come
from, she was capable of adapting..

   Roger stood in front of Barbie, unable to take his eyes off of her
massive tits, which -- because of the difference in their heights -- were
practically in his face.  And then, as she reached down to remove his
t-shirt, they actually WERE in it, if only for a few seconds.  As she urged
his arms up, so she could pull the shirt off him, her tits jiggled and
pressed against his face, warm and soft.  Then the t-shirt was gone, and
she pulled back again.  "There," she said.  "Now the pants." She knelt down
on the floor, grabbed the elastic top of his sweatpants, along with his
underwear, and began to yank them down as a unit.  As she manuvered around
his 4-inch erection, she again seemed unfazed, as if it were the most
natural thing in the world ...  even when it bounced once off the side of
her face.  She simply finished the task of removing the pants, leaving him
naked, then stood and took a step back.  "There," she said, smiling
innocently.  "Now you're naked too."

   Roger glanced down from her huge tits to his stiff erection.  He wasn't
sure what he'd been expecting along the lines of a reaction from her about
his condition ...  but he was even less sure of what to make of NO reaction
at all.  Instead, Barbie stuck religiously to the plan as he'd outlined it
for her.

   "Is this the part of the adventure where we start touching each other?"
she asked.

   "Um.  Yeah, sure," he said.

   Barbie's arms hung casually to the sides, and she stood there wearing
nothing more than the pair of tall pink heels.  She subtly thrust her chest
out and pulled her shoulders back, crossing one knee over the other -- it
was the kind of pose Roger had seen beauty pageant contestants use before,
on TV.  She looked him in the eye, her face bubbly.  "Would you like to
start by touching me first?"

   "Hell yeah," he said, and stepped forward before she could rescind the
offer.  He got right up next to her body, put his hands out in front of him
...  and then couldn't even think of where to begin.  But it didn't take
him long to make the decision.  If there was one thing in this world Roger
had always wanted to touch more than anything else, it was a woman's boobs.
So he reached his hands up to Barbie's, took one tit in each hand, and
squeezed it, gently at first, and then when she didn't wince or react in
any way, squeezed a little harder, digging his fingers in.  His hands were
so much smaller than her melons that he almost couldn't get a good grip. 
He began to run his palms over the surface of each breast, as if it were a
crystal ball made of warm flesh.  And as he passed over her
perfectly-shaped nipples, they immediately sprang to life, the tips growing
quickly to the size of large marbles.  Having never seen a woman get
"erect" in this way, Roger was surprised a bit, but pleasantly so.  "Cool,"
he said.

   "Is the adventure going well so far?" Barbie asked.

   "Very well, yes," Roger said, aware that his cock was filled with more
blood than it ever had been in his life.  Still fixated on her chest, he
knew what he HAD to do next, and just jumped right in, pushing his face
forward and burying it in Barbie's abundant cleavage, as he continue to
grope and rub her tits with his hands.  Meanwhile, he brought his hips
closer to hers, which brought his erection into contact with the inside of
one of her warm thighs and sent a momentary shiver of pleasure through his
body.  This made him realize that if he didn't back away for a second,
things were going to end faster than he wanted them to.  Grudgingly, he
pulled away, and took a step back.

   The sudden release of Barbie's tits caused them to jiggle, a beautiful
sight.  However, it brought a somewhat confused expression to the living
doll's face.  Glancing down at her chest, she bounced slightly on the balls
of her feet, thereby making her tits jiggle again.  The now-familiar smile
spread across her face as she lifted it to look Roger directly in the eyes,
her expression as gleeful as a child on Christmas.  "Cool!" Then she went
right back to shaking and bouncing and jiggling her massive jugs for all
they were worth.

   As he enjoyed the show, Roger said, "Not that I'm complaining, but why
is that so cool to you?"

   "Because I'm not used to them moving like this.  Usually, they're so ...
motionless."

   "Oh.  Right.  When you're smaller.  I get it.  They're just big bumps
then."

   But Barbie almost didn't seem to hear him.  She'd moved on from simple
shaking to hopping up and down, giggling over how much her tits bounced as
she did so.  Then she fixed her feet, and began to twist back and forth at
the waist, which sent her boobs swinging left and right.  "How wonderful!"
she said.

   "You have no idea," Roger replied.  Unable to resist any longer, he
reached down and started to slowly rub his throbbing erection -- not enough
to get himself off, but just enough to enjoy the moment.

   After a few more minutes, Barbie finally seemed to get bored of her
newfound ability, and took notice of what Roger was doing.  "What is that
you're playing with?" she asked.

   Roger paused at touching himself to glance down.  "This?  It's my ... 
penis.  Why?"

   "I've never seen anything like it before."

   "Never?  But ...  what about Ken?"

   She giggled.  "Well, I've seen Ken with his clothes off many times, but
he has nothing like that!"

   "Oh.  Yeah, I guess that makes sense.  Kind of." As a doll, Ken was NOT
anatomically correct.

   "What does it do?" Barbie asked.

   "Do?  Um.  It's kind of like your boobs.  It just ...  moves and stuff."

   "And why do you touch it like that?" she asked.

   Roger became aware that his cock was still in his hand.  "Oh, um ... 
well ...  because it feels good."

   "The same way it felt good when you touched my boobs?"

   "Yeah, I guess so.  I don't have boobs, though." He snickered.  "So I
can't be sure."

   Barbie continued to stare at his erection, making him a bit
self-conscious.

   "Did you ...  um ...  want to touch it?" Roger asked.

   "Yes, I think I would like that very much.  May I?

   "Um.  Sure.  Feel free."

   "Excellent!" Barbie said, resuming use of her favorite word, then
stepped forward and fell to her knees.  At first, she just eyed his cock
up, moving her head to one side, then the other, as if to get a better look
at it.  Then, bringing her face very close to it, she reached her hand out
tentatively, and touched it with one finger.  Then she touched it again,
this time pushing the head down and bit and releasing, making it twang. 
Which brought her no end of delight, apparently, because she started to
giggle.  "Your penis is so cool!"

   Roger blushed.  "Well ...  thanks.  I like to think so."

   Barbie twanged it a few more times.  "Are all penises as fun as yours
is?"

   "Um.  I'm not sure.  I've only ever played with mine.  And you know, you
don't have to keep calling it a 'penis'.  That's kind of the technical word
for it."

   "Oh?  What should I call it then?" she asked.

   "Well ...  a dick.  Or a woody.  Or a ...  a cock, I guess."

   She giggled again.  "Cock?  That's such a dirty sounding word.  I think
I like it." Barbie gripped his erection with one hand, while examining his
balls with the other.  There was nothing particularly sexual about the way
she did either of these things ...  but that didn't mean they weren't
turning him on incredibly.

   "Really?  You mean you like ...  you know, dirty things?"

   Barbie seemed to have to think about this for a moment.  "I think I do.
I'm not sure.  It seems like I've never really had a reason to think of
things like ...  like touching cocks before.  But all of a sudden, it seems
very important to me.  I wonder why that is?"

   "I'm not sure," Roger said.  "Maybe it has something to do with the fact
that you weren't really a woman before.  Just a doll.  Now that you're
actually ...  you know, real ...  it's all catching up with you?"

   Barbie shrugged.  "I guess you're right." She didn't seem particularly
interested in talking about the metaphysical details of her transformation
into flesh and blood, though.  Instead, she looked up at him, her eyes wide
and her face right next to his erection, and said, quite innocently, "I
really like your cock, Roger."

   "D-do you?" he asked.

   "Oh yes.  Very much.  I feel like ...  it belongs somewhere.  I'm not
sure where, though."

   "I have some ideas," Roger said, smirking.

   "You do?  Do they involve the hole between my legs?  For some reason, it
feels ...  odd."

   "Odd good or odd bad?" he asked.

   "A little of both.  Bad ...  but only because it doesn't feel as good as
it should.  I think."

   Roger swallowed hard.  "Well ...  maybe we could try --"

   But Barbie finished the sentence for him.  "Putting your cock into it?"

   "Um.  Yeah.  Definitely."

   She beamed at the idea.  "Oh, that would be such fun, Roger!  Can we do
it right now?"

   "Sure.  Of course.  Just, um, stand up I guess."

   This she did, with the usual result that her tits jiggled in his face
again.  "And then what?"

   "Then ...  um ...  lay down on the bed."

   "Okay," she chirped, and went to the bed.  "On my back, or on my front?"

   "Well, I think it can be done both ways.  But I've never done it before,
so I'm not sure which way is best." Roger thought about it, and decided
that he'd like to be able to see her from the front.  "On your back, I
guess."

   Barbie did as she was told, lying down on the bed with her hands at her
sides and her legs slightly spread.  The sight was almost funny, because it
came pretty close to the way she'd look as a doll in that same position. 
And even on her back, her tits remained rather perky.  They lay like two
huge mounds on her chest.  "There," she said.  "Now, Roger.  Come and stick
your cock into me right away, so I can learn how it feels."

   "Sure thing," Roger said, unable to resist such an offer.  Was there a
13 year old in the history of mankind who had EVER considering resisting
such an offer?  He somehow doubted it.

   Roger approached the bed, where Barbie had now begun to squirm a bit. 
He climbed over the nearest leg, then pushed them apart a bit more, until
he was kneeling between them.  He could just barely see her face over the
obstacle of her tits, but he could see it -- she was smiling brightly. 
Roger brought himself forward, putting the weight of his body on his hands,
so that the tops of her jutting tits were in his face, and lined his cock
up with the entrance to her pussy.  Then he paused.  "Are you ...  um ...
ready?" he asked.

   "Oh yes," Barbie said cheerily.  "I look forward to having your cock
inside me, Roger."

   "Okay then." Carefully, not a hundred percent sure of how to go about
it, Roger moved his erection forward.  It met with resistance at first,
until he realized he was maybe aiming a bit too high.  So he brought it
back and lowered, then pressed forward again.  This time, it found
something warm and wet, which certainly had to be right place.  Slowly,
awed by the moment, he slid himself into her, amazed by how good it felt.

   Barbie echoed his thought.  "Roger, that feels ...  excellent!"

   "Yes," he said, still sliding in.  "It does."

   "I never thought anything could feel this good," she added.

   He laughed at her over-eagerness.  "I know.  Me either."

   "Your cock feels as if ...  as if it's growing inside of me."

   "Maybe a little," Roger said, as he finally buried the last of his shaft
in her, then stopped.

   "Are you sure?" Barbie asked.  "It feels much bigger now than when you
started."

   "I'm pretty sure," he replied, then slid his cock back out of her, again
slowly, concentrating as hard as he could on not cumming too soon.  Pulling
it out took a bit longer than he expected, though.  That's strange, he
thought.  When it finally was all the way out of her, head and all, he
brought himself up to a kneeling position again, and glanced down.  What he
saw made his mouth drop open for a moment.

   "See," Barbie said.  "I told you."

   Sure enough, she was right.  His dick HAD grown while it was inside of
her.  And clearly not just as a result of being so excited.  Whereas before
he'd been about about 4 inches long and not terribly wide, now he had to be
at least 8 inches, with almost twice the width to go along with it. 
Before, it had looked like a small hot dog.  Now, it looked more like a
large sausage.  "But ...  how?" Roger mumbled to himself.  An odd side
effect of the growth powder, maybe?  It had to be.  What else could
possibly explain such a sudden growth spurt?

   Barbie suddenly put things into perspective.  "Who cares how?" she said,
giggling.  "Just put it in me!"

   Roger smiled.  She was right again, of course.  For whatever strange
reason in the universe, he was in a bed with a picture-perfect woman -- who
used to be a doll -- and he inexplicably had a picture-perfect cock.  Why
ask why?  The time had come to stop asking questions ...  and just roll
with the situation.  "The word I think you're looking for," he said, "is
'fuck'."

   "Fuck?" she replied.  "What does that mean?"

   "Me putting my cock into you.  That's fucking.  I'm about to fuck you."

   Barbie smiled.  "Oh yes.  I like the sound of that.  It's naughty ... 
like cock."

   "So ...  tell me then." He suddenly felt bold.  "Tell me what you want
me to do," he said.

   "I want you to fuck me, Roger.  I want you to fuck me with your big
cock. Right now."

   That was all he needed.  Like a tiger pouncing on its prey, he dropped
his weight to his hands again, and safe in the knowledge that she was
already lubricated, slid his new improved erection into her pussy, right
down to the hilt.  It felt a bit like heaven.  Then he pulled himself back,
and before the head could pop out again, thrust forward, a bit more
forcefully this time.  Then out.  Then in.

   "Ohhh," Barbie said, squirming beneath him.  "Yes.  Just like that."

   In and out Roger went, his brain humming with the intensity of the
sensation, the pleasure building to a hum in his groin, his hips, and down
his legs.  After several minutes of this, he knew he wouldn't be able to
last much longer, and suspected that the only reason he'd lasted this long
had more to do with his new cock's stamina and not his own.  Before it
grew, he'd been about 5 seconds away from blasting off.  Maybe he should
slow down?

   As if she could read his mind, Barbie suddenly began to thrash beneath
him.  "Oh, god, YES!  Fuck me, Roger!  Harder, yes!  It feels ...  it feels
...  soooooOOOOOHHHH!!!!" Clearly, she was peaking as well.  And so he
decided not to slow down after all.  Instead, he pushed forward with
renewed vigor, putting all of his weight -- such as it was -- behind him,
going faster, slamming every inch of his new monster cock into her.  He
buried his face in the tops of her firm tits and fucked her for all he was
worth, as her shrieks of pleasure grew to a fever pitch.

   Roger could no longer feels his own legs by the time he started to cum.
Waves of pleasure crashed across his body -- a hundred times more intense
than any jerkoff session he'd ever had.  He thought he could feel it
shooting out of him like a fire hose.  And as Barbie's own squeals of
delight began to fade, once he was sure that she'd gotten what she needed,
he decided he had to see how much he was actually cumming.  He rose to his
knees again, and pulled out of her.

   Immediately, he could see that the growth had not stopped.  If his cock
had been 8 inches before, it was more like foot long now, and as wide
around as one of his thin forearms, while the purple head was about the
size of a racquetball.  And just as he'd thought, cum was spewing out of it
in huge, thick streams.  His first instinct was to reach down and grab it,
to keep it from hitting the sheets or the wall.  He made sure it splatted
on Barbie instead, whose smiling face revealed that she was all too happy
to be a target.  With expert precision, he nailed her stomach, her face,
and her tits.  Mostly her tits, though, because Barbie seemed to take
delight in rubbing it all over them, using it as a lotion to squeeze and
massage them, rubbing it onto her huge puffy nipples.  "More, Roger. 
Please!"

   And for as long as he could, Roger continued to pump his seed onto her,
until finally, gradually, after about a minute, the orgasm began to fade.
The cum trickled to a stream.  But not before he'd splooged -- literally --
over a half gallon of it across Barbie's torso.  Where it had all come
from, he had no idea.  Once his cock had twitched for the last time, he
practically fell onto the bed beside her, and laying on his back, stared up
at the ceiling.  "Wow," was all he could think to say, following it up a
few seconds later with, "That was ...  intense."

   "Yes," Barbie agreed, smiling.  "Very much so." She was still smearing
the cum across her chest.

   "I'd love to take full credit for it ...  but I think some of it was
you. Somehow."

   "It was?"

   Roger glanced down at his dick, which was not only growing soft, but had
noticeably shrunk as well.  While still a snake compared what he'd been
when he woke up that morning, he clearly wasn't a foot long any more
either. "Yeah, definitely," he replied.  "I think there's something about
being inside of you that does it."

   "Oh." She reached down and stroked gently at his dwindling erection,
which didn't seem to have energy enough to rise again just yet.  "Yes, I
see what you mean." Already, it was smaller even than it had been during
the first growth spurt.  "But ...  this is a lucky thing for me, isn't it?"

   Roger laughed at this.  "Yeah, I guess you're right.  What guy would
ever want to cheat on you, knowing that?" Then he looked over her, at her
perfect body beside him on the bed, and realized what he'd just said.  "Who
am I kidding?  What guy would ever be stupid enough to cheat on you ... 
period."

   "What does 'cheat' mean?" Barbie asked, quite innocently.

   "Um.  Never mind.  It's not important." After all, she was a doll. 
Short of Ken, who was she ever going to have a relationship with that would
allowing cheating to occur in any real sense of the word?

   Suddenly, Roger heard something terrible.  A car door slamming outside.
"Shit."

   "Shit?" Barbie repeated.

   "Somebody's home," he said.  "Probably my parents."

   Barbie lit up at the sound of this.  "Excellent.  I would like to meet
them!"

   "Um.  No.  I don't think that would be possible." He climbed over her
cum-stained body and out of bed, his eyes quickly scanning the room for
where he'd put the magic powders.

   "Why not?" she asked.

   "Because they wouldn't understand." Roger saw the pouches on the floor
beside the bed.

   "Understand what?"

   "Any of it," he said.  "Just trust me."

   He grabbed the reversing powder, opened the mouth of the black pouch,
and got his pinch.

   "Wait," Barbie said, seeming distressed.  "What are you going to do?"

   "I have to ...  you know ...  change you back to what you were."

   "But what if I don't want to be changed back?" she protested.

   "You have to," Roger said.  "It's the only way.  At least right now."

   Barbie sat up in the bed.  "But ...  I thought you liked me."

   "I do like you.  That's not the point." He readied the powder, trying to
recall the magic word.  Toowasha?  Tittawa?

   "Then why?  Don't you want to fuck me again?"

   "Oh, definitely.  And I will.  I mean ...  we will.  This won't be the
last time, believe me."

   She seemed to brighten at this.  "It won't?"

   "No way.  You're ...  perfect.  It was all perfect.  I want to do it
again.  Just not right now."

   "Because of your parents?" she asked.

   "Yes." Titashwa, he thought, the word finally coming to him.

   "Because they wouldn't understand?"

   "Yes, exactly." He heard the sound of the front door opening, and knew
he couldn't wait much longer.

   Barbie shrugged.  "Well ...  I guess it's okay then."

   Roger smiled at her.  "Thank you."

   She smiled back.  "Thank you too."

   "I'll see you again soon," he said.

   And with no further delay, Roger sprinkled the reversing powder on her
and said the magic word.

   After a swirl of warm wind, Barbie shrunk before his eyes, leaving
behind just a naked doll.  Before Roger could breathe a sigh of relief,
though, he glanced over and saw her pile of clothes in the middle of the
floor -- still human sized.  "Shit." Quickly, he raced over to them and
sprinkled a little more powder.  "Titashwa!" Then they too shrunk back to
doll size.  He scooped them up, grabbed Barbie off the bed, and threw it
all -- including the magic powders -- into one of his drawers.  Later, of
course, he'd have to dress the doll again, and put it back up on his
sister's shelf.  But she wouldn't be back for another day, so he had some
time yet to worry about that.

   Roger's first priority was to get dressed.  As he did, he noticed that
now his dick had dwindled back to its all-too-normal size.  Oh well.  He
figured it was too much to hope that some of the magic effect might have
stuck with him forever.  Mere moments after he was back in his clothes, a
knock fell on the door to his bedroom.

   "Roger, honey, we're home." It was his mother.

   "Why so soon?" he asked, as if nothing were amiss.

   "Your father got some food poisoning or something.  He's not feeling too
well."

   "Oh.  Sorry." After doing a quick scan of the room to make sure nothing
was out of place, Roger went to the door and opened it.  "Is he going to be
okay?"

   His mother rolled her eyes.  "He'll live.  I told him not to eat the
shrimp.  Where's Allen?"

   He shrugged.  "He couldn't come."

   She looked empathetically disappointed.  "Too bad.  Well, you can watch
the ball drop with us, if you want.  I'll cut up some cheese and crackers."

   "Sure.  I guess so." Roger glanced over his shoulder at the drawer where
Barbie was.  "It's not like I have anything else to do," he said.  Not
right now anyway, he thought.

   As he followed his mother downstairs, Roger wondered if it was possible
that he'd dreamed everything that had happened to him that night.  He
didn't remember falling asleep ...  or waking up.  And it had all felt real
enough.  He supposed the only way he'd know for sure was by trying it
again, the next time he was home alone.

   And that day, he thought -- smirking to himself -- could not come soon
enough.


   FINI