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He followed her upstairs.

Her room was bare, with a few picture frames quickly turned over as she walked in ahead of him, and a blown up poster of their class graduating picture over her bed. There was a shelf of fancy leather-bound books, but no titles on the spines -- although he had thought he had seen titles with gold lettering when he first entered.

Alex stood still while he looked at her room. She only just remembered to get the ring to erase the story titles. What else had she forgotten? She couldn't make tea without water. She couldn't get water without leaving. Mark couldn't be alone in her room. What if he saw something else or, worse, left? She thought, ‘Ring, put fresh water in the heater!’

‘Done.’

“Something wrong?” Mark asked.

“Um, no! I ... I'm not used to having ... you ... here, you know,” she said, laughing nervously as she plugged in the water heater. She put tea in the mugs. “I really think you’ll like it,” she said, while thinking, “Ring, once we both drink the tea, his muscles will start getting weaker and smaller, while mine get bigger and stronger, until I think ’stop’.”

“Um, ok. I’ve never been into tea, but I’ll try it.” The room was small and she was standing very close to him. He couldn't stop looking at her chest. He looked away to be less obvious but that felt worse, and every time he looked back at her his eyes went right back to her chest. The water was heating noisily. “Um, well, is this your favorite?”

“Yeah. It’s, um, a special blend for um special friends.” She wanted to die. Why did she say such stupid things?

She turned to check on the water, which was just bubbling. The twist of her body made her bust stand out even more. She caught him staring. He looked down. There was an awkward silence.

“I guess we’ve changed a lot since we used to play together,” he said.

He immediately regretted how that sounded, but before he could change the topic she said, “Um, well, yeah, girls’ bodies really change. Remember when we were, like 11, and all of a sudden I was, I don't know, a head taller than you? Remember playing basketball? I kept beating you.”

Mark looked at her, recalling how she’d shot up to as tall as she was now that year, while he was still more than a foot shorter. “Oh yeah. That summer.”

“That was fun,” Alex said and pulled her t-shirt down again to smooth it. “I saw you lots, and I liked being able to beat a boy. You especially.” She laughed nervously.

“It was only that summer,” he replied defensively.

Alex nodded and sighed heavily, enjoying the new feelings of two extra movements on her chest, and, again, Mark’s eyes.

The water was boiling. Steam fogged the window.

Alex poured the water and handed Mark a mug.

“Tea’s really not my thing,” he said doubtfully.

“You’ll be surprised. Really,” she insisted. She took a long gulp and smiled.

Mark wondered what exactly he was doing in her room. He could just put the mug down and leave, but being in his room by himself, reading his stash of stories or looking at images, didn’t appeal to him now. Going to see Pam felt even worse. So what was wrong with having a chat and a mug of tea with a girl with an oversexed body who claimed she was Alex York? He took a sip. It wasn't that bad. He took a swallow. Alex was watching him closely, probably wanting his opinion on the tea. She was clearly interested in him. He looked once again at her chest and let his eyes linger. With such big tits, it was amazing they didn't sag at all. Now that they were closer they actually seemed even a bit larger and firmer than he had first thought.

“Do you mind if we, you know, sit down, together, while we drink?” she asked.

He shrugged. “OK.”

She sat on the bed and he sat a few inches away.

“Was losing to a girl that bad?” she asked. “We kind of stopped being friends after that summer. Were you mad at me?”

He had been mad, but he couldn't admit why. It wasn't losing; it was some other, very new sensations he got when they played, when she won. Was that summer the reason he liked stories of female muscle and dominance so much? Or was his interest a pre-existing one, part of his DNA? Was that why he played her again and again, even though her height, long arms and surprising, and most important, somewhat maturer strength compared with his still pre-pubescent muscles resulted in loss after loss? And why he avoided her afterwards?

“No! Of course not.”

“Oh, that’s good. Because it really gave ME a thrill. You know, I wish girls were stronger than boys. We SHOULD be taller. We should always have bigger, stronger muscles, like the way it was with us that summer.”

“What?” His body went rigid.

She looked down and laughed. Her arm was much thicker now and her tee was getting very tight around her chest, clearly showing the shape of her breasts. He was just looking at was her chest, constantly looking at it, but soon he’d notice her arms too and the rest of her growing body.

“Why not? Female bodies are better than male bodies in so many other ways. We live longer, we have better immunity, we have more endurance, we handle stress better. Why shouldn't we be physically stronger too? It makes no sense that boys are better in just that one way.”