Mighty morphin' Amazon Cheerleaders 
By Lingster the Great 
Cheerleaders growing huge breasts and becoming very strong 
 

If you're a minor or don't get a kick out of reading about cheerleaders  
growing huge breasts and becoming twice as strong as their boyfriends,  
go to the next post and don't read this. Besides, there's no sex.  
  
So proclaimeth Lingster the Great, humble author of this peerless  
and truly wondrous story.  
  
And I don't want any of you closet perverts, getting your rocks off  
surfing the net, to get any funny ideas about publishing this in any  
magazines or anyplace but the newsgroups and their archives. Just  
because I'm anonymous doesn't mean I don't have rights. Just like a  
superhero. Superman and Green Lantern ain't got nothin' on me, so I  
don't want to see any copyright violations, dig?  
  
  
Who the hell is "Donovan" anyway?  
  
And now back to our story.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 M I G H T Y M O R P H I N' A M A Z O N C H E E R L E A D E R S  
  
  
  
  
===================T R A C E Y ' S D I A R Y=========================  
  
=======================P R I V A T E!!!================================  
  
October 12, 1996  
  
Dear Diary,  
  
I haven't been writing to you for very long, but I have a story I need  
to tell you. Putting it all down on paper isn't the smart thing to do,  
but I feel a tremendous compulsion to write it. I just can't help  
myself. Maybe I should've eaten more of the "Smart Powder".  
  
Over the last few weeks, I've told you about my friends Karen and Mary  
Margaret. Our lives have changed so much over the last year, It's hard  
to believe we're just barely old enough to drive! But if you think  
that's hard to believe, well, this story will blow your mind.  
  
I rarely see my two friends anymore, except on television. Mary  
Margaret just got a role on _BeachWatch_ after half a season as the  
letter-turner on _Wheel of Luck_. Everybody's calling her "Maggie  
Mams". Karen's also on TV, using the name "Tittania" (sic) on  
_American_Centurions_. I took the happy middle, crowned last May as  
Miss Fitness North America, and just finished my encore _Playbob_  
Pictorial and first _Sports Illuminated_ Swimsuit Edition.  
  
But you know all that already.  
  
None of the tabloid reporters seem to have picked up on the fact that  
the three most amazingly developed 17-year-old girls in America are all  
from the same town in New Jersey - not yet, anyway. Sooner or later  
they will, though, and then the shit'll hit the fan. The Water & Sewer  
Department will be selling the tap water for 20 bucks a gallon,  
probably.  
  
It all started in June of last year (1995), at the beginning of summer  
cheerleading practice. Karen, Mary Margaret and I were, amazingly  
enough, the three smallest, scrawniest, and puniest girls on the  
cheerleading squad (Karen most of all - tho' at least she had large-ish  
breasts!). Our cheerleading coach, Mrs. Armstrong, wanted the squad to  
perform a four- level pyramid at the Homecoming Football game in  
October. There was a problem, however, in that three of our biggest  
girls had just graduated. We still had Carla, who'd been a gymnast  
until she'd had a growth spurt. She had big muscles for a teenage girl  
(or so they seemed at the time), and at 5'8" she was pretty tall, but  
there was only one of her. What we needed were four strong girls for  
the bottom row, three fairly robust ones for the row above that, and  
then three waifs for the top two rows. Waifs we had aplenty, mes  
petites and I were well aware of that, but of amazons we had only one.  
And let me tell you, Karen, Maggie and I were getting pretty tired of  
being dropped by the weaklings (though not so weak as we three) below.  
  
Karen suggested that we go out bicycling on the weekend coming up, and  
Maggie and I agreed. Maggie and I both knew that Karen was on the  
rebound from breaking up with her boyfriend (he'd gotten a little rough  
with her on their last date), so we agreed. Normally Karen went out  
mountain- biking alone, but it was reasonable to see why she might want  
company.  
  
150 years of railroad consolidations, dear Diary, have left Central  
Jersey ideal for bicycling. Abandoned rail beds crisscross the state,  
and Karen suggested a route that would take us about 30 miles north on  
an old spur that runs up through farm country in the general direction  
of New Brunswick.  
  
We enjoyed a nice slow ride, but I couldn't help but feel that Karen was  
up to something. When Karen said we'd reached our half-way point, we  
got off our bicycles and had our lunch.  
  
As we ate, Karen told us a little bit about the clearing we were in. Up  
ahead about a half mile, she said, another rail line had once crossed  
this one. A small town, now long gone, had sprang up to handle the  
cargo transfer. The town hung on for a while, under the name  
"Coolieville" - so named because of the large number of Chinese  
immigrants who remained after the railroad left. There was a circle of  
mystics who also lived here - some Chinese, some of European and  
African ancestry - and they studied Oriental mysticism and the  
properties of herbs and rare minerals on a person's "chi". When Mary  
Margaret asked what a "chi" was, Karen explained that it was like a  
person's soul or essence. I asked what had happened to the town, and  
she said she wasn't precisely sure - there had been a fire. I started  
to ask her how she knew so much about the mystics but not about the  
fire, but she shushed me and stood up.  
  
I knew she was up to something, but what happened next surprised me.  
  
Karen stood up and took off her windbreaker. Then she took off her  
sweat- shirt. Her t-shirt was next. And then she reached behind her  
back, unclasped her brassiere and let us bask in her glory. Now I'm no  
lesbian, but those were some nice breasts, let me tell you. As big as  
they were, on a slender girl who didn't quite top the 5-foot mark,  
well, they were spectacular. Then she arched her back, raised her arms  
straight out from her shoulders and said, "C-Cups."  
  
I could hear Maggie breathing heavily, almost lustfully, next to me.  
Getting over my initial shock, I said, "So you've got bigger breasts  
than us, Karen, what's the point, what are you doing!?"  
  
This isn't verbatim, but it's pretty close to what she said:  
  
"I don't just have *bigger* breasts than you, Tracey. You two have no  
breasts at all. My breasts started growing last summer, right? By  
September I was on the varsity squad and by October I was the  
Sophomore Class Homecoming Queen. And that's not all. I improved my  
SAT scores by 300 points from the first time I took them in November,  
and the second time in February. Growing breasts is one thing, but  
didn't you wonder how I got so much smarter? How I went from good  
student to class genius? Flat to fabulous? Scrawny to spectacular?  
Both times in just three months?"  
  
"Dumb luck?", I responded.  
  
She put her clothes back on, smiled, and said, "Wouldn't you like to  
know?", and started running like hell for the edge of the clearing.  
Maggie and I, of course, got up and ran after her.  
  
As we came around a bend in the deer trace Karen had run down, we saw  
and heard an old iron cellar door slam shut about 10 yards off into the  
woods.  
  
We walked over to the door and lifted it up. Mostly corroded away, it  
wasn't very heavy. There were winding steps leading down, two  
flashlights on the top step, and a note that said "Follow the Steps to  
the NEW YOU!" I could hear footsteps far below, echoing eerily. For  
the first time I realized we were standing in the middle of what  
must've been the first floor of a house, long ago burned to the ground.  
  
"C'mon Chickens!", I heard faintly from below. Picking up a flashlight  
and smirking at Maggie I said, "Well, let's go."  
  
We took our time getting down there. I counted the steps, they were  
each about 9 inches high. We finally hit bottom after about 300 steps.  
"How far underground are we?", Mary Margaret asked. "About 225 feet  
down." I responded. "Shit," was her measured response.  
  
I shined the light around, Diary, and realized we were in a vaulted  
room, about 40 feet by 60. We found a freight elevator near the  
stairway, but debris was blocking the shaft.  
  
We called out for Karen, but there was no response, so we began walking  
towards the only door, in the middle of the far wall. Karen had left us  
pretty good flashlights, but try and imagine, Diary, how black and dark  
this room was, more than 20 stories underground. It was damp, smelly,  
and cold, too. And I was scared shitless.  
  
When we were only a few steps from the door, it flew open! Karen came  
flying through and sprawled on the floor, coughing and shrieking in  
pain. "My...BRA!! Get it!!! OFF!!!" She screamed. I bent down, and  
reaching up her back, moved to unclasp her brassiere. Once I had the  
flashlight on it, I could see there was blood all over Karen's bra, and  
cuts in her sides where the bra had dug in. I pulled the bloody thing  
off, to Karen's obvious relief.  
  
"What happened? Did you get it caught on something?", I asked.  
  
"No," Karen panted weakly, and then she started to get up. She was  
still in obvious pain, but nonetheless wearing a shit-eating grin. I  
couldn't figure it out for a second, but then it registered. "You're  
as tall as me!", I shouted.  
  
"And getting taller by the minute," she replied.  
  
"I thought you said it took about three months to work," I asked.  
  
She replied, "Yes, but you get about 25% of the change in the first few  
minutes."  
  
I almost shrieked. "Twenty-five percent!? But you're three, no, FOUR  
inches taller *already*! In three months you'll be six and a half feet  
tall!"  
  
Maggie was just catching on. "Wait, Karen, you found something down  
here that makes you TALLER, too?"  
  
"Well, yes, I have. But that's not what I ingested," Karen explained.  
  
I asked her what she had ingested, and she pulled a slip of paper out of  
her pocket and handed it to me. I played the beam of my light on it and  
read, with difficulty, "For the purpose of turning a weakling into a  
True Man."  
  
I shined my light back at Karen, but she was once again taking her  
clothes off. "You're turning yourself into a MAN!?", I screamed. (I  
was doing a LOT of screaming, now that I think about it.)  
  
"No, no," she said, "The formula only increases size and strength. It  
won't make me hairy or grow a penis - in fact it should *enhance* my,  
ah, feminine characteristics. More (gasp) robust."  
  
She had stripped down to her bloody t-shirt, and I could see she was  
right. Her breasts were easily 50% larger than they'd been in the  
clearing 15 minutes earlier. Karen seemed to have stopped getting  
taller, maybe at 5'4", (4 1/2 inches taller than she'd been), but her  
breasts were still... inflating. Before my eyes. Enthusiastically! I  
had never seen anything like it. The seams on her breast pocket began  
to pop as the fabric stretched further than had ever been intended.  
Karen was gasping ecstatically, and it seemed that each shuddering  
gasp that came out of her mouth caused an explosion in the size of her  
already-enormous breasts.  
  
Karen was breathing heavily as she reached up, grabbed the collar of her  
shirt and, with startling strength, ripped it off. As she did it, I  
noticed bulging cords of muscle along the top of her forearm. Her  
pumpkin-sized breasts bounced out of the shredded t-shirt, constrained  
only by her rock-solid arms. While she was oblivious to her growing  
muscles as she massaged her naked breasts, I watched as her biceps grew  
larger and thicker each time she tensed them to press her hands into  
her chest.  
  
Maggie, unlike me, was absorbed in Karen's breasts. All of a sudden,  
Maggie screamed, "Where is it!? I want big breasts!! I WANT TITS!!!,"  
and began to run towards the door. I reached for her, but she pulled  
free. Karen grabbed Maggie by the back of her sweatshirt, easily  
pulling her back, delightedly noticing her own swollen arm muscles and  
increased strength for the first time.  
  
Effortlessly restraining Mary Margaret with her left arm, Karen flexed  
her right bicep and said, "This, THIS is what it feels like to be  
STRONG. My God, I'm SO STRONG. Look at these MUSCLES, they're HUGE.  
I'M huge, and strong, strong like a man. It's incredible, I feel.....I  
feel sooooo HARD, sooo SOLID." She grabbed Maggie beneath the armpits  
and lifted her into the air, spinning around and laughing hysterically,  
screaming "TWENTY-FIVE FUCKING PERCENT!!", a super-human, huge- 
breasted, lunatic muscle-girl in the darkness.  
  
Karen insisted we help her test her new strength before going to look  
through the potions and powders in the back. Arm wrestling her on the  
floor, Maggie and I finally managed to restrain her right arm when we  
both grabbed it, Maggie pulling and me pushing. But restrain her was  
all we were able to do. Karen kept her arm straight up. Her right arm  
alone had grown as strong as me and Maggie put together!! I didn't say  
anything then, but I knew that there weren't many boys we went to school  
with as strong as THAT.  
  
I was thinking, "How much of the strength increaser stuff did she eat?  
And will she really wind up FOUR times stronger than she is now?"  
  
Finally, though, Karen acquiesced and said, "Ok, now it's time for you  
little ladies to grow a bit."  
  
Oh, Diary! I've run out of time! I'll tell you the rest later.  
  
Love,  
  
Tracey  
  
 
 
 
MIGHTY MORPHIN' AMAZON CHEERLEADERS  
  
Part II by Lingster  
  
  
  
  
November 5, 1996  
  
  
Dear Diary,  
  
Where did I leave off? Oh, I remember: Karen had ingested a mystical  
Chinese powder that caused her to grow about 4 1/2 inches in height,  
add about 20 pounds of muscle, and turn her perky C-cups into pumppkin- 
sized mams within the course of about 10 minutes. It would, she  
explained, also cause a steady increase in her height and muscularity  
over the course of the next three months, eventually causing her to  
stand about 6'6", and have four times the strength she currently  
possessed, and her strength had easily increased five- or ten-fold over  
the last few minutes. She had been the smallest, weakest girl on the  
varsity cheerleading squad before taking the powder, but suddenly she  
was as strong as the biggest boys on the football team.  
  
And now she wanted Mary Margaret and me to partake of our choice of the  
warehouse of mystical powders & potions that stood on the far side of  
the wall.  
  
On earlier trips, Karen told us, she had eaten substances that, first,  
had turned her breastless, shapeless figure into the sexy, curvaceous  
form that she had worn for the last year, up until taking the muscle  
treatment a few minutes earlier. Later, she had returned to the site  
after receiving disappointing SAT scores, taking an intelligence  
increasing substance that had boosted her from 1140 to 1470 in just  
three months.  
  
I was reluctant. Sure it had excited me - looking at Karen excited me  
- big muscles, big breasts, she had gone from being shoulder high to me  
and Mary Margaret to being about an inch taller in a quarter hour!  
That thrilled me, I can't deny it.  
  
Some things are easier for boys, and other things are easier for girls.  
But it's obvious that a lot of the things that are easier for boys are  
physical things. I walked to school, and every morning I dragged the  
enormous weight of my books, and every afternoon I hauled them home.  
But boys practically skip to school, the weight doesn't bother them.  
Boys get to wrestle and play football, they're so strong and sturdy.  
They toss each other around like ragdolls and rarely get hurt.  
  
My mouth was dry with desire, *I* wanted to be strong, But I  
couldn't do it. I was a varsity cheerleader, like Karen and Mary  
Margaret, but unlike them, my boyfriend Richard wasn't a football  
player. He was captain of the chess team, and we'd made love and  
wrestled enough for me to know that he wasn't a whole lot stronger than  
me. Worse, I really loved him, and I still do. But I was pretty sure  
that if I started growing bigger & stronger muscles than his, Richard  
would beat a hasty retreat.  
  
All this went through my head as Karen grabbed me by my elbow, threw  
Maggie over her shoulder, and dragged us both into the room where the  
mystics had stored their wares.  
  
Karen had rigged the room with about 5 battery-powered lanterns, so it  
was bright enough to see the room in its entirety. I say this without  
reservation: it was a weird looking place. It looked like a library  
with all its shelves, but about half of the shelf space was dedicated  
to lab equipment rather than books. There was a table/workbench off to  
one side of the room, and there were three mason jars sitting on it  
beside a lantern.  
  
We walked over to the table, and Karen began to explain what the jars  
were. This one, she said pointing to the open jar, was the strength  
and muscle building powder; she smiled and flexed her baseball-sized  
bicep. The other two were for breast enlargement and intelligence  
enhancement.  
  
Maggie lunged for the breast enlargement jar, but Karen grabbed it  
first. "Mary Margaret! Behave yourself or I'll kick your ass! If you  
take too much of this, you'll die. When I enlarged my tits, I took  
four tablespoons worth, precisely the recommended dosage. It took me  
from A to C. You're so hungry for tits, I'll let you have 6 tablespoons  
worth, that should get you to a, (let me do the math....) about a DD  
cup."  
  
Mary Margaret said that that would be alright, and accepted her dose  
without further complaint. After she had taken it, Karen also  
suggested that she take a tablespoon each of the intelligence and  
strength increasers, just to make her system sturdier. Maggie seemed  
a little reluctant to develop muscles, but Karen reassured her, saying,  
"I took ten tablespoons of it, if you only take one, nobody will even  
notice the muscles you'll grow unless you flex. Besides," she said,  
turning her back to us, "look what it does for your ass!" Karen's ass  
really had become remarkably sexy, and the sight of it seemed to  
alleviate Maggie's concerns; she swallowed the two tablespoons.  
  
Karen called me over to take my medicine, but I told her I'd rather  
wait to see what happened with Maggie first, she smiled, and said,  
"Ok."  
  
We didn't have to wait long.  
  
Suddenly, Mary Margaret grunted. I said, "Maggie, are you alright?"  
She said that she was, and in a minute we could see she was becoming a  
lot better than "alright".  
  
Maggie and I had, since elementary school, maintained what amounted to  
one wardrobe. We were nearly the exact same size. As I watched Maggie  
begin to grow, I realized that those days were gone.  
  
Since she' d taken it first, the breast enlargement formula was the  
first to kick in. As I came to realize, it wasn't STRICTLY a breast  
enlarger. The label on the jar said, "To enhance a lady's comeliness  
and fertility."  
  
Maggie's bustline surged outward even as her ass began to fill in. It  
was like watching a well-developed young girl go through puberty in  
fast-forward. Twin orbs of flesh began to define themselves under  
Maggie's t-shirt, extending forward even as their edges spread towards  
each other and her armpits. Within a minute or so, her breasts reached  
each other and began to push forward with greater speed. Her shirt  
began to pull outward even as her neckline was dragged down, eventually  
coming to reveal generous cleavage near the point of the v-neck. Her  
development abruptly stopped. She was still precisely the same height  
as me, and her arms were still slim and shapeless, so I knew there was  
more to come.  
  
Maggie began to tease her own breasts, clearly delighting in the weight  
and softness of them. The 25% spurt had left her nearly as shapely as  
Karen had been after her three months, so I knew that Maggie would be  
filling out quite impressively over the next 90 days. Suddenly a  
tremor flashed through her body, and I could tell the second two  
powders had kicked in.  
  
Maggie's breasts surged outward yet again, both from their second spurt  
and the sudden kick of development in the pectoral muscles beneath  
them. I saw her shoulders bulge out slightly, her calves and thighs  
and ass become more muscular. I was getting excited again, just as she  
began to grow taller. It took another minute or so for her to increase  
about an inch in height. When it was over, 5'3", A-Cup, 97 pound  
Maggie had been transformed into a 5'4", borderline D-Cup, 115 pound  
bombshell.  
  
Maggie seemed enrapt in watching her ample bosom jiggle as she took  
deep breaths. I, however, was more interested in finding out how  
strong and muscular she'd become. Her arms had an athletic shapeliness  
about them, they looked very sexy, but I wanted to see how big they'd  
swell when flexed.  
  
"Mary Margaret," I said, "flex your arms." She looked at me, her  
attention drifting from her swollen bustline for the first time,  
"My...arms?"  
  
Complying, I saw a small, round bicep come to attention, where none had  
been before. I walked over, reached up (I felt so short!), and grabbed  
it. It wasn't very big, but it was rock-hard. Maggie was a lot  
stronger than she looked, I decided - probably nearly as strong as  
Richard.  
  
Moment of truth. I wanted to be built - to have bulging muscles and  
heaving breasts, as strong or stronger than the men I knew. But that  
would mean losing Richard, I was sure, and Richard was my life and my  
love! I wanted to marry him. If only he wasn't so puny, if only I  
could give some of the muscle powder to HIM, but I was sure Karen  
wouldn't allow that.  
  
With my left hand I reached across my flat chest and grabbed my right  
upper arm. My hand fit all the way around, and when I flexed my bicep  
there was hardly any change in size, and it wasn't quite as hard as a  
marshmallow.  
  
I looked at the two strong, well-developed girls in the lab with me.  
In three months, Maggie would be 5'7" with an athlete's muscles and a  
stripper's tits. Karen in three months would be six and a half feet  
tall, with freaky bodybuilder muscles and some of the biggest all- 
natural mams on the planet.  
  
As I was deciding, Karen walked over to a shelf, pulled off a jar, and  
read the label, "For the purpose of diminishing the endowments of a  
person with whom nature has been too generous." She continued,  
"Tracey, you're either leaving her bigger and stronger, or smaller and  
weaker. Which is it going to be?"  
  
The choice had been made for me. I said, "Alright, I'll take four  
tablespoons of the breast enlarger, one of the muscle growing stuff,  
and 6 of the intelligence enhancer."  
  
"Six? No way I'm letting you have six tablespoons of that! Assuming  
that much doesn't kill you, or turn you into some weird idiot savant  
vegetable, you'd be a lot smarter than ME, which ain't going to happen.  
I'll let you have three tablespoons of the brain booster."  
  
"Five," I haggled.  
  
"Four," she responded, "and that's the last word. Anything more out of  
you, and you're going to wind up three feet tall."  
  
I grinned, walked over and swallowed four tablespoons of the breast  
enlarger, and then four tablespoons to increase my intelligence, and  
one to make me bigger and stronger.  
  
Karen gave me a glass of water to wash them all down, which I drank.  
We three were waiting for me to start developing, when I noticed Karen  
was grinning a little strangely.  
  
"What are you smiling about?" I accused.  
  
She cackled and said, "About the four tablespoons of muscle grower you  
just took. I switched them."  
  
"You...you...treacherous BITCH!"  
  
"Oh, come on. It's not like you don't want muscles, I just gave you  
what you want. You're so afraid of losing that weakling boyfriend of  
yours, you'd let a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity pass you by. Do you  
know how many women would KILL for this, to be stronger than the men in  
their lives?" Karen explained.  
  
Looking back, I realize she made a lot of sense, but at the time, I was  
furious. I screamed, "If you're so interested in seeing me built like  
an amazon, why didn't you let me take six tablespoons?"  
  
Karen smirked and said, "Sweetheart, I only had five tablespoons, and  
you were bigger than me to start with. If I'd let you take six, or  
even five, in fifteen minutes you'd be much stronger than me, which I  
can't allow."  
  
"Whoa whoa whoa! Slow down! You took FIVE? You told us you'd taken  
TEN!" I looked at the bulging muscles which had blossomed on her frame  
in the last half hour, and said, "If you took only FIVE, and I took  
FOUR, I'm going to be HUGE! I'll be *much* stronger than Richard, and  
he'll leave me!" I wept.  
  
Karen said, "Well, I think the effect doubles with each dose, so that  
your strength will only develop half as much as mine, but again, you  
started with more strength than I did. Don't you see? You'll be three  
to four times as strong as the average man when your three months are  
up, in fifteen minutes you'll be a quarter of the way there! You'll be  
a goddess!" I realized from the way she was looking at me, though,  
that my transformation was at hand.  
  
Well, Diary, I'll collect my thoughts on the transformation and get  
back to you in a few days.  
  
Tracey  
 
 
 
MIGHTY MORPHIN' AMAZON CHEERLEADERS  
  
Part III by Lingster  
  
  
  
November 11, 1996  
  
Dear Diary,  
  
How can I explain the changes I went through in those minutes after  
Karen duped me into taking the body-building formula? It was heaven and  
hell. It was like my first orgasm; the rapturous pleasure all tied up  
in the monstrous fear and guilt of the carnal act.  
  
I mentioned in my last two entries how I craved the transformation.  
Some girls want big breasts, and I'm not saying ample knockers aren't  
nice, but I wanted to be big in every area. My greatest desire was for  
strength. Back then, it seemed an impossible dream, to be as much  
stronger than most men as they are stronger than women. To turn the  
tables, to knock them around and hold them beneath my solid, powerful  
body, that was my fantasy.  
  
But love and fantasy don't always mesh. My desire for men weaker than  
me had led me to Richard, I'm sure of that; al- though, at the time, he  
was still the stronger of the two of us. He was slender and frail for a  
boy, though, and couldn't easily out-muscle me. That was good enough.  
  
I was afraid, as my transformation began, that he would leave me if I  
developed large, powerful muscles. As my breasts began to expand,  
that's what I was thinking.  
  
But the weight of my new breasts, that's what I was most aware of. As  
they grew and swelled outward, I could feel the growing strain on my  
back and shoulders. I was so weak, my puny, soft muscles overloaded by  
an extra few pounds of breast-flesh! It seems hard to believe, now.  
  
I wasn't really prepared for them. Rubbing my hands against my  
inflating breasts, an avalanche of sensations washed over me. I  
imagined nerves and ganglia multiplying as quickly as fat cells within  
my swelling bosom, increasing sensitivity in synch with increasing  
size. While they weren't growing as quickly as Maggie's had, they  
still seemed enormous to me, as they grew from an AA cup into what I  
could only guess was a B, and then a small C cup. I thought I would  
orgasm just from the sensation of my cotton t-shirt stretching against  
my developing tits - it felt THAT good.  
  
Suddenly, I felt fire wash through my body. My perceptions became  
vastly clearer, more detailed. I realized, somehow, that the brain  
booster was acting on my central nervous system, not just making me  
smarter, but improving my reflexes, sharpening my perception, and  
improving all of my senses. No wonder Karen hadn't wanted me to get too  
much of this stuff!  
  
Soon after, my muscles started growing.  
  
Have you ever ripped a cardboard box, Diary? That's what it felt like.  
It felt like little strands, cords, and fibers all over my body tearing  
apart. I felt like I was exploding through my skin - a tightness  
grabbed me and I delighted in the vicious agony.  
  
Convulsing, I splayed my fingers out on the floor, and watched as veins  
popped out of my forearm. Seeing muscle tissue beginning to bulge, I  
tried to flex my right arm, but I had no control over my body and its  
new muscles.  
  
My joints screamed with enraged, searing pain. I realized they must be  
growing pains, but multiplied a thousand fold. I was able to see my  
legs extending, the pants cuff moving further and further up my leg,  
until both cuffs tore open within a few seconds of each other, unable to  
contain my newly-powerful calves.  
  
Unsteadily, I stood up, trembling from the agony and power I felt. I  
raised my arms above my head, and screamed, my wildly tightening biceps  
and triceps bursting open the sleeves that tried vainly to contain their  
growing size and strength.  
  
My tits were as big as Maggie's now, having grown larger over the last  
few minutes. But unlike Maggie's delicate, tear drop shaped breasts,  
mine protruded like bullets off of my over-developed pectoral muscles.  
I realized I had grown to about 5'6" tall, and my new long, lean, solid  
muscles had completely changed the appearance of my body.  
  
The pain passed, and my mind filled with rage. Grabbing Karen, who was  
now shorter, but still slightly more muscular, than I, I flung her  
across the room like a doll. She smashed into the wall, got up, and  
screamed, "What's your f******* PROBLEM!?"  
  
"You are!" I yelled back, "I'm going to lose Richard! Change me back!"  
  
"I'm not letting you change back," she said, "you're an amazon goddess  
now, you stupid cow! You can have any man you want! You're stronger  
than THEM, now!"  
  
"I....am, aren't I?" I flexed my right bicep, astounded as it inflated  
like a balloon. I tried as hard as I could (which was pretty hard,  
after my transformation) to crush my bulging arm muscle with my left  
hand, but to no avail. What had possessed all the size and hardness of  
a marshmallow 15 minutes earlier was now as large and hard as a  
baseball. If Karen's estimates were correct, I was now more than twice  
as strong as my boyfriend.  
  
"But, please, I'll lose Richard! Make me a LITTLE weaker, make my  
muscles smaller, so he won't notice how strong I've become," I begged.  
  
"First off," Karen argued, "he probably won't notice. Something about  
this stuff clouds the minds of the people around us. Unless we really  
beat them over the head with it, nobody will perceive any change in us."  
  
"Secondly, haven't you ever noticed how much effort your weakling  
boyfriend goes to to let everybody know how disgusted he is by Carla's  
muscles? Methinks he doth protest too much," she said.  
  
"Thirdly, I'll make you a deal. I'll give you two tablespoons of the  
strength & size reducing powder to take back with you, if you promise  
only to ingest them if Richard notices your changes and doesn't like  
them."  
  
"Okay, I promise."  
  
"Alright," she said, sighing, "let's get out of here. I left baggy  
clothes for all of us topside."  
  
Karen and I bounded up the 300 steps, reveling in our new strength, as  
Maggie, still relatively weak, cried out to us to wait for her.  
  
All the way back, Karen and I had to wait for Maggie. We'd developed  
such enormous strength and stamina, we could peddle our bicycles at top  
speeds for hours. Maggie, though now very strong for a girl, still had  
only normal human physical strength. Karen and I had become something  
more.  
  
That night, all three of us snuck into the football team's weight room,  
to test ourselves out.  
  
None of us had ever pumped any iron before, and we didn't really know  
what to do. We let Maggie go first, and were surprised when she was  
able to bench-press, for ten repetitions, 175 pounds!  
  
"Christ, Maggie, you only took one tablespoon, and you've become a  
brute," Karen observed.  
  
I won't tell you how much weight Karen and I threw up that night, but  
suffice it to say, we had to gather it up from several different weight  
stations, and it still didn't challenge us. It was clear that none of  
the football players were remotely as strong as we were, now.  
  
Karen had radically underestimated the effect of the powders on muscle  
density, and maybe the mystics had, as well. Their instructions had  
implied that a weak man could gain average strength with two  
tablespoons, but with just one tablespoon Maggie had gone from  
possessing zero upper body strength to being pretty strong even by male  
standards.  
  
Based on our new estimates, I realized that in three months I would have  
the strength of 25 men, and Karen twice that. Maggie, so concerned  
about not developing "unfeminine" muscles, would have the strength of  
four men, in a body that would have put Marilyn Monroe out of business.  
  
I so enjoyed watching my muscles bulge that night, as I pumped  
colossally heavy weights that felt like feathers to me, I resolved I  
would never take the weakening compound, no matter WHAT Richard thought.  
  
Well, Diary, I'm tired. I'll continue this later.  
  
Tracey  
 
  
  
  
  
  
M I G H T Y M O R P H I N ' A MA Z O N C H E E R L E A D E R S  
  
   PART IV  
  
T R A C E Y ' S D I A R Y  
  
November 15, 1996  
  
Dear Diary,  
  
I thought it would be interesting to look through Richard's journals  
from the week after the start of my transformation.  
  
Love, Tracey  
  
************************************************************************  
********* R I C H A R D ' S J O U R N A L  
  
Saturday, 23 June, 1995, 11:00 am - Kitchen table  
  
Tracy gone on cycling trip with Maggie & Karen this morning.  
  
I plan to spend day practicing meditation - could be useful on SATs.  
  
R.  
  
************************************************************************  
********* R I C H A R D ' S J O U R N A L  
  
  
Sunday, 24 June 1995, 7:30 pm - My bedroom  
  
Called Tracy today. Wanted to experiment with "Rite of Shiva" ancient  
mystical Hindi lovemaking technique I've read of. She made excuses,  
didn't seem to want to see me - her voice a little husky. Denies she  
has cold or flu. Dumping me?  
  
Perhaps for best. While having trouble coming to terms with fixation  
on physically dominant women, may be best to put such a frail creature  
as Tracey back on shelf.  
  
Carla, though. She fills my sleep. Is she as strong as me? Stronger?  
I need to know.  
  
R.  
  
************************************************************************  
********* R I C H A R D ' S J O U R N A L  
  
Monday, 25 June 1995, 12:30 pm - School cafeteria  
  
Strangeness afoot. Tracy and her two cheerleader friends went out  
bicycling Saturday, and she's avoided me since.  
  
The summer college prep seminar is in session, roughly half the junior &  
senior class is enrolled. Provides excellent opportunity to keep tabs  
on Tracey. I approached her at her locker this morning, intending to  
confront, but felt dizzy, confused when I spoke to her.  
  
Her two cheerleader friends, Karen & Maggie, were there. They moved  
very close to me (supported me as I fell?), I felt vaguely threatened.  
I remember the whole parade of events as though a dream.  
  
Oddly arousing. Am I coming down with flu?  
  
R.  
  
************************************************************************  
********* R I C H A R D ' S J O U R N A L  
  
Tuesday, 26 June 1995, 10:30 pm, My bedroom - mescaline test  
(transcribed later from scribbles)  
  
Lamp lamp lamp  
  
BIG GIRL  
  
BIG GIRLS have all the fun  
  
CARLA LARCA LRACA TRACA TRACY  
  
All bones and no flesh made tRACY a dull girl  
  
super cheerleaders  
  
************************************************************************  
********* R I C H A R D ' S J O U R N A L  
  
Wednesday, 27 June, 7:00 am, My bedroom  
  
Looking over past night's hallucinogenic scribblings, clear that my  
unusual fetish is occupying my thoughts. Odd that I should imprint it  
on Tracey, so small and weak. In fever-dream I imagined her as tall as  
myself, fabulously muscled and endowed.  
  
Began taking hallucinogens to come into contact with my true mind, is it  
leading me astray? Sex magick with Tracey having after-effects? Perhaps  
best to focus on 12th grade concerns: chess team, homework, AD&D.  
Princeton would reject me out of hand if this became known.  
  
Yet just writing about Tracey has aroused me. What is happening?  
  
R.  
  
************************************************************************  
********* R I C H A R D ' S J O U R N A L  
  
Thursday, 28 June 1995, 3:45 am, Woods behind high school  
  
Holy s***.  
  
I am going out of my f***ing MIND!  
  
Where do I start? I can't, I don't, how can this happen?  
  
She lifted me over her, rolled me under her. I felt like a sex toy.  
Tracey was in control. Completely. I may as well have been a dildo.  
  
The mescaline has corrupted my mind. I'm going home to sleep (must not  
miss school - perfect attendance record to think of), then, what?  
  
Voluntary committal at mental hospital?  
  
I don't know. Cheerleaders can turn into amazons overnight, can't they?  
I mean, CAN they? Freudian slip. Giddy.  
  
R.  
  
************************************************************************  
********* R I C H A R D ' S J O U R N A L  
  
Friday, 29 June 1995, 7:00 a.m., My bedroom  
  
No sleep.  
  
F*** the college prep seminar, I'm staying home.  
  
R.  
  
************************************************************************  
********* R I C H A R D ' S J O U R N A L  
  
Friday, 29 June 1995, 12:15 pm, School cafeteria  
  
Came in late, record intact.  
  
How did I miss it before? Tracy has grown as tall, if not taller, than  
I. Her friends have developed remarkably since last week, as well. No  
one seems to have noticed. What is happening?  
  
Last night was like something out of fantasy. Groping think knotted  
cords of muscle even as I plunged deeper and deeper into a woman so  
familiar, yet so alien. Breasts ample enough to suffocate pressed into  
my face, nipples like little-toes resisting my tongue.  
  
Not in control. I did as she suggested or, at times, commanded.  
  
I have always stood up to bullies, many fights lost, some won. As  
worst as I've been tossed around was as nothing compared to Tracey's  
gentle power last night. I have never been so aroused.  
  
Still I did not believe my eyes until her blouse came off. The first  
glimpse of her concave, muscular stomach, followed by her ample breasts  
(D - CUP?), and thick pectoral muscles convinced me that my suspicions  
were correct. But my reason fled me and faintness nearly prevailed as  
her arms and shoulders emerged from beneath their veil. Thicker and far  
stronger than have any business being found on a sixteen-year-old girl,  
they overwhelmed me before I was even wrapped within them. And when I  
was wrapped within them, I would have done, and WOULD DO, ANYTHING to  
remain there.  
  
I am in love, but will she still love me, now that she is so much the  
stronger of us?  
  
R.  
************************************************************************  
********* R I C H A R D ' S J O U R N A L  
  
Friday, 29 June 1995, 7:00 pm, My bedroom  
  
Went to the cheerleading practice today, had a chance to size girls up.  
  
Maggie: Smallest, least muscular of transformed three. Breasts very  
large, movements athletic and confident - perhaps possessed of enhanced  
physical strength.  
  
Karen: Nearly as tall as me. Very large breasts, extremely muscular.  
Seems to be even larger today than earlier in week. Still growing?  
Enhanced, if not superhuman, strength very likely. Knocked Tracey over  
accidentally! Behavior erratic.  
  
Tracey: Slightly taller than me. Build very athletic, long lean  
muscles. Smallest breasts of three, though still very large. Definite  
enhanced strength.  
  
Noted with irony that Carla, formerly my fantasy woman, now same height  
as Tracy, much less muscular, smaller breasts. Seems skinny,  
underdeveloped, and girlish by comparison.  
  
Fears about Tracey's loss of interest in me seem unfounded. She is more  
affectionate than ever. Karen's continued growth raises questions,  
though. How large will three cheerleaders get? Will other students  
experience similar transformations? Tracey refuses to discuss root of  
growth. Possibly viral/hormonal disorder. Possibly magic - black or  
white? Bicycle trip? Must investigate.  
  
Was Karen making eyes at me?  
  
R.  
  
************************************************************************  
*********  
  
Such a perceptive boy, isn't he?  
  
Love,  
  
Tracey  
 
  
  
  
  
  
M I G H T Y M O R P H I N '  
 A M A Z O N C H E E R L E A D E R S PART 5  
  
  
  
)))))))))))T R A C E Y ' S   D I A R Y((((((((((((  
  
  
  
  
Dear Diary,  
  
A week after the initial transformation, things began to settle back  
into their normal routine. Karen had grown another 2 inches in the  
first week back, with a disproportionate enlargement of her muscles and  
breasts. She was now nearly as tall as me again, and about twice as  
strong.  
  
Even though I only grew another half inch, the increase in strength felt  
incredible. And Karen had been completely right about Richard liking  
amazons - ever since we'd come back from our bicycle trip he hadn't been  
able to keep his hands off me.  
  
I was curious about the "weakening potion" Karen had given me, in case  
Richard had been repulsed by my "enhanced" figure. Was it really what  
she'd said? She had tricked me before, and I couldn't be confident  
that she wasn't up to her old tricks again. Regardless, I had to know.  
  
I needed a guinea pig.  
  
Carla seemed a good choice. I wouldn't use much of the stuff on her,  
just enough to produce a measurable effect. Before Karen, Maggie, and I  
had left her behind, she had generally been considered the school  
amazon. She looked puny next to us now, but I knew she loved having  
muscles - and big tits, too.  
  
Since she was built already, a little more wouldn't be unappreciated,  
and a little less wouldn't be noticed. With her workout routine, she'd  
probably pack it back on in a month.  
  
I went to the gym with her a few times, just to get her routine down.  
I was amazed at how easily I mimicked Carla's workout. Watching her do  
curls with a 25-pound dumbbell, though, I understood that she had worked  
for her muscle, 10 days earlier I could barely have lifted a 25-lb.  
weight off the ground. At this point, though, being a little less than  
a third of the way to the conclusion of my amazonic development, I  
probably could have curled close to ten times that with each arm.  
  
So I played along, doing Carla's routine along with her. Finally I  
screwed up my courage and put a tiny pinch of Karen's powder in Carla's  
Gatorade while she was finishing up her squats.  
  
Carla was wearing a tight, sleeveless t-shirt today, that showed off her  
shoulders and breasts. Her next exercise would be the bench-press, and  
I figured that between her revealing outfit and spotting her, I'd be in  
a position to judge any change.  
  
She took a deep gulp from her drink, finishing it off, and then  
sauntered over to me. Even with her arms hanging at her sides, her  
biceps were clearly discernible. And the fabric of her muscle t-shirt  
was stretched tightly over the deltoids of her shoulders, leaving  
rippled stretch marks in the white cotton leading down to her  
protruding breasts. Wearing a tight pair of shorts, her shapely butt  
was in much the same situation. Long, uncovered legs headed south from  
there. She was a beautiful girl with an amazing body. No wonder  
Richard stared at her!  
  
"Carla," I thought, "I hope this stuff makes your muscles bust the seams  
in that outfit."  
  
I was fairly sure that's what would happen, Karen was such a treacherous  
wench. Even though she did tell me the stuff would shrink me back down  
towards normal size, I didn't believe her. With her wacky sense of  
humor, taking it would probably turn me into the Incredible Hulk. And  
if something else did happen, I'd make a trip back up to the mystics'  
lab, get what I needed, and put things right for Carla.  
  
Carla was busy putting the weight on the bar as I thought about this.  
"140?" I asked, "That's a little more than usual, isn't it Carla?"  
  
"Yeah," she said, "but for some reason I feel like I could bench a truck  
today!"  
  
My heart soared! I stepped behind the bench to spot her, and she  
gripped the bar, lifted it off its mounts, and lowered it to her chest.  
I watched carefully, expecting growing pectorals to push swelling tit- 
flesh through a shredded muscle-tee at any second!  
  
I could see through her t-shirt that her nipples were hardened, so I  
figured the stuff must be kicking in.  
  
Carla cleared the bar five times, but on the sixth rep, she lowered it  
to her chest, and couldn't bring it back up again.  
  
"Tracey, looks like you were right, 140's too much. Get this off of me,"  
she said.  
  
I reached down and lifted the bar, grabbing it at the sides so as not to  
cop a feel of the ample boob-flesh it was pressed into. Carefully  
inspecting her upper body, I couldn't see any difference!  
  
She got up off the bench, took a step, and then fell flat on her face,  
as both of her sneakers slipped off her feet and bounced across the  
floor.  
  
"F***!" I thought.  
  
As she got up, I could see that her shirt seemed bigger than it had  
before. The fabric between her shoulders and breasts was loose, no  
longer stretched. And as she stood up, I realized that I could no  
longer see biceps in her untensed arms. Her shoulders and breasts  
didn't protrude nearly as much as before.  
  
"What the hell was that?" She asked. "Did you see that? My shoes  
just fell off!"  
  
I watched, dismayed, as the hem of her muscle shirt slowly slid lower,  
covering her formerly bare midriff. Her breasts, which had been about a  
C-cup, deflated slowly, through B, and into A...and finally disappeared  
altogether.  
  
Suddenly noticing what was happening, Carla flexed her right bicep,  
noticeably smaller than it had been when she was doing curls a few  
minutes earlier.  
  
As we watched, her now-golf ball sized bicep became smaller and less  
well defined, the prominent blue vein sinking into the muscle as it grew  
softer. In just over a minute, Carla lacked any noticeable bicep 
whatsoever, despite mightily straining to flex it. Her legs were even 
more affected than her arms, shrunken to the "chicken legs" level of  
underdevelopment.  
  
Amazonic Carla had become downright puny.  
  
She looked up at me, gawking, still shrinking. I grabbed her behind her  
bony shoulder blades and practically carried her out of the gym and  
into the girl's locker room.  
  
Once there, I stripped her. As I pulled off her pants, a flurry of  
detached pubic hair filled the air.  
  
Examining her, I realized what had happened. Carla was now about 10  
years old, by the look of her. A pinch of the powder had stripped away  
6 years! She'd lost a foot of height, her fat tits, and shapely,  
strong muscles in about 15 minutes. I suspected that this powder acted  
fully right away, since the effects had been so drastic with such a  
small dose. But one conclusion stood out: Karen had given me enough of  
the powder to turn me into an embryo, had I taken it.  
  
Carla was crying, alternately rubbing the ribs beneath her nipples and  
grasping her soft, thin arms. "What's happening to me!? I've become so  
small and weak!" She wept, "And my tits are GONE!"  
  
"It's okay, I'll fix it. Come with me."  
  
Carla's clothes fit her like a tent, but they'd have to do. I got on my  
bicycle and put her on my lap, not trusting her emaciated arms to be  
able to hold onto me from behind. Peddling furiously for the mystics'  
lab on the smooth railbed, I was able to accelerate to fairly high  
speeds, my superhuman strength propelling the mountain bike along at  
better than 60 miles an hour. Soon we were there.  
  
Karen had buried the lanterns in the dirt near where we'd eaten lunch  
during our last visit. I was gratified to find them in the same place,  
and 10 minutes later, Carla and I were in the lab.  
  
I made her sit in the corner, afraid her shock might cause her to do  
something rash. After searching for a little while, I found the age  
reagents: Older and Younger. Apparently, a pinch was good for 30% of  
your starting age. Three pinches would turn a septuagenarian into a 7- 
year old.  
  
One pinch would turn a 16 year old into an 11 year old. Apparently  
that's what had happened.  
  
Getting her back to normal would be tricky, too tricky. Better to  
approximate: a pinch of the "Older" would get her back nearly to 15, and  
she wasn't much smaller a year and a half ago than she was this morning.  
It would have to do.  
  
I walked over to her, and said, "Eat this."  
  
She did, and we sat back and waited.  
  
A few minutes later, a stain of blood appeared around her mid-section,  
and she started growing.  
  
I started to get excited as she grew taller, and her swelling breasts  
were an incredible turn on - growing larger and larger, filling out her  
t-shirt again, the shirt highlighting her big bosom. But no muscles  
grew to fill the muscle-tee. Her limbs stayed thin and girlish, weak  
as hell.  
  
All told, she reached to about 5'6" of her previous 5'8", and the old  
Carla would overflow a brassiere that fit the smaller, though still  
ample, new Carla. She flexed her arms, but scarcely any muscle raised  
from them at all. Everything about her seemed so...depleted.  
  
"I'm still so weak! I HATE being weak," she cried.  
  
"What the hell," I thought. I realized, belatedly, that the powder had  
turned her into a plain 14 1/2 year old, not a 14 1/2 year old who'd  
been doing gymnastics and pumping iron for three years. Time would add  
a half cup size to her chest and 2 inches to her height, but she'd  
have to start from scratch where her muscles were concerned. That  
wasn't fair, I had to put things right, and make up for the trauma I'd  
caused. Besides, we needed FOUR strong girls for the cheerleading  
competition in August. One more weakling wouldn't do us any good. But  
with one more REALLY strong girl, we could have a REALLY cool routine!  
"Out of the frying pan...."  
  
"I can make you strong again Carla - stronger than you've ever been,  
even in your weirdest, wildest dreams. And with bigger, harder muscles  
than you ever imagined could be possible."  
  
Some story, hey Diary-mine? But it'll keep until I'm ready to put pen  
to paper again.  
  
Love,  
  
Tracey  
  
 

