by By AP Scout
Her name was Big'maa. She was thirty-one and known throughout the known galaxy for three things. The first was her money: she had enough that what she wanted, she got. The second was her force of will. If a company didn't give her what she expected, then she started her own. But the biggest thing she had going for her was her breast size. Simply put, they were the largest around and Big'maa liked it that way.
Now as she stood glaring at the director of the company she had come to, said mounds looked as if they would attack the good fellow of their own volition. The obviously erect nipples were like a set of laser guns hidden behind two small dots of gold material that were held on with Skin-Glue. Another bit of material was strategically placed between her legs. The rest of her was naked and all aquiver with indignant rage. Her eyes metallic blue with flashes of lightning, thanks to miniature holo-projectors, and her hair seemed to swirl as if caught in an updraft.
"What do you mean you CAN'T fill my order?" Her voice was as smooth as silk but as cold as ice. The director, poor fellow, gulped and stuttered. "You can make me little again, correct?" He dumbly nodded. "You can make me as young as I want, correct?" The last word came out like the crack of a whip.
"Oh certainly, madam."
"Then," she said, leaning forward eyes afire, "What is the problem?"
"We... we don't have any synthetics that meet your special criteria for being a father."
"Come on, you claim to have everything from fat slobs to the perfect man. You mean to tell me that my 'very ordinary father' can't be found?"
"It..." He paused trying to shift his gaze away from her massive chest but failed miserably. "Not the physical aspects, madam. It's what you want him to do." She frowned; it was small but still a frown. If the poor director had had any real bowels, they would have loosened.
"Why not?" Big'maa asked after a moment's pause.
"It's such a rare practice. Quite quaint actually..."
"Are you calling my genetic material donor quaint?" The director whimpered. "I see."
"Madam," the man said, "I did not mean to imply... It is rare as I said and we have never had any call to program such behavior into any of our models." He ran a hand through his hair. "We wouldn't even know where to start."
"Then I will sue!" the woman threatened.
"Sue?" he squeaked, nearly bursting into tears.
"Yes, your ad said you could give me anything I wanted. Your representatives, even you, promised that I could have the father I wanted."
His chest ached. He hoped it was an actual heart attack. His mind nearly shut down. A vague notion came to him. It took painful seconds to form.
"Madam," he said slowly, carefully, "I believe I have found a solution to your problem."
"What?" She crossed her arms over her chest, no easy feat.
"The Galactic Museum of Ancient History has a man currently in cryosleep. I believe he is from a time period when what you want was a more common practice. We could acquire him, at great cost."
The director hovered beside his patron as she stared at the cryotube. "He is in here?" He nodded his head. "What's he look like?"
"Close to what you wanted. Five-nine, muscular build. Intelligent. The GMAH was not eager to give him up."
"What did he work as?"
"The museum was rather ambiguous about that, apparently some type of manual labor. Something to do with trees and such I believe." He called a projection up on his PADD and held it up for her.
She didn't even glance at it. He kept it upraised. She glanced at it. Well-defined muscles, sandy-brown hair, slightly darker beard, and deep-blue eyes.
"Has he ever been out in this time?"
"No, why would they?"
"Then how do they know about him?" The director shrugged. "They didn't ask?"
"Unless it's relevant, no. They plucked this poor fellow out of the woods when computers were in the Stone Age. Even still, they would just core-drag all of his memories up and play them back."
"Send me the data. I wish to review it first. And even if I don't decide to go through with it, I might want him as a showpiece at one of my homes." Big'maa smiled. She always got what she wanted.
Massaging water rained down upon her now naked body. She scrubbed herself clean, letting the day's grime vanish. She directed her computer to display the man's data before her. Her eyes, now their real green, traced every curve. Judging by his looks, he was very muscular and well-defined. The museum had underestimated his height by some five or six inches.
"Plucked," she muttered, "A captive of an age that wants to gawk at things from Old-Earth." She had been to that planet a few times. The cities were gone; it was lush and green again. Only a few villages dotted the expansive lands, a secluded house here and there. Her lips curled slightly. She didn't sit on the board of the Museum but she was going to. There were some changes to be made.
Opening another window, she placed a call. The director answered at once. "Listen to me. I want you to shove standard knowledge of this time into his head so he can function and not act like it's a complete shock. I want him awake and in my house in thirty minutes." She clicked "disconnect", not giving the poor fellow a chance to debate.
Big'maa had changed into a dress that was modest by her standards. The man from the past didn't even notice. He simply sat on her couch and looked around the enormous and plush living room in bewilderment.
"Like a drink?"
He jerked then said shakily, "Coffee, black... I think I have a hangover." He gave her a serious look. "Listen, did we uh sleep together?" Big'maa started to laugh setting her substantial mounds to jiggling. "Uh..."
"Never mind," she said, waving his discomfort off. She moved to sit beside him. She noticed that he was dressed in a strange material, and an even stranger shirt. "This might seem strange to you but what do you call those? And that?" she asked indicating his clothes.
"Jeans," he said after a few seconds, "And a plaid shirt." An android servant brought him his coffee and left silently. He sipped.
"Feel bad, huh?"
"Like somebody fed me a book."
"That's pretty much what happened."
"What?" He looked up and winced at the sudden action.
"You know stuff that you didn't know before, right?" He nodded, surprise coming onto his face. "You understand things that were only science fiction when you were young, right?"
"Yeah," he answered distantly.
"What's your name?" He blinked. She smiled at him.
"Jeff, Jeffery Knight."
"People call me Big'maa but my name's actually Melissa Moore." They shook hands and he seemed to find that funny because he started to chuckle. She smiled, her eyes, now their normal topaz, sparkled. She drew a strand of her hair out of her face.
"Where am I? What happened?"
"What happened is hard to explain. Where? In one of my homes. You are several centuries past your time. We aren't even in Earth's solar system now."
"I must be dreaming this."
"Does it feel like it?"
"No," Jeff said and took another sip of his coffee. "I was just waiting to go... worried sick about my gal you see." He sighed. "I suppose I'm not making sense."
Big'maa said, "Let me tell you what I want and if you don't want in, I'll make sure you get back to your 'gal', okay?" He nodded his head wondering what he got himself into. Smiling, she got up and fixed herself a drink. She paced about the room, her bare feet feeling the lush carpet below them.
"I'm rather rich. Everybody knows that. I'm also spoiled rotten. I have been since I was a little girl. Whatever I wanted, I got and whatever anybody else had that I didn't want them to have." Her cheeks colored slightly. "You have to understand, Jeffery, or would you..."
She inclined her head slightly. "Jeff, you have to understand that most of today's culture is ruled by children brought up on permissiveness. It's a wonder that we managed to get into space let alone stay stable enough to be semi-united."
"I think they said Earth tried a world government once but it broke down. We have nations but they're made up of stars instead of bits of land. The tales of aliens bringing us together in peace were myths. Most 'nations' just prayed the aliens wouldn't look their way."
"Sounds bad, but where do I come in? I don't think I'd be able to unite them or anything."
Big'maa laughed again. "No, Jeff, that isn't why you're here. I got sidetracked." She took a drink and paced a little more. "As I was saying, I was spoiled by people who thought it was all right to let a kid do what they wanted when they wanted. I think I've learned a little as I grew older but... I'm not happy with how I turned out. My parents loved me and I love them but after I grew up, they weren't real interested in me."
"Is that typical here?"
"No, don't get me wrong. Most of the parents I've met are devoted to their children, and have great relationships with their adult children too." She took another drink, walked back over, and refilled her glass. "Jeff, I'll put it to you simply, I want you to be my father."
"Your father?" He seemed stupefied.
"Maybe a brother... I'm not old enough to..."
"How old are you?"
She nodded. "At least GMAH got that right." He gave her a puzzled look. "Do you accept the that this is the future?" He nodded. "Well in this time, we have the ability to regress in age. There's an entire cottage industry devoted to fulfilling the needs of those individuals who want to regress. There are synthetics to act as fathers or mothers in case the parents don't want to raise their kid over again. We have industries for age progression and other such niche markets too. We can have our minds changed to be kids again or adults if we progress beyond our original years."
"So why me?"
"Because our synthetics come from this permissive time. I want a dad that'll tell me no, mean no, and smack my little bottom if I put up too much of a fuss. I want a father who'll lay down rules and if I break them, not give me a pat on the head and tell me not to do it again. But most importantly, I want a father who'll cuddle me when I'm sad and kiss my ouches and play pretend games with me.... tuck me in and read me bedtime stories."
"You sound like you tried this before."
"I did... It was not what I wanted." She came over to him and sat down. "Jeff, this probably sounds selfish. It's what I want. I'm just trying to explain my reasons."
"So what makes you think I can do what you want?"
"Your upbringing. You looked after your sisters, right?"
He was shocked but answered, "Yeah, I was in my teens when Mom died. I had three younger sisters. Sarah was the oldest at nine. Nancy was youngest at three. Dad had to work two jobs so it was up to me."
"What were your parents like?"
"Well, decent. Dad was a little stricter after Mom died but he'd at least listened to you first. Mom was a firecracker. She'd blow up and give you a smack and then realize that she was after the wrong kid and apologize. Big heart." He had a smile on his face.
She put her drink down and folded her hands. "Listen, I meant what I said about if you didn't want to do this, I'd get you back to your gal." The slang term rolled off her tongue and she smiled internally. It would have been nice living in Jeff's time.
"She'd kill to get a chance to be in space. She was always annoyed that they wouldn't let women into space." He smiled then.
"Well..." Big'maa started then stopped. Her brow furrowed in thought. It would definitely have given the director heart failure. Jeff, starry-eyed and still thinking about his girlfriend, didn't notice. "Jeff, do you want to go back?"
He sighed, "Asides from my girlfriend and my job, there ain't much back there. I got family but we don't talk much." He looked at her. "How long is this going to be for anyway?"
"Indefinitely, unless it doesn't work out."
"You mean when I don't let you do something you want to do."
"No," Big'maa said with some force, "I am serious about this. So much so, that in the documents that I've drawn up, it states that we both have to agree to terminate the deal. The only exceptions are that you can terminate it at any time and I can break it if there is danger of harm coming to me. So basically, unless you take to abusing me, I'm stuck with it until you want to give it up. Contact any lawyer you want and have him look it over."
He looked at her and asked, "You've been a selfish bully, haven't you?"
Her temper started to rise but she clamped down on it. "Yes."
He thought about it for long time. "What the hell. Show me a phone so I can call the lawyers."
"Wonderful. Just call me 'Missy' when I'm a kid."
Big'maa stood in her bedroom. It was furnished like a little girl's. In her hands was the vial that held the regression formula. It glowed faintly. Uncorking it, she swallowed it down. She closed her eyes and it oozed down into her system. At first, there was no reaction and then she felt a tingling.
Her large mounds trembled slightly. Then one started to shrink, collapsing as if under its own weight. The other followed just as the first reached a stage where it was flat. There was no roundness at all. The other mound shrunk and she had to steady herself as her center of balance shifted. She felt weird having the huge weight removed. In a way, it was comfortable. She could look down and see her feet now.
As she watched, her toes became smaller as her feet shrank. The floor moved closer as her legs shortened. She could feel and see the baby fat rippling back into place. Her tummy became less firm, bulged. Her bottom became chunkier as her waist and hips lost their beautiful curves.
Her arms stopped dragging on the floor as they shortened, thickening with baby fat and loosing their strength. Big'maa was at first worried that they had given her a younger body than she had requested but then remembered that she wasn't overly fat as a child. Cheeks became chubby as her head became smaller, rounder. As she smiled in the full-length mirror, she saw that her cute cheeks develop a rosy glow to them. She noticed she was missing a front tooth but only for an instant. She turned, or tried to, but landed on her very spankable rump with a thud.
She sighed and waited for her balance to come back. When it did, she got up and looked herself over. Overall, she was impressed. The formulas were getting more refined every day. She was three to four years old as she requested. She glanced at the clock.
"Got to hurry," she said. Jeff was about to arrive and she wanted to meet him. She pulled on her underpants, which were pink with white bunnies. A pair of blue size 3T shorts followed then a yellow T-shirt with an old cartoon character on it. She had to try two or three times to get the shirt right and only then discovered that her shorts were on wrong. Feeling slightly silly, she rearranged her clothing and then left her bedroom. The doorknob was a definite stretch for the toddler.
The little girl paused on the steps and saw that Jeff was in the living room. He was wearing his jeans and plaid shirt. Despite the strangeness of his clothes, they seemed to suit him. He was comfortable. Feeling butterflies in her tummy, she started running down the stairs shouting, "Daddy! Daddy!" Her high-pitched voice sounded strange in her ears. Jeff turned and scooped her up into a hug as she got closer. "Hi Daddy!" she sang and hugged him around the neck. He hugged her some more and then pushed her away slightly.
"Melissa," he said sternly, "I heard you've been a very naughty girl. You've been selfish and bullying people."
"I sowwy, Dad-dy. Me not do it no more." She stuck a finger into her mouth. "Pwomise."
"I think you need a spanking."
"No, I be good!" Melissa whined. "Pwease Dad-dy?" She looked at him with large innocent eyes.
"I believe you, but you've still been naughty." Melissa started to sniffle at that point.
"I be good, pwomise!" Melissa tried again. Jeff ignored her. He instead moved to sit down on the couch. She started to squirm once she was in position on her tummy across her father's lap. It was to no effect for Jeff had a firm hold on her. "Dad-dy!" Melissa shouted. Her father's only response was to bring his hand down sharply on her bottom.
Time passed and neither party regretted the agreement. She got a real father who loved her, and not because of some agreement. Melissa found that it could be fun, if not always possible, to be good. She would admit, only to herself, that sometimes she was intentionally naughty.
That had been the case that day. Little Melissa, now four, was squirming in her booster seat at the dinner table and it was not due to her recently spanked bottom. "Missy, sit still," Jeff said sternly. He was still annoyed with her behavior.
She tried with all her might to sit still but she just couldn't. The surprise she had planned was too exciting. Just when she thought Jeff's patience was going to snap, the doorbell rang. Hopping up, she raced from the room. "Me get!" she shouted. He was so startled that he didn't move. That left the little girl enough time get to the door.
"Don't open that until I get there, Missy!" Jeff called. He was trailing her to the dining room entrance. The child ignored him and opened the door anyway.
"Missy..." her father began sharply but his voice trailed away as he looked at their visitor.
"Hi Mommy!" Melissa squeaked.
The visitor was Jeff's gal.