Copyright © 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.