The bell rang for the next round of the tournament and Jamie was still surrounded by four huge jocks. Of course "huge" was relative, as he was now over seven feet and sporting much larger muscles, not to mention a serious bulge.
"Listen," Jamie said, "I've got to go to the next round of the tournament."
"You're not going anywhere, punk," snarled the lead jock, looking up at him and locking eyes.
Jamie stared back down. "What, you want a staring contest? Are we in sixth grade or something?"
The jock just stared back, jacking himself up on his feet so he looked taller, but of course two can play at that game.
Then the bell rang again and Jamie looked away, then felt his odd sinking feeling. When he looked back, the jock was standing significantly closer to his eye level.
"Dude!" said one of the other jocks. "You've grown like half a foot!"
"What?" said the lead jock then looked around, suddenly noticing that he was almost seven feet tall.
"You beat me in a staredown," Jamie said, suddenly realizing what was going on. "I called a contest and you won." He thought fast then looked to the other three jocks. "Listen, I need to get to my next round. I give you a contest and the winner gets to keep the prize. That's nine inches or ninety pounds, wherever the winner wants them. Fair enough?"
"Sure," said the jock who'd lost out earlier. The other two quickly nodded.
"Alright," Jamie said, "I'll be in the chess tournament. First guy to bring me a Dr. Pepper is the winner."
They nodded and took off, two in one direction, one in another, while Jamie just went to the chess tournament.
Jamie found himself playing one of the drama class girls, now buxom and leggy, with the improbable name of Roxie. Her opening gambit was quite good. "You've been playing before," he remarked.
"A little," she admitted. "My grandfather taught me." She moved her knight to threaten his bishop.
Jamie moved his bishop back two squares and was about to reach for the clock when suddenly a Dr. Pepper was thrust into his hand. One of the jocks stood there panting and grinning, gaining about fifty pounds of muscle but no taller.
Roxie glanced at his crotch and remarked, "Nice." Then, almost idly, she slid her queen out across the board, taking his bishop. "Check." She slapped the clock.
Jamie looked back at the board. He popped his Dr. Pepper and took a drink, considering what his next move should be. Roxie was very good at this, and he did some quick calculations. Unless he made a misstep, he saw her moving him into checkmate in three moves.
She didn't make any missteps. He moved his king, she moved her queen. He moved a pawn to block, she took it with a knight. He sacrificed his queen, her bishop moved in. "Checkmate," she said and punched the clock.
Jamie suddenly felt as if he'd had the air let out of him. His muscles shrank, his crotch dwindled, and he lowered down in his seat like a beachball with half the air taken out. Roxie, meanwhile, rose up, going to the height of a runway model or female volleyball champion, still shorter than his 6'8", but very close. And her rack and cleaveage were amazing.
"Good match," she said, standing up and looking down slightly on the jock who'd brought the Dr. Pepper.
A moment later, two other breathless jocks panted in, carrying cans and sporting bloody noses.
"Too late," said the first jock.