Hiccups (unfinished)

By Woopsy

 

Sheila was a pretty girl. 21 years old, a chemistry major at the same college her family had attended over the past twenty years. At five feet seven inches tall and 135 pounds, she had blonde hair and brown eyes. Though with her looks she could very easily make a name for herself among the guys on campus, she was perfectly content with the social standing she had. On this day she had just finished her midterm exam in Asian History, when a friend of hers, John, caught up with her outside of the lunchroom.

 

'Sheila!' John called from a distance as he ran towards her. 'Have you heard about what happened in Glevner Hall?' Glevner Hall was the biology department.

 

'No,' Sheila answered. 'What's going on?'

 

'Oh man,' John said, 'some ass vandalized the whole joint. There's glass all over the place, spilled fluid, and smelly shit. Most of it is roped off, but it's a mess.'

 

'Man, how lame is that?' Sheila wondered aloud.

 

'Yeah, pretty bad. Especially since I had all my lab work in that room! Probably all tore up, all that damn work.'

 

Sheila meant to ask John to join her as she went over to the building to examine the damage, but before she could, John explained he had to grab lunch and get to his next class, so off he went.

 

Sheila went to see what the deal was herself. When she got to Glevner Hall, she saw how right John was. There was police, students, staff, and even some reporters, which Sheila though a bit silly. As she climbed the stairs, she saw the now destroyed lab. It was just as John said-yellow tape, glass, and an awful odor.

 

Sheila walked up to the door, but was stopped at the top of the stairs.

 

'No one can go in yet,' a cop said to Sheila.

 

Fine, see if I care, she thought.

 

'This is nothing,' Sheila said to herself, and was just about to leave, when she an interview camera caught her eye. A reporter was talking to Dr. Ghust, the head of the Department. She paused to listen.

 

'Dr. Ghust, was anything truly valuable in this lab?'

 

'Actually, yes. A very important drug we have been researching which will dramatically help suffers of such debilitating conditions as multiple sclerosis, and the like.'

 

'What type of medicine?'

 

'It works with brain impulses to help regenerate and build new muscles. Impulses not unlike the ones present in blinking, hiccups, the knee reflex, or REM sleep. All involve sudden, abrupt impulses sent to the body by the brain. In it still very experimental, however, in that we cannot replicate such an impulse at this time, and the growth factor is uncertain.'

 

Sheila once again found the whole thing to be boring. She coughed, as her throat was very dry, and before going back downstairs, walked down past the destroyed lab, and took a long sip of water form the nearby fountain. As she headed for the stairs, she realized how late she was. Sheila bolted down the stairs and out of the building.

 

About the time she was at the bottom of the stairway, a lab technician emerged form around the corner with a janitor, and, pointing and the water fountain Sheila had just drank from, said, 'Shut this off as well. It was without a doubt contaminated when that shit was busted in there.'

 

Nothing much happened that day for Sheila. She went to her final class of the day right after leaving the idiotic chaos at Glevener Hall. By the time that class was over, it was 4:30--about time to meet her friends in the library to study jointly for their Sociology midterm to be held the next week.

 

The library was not that crowded as Sheila entered the front door and proceeded up the stairs to the normal study location for her group. She found that everyone else had already arrived, though no studying had taken place yet.

 

'Hi Sheila. We have not started anything yet,' said a friend, Trish. Sheila sat down next to Trish and her other friend, Nancy.

 

'Okay ladies,' Sheila began, as she removed her books from her bag. 'Where to begin?'

So they began studying, though it seemed in time that the session had no end—page after page of absurd observation on life. For Sheila the time could not pass more slowly. After about an hour and a half of studying, Trish sighed and closed her book.

 

'I have had enough,' she said. So had Sheila.

 

'Me too,' Sheila agreed, putting her books away. 'Let’s call it a HIC!'

 

Sheila’s eye opened wide as she covered her mouth with her hand--the hiccup took her totally by surprise. Trish and Nancy laughed out loud.

 

'Let’s call it a what?' Nancy asked with a smile. Sheila slapped Nancy on the shoulder.

 

'A night,' Sheila replied, followed by another loud and abrupt, 'HIC!'

 

Sheila slunk down in her chair and covered her mouth with both hands, trying not to be noticed.

 

'Damn it. I have the hiccups.' Sheila whined.

 

Trish and Nancy laughed again at their friends’ suffering.

 

'Someone’s been hitting the wine before studying tonight,' Trish observed, trying to stifle her laughter to avoid disturbing those around her.

 

Sheila took the bait once again, and foolishly opened her mouth to say, 'Oh I have—HIC!—not.'

By this time several people in the surrounding tables looked up at Sheila, as she managed to disturb them three times with her loud spasms.

 

'I hate the hiccups,' she whispered as she rolled her eyes upward.

 

Sheila held her breath in an attempt to get rid of her annoying malady. But Trish and Nancy could not help laughing at Sheila as they sat their and watched her trying to stifle her spasms. There was Sheila, patting her chest and holding her breath, when every couple of seconds her shoulders would rise up, and her head would jerk back ever so slightly, as a hiccup ravaged her again.

 

'The harder you work at stopping them, Sheila, the worse they get,' Trish added between her giggles.

 

'HIC! Shut up, Trish,' was all Sheila could manage to answer. Trish and Nancy laughed again. But Sheila was not laughing. On that last hiccup Sheila had felt very strange—like the hiccups caused her entire body to tingle up and down.

 

Sheila stood up, and told her laughing study mates, 'I do not feel so good. I think I am going to go back to my room and lay down HIC!'

 

Though the tingling sensation had began to fade away, with each hiccup, it returned at full strength. Sheila felt very weird at this point.

 

'HIC!'

 

Sheila sighed as she patted her chest. Trish and Nancy quieted their laughter.

 

'You okay, Sheila?' Nancy asked.

 

'Oh I am fine, I just need to rest and get rid of these hiccups,' Sheila replied. 'I’ll see you guys at dinner--HIC!--Okay?'

 

Trish and Nancy nodded, and looked at each other as Sheila made her way to the stairs, down to the first floor, and out the door, her hiccups catching the attention of several people as she walked by.

 

Sheila walked across campus until she reached her dorm, where several people were standing outside talking. She hiccuped loudly once again and politely covered her mouth with her hand. She felt really odd but assumed it was fatigue. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the key to her dorm, and put it in the lock, entering the building.

 

AS she began to climb the stairs, she cut loose with yet another loud hiccup, and responded in frustration with 'Dammit!' She hated the hiccups.

 

Sheila reached her door, and pulled out her key, feeling she really needed a shower. She opened the door, hiccuped again, and paused to adjust her bra strap, which seemed to be digging into her shoulder right now.

 

'HIC!' was all that came out of Sheila’s mouth as she closed the door to her room.

 

Sheila usually had an abundance of energy. But ever since she ended her study group and gotten back to her room, she felt really beat. And this tingling she kept feeling did not help any either. Sheila sat in the bed, and removed her sneakers, which were very uncomfortable and a bit tight on her. He feet always swelled at the end of a long day.

Just then, the phone rang. Sighing, she got up, padded across the room, and picked up the phone, putting the receiver to her lips.

 

'Hello, this is HIC!' And her hiccups had not gone away yet, damn them. Sheila rolled her eyes and patted her chest, lightly several times, and repeated, after hiccuping to herself again. 'This is Sheila.'

 

On the other end of the phone call was another girl Sheila had communications class with. Which was ironic, because this girl,(her name being Debbie) had the habit of never being able to stop communicating. Or, to put it bluntly, she would never shut up. Through out her conversation with Debbie, Sheila had to excuse herself several times, as she assaulted Debbie with intermittent 'HIC!' noises throughout their 'conversation.' (If you could call it that, Sheila

did not get much in edgewise, other then her hiccups) While Debbie’s rambled on about meaningless crap, Sheila walked about the room, trying to pick up, and take care of a few things, her only response to Debbie being the occasional 'uh huh', and the more frequent, 'HIC!, sorry.'

 

As Debbie talked, Sheila held her breath in an attempt to stop the hiccups which she had had for more then 10 minutes. Every time she would think their course was finally run, Sheila would her guard down, and, 'HIC!' right in Debbie’s ear.

 

Debbie has been rambling on for about 5 minutes, and Sheila continued trying to straighten up, putting papers in folders, throwing clothes in the hamper, pulling down with her free hand on the leg of her white cotton shorts which kept riding up on her tonight. She hated that. She also attempted to get her fan in working order, as it had not worked in a week, and it was no sweltering in the room. Sheila had long since removed her blouse, and was walking comfortable in her bra and her now-constantly riding up shorts.

 

By this time, her hiccups had slowed to annoying, irregular spasms. Sheila was usually able to suppress them, given the fact the were not coming as fast anymore. She tugged at her bra strap, and looked at the clock. God! Debbie had run her mouth to her for 15 minutes.

By some miracle, Debbie paused long enough to actually complete a sentence to Debbie.

'Well Debbie, if he does not understand you, just leave him, it certainly is not worth your time.'

By this time, Sheila had gotten used to the tingling, but was still puzzled by it. She had not hiccuped in about five minutes, and the tingling got worse with each hiccups. So by this time, it had almost subsided, and she was finally rid of her hiccups. And then, just at the moment Sheila was actually going to complete her second full sentence of the conversation, 'Debbie--HIC!'

 

This was indeed a hiccups that caught her buy surprise, more so then any other hiccup, for when this hiccuped ripped through her, she heard a very quick 'creaking' sound, and a loud 'SNAP!!' As the bra that had given her so many problems since getting back to her room snapped form behind, and fell to the floor, causing Sheila’s breasts to simply break free and bounce for a second.

 

The shock of her hiccup, combined with the destruction of her bra, and her sudden full frontal nudity rendered Sheila able to only squeak out an abrupt 'ooh!', as she placed her free arm over her now naked breasts. Her eyes wide open as she looked down at white bra now sitting, strap broken, at her feet.

 

Debbie by this time had giggled and began some lame story about an experience she had had with the hiccups. Sheila however just said, 'Debbie, I’ll see you in class tomorrow, okay? I have to go now.'

 

'Sheila, we do not have class tomorrow, we just—' CLICK. Sheila hung up the phone, and bent over to pick up the clothing that was formally her bra. She looked at is quizzically, wondering just how cheap a K-Mart bra could get.

 

But in actual fact, she was soon too busy to care, for she was jubilant at the fact that her hiccups had finally left her. She chuckled to herself, and walked over to her drawer to pick out another, (more loose fitting) bra then the one she just accidentally destroyed. She tugged down softly at her shorts once again, as she went to chose a new brasserie.

 

Sheila walked over to her chest of drawers and pulled out a large black bra she had borrowed from a sorority sister and had never returned. As she slipped it on she noticed the time—almost 6:30, time to get ready for dinner.

 

Sheila went to her closet to pick out some appropriate clothes. Now, normally she did not bother to change her clothes just for dinner in the lousy cafeteria, but the clothes she had been wearing all day had been uncomfortable on her since lunch and she had to get out of those shorts. She unbuttoned the button on the shorts and unzipped them. Normally, the shorts would have just glided right off of her hips and on to the floor. But, to Sheila’s surprise they didn’t. She began to tug on them slightly to get them to come off, which was of no real help either. She had to wriggle and rotate her hips several times before they would come off. And even them it was not easy. Instead if sliding off of her, Sheila’s waist and hips sort of oozed out of the unusually constricting shorts. I hate it when clothes shrink on me like this, she thought to herself.

Tossing her shorts aside, Sheila pulled on the elastic on her panties as she walked over to her closet to find some clothing for dinner. She grabbed a pair of her loose-fitting jeans, and look through the rack of shirts in her closet. (She had one of those portable, telescopic racks that can be put in any closet for hanging clothes). Her eyes came upon a blue button down shirt that a friend of hers had passed on to her a few months before. Her friend turned out to be allergic to the fabric. Because the friend that gave Sheila the shirt was a bit bigger then Sheila was, the short did not fit perfectly. Sheila always had to roll up the sleeves to it for it to look right. But, this was just dinner, and she did not mind rolling up her sleeves. Who did she have to impress anyway? Just as she removed the shirt form the coat hanger, she dropped it on to the floor of her closet. Shit, she mumbled to herself as she bent over to pick it up. As she brought her head back up after picking up the shirt, she banged it on the portable rack.

 

'Ow,' Sheila squeaked as she rubbed her head. She did not get it. Normally that rack is high enough on the wall of the closet so that she can get under it with no problems. It must have slipped down in the last few weeks.

 

'Piece of shit,' Sheila mumbled as she pushed the rack up higher on the closet wall. Sheila glanced at the clock again as she slipped into her jeans. Then cam the blue shirt. As Sheila put it on, however, she was surprised to see that it fit on her almost perfectly, and that she would not have to roll up the sleeves at all.

 

She cocked her head to the side slightly as she rose her forearms up to the front of her face to examine them. She thought how odd it was for more then one piece of clothing to shrink like that, though the blue shirt had not been in her last load of laundry. But seeing as how she was running late, she tucked the short into her jeans, quickly put it out of her mind, and left her dorm room, locking the door behind her.

 

In the lunchroom she did not see any of her friends yet. They must be running late too. So she grabbed a tray and set off to see just what slop she was in for this evening. Upon filling her plate with hot slop, Sheila walked over to the juice machine. To her disappointment a sign was on it, which read, OUT OF ORDER. Sheila rolled her eyes, annoyed. That meant she would have to drink soda, which she preferred not to. But she was thirsty, so she filled her glass with Sprite and proceeded to find a table. She waited for a few more minutes for her friends. But that night she was hungrier then she had been in a long time, so before too long, she dug into her slop.

Sheila surprised herself at just how fast and powerfully she attacked the food! Especially since she was not sure what it was. She stifled a large belch a few minutes in to her meal. She felt so guilty eating like a pig, but she could not help it. Man was she hungry. After several large bites of meat(?), Sheila went for her drink. In the quickness of the moment she forgot that she did not have her usually fruit juice, and gulped down the Sprite. The carbonation tickled her throat, and she had to put it down to let the tickling sensation go away. Just as she was about to cut her meat for another huge bite, Sheila cut loose with a loud, abrupt, HIC!.

 

Surprised by her the noise that just came shooting out of her, Sheila put down her silverware and covered her mouth with both hands looking around the room with wide eyes to see if anyone had noticed her powerful, uncontrolled spasm. Sure enough, a few faces turned around for a moment and looked in her direction, as one might if they heard a car back fire, and then proceeded to go back to their meals, some chuckling momentarily to themselves.

 

Sheila herself was not chuckling, but slunk down into her chair further. Carbonated drinks always did that to her. Gave her the hiccups almost every time. Sheila just sat there for a while trying to suppress her spasms, her shoulders jerking back, and her head jolting forward ever so slightly with each hiccup. Until she let her guard down and she would HIC! to the entire campus once again, each time, mild embarrassment overtaking her. But after about a minute of this, Sheila’s attention turned away form her embarrassment, for the tingling sensation she had experienced before had returned, growing stronger with each progressive hiccup that shot out of her mouth. She felt really strange. As she sat there, hiccuping, Sheila felt some strange things. For one, her socks kept sliding down her legs. She liked her socks pulled up, but they kept slipping down for some reason. And her panties were riding up on her, so to speak. That really annoyed her, but it would not be very ladylike to correct that problem in front of so many people. Most of all, however, she felt lighted headed. As if her head were actually floating slowly upwards as she sat there. Not much, but the feeling was there.

 

'Man, it’s—HIC!—hot,' she said to herself between hiccups. Just then, form across the lunchroom, Sheila heard someone call. She turned around to see who it was, and as she did, banged her knee on the leg of the table. She uncrossed her legs as she rubbed her knee to soothe the pain. It was dumb to cross her legs under the table, though this must be a shorter table. She always had room to do that before.

 

HIC! Sheila patted her chest gently and stood up finally, calling to her friends, 'I’m over—HIC!—here.' She cupped her hand to her mouth as she stood up to go and meet her friends as they got their trays. Sheila pulled tugged down on the sleeves of her shirt as she walked towards her friends. She did not notice that her short had become untucked as she sat at the dinner able. 'HIC! Damn I hate these—HIC!—things.'

 

Sheila knew she was gonna take some ribbing from her friends again. This was the second time that day she had gotten the hiccups and it just so happened that the same girls that were there the first time were there again. She would try to suppress them as long as she could.

Trish walked up to her first,

 

'Sheila, where are you siting?'

 

'That table,' she managed to say, as she pointed towards the table she had her food on. Trish walked over and set her books down on the table, and went back to the line to get her food.

 

'Be right back,' she called to Sheila.

 

Sheila nodded as she suppressed a hiccup. She really didn’t want that embarrassment again.

'HIC!' That damn soda. She finally decided to head for the water fountain on the other end of the cafeteria. Water did not usually help her, but sometimes it did. Adjusting her bra strap, Sheila made her way to the other side of the room.

 

There was a small group at the water fountain, who may not have noticed her, until of course,

 

'HIC!' Sheila quickly covered her mouth.

 

'Move out of the way, guys, it looks like someone could use some water,' one of the people in the group said as the walked away.

 

By this time Sheila’s face was a light red. Exactly what she did not need, since nervousness tending to only add to her hiccup problems. This was no exception. Before she got to the fountain, the hiccups came in what seemed like double time—'HIC! Hic-UP! Hilk!'—every second or so. She would have gotten the drink and left, but the tingling feeling was reaching an all-time high. Overcome, she sat down on the floor by the fountain, and hiccuped a storm. She was feeling to strange to be embarrassed though. She felt light headed and at time she felt herself moving, though she knew she was standing still. She sweated slightly and felt a bit bloated. But in a few seconds, the hiccups slowed again, and she felt more in control. 'HIC!' shot from her once again, but she barley responded this time. She just bent over to get her drink. Maybe, just maybe…

 

As she bent over to drink, her panties really started to move up on her, as it were. She felt them slide slowly over her buttocks as she drank. If this kept up, she would be wearing a thong by the end of the day. So she finished her drink, and discreetly 'removed' her panties from where they had snuck into. All women get wedgies, she thought, but this was happening a lot today. More importantly though, her hiccups did in fact seem to be gone, and she started to walk back to the table. A little dizzy for some reason, but otherwise feeling fine. She tucked in her shirt, and went back to her friends.

 

Her hiccups gone and the tingling sensation finally subsided, Sheila managed to get through dinner without major incident. She still felt strange throughout the meal, however. She seemed clumsier then normal, twice spilling a drink, and knocking a plate on to the floor, shattering it. And she kept banging her knee under the table, which started to hurt after 3 times. Like she was not quite as in control of her movements as she wanted to be. And her clothing was clingy which made her a bit uncomfortable. The loose fitting jeans were not noticeably fitting any different on her legs and such then they had been, but the waist felt like it dug into Sheila’s hips more then she liked. And these damn panties! What was with them tonight? She did not try to rectify the wedgie at dinner as it slowly rode up on her again. Why bother, it seemed to be a theme for the day. Sheila let her panties where they were. Besides, she had never worn a real thong before, and secretly to herself, she found it a bit erotic.

Everything she dismissed as fatigue once again, the bloating and the extreme hunger she had experience come mealtime, plus the tingling and the clumsiness. But this time she was not about to write everything off. Something was up, and she wanted to be sure what it was. After she left the dining room, she made an appointment with the campus health house for a routine check up.

 

In actual fact, however, in the week that followed between her dizzy spell in the dining room and her appointment, things began to feel better from Sheila’s view. She went out early in the week and bought some new clothes, (the old ones were shrinking or something) and even bought her self a proper pair of thong panties, given the very small exciting they caused her during the day of many wedgies. (Just one pair though. She was not eccentric.) Plus, the clumsiness she experienced those few days seems to have gone away, and she had had no more tingling or dizziness for days. Her friends had even said how much better she looked that week—they thought she looked more alive, more confident. She physically had a larger more confident presence, though Sheila did not know what subtle change might have caused it. Perhaps it was the new clothes. At any rate, Sheila’s appointment was within 20 minutes, and she was on her way to the health center.

 

Sheila walked outside in the brisk autumn air, chewing a piece of gum. As she walked through the commons area. She saw her friend John sitting their, strumming a guitar.

 

'Johnny!' she called.

 

John looked up and raised his hand in greeting, then went back to playing music. Sheila walked over to him.

 

'What are you trying to play?' she asked him.

 

'Original piece, a country western thing. Where are you headed?'

 

'Doctors, just a routine check up,' Sheila replied, smacking away at her gum extra loud, to annoy John intentionally. 'I am not sick or anything,'

 

Successfully annoyed, John said, 'Not physically, but you could stop it with the little mental problem you have with the gum!'

 

Sheila laughed at nearly swallowed her gum, half-choking on it.

 

'Ah! You get what you deserve for that crap!' John stated.

 

Sheila began to make a come back, but—'JHICCULP!' was all that came out, as Sheila put both hands up to her mouth, and giggled slightly.

 

'Exactly,' John said, laughing.

 

'HILK! Gum always does—HIC!—does it,' Sheila said hiccuping.

 

'Maybe if you had not tried to annoy the piss out of me with it!'

 

'I have gotten the hiccups more—HIC!—in the last w—ILK!—then I have in my life, it seems—HIC-UP!' Sheila observed, though she had not gotten them since the dizzy spell the previous week.

 

'You know, intimate contact has been know to cure hiccups,' John said, standing up.

 

'Goodbye John,' Sheila said, walking away.

 

'Let me cure you Sheila! Hey, that sounds like a song!' John called as he went back to his playing.

 

'Goodbye—HIC! Goodbye, John!' Sheila called over her shoulder as another hiccups jerked her, and she patted her chest.

 

The medical building was just ahead, and Sheila let loose with another spasm just as she reached for the door, causing some people on the path in front of the building to look. She covered her mouth as she entered the building. At the moment she suppressed another hiccup as she took a chair in the waiting room, the tingling she had not felt for a week began to return, very slightly.

 

Sheila put her hands to her stomach.

 

'HIC! uuh,' she groaned, as she excused herself.

 

Just then, the door to the medical center flew open, followed by the sound of a girl screaming in what seemed to be pain. Sheila leaped back, as the scream scared the shit out of her. A large man carrying a girl in a cheerleader outfit burst in, the guy yelling, 'I think her foot is broken! Someone help!'

 

A nurse escorted the two of them to a room in the back. In the commotion, Sheila forgot about the tingling, and the sudden fright knocked the hiccups right out of her. She sat back in the chair and waited for her name to be called. Looking down at her breasts she noticed something awry, but did not know what it was. She picked up a three-year old Newsweek and waited.

 

As she waited, Sheila went to discreetly 'fix' her underwear, until she remembered she was wearing a thong for the first time. An odd thing to get used to. However she did have to adjust her bra strap, and just as she moved everything around in front of her, the nurse called her name. With that, Sheila put down the magazine, stood up, tucked her shirt in, and walked back to the examining room. The nurse asked her to take a seat and told her the doctor would be back shortly. As requested, Sheila stripped to her undergarments to prepare for the physical. The nurse left the room and shut the door.

 

For a minute or two, Sheila just sat there, looking at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the door. But as she looked at herself, something struck her. Her breasts seemed to be swollen, and in fact so did many parts of her body. She stood up, and walked closer to the mirror, curious at the site.

 

First she bent over forwards, and looks at her breasts, which were indeed, a bit snug, in her bra, though not to the point of painful. Then she stood up, and turned, looking at her profile. She was quite lean and trim, she thought to herself, yet not overly muscular—she never liked that look. She then turned around, and noticed just how large and thick her thighs were. She caught her breath slightly as she spotted their reflection. She had been jogging that semester, and she knew that would probably improve tone, but this was the first time she ever took stock of just how different she looked. As she turned around 180 degrees, to look at her buns, she almost felt faint—there just seemed so much more there then before. She could not tell if running had made her buns appear this way, or the several times she was naughty and had a few more donuts then were necessary in the coffee shop down the road. Either way she liked what she saw, and was a bit turned on by it, until she realized just how embarrassing it was to be turned on by one’s own reflection.

 

She chuckled and kind of hopped back on the table, with a thud louder then she expected, and she cringed, thinking she was about to be in trouble,. but there was no damage, and no one came to investigate the noise. Lucky for her.

 

At that point, the Doctor, Judy Williams entered. Sheila requested her personally, for she felt more comfortable with her then with any of the others and she did not like being with male doctors. Paranoid garbage, she knew, but it was her none the less.

 

'Hello Sheila, ' Williams said. 'And how are we feeling?'

 

Sheila explained the dizziness and the tingling she had felt a few times in the last week or so. As she talked, the doctor had her weighed, and measured her height. She also had a nurse come in to draw some blood—the normal run-of-the-mill physical. When all was said and done, Sheila asked for the doc’s opinion.

 

'Well, Sheila, so far everything seems to be normal. No concussion, or signs of illness. We are going to check your blood, of course. The only thing different about you then when you took your freshman physical is that you seem to have grown 2 inches in the last year.'

 

Sheila was kind of stymied.

 

'But I am in my 20’s. Should I be having growth spurts like that, Doctor?'

 

'It’s not unheard of.'

 

Dr. Williams’ smile and ready response surprised Sheila. She shifted her seat on the exam table. The air conditioning in the campus clinic offices was over-enthusiastic and she reached behind herself to close the gap in her gown that exposed her back.

 

'Late growth spurts aren’t common, but you wouldn’t be the first to experience them,' Williams went on. 'There are records of people experiencing unexpected surges in height in their thirties. Sometimes the change is caused by trauma. Ginny Bunford, for example, suffered a broken skull at age thirteen that traumatized her pituitary gland, and she grew from five feet to seven-foot-seven by the age of nineteen—which, by the way, put her in Ripley’s.' Williams hooked her stethoscope around her neck in a well-practiced motion. 'You obviously haven’t experienced anything like that, so you fall into the other category: people who enjoy a brief growth spurt after they typically achieve maturity. Have you felt any aches or pains in your joints? How about in your knees and elbows? Just a general tingling sensation?'

 

Sheila nodded in the affirmative. Williams’ smile broadened.

 

'Sheila, I don’t think you have anything to worry about,' she said. 'You certainly don’t have any symptoms indicative of any gross neurological disorders. I expect that when your current growth spurt ends the tingling sensation will end, too. Two inches in a year is an above-average growth rate, especially at your age, but it isn’t very fast.'

 

Sheila felt giddy. Everything now made sense, after a fashion—her way her clothes seemed to have shrunk, her recent clumsiness, the impression that she looked bigger when she saw her image in her room mirror, even the weird sensation a week ago at dinner in the cafeteria when she felt like she was rising in her chair—it all had to do with her body growing bigger. But Williams was wrong—she was five feet seven inches tall until just over a week ago, and now she was five-nine. She looked at Williams while she tried to think of a way to explain what she had actually experienced in the last few days. How do you say that you suddenly grew two inches taller in a week’s time seven years after you thought puberty had finished with you? How about when she (Sheila felt her heart leap at the thought) actually felt her body growing? Should she even tell? Her imagination went into overdrive. 'But, Doc, all my new growth happened last week.' It sounded so ridiculous—so nuts—that Sheila felt her face warm at the thought of it. She looked up when she realized she had been silent for too long. She looked up at the doctor.

 

'I’m five-foot nine, now?' she asked. Williams nodded, her narrowed eyes broadening into an amused expression at the incredulity in Sheila’s voice.

 

'Five feet, nine-and-a-quarter inches, to be precise,' she replied. 'And you gained almost ten pounds.' She opened her mouth as if to say something more, then nodded and smiled again. 'The results of the blood tests should be available in a couple of days. If there is anything unusual I’ll be sure to call you and let you know. Did you give the admitting nurse your room phone number? Good. Now, if you experience any dizziness or numbness in any part of your extremities, come back in right away.'

 

With her textbooks held firmly across her front Sheila automatically returned the smile of the receptionist at the clinic entrance and stepped in the admin building hallway. Her mind was torn between the discomfort of her now-too-tight running shoes and the remarkable distraction of her body having suddenly, inexplicably grown bigger. As she stepped out through the nearest exit and into the bright sunshine illuminating the Quadrangle she found herself looking at every person who went by. She now recognized the peculiar disorientation that had been nagging at her for the last few days: it was her eyes being two inches higher than before that made things look different. It was amazing what just two inches of added height did to one’s perception, she thought. She found herself walking towards the hub of the Quad and the broad-limbed oak tree that dominated its center.

 

'Hey, girlfriend!' Her friend Trish slipped into her line of vision, a grin on her face. 'How’d it go?'

 

'Huh? How did what go?' Sheila replied, startled out of her reverie by her friend’s question. Trish stopped in the middle of the pathway, obliging Sheila to do the same. They quickly found themselves an island amid flowing bodies—the morning lectures must have just let out and the exiting students were using the Quad for its traditional purpose. Trish cocked one eyebrow momentarily at Sheila’s apparent obtuseness. Then her grin slowly faded. She took a half-step closer to Sheila until only a foot or so separated them. Her eyes began to travel up and down Sheila’s frame. Sheila felt an instant, irrational urge to fold in upon herself at her friend’s frank inspection. A distraction was needed.

 

'What?' Sheila asked. Trish blinked. Her mouth opened as if to say something, then shut again. Her grin returned.

 

'How’d it go at the clinic? The docs give you a clean bill of health?'

 

'Oh,' Sheila replied. She was unable to keep her relief out of her voice but Trish didn’t notice. 'Yeah, Doctor Williams cleared me. Says I’m fine. They took some blood for tests, though.'

 

'Blood tests? Sheila, are you sure you’re okay?'

 

Sheila shrugged in her best theatric style. 'Uh-huh. No problems.'

 

'What about your hiccuping?'

 

Sheila shrugged. 'I didn’t mention it. I haven’t hiccuped in a week, you know.'

 

'Okay, okay,' Trish said, throwing up her hands dramatically in surrender. 'Are you cutting all your morning classes, too?'

 

'Huh?'

 

'Don’t you have Carmody this morning?'

 

Sheila winced. She had forgotten about her morning classes. Doctor Julian Carmody was the tyrant of the postgraduate Psychology department, combining a bullet-proof reputation and near-adoration by his peers, a vague instruction technique and phenomenal demands for attendance and punctuality into a detrimental package for the student body at large. Carmody seemed to consider each event of absenteeism or tardiness as a personal insult and he had no problems publicly berating students for each crime. Sheila looked automatically at her wrist. Her wristwatch, the one with the metal band, had been a tight fit this morning and she had forgone wearing any timepiece at all.

 

'It’s after ten,' Trish said helpfully. Sheila squelched her annoyance at her friend’s amused expression. In her original worries over the changes she had experienced over the last week she had intended to cut Carmody’s lecture, but her visit at the clinic had taken less time than she thought. With no excuse to miss his latest dissertation there was no choice but to rush to the lecture hall and endure Carmody’s ire.

 

'Thanks,' she replied, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. 'I’ll see you later.'

 

Sheila ignored Trish’s wave and stepped quickly. Even as she oriented in the direction of the lecture hall she found herself noticing just how much more ground she seemed to cover with each step. The phenomenon occupied her attention until she was nearly at the steps leading into Grosvenor Hall and Carmody’s class.

 

'Hey, Sheila,' a familiar voice called. Sheila turned as John bounced up beside her, his ever-present guitar slung across his back. 'What’s the rush?'

 

'I’ve got Carmody,' she replied. 'I’m already late.'

 

John whistled.

 

'My sympathies,' he said. His grin lost none of its impudence. 'Hey, wait up.'

 

Sheila heard him chewing loudly on something as they stepped into the coolness of the Hall. His distended cheek gave her the impression that he was working on more than one piece of gum. Confirmation came when he quickly blew a large, bright purple bubble that swayed dangerously under his nose in the breeze of their passage down the hallway.

 

'Keep that up and you’re going to be wearing that,' Sheila observed. John popped the bubble and expertly reclaimed the goo flopping on his chin. His grin was boyish.

 

'Here’s the dungeon,' he announced. They both came to a stop before the door to Carmody’s classroom. 'Here, want to try some?'

 

Sheila looked down. John had conjured a piece of gum. Sheila found herself debating whether to accept his offer—she had not chewed gum in years. John’s grin grew bigger.

 

'It’s just gum,' he said in a deliberately overloud voice. 'It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me or something.'

 

Sheila snorted—and grabbed the gum.

 

'Thanks, John,' she replied. A smirk grew on her face. 'We’ll have sex later.'

 

John’s eyes grew large as saucers and a flush exploded under his skin. He waved his hand noncommittally as he resumed his journey down the hallway. Sheila had to stifle a laugh at his sudden, complete discomfiture—the strength of his reaction was surprising. While she had always liked John and their relationship had been one of casual friendship she could not help the feeling that he was suddenly much more interested in her than usual. She paused, her hand on the knob of the door leading into the lecture hall as she looked at his retreating figure. Nothing between them had changed—except for the fact that she was two inches taller. She looked down at herself. Now it was her turn to blush. Her cleavage was obvious inside her borrowed bra, pressing roundly against the front of her T-shirt. She leaned forward a little more. Her denims were hugging her curves below her waist, outlining her hips and offering a surprisingly seductive appearance down her front. Her waist was the biggest surprise, though, because she now had none—the roundness that typically described her belly had disappeared, leaving the front of her jeans lying against a near-flat waist. Embarrassment began to compete with conceit as she noticed just how high the hems of her denims was now, revealing her shoe tops—and her ankles. A high, nasal voice coming through the door interrupted her thoughts. Carmody had begun his class. Sheila sighed, and twisted the doorknob.

 

Carmody’s class was held in the oldest lecture hall on the campus, its amphitheater-like dimensions and steep rows of seats affording an uninterrupted view of the lectern. Sheila stepped into the room quickly, angling for the nearest steps up into the sparsely-occupied audience area. Her progress was swiftly interrupted by Carmody, who stopped his discourse and half-dashed across the lecture well to stand before her.

 

'And who have we here? Late, are we?' he demanded, his voice echoing up to the ceiling. Carmody was small and pencil-thin, his skin dark from a generous amount of time in the sun. Sheila noticed that his waist-length hair had been recently washed, and the noxious odor that often surrounded him was absent. Carmody had adopted Indian dress and personal habits—he often extolled the virtues of his vegetarian diet and yoga regimen to his students—and the gaily-bright print of the sari wrapped about his hipless middle almost covered the sandals on his feet.

 

'I’m sorry, Professor,' she began contritely. 'I got caught up in something on the way here.'

 

'Caught up in something, huh?' Carmody snorted in reply. 'Well, Sheila—it is Sheila, is it not?—we need to do something about this—'

 

Carmody had stomped one stride closer to Sheila, his head tilting back to keep eye contact with her. His expression was an open warning that he was working himself up into one of his hissy fits. As Sheila returned his angry gaze she noticed that his eyes seemed to grow a little wider on either side of his bulbous nose. He opened his mouth and began to speak, but stopped abruptly. Sheila felt a sudden urge to giggle—Carmody was reputed to have a phenomenal memory for his students, and it occurred to her that he realized he was craning his head more than usual to maintain eye contact with her. It was a little difficult for Sheila to understand—she was only two inches taller, for crying out loud, but Carmody looked at her like she had doubled in size. Anger, then puzzlement and finally wonder wandered across his face. He blinked more than once. The parade of faces he made caused Sheila’s amusement to quickly peak, and she smiled. Carmody saw her smile. His face instantly became a mask of professional disinterest.

 

'We are here to learn, yes?' he announced loudly as he turned squeaking on his heel and stepped more deliberately back in the direction of the lectern. Sheila almost sighed audibly and stepped into the audience, slipping into the nearest empty seat.

 

'Today, my students, we are going to discuss metaphysics as the topic relates to relationships,' Carmody said. Sheila slipped out her notebook and a pen, shifting in the wooden seat she had chosen. She quickly found a distraction from the lecture as her knees thumped against the back of the seat in front of her solidly. Carmody looked up in her direction without breaking the stride of his speech, then turned to the blackboard.

 

'In a close relationship of any kind, there is an opportunity to achieve a mutual intimacy which provides growth for both partners, my students,' he continued. 'Failing to do so usually ensures that the opportunity will not present itself again. Often, in marriages, families and friendships, problems arise due to neglect or misuse of this opportunity. The person who has shown their weakness and been rejected, ridiculed or ignored will shut down. The individual who choose not to accept this gesture of intimacy has usually done so due to lack of tolerance of their own emotional reaction to it.'

 

Sheila shifted in her seat again. The length of her legs was making sitting in the hard wooden seat more of a challenge than she had anticipated, and she finally opted for a sideways stance in the chair that allowed her to keep her ladylike posture without the discomfort of her kneecaps pressing against the back of the person directly in front of her. Carmody continued to drone on, scribbling on the board with his crabbed, scrawling hand. The squeaking of old wood told how several of her classmates were leaning in their chairs in an effort to better read his notes. Sheila tried to follow their example but Carmody was more boring than usual today and it took only a short time before her mind started to wander.

 

Sheila’s eye wandered to the stick of gum John had given her. She shrugged, unwrapped it and popped the gum in her mouth. As its color advertised it was grape-flavored—a very sharp, sour grape flavor. She swallowed more than once to clear the sting of the taste from her tongue, all the while rolling ideas for revenge against John inside her head for giving her such a thing. Carmody had slipped fully into his teaching mode, clearly oblivious to his class as he hurriedly scribbled more notes on the board. Sheila had swallowed her mouth dry and chomped the gum to moisten it once more. She sighed as the flavor of the gum diminished to a more reasonable level and squinted at the words straying across the board—

 

 

 

'HIC!'

 

 

 

The hiccup was very loud in the room. Sheila half-jumped from her chair at the sensation of it. As she looked around she felt herself blush—half the class had been distracted by the noise. She nodded in apology and settled herself in her seat again.

 

'HIC! HIC!' Sheila felt a third spasm begin to work its way up her middle and she gulped down her breath to stop it. The pressure seemed to build inexorably for a moment, then it diminished away, to be replaced by a familiar tingling sensation that she had not experienced in over a week.

 

'Oh, no,' she moaned softly—'HIC!'

 

Sheila’s mouth suddenly went completely dry. The tingling felt different this time than she remembered—stronger, more pervasive. The sensation of lightheadedness also returned now, and in force. Sheila closed her eyes to battle it. 'HIC! HIC-CUP!'

 

The tingling redoubled. Sheila almost felt faint as that weird vertigo flooded her body. Every other member of the class that she could see had turned in their seats and were looking at her. She clapped her hands over her mouth and willed the tension below her ribs to go away. It didn’t.

 

'HIC! HIC-KLE! HIC-CUP! HIC!'

 

A new sensation called her attention as she held her breath again. She looked down. Her denims were gripping her thighs with more force than before. God, she had filled out in just the few minutes she’d been hiccuping? She tried to inhale deeply through her nose. Doing so warned her that her borrowed bra was now snugger than before, almost to the point of discomfort. The sight of her bosom pressing out firmly against her front made her go flame-red with embarrassment. She had to do something.

 

A water bottle appeared in her line of vision. Sheila snatched it and brought it to her lips. She quickly swallowed it down, pausing once for breath and losing her gum down her throat in the process. In a few seconds the bottle was empty and Sheila sucked in a grateful breath of air.

 

'Breathe in through your nose,' a voice suggested. Sheila nodded as she did so.

 

'Best class Carmody’s had all year,' another voice whispered conspiratorially. A titter followed his pronouncement. Hearing the instructor’s name made Sheila look at the lectern. Carmody was still humming along, completely ignorant of her preoccupation. Relief flooded her as she realized that he had not taken notice of her hiccups and that the tension in her belly seemed to be easing. She nodded gratefully to the water bearer, who accepted back his empty bottle with a smile.

 

Sheila tried to settle herself back in her seat and resume taking notes, but new diversions prevented her from doing so. The tingling sensation was still present, rippling through her middle and limbs. It became so strong in her hands and feet that it reminded her of the pins-and-needles feeling she got once when her foot fell asleep. The tension in her belly made a reappearance, but not from the need to hiccup—Sheila found herself wrestling with a strange sensation of anxiety as she inspected herself. It was now obvious to her that her body had swelled again, and more forcefully than before. The thighs of her denims felt like they were painted on. She tried shifting in her seat and found the crotch of her jeans gripping at her private places more than comfort would allow. The unwelcome sensation of a wedgie warned that her butt and hips must have grown more—and the sensation was becoming even stronger. She stifled a gasp as she looked down her front. Even through her breathing she could tell her breasts had also become more engorged. As she tried to slow her breathing she thought she could make out a weird pulsing against the fabric of her t-shirt as her boobs now filled that black bra to capacity and beyond.

 

I’m still growing, she thought. Why am I still growing? It happened so fast this time, much faster than before. Why am I still growing? She looked up at the classroom clock. Carmody was only fifteen minutes into his lecture and the class still has two hours to go. What if I don’t stop? she wondered.

 

And so...

 

==========

 

Sheila found herself glancing around the lecture hall over and over. She only half-heard Professor Carmody as he droned on behind the lectern. Jeff, the class clown, was in his usual form three seats away, offering his sotto voce imitation of Carmody’s nasal tenor to the amusement of the students around him. The rest of the class were already zoning out of the lecture, shifting in their seats and riffling through their notepapers. She sighed. Looking about did not help—the sensation of her clothing becoming ever more snug on her was too strong and demanded her full attention.

 

Sheila looked down at herself. Her eyes told her what she already felt—that her T-shirt was becoming tighter on her frame. The cup seams of her bra—the bra she borrowed, that was a full cup size bigger than her normal measure—were very obviously outlined against the taut cotton fabric of the shirt and the stretch wrinkles across her front were slowly disappearing against her expanding chest. As she watched new folds began to appear just below her arms and reaching around her sides, warning that her shoulders were also testing the fabric’s strength. Sheila shrugged in an effort to ease the cramping only to have cloth bunch up in her armpits. She gulped again and tried to take a deep breath. Discomfort stopped her—the shirt now gripped her chest too firmly. Only the flexibility of the cloth wrapped around her middle allowed her to breathe at all. The feeling of a draft warned that her T-shirt had come untucked from her waist. Unhindered, the fabric slipped abruptly up her front, exposing her navel and bunching more cloth under her arms. She tried pulling her shirtfront down. Her shirttail promptly came free, exposing her back. She tried tugging it again. It was no use—her torso must also have joined in the growth parade, lengthening and stretching. How much worse can this get? she thought miserably.

 

As if in response her lower half took center stage by pushing against the restraint of her denims. She could feel her pants pinching her waist and hips, pressing against her front, squeezing her thighs. Shifting in her seat to get more comfortable was a mistake—the seam between her legs swiftly dug into her inner corners and pried her butt cheeks apart. She stifled a squeak of surprised dismay as she tried pushing at the fabric covering her thighs, but the legs of her denims were so snug they felt like they were painted on. A frantic effort to grip the cloth around her knees was also a failure. Adding insult to injury her legs were stuffed so badly into her jeans it was cutting off circulation to her feet, making them numb.

 

Sheila found herself shifting in her seat again and again. She could not remember feeling so confined and scared and miserable. Pen and notepad were dropped to the floor as she tried pulling at her clothing, but it was a forlorn effort—her body had expanded so much that every stitch she wore felt at least two sizes too small. It suddenly occurred to her how she must look, wriggling in her chair in her more-than-skin-tight clothes. She felt her cheeks warm at the thought. A pinch and rumble from her middle told how she was suddenly hungry—no, not hungry, starving. Sheila tried to swallow away the rumble, but it repeated itself, more loudly. Her embarrassment grew until her face and neck felt hot. She looked around quickly. To her immense relief her apparent, sudden change in size seemed to have gone unnoticed by her classmates. Carmody was standing at the front of the lecture well beside the podium, his arms drooping at his sides, staring blankly at the ceiling as his monotone filtered across the room. For the first time since she had signed up for his class Sheila was grateful for Carmody’s soporific teaching style. Then the wall clock caught her eye, and she paled. Only fifteen minutes had elapsed since her hiccup attack—the class still had an hour and three-quarters to go. She looked down at herself again. God, her clothing had gotten so tight and uncomfortable, and so quickly. How was it possible?

 

'You okay?' a voice said in her ear. Sheila looked up. Her neighbor, a carrot-haired undergrad perhaps two years younger than she, was looking at her curiously. His eyebrows shot up near his hairline at her crimson-skinned reaction to his question.

 

'Yeah, uh, yeah, I’m okay,' she managed to reply after a few seconds. Her stomach growled again, adding to her embarrassment. She found herself staring at the second hand of the clock as it went around and around. When will this class be over?

 

Sheila’s relief at Carmody’s class finally ending was tempered by the binding constriction of her clothing. Standing erect had brought some relief from the discomfort in her crotch at the cost of revealing just how much bigger and bulkier her legs were—she felt her jeans mold themselves from butt to calves in an intimate embrace that resisted loosening. Her overtight T-shirt mashed her boobs painfully against her ribs and she hunched forward to ease the sensation of having her feminine assets plastered across her chest. The passage of other students slipping past reminded her that there was now a gap between the tail of her T-shirt and the waistband of her denims. Her stomach gurgled its emptiness again. It sounded like a freight train running inside her middle. Sheila abandoned her notebook and pen, lying on the floor. She stepped gingerly in her too-tight running shoes, filing down the stairs to the floor of the hall. Carmody was offering a last-minute exhortation to his class, shaking his finger at the assemblage as they passed him. As Sheila walked past him he suddenly fell silent and stared up at her. She felt a shiver run up her spine—a shiver that had nothing to do with the cool air wrapping around her exposed front. Carmody’s frozen, wide-eyed expression was eloquent testimony to the fact that she was noticeably bigger now than when she arrived for class. How is it possible? she thought. How much more did I grow? How much more could I have grown?

 

Under the circumstances attending her afternoon class did not seem to be a good idea. Sheila turned in the direction of her on-campus apartment. A few moments’ motion restored the blood flow down her legs and her feet began to ache as she walked. How much worse can this get? she thought, shortening her stride with each step as the crushing sensation inside her running shoes grew more demanding and strident. When she realized that her hesitant, mincing gait was drawing attention she decided she had to stop somewhere and she turned towards a park bench set beside the walk. She sat down—and got an instant, very uncomfortable wedgie. Sheila cursed softly. She strained to lift one leg up on the bench and reached for her shoelace. Her jeans dug painfully into her belly and hips and the sheer grip of her pantleg forced her to straighten her limb. She heard herself give off a very unfeminine grunt and tried again, and again. On the fourth attempt she managed to grab the tail of one lace and tug the bowknot free. Sheila quickly switched legs. Her feet seemed to sense their impending freedom and began to twitch inside her shoes. The pain was incredible. Sheila dropped both feet to the walkway. She stamped one shoe on the heel of the other, and flexed. It slipped free of its confinement with an audible pop. The relief was immediate, and another minute’s struggle found her other foot free.

 

Sheila wiggled her toes inside her knee-highs. The cramping in her feet eased almost immediately and she sighed deeply, blinking tears out of her eyes. After a moment her feet felt normal and she sat as upright as her overtight pants would allow. If she was going to save her stockings she would have to take them off before—

 

Sheila stopped. Her mouth dropped open. Why did her shoes look so small compared to her feet? Even her unpracticed eye told her that there was no way she could fit them on again. It was a miracle she had not damaged something just walking in them this far. Even as she wiggled her toes experimentally they seemed to spread and lengthen. Sheila blinked. Was it her imagination, or did she just see her foot grow bigger? She looked again. It must have been her imagination. Yes, they were too big for her shoes, but nothing grows that fast—

 

The smell of cooking food grabbed her attention. She lifted her nose and sniffed. It was coming from the Super Dog kiosk just down the walkway. Instantly her stomach cramped—she’d forgotten how hungry she was. Sheila grabbed up her shoes and half-ran to the kiosk. There was enough in her wallet for three hot dogs with everything. Sheila was just able to balance the contents of each sandwich as she wolfed down the food. She could feel her stomach filling as she swallowed one mouthful after another. In one minute she finished, cramming the tail of the last hot dog down her throat. Sheila could not remember when an ordinary pushcart hot dog tasted so good and she felt a smile crease her mussed face. She dabbed a napkin at the errant fragments of sauerkraut and onions that had fallen on her shirtfront.

 

'Fuck me,' a low voice said in her ear. Sheila looked up. Her skin instantly went hot as she saw a circle of people surrounding her in a circle, their eyes fixed on her. Some still held uneaten food in their hands. The speaker, a student she did not recognize, was staring her up and down, leering with near-open admiration on his face. Then Sheila noticed something else, and a chill ran down her spine again. There were eight people around her, and she was the tallest person in the group. She turned her face away from the others and began to walk to her apartment as quickly as her very uncomfortable jeans would allow.

 

Sheila closed the front door with one hand and grabbed at the hem of her T-shirt with the other. She managed to get the shirt off as far as her bustline. There it resisted her efforts. She tugged upwards with both hands and was rewarded by a crushing pain across her chest. She tried finessing the fabric up over her bosom, but it was still too tight. Inside of a minute Sheila found herself panting from the exertion and the stricture wrapped around her chest by the bunched up cloth wrapped around her ribs. She tried to grip the shirt by the shoulders and pulled, but the wrapping was too tight. Sheila tried to pull the shirt back down. It got as far as the bottom of her ribs before it slipped from her grasp. She began to mutter with each breath as she struggled with the now-incredibly tight embrace of the garment, hauling at it with both hands and all the strength she could muster, her efforts throwing her off-balance more than once and forcing her into an erratic dance to keep her feet.

 

'Holy shit! Hey, Sheila, what’re you doing?'

 

Sheila stopped. Trish and Nancy were standing in the threshold of the front door, paper bags bearing the symbol of the Golden Arches in their hands. Both of them were staring at her, dumfounded expressions on their faces. As Sheila turned fully to face them, she saw Trish’s eyes boggle. Nancy’s expression became concerned.

 

'What—' Sheila began.

 

'We were going to eat lunch in Trish’s room when we heard you cussing a blue streak in here,' Nancy said. 'The door was unlocked. What’s going on? Are you all right?'

 

Sheila let her arms fall to her sides. As she shook her head she felt tears begin to rise.

 

'No,' she whispered. 'No, I’m not. Can you help me, please? I’ve got to get this off—it’s choking me.'

 

'It sure looks it,' Trish observed tartly. 'What’d you put that on for?'

 

Both Sheila’s friends dropped their burdens. She found promptly herself in the middle of a tug-of-war as both Trish and Nancy first took turns trying to pull her T-shirt over her head, then acted together. After a few moments it became obvious that there was simply too much of Sheila inside the shirt for it to come off the customary way. From her smirking expression it was also obvious that the entire situation had inspired Trish’s errant sense of humor.

 

'Well, I guess you’re stuck wearing this shirt until it falls apart, or you bust out of it,' she said, her eyes sparkling over her grin. She stared at the expanse of Sheila’s bosom pressed against her chest by the fabric, and her eyes widened. 'I can’t imagine how you got it on.'

 

'It—it wasn’t this tight this morning,' Sheila replied. 'Look, there’s scissors in my dresser. Can you get them? I can’t breathe in this thing.'

 

Nancy promptly retrieved the scissors and applied them to the back of Sheila’s T-shirt. A few second’s cutting, and the wrap of cloth around Sheila’s ribs tore free. Sheila inhaled deeply. The scissors went further, cutting up her back. Nancy made a small noise in her throat as she kept cutting, and Sheila suddenly felt her bra go loose.

 

'Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Sheila, I just cut your bra,' Nancy said. Sheila shook her head.

 

'It’s okay. Please keep on going, I want to get this off.'

 

'Okay, I’m almost there. Okay, you’re done.'

 

As her shirt collar snapped free Sheila uttered a loud sigh of relief. She could still feel the pressure of the cloth around her ribs and she rubbed at her bare skin. It felt wonderful to expand her ribs to the limit and she did so again and again.

 

'Thanks,' she sighed happily. 'That was really starting to hurt—'

 

Sheila stopped. Nancy had circled around her to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Trish. They were both staring at her so pointedly she felt warmth creep under her skin again. Nancy slowly looked her up and down. As she met her friend’s eyes Sheila saw her mouth fall open.

 

'God-damn, Sheila,' Trish whispered. 'You are huge. Didn’t I tell you, Nancy? She really is bigger than before.'

 

'Ah—ah, yes,' Nancy replied. 'Sheila, what happened to you? How did you get so tall?'

 

Sheila found herself squirming under the frank gaze of her friends. With the distraction of her over-tight shirt gone she abruptly recognized just how much she had changed in comparison to her friends. They saw the same.

 

'I—I don’t know,' she began. 'I grew two inches in the last week—'

 

'Two inches?'

 

'Nuh-uh, Sheila,' Trish interrupted, shaking her head. 'You’re taller than that.'

 

'No, I’m not. I was measured this morning, I’m five-foot ten—'

 

'Remember when the new mall opened three months ago?' Trish said. 'We all went shopping together. I remember you telling me you were five foot eight. Remember, Nancy? We were all joking about how tall Sheila was compared to us. You’re not five-eight any more, or five-ten.'

 

'Yes, I am,' Sheila replied. She couldn’t help the uncertainty that crept into her voice. Trish shook her head again.

 

'No way, girl,' Trish replied. She stepped closer to Sheila, who felt her face redden still more—Trish’s chin was just above the level of her bust. Compounding her embarrassment was the fact that Trish’s eyes seemed fixed on her boobs.

 

'Sorry, Sheila,' she continued. 'You are taller than my boyfriend, and he’s six-one. Nope, you are definitely big.'

 

'I’m not big,' Sheila snapped in reply.

 

'Oh, yeah?' Trish replied. She seized Sheila’s arm and began to tug at her. 'Come on over here.'

 

'Hey, wait,' Sheila said. Trish’s energetic yank pulled her arm away from her side, loosing the tattered remains of her T-shirt, which flapped revealingly. 'Trish, stop. Let go of my arm—'

 

'Nope,' Trish replied, snaking both hands around Sheila’s elbow. 'This way. Mirror, ho!'

 

'Now, wait—'

 

As Trish dragged her in front of her dressing mirror Sheila caught sight of her reflection. Her protest died in her throat. She only half-noticed Trish’s dramatic gesture and exclamation as she found her own eyes traveling up and down her frame. God, her image dwarfed Trish’s, and then Nancy’s. She saw herself bring her two hands up to cover her open mouth and her face was blank with open shock. Sheila began to shake her head. She couldn’t have grown bigger in just the space of a few minutes. It was impossible. Nobody ever grew so fast. She couldn’t have!

 

'Sheila?' Nancy’s voice was soft and wondering. 'Sheila, what’s going on?'

 

'I don’t know.' Sheila replied. She couldn’t help looking down at her bare feet, then at Trish and Nancy’s. Trish was wearing her usual Sketcher platforms and Nancy was in heels. 'I can’t believe this. I’m so tall.'

 

'You sure are,' Trish offered. She stabbed one finger towards Sheila’s chest, then down at her waist. 'You got big, too. Look at the size of you!'

 

'Trish, stop,' Nacy said suddenly. She touched Sheila’s arm. 'Sheel, are you okay?'

 

'No, I’m not,' Sheila replied. A lump swelled up in her throat and she choked. Everything around her blurred as tears began to fill her eyes. 'I don’t know what happening to me.'

 

Nancy slipped her hand around Sheila’s elbow. Her grip was gentler than Trish’s but just as insistent. Sheila began to cry freely as she was led to her couch, Trish following in their wake.

 

'Wait, Nan, that’s not a good idea—'

 

Sheila was halfway to a seat cushion when her pants dug into her skin once more. She exclaimed in pain and levered herself upright again.

 

'Oh, shit. Sheila, I’m sorry,' Nancy said. 'Look, let’s get those off, too.'

 

Trish helpfully tugged at Sheila’s belt, pulling her off balance in her enthusiasm. It took several healthy tugs to pull it free, and the leather jerked out of Trish’s hand as Sheila’s middle quickly filled the freed space in her denims. Trish uttered an inarticulate noise of awe at the sight, drawing a hushing sound from Nancy. Between them they carefully peeled Sheila’s pants down her hips, then she was pushed to a seat. Trish seized up one pantleg, Nancy the other. They looked at one another for a moment, then both began to heave, Trish using one hand to push at Sheila’s foot while she pulled at the pant cuff with the other. After a few moments of effort Sheila’s denims suddenly came loose from her legs with a rush, nearly toppling her rescuers.

 

Sheila felt a peculiar, acute sense of embarrassment as her friends recovered. It was now obvious that not only had she grown bigger, but her body’s contours had changed as well—her legs were clearly longer than before, with an unsubtle hint of muscle just under the surface of her skin. Her thong panty was gripping at her with more force than she was accustomed to and she could still feel the tautness of her T-shirt across her shoulders. Nancy was staring at the pantleg she held as if she had never seen anything like it before. Sheila’s discomfiture grew worse when her friend slowly lifted the bundle she held in her hands and pulled it taut between her fingers—the fabric of her denims was clearly stretched out of its accustomed shape. Trish was staring boggle-eyed at her, cursing vaguely under her breath, clearly unaware of what she was saying. Sheila’s last reserve broke and she began to sob uncontrollably. The sound was loud in the room. It broke the spell both her friends were under.

 

'Sheila? Sheila, don’t cry now,' Nancy said. She seated herself beside her friend on the couch and touched Sheila’s shoulder.

 

'I don’t know what happening to me,' Sheila choked. 'I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m scared, I’m so scared.'

 

'Scared?' Trish echoed. Her eyes narrowed as a curious, almost envious expression mixed with sympathy on her face. 'What’s there to be scared of? You look great.' She sidled up next to Sheila and ran a hand over her thigh, then stroked her arm. 'Wow, Sheila. You can feel the muscles in your arm. And your legs! Goddamn, you’re modeling material and then some. I wish I could get a disease like yours.'

 

'Di—disease?' The dread Sheila was desperately trying to contain inside herself burst out at a full gallop. She looked up at Trish, then at Nancy. 'Disease?'

 

'Trish, I swear,' Nancy growled. 'How can you avoid walking into things with your head up your ass all the time? She’s really scared.'

 

Trish shrugged. 'Why? Man, I’d do anything to grow six more inches, or a foot.' She pointed at Sheila’s chest. 'And real boobies! If I had those Davy’s eyes wouldn’t be wandering when we go out, that for sure—'

 

'Sheila?'

 

Something in Nancy’s voice stopped Trish’s enthusiasm. Sheila was hugging herself as her sobs wracked her. She tried to say something but choked instead. She rubbed at the exposed muscles around her midriff as they spasmed with each sob. Sheila’s misery was interrupted by a familiar tingling sensation from deep inside her. She looked down at herself and blinked the tears out of her eyes.

 

'Oh, no,' she cried. 'It’s happening again.'

 

Nancy and Trish stared as Sheila continued to cry, her belly twitching in time to her sobs.

 

'What’s happening, Sheila?' Nancy asked. Her eyes were dark with sympathy as she touched away a tear. 'Calm down, now. That’s right. Now, what’s happening? What’s going on?'

 

'Sheila, I’m sorry. You’re really scared,' Trish offered. Her expression became pensive. 'You know me, I laugh at funerals. I got a big mouth—only way I can get my foot all the way inside it. Come on, girl, chill.'

 

Sheila swallowed away the dryness in her mouth. She rubbed one hand across her now-quiescent belly. She searched herself internally but the tingling that had begun a few seconds before was now gone. Nancy had slipped to the sofa cushion beside her and Trish was hovering next to her shoulder, her head bobbing ludicrously. She tried to smile. As both her friends smiled back she felt the tension around her mouth and neck ease, and her own small smile won out.

 

'I don’t know what’s happening to me,' she began. Her voice was uncertain but both Trish and Nancy nodded for her to continue. 'It started in class. I felt this weird tingling, deep inside me. It started down here—' she gestured to her belly—'then it spread all over. It almost feels like feathers under my skin. Then, all my clothes began to get tight—and then they got tighter, and tighter. I grew bigger, just like that. I don’t know why. It just doesn’t make any sense—no one can grow bigger in just a few minutes, but I did somehow.'

 

A loud growl erupted from Sheila’s middle. Again she felt hunger pangs. Trish jerked upright, startled by the sheer noise from Sheila’s belly. At the open surprise on both her friends’ faces her skin blushed purple. Trish and Nancy looked at one another, then at her. Trish pursed her lips tightly, as if she were trying to hold her breath. She failed. Her bark of laughter echoed in Sheila’s apartment.

 

'What a sound!' she exclaimed, wiping at her eyes. 'Sheel, that was something. What the heck did you eat? Maybe I should get a gas mask.'

 

'It’s not that,' Sheila replied, annoyed. 'I’m hungry.'

 

'Oh? Here, take my Mickey D’s. Go on. I could do with going on a diet as it is—Davy complained that I’m getting a belly last night. Look, Nancy will share with me, won’t you, Nan?'

 

At Trish’s outburst Nancy had looked down at the floor. She shook her head, her eyes twinkling.

 

'The woman has no shame,' she intoned. 'And no class. Don’t even think I’m going to share my fries with you, Patricia. You do look hungry, Sheila—grab it while it’s offered.'

 

The desperate worry that had filled Sheila’s being began to ease at her friend’s banter. As she opened the bag a familiar—and very enticing—smell wafted out. Her stomach cramped loudly in its eagerness to be filled, prompting another giggle from Trish. Nancy also brought out her own lunch and they began to eat. Sheila ate (more sedately this time) as she tried to relate what had happened to her over the last week.

 

'They said that I was fine at the clinic,' she concluded. She looked down at her front, which was still half-covered by the mutilated remains of her T-shirt. 'Doctor Williams thought that I’m just having a late growth spurt—I guess she assumed that I had grown bigger over the last year. But, it didn’t happen that way. Everything that happened to me has happened over the last week or so.'

 

'Why didn’t you tell her that you grew really quickly?' Nancy asked.

 

'I—I don’t know,' Sheila replied. 'I guess it just sounds so crazy I couldn’t tell her. I didn’t want her to think I’m some kind of freak or something.'

 

'This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard of,' Trish said. Her fingers darted into Nancy’s french fries, retrieving a serving and drawing a loud exclamation of dismay. 'Sheila, I think you are the luckiest person. You’re living my favorite fantasy.'

 

'What?' Nancy said. She pulled her fries out of Trish’s reach. Trish promptly grabbed her Big Mac and stole a bite instead. 'Hey, bitch, stop that.'

 

Trish giggled. 'I mean it. I think it’s the coolest, sexiest thing that could happen.' She paused. Both Sheila and Nancy goggled as a shiver ran visibly through her frame. 'Just the idea of my body growing, getting bigger and stronger. Mmmm, what a thought.'

 

 

 

'No way,' Nancy breathed, her face blank with astonishment. Trish used her bemusement to steal more fries.

 

 

 

'Way,' she retorted. Her eyes stole across Sheila’s bosom. 'Wish I could steal an inch or two from you, Sheila. Every hunk on campus is gonna hit on you now. What am I saying, every guy in LA is going to want you. I’m jealous already.'

 

 

 

'You’re welcome to it,' Sheila replied, worry returning in her voice. She looked down at herself again. 'But I don’t know how it happens—what causes it—what’s going on at all.'

 

 

 

'Well, if you gave Carmody the fidgets, it’s worthwhile,' Nancy said, her voice light. 'He’s a poster child for Vivarin.' A thought seemed to strike her, and she looked at her watch.

 

 

 

'Nuts,' she groaned. 'Sorry, Sheila, but my next class is in fifteen. Are you going to be okay?'

 

 

 

'I guess so—' Sheila began.

 

 

 

'Not to worry, the cavalry’s here,' Trish interrupted. She made an exaggerated saluting motion. 'I can keep Sheila company.'

 

 

 

'But, I’ve got class, too,' Sheila said. Trish cocked an eye at her.

 

 

 

'Okay, but don’t you want to attend wearing something other than that—' she pointed at the flap covering Sheila’s upper torso—'and that?' Her finger pointed lower. Sheila colored again.

 

 

 

'Yeah,' she replied in a small voice.

 

 

 

'Good.' Nancy seemed relieved. 'Sheila, I still think you ought to go back and tell Dr. Williams what happened. There’s got to be some kind of explanation for you growing so much, so fast.'

 

 

 

 

Sheila’s worry returned in full force as she tried to find something to wear. She stood before her closet, bundled in her one-size-fits-all bathrobe, as Trish hurled herself enthusiastically into the task of helping pick out suitable clothing, offering unasked-for fashion advice at the top of her lungs as she went digging into Sheila’s closet and dresser. Sheila quickly tried to put on every pair of slacks and denims she owned, followed by every skirt. Each had to be discarded—she was simply too big in her hips, or butt, or thighs for any of them to fit her at all now. Unsurprisingly her tops shared the same fault, for the same reason. Her bosom was especially troublesome, to her embarrassment (and Trish’s open-admiration and surprise)—everything squeezed her boobs to the point of real discomfort and her nipples poked out all-too-obviously no matter how thick the fabric of each top or shirt was. Sheila felt tears begin to rise again as she looked at the bundles of clothing tossed in every direction across her bedroom.

 

 

 

'I can’t believe this,' she said. 'I’m too big for anything I own now?'

 

 

 

'I dunno, let’s try this,' Trish said quickly. She was rummaging in the bottom drawer of the dresser and straightened with a utilitarian gray bundle in her hands.

 

 

 

'My fleece? But, it’s too warm outside—'

 

 

 

'Well, okay then,' Trish replied, her eyes bright. 'This is a pretty progressive campus. You can go to your afternoon class in your jammies.'

 

 

 

'All right, all right,' Sheila snapped. She took the sweatsuit out of Trish’s hands. The pants went on first, slipping easily over her ankles and up to near her knees. Sheila paused, gulping, then pulled at her waistband, straightening as she did so. She almost sighed in relief as the legs of her pants stretched to accommodate her thighs.

 

 

 

'Whew,' she muttered as she slipped the pants up over her hips and quickly tied the drawstring tight. The fabric’s clutch felt reassuringly familiar—a little tighter than she remembered, perhaps, but still comfortable. Just feeling something so—ordinary—as being able to fit something she owned immediately lightened the burden on Sheila’s heart. Trish echoed her smile and tossed the top at her.

 

 

 

'Okay, let’s see the whole ensemble,' Trish said. Sheila felt a tremor of disquiet inside her at the very obvious amusement in her friend’s body language. She turned her back to Trish and tugged on the shirt, pulling it down over her breasts and twitching the shoulders into place. She tried to ignore the warning of the obvious gap she could feel across her belly where the hem of her top ended—but it was impossible not to see the mirth that was threatening to erupt from Trish’s throat once more.

 

 

 

Without saying a word Trish took Sheila’s hand and drew her to her dressing mirror. Sheila could not help the lump that rose into her throat as she stepped in front of the glass and looked down at her reflection—

 

 

 

'Oh, no,' she groaned. She looked—big. No, not big, but huge. It was clear now that her legs were giving her most of her new height. The hems of her sweatpants ended just below her calf muscles and pinched into the flesh of her legs. Above her knees no wrinkles existed anywhere in the cloth. The further upwards her eyes traveled, the more obvious was the musculature in her legs. As if to balance out the new length of her limbs her hips had spread, flaring out into a near-perfect heart shape that diminished markedly to a narrow, slim waist. Sheila almost gasped at the sight of her flat stomach peeking out through the gap between shirt and pants. Her shirt was another surprise, stretched across her front to form wrinkles under both her arms. Her sleeves were worse, if it were possible—both clung tightly to her arms and ended above her wrists. She looked like a full-grown woman trying on the clothing of a teenage girl. Trish looked as though she was about to burst but still held her tongue. When she noticed Sheila’s grave expression her grin did not diminish but there was sympathy in her eyes.

 

 

 

'I can’t go to class wearing this,' Sheila said, half to herself.

 

 

 

'I dunno, it definitely makes a statement,' Trish replied. She looked at her watch. 'Your class started at one? Well, it’s a half-hour over, anyway. You’ve got your credit card, right?'

 

 

 

Trish seized Sheila’s arm and spun her in a near-circle, clucking under her breath.

 

 

 

'Huh?'

 

 

 

'I said, you’ve got your credit card, right?'

 

 

 

'Uh, yes, I do.'

 

 

 

'Well, there’s just one thing to do,' she announced. 'I’ve got my car. Let’s shop!'

 

 

 

 

It became clear that Trish was a frequent visitor to the local strip malls. She dragged Sheila by the hand across the parking lot and onto the sidewalk leading to a broad storefront that bore the caption Fantastic Champion Green, chattering as she went. Sheila found herself sweating under the hot sun, her purse swinging in the air as she padded along in a pair of borrowed sandals, trying to ignore how the bottoms of her heels touched the macadam of the parking lot with every step. Trish wore a peculiarly satisfied grin as she pointed to the mannequins occupying the store windows.

 

 

 

'Fantastic is where it’s at—and where it’s at is where we want to be,' she exclaimed.

 

 

 

'I don’t know, Trish,' Sheila said uncertainly. 'It looks expensive. I don’t think I can afford it.'

 

 

 

'Sure you can. Do I look like I’m made of money? It’s a secondhand store, but they’ve got the coolest things. I buy all my stuff here. You’ll love it!'

 

 

 

'You buy all your stuff here?' Sheila echoed, uncertainty pushed out of her voice by dismay. Her eyes rapidly roved up and down Trish’s skintight knit top unbuttoned to her cleavage and her dalmation-colored spandex tights. 'Listen, I don’t know if I want to dress like you—no offense meant,' she quickly added as Trish became cross.

 

 

 

'What, are you saying there’s something wrong with the way I dress?' she demanded. Sheila shook her head. She was grateful for the company and Trish was being very nice to her right now, but the idea of dressing like—

 

 

 

'Well, maybe I do dress like a streetwalker,' Trish said suddenly, echoing Sheila’s thought. 'I like dressing this way. Don’t worry, they’ve got things for fuddy-duddy’s like you.'

 

 

 

Trish resumed her course, towing Sheila behind her. It was agreeably cool inside the store and Sheila was relieved to note that new apparel was on sale as well as used. Trish dashed from one clothing rack to another, her hands nimbly sorting through a bewildering variety of attire.

 

 

 

'Man, this is really cut,' she murmured. 'They just got a new consignment. Well, let’s get some professional help here and find out what size you wear now.'

 

 

 

The professional help turned out to be a middle-sized woman in crewcut blond hair and camo fatigues who bore an aura of body odor. She first set Sheila up against a measure glued to the wall and read off her height. It turned out that Trish was wrong about her height—but by only an inch or so. Sheila was now six feet and one half-inches tall. The saleswoman looked at her bosom being compressed under her sweatshirt, her expression curious.

 

 

 

'Better start with some foundation garments,' she said. 'What’s your size?'

 

 

 

'Um—' Sheila found herself in a quandary. She had grown out of a—what size was that bra? She wondered. A 36 C?—during Carmody’s class, and she had no idea how much bigger she was now. She thought quickly.

 

 

 

'Uh, I’m a 37 D,' she said. Trish looked ready to erupt in laughter like an amused Vesuvius at the statement. The saleswoman seemed lost in thought for a moment, then quickly offered Sheila a daringly-cut lace bra whose construction made it nearly see-though. A tape measure appeared.

 

 

 

'Waist is 24, hips 38,' the saleswoman intoned. Sheila held her breath as the woman’s upraised arm wafted a stronger hint of rancid sweat towards her. The saleswoman thrust the tape up into Sheila’s crotch and she almost jumped. '34—no, 35 inch inseam. Yes, we can help you.'

 

 

 

Minutes later found Sheila inside a dressing room, a heap of clothing on the seat beside her. Trish had volunteered to help pick out things. Sheila felt an instant ire at the gleam in her eye but she was loath to criticize her friend for trying to help. Sheila pulled off her sweats and snapped the bra around her chest. She almost shouted in relief at the comfort she felt—there actually was a little room for her breasts in the cups. She slipped her arms into the dark blue wraparound top and tied it firmly around her waist. The skirt Trish had pushed on her was made of rich, brown leather. It was not at all what Sheila had imagined she would ever wear but Trish had insisted. She pulled on new pantyhose and slipped the skirt up her legs. The softness of the material felt surprisingly exotic and Sheila could not help the wriggle in her hips as she zipped the skirt closed and belted it. A pair of clogs suddenly appeared under the curtain, pushed inside by Trish’s hand.

 

 

 

'Hey, Sheel, try these,' Trish called. Sheila took one look at the two-inch heels on the clogs and groaned, but slipped them on nonetheless. With the shoe straps tightened and a tug on her top to pull it down over her skirt’s waistband Sheila felt ready to emerge. She pulled aside the curtain and stepped out on the floor to an audience of two. Sheila’s mouth dropped open as she focused on her friend. With two-inch heels accenting her legs her new height seemed even greater than before. Trish repeated her expression back at her, her eyes wide. Without saying a word she took Sheila’s hand and directed her towards the nearest mirror.

 

 

 

When Sheila saw herself she understood Trish’s astonishment. In her old clothes she had looked oversized. Now, she looked—Sheila struggled to form the words in her mind. She looked—tall, and lithe, and incredibly sexy. The clogs were perfect for her feet and legs, accentuating the firm flowing muscle in her calves. The skirt was shorter than she first thought, only reaching down to mid-thigh. It revealed an expanse of leg like nothing she ever could have imagined being attached to herself. The leather snuggled to her hips, showing their curve from thigh up and in to her waist. The curve of her ribs was more modest, arcing to round shoulders and a long, slim neck. And her boobs—God, they were huge, starting high on her chest, covering easily have her ribs and sticking out like two tightly bound orbs on her front. Almost as an afterthought she looked up into her own face. Even it had changed, too, subtly and better, her chin a little longer, her cheekbones broader. And her hair—she had never noticed how long it was now, draping down to below her shoulders. It looker thicker than she remembered, and there seemed to be golden glints visible within its brown mass.

 

 

 

'Wow,' Sheila whispered. Trish’s face appeared around her arm with a smile.

 

 

 

'What did I tell you? Was I not speaking Truth? You gonna believe me now? Er, this place is great, isn’t it?'

 

 

 

Sheila saw that the saleswoman was standing as before, unmoving, her face folded into an expression of professional interest. She shook her head.

 

 

 

'Yes, it is,' she replied quickly. Trish smiled. Sheila turned to the saleswoman. 'It is nice. Do you have any other outfits in my size?'

 

 

 

 

'Whew, I’m exhausted,' Trish complained in faux petulance. She plopped into the driver’s seat of her car and watched as Sheila stuffed shopping bags into the back seat. 'I hope your done shopping. I don’t think I can take anymore.'

 

 

 

'Yes, I’m done,' she replied as she took the passenger seat. 'Thanks, Trish, for helping me out. I really appreciate it.'

 

 

 

'No problemo, girlfriend. Now, what do you want to do?'

 

 

 

Sheila looked at her watch. Most of the afternoon had passed, and so had her class. She sighed.

 

 

 

'Let’s go back to the campus. I’ve got to put my new stuff away. Trish, if there’s anything I can do for you—'

 

 

 

'Hey, like I said, no problemo,' Trish insisted, waving off Sheila’s open concern. 'Although I really wouldn’t mind knowing how you grew.'

 

 

 

Sheila shook her head at her friend’s wistful tone. 'If I knew, I’d give it to you.'

 

 

 

 

With Trish leading the way Sheila struggled to carry her purchases across the campus towards her apartment. What seemed to be a light burden grew steadily heavier with each step she took. Trish’s acerbic comments were no help, either, nor was her total contribution to the effort—she had taken up a total of two boxes of shoes and nothing else.

 

 

 

'I told you, we should have carried this in more than one trip,' she said brightly. Sheila growled in her throat.

 

 

 

'I can make it—although it’d be easier if you could carry one more bag.'

 

 

 

'I got two already.'

 

 

 

'All right, all right,' Sheila replied, defeated. She paused for a second to shift her hold on the bags in her arms.

 

 

 

'Can I help you?' a voice said. Sheila turned to see a tall, slim underclassman with blond hair in a ponytail hold out his hands to her, a smile on his face.

 

 

 

'Oh, thank you,' she said. 'Here, can you take this?'

 

 

 

'Sure, be glad to. My name’s Pete, Pete Butler.'

 

 

 

'Thanks, Pete. Thanks a lot.'

 

 

 

Pete accepted two garment bags, cradling them carefully in his arms. Sheila rearranged her remaining burdens and began to resume her trek when another voice interrupted her.

 

 

 

'Hi, Sheila.' This time the voice belonged to a familiar face—a fellow graduate student with a strong midwestern accent. 'You probably don’t remember, but I’m Bob Campbell. We have Applied Psych this morning, with Carmody. You look like you could use a hand.'

 

 

 

'Why, ah, thanks, Bob, I sure could,' Sheila replied. Bob quickly relieved her of two more parcels, leaving only two shopping bags for her to hold. As she lifted her own burden she saw that Trish had halted a few strides away and was looking at her pointedly, an unreadable expression on her face. The four of them continued their parade towards the campus apartments.

 

 

 

Sheila smiled at the small talk that Pete and Bob began with her as she walked. She was puzzled. Although she never lacked for companionship on campus she had never established any permanent ties with any of her male compatriots, preferring to concentrate on her studies. It was curiously pleasant to find herself the center of attention from two guys simultaneously, and so spontaneously, too. Both Pete and Bob were obviously looking her up and down as she walked, and the sensation of feeling two admiring sets of eyes—especially eyes belonging to two good-looking men—made Sheila’s heart flutter delightfully. She did not miss the surprise and obvious envy on Trish’s face when she looked back. The trip to the apartment complex was a ball of fun and Sheila found herself teasing both men as they helped her along—a teasing both enjoyed. A few moments’ time found her outside her apartment with her entourage. She thanked both Pete and Bob effusively as she opened her door and began to jackass bags inside. Trish had stood by silently with what only could be described as a look of glum jealousy on her face.

 

 

 

'You didn’t waste any time,' she snorted as the noise of Sheila’s two helpers diminished. She shrugged and her sour look began to diminish. 'I didn’t think you had it in you.'

 

 

 

'I didn’t ask them to help,' Sheila objected. Trish shook her head.

 

 

 

'Yes, you did. The damndest thing is, I helped. Remind me to dress you up like an old maid next time we go shopping.'

 

 

 

Sheila laughed. It felt good to laugh, to feel good, and happy, and even normal. Sheila stopped at the thought. She did feel normal, and it felt good. Her emotion must have been obvious to Trish, as she put her hands on her hips and sighed.

 

 

 

'Don’t look that happy about it, girlfriend,' she snapped. 'Everyone you know is going to notice you’ve—'

 

 

 

The sudden opening of Sheila’s front door interrupted Trish’s tirade. Sheila turned to see Nancy standing at the threshold, dressed in the clothes she had been wearing at lunchtime. As she focused on Nancy her sense of well-being vanished away. Nancy was breathing hard, and to judge from the tautness of her blouse across her chest it wasn’t due to exertion.

 

 

 

'Oh, no,' Sheila heard someone say. She realized it was she who had spoken. Trish’s soft curse went unheard altogether. Nancy’s normally placid, sensible expression was screwed up in anxiety. She stepped into Sheila’s apartment, leaving the door open behind her.

 

 

 

'Sheila,' she said softly, 'I think it’s happening to me now.'

 

'Contagious? I’m—It’s contagious?'

 

 

 

Sheila found herself staring at her friend Nancy as thought she was some sort of apparition. Nancy shivered visibly as she stood in the threshold of her apartment, her face screwed up in distress. A low-voiced chain of obscenities suddenly made themselves heard. They were coming from Trish, who had frozen in her half-turn towards the front door, eyes wide, mouth open. Nancy looked from Trish to Sheila and back again. She shook herself in an obvious effort to wrestle her emotions under control. She nodded.

 

 

 

'I’ve never felt anything like it,' she continued. She stepped inside Sheila’s apartment, her gait curiously hesitant. Sheila felt herself flush in recollection—did she look like that when she had suffered her growth spurt in Carmody’s class and had to walk to her home in too-tight shoes? She reached out in an automatic gesture of reassurance, then stopped. Visions of the movie Outbreak suddenly popped into her head. Was she some kind of infectious carrier, gifting everyone she met with a weird disease that caused them to grow? The thought was so irrational and compelling that she felt a new species of fright grip her in her belly. She jerked her hand away. Nancy saw her motion. She stopped in mid-stride, her eyes locking on Sheila’s.

 

 

 

'It’s not your fault, Sheel,' she said softly. A flurry of noise from the hallway reminded them both that her door was still open. Trish noticed the handful of curious looks being broadcast through the door by passersby. She abruptly came to life, jumping towards the portal and shoving it closed with both hands. The door slammed shut deafeningly with a noise that seemed to echo through the apartment. Sheila jumped half-out of her shoes at the sound. So did Nancy. Both turned to see Trish cringing beside the door.

 

 

 

'Sorry,' she offered in a small voice. She moved more smoothly to stand beside her friends. Sheila saw that same odd, intense expression she had seen before on her face as she looked from Nancy to herself and back again. Adding to Sheila’s sense of déjà-vu she took two more steps to bring herself within inches of her friends.

 

 

 

'I don’t believe it,' Trish whispered softly, her eyes shining. 'God, Nan, you’re taller than me now. I don’t believe it!'

 

 

 

'Well, if it makes you feel any better, neither do I,' Nancy replied. She grimaced. 'Damn, my feet hurt. I’ve got to get these shoes off.'

 

 

 

Nancy hobbled to Sheila’s sofa. It took a visible effort for her to reach her shoes and tug them off her feet. Her sigh was honest and loud.

 

 

 

'Oh, that’s better,' Nancy said. She grunted as she struggled one foot within range of her hand and rubbed her toes. 'I guess I can understand how you felt, Sheila. It was—creepy.'

 

 

 

'I just can’t believe it,' Trish interjected. Her tones were still hushed, her expression filled with awe and surprise. 'I—Sheila, are you okay?'

 

 

 

Sheila only half-heard Trish’s question. An overwhelming mélange of emotions were rushing over her, robbing her of her voice. Trish looked more surprised at the contortions sweeping Sheila’s face than she was at Nancy’s sudden expansion.

 

 

 

'Sheila?' Nancy’s voice struck Sheila like a physical slap. She put her hand to her mouth and began to shake her head back and forth.

 

 

 

'Nancy, I’m—I’m so sorry,' she said. 'It’s my fault. It’s my fault. I should have told Dr. Williams what happened to me. I should have gone to the hospital. I should have done something about this. I’m sorry.'

 

 

 

'Sheila, it’s not your fault,' Nancy replied. 'It’s not. Look, you’re scared of what’s happened to you.' She looked down at herself. Sheila followed her gaze. Nancy’s silk polka-dot button-front blouse had fit her perfectly before lunch. Now, it clung to her chest and shoulders like a second skin. She sucked in her breath in surprise. Doing so pressed her frontal assets more strongly into the stretchy fabric, pulling open gaps between its buttons. 'I don’t believe it, myself—God, I think I grew even more. I’m—I’m not hurt by what’s happened to me. I was just scared, like you were.' She attempted a small grin. 'I still am. You—no, none of us—had any idea what could happen. It’s not your fault.'

 

 

 

A loud, very organic squeal erupted from Nancy’s middle. Her hands darted to her stomach.

 

 

 

'Oh, man,' she groaned. 'Sheila, if you were anything as hungry as I feel right now, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you tried to scarf down an entire McDonald’s. You got something to eat?'

 

 

 

'Uh, I—yes, I do.' Sheila shook herself free of the paralysis that had gripped her. She stepped quickly into her kitchenette. She paused for a few seconds as she tried to make herself remember what was in her larder. There was half a pizza in the fridge, and an unopened bag of party mix on the top of the counter. Along with a brand new two-liter of no-name cola, it was the best Sheila could offer, and she did so.

 

 

 

'Oh, thank you,' Nancy said. She greedily tore two cold slices from the pizza and ate them in one smooth, continuous motion, pausing only to clear her mouth with warm soda. It only took her five minutes to empty the pizza box. Sheila had to stifle a gasp at the visible bulge that grew steadily in Nancy’s middle as she ate.

 

 

 

'Whew,' Nancy said softly. She inhaled deeply. 'I don’t think I could ever feel so hungry again. Thanks, Sheila.'

 

 

 

'Okay, okay,' Trish said, her typical tartness evident in her voice. 'Inquiring minds want to know here. What happened? When did you grow?'

 

 

 

Nancy popped open the bag of party mix and quickly chewed down a handful. She waved off Trish’s increasingly obvious impatience long enough for another long drink of cola.

 

 

 

'I’d just left African Studies,' she began. 'It was so nice outside I’d decided to take a walk off-campus for a bit. I was outside the West gate, just strolling along. Then, it happened.'

 

 

 

Nancy paused for a moment. She seemed to shiver again and the rich butter-chocolate color of her skin seemed to pale for a moment.

 

 

 

'Well, come on,' Trish snapped. 'What happened?'

 

 

 

'All of a sudden all I hear is this car horn, real loud. It sounded like it was right behind me. Then I heard tires screeching. I turn around, and I see this car coming right at me, right up on the sidewalk.'

 

 

 

Nancy stopped again. Her hands were shaking and tears suddenly erupted out of her eyes. She looked frightened, and apprehensive, and badly in need of comfort. Seeing such an atypical expression on her normally sensible friends’ face broke Sheila’s own emotional gridlock. She slipped close beside Nancy on the sofa. Trish too softened, dabbing away Nancy’s tears with one careful finger.

 

 

 

'It was awful,' Nancy continued. 'I swear the fucking car was aiming right for me. The noise was incredible—it sounded like the end of the world. For just a second I was frozen there, I couldn’t move at all. Then, I guess I jumped out of its way.'

 

 

 

'You’re not hurt, are you?' Trish asked. Her concern was genuine. Nancy shook her head.

 

 

 

'No. The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the sidewalk there and this car was just a few feet away from me. It crashed into a bench—otherwise, I’d probably be in the hospital right now. There were people there who helped me up, and somebody said something about calling the police.' She looked down at her hands. 'I lost all my textbooks and notes somewhere there, too, they were probably under the car. All I can really remember is how hard my heart was beating—it felt like it was going to explode inside me. Then, it began to happen.'

 

 

 

Nancy turned to look directly at Sheila. 'It was just like you described, Sheel. I felt this weird tingling here—' Her hands rubbed at her belly below her navel. 'It wasn’t at all like the shock of the accident. Then I began to grow, just like that. It was the most incredible feeling I’ve ever experienced. The tingling got stronger and stronger. It seemed to just flow through me. Then suddenly all my clothes started to feel like they had shrunk. Especially my shoes—next time I’m wearing sandals like you. When I realized what was happening to me I panicked. Somebody was saying something about my staying there for the police, but I couldn’t—I remember thinking that if I really grew like you did it would be so humiliating so bust out of my clothes in front of all those people.'

 

 

 

Nancy paused again. She looked down at herself. Sheila’s eyes followed. This time it was her turn to gasp in surprise. The belly bulge of the food Nancy had eaten was gone, and it seemed to have transferred itself up into her chest—there were permanent gaps now between the buttons of her blouse and the distinct outline of her bra cups told how her bosom was pushing all too firmly into her garment.

 

 

 

'Talk about busting out,' Nancy breathed. She looked from her chest to Trish, and then Sheila. She blinked tears out of her eyes and shook her head. 'I wonder what Grandma will say when she sees me next time—all the women in my family are built like sticks.'

 

 

 

Both Sheila and Trish blinked. The usual twinkle made its reappearance in Trish’s eye.

 

 

 

'Well, I feel better now,' she said in her usual breezy fashion. Nancy frowned.

 

 

 

'I’m happy for you,' she snapped. 'Just hearing that makes me feel so much better. Trish, do you understand what’s happened here? First Sheila, now me. I don’t know about you but I stopped growing when I was fourteen. It’s not normal to suddenly begin growing again.'

 

 

 

'Maybe it’s not normal, but it’s pretty wonderful,' Trish shot back. She darted to Sheila’s side and grabbed her arm. 'Here, Sheila, stand up. Now, look at her, Nancy. Isn’t she incredible looking now? Just look at how long Sheila’s legs are. She’s gorgeous! Sheila, turn around.'

 

 

 

Trish yanked Sheila into a slow circle, drawing a protest. Sheila felt peculiarly embarrassed by Trish’s insistence as she did her clumsy pirouette, her skin warming in a blush. Nancy seemed to take umbrage at Trish’s apparent dismissal of her concerns, then stopped, as if reconsidering. After a moment she nodded.

 

 

 

'I’ve got to admit, Sheila, you do look good,' Nancy said slowly, her expression melting into contemplation. 'You do have long legs.'

 

 

 

'And she’s a boy magnet, now,' Trish said. There was just a hint of strain in her voice, which drew both Sheila’s and Nancy’s attention to herself. Trish was still smiling but there was a touch of—envy? Jealousy? Sheila couldn’t be sure—in her eyes. 'When we got back from shopping for new clothes two guys arrived out of the blue and helped her with her bags.'

 

 

 

'You went shopping?'

 

 

 

'I had to,' Sheila replied. She felt her shyness grow stronger as she gestured to the bundles tossed negligently across the livingroom floor. 'I couldn’t fit anything I owned anymore. Trish helped me.'

 

 

 

Trish waved off the appreciation in Sheila’s voice. 'Anything for a friend. Here, Nancy, let’s see how you look, now.'

 

 

 

A moment later Trish looked as though she regretted her suggestion. With Nancy standing next to Sheila it became obvious that Trish was the visibly smallest of the three of them, barely coming up to Sheila’s shoulder and just above eye-level with Nancy. Sheila muttered a soft apology and slipped out of the Skecchers Trish had cajoled her into wearing. Her two-inch loss of height did little to help the disparity between herself and her friends. Trish noticed the same. She put her hands on her hips.

 

 

 

'If anybody should feel bad here, it’s me,' she said petulantly. 'Compared to you two now I look like a underdeveloped kid. I’d really like to know what’s making you two grow.'

 

Sheila’s embarrassment increased. She shrugged apologetically.

 

'I don’t know what’s causing this, Trish,' she replied. 'You know that. If I knew I would do everything I could think of to stop it.'

 

Sheila turned to Nancy. To her surprise her friend seemed bemused by the comparison between them—she was looking Sheila up and down over and over again. As their eyes met it was Nancy’s turn to blush.

 

'I’m sorry, Sheel,' she muttered. 'I can understand better now how you felt before. This really does take some getting used to. Speaking of clothes, what am I going to wear now?'

 

You’re welcome to anything I have, Nancy,' Sheila replied immediately, her awkwardness easing at the thought that she could offer some help to her suddenly-bigger friend. Trish seemed to brighten as well, and promptly made the idea her own.

 

'Cool! What a great idea, Sheel. C’mon, Nan, let’s go shopping in Sheila’s closet.'

 

The distraction of finding something to wear was successful. It had been relatively simple for them to pick and match various outfits—almost everything Sheila owned was still lying where it had been thrown before she and Trish had gone shopping. With Trish hovering around her offering unasked-for advice Nancy finally settled on one of Sheila’s knit tops and a pair of denims. She stood before Sheila’s dressing mirror, turning from one side to the other as she examined her reflection. Nancy pinched the seams of her borrowed denims between thumb and forefinger. A hint of a smile appeared on her face at the success of her maneuver.

 

'Well, Sheila, I’m glad to say I’m not your size yet,' she said. Sheila was happy to hear that her tone was normal, almost light as she looked at herself. 'I mean, your former size. Never thought I’d be walking around wearing white women’s clothes.'

 

With Nancy’s joke the last shreds of the sense of culpability that had depressed Sheila fell away. As Nancy turned to face her she opened her arms. Nancy accepted her invitation, returning her hug with more force than Sheila would normally have given her credit for.

 

'It’s all right, Sheila,' Nancy said, her eyes bright. She broke their embrace and looked down at herself again. 'I don’t mind that I grew a little. In fact, I kinda like it.'

 

'You ought to,' Trish interjected. Sheila turned to see Trish standing beside them, her forefinger stuck in her mouth. She noticed Sheila’s stare and used her finger to make a silly popping noise against her cheek. She grinned.

 

'Wish I could join you,' she said quietly.

 

'You don’t mean that, do you Trish?' Nancy asked. Trish looked at both of them for a moment. Her grin faded, then returned.

 

'Of course not, Nan. Don’t be silly. I couldn’t afford a whole new wardrobe right now anyway.'

 

Trish squinted at the yellow light coming in through the venetian blinds that covered Sheila’s bedroom window.

 

'I don’t know about you guys, but I’m hungry,' she announced. 'Shopping always makes me famished. Nan, you’d better grab what you can from Sheila. Let’s go find a restaurant and get some real food for a change. I’ll even buy.'

 

'What? Did I hear right?' Nancy asked. She made a motion of sticking her finger in her ear.

 

'I’m surprised,' Sheila said. Trish frowned.

 

'Are you two suggesting I’m a tightwad? I’m insulted.' Her grin returned. 'Oh, okay, so I’m frugal with my dollars. My promise holds good for you two, though.'

 

Sheila woke with just the hint of a hangover. She rubbed away the sleep from her eyes and untangled the bedclothes from around her, revealing her feet in the process. Sitting upright, she contemplated the fact that her feet had pushed free the sheet during the night. Another drawback of being tall, she thought. I need a bigger bed. She inhaled deeply and stretched, reveling in the feeling a well-being that seemed to flow through her. Under Trish prodding she and Nancy had gone to a gourmet pizza restaurant. With Trish’s encouragement both she and Nancy had indulged themselves, trying every topping offered and splitting half a pie to take out. They had lingered until almost nine and Sheila remembered the pleasant buzz she had gotten from drinking too many beers. After Trish paid the bill (refusing to accept any help from Nancy or herself), she had parted from them, hinting about a prearranged liaison with her boyfriend Davey, and Nancy and she had returned to the campus together. It had been a very convivial night, but today was a new day, Sheila had her American History lecture this morning, and the clock warned her that she was behind schedule.

 

A quick shower made her hangover disappear. Sheila found herself being reminded over and over of how much she had changed since yesterday. Her towels seemed peculiarly undersized when she first used them, as did her old floppy slippers. As she stepped into her bedroom she paused before her mirror. Her hands quickly undid the towel snugged around her chest and she let it fall to her feet. Sheila looked at her image for a moment. Despite herself she felt the skin of her chest warm at the vision she presented. Trish was right—while she had been pretty before she clearly was a long-legged, voluptuous beauty now. She had to stifle a giggle at her stacked appearance as she turned to view her profile. Every part of her looked soft and rounded, and big. In fact she looked really big. Sheila blinked and looked more closely at her image. Her hands came up to support her breasts, pressing, measuring. It was funny, but it looked like her boobs had become perhaps just a little bit bigger than last night, sitting higher and rounder on her chest. That was silly—she knew she hadn’t felt any of the tingling that heralded another growth spurt.

 

'Must be all that pizza I ate. I wonder what I weigh, now,' she muttered to herself. Something else caught her attention as she hefted her assets. There was real muscle in her arm and forearm now, muscle that bulged visibly when she moved. Sheila turned again and looked at her shoulders, then her back. There was more muscle there, too, shifting under her skin, flowing smoothly from her shoulder blades down her back to her round, full butt.

 

'I’m an Amazon,' she said aloud, then giggled again. She continued to inspect herself for another minute, her giggling growing more frequent. A quick look at her alarm clock told her that she was really behind schedule now. Automatically she turned and reached out to her dresser drawers, then stopped. Her new clothes were still in the bags the two guys had carried for her yesterday, sitting on the living room floor and mutely reminding her that they needed to be put away. Sheila quickly retrieved the bags and began to sort out her new belongings.

 

By the time she had finished dressing herself her stomach began to loudly suggest she get something to eat. It was far too late to go off-campus for something decent to eat, and Sheila sighed as she realized that the institutional food of the campus cafeteria would have to do. She tugged tight the velcro lacings on her new running shoes, grabbed her bookbag, and raced out the door.

 

The cafeteria was crowded. Sheila grabbed up a tray and stepped into the queue heading down the food line, grinning internally at the looks she got from every male that walked past her.

 

'Boy, there’s a lot of people in here today,' a voice said in front of her. 'Maybe someone killed the regular cooks and brought in replacements who can make edible food?'

 

'Never happen,' another voice replied. 'Maybe they killed the cooks and they’re offering their livers as the entrée. I’d pay real money for some of that.'

 

Sheila laughed softly. The line moved quickly and she made her choices of hotcakes with syrup, sausage, fruit salad and coffee. Her bookbag tried to slip maliciously from her shoulder as she carried her tray to the nearest empty seat and she again found herself staring at her enlarged biceps as she weight of her books fell on her wrist. The phenomenon occupied her attention until she had seated herself with her tray in front of her and she was about to carve her hotcakes when a new distraction arrived.

 

'Hey, girlfriend!' A blur of bouncing energy in spandex pants and a tight halter top suddenly intruded into her vision. Sheila looked up to see Trish jump to the seat opposite her, a huge smile on her face and a tray heaped with food in her hands. 'Good morning! I see you didn’t get a hangover from all that booze you swilled last night. Did you see Nan this morning? I’ve got some news for you both.'

 

Sheila couldn’t help smiling. Trish seemed possessed by more than her average gaiety this morning as she thumped her tray down. Instead of sitting down to eat Trish began to do a loud victory dance, her butt wriggling and her arms in the air. Sheila was about to ask for an explanation for her friend’s remarkable behavior when her boyfriend Davey arrived. Trish stopped her dance and turned to face him, almost jumping to press herself against him and grab him in a bear hug.

 

'Hey, lover,' she cooed softly. Sheila grinned more at the blush that darkened Davey’s olive complexion as Trish tightened her hold on him. Trish turned to Sheila, her smile undiminished.

 

'Well, what do you think?' she asked. Sheila opened her mouth and was about to ask why Trish was behaving so extravagantly, then she stopped. Trish’s smile grew until it looked like it would meet behind her head. She nodded.

 

'Yeah,' she said brightly. 'Me, too. Just wait ‘till I tell you what made me grow.'

 

****

 

Isn’t it great?'

 

Sheila stared at Trish, her mouth open. Trish continued to wiggle her butt wildly while maintaining a hold on her boyfriend. Davey was clearly becoming uncomfortable with her overt display but there seemed to be little he could do about it.

 

'C’mon, baby,' he muttered under his breath. Trish leaned towards his ear. 'Yes, I love you, baby, you know that. Yes, you were great last night. Yes, yes. Come on, now, let me go. C’mon, Trish. Dammit, come on.'

 

'Oh, okay, you spoilsport,' Trish giggled. She fastened her lips on his with such strength that Sheila found herself wondering if the force was bending his teeth. After a few seconds she abruptly eased her hold on Davey, her arms reaching up to encircle his neck. Davey too seemed to relax, the tautness in his legs and arms diminishing. As she continued to kiss him Sheila saw his skin darken to a remarkably rosy hue.

 

'Last night was the best night of my life, lover,' Trish said, her faux sotto voce voice clearly audible to everyone around them. She touched his lips with one finger and giggled again. 'And we’ve got a date for tonight, remember. Now, shoo, ‘cause I want to talk to Sheila.'

 

'Uh, sure.' Davey nodded. He turned and offered Sheila a halfhearted wave. 'It was nice to meet you, Sheila.'

 

Trish pecked her boyfriend once more on the lips. Her free hand slipped down his front. Sheila felt herself go red all over as Trish squeezed Davey’s equipment. Davey visibly squirmed but a huge smile lit his face.

 

'Tonight?' he asked. Trish nodded. As Davey stepped away she plopped back down in her chair and attacked her tray of food.

 

'You wouldn’t believe it, Sheel,' she said around a mouthful of fruit salad.

 

'I don’t believe it,' Sheila replied. 'Trish, I—I don’t know what to say. First Nancy, and now you? God, am I infecting everyone I meet?'

 

Trish’s enthusiastic mastication slowed but did not stop. She thumped a straw into a box container of juice and sucked its contents into her mouth to clear it.

 

'Sheila, I think this is the most wonderful thing that could have happened to me,' she said, her voice softened. 'Like Nan said, I don’t mind. In fact, I don’t mind at all.' She looked at the juice box in her hands for a moment, and at Sheila. A curiously childlike grin lit her face. 'It’s really unbelievable—everything looks different, smaller. No, Sheila, don’t get all mopey on me. Like I told you last night, I don’t mind growing at all.'

 

Sheila found herself ducking at the incautious volume of Trish’s voice. She found herself looking over each shoulder to see if anyone was paying attention to their conversation. Trish correctly interpreted her gesture.

 

'And no, before you ask, I didn’t tell anybody. The only person who knows is Davey. He saw everything that happened to me.'

 

'Davey—Davey knows?' Sheila heard herself ask. The vague worry that was cuffing at her elbow matured instantly into a galloping dread. Trish was so surprised at her reaction she stopped eating and stared.

 

'Oh, Sheel, stop. Davey’s not going to say anything to anybody.' She quickly consumed a pint container of milk and opened another container of juice. 'Especially if I threaten not to give him any. No, you don’t need to worry about that.'

 

Trish reached across the table. She seized the forkful of hotcakes Sheila was neglecting and wheedled it into her mouth. Sheila found herself chewing automatically and with little zeal.

 

'Anyway, Davey was with me last night. I don’t know if it was because I kept thinking about what I would do if I got bigger like you, or because Davey was being really good for me, but I climaxed the first time we made love. A lot.' Trish’s smile was impish. She paused as if savoring the memory, her eyes unfocused. 'Davey came at the same time. We made enough noise to wake half the complex. Then, it started. It was just like you described. There was this tingling in my middle, and I just began to get bigger. It felt almost as good as the sex I’d just had. I guess I got so excited that it was happening to me I almost came again. That made it happen even more.'

 

Trish paused to shove more of Sheila’s food at her, adding to the half-chewed mass already in her mouth.

 

'Davey didn’t notice right away,' she continued. 'He was really pleased with himself because I was acting so excited. When I told him why he freaked for a little bit, but when he touched the results he felt better about it.' Her hands slipped up her ribs to caress the undersides of her breasts, making Sheila gulp. Her food caught halfway down her throat, making her choke. Trish quickly rose to her feet and slipped around the table to pound her back.

 

'Sheel, you okay? I can’t believe you’re taking this so hard.' Trish slipped one arm around Sheila’s neck in a gesture of warmth. 'Listen to me. I like what’s happened to me. I like it a lot. So, stop worrying. This is a dream come true for me. No Skinny Minnie for me anymore—not at all. And my boobs! They blew up like balloons, right in Davey’s hands! Don’t look at me like that. You’ve got the solution to every woman who ever wanted to be tall and curvy. Hey, it’s my body, after all. And in answer to your question, no, I don’t think you’re infecting everybody. This isn’t a disease. It’s a gift—a terrific one. Thanks, girlfriend.'

 

Sheila finally managed to swallow away the lump in her throat. Trish looked so thoroughly pleased and happy as she hugged her neck that it was impossible not to smile back in return. Trish nodded as if in satisfaction and returned to her tray.

 

'Man, I am hungry,' she announced more loudly as she inhaled her plate. 'I don’t think there’s enough food in this place to satisfy me this morning. I ate every snack I’d had in my room last night, and made Davey go to that all-night Chinese place in Northridge to get us some take-out afterwards. He was pissed at first, but when I stood up and showed him how much bigger I was he was putty in my hands.'

 

'You grew that much?' Sheila asked. Trish nodded solemnly, then grinned again.

 

'After we made love two more times?' she replied. 'Sure did. This—whatever it is—is a great aphrodisiac. It was the best sex I’d ever had.' She applied her napkin to her mouth in an exaggerated gesture, the patted her very distended stomach.

 

'Didn’t have my belly when I woke up this morning, either,' she announced with something akin to pride in her voice. 'Flat as a board. And muscle! Did you get, you know, stronger when you grew?'

 

Sheila nodded wordlessly. She couldn’t help her eyes boggling as Trish flexed a bicep. The bulge that sprang up under the tight spandex of her shirtsleeve was astonishingly large and round.

 

'Look at this,' Trish said. Her mouth was round with surprise. 'It—it wasn’t this big this morning.'

 

She looked down at herself quickly. Sheila was not surprised to see that the swell of food in her belly had diminished somewhat from its former proportions. Trish rubbed her hands up and down the curve below her ribs. Then her hands stole upwards, hefting her feminine assets. Her eyes visibly widened.

 

'Sheila?' There was a note of uncertainty in her voice that made Sheila look up sharply. Trish’s former ebullience had vanished from her face. As she looked up to meet her friend’s eyes Sheila saw a mirror image of the expression she knew she had worn the first time her body had grown.

 

'Did you—did you keep growing? After the first time, when you had the hiccups?' Trish asked. Sheila nodded.

 

'A little,' she replied. She tried to keep her voice as positive as possible. 'More like I filled out some. My boobs did get bigger, and my arms—well, all of me—got a little harder, I guess.' She flexed her own bicep. Even under the loose cotton cloth of her sleeve the round ball of muscle that appeared was as surprising to her as Trish’s had been. God, my muscles really got bigger, too, she thought. 'Trish, don’t be scared—'

 

'Scared? This is fuckin’ great!'

 

The uncertainty in Trish’s face vanished like a mirage. Her accepting ebullience returned—no, that was the wrong word, Sheila thought. Trish was enthused, fervently so. She jumped to her feet and began to do her victory dance again. Sheila couldn’t help her eyes tracing the new curves her friend had grown overnight, as obvious as they were under the tight grip of her clothing.

 

'Sit down, Trish,' Sheila said. Her worry gave her voice an edge but Trish did not notice it.

 

'This is fantastic!' she said. Her voice was far too loud. Sheila saw faces turning in their direction.

 

'Trish, please sit. Now, listen to me. What’s happened to me and Nancy and you isn’t natural. It can’t be. Nobody has ever grown so fast before. I don’t know if what happened to us is dangerous—'

 

'Dangerous? No way,' Trish replied, her typical tartness in full force. 'Are you kidding? I’ve never felt better in my life. I feel big and strong and ready to take on the world.' She struck the classic bodybuilder pose. Sheila was shocked to see her muscles bulge out more than before. Trish dropped her arms and leaned towards her friend conspiratorially. 'Horny, too. I really feel good, Sheel. I feel wonderful. There’s nothing wrong with that.'

 

Now it was Sheila’s turn to stare. What Trish said seemed to be true. She didn’t look like she was anything but a healthy, bigger specimen of her normal self. Her energy seemed without end and there was a glow about her that defied the idea of unwellness. Sheila found herself staring at the untouched food on her plate. She felt Trish touch her wrist, gently.

 

'Lighten up, girlfriend,' Trish said softly. She straightened again and looked around. A dazzling smile split her face. Sheila followed her gaze and understood why. Every male within easy sight was looking fully at Trish. She thrust out her chest and batted her eyes coquettishly. Sheila sucked in her breath at the suddenly obvious nipples that adorned her friend’s breasts, which stuck out firmly against her top.

 

'Looks like I’m back on top again, Sheila,' Trish said. 'Davey’s going to have to work to keep my affections to himself. Oh, don’t look like that. Hope you like your breakfast cold. I’ll talk to you later.'

 

Trish grabbed up her tray and left the table, her hips swaying sensuously. The ambient volume of the conversations around Sheila diminished markedly, then rose again. A soft wolf whistle made itself heard and Sheila could see open mouths and wide eyes from among the male occupants of nearby tables. As she watched the eyes shifted from Trish’s retreating figure to rest on her. She felt herself warm under the looks. To distract herself she turned to her own food tray.

 

As Trish had suggested, her breakfast was now cold. She ate absently, finishing her meal in a few minutes. As she rose to leave a low-voiced, distinct wow reached her ears. She oriented in the direction the voice came from and felt her blush return. Every table surrounding hers seemed to be occupied solely by males, all of whom were looking in her direction. She saw smiles and amazed expressions appear amid the circle of faces as she straightened to her full height. A sudden clatter revealed how one spectator had apparently dropped the tray he was holding as he stared at her. Sheila suddenly recalled Trish’s words about 'being on top'.

 

'I wouldn’t be so sure, Trish,' she whispered to herself as she stepped towards the cafeteria exit.

 

The clocktower in the quadrangle warned Sheila that she would be tardy for her first class. She stretched her legs to cover more ground as she turned towards Wilford Hall and its Humanities wing. She fell into a long, loping stride, shaking out her hair in the breeze of her passage. Sheila found herself reveling in the sheer distance she was covering with each step. The exercise seemed to tone her muscles and she felt warmth flow from her calves up to her hips and back down again. She slipped her bookbag from one shoulder to another and looked at her watch. For some reason time seemed perversely determined to run faster than usual this morning—she only had a minute or two before her class started.

 

Sheila shoved both arms into the loops of her bag and increased her stride. In three steps she had gone from a long walk to a trot and then a slow run. She had rarely run for the sake of running in her entire adult life and the feeling of power that flowed into her from her legs was intoxicating. Sheila inhaled the cool morning air deeply and increased her pace still more. By the time Wilford Hall appeared before her she was running full tilt, her legs pistoning, her chest heaving. Spectators were stopping to watch her as she flew past and she again felt that curious sense of conceit at the admiring looks she was receiving. She had more than made up the time she needed to get to her class as she came to a halt in front of the Hall and she stopped momentarily, stepping into the shadows cast by the carved stone lintel over the door to the Hall to cool down—

 

Sheila felt her breath catch in her throat. She shook her head and concentrated on getting her pounding heart to slow enough to let her feel what the rest of her body was doing. There, she felt it again—a familiar tingling sensation that seemed to flow from her middle up into her chest and down her legs.

 

'Oh, no,' she muttered aloud. Another moment’s rest and there was no doubt. Sheila could feel the tingling begin to ease as it spread out to her fingers and toes. She looked down at herself. Her generous morning meal was not in evidence, as her slim, flat belly bore witness. As she watched the broad curve of her bosom seemed to spread out a little further from her chest, pressing her new bra more firmly into the cloth of her top. She shook her head and looked again. A second glance stripped away any doubt she could have harbored. Her breasts had clearly obeyed the impulse of whatever it was she had just caused to happen (for the third time now, she thought) and had blossomed just enough to pack her new undergarment to its maximum. She bent forward to look over her expanded boobs—and sucked in a breath in shock. The muscles in her legs seemed to be throbbing and rippling, moving visibly under her skin. In a few seconds she seemed to get even taller and stronger-looking, and taller still. The hem of her skirt was slowly, inexorably rising up her thighs, revealing more and more of her limbs. Sheila felt eyes on her as she stood in the shadow of the door and she stood erect, trying to fashion a neutral expression on her face. Doing so reminded her again that her support was now snug around her ribs and that her breasts were being gripped just enough to remind her of their new size. Worries about getting to class on time disappeared from her head. She needed to find out what was happening to her, and now. Sheila turned away from the Hall and headed back towards the Quad, and the campus clinic offices.

 

*****

 

Sheila found the going becoming increasingly difficult with each step she took. The tingling was still there deep inside her, flowing into every corner of her frame. She cursed Trish for insisting she buy shoes with heels-every step she now took in her stylish, open-toed clogs was squeezing her toes to the point of real pain. It took only a minute for her gait to slow from a fast walk to an aching shuffle, then a stop. Sheila looked at the nearest bench. A sour look crossed her face as she peered at her feet.

 

'Well, at least I don't have to sit down this time,' she muttered. She sucked in her breath, bit down on her lip and planted all her weight on one shoe. Sharp needles of pain exploded up her shin from her foot but she managed to use the toe of her other shoe to pull down the ankle strap. A quick shift and kick, and her new shoe skittered across the concrete sidewalk. Repeating the action freed her from the pain-amazing how much too-small shoes really hurt, she thought-and she let her breath out explosively.

 

'Oh, that's better,' she said aloud. She looked at her shoes, now lying negligently in the middle of the walk, then down at her stockinged feet. 'Can't believe I have to do this again.'

 

She bent to retrieve her shoes-and came back up again. Her face went hot at the sudden breeze that brushed her inner corners. A quick look down confirmed that her new, wine-red leather skirt had gone from below mid-thigh to above, and a sudden snugness across hips and buttocks warned that she was now filling the skirt to overflowing. Bending over would give anyone walking up behind her a free show, something she had no desire to do. Sheila shook her head and tried to calm the tingling that was still making itself felt below her navel.

 

'Oh, stop,' she whispered. There was an edge of desperation in her own voice and she tried to swallow it away. 'Come on. Stop growing.'

 

Sheila stood up as straight as her increasingly constricting clothing would allow and closed her eyes, willing her heart to stop pounding so hard. It seemed to take an eternity for the sensations coursing through her body to dampen and then fade away. As the last vestiges of the tingling disappeared Sheila smiled in relief. She tried wiggling her fingers, then her toes. With the tingling gone she could feel a gentle, suffusing warmth spreading through her limbs and up her throat. It was relaxing and curiously pleasant, seeming to flow through her limbs just like the growth tingling had done before. Sheila's relief in her body stopping its latest size increase knew no bounds. She smiled as she felt the growth-caused stress in her muscles ease.

 

'Whew,' she said aloud.

 

'Are you all right?' a strange voice asked. Sheila opened her eyes. She was surrounded by a half-dozen students, who were staring at her inquisitively. Most were boys younger than her. One boy had a slim girl with butter-blond hair on his arm whose own expression reflected equal parts curiosity and an open disdain that surprised Sheila. Then, as she straightened her impromptu audience went wide-eyed. Sheila immediately knew why-she was taller than the tallest of them and the clothing she wore clearly looked too small for her frame.

 

'You all right?' the tallest boy asked. Sheila tried to smile to hide her self-consciousness. His very visible reaction at her smile only embarrassed her more. Another member of her audience, a dark-haired girl in Goth-cut clothing, stared at her openmouthed.

 

'Yes. Yes, I'm fine,' she replied. Her entourage looked down at her feet, then up at her. 'I, uh, I was trying out a new pair of shoes. I guess they're just

a little tight.'

 

'That's not all,' the blond muttered under her breath. Sheila turned to look directly at her. They stared at one another for a split-second, then the girl dropped her eyes. Sheila swallowed again and turned, stepping barefoot through the crowd towards her shoes. She tried not to think just how much of her panties would show-she blessed the fact that her more daring thong was safely in the clothes hamper in her apartment-as she stooped to retrieve them. A low, distinct 'whoa' made itself heard as she rose to her feet and began to walk away. Sheila did not look back, nor did she care what passersby thought as they observed her barefoot condition. The clinic was on the other side of the campus and she needed answers to what was happening to her. Why was her body growing like this?

 

Upon turning the corner around the Humanities wing Sheila's first impression was that some sort of accident must have occurred on campus. The front entrance to the clinic was crowded. She lifted her chin to help focus over the heads of passersby and saw two police officers and several well-dressed civilians all milling about. Another, more motley-dressed crowd was standing in a loose group at the foot of the steps leading to the clinic, obviously animated from their body language and conversation. Two campus police cruisers held sway directly in front of the clinic, and a herd of dark-colored vehicles were crowded together down the avenue leading towards the North gate, their obviously ordinary appearance commanding attention. Sheila slowed her pace, then stopped.

 

A handful of people came out of the doors of the clinic, surrounding two people wearing the white lab coats that were the typical attire in the clinic. All the strangers wore dark suits over white shirts and ties, their hairstyles were severely short and to a man their visages were hidden behind dark-aviator-style sunglasses. Stepping down into the spectators at the foot of the stairs they stood out like nudes in church. Sheila gulped as she recognized the short, overweight man with horn rimmed eyeglasses and frizzled, graying hair tied back in a crude ponytail in their midst. It was Doctor-Ghust, was that his name? Yes, it was that same Doctor Ghust who she had seen being interviewed by the local mass media after the accident at Glevner Hall when she had walked into the Biology wing the day of the accident. What was he doing here, and who were all the suits surrounding him? She took two more steps towards the clinic doors, then stopped again. Ghust was gesturing at the gaggle of suits surrounding him, his motions nervous. Sheila focused on his face. Although it was a mild, temperate day there was an obvious sheen of perspiration running down his pale, unshaven face. He said something as he gesticulated. One of the suits surrounding him turned and seemed to stare at him for a moment. The obvious anxiety of Ghust's face made Sheila's own unease return as she observed the tight, unsmiling mouth of the plainclothes man. Is that what he is? she thought quickly. Some kind of police officer? What is going on here?

 

'Sheila?' The sound of a voice right next to her almost made Sheila jump out of her skin. Her shock turned to relief as she saw a familiar face standing beside her.

 

'Oh, Dr. Williams,' she began, 'you surprised me-'

 

Sheila stared at Williams. The willowy physician was dressed in a neat, dark-colored blouse and denims, with a pair of western, pointed-toed boots on her feet. Sheila could clearly remember that Williams was a tall woman, as tall as she had been when she first went to the clinic. Now she was a good half-head shorter, and she looked-smaller, narrower, curiously distorted. Sheila felt her head begin to swim at Williams' diminished-looking appearance. She tried to deny what had happened to her body-she couldn't have changed that much in such a short period of time-but the evidence before her eyes shredded that hope and she felt the flutter return in her chest. Williams' kind, professional smile faded as she looked up into Sheila's eyes. Sheila's embarrassment grew as big as she was and she looked away.

 

'Hi,' Williams said. 'Sheila, are you all right?' A touch at her elbow drew Sheila's attention back down to Williams. The doctor had stepped closer to her. Williams cocked her head in a deliberately whimsical fashion and smiled again.

 

'Is it me?' she asked, her tone light. She ran her fingers through her short, tousled hair. 'I'm afraid I do usually look like a bear in the morning. Do you feel okay? I remember you came in to see me about having dizzy spells? Are you still having them? What is it?'

 

Sheila felt her mouth go dry. After a few seconds she realized it was because she was flapping her mouth open and closed like a fish. She snapped her jaws shut and swallowed. Her heart was pounding again and she thought she could feel that tingling returning. She shook her head with more force than she intended. Williams seemed taken aback for a moment, then nodded.

 

'No,' Sheila finally managed to get out. 'No, I haven't had any since-since I saw you. Dizzy spells, that is.' It was instantly apparent that her explanation was not holding much water with Williams. She turned and pointed towards the clinic. 'I-I was just wondering what's going on-look!'

 

Sheila felt her anxiety ratchet upward. Ghust was leaning away from one of the suits, his gestures broad, his voice loud enough to be heard even from where Sheila stood. There could be no mistaking the expression on his face as the nearest stranger snatched out with one firm hand to seize his coat sleeve. Within a heart's beat Ghust was literally being handled by every stranger around him as they closed in around him, close enough to climb into his skin. They began to push and cajole him towards the nearest unmarked vehicle parked next to the curb. Sheila saw a ripple of reaction run through the growing crowd as the suits pushed through them. Campus police made their appearance, pushing into the assembled students, helping make a hole in the crowd for Ghust and the suits. In a few seconds Ghust was thrust into one of the large unmarked cars. It pulled away from the curb the instant its doors were closed, leaving a gap that was quickly filled by spectators and police.

 

'What's that all about?' Williams wondered aloud. She turned back to Sheila.

 

'Sheila, is something wrong?' The doctor's eyes roved up and down Sheila. 'Why are you carrying your shoes? Look, I can tell you're upset about something. Would you like to talk to me inside? I'm not on call for another hour.'

 

Sheila swallowed again. Everything was so unreal-her body's growing, Dr. Williams looking so weirdly shrunken, her bare feet on the harsh concrete of the sidewalk. Encouraged by pointing, pushing campus police officers the crowd was steadily thinning from the clinic entrance. A path was cleared just in time for a new entourage to appear from inside-more nondescript suits, all male, of various ages and sizes. Then two soldiers stepped out, their bearing straight, their dark green uniforms pressed just so. The two soldiers-officers? Sheila had no idea, but there was a ripple of interest from the dispersing crowd, which quickly reassembled itself-looked like walking advertisements for the ROTC. But, there was no ROTC on campus. What were they doing here?

 

'Just what is going on here?' Williams said. She touched Sheila's elbow again. 'Look, Sheila, why don't you come inside. I'm available to talk to you, once I find out what all the excitement is about.'

 

Sheila watched as Williams looked her up and down again. Sheila gulped at the frankness of the doctor's observation. Williams frowned for a moment, and looked her up and down again.

 

'Well, you certainly look healthy. If anything, you look like you might have put on a few pounds from the last time I saw you,' Williams continued. She started at Sheila's reaction. 'What's wrong? I think you'd better come inside with me.'

 

'Uh, ah, no,' Sheila stammered, digging in her bare feet as Williams tugged on her elbow. 'No, I'm-I'm fine, thank you, Dr. Williams. I said I'm fine. I-I

have a class to go to, I've got to go.'

 

'With no shoes on?' Williams asked. She looked down. 'What, are they too small for you feet? Sheila, it's funny, but if I didn't know better I'd think you're, well, taller than I remember. I'm sorry-I know that's a silly thing to say, but-'

 

'Thanks, Dr. Williams, but like I said, I've gotta go,' Sheila said, pulling her arm free of Williams' grasp. 'I'll try to see you later, okay?'

 

Sheila turned her back on Williams and began to step quickly, turning her head away when she heard Williams call after her so she could truthfully say later that she did not see the physician waving. She stepped as quickly as her increasingly tight skirt allowed, turning to avoid knots of students appearing in her path who were involved in their own affairs. After wandering for a few moments she lifted her head to see that she had left the heart of the campus and now stood before the main men's dormitory, with Fraternity Row just ahead. A nearby sculpture composed of knee-high concrete blocks scattered across the lawn like a giant child's playthings offered her a place to sit, and she accepted.

 

Sheila tried to sort out the jumble of thoughts in her head. All she knew at this moment was that she was afraid-afraid of what was happening to her body, afraid of what she had just seen at the campus clinic, afraid of what might happen to her in the next day, the next hour, the next minute. Something had happened to her-no, it was still happening to her, as the increasingly snug condition of her new outfit told-that she did not understand. She could not help the feeling that what she had just seen at the clinic was very important to her, but she had no idea why. Everything seemed topsy-turvy, uncertain, confusing. All that was certain right now was that her body had grown again and was straining the new clothing that had fit her comfortably this morning. Her blouse was skin-tight and clinging, its open neck allowing her burgeoned, bra-squeezed cleavage to foam up into visibly firm, round bulges high against her chest. She looked at her arms. Both wrists now stuck completely out of her sleeves-sleeves that limned the rippling forearm muscles beneath the fabric. Her fingers looked absurdly long, attached to well-formed hands, and her feet-God, they looked so big, wrapped tightly in her now-ragged knee-hi's. Her bangs fell into her eyes, blocking her vision. She reached up automatically and drew them back, then pulled a tuft free. God, it looked like her hair had grown more than the rest of her. She grasped her mane and drew it forward, draping it across her bosom. It had grown from below her shoulders to below her ribs, and it was thick, amazingly so-a rich, lustrous brown that at any other time would have made her feel beautiful and confident. Now all it did was remind her that her body was now bigger than ever and she did not know the cause of her growth.

 

The sound of voices drew Sheila out of her reverie. She looked up to see a gaggle of male students, some wearing evidence of their fraternal associations, all chattering as they sauntered along the sidewalk. Snatches of their conversation were loud enough for her to make out from a distance.

 

'Fucking unbelievable, man.'

 

'Meningitis is scary. You can die from that shit.'

 

'Can you believe it? Some asshole releases the stuff out of the bio labs!'

 

'The whole Biology building is shut down again!'

 

'I wonder if all of us are going to have to be tested for it.'

 

'What test? It's antibiotics for everyone, guy-'

 

'-women first. Minerva Hall's where it's supposed to have started-'

 

'-unless it's viral meningitis. In that case, stick your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye!'

 

'They'll have to stop classes for a while. That'd be cool.'

 

'They'll have to, to stop it from spreading-'

 

'Could be worse. I heard someone in Glevner was fucking around with really weird shit-stuff that'd turn you inside out.'

 

'Yeah, right. Here's a tip: yellow means you're going and white means the opposite.'

 

'Fuck you.'

 

'Chill, dudes. We're getting free pills at the clinic!'

 

'Yeah, right. Knock yourself out, guy.'

 

The conversation abruptly died away as the gaggle drew close to Sheila. A loud scuffle made itself heard as someone in the group tripped on someone else's feet. Unsurprisingly the conversation turned her way for a moment.

 

'Whoa.'

 

'Fuckin' supermodel.'

 

'I'm in love.'

 

'Hey, can I call you?'

 

'She's probably got a boyfriend. All the really good-looking ones do.'

 

'Anybody ever tell you you're an asshole?'

 

'Are you okay, Miss?'

 

Sheila looked up. Almost the entire gaggle had stopped on the sidewalk opposite her. The last speaker, his fraternity blazer neatly buttoned around his torso, stood at the fore, his expression a mixture of admiration and concern. His comrades were grouped in a loose circle behind him. Sheila did not know whether to be relieved or annoyed at the lascivious grins that decorated their faces.

 

'I'm fine, thank you,' she replied. The spokesman nodded. Sheila saw him look at the pair of shoes still clutched in her hand, then up into her eyes again. 'Shoes too tight,' she said weakly, smiling with genuine embarrassment.

 

'Oh,' the frat boy said. Curiously, he also turned red. 'Sorry to bother you.'

 

Sheila smiled again. She rose to her feet. As she straightened fully the mouths of every male around her dropped open in unison. 'Holy Momma,' someone said. Sheila's sense of humor won out over her anxiety. Her smile grew broader.

 

'Would you like to borrow my shoes?' a boy in the back row asked. 'They're brand new.'

 

Sheila shook her head. The idea made her feel even more self-conscious than before.

 

'No, thanks. I'm fine.' She seated herself again and dropped her shoes onto the grass. After a moment's hesitation she thrust her feet back into her clogs, squeezing her toes together as much as comfort would permit. A ripple of anxiety ran up her spine at just how much of her foot overflowed the heel of her shoe-I did grow more than before, she thought. Another second's hesitation, and she set her feet and stood again.

 

Sheila was prepared for the needles of pain that laced her feet. What she was not prepared for was how high she now was with three-inch heels on-she towered head-and-shoulders over her spectators. She had to fight down nausea both from the pain in her shins and a sudden stab of vertigo. To compound things her stomach growled loudly and cramped, drawing a groan from her and an exclamation from her audience. The grins had disappeared from her audience to be replaced by looks of awe and shock. Following their eyes told her why-her body was still filling out from that last growth spurt. She quickly tucked her books up against her front to hide the gaps between the buttons of her blouse and tried wriggling to keep her skirt from riding up over her hips. The silence that greeted her efforts was deafening. Her stomach voiced its distress again, more loudly.

 

'Uh, I have to go now,' she said. Pain made her voice tense and thready, but her audience obediently parted to let her through. She hobbled her way to the sidewalk, then across the street, warring with her hungry belly all the way. She stopped on reaching the other side of the street and looked back. The gaggle of boys had begun to move again, slowly. Most of their heads were still looking her way. She turned back. Her stomach growled again. God, she was hungry. She needed to get something to eat, but walking all the way to the cafeteria in her shrunken footwear was out of the question. The rumble of a diesel engine caught her ear. She almost cried out in relief when she saw a food service truck drawing to a stop just short of the men's dorm entrance. Sheila grabbed at her fanny pack. Joy turned to disappointment when she saw her wallet was bare-she had used every dollar she had to buy food for herself yesterday. Desperation tinged her hunger until she saw a small sign beside the front entrance to the dorm.

 

'Oh, thank God,' Sheila said to herself. She grimaced with each step as she made her way into the lobby of the dorm. As advertised, there was a small ATM sitting in splendid isolation in the middle of the entrance. Sheila fumbled for her bankcard. She missed the correct button three times while trying to work the machine-her hands were so big! She uttered words of primitive, powerful magic under her breath as she tried to press the right keys. The pain in her feet was getting so bad it was making her eyes tear, hampering her efforts further.

 

'Oh, God, stop,' she said through gritted teeth as she managed to punch in her code number. She stabbed the button for a quick withdrawal. Her feet felt like they were on fire and she tried shifting her posture. It only made things worse.

 

'Sheila? Is that you? You okay?' Sheila blinked away her tears. John was standing beside her, his ever-present guitar slung across his back. His eyes were wide as he looked at her.

 

'No,' she replied, biting her lip. 'No, I'm not. John, I need help.'

 

'What's wrong?'

 

'It's my shoes. They're killing me.'

 

'What can I do?' John's voice was reassuring. Sheila looked around. A sea of male faces had surrounded her, staring. They all looked like the frat boys had-shocked, awed, desirous. She shook her head.

 

'John, is there someplace private we can go? I-I don't want to be seen right now.'

 

John looked startled. He nodded. 'Sure. Follow me.'