Dumb Blonde
by Jamie Westwood
Tricia gets a treatment that turns her into a giantess
Update: 30/10/1997 to giantess

Chapter the First:

She should never have let Steve talk her into it. Even before the
quantum accelerator had fired she knew that something was wrong. It was
just an intuitive feeling - nothing she could have put her finger on at
the time - but now her worst fears were horribly confirmed. This was,
without a single shadow of a doubt, the most dreadful moment of her
life!

Patricia Louise Morton and her husband Steven were an odd couple in
many ways. She was 29, a gorgeous blonde fashion model whose face had
appeared in every glossy magazine in the civilized world; he was an
attractive but quiet 45-year-old professor at a small provincial
university. Her name was a household word everywhere in Britain; his was
virtually unknown outside his narrow academic field of quantum molecular
enhancement. He was a genius, while she had a reputation for being a bit
clueless, a dumb blonde whose mind was unable to handle anything beyond
clothes and looking pretty. Some unkind people (largely her rival
supermodels) called her a "bimbo", a label she violently detested.
None of this was really fair. Tricia had, after all, graduated from
college (albeit with the lowest grade of degree it was possible to get),
but she did have a tendency to get flustered when under pressure, and to
say and do unfortunate things. She also tended to get miffed at times
(particularly after she had just said or done something stupid) and to
snap the heads off those around her. A "Tricia Morton Huff" was a term
well used amongst those who knew her.
Nonetheless, those who knew Tricia VERY well could see through
these minor faults to the kind and generous young lady beneath. She was
a kindly mother, a loving wife, a dutiful daughter and a good friend to
many. Steve had fallen in love with her when he had tutored her in
mathematics (never her best subject) during her turbulent final year at
university. As soon as she had graduated, Tricia changed her career
plans from physics research to fashion modelling, and the couple were
soon married. Despite their many differences they enjoyed a happier and
more stable marriage than most of their friends, either on the faculty
or the catwalk!
Steve and Tricia both led busy, independent lives: While he
lectured at the university and developed his theories of quantum
enhancement, she jetted off to Paris and New York to display the latest
collections of world famous designers. Nonetheless, they always found
plenty of time for each other, not to mention their two young sons Jamie
and Benjy. Indeed, they enjoyed no fewer than eight years of wedded
bliss before the first shadow fell, the first event in the chain which
was to lead to Tricia's current predicament.
Tricia had been injured in a car crash.
The injuries were not SO serious in themselves. The paramedics had
easily freed her from the wreckage, and within a month she was able to
walk again. Nonetheless, there was something in her upper spine which
would not quite heal. Every now and then she experienced a piercing stab
between her shoulder blades, which often made her cry out in agony. She
saw specialist after specialist, all of whom were baffled. It was only
as a very last resort that Steve suggested his own technique of quantum
molecular enhancement.
"I know it's never been tried on a human before, darling." he said,
"But there's got to be a first time for everything. It'll not only heal
your backbone, but it'll make it so hard that not even an atomic
explosion could harm it."
"But won't it change me in other ways?" asked Tricia.
"Yes." agreed Steve, "It'll transform your whole body chemistry.
Your bones will become harder than granite and your muscles stronger
than steel. You'll be able to bend iron bars, pick up double decker
buses in one hand, and even bullets will just bounce off your skin. I
should think that that would be a change for the better - especially for
a woman! Just think, you'll never have to worry about being mugged or
raped again!"
Tricia was tempted, but she couldn't help worrying about the
possible side-effects of this untested treatment. However, the steadily
worsening stabs of pain and the apparent lack of any alternative
gradually wore down her resistance. In addition to this, Jamie and Benjy
(now aged seven and eight) liked the idea of having Wonder Woman for a
mum, and eagerly joined the campaign to persuade her. At last, after
about two weeks of constant pain and nagging, Tricia finally gave in and
agreed.

Chapter the Second:

The quantum accelerator had been developed by Steve and his
colleagues over several years, as part of the government-funded "Project
Titan". Housed in the largest of the underground research laboratories
beneath Donchester University Physics Institute, it used enough
electricity in a minute to light the whole of London for a week. Not
surprisingly, the machine was only ever switched on for a few seconds at
a time!
Tricia had to sign hundreds of consent documents before she was
finally led down to the enhancement chamber at the head of the
accelerator. As she sat in the steel seat, the huge metal doors closing
around her, she felt the first twinge of foreboding. But the sight of
Steve's smiling face through the round window soon calmed her nerves. A
sudden crack, like a bolt of thunder came from deep within the bowels of
the machine, after which a fiery blue phosphorescence began to surround
her. She felt a strange tingling throughout her body, as unbelievable
power surged into her skin, muscle and bones. It was an exciting
feeling; she felt empowered, as if she would never know pain or fatigue
ever again! Then it was over. The blue light faded and died, and the
doors of the chamber opened. She stepped out to be met by her husband
and a group of white-coated technicians, all of whom looked very
excited.
"How do you feel, Mrs. Morton?" asked one of the technicians. He
had already been introduced to her as Phil Francis, technical
superintendent for Project Titan.
"O.K. - I think!" said Tricia. Now that the tingling and the
phosphorescence were gone, she felt exactly the same as she had before.
Could any fundamental change really have taken place? Meanwhile Steve
had picked up a steel bar from a nearby tabletop, which he now handed to
his wife.
"Here, darling." he said, "See if you can bend this."
Tricia looked doubtfully at the bar in her hands: It looked so
thick and strong that she would not have thought herself capable of
bending it even a millimetre. Nonetheless, she grasped both ends and
applied her strength.
To her utter amazement, the bar gave way at once. It seemed almost
to be made of Plasticine! Delighted, she bent it right round on itself
and tied it in a knot, before handing it back to Steve. All the
technicians clapped and cheered, as delighted as Tricia at the outcome
of their experiment. This was the culmination of many years of
painstaking research, as much for them as for Steve. Steve put the bent
bar aside and gave his wife a kiss. It was a magic moment for everyone.

As the first woman ever to have undergone quantum molecular
enhancement, Tricia Morton was the top story in all the newspapers
worldwide, and much of the next two weeks were taken up with newspaper
and T.V. interviews. There were also long sessions in the laboratory as
the scientists strove to measure exactly how strong she was. Even those
precious hours she DID get to spend at home were spent largely giving
demonstrations of her strength, while her sons and their friends looked
on in amazement.
Yet as the weeks wore on, the novelty wore off, and life began to
go back to normal. Tricia felt that she OUGHT to be the happiest girl
alive; not only had her shoulder pain gone, but pain itself seemed to
have become a thing of the past. She could now stub her toe or even rest
her hand on a red-hot cooker-ring without the slightest discomfort. Best
of all, she could now go unaccompanied wherever and whenever she liked,
totally free of danger; even the roughest and toughest prowlers on
Donchester's streets turned and fled when they heard the approaching
tip-tap of Tricia's stilettos!
Yet all was not well in Tricia's mind. The foreboding she had felt
as she entered the accelerator had returned in greater force, and she
felt sure there would be some fearful consequences of her and Steve's
meddling with nature. She began to become morose and snappy, and Steve
feared the onset of another of her famous Huffs.
"Whatever's the matter, love?" he said one morning, "You've not
been yourself for several days now. I hope the pain isn't returning?"
"No, dear." said Tricia, "I'm sorry I've been so beastly with you
and the kids just lately. I think I just need a break."
"Why not go and visit your mother?" asked Steve, "The kids and I
can manage without you for a while. And I don't think you've seen her
since ...... your treatment"
Tricia smiled at him.
"Thank you, darling." she said, "I do love you so much."

An hour later, as Steve was beginning his first lecture of the day
at the university, Tricia was speeding down the urban motorway in her
beautiful red convertible. It was a beautiful spring morning; apart from
a few puffy white clouds, the sky was blue and clear, and the bright sun
flashed on Tricia's long blonde hair. It was only an hour's drive to the
village of Witham where her mother lived, but it was a journey she was
never to complete.....

Chapter the Third:

As she glided through the outer suburbs of Donchester, Tricia began
to feel very strange. The dreadful anxiety was now the strongest it had
ever been, and it was beginning to make her feel light headed. She
pulled over to the hard shoulder, stopped the car and got out for a
walk. As she stepped away from the car, the world around her seemed
slowly to dissolve, as if some magical mist were gathering before her
eyes. She stumbled, recovered herself, but now had no sense of which
direction she was headed. In her confusion she stumbled onto the
carriageway, causing an approaching car to swerve angrily. The sound of
the car's horn echoed in her ears for a moment, but was then cut
abruptly short.

Suddenly Tricia was herself again, though she no longer seemed to
be standing in the road. The sound of the traffic was gone, the air
tasted cooler and sweeter, and looking around her she noticed that the
sky seemed bigger and bluer than usual. There were also strange puffs of
what looked like mist floating here and there, at about shoulder level.
They reminded Tricia of something she had seen only a few seconds ago.
Could they be .... the clouds!!?

"No!!!! Please No!!!!" Slowly Tricia forced herself to look down to
her feet.

Her worst fears were confirmed: She was HUGE! The suburbs of
Doncaster were spread out like a map around her feet, shops and houses
smaller than sugar-lumps, factories and tower-blocks mere matchboxes.
Even the motorway was down there, running under both her feet and
looking like a long piece of black ribbon. Tricia could see tiny cars on
it, looking no bigger than ladybirds. Many of them had already collided
with her feet causing multiple pile-ups on both lanes; the impacts must
have been so feeble by Tricia's standard that she hadn't even felt them,
but many had now caught fire and the flames were spreading!
In her flustered state, Tricia's first thought was for her shoes.
They were hand-made leather ankle-boots which she had only bought the
previous day, and which were now in danger of being scorched by the
flames.
"Hey! My boots!" she gasped, stepping quickly off the motorway and
looking down to examine the damage. Her shoes were quite unharmed, but
there was a another surprise in store for her: She had stepped right
onto the middle of a suburban housing estate and at least fifty tiny
houses must have been pressed flat beneath her soles!
"Oops!" she gasped, the word sounding ridiculously inadequate in
her ears. Hardly daring to think of what she'd just done, Tricia stepped
backwards away from the estate, only to find that she'd trodden on
another neighbouring suburb. "Oh, golly!" she gulped, her horror and
dismay mounting. For the moment at least, she forced herself to keep her
feet still!
Looking about her, Tricia wondered exactly how big she was. She
knew she was a bit dim where numbers were concerned, but she guessed she
must be at least a mile high -considerably taller than the highest
mountain in Britain! Once again she examined the miniature city at her
feet, on which her own footprints now appeared as clearly as on freshly
fallen snow. The crushed houses were pressed hard into the ground -
there could have been no survivors. In the tiny streets between the
uncrushed houses she could see thousands of ant-sized people, some
running away from her in panic, others just gazing up in terror. There
were cars too, most of them being driven dangerously, some colliding and
others caught in traffic jams at junctions. Tricia wanted to say
something to the little people, to tell them she and didn't mean to harm
them, but seeing as she'd already stomped hundreds of them to human
pate, no suitable words sprang to mind! She turned her attention back to
the motorway.
The blaze of crashed cars was now really hotting up. Several fire-
engines had appeared on the scene, but their access to the blaze was
blocked by the long tailback of cars on both carriageways (some of whom
had been foolish enough to try to get past on the hard shoulder).
"Well." said Tricia to herself, "There's not much I can do for the
people I've already squashed, but perhaps I can save some lives here to
make up for it." She returned to the motorway (being careful to tread in
her previous footprints) and wondered how to extinguish the blaze. Her
first thought was to blow it out like a birthday candle, but she had a
vague feeling that that would only make the fire spread. Then she had
another idea which made her smile at her own cleverness.
"You're no dumb blonde, whatever people might say!" she said to
herself. "You can be one smart cookie at times, Tricia Morton!"
She rummaged in her handbag until she found a small bottle of nail
polish remover. It was a clear liquid, just like water, and there must
have been many thousands of gallons of it by "normal" standards. Smiling
at her own ingenuity she unscrewed the cap, crouched down, and poured
the liquid over the fires on both carriageways.

Suddenly the blaze became a fiery inferno. A tide of burning nail-
polish remover swept down both carriageways, igniting hundreds of cars
which had previously been in no danger at all. As the fire engines
themselves were engulfed, the tiny firemen jumped from their cabs to
escape the flame. They didn't survive long; a split second later
Tricia's gigantic boot came down on their heads as she finally resorted
to brute force and stomped out the fire underfoot. The flames finally
extinguished, she examined the label on the empty glass bottle:
"CAUTION", it read, "THIS PRODUCT IS HIGHLY INFLAMMABLE. KEEP AWAY FROM
NAKED FLAME".
Never, in her entire life, had Tricia felt more like the bimbo she
was sometimes accused of being; her well-meaning attempt to play the
heroine had only increased the death-toll by several hundred. Her
spirits were only slightly lifted by the discovery that her boots had
not been damaged by the fire!

Chapter the Fourth:

"What a mess!" said Tricia, as she surveyed the scenes of
destruction which now surrounded her feet. "How could this ever have
happened?"
She remembered a conversation she had once had with Steve, shortly
after they had watched the movie "Attack of the 50ft. Woman". Tricia had
been delighted to see Daryl Hannah turned into a giantess by aliens, and
she had asked Steve if such a thing could ever really happen. He had
laughed and said that it was all nonsense. Tricia hadn't really
understood his reasonings, but apparently if a person was to grow like
that, her body weight would increase faster than the strength of her
muscles and bones: A fifty-foot-tall woman would not even be able to
stand up, let alone fight with helicopters in the desert! Looking down
at herself, Tricia gave a wry laugh.
"It looks like you were wrong, darling." she chuckled, "Unless
....."
Suddenly a light seemed to come on in her mind, and she temporarily
forgot the carnage below.
"I bet I know what's happened!" she said, "The quantum accelerator
made me MUCH stronger than an ordinary-sized woman ought to be. Now my
body's responded by getting bigger, until I've finally become the right
size for my strength!"
Of course, this little theory didn't explain why her clothes had
grown too, but Tricia felt this was just a minor detail. All thoughts of
"being a bimbo" vanished from her mind as she mentally awarded herself a
Nobel Prize for physics. Although her thoughts soon came back down to
earth, she was now in a more positive and businesslike mood; she had
stopped feeling guilty and begun to feel angry. It was high time for
another Tricia Morton Huff!

"I must find Steve!", she said out loud. "He got me into this, and
he can get me out again!" Finding Steve would involve going to the
university, which in turn meant walking back into the heart of the town.
Tricia surveyed the many thousand houses, shops, factories wearhouses
and office blocks which separated her from the town centre; it would be
impossible to make the journey without treading on a good many of them,
but that could not be helped. There was no way in the world she was
going to remain rooted to the spot like because of a situation she could
not help, and if little people got trodden on then, well ....... they
could blame that on her idiot husband! In any case, she'd already
squashed or incinerated enough tiny folk not to feel squeamish about
pulverizing a few hundred more. She set off.
With her first step, Tricia flattened a multi-story car-park, a
cinema and a couple of warehouses. With her second she crushed another
small housing estate and a large factory. She chose her steps carefully
to minimize (within reason) the number of buildings she smashed, and
walked slowly enough to give SOME of the little people a chance of
getting clear. It was not them she was angry with!
But even before she had taken ten steps a new and horrible thought
struck her; she halted in mid-stride, her left foot poised over a
shopping centre. In her haste she had forgotten all about her two sons,
Jamie and Benjy, who were presently somewhere in the city below. Unless
she worked out exactly where, they stood a sizable chance of being
trodden on by their own mother! The boys would currently be at school.
Donchester Private School. Tricia often delivered them there in the
mornings, and she tried hard to remember exactly where it lay in
relation to her current position. She had a horrible feeling it was
rather close .....
Looking down she saw the school beside her right foot; it was
difficult to recognize it from this angle, but that was definitely the
red-tiled roof and the tarmac playground. Had she chosen to plant her
foot a smidgen to the left she would have crushed it - and all the
children - and been none the wiser! Her heart pounding with relief,
Tricia crouched down to examine the school more closely. The children
were there in the playground - about a hundred of them - all standing
still and looking up at her. They were as tiny as ants to her, but
straining her eyes she was just able to pick out the bright red jerseys
her sons had worn to school that morning. She smiled down at them.
"Hi, Jamie," she said with a little wave, "Hi, Benjy. I'm afraid
Mummy's a bit busy now, so she'll have to explain all this later. Right
now Daddy's got some explaining of his own to do". With that she stood
up, smoothed down her skirt, and continued her journey.
At last, Tricia reached the university. By her standard, the campus
covered an area of about two square feet, and was built around a large
quadrangle just large enough for her to stand in. (This was swarming
students when she approached, but she gave most of them time to get out
of her way.) She knew that the quantum accelerator was housed under the
physics building at the north end of the courtyard. That was where Steve
would be. Putting her hands on her knees, she looked down at the
matchbox-building.
"Steven Morgan!", she said sternly, "I hope you've got a very good
explanation!" She could now see several people moving about on top of
the building, but any one of them could have been Steve. She would have
needed a magnifying glass to have recognized her husband! As she was
wondering what to do next, she became aware of a faint buzzing, like
that of a tiny fly nearby. Catching sight of the offending insect she
made instinctively to swat it, but then halted as she suddenly realized
it was a helicopter. It flew right up to her face, and a voice hailed
her from a megaphone.
"Tricia, darling!" it said, "Are you alright?"
"Is that you, Steve?" Tricia asked in astonishment and delight.
Somehow hearing her husband's voice calmed her anger, and the Tricia
Morton Huff came to an end.
"It's me, Tricia, yes!" he replied, "Are you alright!"
Tricia couldn't help smiling at this question.
"If you call being a mile-high giantess who has to stomp on
thousands of people to get about "alright", then I suppose I am!" she
retorted, "Now please, please, PLEASE get me back to my normal size!"
"I'm afraid this IS your normal size now, love." said Steve, "But
we HAVE worked out how to control your dimensions. We'll have you small
again in just a jiffy!"
Steve must have had a portable quantum accelerator with him,
because a blue phosphorescence suddenly shot out from the helicopter to
envelop his gigantic wife. In a blink of an eye, Tricia found that she
was no longer a huge giantess. She was just an ordinary-sized girl,
standing amongst the wreckage of the university quadrangle.

Suddenly Tricia heard the sound of rotors behind her. Turning round
she saw the helicopter - now a huge and very noisy machine - alight
about fifty feet away, and out of it jumped Dr. Steven Morton. He ran
directly to her and gave her the nicest hug she had ever received in her
life.
"I'm afraid I've been a bit of a silly girl, darling!" she said
"All those people ....."
"It was no one's fault, dearest." said Steve, "Nobody have guessed
there would be a size instability - but it's all over now. Let's go
home".

Chapter the Fifth:

Mrs. Tricia Morton strolled lazily down the high street, enjoying
the bright spring morning. In recent years she had come to enjoy being a
giantess very much. Right now she was her favourite size: at 300 foot
she was big enough to feel like a goddess, but not SO big that she
couldn't avoid treading on people. Not that she needed to do much
avoiding these days - the locals were so used to her that they
instinctively moved aside whenever they saw her coming. After all, they
HAD had six years experience of living with a giant lady around!
Of course, Tricia COULD still make herself a mile high (she only
did so far out in the country, where she was in no danger of squashing
anyone) and every evening, when she returned home to Steve and the boys,
she would shrink down to a petite 5'6". The ability to change her size
had mellowed her character immensely, and the dreaded "Tricia Morton
Huff" was now well and truly a thing of the past. Being so much bigger
than everyone else had forced Tricia to take herself a lot more
seriously, and her nervousness and her stupid mistakes had quickly
ceased. With nothing more to be cross about, Mrs. Morton had become a
gentle, serene goddess, helping her tiny friends when they needed it,
and just standing back and looking pretty when they didn't.
The citizens of Donchester had quickly forgiven her the destruction
she had wrought, and she was now the most popular and admired lady in
town. With her help the areas of the city she had destroyed were
quickly rebuilt, for without even exerting herself she could do the work
of ten thousand labourers! Of course, not even Giantess Tricia could
restore the people who'd been squashed, but she consoled herself with
the knowledge that the calamity could never be repeated: Having
perfected the technique which allowed his wife to control her size,
Steve had given up quantum molecular enhancement altogether and taken up
gardening instead. By order of the government all, material relating to
the Titan Project was destroyed, and the accelerator itself was sunk
into the deepest part of the Atlantic. The only remaining evidence of
its existence was Tricia herself.
"Hi, Mum!" called up a familiar voice from the street below. Tricia
looked down and smiled to see her two teenage sons waving up at her.
They were accompanied by pair of pretty young girls, whom Tricia knew to
be Jenny and Maxine.
"Mum!" called 14-year-old Jamie, "We're off to the leisure centre
for a swim. Could you give us a lift there please?"
With an indulgent smile, Tricia reached down her giant hand and the
foursome scrambled gratefully into her palm. The tiny passengers safely
aboard, she stood up, stepped right over the shoebox-sized Town Hall,
and wended her way towards the main leisure complex. Arriving in just a
few short steps, she set the children gently down in the forecourt.
"Thanks, Mrs. Morton!" called Jenny, "Hey, why don't you shrink
down and join us."
"Please do, Mrs. Morton!" called Maxine, "We'd love to have you
with us!"
Tricia smiled down at them, but shook her beautiful blonde head.
"It's kind of you, darling," she said, "But I think I'll stay big
for the moment. You four go off and enjoy yourselves." As she stepped
right over the centre and continued her walk, the children were not the
only ones to gaze up at her in admiration.
Try as they might, neither Tricia nor any of her little friends
could bring themselves to regret what had happened on that terrible day
six years before. A lot of people HAD died, it was true, but something
new and wonderful had also been born. Nowadays the little people of
Donchester only had to look up at the beautiful blonde giantess towering
over them to know that magic really WAS alive in the world, and that
even the wildest and most improbable dreams really could come true.

The End.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This story is set in a fictitious city, somewhere in the British
Midlands. I have generally adhered to U.K. nomenclature and spelling, so
for the benefit of U.S. readers a "Motorway" is (more or less) a
Freeway, a "Ladybird" is a Lady Bug.
If you have enjoyed this story, please feel free to make and
distribute as many copies of it as you like. If you have NOT enjoyed it,
please refrain from adapting it to your own tastes. Write your own story
instead.

(c) J.Westwood, 1997.