Part 9

For a few seconds that seemed to stretch strangely into eternity, no one said a word. No one even moved. Jessica and Bethany were still in their seats, their eyes wide, their hands clasped over their mouths in an overt display of silent wonder. Jessica had been the one to suggest that Emma was taller than Igor, but she had spoken in a bit of an offhand way, flippantly deciding to goad Igor with the possibility that he no longer held the primacy of height. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Jessica had truly felt that what she had suggested was true, but she hadn’t actually considered the possibility…not at the forefront of her consciousness, at least. That was why she was joining Bethany in silently gasping at the clear fact that Emma was now noticeably taller than Igor, the formerly “untouchable” 8’8” giant. 

Emma was studying the slight creases and wrinkles in Igor’s forehead, furrowing her brow slightly as she blinked blankly a couple times, struggling to take in the reality of what she was seeing. It worked in an odd way within her brain. First, as she stood up and extended her legs to their full length, it struck her as odd that Igor’s broad shoulders seemed so far down below her — they were almost even with the top of her breasts. She glanced back up at Igor’s forehead, against feeling a weird sense of surreality as she cocked her head slightly, chewing a bit on the inside of her cheeks as she studied the novelty in front of her. She was looking…straight ahead…at his forehead. And his forehead was…higher than his eyes…which could only mean, if she thought through it for a second or two, that her eyes…were higher than his eyes. Which meant…that she was in fact, taller than he was.

The line of reasoning that Emma had progressed through in her head was so oddly elementary, so basic, that once she realized the essential truth — the fact that she was now taller than Igor, and by a good bit — she blinked again, and her eyes seemed refreshed and clarified with her new knowledge. She smiled, a bit bashfully, and gave a little laugh, which was aimed more at her slowness in grasping the truth than anything else. But it was also a laugh that was tinged with something else: an “old school” type of gentle mockery, as if to say, ‘Haha, I’m taller than youuuu!’ in the same way that a young girl might tease a young boy on the playground.

Igor was looking up at Emma, his own brow heavily creased, but in an entirely different way. He looked genuinely alarmed and afraid, not of Emma’s pure physical presence per se, but rather because of the fact that, in the past few days, she had grown an absolutely unprecedented amount. He had just started getting close with Emma, and had come to think of her fondly as a “little sister” figure of sorts, who was struggling through her own height disorder, but who remained beneath him, in the very literal sense. But now, all of that was totally out the window, and he found himself staring into Emma’s bashfully grinning mouth. He felt all the shock, surprise, and alarm that an older brother might feel when his younger sister came back from summer camp taller than him…except that for Igor, this had all happened in a matter of days.

Bethany was the first to speak. 

“Oh…my…god,” she intoned through her hands. “She totally is taller than you!”

“B-But…but how?!” asked Igor in a voice that didn’t sound to him like his own. He was still busy studying Emma’s mouth, with his eyes darting around to her full cheeks, her playfully smiling eyes, and the top of her head, which seemed farther above his eyes than what was actually real. 

Emma looked up and down Igor’s body in wonder. His feet still looked huge…his hands were totally enormous…nothing about him had really changed. That was the truly strange thing to Emma right now — everything about her giant friend looked exactly the same, except for the fact that she was now taller than he was. She glanced down at her own hands, her mouth slightly open in a neutral expression of intrigue and inquiry. Her hands looked the same too. Surely they were still smaller than his! She looked back up at Igor’s face and saw how unsettled and…scared he looked. In that moment, a contrasting duo of emotions rifled through her. First, and perhaps most powerfully, she felt a quick tang of challenging, potent aggression towards him, verging on anger. So she had grown taller than him — so what!? She was still the same person, after all! Why did he insist on acting like Martha and Dr. Kline and all the other doctors who she had recently been catching looking at her, and whispering about her to each other in corners? It was part of the old story that Emma was really getting sick of: the contrast between the perfectly fine way that she felt, and the concern of all the other people around her who professed to care about her. What was their problem? So she was growing…so she was still growing…so what? Didn’t they care about how she felt!? Or were they really all that intent on trying to freak her out as much as possible?

Deep down, Emma was feeling this way because she had successfully repressed her own fears and anxieties about her disorder a while ago, way back weeks before, when she had been living in the house with Daniel, before he had gone on that business trip for a week, before they had fought. She had been the one to freak out, many times, in the earlier stages of her growth, but she had gradually managed to reach a point where she had more or less come to terms with the unassailable fact that she was getting taller and bigger, that no one seemed to know why, and that it seemed like there wasn’t really a firmly-defined end in sight. 

For better or worse, exempting little moments like her first weigh-in with Monica the week before, Emma had learned to accept her condition for what it was, and to just take it all on the chin, so to speak. It would have been an entirely different matter if her disorder made her feel sick, or tired, or otherwise negative in any way. But despite occasional muscle cramps and growing pains, Emma was now feeling fresher, more energetic, and more alive than she had ever felt in her life. She didn’t know if it was because of the physical aspects of the growth, or the psychological, or some combination of the two. All she knew was that, when she encountered concerned and alarmed expressions like the one Igor was giving her right now, they made her feel, first and foremost, irritated. 

There was also the slightly, very gentle smugness that came along with the mere fact of a girl being taller than a guy. Emma couldn’t really help her eyebrows going up a little as she locked eyes with Igor for the first time as a taller person, and in the same way, she couldn’t quite help letting out another slight exhale of amused laughter. Once again, it was almost an elementary response: that “tallest girl” in the class was laughing at the fact that she had exceeded the “tallest boy.”

“I…I have no idea,” said Jessica out loud, her voice cautious. “You feeling alright, Emma?” 

“I…uh, yeah!” said Emma, breaking eye contact with Igor and looking to the side and down at Jessica. “Yeah, I feel…the same.” 

“Well you…you grew like four inches…or more…in a single day,” said Igor haltingly, as if he still couldn’t really believe it.

Again, that same strange mixture of irritation and buoyancy flashed through Emma and she turned back to Igor. 

“You sure about that?” she asked, with a lightness to her voice that nonetheless carried something of a sharpened point. “Maybe you just shrunk!” 

Bethany and Jessica both chuckled nervously at Emma’s little suggestion, but Igor was clearly not in any kind of laughing mood. 

“I…didn’t shrink, Emma,” he said seriously. “Trust me, if something like that happened, I’d know. I’m experienced enough with this whole size thing to know that.” 

“Well excuuuuse me, I guess I have a lot to learn!” chided Emma, looking down to Bethany and Jessica for a little badgering support. “Because apparently, I grew four inches overnight and couldn’t even tell!” 

“Y-yeah, Emma…you did,” said Igor quietly. “This isn’t really a laughing matter, Emma. Something serious is going on with you.” 

“I…uhh, I mean, I guess so,” said Emma, dropping her teasing and trying to meet Igor someway in the middle. She could feel an onrush of something like panic suddenly and rapidly approaching her, and she started taking deep breaths. 

“But I feel fine, is the thing,” she said, looking slightly down at Igor hopefully, as if that would somehow convince him to lighten up a bit. 

“Well, uhh, that’s good,” he said. “But still, Emma. I think you really do need to go see Dr. Kline today and tell him about all this. I don't know what it means, but it could be really…uh, serious.” 

Igor saw that Emma had dropped her playful act and was now looking at him with a slightly ashen expression, her mouth open a little, as her eyes searched his. He felt his heart throb a little, and he suddenly felt very sorry for her, and very protective and empathetic towards her. She really was very pretty, and very sweet, and very…innocent. And even though she was an adult, and acted like an adult, there was something in her that Igor had detected, something almost childlike — and pure — that made her different from anyone else he had ever met, at the Institute or otherwise. She hadn’t asked for this; she hadn’t asked for this condition, or any of the heartache (or heartbreak) that came with it. Igor thought of her boyfriend, and feared that her relationship was now in serious jeopardy. But most of all, he was starting to worry that Emma’s condition had well and truly “grown” out of control, potentially pushing her to new and dangerous territory, for others, but most importantly, herself. 

Emma saw the concern in Igor’s eyes, and for a moment, it only served to fuel her impending panic. But she took a few more deep breaths, reminding herself that she felt totally fine, even invigorated, and that it was only natural that someone like Igor, who was so used to being bigger and taller than everyone (especially the women) should react like this when someone finally outgrew him. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and Emma had to admit, it was kind of crazy, and a little funny, that the person to outgrow him was her. 

“Look,” she said earnestly, blinking and taking Igor’s hands in her own, like she had done a couple nights previously. “I appreciate the concern…I really do! But…uh, i’m not gonna…umm…gonna worry too much, ok? I’m going to see Dr. Kline anyway today, so…so yeah, that’s taken care of…uh…of…already.”

Emma had been a little distracted in her speech, because she was realizing, holding Igor’s hands in her own, how…ordinary they felt. Just a few days before, she had been marveling at how big his hands were. But now, well…there didn’t seem to be anything that extraordinary about them anymore. Suddenly, on a whim, Emma released her hands from Igor’s and held up her palm.

“Hey!” she said brightly, trying to lighten the mood a little, “Let’s compare hands! I wanna see if mine are bigger!” 

Wordlessly, and frowning slightly, Igor looked up at her and then to her offered, upright palm. Mechanically, he brought his huge hand up towards hers and carefully lined it up, going forward until their palms and fingers met. After a second or two of jostling and arranging, the comparison was set. Jessica and Bethany had both stood up to get a good look, and only now did Emma realize how small the two of them actually looked compared to her. In fact, the difference between them was so dramatically vast that, for a moment, Emma became completely distracted from her hand comparison with Igor. The top of Jessica’s head only barely managed to reach Emma’s nipples…and Jessica was 7 feet tall. The huge curve of Emma’s mighty hips was even with Jessica’s breasts; Emma glanced down, feeling surreal, and saw that her knees were even with Jessica’s upper thighs. It just…didn’t seem real. Bethany, who was no slouch herself at 6’8, found herself staring straight into the top of Emma’s stomach. Her head didn’t even reach Emma’s nipples, and instead lightly brushed the underside of Emma’s breasts. 

Emma’s eyes flickered strangely from Jessica to Bethany, and back and forth a few times, like she was trying to make sure that she wasn’t seeing things. The two smaller women had known that Emma was big, but nothing had prepared them for the shock of this incredible, unbelievable comparison. Their mouths were hanging slightly open, totally unconsciously, and their eyes were staring far up at Emma’s face, as if they were having trouble convincing themselves that Emma was real. For several moments, they all just stared at each other. 

But then, Emma remembered the hand comparison and snapped her focus back to Igor; she readjusted her hand again, even using her other free hand to make sure that Igor’s wrist was just about even with her own. In doing so, she noticed with a start that her wrist looked a little wider…and a little thicker…than his. How could this be possible!? Igor was the giant one! Now their hands were even, and the result was plain to see: Emma’s fingers were all noticeably longer, and a little larger in general, than Igor’s. She had him…maybe by as much as a third of an inch. And it wasn’t just her fingers — Emma’s palm extended outward from Igor’s on both sides, showing that it too was larger and more substantial. 

Emma felt something like a little knot growing in her throat. There was no way this was real…Igor…and his huge hands…now shorter than her…smaller than her!?! But there was no arguing with the evidence before her. Emma gathered herself together and swallowed the lump in her throat, and she felt better afterward. It was like she had stopped some impending feelings of negativity in their tracks; she didn’t even bother to dwell on what they might have been. Instead, she adopted an attitude of relaxed, offhanded acceptance. How else was she supposed to feel? Her growth disorder had clearly started kicking into high gear, and everything that she had thought about the Institute’s mission to cure her was now out the window. She would have to deal with Dr. Kline…with Martha…with all the other doctors and nurses, and their stunned, uncomfortable reactions, no doubt. Normally, such a thought would have made Emma feel irritated, but right now, she felt almost flippant. A strange giddiness existed where her anxiety once dwelt, and she found herself amusedly wondering how tiny Martha would look to her when she went in for her daily measurements. 

All of this happened in a flash through Emma’s brain, taking up no more than a second in real time. Her eyes flipped back, slightly down, to Igor’s. He was staring at the hand comparison, his brow creased, like he was not understanding what he was seeing. Emma quickly realized that this probably was the first time that someone had been clearly bigger than him…possibly ever. She suddenly felt an urge to tease him. 

“Well…” she said, arching her eyebrow at him as her mouth curved into a grin. “How does it feel?”

“How…does it feel?” asked Igor, not seeming to understand. 

“Yeah!” laughed Emma. “How does it feel to be smaller than someone for once? Smaller hands…smaller arms…smaller legs…smaller everything!”

“I…I can’t….uh…I don’t…don’t know,” sputtered Igor, taking his hand away from Emma’s slowly as his eyes fixed on her huge palm, trying to make sense of it all. 

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not even close,” said Emma, standing up straight and putting her shoulders back, so that she stood at her full height. “I’m like…at least a few inches taller than you now.” 

“Emma,” said Igor, his words labored, “I really think you need to go see Dr. Kline…right now.”

“Oh I’m seeing him later on today — what’s the rush?” she asked, waving her hand nonchalantly. 

“You’ve grown…an unprecedented amount…in a crazy-tiny window of time,” he replied, peering slightly up at her anxiously. 

“Yeah I guess I have, haven’t I?” said Emma, nodding to herself. “And you know what? It’s made me freaking hungry!” 

Jessica and Bethany laughed a little at Emma’s lighthearted disposition; but even still, they did so with more than a touch of nervousness and uncertainty. They were still stunned by the raw power of Emma’s sheer physical presence. 

“Hungry?” asked Igor, straining to understand. 

“Yes! Food! I want to eat…right now!” said Emma, opening her mouth and pointing inside. She didn’t quite know why she was acting so silly, but it felt right in the moment, and it was certainly making her feel like she was blunting Igor’s seriousness a bit. 

“I r-really think — ” Igor began, but Emma cut him off, putting her hand up close to his face in a playful “stop” motion. Igor found himself frozen; he still couldn’t believe how big her hands were. 

“Nope!” interrupted Emma, “I’ve made up my mind. Can’t do anything productive if my stomach’s growling. And judging by the size of me now, it would probably sound like a tiger or something, haha! Alright you guys, catch you later!” 

And with that, Emma was off, waving goodbye to her astonished friends as she walked away. She knew why Igor was acting that way: because he cared about her. Still though, that didn’t mean that she had to stand there and put up with the crushing, full weight of his concern. It reminded her of how Daniel had behaved the last couple of weeks before she went to the Institute. She suddenly had a throb in her breast, almost painful…she missed him so much. But almost as soon as the throb came, it was gone again. Yes, she missed him, of course. But it was nice, at least for the time being, to have a little time to herself, when she didn’t have to be suffocated by the anxieties of her loved ones. 

A little while later, Emma was finishing up her lunch in the cafeteria. “Finishing” was a relative term, since Emma didn’t really feel full — she was confident that she could have gone on eating for another twenty minutes at the same slightly-feverish pace she had been going at. Stacks of plates had been slowly building around her, as she kept going back to the food line for more. Cafeteria policy held that patients needed to use a new plate each time they got more food, and so Emma had ended up building herself a stack that was beginning to resemble the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Four, five…ten plates later, and she was still going. She knew that everyone was watching her; she had been attuned to their eyes ever since she came into the cafeteria. Conversations had stopped…people had turned around, whispering with hushed voices at the newly-burgeoned giantess in their midst. 

For a little bit, Emma had actually enjoyed the attention. She had been expecting it, given the reactions of Igor, Jessica, and Bethany, and when everyone had turned in lockstep, they were fulfilling her anticipation. It was almost hilarious how perfectly they had all fallen into the modes of behavior she had predicted, and Emma couldn’t help chuckling to herself a little as she went over to grab a tray. Even though it was certainly amusing how shocked and serious everyone seemed, her main concern remained the satiation of her hunger…with each passing moment, the pit seemed to deepen in her stomach, groaning out to be filled. 

And now, 45 minutes later, it still wasn’t full. But Emma had just looked up at the clock, realizing that she only had five minutes to get to the exam room for her daily measurements with Martha. She looked intently at the stack of plates she had accumulated, and the countless husks, cores, stems, seeds, and other food refuse that had become scattered across her tray. 

‘Good lord,’ she thought to herself, blinking her eyes at the scene in disbelief, ‘I seriously ate all that? Oh my god, I’m like a freaking animal!’

She made wide eyes to herself and shook her head slightly, chuckling a bit at the ridiculousness of what she was looking at. How many plates were there? Ten? Twelve!? Plus a whole felled thicket of forks, despite the fact that, halfway through her meal, Emma had largely abandoned the use of utensils, choosing to simply use her hands instead. It didn’t really seem to make sense for her to use the forks anyway — even though they were purposefully designed to be larger than average (to accommodate the large patients), Emma had found them almost pointless. To her, they seemed like slightly-larger-than-average, pronged toothpicks. After a little while, she felt silly even trying to use them and had instead decided to just put the food in her mouth herself. As she ate, she had a strange feeling that something was off, although her desire to feel satisfied distracted her from actually giving it too much thought. 

If Emma had paused enough in her eating, however, it wouldn’t have taken her long to realize why everything seemed a little weird: the food was just…small. Strawberries seemed like big blueberries; the bananas seemed miniature; a full-sized plate of chicken and rice was puzzlingly gone in a few bites; a large glass of milk was strangely empty after one sip. The whole structure of plates, glasses, and utensils seemed a bit silly — what was the point of having them if Emma had to go back over and over and get more? Wasn’t it all a bit wasteful on the part of the Institute? Shouldn’t they have larger dishes and silverware!? This was the Institute for Growth Disorders, after all! Hadn’t they planned for this kind of thing? 

But Emma didn’t let all of this get to her — these thoughts came across to her more as casual musings rather than indignant complaints. But it was definitely interesting to her…how ill-equipped the cafeteria seemed to be in accommodating her. It was around this point that Emma noticed that no one had come to sit with her. Such a thing was generally unusual, as, by this time, she had become friendly with a good number of patients and was used to chatting with them during meal times. She looked around the cafeteria, noticing a few people who definitely knew her…catching their eye, Emma waved at them heartily…they timidly waved back and turned away. Emma frowned slightly; what was going on? They were all acting like they were afraid of her or something. 

She glanced back to her empty dishes. She had made a bit of a mess…and come to think of it, the time she had eaten, she hadn’t really been thinking about much of anything. She had…kind of blacked out a little. Perhaps she had been a little too ravenous for other people’s comfort? Had she been making noises while she ate? She wasn’t really sure…a flash of hot insecurity went through her face, reddening her cheeks a bit. But it was just a flash…gone in no more than five seconds. She didn’t have anything to apologize for — she had been starving! What was she supposed to do? Eat all daintily, one morsel at a time?! She didn’t have time for that — she had literally been stuffing her face for over half an hour, and she was still hungry! 

She stood up from her chair (which had made her ass sore, since the seat had awkwardly and uncomfortably been pressing into the middle of her ass cheeks) and stretched a little. She felt something brush against the tips of her fingers…an insect? No. She glanced up at the ceiling, and suddenly realized that it was much closer than she had remembered it being before. She stretched her hand up again curiously, and was surprised to find that she was actually able to brush the ceiling with her fingers. 

‘God damn,’ she thought. ‘How about that?’ 

She looked again at the clock — she only had a minute to get to the exam room. She hurriedly reached down and snatched up the twelve empty glasses on the table, one for each finger, and another two in her palms, and carried them over to the dirty-dish area. People were watching her like something crazy was happening. Emma had been amused at the attention before, but snow she couldn’t help but be annoyed, probably due to her running a little late. What were they all staring at? What was so interesting about her putting away dirty dishes!? The same thought kept on in her mind as she returned to the table, snatched up the stack-full of dishes with one hand, and carried it over in the same way. As she did so, she shot a nearby table a challenging look, as if to say ‘What’re you looking at?’ The table’s occupants all quickly looked down, almost deferentially…or was it…fearfully? Emma couldn’t be sure. But she didn't have time to dwell on it. After putting down her huge stack of plates, she walked quickly out of the cafeteria toward the exam room. She didn’t realize it, but as she left, she had nearly run over a middle-aged man who was just about to walk in through the same entrance. He had fallen over backwards in Emma’s wake, but she hadn’t even seen him…he was only 6’5, the top of his head even with the middle of Emma’s stomach. 

Martha was waiting for Emma in the exam room, and the 5’4 nurse was shocked when she saw her patient bending her head to come through the doorway. 

“Hi Martha!” said Emma genially, but then stopped herself, putting her hand over her mouth in surprise. Martha looked so incredibly tiny that Emma wasn’t able to stifle a little burst of a laugh through her fingers. The nurse’s head was almost exactly even with Emma’s hips — she looked like a 3-year old! Emma stood there, staring for a moment, with her mouth opened slightly in fascination behind her fingers…and then suddenly, stepping forward, Emma bent down and picked Martha up gently, placing two hands around her waist (which easily went all the way around) and lifting her up. The nurse’s face, already frozen in shock, started contorting in alarm. 

“E-Emma!” she said quickly, her voice infused with panic. “Wh-what…what are y-you doing!?” 

Emma didn’t answer at first. She just held Martha up at eye-level for a moment, rolling her eyes curiously over Martha’s comparatively-miniature body. It was all so surreal — Emma knew that Martha was a full-grown adult, and that she wasn’t even that short for a normal person. But in this moment, those thoughts were so far away that it was like they didn’t even exist. To Emma, Martha had become like a little child, all dressed up like an adult. 

“Emma!” cried Martha, starting to squirm.

“Oh…oh, sorry,” said Emma absently, blinking her eyes as she put Martha back down on her two feet. “I just…uh…just wanted to see if I could, you know?” 

“I…um, ok,” said Martha, clearly frazzled from the incident. “Why don’t…uh…let’s just get your measurements, ok?”

It was quickly discovered that Emma was now 9 feet-plus a half-inch tall, and weighed 477.3 pounds. The numbers all sounded like gibberish to Emma, who was too preoccupied with the novelty of Martha’s tininess to really notice or care how much she had grown. 

“And you said you’re…f-feeling ok?” asked Martha, clutching her clipboard to her chest like it was some kind of shield as she looked up at Emma, who was sitting a bit awkwardly on the exam room table. 

“Huh?” asked Emma, who had been distracted by Martha’s tiny feet moving around on the floor. “Oh! Uh, yeah! Yeah, I feel totally fine. I mean…I guess…maybe a little sore or something? But I did go on that long walk with Igor yesterday, so maybe that’s why.” 

“Is it just your legs and feet that are sore?” inquired Martha cautiously. 

Emma took several seconds to answer; part of her felt like this all couldn’t be real. Martha’s clipboard looked like a doll’s toy. Her fingers were so tiny Emma almost couldn’t see them. It was like some kind of joke. And at the same time, Emma knew all of this was real. in her current frame of mind, though, it was hard to take anything too seriously. 

“My…legs?” asked Emma uncertainly, looking back at Martha’s face indistinctly. The nurse must have been able to detect the casualness in Emma’s demeanor, because her next words were tinged with irritation, brought on by stress. The nurse had intended to convey to Emma the seriousness of the situation, but her words came out sounding more annoyed than she meant them to. 

“Yes, Emma. Your legs and feet. I’m asking you if they’re the only things that feel sore. I need you to focus here, please.”

Emma fixed her eyes on the nurse, blinking away the flippant film that she had been staring through. Now Martha was just getting on her nerves. 

“Hey, I’m just trying to take it easy and be relaxed here, Martha,” she said. “You don’t need to grill me.”

“O-ok…ok!” said Martha, dropping her clipboard on the floor and putting up her hands in a motion of surrender. “Sorry! I’m not trying to make you angry!” Emma hadn’t realized it, but at her size, conveying something as tame as annoyance was frightening. 

Emma kept looking at Martha, not understanding why she was behaving so dramatically. 

“No,” said Emma, her eyes fixed on Martha. “My whole body’s actually kind of sore. Does that answer your question?” 

“Y-yes! Yes, it does,” said Martha, bending down to fetch her clipboard, dropping it again, and reaching to pick it up once more. Emma suddenly saw that the nurse was shaking. She felt a wave of guilt that nearly made her sick, but then, almost immediately replacing it was a streak of intensified irritation. She didn’t have to put up with all this nonsense. 

“So is that all?” asked Emma, making no secret of her desire to leave. 

“That’s…um, yes. Yes, I think that’s all, Emma,” said Martha in a shaky voice. 

Emma stood up and looked down for a moment at the tiny nurse beneath her. A sick wave of guilt passed over her again, and she suddenly felt very sorry for Martha. Not wanting to entertain the implications of her own complicated emotions, Emma strode towards the doorway, getting there in two steps. She didn’t want to leave Martha on that uncertain, negative-tinged note, so she turned around and tried to smile. 

“Hey!” she said, affecting a light, playful tone as she pointed to the doorframe. “Looks like I’ve gotten a little too big for the “Octa” exam-room door, huh?”

“Hehe…uh…y-yeah…yeah I guess you have,” said Martha, forcing a chuckle out of her body. 

“Well, guess we need to have the next exam in a…what would you call it…a 9-foot room?

“Ennea,” said Martha in a strange voice.

“Ennea? Is that what it is? I like the sound of that!” said Emma pleasantly. 

“But…we don’t have any of those rooms, Emma,” said Martha, in the same strange tone. “Octa’s as high as we go here.” 

Later on that day, Emma met with Dr. Kline — she went in feeling almost bouncy…breezy…in light spirits, despite the slight rancidity at the tail-end of her exchange with Martha. Emma’s mind seemed to be constantly finding new things to locate and fixate upon: the tiny little doorways, the miniature cars of the staff in the Institute parking lots, the effortless speed with which she was now able to walk, compared to the smaller strides of everyone else. It was enough to distract her, and make her forget. However, in contrast to her mood when she went into the doctor’s office, she came out feeling a glum, depressed, and annoyed. 

She felt like an old cycle was repeating itself; Dr. Kline had told her, in no uncertain terms, how serious this new and unexpected growth acceleration was. Emma had tried to bring him back down a little, and make him understand that she was feeling fine, but he didn’t seem to hear her concerns properly. He just kept repeating phrases like “rogue case” and “concerning developments” and “not taking this lightly,” and after a while, Emma had just had enough. She hadn’t quite “stormed” out of the office, but she had definitely left before Dr. Kline had wanted her to. But she couldn’t take it anymore — all the long-faced, somber, weighty words…the fateful tone…she just didn’t want to hear it anymore. If they didn’t know what was wrong with her, what good were they, anyway!? Good for nothing other than trying to freak her out, apparently. 

So she had left Dr. Kline’s office and gone to the gazebo in the courtyard garden, her favorite place to lose herself in her own thoughts. She was happy to see that Igor was already there, but it didn’t take long for her to remember that he, too, was not dealing with her condition too well. He greeted her anxiously, asking how the exam and visit with Dr. Kline had gone.

“Oh I don’t know,” sighed Emma, sinking down onto one of the benches that groaned underneath her. “Everyone seems totally freaked out by me all of a sudden. It kind of sucks.”

“Well, I mean…I understand Emma,” said Igor kindly, reaching down and holding her hand. It still felt so weird to him, to be holding a hand that was bigger than his own…particularly a younger woman’s hand…but he held on all the same.

“It’s just that…well, you know,” he continued, trying to catch her eye as she looked off a little sadly into the garden, “the way you’ve really…uh…sprouted up. It’s kind of unprecedented. Even here.”

“Really?” Emma asked quietly, still looking off into the garden. “This hasn’t ever happened before?”

“Not that I know of,” said Igor. A few seconds passed by, and as they accumulated, Igor felt the impending need to comfort her. 

“But,” he said, squeezing her hand and putting in the effort to smile genuinely, “But the important thing is that you’re still feeling good. I mean, even though you’re going through a little spurt now, you’re feeling ok, right?”

“I guess,” murmured Emma wistfully. A few more silent moments came and went, with the two giants sitting next to each other, hand and hand. Igor was starting to feel like his reassurances were doing the trick. 

“Actually,” said Emma suddenly, “I am feeling a little…I don’t know what it is…sorer? Than usual.” 

“Sorer?” asked Igor. “You mean, like, in your muscles?”

“Mmhm, all over,” nodded Emma, wincing slightly. “Almost like it’s in my bones too.” 

“Interesting,” said Igor. “You told Dr. Kline about it?”

“Ha! Yeah,” said Emma, laughing a little ruefully. “He was very serious about everything. Kind of annoyed me, really. It was like he was trying to scare me or something.”

“Well Emma,” said Igor, trying very hard not to sound condescending, “He is the head doctor here. I think his opinion matters.”

“Well if he’s such an expert,” countered Emma, turning and looking Igor straight in the face, “Then how come he has no clue what’s going on with me?” 

“I…uh, don’t really have an answer to that,” said Igor, looking down in Emma’s lap, away from her challenging stare. She was a little intimidating, even though she didn’t realize it. 

And then…he saw it…and felt it…happen. His eyes had been resting on Emma’s hand, which he was holding in his own, when suddenly, he saw it grow. Her hand…and her wrist and arm attached to it, visibly lengthened and swelled in size. It couldn’t have lasted for more than a couple seconds, but to Igor, the time seemed to stretch on for far longer. His eyes went wide as he felt Emma’s hand expanding around his. He saw her fingers grow longer and thicker, and along with her widened, heavier palm, felt even huger in his grasp. 

In alarm, Igor pulled his hand away from hers — it was more a “fight-or-flight” response than anything else…but it was the only thing that his body was capable of in the moment. Emma, who had returned to staring melancholically at the garden, turned her head towards him inquiringly. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“E-Emma…Emma, are y-you…are you feeling ok?” asked Igor shakily. 

“Yeah, why?” she responded. “I mean…definitely still sore. Got a bit of a flash of it there. But I’m fine. What’s going on, Igor? Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“I…I just saw you grow,” he breathed, his heart hammering away in his chest. 

Emma narrowed her eyes at him. A few moments of silence passed before she spoke. 

“What?”

“I j-just…like, literally saw you grow, Emma.” 

She kept her eyes on him, seeming to search for something. 

“Igor, come on,” she said a couple seconds later. “You didn’t just see me gr—”

“I know what I saw Emma,” interrupted Igor, looking up at her. There was no doubt; she was sitting higher than she had been, covering more area on the bench; even her white Institute gown had started to adhere to her form. She had grown everywhere.

“And I felt it too,” he continued earnestly. “I felt your hand grow…your fingers got longer…got bigger! Look at you, Emma! I can just tell — you’ve grown everywhere!” 

Emma was looking at him with her mouth pursed shut, her brow starting to furrow. She didn’t believe him. He had to somehow prove it to her. He showed her his palm.

“Here, Emma — j-just…just let’s compare, ok? Just for reference? We did it this morning; if you didn’t just grow now, it’ll be the same.”

Emma hesitated, and then put her hand up to his. Igor’s fingers didn’t even reach her first knuckle now — there was no question. 

“See!?” he cried. 

Emma stood up suddenly. She didn’t know what was happening; she didn’t know what to think. She just needed to get away from Igor’s panicking energy. She had had it. Igor stood up with her, hoping to stave off her flight. He was shocked to see that he was looking straight into her shoulders. 

“I don’t need this,” muttered Emma. “I don’t need this right now…at all.” 

She fled the gazebo, nearly knocking her head on the underlay as she left. Igor called out to her to wait, to stop, but she didn’t hold back. She needed to find somewhere peaceful, where she could relax and just…be alone. Her dorm room seemed to be the only option…but when she reached it, she found a group of doctors and nurses waiting for her there, Dr. Kline and Martha among them. There were 6 or 7 in all. Emma stopped dead, her only hope for refuge totally dissipated. Dr. Kline’s head was right at her navel; the other doctors looked even smaller. What the fuck were these little people thinking, getting in between her and her bed?! 

“What’s this!?” she asked, a little out of breath, making no secret of her displeasure. Although she didn’t realize it, her voice had become deeper, more substantial, and louder. The doctors drew back a little.

“E-Emma,” said Martha, stepping forward. “W-we…we’re all concerned about you and…and I think we need to admit y-you to…to our intensive care unit overnight for…for some more tests.”

“More tests?” asked Emma, feeling her blood start to boil as she stood up to her full height. She felt her Institute gown beginning to stretch on her body. Who was this tiny nurse to tell her what to do!? She didn’t even come up to her belly button! Emma suddenly had a flash of a thought: ‘No one under my breasts can tell me what to do,’ but it was quickly lost, because Dr. Kline was stepping forward to back Martha up.

“It’s for your own good, Emma,” he said, affecting a brave voice as he came up to her cautiously. As he did so, the other doctors and nurses slowly followed, beginning to form a half-circle around Emma, trapping her against the hallway wall. Emma saw that Dr. Kline was holding a syringe in his hand. 

“I know it’s been stressful for you, Emma,” he said as soothingly as he could, “So I’m just gonna give you a little something here to help calm you down…to make you feel better…so we can get you in and run those tests.” 

He started to aim the syringe at her lower stomach, the other doctors and nurses tensely poised. And right then, Emma snapped. She angrily slapped the syringe out of Dr. Kline’s hand, sending it shattering into the opposite wall. Dr. Kline cried out and jumped back, and the other staff did the same, their eyes full of fear. 

“No more tests!” Emma bellowed, stomping her foot. “I don’t want any more tests or examinations or measurements or ANY of it!!”

“E-easy Emma!” called Dr. Kline, his voice trembling. 

“Emma, Emma, it’s all right!” called Martha. 

“No it’s NOT alright!!” yelled Emma, stamping her foot again, cracking the marble floor underneath her. “I’m surrounded by all you…you tiny little people who are just SOOO worried about THIS and THAT…and all you wanna do is run more TESTS!! You have NO IDEA what’s wrong with me, do you!?!”

Everyone was breathing hard as they stared up at Emma, having no clue how to handle her. 

“DO YOU!?” she screamed, stomping again and further cracking the floor. Her fists were balled up and shaking. One of the nurses fled down the hall; the others didn’t look too far behind her. 

“NO, Emma, you’re right!!” yelled Dr. Kline. “You’re RIGHT…we…we don’t know yet!” 

Emma stood there, panting with rage, glowering down at them. 

“Which is why,” continued Dr. Kline, “We need to admit you to the intensive care unit for the — ”

“I’M NOT GOING!!” shouted Emma, stamping her feet and shaking her head wildly, so that her hair flew all around her face. With a shot to her brain, she suddenly knew what she wanted. 

“I WANT Daniel!!” she screamed. “I WANT MY BOYFRIEND!!! I WANT TO SEE HIM!!”

There was no reply, as everyone else was petrified with fear. Emma took a single step towards them, and they yelled out as their backs hit the wall. None of them had ever been so terrified in their entire lives. 

“DID YOU HEAR ME!?” she bawled, tears starting to gush out of her eyes. “I…WANT…Daniel!!!” 

“OK, Emma, OK!!!” yelled Dr Kline. “We’ll get him!! We’ll call him right now!! Ok!?” 

Emma stood there, hunched aggressively over the staff, breathing hard, her face flushed, and her eyes full with tears. 

“O….ok,” she said. Her rage quelled, and looked down at Martha…at Dr. Kline…at how terrified and tiny they all looked. It was all a little too much. Her face contorted and she burst into tears, backing into the opposite wall and collapsing into a sitting position. After a few moments, Martha cautiously came over and comforted her, easily dabbing her eyes from a standing position. 

Later that night, Daniel drove up to the Institute. Needless to say, he had been worried sick by Dr. Kline’s phone call and had gotten there as quickly as he could. His heart stopped when he pulled up to the entrance: Emma was standing there, in her white medical gown, her hands clasped eagerly in front of her, waiting for him. There was no question it was her — she was so beautiful, so innocent-looking, but…HUGE. 

His heart fluttering with surreal energy, he stepped out of the car and jogged up to her. Emma shouted out and ran towards him, and as she did so, Daniel could feel the ground shaking a little beneath his feet. She grew huger and huger with each passing moment, until they were right in front of each other. Daniel only had a moment to register that he was staring straight into her lower-stomach area, right where her belly button would have been, before he felt his organs drop in his body as two huge, powerful hands hooked down under his arms and lifted him up. Before he knew it, more than half of his face, from his upper nose to his chin, was engulfed in a wet, warm, syrupy kiss, mixed with the slight saltiness of Emma's tears. 

“Daniel!!!” she sobbed, squeezing the air out of him. “Let me out of here — get me out!! I wanna go HOME!”