Raising the Bar
Vanessa stepped in from the chilly spring evening. Kicking off her red patent leather high heels, her toes savored the cool, clean hardwood. Her date with Cheo had gone splendidly—he hung on her every word, his eyes riding her every curve. He paid for dinner and even offered to pay for the hotel, but she declined. He could afford to wait at least until date two. Her body was her prize, her temple, and her masterpiece, and he would need to earn it.
Of course, Vanessa didn't need Cheo to buy drinks or dinner. With all her wealth she had purchased a spacious vintage home in Northshore Heights. While she loved attention, she had no need for companionship, having had more partners—men and women—in the last year than she could name. She lived in a constant cycle: Focus. Succeed. Repeat.
When she had all the money and success she could want, Vanessa moved to something greater: power. Nothing as superficial as political influence or social status. She sought the power to mold the world to her liking. It hadn't been easy, but with a substantial investment of time, determination, and money, she eventually found that as well.
Her head floating from the expensive cocktails, Vanessa sauntered to her bedroom. In her chambers, she unzipped her dress, letting the silk fabric drop to the ground. In only her underwear, she took a moment to admire her figure in the mirror. Well proportioned and flawless, she poured into her embroidered lingerie. Popping up on her toe, she spun around, arched her back, and flashed her shapely bottom.
Vanessa, you are smokin'.
...but a tad short.
It wasn't a big deal, but it did bug her. Even in her tallest heels, she barely stood as high as Cheo's shoulders. Sure, Cheo was 6'3" and Vanessa stood a respectable 5'6", but that was barely above average. With a figure like hers and the power she wielded, she should be nowhere near average. She deserved better.
The insecurity simmering under her skin boiled to the surface. Her perspective shifted subtly, as the floor seemed to drop away below her. In seconds, she'd added several inches to her height. She'd never thought she could grow so much at once by her own volition. To her surprise, it was easy. Power trumps wealth.
Most of her new stature had accumulated in her legs, making her longer, more elegant than before. She'd gained a good pair of heels worth of height, putting her around five-eleven. Posing proudly, she extended a lengthy leg, before frowning as her eyes drifted upwards. Her chest had all but disappeared. As tall and beautiful as she had become, her elongated figure had lost its shape, approaching boyish. She'd neglected her curves.
Vanessa put her hands on her chest and concentrated. Her mounds swelled from slopes to hills. It's so easy, she thought, as her olive flesh overfilled her bra cups stretching the band snug around her torso. She inhaled, savoring the subtle creak of soft lace straining to contain her growing form. There was a shrill tearing sound as her stockings split apart. She'd only meant to enlarge her chest, but her hips and rear had grown as well. Her thick thighs ruined the cheap hosiery, tearing it completely asunder.
"That will do for now," Vanessa said, unable to suppress a grin. With her freshly grown assets filling her bra to capacity. The garment could barely contain her bounty.
...except she was no longer proportional. She'd ballooned her gentle curves to cartoonish proportions. Her hips flared outward from her trim waist. Her meaty buttocks threatened to swallow her panties like a thong. A gentle shimmy of her rear elicited a tempest of quivering flesh.
This will not do at all.
While suitable for a music video or a social media personality, her new shape defied practicality. It was attractive, but she intended to be beautiful. Taking a breath, she stretched her body upwards. Her absurd hips smoothed into more decent curves, extending from waist to knees. She silently thanked her realtor for selling her on fifteen-foot ceilings, which gave her room to grow.
Vanessa looked again in the mirror. While pleased with her more modest hips, she could no longer see her face. Surpassing Cheo's height thrilled her, but she was now far too thin. Her long fingers nearly encircled her entire forearm. She snorted with disgust. A tall woman was elegant, but a twiggy, gangly girl was a pushover.
Her frustration turned to resolve, which manifested as mass. With a series of dull creaks, her muscles engorged with size and power, and she laughed as an intoxicating strength swept over her. As she pushed her growth further, beads of sweat appeared on her skin, pooling and cascading between pulsing webs of veins. In one final push, every muscle tensed, then relaxed.
Vanessa opened her eyes and studied her her awe-inspiring physique. Cords of muscle rippled and undulated as she flexed her watermelon-thick thighs. She gracefully extended her arm and curled it inwards—her bicep ready to burst with vitality. She could make professional bodybuilders weep with jealousy.
...but is that what I want?
She loved drawing stares at the gym from thirsty men and jealous women, but she wanted to be the most desired, not the most envied. If being a weak pushover was bad, being an overgrown hulk was scarcely better. Overdeveloped muscles were no more practical than overdeveloped curves. The taut creases in her pronounced musculature softened into a slimmer, lithe form.
Yet the extra flesh came with extra inches, and her bra and panties grew ever more constricting. Hosiery was easily replaced, but there was no reason to shred perfectly good nightwear. She touched her fingers to the soft, satin lace, enlarging it to accommodate her new dimensions.
Again Vanessa miscalculated, and her bra and underwear now hung loosely around her. While she still knew she'd grown, Vanessa hated oversized clothing, It made her feel inadequate. Anger boiled within her. She surged larger with every breath until she filled out her clothes once again.
The sensations were astounding. Vanessa was taller, stronger, and more beautiful than she ever imagined she could be. Feeling a twinge of vertigo, she sat on her bed. The metal springs and slats creaked and groaned under her weight. As she laid down, her lengthy legs extended off the end of the bed. It only emboldened her. Even her queen-sized bed was too small for her.
Vanessa giddily leaped up from the bed and, with a single step, crossed to her antique armoire. Bending over, she fished out a tape measure from the top drawer, which was tiny between her huge fingers. She'd last used it when she was trying to lose weight; now, she excitedly measured how much she'd grown. Unrolling it to its full six feet, she scratched a line in the wall with her fingernail. Standing up straight, she gave a goofy smile as her mark barely reached her chin. She scratched a mark for seven feet, before whimsically adding ones for eight and nine.
Standing straight, Vanessa stood exactly seven feet. That mark pushed her beyond "tall lady." She would be a unique testament to physical perfection. She had never even heard of a seven-foot woman...except for one she'd seen on the news a few years ago. And then there were the guys. It's one thing to be among the tallest. It's another to be the tallest. Everyone would look up to her. Lovers would worship her.
Unconsciously surrendering to desire, her body re-commenced its transformation. This time her limbs, her curves, her clothing, her hair, her muscles, everything grew together. Reaching eight feet, she became the tallest living person, but what if she were the tallest person...ever? Her head shot upward as she continued growing until the seven-foot mark disappeared under the crest of her magnificent breasts.
Vanessa knew she'd passed her mark, but she couldn't stop—growing felt too good. It was no longer an ideal she craved. She was perfect already—she'd known that all along. Vanessa grew neither for any challenge nor any goal: growing was the end in itself. A flood of pleasure welled within her. Her fingers met the cold, dusty ceiling. The floor creaked ominously below her. The sheer pleasure of her final burst of growth brought her to her knees. Her accompanying scream rattled windows blocks away.
An exhausted Vanessa rested on the ground before slowly pulling herself upright. Her jaw dropped with awe at her towering perspective. She instinctively put a hand on the ceiling to steady herself. Her deep breaths reverberated along the bare walls in her now tiny room. Her bedroom seemed far away, her expensive furniture small and fragile as dollhouse accessories.
I've surpassed everything.
A horrifying thought sent a cold chill shot down her spine. Vanessa gaped at her grotesque immensity. I've grown too big, she thought, gasping for air as she fought a tide of anxiety. Clenching her chest, she took a deep breath, then another...and another.
Vanessa relaxed, and the world came back into focus. Seconds later, a rumbling chuckle escaped her lips. I'm not too big, she thought, her lips spreading into a grin.
...the world is just too small.