Brenda's Back

With the inheritance she'd received, Brenda could have retired, spending the rest of her life traveling the world. She could have flipped real-estate like it was going out of style. She could have even bought the real estate company where she worked as a low-level administrative assistant. Though she considered all of those options, she had something else in mind.

Height-augmentation was as dangerous and unpredictable as it was expensive, often taking a substantial physical and psychological toll on the recipient. Combined with the often minimal results—an inch or two, three or four at most—the few who could afford it would rather avoid the risk. Standing four-foot-eleven and sitting on the upper-end of eight figures in cash, there was no question in her mind how she would spend every last penny of her money.

Brenda's procedural therapist cautioned her of the social repercussions experienced by height augmentation recipients. Brenda understood this. In fact, she counted on it. Due to her short stature and slight frame, her co-workers spoke to her in a condescending tone typically reserved for children. Knowing none of them meant any harm made it bearable, but no less insulting. 

Following the procedure, Brenda awoke to find herself lying on a bed with attendants gathered around, her body aching with unimaginable pain. Her bones shrieked in protest at the slightest movement, migraines cascaded through her skull, and she needed the assistance of a respirator to breathe. She did notice, however, her feet looked much further away than she remembered. A nurse stepped forward.

"Miss Takeda. How are you—"

"How tall?" Brenda muttered.

The nurse paused. "You have to understand this procedure is unpredictable—"

"How tall am I?" Brenda demanded.

"Your height stabilized at 2.74 meters—slightly over nine feet tall." Hearing this, tears streamed down Brenda's face. The nurse placed a hand on Brenda's large shoulder assuring her the pain would subside in time. She did not realize Brenda wept tears of joy. 

Following her three-month recovery, Brenda arrived to work late, ensuring everyone would witness her public unveiling. As anticipated, her towering form commanded attention as she waded through the small office. Her enormous derriere swayed in symphonic motion, while her ample hips spanned the width of most doorways forcing others to wait and watch aghast as she squeezed through. The top of her head grazed against the tiles in the ceiling, and the floor creaked beneath her size twenty-three Converse All-Stars. 

"My God," a familiar voice said. Brenda stopped and looked down to see Craig, a handsome young intern, gazing up at her. She liked him but had formerly been too shy to express her feelings. But that was the old Brenda.

"Do you want to go fuck in the break room?" 

Craig nodded. "Absolutely."

Brenda swooped him up and kissed him with enough force Craig felt it in his teeth. Taking him under one arm, she turned to her co-workers who had gathered nearby.

"Guys, I'm going to take my break early, okay?"