For as long as she could remember, everyone had called her Midge.  Her given name was Jennifer Ann, but no one called her Jennifer, Ann, Jennifer Ann, Jenny or Jen -- just Midge.

The reason was her height.  Midge knew that.  She was born small and stayed small, her growth far behind her peers.  When they hit puberty, they grew up and out.  She grew out, but not up.

Now a young adult in college, Midge was less than half the height of most of her classmates, standing only 31 inches tall.

What was curious was that, unlike most little people, her 2-foot, 7-inch frame was well-proportioned to the point of being stacked.  Were she twice her dimensions, she would stand only 5-foot-2 but would have a 39-inch bust, 17-inch waist and 27-inch hips.

College life was fun for Midge, but it was also a struggle.  The world and all its trappings were too big for her, and simply getting around could be a challenge.

Midge was so short that cars had to be specially adapted for her to drive, and some states would ban her driving because she weighed so little that there would be fears of auto airbags killing her.  She only went out in groups; she was too small to defend herself easily if a date got gropey.  And the only clothes she could get off the rack were made for babies or dolls.

“It’s too bad you’re not tall instead of small, Midge,” her roommate, Kendra, said to her one day.  “With your looks, you could be a model.,”

Midge smiled weakly.  “Yeah, well, I think I’m about as tall as I’m going to get,” she said.

That evening at suppertime, as Midge dragged a tray along an eye-level dorm-cafeteria line, Kendra shouted from behind her, “Hey, Midge!  You dropped this!”

“This” was an envelope that had been in the stack of mail Midge was carrying.  She hadn’t looked at it closely.  Now she did.  It was from a clinic in town.

Midge opened it and read.  “Dear Jennifer Ann Cudahy, We are privileged to be experimenting with a new treatment for growth-hormone deficiency.  We invite you to take part in our clinical trial.”

Just then her tray overbalanced and she dropped all her food.

Midge closed her eyes in frustration.  The big, heavy tray had been too much, and she had had enough.  She would go to the clinic.

It was the third Monday of September when Midge went to the clinic.  They ran a battery of tests on her, including x-rays.

“You’re a perfect candidate,” said the doctor, whose name was Lucy Jones.  “We’ll start you on these tablets.  Take one per day until you notice growth or any other symptoms.  Then call and we’ll decide what to do from there.”

What followed was more than a month of going to the clinic twice per week with no growth.  By then, Midge was getting discouraged.

It was the fourth Sunday of October with Halloween closing in when Midge realized something seemed different.  Her pants and sleeves seemed shorter.  Had she grown?

Not sure, and with time running out, Midge decided the best thing to do was get ready for church.  She would attend the 10 a.m. service.  She opted for a simple pink sheath dress that usually came up to the bottom of her knees.  Today it ended nearer the top.  It was very elastic, which would be a good thing if she had grown.  But Midge couldn’t tell is she had grown or the dress had shrunk, so she proceeded.  With a warmer than normal October, she also wore sandals.

It was during the prelude when Midge felt something strange happening.  The room seemed smaller.  So did the pew, and her dress was really tightening up.

When Midge stood for the opening hymn, she almost fell over.  Her feet hit the floor too soon, and her sandals were several sizes too small.  She had grown, and done it quite abruptly.

Midge had to walk home in her bare feet.  There was no way she could wear the tiny sandals.  She hadn’t grown any more since the prelude, but her sheath was now a minidress, and skin-tight, too.

When she got back to her dorm room, Midge measured herself on a growth chart she had set up.  Kendra was away for the weekend and couldn’t help.  To her shock, Midge realized she was 41 inches tall.  She had grown 10 inches since yesterday!

Midge switched into one of Kendra’s sweatshirts to use as a dress while she hung out in the room.  It was more comfortable than the super-tight sheath.  She tried calling the clinic, but it was apparently closed.

Midge had been ravenous all day.  By the time she made her supper, she had microwaved everything with meat in the room.

As Midge lifted a fork, it happened again.  Midge watched as the fork seemed to shrink in her hand.

Instinctively, Midge stood up.  The sweatshirt still covered her hips, but not with as much clearance.

She scrambled to the growth chart.  She was 54 inches tall -- 4-foot-6, close to normal height for a woman.  Her waist was indescribably tiny for her height.

Kendra got in just before 7:30 p.m.  She nearly fell over when she saw Midge and dropped into a chair when her roommate started growing before her eyes.

Once she recovered, Kendra quickly measured her roommate.  Midge’s build was no longer so top-heavy, but she was still strikingly built.

“One problem, Roomie,”  Kendra said.  “You’re gonna need a new nickname.  You’re 5-foot-4.”

The next morning, Jen reached over to turn off the alarm and missed.  She’d grown larger overnight.

Kendra looked up into her roommate’s eyes as she gauged the chart.  “You’re just under six feet tall,”  Kendra said.  “I think you can afford to skip today’s dose of your growth pills.”

Not surprisingly, Dr. Jones confirmed that Kendra’s recommendation was correct.  She was also concerned.  “The growth process should have been more gradual,” she said, “and I don’t know how much of the medication is built up in your system or tissues -- or, with the way you’re growing, if it’s somehow replicating itself.”  She took a few blood and tissue samples to try to determine what was going on.

Jen hadn’t grown anymore that day, but was ravenous for more meat and dairy products. --  more so as the day went on.  She got through the day on clothing she borrowed from Kendra, and she bought some new, oversized clothes, just in case.

The next morning, Jen reached past the clock again.  A quick measurement confirmed she was now 6-foot-3, although she was still model-thin.

Jen was overwhelmed by the attention she was now getting, especially from men.  They were practically falling all over themselves over her -- and she was now taller than most of them.

By now Jen was used to the ravenous craving for protein she felt as the day went on.  Still, with the growth surges coming further apart and getting smaller each time, she figured she’d probably be only two or three inches taller by morning.

In fact, Jen had grown four inches taller by Wednesday morning, but she had no cravings that day, so she thought perhaps she was done growing at 6-foot-7.  She was still model thin, and would be among the tallest models if she went that way.

When Jen woke up Thursday, she was no taller, but she was already craving protein.  At the dorm cafeteria, she had a breakfast of a six-egg omelet with cheese, bacon and sausage; a triple order each of sausage, ham and bacon; and a steak.  Lunch was two jars of peanut butter and a half-gallon of milk.

It was while she was walking between classes that the growth spurt Jen had been setting up hit.  She was growing so fast that she fell to the ground, feeling her clothes tighten and rip.

After the spurt had stopped and Jen found her strength, she stood up -- and up!  She was clearly well over seven feet tall, and had also grown in girth, especially around the hips and bustline.  She was still decent, but her washboard midriff was exposed and the clothes she wore were in tatters.

With some difficulty -- the cell phone buttons were so tiny now! -- Jen called the clinic.  Far too big to easily drive a conventional vehicle, one of the clinic’s staff came and picked her up in an SUV.  She stretched out as best she could across the back seat.

Dr. Jones examined Jen.  The doctor seemed so teeny now -- but then, so did everyone and everything.

“Well, you’re 7-foot-5 now,” Dr. Jones said.  “It appears your system is still incorporating, and perhaps replicating, the medication.  In other words, you’re still looking at more growth spurts.”

“You’re kidding,”  said Jen.

Dr. Jones winced.  “Your voice, like everything else about you, is getting quite big and powerful,” the doctor said.  “And no, I’m not kidding.”

Jen looked down at the diminutive examining table she sat on.  “Is anyone else growing like me?” she asked.

“Not that I can locate,” Dr, Jones said.  “It appears to be a genetic quirk or chemical imbalance of some kind, something we couldn’t foresee that’s unique to you.  The same effect that left you so well-proportioned when you were 2-foot-7 is mixing with the medicine and causing you to … well, grow like crazy now.”

“Great,” said the giantess.  She stood up, towering over the doctor.

Jen paused at the door.  The top of the doorway came to around her chin.  “I guess I’m ducking through doors for the rest of my life.”  As she did so, a chill went down her back as she thought, I hope I stay small enough to only duck through doors.

Back at the dorm, Jen tried to stretch out on her bed.  Her feet stretched beyond it.

“Cheer up, Jen,” said Kendra.

“Call me Midge,” Jen said.  “I’m used to it, and now it works as an ironic nickname.”

Kendra grinned.  “OK, Shorty,” she said.

Midge laughed.  She knew the tone in Kendra’s voice.  “What’s on your mind, Roomie?”

“There’s a Halloween party -- actually, a whole series of them -- tomorrow,” Kendra said.  “You’d be the belle of the ball, so to speak.”

Midge raised an eyebrow.  “No one’s going to have a costume my size.”

“So who needs a costume?” asked Kendra.  “I’ve got a white silk parachute.  Can you say, ‘toga?’  Who do you want to be?  Venus?  Juno?”

Midge flexed an oversize arm, her bicep bulging.  “How about Mighty Aphrodite?” she asked.

“Now you’re talking,” Kendra said, punching the giantess’ shoulder.

The next morning, Jen could feel the growth start as she wolfed down an even more massive breakfast than the day before.  Her knees lifted the table as her legs lengthened and she packed on more muscle.  Her breasts were between her and the diminishing table.  She ate around them for awhile, then moved the plates atop her newly enormous hooters.

Jen was now well over eight feet tall.  She still had such a small, ripped belly and tight butt that she looked like an incredibly well-built, normal-sized woman -- if you had nothing to compare her to.

The clinic measured Jen at 8-foot-4.  Everything at the clinic seemed even smaller than the day before, and Jen realized she was enjoying this immensely -- as immensely as someone her size could.

Kendra was right about the parties.  Jen was a huge hit with the men, but kept them at the emotional equivalent of  arm’s length.  She was driven now by her appetite, and it was for food and growing at the moment. 

That night Jen’s sleep was disturbed when she hit her head on the wall beside her bed.  Groggily realizing she had grown, she tried pulling her feet up into her bed and adjusting herself.

About an hour later, still sleeping, Jen hit her head again.  She adjusted again, as best she could, still too sleepy to fully realize what was happening.

Twenty minutes later, Jen hit head hard enough to wake up.  She realized she was growing -- a lot.  And she was already far bigger than she had been when she’d gone to bed.

Panic-stricken, Jen stood up -- and promptly hit her head on the ceiling.  She couldn’t even come close to standing up straight.  She sat down on the floor, naked and bawling.