The moment Caitlin emerged from the classroom, she knew what she needed. It was sick that this was becoming such a routine, but there was no use crying about it now. After tipping her second desk for the day, she had actually contemplated making an even bigger scene and screaming some more, possibly even throwing the desk. Regardless, the deed was done. She had let them get to her, and now she'd suffer the consequences.

She needed food now. Critically.

It was surreal for Caitlin. She had walked these halls for three years, thinking all the silly, superficial thoughts of any girl her age. Now, she imagined how she looked, a hulking, ravenous monster, only thinking of her hunger and how she could satisfy it. Sure, she relented, she was being a bit melodramatic, but when you’ve grown over a foot in less than a month and were craving food like you never have before in your life, it was easy to let the drama of the moment get away from you.

Her mind raced with possibilities. She considered a vending machine, but she knew she didn’t have enough cash for the amount of food she was craving. She would likely end up attacking it and tipping the damn thing onto herself. I’m stronger than I was, but not strong enough to avoid being crushed by a vending machine. A few unlocked lockers seemed appealing targets, but the few she checked were either empty or contained merely a few books or school supplies. Caitlin winced slightly as the moaning of her stomach indicated that within minutes her hunger pangs would likely reach a painful level.

Suddenly, an idea hit her like a divine ray of light. A girl on workstudy (bless these private schools) had informed her that many student workers save food to take home in the cafeteria fridges and ovens. Recalling this, Caitlin promptly burst into a mad dash toward the lunchroom. She knew she was taking a chance running in the hallway, but she figured that her chances of being stopped by faculty while class was in session were slim.

As if on cue, Mr. Dallas, the most anal math teacher in his particular school district (he’d actually won the title at a regional education seminar), stepped out of his classroom to investigate the disruptive sound of running footsteps. A solid, relatively tall man of 6’1”, he stepped into the hallway, in front of the offender, whom, judging purely from the volume of the sound, he’d initially assessed as belonging to a male athlete. When the sight of an altitudinous young girl appeared, he flashed a brief look of wonder, before firmly resolving to hold his ground. Freak of nature or not, running, let alone sprinting, through the halls was highly inappropriate.

The sight of Mr. Dallas had been on her short list of worst-case scenarios, and after whimsically entertaining the option of barreling over him, she screeched to a halt, stopping right in front of him. Mr. Dallas was an upper-division math instructor, whom she seen only in passing. Like many other faculty, Mr. Dallas had always given her grief over her attitude and wardrobe, which annoyed her more since she was not a student of his. This particular showdown had an entirely different flavor, as Caitlin looked down at him. A man who had always seemed intimidating, Mr. Dallas seemed slightly less imposing when, in their close quarters, his eyes were about level with her mouth. Unflinching, Mr. Dallas sized up the student in front of him.

“I must ask what could be so important for you to justify your sprinting through school the hallways.”

Caitlin didn’t have time for an extended ordeal. “I’m really not feeling well,” she said. She wasn’t exactly lying, since she was starving and a bit afraid of what would happen to her if she didn’t get food soon.

“Well you’re feeling well enough to run apparently.”

“Sir, I’m sorry. But I really need to go now.”

“You are not excused. What is your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“Sir.I need to go now.” The cafeteria was just around the corner, and she wasn’t sure if she could actually smell the food of if she was just hallucinating out of desperation.

“What is your name?”

“Sir, I…”

“Answer my question!”

A pang of hunger hit Caitlin like a ton of bricks, and a searing heat shot through her limbs, causing her such pain that she gasped softly and clenched her teeth and fists. A dizzy spell then washed over her, and she clutched her stomach with her arms. The episode lasted only a few seconds, and when she opened her eyes, she expected to see the angry, condescending eyes of Mr. Dallas. Instead, she saw the eyebrows of Mr. Dallas riding at near-hairline level. It didn’t take her long to realize why. Where Mr. Dallas had previously been eye-level with her mouth, his eyes were now about level with her chin. Not only that, but her momentary vertigo had caused her to lurch forward slightly, bringing her substantial chest just under his chin, brushing lightly against it.

There was a brief pause before a pale and sweaty Caitlin staggered past him, unintentionally nudging him aside with her breast. Mr. Dallas said nothing, but silently logged the episode away, wondering if, or when, he would run into that particular student again. He did know that he couldn’t wait to get home.

*****

Caitlin’s vision had gone blurry by the time she crashed through the doors into the cafeteria. Initially, she had been concerned that there would be staff still there, but those concerns had melted away as her need for food surpassed critical. Fortunately for her, the lunch periods were over and the staff was long gone. Caitlin headed for a large economy oven, overjoyed to find a few pizza boxes. Grabbing the first box she saw, she tore open the box and began stuffing slices of pizza into her mouth without resolve. It almost hurt to get the first bites down, and in under two minutes flat she had finished an entire large pizza. It meant nothing to her, however, as she reached for the next box and heartily dug in.

Hours seemed to go by, though in reality it took Caitlin under fifteen minutes to finish three and a half pizzas. She slowed to a nibble, when she finally became cognizant of her surroundings and reality set in. Empty boxes were strewn about her, and she had pizza stains all over her clothes. Before she could fuss about those, the sound of a door opening caught her attention. She ducked, lurched to her feet, and headed for the back door, pizza box in tow.

Adjacent to the cafeteria, the art building was her best bet for avoiding anyone. It was nothing short of a miracle that she had thus far avoided anyone outside of Mr. Dallas, but she could hardly even remember the encounter.Knowing me, she thought, I probably did something stupid. The art finals had already passed, so Caitlin figured the art room would be a reasonable place to crash. The side door was propped open, and, after a quick scan of the room, Caitlin staggered in and collapsed onto one of the couches in the back of the room, tossing the pizza box onto the ground. Caitlin was still munching on another slice of pizza as she did her best to piece together her day.

Okay, I demolished an exit sign, freaked out half of my school, made two scenes in two different classes, flipped off my teacher, and now I've stolen a substantial amount of pizza from the cafeteria kitchen.

The events of the day seemed minor, however, in comparison to the physical discomfort of her current situation. The couch, a two-seater, clearly was not designed for a person of her stature and her legs hung over the edge up to mid-calf. Not only that, but her clothes, already ill-fitting, now noticeably clung to her body more so than merely an hour ago. Caitlin rubbed her distended belly, which clearly bore evidence of the nearly four pizzas she had put away.

“Jeez,” she muttered aloud, unbuttoning her pants and allowing herself some breathing room. After a moment, she decided to unbutton her blouse, which looked silly with her midsection stressing the remaining buttons already at high tension due to her overflowing breasts. While she could justify the tension of her shirt, she could feel that her pants were tighter than they had been all morning. Caitlin was puzzled, before she recalled her brief encounter with Mr. Dallas. She did some quick estimates in her head, figuring she had sprouted a couple inches then, and that was before…

Oh shit.

Caitlin could almost feel her metabolism kicking into high gear. Her first growth spurts had made her extremely tired, but the last few had, if anything, almost energized her. As her body prepared for its metamorphosis, the feeling of every inch of cloth on her body shifting and sliding across her skin nearly overwhelmed her heightened senses. As she took in breaths, her substantial chest rose and fell, though it seemed with each breath her chest would fall less and rise more. All about her torso, and particularly around her exposed breasts, the fabric of her top stretched to accommodate the expansion of her body. She cooed softly, as she absent-mindedly groped one of her breasts with her hand; her long fingers sinking into the soft mound, which even felt massive in her lengthened hands.

While preoccupied with the expansion of her upper half, Caitlin’s legs had taken on an impressive growth of their own, gracefully stretching further out of the former cuff of her pants, which now nearly reached her knees. A seam along the side gave way slightly, and the tearing sound accompanied a slight feeling of relief around her thighs from the formerly constricting pants. In near-ecstasy, Caitlin moaned aloud and turned about on the couch, relishing the feeling of the old, rough fabric against her body. The furniture seemed less like a couch and more like a large armchair, as she struggled to find a position where her larger body could lie comfortably.

In spite of her posture, however, Caitlin felt oddly serene as she relished the euphoria of her current state. She arched her back and extended her arms in a full body stretch, and seams all over her undersized wardrobe protested in response. Additionally, her stretch tee crept up to just under her breasts, exposing all of her midriff. Allowing one leg and arm to hang off the side of the couch, she let her long, dark locks drape into her face. and she gave a passing thought to the absence of her blonde roots, before settling into a soft doze.