II

The air was dry, as always, and the road stretching in front of Jonathan seemed to crackle with heat. His convertible sped along the highway, airing his hair while a symphony of metal clatter played in his ears from the tools stashed in the back of his car. It seemed this bright day could hold no surprises, no unforeseen event as the mood on this summer weekend pointed toward handiwork, leisure and proper time off. —This will warrant a cold beer—thought Jonathan. Eventually, the desert gave way to small shrubland. Little bushes here and there obstinate in their intent to grow despite the harsh conditions. They stood defiantly, with their branches out, as if saying that they had won this fight and were there to stay.

Jonathan felt a sort of exhilaration, his body weightless, free of burdens and worry. —Nothing—he thought—will make this day go awry.— As if he had tempted fate, in that moment, Jonathan perceived something amiss in the distance. What looked like distant clouds in front of him clarified into something much closer. —White smoke? —There, amidst the heat and dust was an old green looking car of dubious make. Sitting down on its side, with their back against the frame, was this strikingly beautiful woman. At the moment his eyes crossed her head, she noticed him, waving her hands energetically, clearly as a signal to slow down. Jonathan slowed down and stopped behind the wrecked car. 

“Are you all right?” yelled Jonathan toward her as he exited his vehicle. She rose up, tall as ever one could be. His eyes dilated, impressed by the sight: she was gigantic. He had never seen a woman as tall as her before. He couldn’t quite tell what her height was, but she towered at least two heads over him, his head at the level of her chest. “Car trouble?”

“Hi! I’m so glad you stopped. You’re the first car I’m seeing in about half an hour,” exclaimed the woman. “I was on my way to the west coast, but as you can see my car decided otherwise. Do you … can you help me?”

Jonathan approached her, his heart racing. —She’s breathtaking!—he exclaimed internally. Instinctively, and despite his best attempts, his sight set on the various details of her body: massive, elongated feet, held inside sandals looking several sizes too small, supported the longest legs he had ever witnessed. Her long torso proudly displayed a smooth midriff, her top too short to cover everything. She brought a large hand toward him, ready for a handshake. 

“I’m Kayla,” she said as a greeting. Jonathan took her hand for the shake, his own struggling to grasp more than her palm as massive fingers gripped him like a kraken from the sea. 

“Jonathan!” he greeted back with a smile. As he finished the handshake, Jonathan quickly gave a look to the tiny car behind her. “Hum, look, this seems pretty dire,” he said approaching the front of the vehicle, “I assume you don’t have a cell phone with you?”

“I do but… I couldn’t get a connection.” Her eyes subtly darted about. This was not the true reason. While Kayla did indeed lack connection, she remembered how she barely was able to unlock her phone as her large fingers removed all hope of precise input. 

“I barely have a connection bar here,” said Jonathan, looking at his own mobile. There was a bigger problem: Jonathan knew nothing about cars and needed the help of a professional mechanic. It would prove impossible for him to do anything about it. He explained to her the situation and eventually proposed a solution: “Look, I hesitate to offer, but I was heading to my grandfather’s cottage, about half an hour away from here. Only if you’re comfortable, can I bring you there until we can tow your car back, or simply until it’s repaired, or whatever needs to be done. Tomorrow I need to go buy some groceries in town, about an hour away from here. I have a few things with me but it won’t be enough for more than a day. I can drop you at a bus stop at the same time if you want to keep going with your trip. I really don’t know how to proceed other than that. I’ve never handled this situation before.”

Kayla looked at her car, then back at Jonathan’s automobile. “All right. You can call the towing of your choice. You can use my card. Kayla looked down at Jonathan. She thought him cute. Had this been from a time from before her current changes, she very probably would have refused his help. But now, the usual feelings of danger were missing. His smaller skinny frame looked positively adorable next to her. —Maybe I’ll even stay at his place—she thought absentmindedly, her unconscious self creating an agenda. As they waited, both sat down behind Jonathan’s car, in view of the incoming way. Kayla laid back against the car’s bumper, her legs spread out. Jonathan did the same by her side and proceeded with small talk. He heard how she was on her way to the coast, eventually to scout and move to a new place, but also as a vacation. For her part, she learned of his grandfather’s passing, and the problems with the cottage he had left him, the many tools in the back of his convertible proof of the work to be done. 

Time passed.

The Sun, now low on the horizon, darted in out of distant clouds. Eventually, a truck appeared, far away, heading their way. It came to a halt behind Jonathan’s car, and out came a man. His skin was like a mirror of the crackled ground of this dusty plain. A man molded by the desert. Kayla moved out of the way, and looked down at the two as they exchanged information and contacts. The man took his payment, attached the broken car to his own, and off he went, leaving the two alone after a minute, the sound of the wind their only companion.

Jonathan turned to Kayla: “Well, shall we?” She smiled back at him and acquiesced.

Jonathan’s convertible was swift, efficient and roared like thunder. Kayla, sitting in the passenger seat, was physically uncomfortable. Her hands fumbled with the seat extender, trying to push away from the front board and unfortunately discovering it was already at its maximum distance. She turned to Jonathan: “I’m super sorry, can I put my feet up? My legs just … don’t fit.” Indeed, her knees were completely folded toward her chest, her face contorting in annoyance. 

“I really don’t mind. Make yourself comfortable please!” he said as he looked at her fumbling with her sandals. She unsnapped the leathery strands and pulled her long feet out, the mark of the straps leaving a small reddish hue where they pressed. She rubbed them softly, the pain rapidly disappearing. “Having a hard time with your sandals?” Jonathan blurted out, surprised at his candidness. 

“Yeah, I need to buy some new ones, these clearly do not fit me anymore.” Kayla smiled. She propped her feet up on the front panel, extending her imposing legs in full view. “I didn’t notice they were too small when I got ’em, and I thought it could wait until next week, but clearly it’s a problem I need fixin’.” Of course, she was lying. Kayla looked at Jonathan. His eyes were fixed on the road, but his red cheeks gave away he thought he had been caught looking at her. She took notice.

A while later, as they came upon the crest of a small hill, following a dirt road off the highway, they came upon this comfortable, albeit run down looking house. Surrounded by dry bushes, unkempt yellowish grass and just off a small, very sparsely populated forested area. The habitat gave off this cozy feeling you get looking at a place that’s just out of the way of civilization yet close enough to it for comfort. His grandfather’s cottage: an old house he had inherited three years before. It just didn’t seem to want to stay in good shape. Whenever something was fixed, another piece of furniture would break. The last time he was over the place, he noticed the outside windows in dire need of repairs. Jonathan brought the car in the driveway, and parked just by the porch. Kayla jumped out, easily passing her long legs over the doors of the convertible. “Ouch!” she instinctively exclaimed as her feet pressed on the prickly, dry grass. They gathered their belongings and proceeded inside. The lower floors felt damp. Jonathan took the initiative of opening up a few windows. The smell of old wood lingered in the air. Outside, the light was now falling rapidly, and so Kayla flicked on some lights. 

She looked around a bit and noticed some stairs leading to a second floor.

“Where should I set up?” She asked her host. 

“Oh! Give me a second…” he responded. “Alright, I have a couch here we can turn into a bed. It’s quite comfortable you’ll see. It’s right here, in the living room. I’ll go get some sheets, just ‘prep’ everything up for later. I’ll be right back.”

Jonathan left Kayla as he headed upstairs. She entered the living room and looked around. It was mostly old dusty knick-knacks on some shelves. A small bookcase with only a few volumes, most laid down and showing some disuse. On the opposite wall of these was a two-person gray couch, so mundane in looks it felt transparent. She removed its cushions and unfolded the bed. From her height, it barely looked big enough. She definitely would have to curl up to be able to sleep properly. The floors upstairs creaked, signifying Jonathan was still looking around for the bed sheets. Kayla sighed. She sat on the unmade bed, her hand passing over the mattress’s ridges. She thought back to the matter of her growth. 

It was only a few months ago, she recalled, that it started. After a mundane day at her previous apartment, during her daily masturbatory session, she felt it for the first time. A sort of electric feeling spreading out from her orgasm. Like a mix of the perception obtained while stretching out one’s limbs and the euphoria that comes from the moment of ecstasy during climax. The tight tank top she was wearing at the time instantly snapped off her shoulders. There she was, laying in bed, wet from her sweat and ejaculation, and noticed her predicament. As soon as she got up to take stock of the situation, she noticed her height. She used to be one hundred and fifty-two centimeters tall. A small and skinny lady frequently described as graceful thanks to her slender frame. Yet, here she was looking at the utmost top of her bedroom mirror. Kayla hurried to her tool drawer and took a measuring tape out. A mix of worry and excitement shook her hands as she tried to put the soft metallic tape against the wall.

One hundred and sixty-six centimeters.

She spent the next day feeling giddy. It is not uncommon for people to dislike certain physical features of theirs through body dysmorphia. Kayla, for her part, always disliked her short stature. She thought it infantilizing, mostly because of how men acted toward her. This recent boost to her height was instantly accompanied with a boost in confidence. Her mind already realized, subconsciously, how others would change how they treated her. On each night of the following two days, she ragingly masturbated at the idea of growing. She could feel her usual sex toys becoming smaller, ineffective as they left more space in her nether regions. By the third day, she had grown almost thirty centimeters more and reached one hundred and ninety-four centimeters. Kayla packed what few belongings she had and left the city shortly after, not having much to leave behind. She didn’t look back. She would find her place, and see what to do with that body of hers.

A knock on a wooden frame took Kayla out of her reverie. Jonathan was back downstairs with a bunch of sheets. He tried to hide the admiration his heart felt at seeing this giant woman laid back against the couch’s back pillows.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about what got me here,'' said Kayla. Springing up like a gazelle, she quickly took the sheets out of Jonathan’s arms, her bounces placing enough stress on the old floor to visibly shake it. In the span of less than a minute, she was able to dress up the bed. Her arm span was so great that putting the covers felt as easy as putting a drapery over a small table. 

“By the way,” started Jonathan, “I’m sorry I can’t offer you any proper room. Upstairs, my bedroom only has a single bed, and the old master’s bedroom is taken over by furniture from the inheritance.” Kayla motioned at him with the back of her hand to signify she did not mind.

Night had fallen and they both moved to the kitchen to get ready for dinner. The evening was spent discussing their lives and what got them there. Kayla evaded any subject related to her height. She was not yet ready to reveal her current circumstances. The night wore on, and both wished each other good night and a promise of a morning that would bring solutions for Kayla’s car.

She slipped under the covers. As she thought, her feet completely poked out of the bottom of the bed all the way to her shins. She somehow found herself turned on by this. The feeling of becoming too much for this world built for people that were always taller than her. She wiggled her toes, stretched her legs, and imagined herself even taller. Her left hand slowly went down to her hardening clitoris. —Should I?—she wondered, pressing her right nipple, feeling its fatness send her small jolts of pleasure, she created an image in her head. An image of her standing above the house, Jonathan looking up at her dumbfounded. His shape was barely tall enough to reach above the slope of her feet. Kayla’s long toes bigger than him, and the house looking like a doll plaything for her to use as she pleases.

—Fuck, I shouldn’t …—as a small amount of her own lubricant wet the bed. She didn’t care. Her middle finger accelerated its pacing, ramming her pleasure walls, the feeling of warmth overtaking her body. —I want to be so fuckin’ huge.—she thought. The image became stronger. She saw herself looking over shifting dirt. Small bumps in the distance. Mountains no bigger than her heels. This idea of the world being insignificant compared to her. Ultimate freedom, domination above all else.

Kayla came, her vaginal walls contracting. She muffled her screams. Her plentiful ejaculate seeped all over the sheets in a small, sprayed out jet. Again and again. Her hips bucked up and down, unable to prevent herself from reaching a second orgasm. All her fingers but her thumbs were now being used to penetrate the gaping opening between her legs, cupping palms of woman lube out. Her calves now stretched past the bottom of the bed. She barely noticed. Like a hurricane swiping across the sea, her movements pushed the bed sheets on the floor. Her hips see-sawed up and down, her soles now firmly on the floor as her very own waist approached the bottom of the bed.

Slowly, Kayla’s feelings dissipated back to normalcy. The bed’s edges were unable to contain the pool of juices she had let out. There, in the middle of the wilderness, in Jonathan’s cottage, was the birth of the world’s end.

Kayla spread her limbs out over the couch’s arms rest. She fell asleep from exhaustion in a few minutes, uncaring at the scene she was displaying. She knew that, from now on, people would do as she says, and tomorrow, Jonathan would be the first to experience a new world order.

* * * * *