Jack Foote stood on his flat’s balcony and peered off towards the coast. The city skyline had been gray and drab, but now it was much easier on the eyes. Hell, it might save this town. It had certainly done more than what he had struggled to do for it in his 25 years as its Member of Parliament. It was his wife’s hot niece, Becca. She had a chemical accident at the pharmaceutical factory where she worked, causing her to grow 30% in height each day. This had coincided with the sale of the formerly nationalized ship builder to a bank which was planning to lay off workers and liquidate some assets. But when his niece, 26-year-old Becca, had grown to roughly the same height as the cranes that the shipyard grew, that had given Jack an idea. She could replace the crane! It was actually more efficient, with less time trying to steer a crane, and allowed them to scale up operations, and hire more people. It also drew tourism and she would become a mascot for the cruise ship companies that were buying the ships they built. He watched as she did her job, the 1000-foot-tall woman bending over with her legs slightly spread. He gasped as he briefly saw her pussy, which would’ve swallowed him whole several times over. He was hard. He felt a little embarrassed. He had never perved over his wife’s relation like this before. He was her godfather after all, and they’d been very close. There was no end in sight for her growth, and he fantasized that she would be powerful enough to overthrow the corrupt government that was trying to screw this town. He could run things on the ground for her. There was the short-term issue that soon she’d be too big to act as a crane, but she’d be able to crush entire cities by that point. The government was itching to restrain her, but the cruise company had payed them off to let her finish this month’s order. Those corrupt idiots were paving the way for their own demise….

How did this happen, you ask?

20 Days Earlier: Rebecca Short tried to catch a power nap during her lunch break at her work in a pharmaceutical plant. The night before, she’d took her brother for a pint at the pub…although it had turned into a little more than a pint. Her sister-in-law had just miscarried, and she’d convinced her brother Harry was their version of a wake (although they lived in Sunderland-their family was Irish)- but in reality, she just wanted to get him away from his moping and depressed wife.  “Hey Becca” she slowly opened her eyes from her nap. It was her friend Ian. She felt something….he was running his hands through her hair. She grinned playfully, but he couldn’t see that as his face was turned. Before Ian could respond at all, she leaped up and pinned his arm to his back, immobilizing him. “You like my hair, do you?”. “Yes, but I like my arm more” Ian quipped back. With her free hand she playfully spun her long hair around her finger. When she had it down it went midway down her back and was very strong. Again without warning, she wrapped it around his neck and applied pressure. Obviously, it couldn’t do any harm, but it irritated him. “Only blokes with thick necks can touch my hair” and she released him and playfully slapped his back. “Yeah, yeah. But none of them could handle you”. Becca blushed and then looked away. She was a guy’s girl, someone who joked around with local lads but was never interested in something deeper. She was seen as extremely attractive, but she was shy about it; it was the only time she was bashful.  She looked away and turned towards the break room TV.  It was another display of quintessential British wit, Prime Minister’s Questions. Her uncle was an MP and he was up today.

Becca and Ian watched with pride as her uncle Jack was called by the speaker and rose gracefully to speak. “Will the Prime Minister please describe the conditions of the sale of Sunderland Ships, and who will purchase it, noting that her government rejected the fair bid of the workers union”. The Prime Minister looked down at her notes and then spoke. “They government has solicited a purchase from qualified private investors with BrittaniaBank who will take a stake in it. There are no conditions- and by the looks of it, they will need to liquidate some assets. I am aware this will cause harm- but this creative destruction”. Becca and Ian looked at each other with dread. They were selling off Sunderland Ships, and not to the workers (who’d bid for it). No, a bank would run it, and that inevitably meant layoffs and union busting. Her father worked there as did her brother, as did a plurality of the working men of Sunderland It was devastating news for the struggling town.

The mood was somber as she set off to work again after lunch. Her mind was spinning, and she’d zoned out several times while mixing chemicals. She gotten careless and some bubbled up and squirted her in the eye. She rushed over to the eye wash station, but she didn’t want to get caught. Ian saw her and rushed over. “I’m fine. Can you just cover my station for a few minutes?”. What a shit day.

As she mechanically rose from bed the next morning, Becca was jolted into a higher state of consciousness by a surprise when dressing herself. She yawned and stretched and enjoyed the cold air on her bare nipples. She always slept naked. Much like her name suggested, she was not particularly tall, standing at 5’4”. But when she tried to slip on her panties, she couldn’t even get them over her thighs. She realized she wasn’t able to find her way to her dresser from muscle memory without bumping into it. But her eyes were all the way open now, and everything looked significantly smaller. She hurriedly rushed into her bathroom and hoped on her scale, which had a height rod.  She gasped when she saw her height. 6’11”. What the hell was going on? She looked down at her naked body. Everything looked normal, just bigger. She checked her weight. 265 lbs. It seemed like a proportionate increase from her old weight, a petite 120 lbs. She realized her work clothes wouldn’t fit. Hell, she couldn’t even get on her panties. What was she going to do about work? In her bathroom she saw her bathrobe hanging up, and she thought it might fit. The normally loose kimono robe snugly wrapped her shapely form. On her ass and tits it was skin-tight, stretching the fabric to its limits. What the hell was she going to do? She had no leave from work, and she didn’t want anyone to see her like this. She’d have to get medical attention.

When she’d got into the emergency room, she got some stares. A 6’11” woman in skin-tight clothes was bound to do that. A nurse took pity on her and led her to a more private alcove (where nurses would typically go to use the vending machine). Of course, the nurse assumed she was just an unusually tall woman with some inflammation or something. When she saw a doctor, he of course ogled her swollen tits, much to her annoyance. Even more annoyingly, he refused to entertain she’d been 5’4” yesterday. He sent her off with nothing. When she got home, thoroughly exhausted and stressed from the ordeal, she passed out for a nap. She awoke when her phone rang in the evening. It was Ian. “Hey Luv, where the hell are ya? The boss is pretty peeved. I can’t cover for you all the time you know”. “Ian, I need you to come by my flat after work tomorrow” she responded cryptically. It would be awkward, but he was her best friend. She trusted him. And she wasn’t the one in danger. She yawned and stretched again, but this time her outstretched arm bumped into the ceiling. Dear God. She had grown again.