I'm baaaaaaaaack! My project is partially done, and going on the back burner for now. Back to writing about growing giantesses, then.
Sorry again about the delay--I will try to do better on this story, now that I've got that big thing out of the way. Thanks for your patience, and I hope everyone continues to enjoy this story.
Without further ado, here we go!
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It turned out she didn't have to wait long. Soon enough, the tall Latina stumbled in her heels, leaning on her friend for support.
“You okay, Lita?” Susan asked, unconsciously tugging at her denim skirt.
“I'm alright, yeah. These heels are killing me all of a sudden, though,” she replied, bracing against Susan's shoulder as she lifted first one foot, then the other, checking the heels with a puzzled frown. She fidgeted with them a bit, then set her feet back down and stepped experimentally a few times.
“Any better?”
“No. Dammit! I guess I need to swap out for the flats,” Carmelita said with a scowl. “Too bad. I look fucking hot in these. And they make me feel so tall!”
Susan had to admit her friend had a point there. Lita seemed to loom even taller over her than usual, which struck her as odd—she seemed even taller than she had at the start of the evening.
Nah, that doesn't make any sense. “They do look good, Lita. But you look great anyway, there's no need to make yourself suffer.”
Carmelita sighed. “I guess. I brought the flats in my purse. I'm going to the ladies' room, I'll be back. Don't take my free drink while I'm gone,” she said, winking at Susan. She wheeled around and strode toward the restrooms.
At her table, Vanessa swore softly. “Dammit. What if something happens while she's in there?”
“Huh?” said Jake, staring at her in confusion.
“Oh. I, uh, thought I saw someone I know. I'm gonna go say hi, okay?” she said, already rising from the table.
“Do you think we might actually dance at some point?” he said snarkily. “It's okay, go ahead,” he added as she turned to look over her shoulder at him.
Carmelita had already made it to the ladies' room as Vanessa reached the dance floor, so she tried to push through the crowd as quickly as possible. Finally crossing the floor, she pushed open the door and stepped inside, finding herself in the restroom yet again. The row of hand sinks sat in the wall to her right, running down the room away from the door, while several stalls ran the length of the opposite side. Nobody was visible in there at the moment; she assumed her target had ducked into one of the stalls. For a moment, Vanessa was concerned that she'd just followed someone on their way to use the restroom.
Then again, you've already intentionally poisoned three people tonight, so.
She was relieved, however, to see a pair of flats on the floor under the far stall door, next to the red heels containing Carmelita's feet. She seemed to be struggling to remove her heels—evidently she'd just come in here to trade them out. Vanessa felt a pang of sympathy, knowing how painful heels could be. She opened a stall door and closed it to give the impression she'd gone in, then crept closer to the Latina, who was muttering under her breath. The shoes clopped to the floor, followed by a relieved sigh and “Finally!” At a glance, Vanessa could see why the other woman had had so much trouble. Her bare feet were visibly too big for the heels. They were also obviously too big for the replacement shoes, a fact which became obvious to the other woman a moment later.
“What the hell?” her voice said loudly. Her hand reached down to try to adjust the flats, but it was going to be no use; there was just no way her feet were going to get into them. As Vanessa kept watching, she almost thought she could actually see Carmelita's feet and hands getting bigger relative to the increasingly ill-fitting shoes.
A sudden fabric-tearing sound came from behind the door. “What the fuck?!” Carmelita growled. “Stupid dress!” A few more tearing sounds, louder this time, came from within the stall. “
Mierda! What's wrong with this fucking thing?” Vanessa heard a few snaps and pops, then a thump as something impacted the side of the stall. “What the hell is going on?” There was another thump, and the stall door jiggled as something hit it. “Jesus, the fucking walls are closing in on me!” Carmelita cried. The growing feet shifted anxiously under the door, followed by the door rattling again and a couple of heavy thumps, as if she was banging on the door from within. “Oh my god, I can't get out!” she yelled, her volume noticeably louder in the confined space of the bathroom.
Vanessa saw the top of her head appear above the stall, slowly rising higher.
I'd better get out of here before she sees me... She turned and started for the door.
“Hey! Is someone in here? Help me!” cried the trapped Carmelita. “I don't know what's happening to me and I'm stuck in the--” Vanessa didn't like the abrupt pause, but she liked the “YOU!” that followed it even less. She turned around and saw the Latina's eyes peeking over the top of the stall, fixing on Vanessa like a laser sight. “You! You
bruja! What the fuck did you do to me?!” Her eyes were murderous, and as she kept getting taller, more of her expression came into view. It wasn't an improvement. Vanessa bolted from the bathroom, Carmelita's furious cries trailing after her.
So I got someone mad at me and then made her bigger than me, she thought as she fought her way through the crowded dance floor.
In retrospect, I realize this was a very short-sighted plan. She was so focused on escaping the threat behind her that she wasn't paying enough attention to where she was going, and as she turned to look for Jake she collided with someone, her face smashing painfully into a shoulder blade. She tumbled to the floor, landing painfully on her ass. She turned toward the owner of the shoulder. “Watch where you're...”
Her angry invective died in her throat as she got a good look at who she'd bumped into. Her gaze traveled up from the toes pushing through the torn stitching on the black platform boots, up along the ripping fishnet stockings, past the denim skirt that had ridden high enough on the thighs to reveal a hint of panties, up the exposed midriff and very tight sleeveless gray top, and past the prodigious set of breasts to the glaring face of Susan. Susan, who had been shorter than her minutes ago when she'd spilled the water on them, and who was now a head taller than Vanessa. Even as she stared, she could see Susan's vantage point rising slowly higher, more stitches popping in her boots and her stockings shredding further.