Eve's Boutique - Ch 13

Wednesday Morning Size Update

Abigail:
8’2”, 501 lbs; +2ft 3in, 327 lbs.  Bench Press: 415 lbs; +335 lbs. 

Chloe:
6’9”, 439 lbs; +11in, 172 lbs. Bench Press: 716 lbs; +381 lbs.

Kayla:
6’1”, 214 lbs. Bench Press: 286 lbs.

Mackenzie:
5’9”, 160 lbs Bench Press: 90 lbs. 

Bare-Foot Confessions

The address Eve gave her turned out to be a cute little coffee shop, about two miles from Abigail’s apartment.  Eve was waiting for her outside, close to normal-sized this morning.  She was holding two paper cups, a notebook tucked under her arm.

“I figured you could use a treat,” Eve said, looking her up and down.  “After your big night.”

She handed Abigail the larger of the two cups.

Abigail shifted her backpack, supporting it with a single finger, and carefully pinched the offered cup.  It was really hard not to crush it.  “Go ahead.  Make your jokes, I deserve it.  I didn’t follow your orders to the letter, and this is the consequence.”

“Consequence.  Is that your first impression?”  The tiny witch tried to open her notebook, juggling it while holding a pen and her cup of coffee.  “Hm.  Why don’t we walk to that park across the street.  Find someplace we can sit down.”

“I’m fulfilling a pact I made, so we can play this however you want.”  Abigail pointed to her enormous, bare feet.  “But can we pick a path that’s gentle on me?  I never noticed how many rocks there are in this city before.”

Eve winced.  “Sorry.  I should’ve thought of that.  I have something you could’ve borrowed – though you’re probably sick of borrowed clothes by now.”

“Ironically, this is my first time wearing something I own in days.”  Abigail tugged at her makeshift toga.  “It’s my bedsheet.  A twin, which seemed like plenty for me last week?  At least it’s keeping me compliant with public decency laws.”

The two walked across the street, Eve taking two steps for each of Abigail’s.  They walked through the grass.  It was still wet with morning dew, and felt sort of nice on her feet.  And she didn’t have to look out for broken glass.

There were a dozen or so people in the park at this time of morning.  Joggers, dog walkers, an old couple feeding ducks.  Whenever any of them caught sight of Abigail – all eight feet of her – they would stop and stare.  The sun was barely filtering in over the trees, and the golden morning light illuminated her from the shoulders up.  It was almost too dramatic.  Like nature itself was conspiring to make her look divine.

“So,” Eve drawled.  “I would’ve expected you to be somewhere in the six-and-a-half-foot range this morning.  I can’t help but notice you’re… more than that.  Eight-foot-something, give or take.  Was the formula too strong?”

“I took more than three drops,” Abigail grumbled.

Eve sipped her coffee.  “Oh.  How many?”

“Four.”

Eve sat down on a park bench, which only exacerbated the way Abigail towered over her.  “That would account for a few extra inches.  Were there any other complicating factors?  For instance, did you mix it with my other potions?”

Abigail sighed dramatically.  “Yeah.”

“Okay.”  Eve began to write.  “Which ones?”

“All of them.”

Eve glanced up at the giantess, and gave her a sly little smile.  “Like.  Including the pink one?  Kayla’s?”

Abigail said nothing.  She adjusted her bedsheet, pulling it up to cover her chest.  Which, considering where Eve was sitting, only served to give her an eyeful of thigh instead.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” Eve said, going back to her notebook.  “For the record, I’m not surprised.”

“You knew this was going to happen?”

“No.  But I kinda hoped.”

“You hoped?  Why would you possibly….”  Abigail cut herself off mid-sentence.  Déjà vu.

“I care.  Let’s just leave it at that.  Okay?”

“Fine.  What else do you want to know?  Let’s get through this, so you can put me back to a more normal height.”

“Gotcha, we’ll go quick.  Were there any particular growth triggers?  Things that made you grow faster?  Maybe in like… sudden bursts?”

“Yes,” she said.  And left it at that, trying her damndest not to blush.

The witch made an I-thought-so noise from the back of her throat.  “You implied you don’t enjoy being this tall.  Where would you rate it, on a scale from one to ten?”

“Three.”

“Can you list some reasons for that rating?  Don’t overthink it, just the first things that come to mind.”

“I don’t know Eve.  I can’t fit on the bus, and I’m dressed like some cut-rate Greek empress, and everyone’s staring at me.  Plus I think I stepped in someone’s chewing gum.  And how am I going to fit in a desk when I get to class?  I won’t be able to sit next to Elijah anymore.”

“Trust me,” she said distractedly as she wrote.  “He’d still find a way to be close.  For contrast now.  What are some things you enjoy about this height?”

She considered.  “The view, I guess?  And considering I had to walk, I still got here really fast.  There was last night of course, no I’m not going into detail.  I like feeling powerful.  And even if I don’t like all the stares, the way people are staring isn’t the worst, if that makes sense.  And also, I’m enjoying getting to loom over you.”

Eve looked up suddenly.  “Me specifically?”

It was a bad idea to lie to a witch.

“Um.  Yes.”

The witch slowly returned her eyes to her notebook.  It was a few seconds before she spoke again.  “Please rate the flavor of the potion.”

“Is there a zero on the scale?”

Eve made a mark, and then paused.  It was probably a trick of the morning light, but Abigail thought she might be blushing.  “How would you rate last night?  The ah, over-all experience?”

Abigail buried her face in her hands.  “Ten.  But….”

“But there were complicating factors.  I understand.  Last question: would you recommend it to a friend?”

Her first instinct was to say no.  But then she considered that she had shared the potion with Chloe.  That qualified as a recommendation.

“Yes.”

Eve nodded, then set her notebook aside.  She stood, brushing herself off.

“Okay.  That’s all I need.  You ready to be reset?”

“Yeah.  Only….”  She gestured down at herself, her improved physique.  The increase in muscle tone had left her chest a bit more prominent than the day before, and her hips had an alluring flare to them.  She at least didn’t look like she spent all day indoors reading fantasy novels anymore.  “Can you only adjust my height?  And only set me back to five-eleven.  I want to keep everything else.”

“We can do that.  I’ll walk you through how this works.”  The witch held out both hands, palms up.  “First.  Hold me.”

Abigail reached out, feeling a little too warm despite the cool morning.  She rested her palms on top of Eve’s.  The woman’s hands were very soft.  When she closed her fingers, Eve’s smaller hands completely disappeared inside her own.

“Are you ready for me to explain the process?”

“Yeah.”

Eve grinned.  “Desire.  That’s it, that’s the process.”

Abigail blinked.  “I’m going to need a little more.”

“You don’t.  Just… imagine what you want to happen.  The way you’re supposed to look.  Then give me that desire.  I’ll do the rest.”

She peered suspiciously at the tiny woman.  “What are you, Eve?”

“A witch, duh.”

Abigail narrowed her eyes.

Eve craned her neck to meet her gaze, her head beneath the level of Abigail’s breasts.  “I’m also a friend, Abby.  If you want that.  Now do you want me to shrink you or not?”

Abigail sighed, and did as she was told.

Five eleven.  Five eleven.  She wanted to be five eleven.  She concentrated on the number.  Let it fill her mind, trying to will herself down, compress her body into those new dimensions.  A tape measure, reading seventy-one inches.  A little less than two yard sticks.

She felt an odd tingling, a tightness in her core.  She could feel herself losing height.  But it was incredibly slow.  Millimeters per minute at best.

“Don’t think,” Eve said.  Her voice was strained, from between clenched teeth.  “Feel.”

“People keep telling me to do that lately.”

“Hush.  This isn’t about numbers, Abby.  Or logic.  It’s the why, and the want.  That’s what I need.”

Abigail struggled for a moment.  Following an order not to think was surprisingly hard.  She decided to picture it, instead.

Sitting in class beside Elijah, at her new proportions.  Friendly, flirty conversation.  She imagined the party, if things went as planned.  The two of them making out in her bedroom.  Chloe.  It was nice to hold her last night.  Dylan.  She should invite him to the party, it was only fair.  She smiled, imagining how he’d react if he could see her now.  Would this be too big for him?  She had a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t.

The wind blew through her short crop of hair.  It really was a lovely morning.  What a view she had from up here.

Far across the park, a young boy was staring at her.  His mouth hung open in amazement.

The boy noticed her watching him.  He grinned, and waved childishly with both hands.

She winked.

“Okay!  I need a second.”  Eve let out a grunt, the sound of someone putting down an enormous weight.  She pulled her hands away, gasping for breath.  She looked even more pale than usual.

Abigail suddenly felt sorry for the witch.  “I didn’t realize this would be so hard for you.”

“Usually it isn’t.  I’m not so good at working magic when the person doesn’t actually want….”  She trailed off.  Then stood, wiping sweat from her face.

“A thought.  What if you had a set of clothes that actually fit?  Shoes too.  Would that change how you feel about….”  She pointed at Abigail, bobbing her finger up and down.  “All this?”

“There’s no way I can afford that, Eve!  I’m way too big.  Custom outfits cost a fortune!”

Eve smirked.  She rested her hand on the small of Abigail’s back, and began to lead the giantess across the park.  “Don’t worry.  I know a girl.”

The tailor’s shop was only a few blocks away.  It was small and unassuming, without even a name – just a small sign in the window advertising clothes for unique body types.  The woman who ran it was stern.  She looked like the kind of person who was an expert at their craft, and didn’t have time for anyone’s nonsense.

If she thought anything about the giantess who had just stepped into her shop, she kept it to herself.

“This is Abigail,” Eve announced.  “She’d like to be fitted for a dress, a pair of shoes, and a bra.”

The tailor went to work without comment.  She pulled out a tape measure, and began to mark off Abigail’s body.  Abby stood still, arms at her side, feeling foolish, yet also elated.  When was the last time someone had measured her for clothes?  Probably when she was a child.

The tailor carefully marked off the dimensions of Abigail’s body, writing the numbers on a worn pad with a tiny golf pencil.  At times the woman had to stand on a small ladder to reach her.

The woman spoke little as she worked.  “Lift,” or, “Arms out.”  At one point she pulled a privacy curtain, and made Abigail undress so she could perform a bra fitting.  This was something Abby was quite certain she’d never done.  The woman told her how to stand, when to take a deep breath, when to exhale.  There was nothing overtly sexual about it.  Yet the process felt oddly grounding, and intimate.

“Let’s start with the shoes,” the woman said, when she had finished.  “I’m not a cobbler.  But I do have a couple pairs of basketball shoes that will fit.  Men’s 20’s and 21’s – they’ll work for now.  There are places online that I can recommend.”

“That’s fine,” Eve said.  “What about her bra?”

“She’s technically a 54C,” the tailor said.  “But if you ever actually see that on a rack, don’t buy it.  It’ll miss some of the nuances of her shape.  I have something.  It’s a little utilitarian….”

“No,” Eve said.  “It needs to be sexy.  She’s going to a party, and there’s a person she wants to impress.”

“When’s the party?”

“Saturday.”

The woman frowned.  “I think I can make that work.  Tell me about this bra.”

Both women turned to Abigail.

She panicked, briefly.  Abigail had never purchased undergarments with the purpose of having them seen.  Everything she had at home was basic white or flesh-toned.

“Lacy.  Black.  Revealing.  Like.  I want to show off a little.  Make people jealous.  Can you do that?”

The woman nodded.  “And there was something about a dress?”

“Green.  Tight.  I want the hemline about here….”  She put her fingertip a hand’s length above her knee.  “And it should complement the bra.  Bare at the shoulders.  I’m not asking too much, am I?”

The tailor looked to Eve.  “The usual rate?”

“The usual rate.”

“I can have it by Saturday.”

The woman scribbled something on an order ticket, and headed into the back room.

“Thank you,” Abigail said, suddenly feeling shy about the witch’s generosity.  “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“I got you into this.  And honestly?  I want to see you succeed, Abby.  On that note – why don’t you pick out another outfit?”

“Off the shelf you mean?  There’s no way anything she’s selling will fit me.”

The witch tenderly took her by the hand, and led her deeper into the store.  “You let me worry about that.  Seriously.  Anything you want.  I can’t have my best customer running around town in a polka-dot bedsheet.”

Once more, she decided to take Eve on faith.  She crouched down, almost dropping her butt to her ankles, and began to flip through a rack of dresses.

“Only.”

When she turned to look, Eve seemed actually shy.  Her hands were folded behind her back, and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other awkwardly.

“For what I have in mind, you’d have to… come back to my place.  Is that okay?  If not I totally get it.”

Abigail smiled.  “Yeah.  It’s okay.”