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Description
Naked feet slapped the ground.  A hoarse throat gasped for air.  A headlong rush for a junction, she turned to the right.  Fearful panic at the realization it was a dead end.  Would they catch her?  Was this the end?  Turn back, slight reprieve.  No,  men were here yet.  Rush headlong down the other corridor.

Exit sign spotted, slightly lifting her spirits, letting some of the dread percolate off of her.  Escape was possible, she could get out of this situation.  She busted through the door to a dank concrete stairwell, and paused.  Out of air.  She shut the door behind her as she sucked down lungful after lungful of breath, as if she couldn't get enough.  As if her lungs were too small.

The old abandoned hotel was labyrinthine.  In the back of her mind, questions abounded about how customers could ever bump into their rooms.  But there were no customers now, just her, and her pursuers, and that woman.  That woman, what had she done?

She looked down at her own right arm.  It was spreading, spreading fast.  What had started as a small drop of white had spread, not unlike a spill of milk on the kitchen floor.  White hair covered her entire forearm and continued to move both along her hand and up towards her shoulder.  If she concentrated hard enough, it was actually possible to see the progress.

A hospital was her intended destination.  Plans of escape already floated through her head.  Lists of various clinics made their way through her brain, the closest one to Central Park east, the closest one to Coney Island,  the list of ones in the Bronx.

A strange sensation broke her out of her stupor.  The infection of hair had made it's way up to her shoulder and weaseled it's way inside her T-shirt sleeve.  The feeling of hair actually growing underneath her shirt reminded her of the severity of the situation.  Her lungs recharged, she leapt from the landing.

A moment's reprieve in the air.  Sailing through time and space, she was unaffected by anything but gravity.  But that too, was almost an illusion.  For a moment, she was weightless, in free fall.  Only the image of the next landing down rushing to meet her informed her that she was still weighted.  Still tied to earth.  What if her eyes deceived her?  What if she was floating?  That idea set well with her, resonated with her, reverberated within her.  It felt right.

She hit the next landing down hard, a loud slap billowing throughout the stairway.  A moment's recovery, a fraction of a second to fear that her pursuers had heard her, and she readied for the next vault.

Again came the brief feeling of levity, the brief reprieve, before she hit the next landing down.  Another jump, again the feeling of floating, another hard landing.  And another, and another.  She continued down the stairwell, her legs sore from landing so often on the concrete.  But she didn't care.  She all but lost herself in the feeling of floatation, on the brief instances of perceived flight before hitting the next landing.  The back of her head subtly poking at her, reminding her of the predicament, wondering why this was so exciting, but she was lost to this logic.  Something had taken hold of her, some instinct, some primordial feeling of flight.

At last, she hit the end of the line.  Behind her, the stairs, ahead of her, a single metal door.  There was a moment's pause.  The feeling was gone, no more flights of fancy.  There was an impulse, a yearning to once again ascend the stairs, to feel the joys of free-fall once again, but her brain re-asserted itself, wresting control from her animalistic, instinctual side.

A second strange feeling at the side of her waist snapped her back to reality.  She tugged at her pants, and a quick glance at the area revealed that the hair had already reached her midsection, and was beginning to creep its way down her leg.  A renewed vigor surged through her, and again she took off, plowing her way through the closed door into the unknown.

An underground parking lot.  She was in the hotel's carpark.  All she had to do was find the entry or exit ramp and she was free.  She was free.  It was as if a great weight had been lifted from her.  The smell of oil, stale air, and car exhaust had never been so sweet.  She began a light jog, looking through the murky darkness, trying to find the exit.  The few lights that worked only barely illuminated the parking lot, casting slivers of light and shadows everywhere.  It was all but impossible to see, like trying to navigate a maze by starlight.

As she jogged, something felt wrong again.  Momentarily, she thought that all the jumping had somehow bunched her panties, and she ignored it, but the feeling persisted, became more pronounced.  Something near her loins felt wrong, as if the skin of the front of her waist was raw, like her panties were digging into them.

She moved behind a concrete pillar so that any pursuers couldn't see her, and tried to re-adjust her pants, but the moment she did, electricity surged throughout her body, weakening her knees and flooding her body with emotions.

Carefully, curiously, gingerly, she undid the buttons on her jeans and lifted up her T shirt, eyes peering into the offending area.  To her amazement, the hair hadn't grown near her waist or stomach, leaving a oval of pink skin, which was beginning to bulge. Entranced, she tenderly placed her palm over the area.  Again, the feeling surged inside of her, not quite pain and not quite pleasure, but something that balanced on the knife's edge in-between.

The surge of emotions somehow caused the area to bulge, and there were now four smaller bumps protruding out of the area.  A large balloon growing four smaller balloons.  There was a tightness in her chest, tears welling up inside her.  What had she become, what was happening to her?  The fear of the unknown and the impossible threatened to wrest the last bit of reason from her mind.

Another surge hit, this time without the presence of her hand.  Eyes closed, her legs buckled and she hit the concrete floor with her knees, managing to catch herself before falling face first.  A powerful new pain gripped her chest, and she opened her eyes to find that she could no longer survey her stomach, because her chest had grown so large as to completely obstruct her view.  In fact, it was so large that her bra was digging into her breasts painfully.  Without thinking, she reached behind her and undid the clasp.  Immediately, her breasts ballooned forward pneumatically, immediately stretching out her shirt.  But not only were they larger, they also seemed to act . . . differently.  As if the pull of the earth didn't care so much about them.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized these only made the problems worse, and that she very much needed to get out and find a hospital.  She jumped to her feet, but even this minor actions had repercussions.  Not only did her unbuttoned pants not follow her, crumpling down to her feet, but it also caused her now plus-sized body to jiggle around, causing another surge.

The growth was noticeable everywhere.  She could actually see her arms puff up, and feel her buttocks expand.  Her breasts reached the limit of her cotton tee, and beneath them, she could feel the mysterious pink area expand.

She tried to take a step forward, but her legs hit some snag.  She remembered her pants down by her ankles, and realized they'd need to be pulled up or removed if she was ever to get out of this.  Desperately, panic stricken, she gingerly tried to do a leg squat, trying to pull up the pants that she could no longer see, but it was all for naught, ass soon as her massive mamories began pushing into her stomach, there came another surge.

This was a massive surge, more powerful, primal, than all before it.  She could feel her legs inflating, resisting their position, pushing her upwards.  Her arms continued to billow out along with the rest of her, forcing her body to resemble a starfish.  But the more her legs tried to spread apart, the more the pants around her legs resisted.  The force of her thighs pushing each other apart countered by the pants keeping her ankles together pushed her body into a strange position.  An impossible position.  She flailed her arms wildly, trying to regain her balance, but it was to no avail, she fell forward.

The fall was slow, impossibly slow.  She fell under moon gravity.  Grogilly, she tried to figure out what was happening, but through all the surges and the new feelings and the impossibility of it all, it was as if she was in a mental fog.

Eventually, she could feel her stomach touch the concrete and compress, like a balloon caught between a hand and the floor.  Another surge hit.  The force from the expansion causing all parts of her body to billow out.  Her new, larger stomach gained girth, pushing against the ground and it sprung her back, sending her  on a trip, floating into the air.

She continued to gain altitude for a time, a long heartbeat.  A moment stretched out to infinity in her mind.  How far she floated upward she could not guess, an inch?  Three?  Six?  Finally, she stopped her journey upwards and hung in the air for just a moment before slowly, lazily, descending back down to earth.

Again, her stomach hit the floor, but this time softer, just a small bump.  The surge was smaller, but nonetheless noticeable.   And then, again, the slow bounce upwards, but this time smoother, and less pronounced.  Finally, she came down again, just barely scraping the concrete, giving one final kiss farewell to the ground.

Slowly, she began to rise once again, but this time felt different.  As she rose, there was no slowing. Gravity had completely abandoned her.  She ascended at at a snails pace, but almost imperceptibly faster with each passing moment.  Weakly affected by negative gravity.  Buoyant. . . impossibly. . . floating.  At last, her back bumped against the ceiling.  Unlike with the floor, there was no bounce, no rebound, she simply came to rest on the inverted floor of the parking lot, like some errant helium balloon.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, through the fog of emotions and questions and fear, she heard footsteps approaching.

Description
Naked feet slapped the ground.  A hoarse throat gasped for air.  A headlong rush for a junction, she turned to the right.  Fearful panic at the realization it was a dead end.  Would they catch her?  Was this the end?  Turn back, slight reprieve.  No,  men were here yet.  Rush headlong down the other corridor.

Exit sign spotted, slightly lifting her spirits, letting some of the dread percolate off of her.  Escape was possible, she could get out of this situation.  She busted through the door to a dank concrete stairwell, and paused.  Out of air.  She shut the door behind her as she sucked down lungful after lungful of breath, as if she couldn't get enough.  As if her lungs were too small.

The old abandoned hotel was labyrinthine.  In the back of her mind, questions abounded about how customers could ever bump into their rooms.  But there were no customers now, just her, and her pursuers, and that woman.  That woman, what had she done?

She looked down at her own right arm.  It was spreading, spreading fast.  What had started as a small drop of white had spread, not unlike a spill of milk on the kitchen floor.  White hair covered her entire forearm and continued to move both along her hand and up towards her shoulder.  If she concentrated hard enough, it was actually possible to see the progress.

A hospital was her intended destination.  Plans of escape already floated through her head.  Lists of various clinics made their way through her brain, the closest one to Central Park east, the closest one to Coney Island,  the list of ones in the Bronx.

A strange sensation broke her out of her stupor.  The infection of hair had made it's way up to her shoulder and weaseled it's way inside her T-shirt sleeve.  The feeling of hair actually growing underneath her shirt reminded her of the severity of the situation.  Her lungs recharged, she leapt from the landing.

A moment's reprieve in the air.  Sailing through time and space, she was unaffected by anything but gravity.  But that too, was almost an illusion.  For a moment, she was weightless, in free fall.  Only the image of the next landing down rushing to meet her informed her that she was still weighted.  Still tied to earth.  What if her eyes deceived her?  What if she was floating?  That idea set well with her, resonated with her, reverberated within her.  It felt right.

She hit the next landing down hard, a loud slap billowing throughout the stairway.  A moment's recovery, a fraction of a second to fear that her pursuers had heard her, and she readied for the next vault.

Again came the brief feeling of levity, the brief reprieve, before she hit the next landing down.  Another jump, again the feeling of floating, another hard landing.  And another, and another.  She continued down the stairwell, her legs sore from landing so often on the concrete.  But she didn't care.  She all but lost herself in the feeling of floatation, on the brief instances of perceived flight before hitting the next landing.  The back of her head subtly poking at her, reminding her of the predicament, wondering why this was so exciting, but she was lost to this logic.  Something had taken hold of her, some instinct, some primordial feeling of flight.

At last, she hit the end of the line.  Behind her, the stairs, ahead of her, a single metal door.  There was a moment's pause.  The feeling was gone, no more flights of fancy.  There was an impulse, a yearning to once again ascend the stairs, to feel the joys of free-fall once again, but her brain re-asserted itself, wresting control from her animalistic, instinctual side.

A second strange feeling at the side of her waist snapped her back to reality.  She tugged at her pants, and a quick glance at the area revealed that the hair had already reached her midsection, and was beginning to creep its way down her leg.  A renewed vigor surged through her, and again she took off, plowing her way through the closed door into the unknown.

An underground parking lot.  She was in the hotel's carpark.  All she had to do was find the entry or exit ramp and she was free.  She was free.  It was as if a great weight had been lifted from her.  The smell of oil, stale air, and car exhaust had never been so sweet.  She began a light jog, looking through the murky darkness, trying to find the exit.  The few lights that worked only barely illuminated the parking lot, casting slivers of light and shadows everywhere.  It was all but impossible to see, like trying to navigate a maze by starlight.

As she jogged, something felt wrong again.  Momentarily, she thought that all the jumping had somehow bunched her panties, and she ignored it, but the feeling persisted, became more pronounced.  Something near her loins felt wrong, as if the skin of the front of her waist was raw, like her panties were digging into them.

She moved behind a concrete pillar so that any pursuers couldn't see her, and tried to re-adjust her pants, but the moment she did, electricity surged throughout her body, weakening her knees and flooding her body with emotions.

Carefully, curiously, gingerly, she undid the buttons on her jeans and lifted up her T shirt, eyes peering into the offending area.  To her amazement, the hair hadn't grown near her waist or stomach, leaving a oval of pink skin, which was beginning to bulge. Entranced, she tenderly placed her palm over the area.  Again, the feeling surged inside of her, not quite pain and not quite pleasure, but something that balanced on the knife's edge in-between.

The surge of emotions somehow caused the area to bulge, and there were now four smaller bumps protruding out of the area.  A large balloon growing four smaller balloons.  There was a tightness in her chest, tears welling up inside her.  What had she become, what was happening to her?  The fear of the unknown and the impossible threatened to wrest the last bit of reason from her mind.

Another surge hit, this time without the presence of her hand.  Eyes closed, her legs buckled and she hit the concrete floor with her knees, managing to catch herself before falling face first.  A powerful new pain gripped her chest, and she opened her eyes to find that she could no longer survey her stomach, because her chest had grown so large as to completely obstruct her view.  In fact, it was so large that her bra was digging into her breasts painfully.  Without thinking, she reached behind her and undid the clasp.  Immediately, her breasts ballooned forward pneumatically, immediately stretching out her shirt.  But not only were they larger, they also seemed to act . . . differently.  As if the pull of the earth didn't care so much about them.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized these only made the problems worse, and that she very much needed to get out and find a hospital.  She jumped to her feet, but even this minor actions had repercussions.  Not only did her unbuttoned pants not follow her, crumpling down to her feet, but it also caused her now plus-sized body to jiggle around, causing another surge.

The growth was noticeable everywhere.  She could actually see her arms puff up, and feel her buttocks expand.  Her breasts reached the limit of her cotton tee, and beneath them, she could feel the mysterious pink area expand.

She tried to take a step forward, but her legs hit some snag.  She remembered her pants down by her ankles, and realized they'd need to be pulled up or removed if she was ever to get out of this.  Desperately, panic stricken, she gingerly tried to do a leg squat, trying to pull up the pants that she could no longer see, but it was all for naught, ass soon as her massive mamories began pushing into her stomach, there came another surge.

This was a massive surge, more powerful, primal, than all before it.  She could feel her legs inflating, resisting their position, pushing her upwards.  Her arms continued to billow out along with the rest of her, forcing her body to resemble a starfish.  But the more her legs tried to spread apart, the more the pants around her legs resisted.  The force of her thighs pushing each other apart countered by the pants keeping her ankles together pushed her body into a strange position.  An impossible position.  She flailed her arms wildly, trying to regain her balance, but it was to no avail, she fell forward.

The fall was slow, impossibly slow.  She fell under moon gravity.  Grogilly, she tried to figure out what was happening, but through all the surges and the new feelings and the impossibility of it all, it was as if she was in a mental fog.

Eventually, she could feel her stomach touch the concrete and compress, like a balloon caught between a hand and the floor.  Another surge hit.  The force from the expansion causing all parts of her body to billow out.  Her new, larger stomach gained girth, pushing against the ground and it sprung her back, sending her  on a trip, floating into the air.

She continued to gain altitude for a time, a long heartbeat.  A moment stretched out to infinity in her mind.  How far she floated upward she could not guess, an inch?  Three?  Six?  Finally, she stopped her journey upwards and hung in the air for just a moment before slowly, lazily, descending back down to earth.

Again, her stomach hit the floor, but this time softer, just a small bump.  The surge was smaller, but nonetheless noticeable.   And then, again, the slow bounce upwards, but this time smoother, and less pronounced.  Finally, she came down again, just barely scraping the concrete, giving one final kiss farewell to the ground.

Slowly, she began to rise once again, but this time felt different.  As she rose, there was no slowing. Gravity had completely abandoned her.  She ascended at at a snails pace, but almost imperceptibly faster with each passing moment.  Weakly affected by negative gravity.  Buoyant. . . impossibly. . . floating.  At last, her back bumped against the ceiling.  Unlike with the floor, there was no bounce, no rebound, she simply came to rest on the inverted floor of the parking lot, like some errant helium balloon.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, through the fog of emotions and questions and fear, she heard footsteps approaching.