It was a cold, but promising, June morning. Ruth Stevens pulled the bed clothes around her in defiance of the unexpected chill, then decided that she’d have to face it and got up. Pulling on her dressing gown, she ambled over to the window, opened the curtains and looked out. It was a beautiful and fresh-looking morning outside, with not a cloud in the sky. Her decision to move to the country, in fact this place, was stunningly justified, she thought. Working from home was a great idea, and the occasional trips into the big and smelly and noisy and rushed city seemed a world away when she looked out over the fields and hills – so quiet and peaceful.
Then the stretch began. She arched her back, angled her arms back – bent at the elbow – and heaved. Ahhh, she thought, at peace with the world. She carried on straining, back and upwards. This is strange, she thought quizzically. Stretches don’t normally go on this long.
Then the surge of stretch came, and she felt movement upwards. Her point of view moved upwards, and it took her a moment to realise that she was growing upwards, from her mid-waist. It was a sort-of sexual feeling, combined with a rush of power, and she felt naturally growing. It all felt somehow important to her, and then suddenly it all stopped. She looked down at what she’d done.
She was now about eight feet tall (luckily this was an old house with high ceilings), and had – struggle struggle to get off the dressing gown to have a better look – grown another torso on top of her shoulders, or so it appeared. Not quite, but feeling all over with her four? hands – oh, of course now four breasts too – she felt her new, slightly tottering, form. She was a human with an extended torso above her shoulders, which seemed to work normally despite the extra body above them. Then her spine tingled and she knew that it was growing stronger to handle the extra height and weight.
Ruth turned – wooaahhhh! Leaning against the wall, she held her balance. There was no fear, no Arrrggghhh I’m A Monster followed by sobbing, Ruth just knew that this was the new her, and she instinctively set about getting used to it. It felt right, if a little strange. She’d get used to it. It was her, now. It was a good job her boyfriend was away in Jamaica on business, or there’d be a lot of “Oh no, now look what you’ve done”-type jokes, followed – what a good idea – by sex. Using four hands for extra cuddling and groping would be great. Shame he wouldn’t be home for another week.
The next half-hour was spent just walking around the house, bowing down for the door frames, and generally getting her head around doing things with four hands. She’d rummaged around and dug out an old bra that was almost the same as her current one and made it fit her lower breasts, then got dressed sitting down on the end of the bed. This was easier while she sorted out which pair of arms and hands to do which task as she dressed, and she found she was a very quick learner. Her final problem was finding coverage for her long torso(s), which she solved by using one of her old – and no longer in fashion – super long and baggy T-shirts, in which she cut holes for her lower arms. Better not try heels, she thought with a mental smile, that would push her balance system too far for now. Save it for her boyfriend’s return! He’d just love getting his face lost in four breasts supported in lace!
OK, breakfast over, time to log on and do some work. Ah, problem. She was far too tall for the computer monitor, which couldn’t angle up enough for her. She got a few books out of the old encyclopaedia set she’d inherited from her Granddad and raised it up so she could work with it while sat in her lowered-to-the-lowest-setting office chair. Ruth decided not to tell anyone about this change yet, as she was still coming to terms with it. She disconnected the web cam, just in case, and logged on as normal.
It was becoming fun, typing with her lower arms – good job she was a touch typist – and moving the mouse with her upper writing hand and drinking her coffee with the other. She’d managed to sort out controlling what four arms were doing without too much trouble, and now she didn’t think about it. She just did what she wanted to do, as she had done with just her two arms the day before. This was almost totally automatic and subconscious now, and strangely enjoyable. The only thing that was a bit of a problem was leaning back and her back bending over the top of the back of the chair, causing her to nearly topple over. Again she learned quickly, and sat up straight.
At lunchtime Ruth decided to go for a walk, instead of dining at her computer as she normally would. She logged off and set off, thinking that a) she’d have to go out sometime, and b) she’d have to face the rest of the world sometime as well. Applying her minimal-for-going-out makeup using the mirror on the dresser – sitting on the end of the bed again – she suddenly felt the need to lay backwards on the bed and stretch. Ahhhh, so comfortable, and yet…
When the now-familiar extension to her height had finished taking place, she looked down at her ripped T-shirt – shoulders had grown up and pulled the thing from its lower arm holes – and her new arms and breasts. The new set were free of bra, and she learned the first time what it felt like to have supported and unsupported breasts at the same time. Removing the T-shirt, tearing and ripping was no trouble for the combined strength of six arms, she inspected her extra body. She was over ten feet tall now, and very wobbly on her feet – almost like a pyramid balanced on its point. If this happened again she’d not be able to get out of the house; as it was she was stooping slightly, which couldn’t be good for her extended spine. She had felt her back grow stronger again with the new growth, but surely it could only handle so much before being twisted, or something, and pulling a muscle or worse.
Teetering and wobbling as if on stilts – she’d be snapped up by a circus, she thought – she went to her kitchen to fix lunch. It was then she thought about what was inside her – did she have three hearts? An extra long digestive system? How many ribs did she now have? Her extra rib cages rested on the shoulders below, yet flexing enough to allow those shoulders to work and have almost normal mobility. She felt for her heart(s), and yes she had three, beating away in perfect synchronised time. They seemed as one, the extra power needed to get the blood all the way up to her brain, which was doing some quick learning and changing to accommodate the new additions. She also must have a bigger – or more than one – stomach, she thought as she finished off a huge lunch. Again, it had all seemed so natural, the extra portions and so on. Feeling tired after her meal, Ruth went upstairs to stretch out on the bed for a quick nap. Only by curling up fetal-like could she fit on her double-bed, but she soon fell asleep anyway.
“You’re a monster!” Ruth was being chased by normal people. “Unnatural and obscene! Monster! Freak!” Ruth ran and ran but couldn’t get away from her tormenters. She felt very unstable with her height, running as fast as she could. Something seemed wrong. Something WAS wrong. Still she ran.
Waking up Ruth was covered in sweat and shaking. She went and had a kneeling-down shower, still remembering that image/idea from the dream that something was wrong. She was physically correct – she had no doubt – but… The stretch hit her, and now she had four pairs of breasts and eight arms. She was over twelve feet tall, and could only kneel, then stand, with difficulty. She collapsed to her side on to the bathroom floor, then solved her problem of what was wrong. She ended up on her hands and knees, and it all came together. This was natural. The support for her back came from her many arms, and there was perfect stability. Why hadn’t she thought of this earlier? She had been struggling to keep with her old shape, she realised, when from now on she’d have to get about lower down. It was the only way, apart from some kind of multi-storey baby walker to give her support. This was impractical; she’d have to get about naturally – if having eight arms and getting around on your hands and knees was natural. She smiled mentally again at the bizarreness of her situation – which still felt right for her, despite all the changes. She dried herself off and headed for the bedroom to sort out some clothing.
Again she felt something was wrong – she was fighting something. She couldn’t get the answer, although it felt as if it was on the tip of her tongue. She pulled on some jeans – with good, thick denim at the knees – and grabbed a sheet to turn it into a sort of sarong. Her breasts hung loose, which felt normal, as being held in bras at this angle wouldn’t be comfortable for long, she though. She tried to bring her top/front part of her body up, so her spine folded at her second shoulder down/along. This was to give her posture for her head and upper body that she was used to, otherwise the bending of her neck backwards to give forward vision for so long would give her some aches – and surprisingly, now she thought about it, she’d had no aches and pains. It had all felt natural, especially when she’d ended up on all … tens? An impression of strengthening around the fold of her back, as well as muscles adapting to their new role, told Ruth that she had hit upon the right idea. She put on her original bra for the top breasts – now at the natural (ah, what was natural anyway?) angle again – and set off to the computer room. Even a woman with eight arms had to earn a living!
When another stretch came during her afternoon work it just grew in the middle of her body and made her longer. Some quick cutting with the scissors and she had holes for her new arms. The time taken for her to recover from these episodes was now down to about five minutes. Where would it all end? Still something was wrong though.
The days passed. She ordered deliveries via the internet and slowly amassed twenty arms and breasts. When the delivery man called she said, through the crack in the door, that she couldn’t come out as she had a nasty illness, so could he hand in the thing she had to sign and she’d sign it and give it back. It was then she noticed that she was becoming hairy. It was blonde, like her natural hair, and had grown so slowly and sneakily that she’d not noticed it. Now she was definitely getting covered in blond hair, and before long could go around without any clothes… That’s it! That was what was wrong. Now she was becoming clothed with nature’s dressing. Her whole main body – from her neck to half-way down her legs – was covered, and would soon serve as an aid to decency as well as warmth.
That night, with her (now) ten pairs of walking arms and two manipulating – or normal – arms (plus two legs) she went out under the cover of two-in-the-morning everyone’s-in-bed-except-me darkness and wandered around. She was totally naked, but now that she’d twigged about the hair it had grown rapidly to about eight inches long and then stopped – enough to cover everything up. Again it all felt natural. By the light of the full moon she headed across the fields to… what? She felt as if she was looking for something, but she wouldn’t know it until she found it. Something protective and concealing. After crossing a couple of fields she entered into the wood by the lake. Both she knew well. Nearly there.
Found it! She entered the thick clump of bushes and trees, into the middle where she curled tightly up on herself and slept in a light hollow she’d rapidly created. No trouble working with all those arms digging away! Cocooned in her fortress of thorns and wood, hidden by the greenery, she dreamed.
She was flying over the fields, with a strange jerky and stuttery motion. She was content, and felt the essence of the world flow around her as she flew. Being in the air was as natural to her as walking, but she was still learning. Her body was stretched out behind her – only two legs, held rigidly horizontally with no difficulty, as if they were temporarily locked rigid. Her other arms and torsos had somehow melted back into her, feeding her change. She was now…
Ruth awoke, and fought to get out of her imprisoning cocoon. Then she felt the need for space above her, and crawled out of her home – for how long? It didn’t matter – and into an opening in the forest, where she stretched. Her butterfly wings unfolded out above her; slowly, uncertainly, beautifully. Then they fell flopped to each side of her, still moist, and slowly filled with blood and the lightweight bones hardened to form the shape of her multi-coloured wings. She lay panting in the sun that filtered through the trees as this happened, all her strength going into getting her wings just right. They weren’t heavy, but feeling them gingerly with her hands – only two! – they felt tough and durable. She was still hairy, though, but that was all right.
Then she felt it was time, so she arched her back and spread her wings out and upwards. They bit at the air immediately and she felt herself lifted – how could they do this without ripping open her back, she thought briefly – gently up into the trees. Immediately she thought about crashing into branches and she stopped and fluttered. Again, how do those wings move so fast and yet be strong enough to support me? She settled back down on to the ground, standing, and walked out of the forest naked and unafraid.
Then Ruth Stevens took off again, and into a new life.
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