Bridie Hyding 02

Plum

Bridie lay on her bed so her track suit bottoms wouldn’t keep falling down. The folds of her favourite t-shirt – just plain navy blue, nothing special, but the one she never forgot to wash so it was always ready – completely engulfed her now.

Once, she was seven foot tall and had a muscular, athletic physique. Now, she was five foot two and actually a bit on the skinny side. A couple of weeks ago, half on purpose, half not, she had changed her body from the former to the latter. Since then, she had made a daily attempt to reverse that transformation. Lying there, staring at the ceiling, Bridie was about

to start today’s try.

There had been a light inside her. No, a fire, a nuclear explosion of energy that had made her extraordinary, made her more than the unremarkable human slumped on her bed. But, like breathing and blinking, it was something that she had always been aware of but had paid very little attention to. And like those other constant companions, it was only when she stopped, when she snuffed it out, that she realised what a fundamental part of her it was. But while she could reopen firmly closed eyes and release long held breath, no matter what she did the fire inside simply would not reignite.

She imagined an explosion inside herself, her body instantly filling the baggy clothes she wore in the hope of welcoming back the old her.  She flexed her biceps and stretched out her legs, urging them to expand beyond their puny limits. Maybe it was like starting a car; if she could just get things moving the engine would spark into life. Or there was a magic word. She knew colleagues who summoned transformations with a single word or gave a battle cry as they changed. If she cleared her mind and just said the first thing that came into it, then maybe all that missing power would flood forth from her unconscious. She tensed her body even further and yelled out without thinking: -

‘PLUM!’

She immediately relaxed her body and tried to melt into the bed, taking some comfort in the fact that there was nobody there to see how embarrassed she was.

Plum?

Where had that come from? If Bridie had somehow managed to tap into the secrets of the universe, they were a bit more underwhelming than she was expecting. And fruitier.

Resigned to another failure, she sighed and swung her legs off the bed, twisting into a sitting position. As she stood up, her outsize leggings fell to her ankles, bringing to mind the moment when she’d first changed, when she’d waved goodbye to all the power she’d once possessed.

To hell with them. To hell with Ban Mor, the overrated amazonian superheroine she used to be. Bridie was going to put the kettle on. She stepped out of the bunched track suit bottoms and kicked them across the room in frustration. Off she went, bare-legged, her giant t-shirt hanging about her like a nightgown. She tried to avoid the feeble reflection she didn’t want to see in the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door. Opening it quickly, she dashed through before it could distract her, and closed it behind her with a slam.

She reopened it a second later.

Gingerly, she popped her head back around the door, peering into the mirror at something that had caught her eye despite her best efforts.

.

‘Plum...’ she said softly to herself.

How had she forgotten that? The nickname her mother had given her when she was little - not that she'd ever been little_- even as a girl she had been big. Her eleven year old self would have dwarfed her current stature. But her mam had still called her "Wee Plum" even after she had begun to tower over her. “Wee Plum", because of her bright purple hair. Purple hair that had been missing for the last few weeks but had somehow reappeared just now. And it wasn't the only thing that had returned.

Birdie was aware of a sensation she hadn't experienced for a long time.  Weak, only a keen ache buried deep inside. But it was definitely there, and what was more, she knew she could do something with it.

She clenched her right fist, and tensed the muscles in her forearm. Simultaneously, she breathed in deeply, expanding her chest and focusing on that sharp pinprick of heat deep within.

'I'm sorry I hid you away,' said Bridie's first flex. 'I've missed you and would love you to come back. To come out.’ She raised her biceps to emphasise her wish. 'To be amazing again.’

With a certainty she hadn’t felt in a long time, Bridie knew what was about to happen. Gently tensing one, then both, arms she smiled as she saw their muscles growing. With the increase in physical effort came an intensifying of the heat she felt inside. Only instead of burning it manifested itself as an incredible pressure. Pressure that Bridie joyfully exploited as she impatiently set about transforming the body she’d been trapped in.

She made a show of planting her feet firmly on the floor: bam, bam! Then she pushed downward and was instantly rewarded with a sensuous shifting growth. Calves swelled, thighs thickened, bones and muscles lengthened. Bridie was slowly getting taller.

Slower than she wanted, though. She arched her back, tightening its muscles and her spine responded. Her t-shirt rode up as her height increased further. Rode up and grew taut as her trunk thickened with each little push she gave. Abs gained impossible definition with a couple of short breaths; shoulders became steel hard with a controlled grunt. The deepest breath yet brought the return of her magnificent chest. She threw her arms back and resisted the temptation to tear off her inadequate tee. How wonderful that she had seriously underestimated the size she had once been.

It felt incredible.

Then, the only thing that surprised her as she changed. A series of shivers overcame her, goosebumps covering her in every direction. At first it was difficult to make out what was happening, but as Bridie’s body mass increased it became apparent what was actually taking place. Her skin was reacting to the changes underneath it, becoming, not harder, but more durable. Recent bruises and papercuts were forgotten as Bridie stroked her midriff and delighted in knowing it would stop a bullet.

Push, and her feet expanded. Push, and her hands grew, Push, and her skinny, pointed face smiled a fond farewell, replaced with the fuller, toned features of the superheroine, Ban Mor.

She was back.

‘I am never doing that again,’ she promised herself. Then she flopped back onto her bed, intending to mimic her posture from earlier by way of contrast with that smaller, unhappier figure. When it collapsed under all the unexpected weight, Bridie was delighted. She lay there, laughing among its shattered remains.

Huge, seven-foot tall laughs.