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Ben's heart pounded as he heard the now-familiar sound of deep, thunderous impacts on the sidewalk outside his room. His parents, who had made it clear that they thought Charlotte was a "bad influence," no longer bothered admonishing at him, anymore, though they must have heard her, too, and must have known that he was sneaking out of the fire escape to be with her. He guessed that they'd given up at this point. His mother sometimes cried that "she'd lost her son" to "one of those things," while his father just shook his head. Ben only hoped that Charlotte never heard his mother talk like that. She was a sweet girl, really, once you got past the fact that she could crush large rocks underneath her bare feet. But the neighbors still didn't like Charlotte coming by to pick Ben up. He could already hear Mrs. Carow muttering barely-disguised profanities as she walked into the building. Public opinion hadn't improved at all when the law passed saying that HERS women weren't legally required to wear a top. It was argued that due to their incredible metabolism, HERS women's body temperatures ran so hot that it was "cruel" to force them to cover themselves at the "real risk of their health." Ben hadn't seen Charlotte wear a bra or a top since. She had, however, had her nipples pierced, and almost never left the house without wearing some kind of jewelry to emphasize and highlight the enormous girth of her breasts. The brazen display of two four-hundred pound breasts wobbling ten feet in the air certainly provoked impassioned responses, for better and for worse.

But Ben knew that they just didn't understand. Charlotte couldn't help being what she was. A year and a half ago, Ben vaguely remembered seeing Charlotte in the sociology course they both took. As much as he was enamored with her now, he had to admit that he'd barely noticed her back then. She'd been five foot four, a little pear-shaped, and had a penchant for faux tortoise-shell hair clasps and long, baggy skirts that covered her ankles. That was the old Charlotte. The new Charlotte was undoubtedly the most exciting thing in Ben's life. Their relationship had started in earnest when Charlotte had been a HERS woman for only a few weeks. She was still a bit uncertain about her size, and was obviously uncomfortable asking for what she needed. Despite being well over ten feet tall, she hadn't quite grown into herself. She hadn't yet understood what she was. When she happened upon the little diner where Ben worked part time, he knew that what she'd ordered was hopelessly inadequate. So Ben put a hundred dollar bill in the register, called in a favor from the cook, and Ben could never forget the blissful look on Charlotte's face when she realized that Ben wasn't going to stop bringing her food until she was full. Charlotte couldn't even remember the last time she was full, and she couldn't believe that he could see that in her, somehow. After making up for what was clearly an insufficient caloric intake, Charlotte had asked Ben for his number, and the relationship grew faster than either could have imagined.

It was hard to believe that that unsure girl in Ben's sociology class was the same incredible, awe-inspiring woman that he knew now. Charlotte's self-confidence had caught up with her size and then some. It was like Ben had opened a door for her, a door that, once crossed, allowed Charlotte to see herself and the world lucidly for the first time since she became a HERS woman. She was large. Powerful. And why should she pretend otherwise? Embracing her new self meant embracing her full size, her full strength, and no longer being too self-conscious to find satisfaction.

Six months after her transformation, when Charlotte realized that she was still growing, part of her knew that she should be horrified. Her clothing had grown beyond the point of tight, and was now comically undersized. Her furniture, designed to hold a ten-foot tall woman that weighed as much as a compact car, started to show premature signs of wear. Most obviously, her shoes didn't fit. And, with the exception of an increasingly narrow part of her conscience that still clung to old proprieties, Charlotte hummed with delight. That new, primal instinct she had given into hadn't let her down. She was still growing into herself, she had more to come--much more. Ben kept her fed like it was his job. And when Charlotte registered with the local county as an eleven foot, two-inch tall HERS woman, Charlotte found both of their efforts rewarded with yet more government support. Unlike some of her HERS friends, however, Charlotte didn't upgrade to an enormous, triple-story loft apartment. Instead, she used almost all of the extra money to help fund Ben's graduate studies in nutrition. They were going to start a HERS-focused food and supplements company, with Charlotte as face of the company and the living, expansive proof of the legitimacy of its claims. Ben was already developing some special smoothies and pills that stimulated the HERS woman's metabolism, which tricked the dormant HERS virus into a semi-active state, triggering even further growth. And if anyone doubted the efficacy of the drinks cooked up in a grad-student's apartment, they had only to look at Charlotte for proof. She was up an inch in the last month alone.

Description
Ben's heart pounded as he heard the now-familiar sound of deep, thunderous impacts on the sidewalk outside his room. His parents, who had made it clear that they thought Charlotte was a "bad influence," no longer bothered admonishing at him, anymore, though they must have heard her, too, and must have known that he was sneaking out of the fire escape to be with her. He guessed that they'd given up at this point. His mother sometimes cried that "she'd lost her son" to "one of those things," while his father just shook his head. Ben only hoped that Charlotte never heard his mother talk like that. She was a sweet girl, really, once you got past the fact that she could crush large rocks underneath her bare feet. But the neighbors still didn't like Charlotte coming by to pick Ben up. He could already hear Mrs. Carow muttering barely-disguised profanities as she walked into the building. Public opinion hadn't improved at all when the law passed saying that HERS women weren't legally required to wear a top. It was argued that due to their incredible metabolism, HERS women's body temperatures ran so hot that it was "cruel" to force them to cover themselves at the "real risk of their health." Ben hadn't seen Charlotte wear a bra or a top since. She had, however, had her nipples pierced, and almost never left the house without wearing some kind of jewelry to emphasize and highlight the enormous girth of her breasts. The brazen display of two four-hundred pound breasts wobbling ten feet in the air certainly provoked impassioned responses, for better and for worse.

But Ben knew that they just didn't understand. Charlotte couldn't help being what she was. A year and a half ago, Ben vaguely remembered seeing Charlotte in the sociology course they both took. As much as he was enamored with her now, he had to admit that he'd barely noticed her back then. She'd been five foot four, a little pear-shaped, and had a penchant for faux tortoise-shell hair clasps and long, baggy skirts that covered her ankles. That was the old Charlotte. The new Charlotte was undoubtedly the most exciting thing in Ben's life. Their relationship had started in earnest when Charlotte had been a HERS woman for only a few weeks. She was still a bit uncertain about her size, and was obviously uncomfortable asking for what she needed. Despite being well over ten feet tall, she hadn't quite grown into herself. She hadn't yet understood what she was. When she happened upon the little diner where Ben worked part time, he knew that what she'd ordered was hopelessly inadequate. So Ben put a hundred dollar bill in the register, called in a favor from the cook, and Ben could never forget the blissful look on Charlotte's face when she realized that Ben wasn't going to stop bringing her food until she was full. Charlotte couldn't even remember the last time she was full, and she couldn't believe that he could see that in her, somehow. After making up for what was clearly an insufficient caloric intake, Charlotte had asked Ben for his number, and the relationship grew faster than either could have imagined.

It was hard to believe that that unsure girl in Ben's sociology class was the same incredible, awe-inspiring woman that he knew now. Charlotte's self-confidence had caught up with her size and then some. It was like Ben had opened a door for her, a door that, once crossed, allowed Charlotte to see herself and the world lucidly for the first time since she became a HERS woman. She was large. Powerful. And why should she pretend otherwise? Embracing her new self meant embracing her full size, her full strength, and no longer being too self-conscious to find satisfaction.

Six months after her transformation, when Charlotte realized that she was still growing, part of her knew that she should be horrified. Her clothing had grown beyond the point of tight, and was now comically undersized. Her furniture, designed to hold a ten-foot tall woman that weighed as much as a compact car, started to show premature signs of wear. Most obviously, her shoes didn't fit. And, with the exception of an increasingly narrow part of her conscience that still clung to old proprieties, Charlotte hummed with delight. That new, primal instinct she had given into hadn't let her down. She was still growing into herself, she had more to come--much more. Ben kept her fed like it was his job. And when Charlotte registered with the local county as an eleven foot, two-inch tall HERS woman, Charlotte found both of their efforts rewarded with yet more government support. Unlike some of her HERS friends, however, Charlotte didn't upgrade to an enormous, triple-story loft apartment. Instead, she used almost all of the extra money to help fund Ben's graduate studies in nutrition. They were going to start a HERS-focused food and supplements company, with Charlotte as face of the company and the living, expansive proof of the legitimacy of its claims. Ben was already developing some special smoothies and pills that stimulated the HERS woman's metabolism, which tricked the dormant HERS virus into a semi-active state, triggering even further growth. And if anyone doubted the efficacy of the drinks cooked up in a grad-student's apartment, they had only to look at Charlotte for proof. She was up an inch in the last month alone.