Carol

Carol hadn’t meant to nearly double her height. The serum had been supposed to increase biological elasticity in controlled bursts. A theoretical breakthrough in adaptive growth engineering. Instead, after one tiny calibration mistake and a lab accident involving a cracked coolant line, she’d gone from tall… to needing to crawl through her own front door. At first she’d been mortified. Every doorway too short. Every countertop too low. Every hug dangerous unless she was careful. But then her fiancé kept looking at her like that. Like she was beautiful. And somewhere between him helping her untangle herself from the kitchen ceiling light and absentmindedly rubbing her shoulders while she crouched beside the couch, Carol started to feel… confident. Maybe even pretty. Which was dangerous. Because now she sat in her lab wearing an oversized cardigan that barely fit anymore, staring at a small vial of shimmering blue serum rolling between her fingers. “If the proportional scaling works on someone with a normal baseline…” she mumbled to herself, chewing softly on her lip before catching herself and smiling instead. “Then theoretically he’d adapt just fine…” Her face warmed. The thought of him taller. Broader. Big enough she wouldn’t have to fold herself in half every time she wanted a hug. Big enough to hold her down against the couch instead of the other way around. Carol buried her burning face in her hands with a squeak. “O-okay maybe not for scientific reasons entirely…” The problem wasn’t whether she wanted to dose him. The problem was how to do it without immediately giving herself away. Carol was a terrible liar. She giggled when nervous, fidgeted constantly, and absolutely could not maintain eye contact while being sneaky. Which meant casually handing her husband a glowing experimental drink without acting suspicious was rapidly becoming the hardest challenge of her scientific career.