But even as Angela backed away from the empty carton, she felt her stomach rumble. She eyed the fridge nervously.

I have to stop.

She took a step closer.

I need to get help.

Saliva filled her mouth in anticipation.

I need to call Donovan.

She opened the door to the refrigerator and immediately descended on its contents. Left-overs, milk, a block of cheese, anything she could get her hands on. She tore off packaging with her teeth, threw empty containers behind her, and groaned in a mix of pleasure and horror with every bite. She fought with her brain, first to stop her consumption, then to ignore it. She was disgusted with herself as she bit into sticks of butter and scooped mayo out of the jar and into her mouth.

Oh, but it tastes good, doesn't it?

"No," she whimpered between mouthfuls. "No!"

She could feel her stomach stretch as she ate. Surely this would be enough, right? She had eaten so much already. Why wasn't she full?

But there was a growing pressure elsewhere. Her belly, typically just a bit soft, began to press into the waistline of her pants. She could feel her underwear riding up as her butt slowly began to expand. In fact, all of her clothes seemed to be getting tighter. Her blouse was both rising up, revealing more of her midriff, and fighting against their buttons to stay closed. Even her shoes, a pair of black flats, were becoming uncomfortable.

When at last the fridge was empty, Angela stood up and was shocked at what she saw: she was taller. Everything looked shorter now. Somehow, her body wasn't just converting food into fat, but it was making her grow all over!

Trembling, she walked into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Her clothing was covered in bits of food, but was also straining at every stitch to hold her newly-enlarged figure in. She estimated that she was at least six inches taller than she was before, at least six feet tall in total. Her breasts peeked immodestly out of her top, overflowing her bra and threatening to pop off the top button of her shirt. Her slacks were painfully tight, and as she unbuttoned them, her soft gut flowed out. She wasn't fat, exactly, but she was thicker than before, and she found it oddly pleasing. In fact, under different circumstances, she might have been pleased with the way her body was taking shape.

However, this was cause for even more panic. Adults didn't grow like this, not even in rare medical cases of gigantism. Something was clearly wrong with glutaryloxyacetate, and Angela knew what she needed to do.