At the rate I was growing, we all agreed that I should probably stay at the facility, rather than go home. It would have been nice to be surrounded by my family again; however, since I was still growing, the house would soon become unliveable for me. Hell, I had to move to a different part of the facility, because doorframes were becoming too low for me.
Eight days after this started, I was seven feet tall. Even Dad had to look up to me, now, when they came for their visit. "Are you feeling alright, Summer?" Dad asked.
"As well as can be expected, I guess," I replied. "I mean, apart from becoming a freak."
"Don't talk that way, sweetie," Mom said.
"But it's true," I retorted. "Isn't it? Do any of you know anyone who's as big as I am? If you do: Are they getting bigger?
"Look at this," I said, indicating the blanket I was wearing tied around my waist. "Do you know what this is for? I'm outgrowing my hospital gowns, that's what it's for. If I sit down without this, you all get a good look at my nether regions."
"Well," Mom said, "that, at least, is something we can help with."
"What do you mean?" Given my expansion, I was unused to the concept of someone being able to help me.
"Sam had an idea," Mom said, lifting some paper bags to the table. "And we talked them into giving us some extra time today." Mom started pulling bedsheets out of the bags. "We're going to make you some clothes."
Dad stood up. "On that note, I'll wait outside. I don't need to see you getting measured or dressed."
Once he was out of the room, Mom pulled out a tape measure. "Let's take care of our initial fitting."
I took off the blanket and too-small gown. Mom got onto a chair and measured me. "Looks like the girls are growing, too."
"Right along with the rest of me," I confirmed. I had had a bit more to spare up top, perhaps to make up for being short; now, though, my breasts were positively ginormous.
Mom called out my measurements, and Sam and Becca went to work on the sheets; Sam was working on the linen sheets, while Becca worked with satin. "What are you doing?" I asked.
"Making your new clothes," Sam replied. "I'm working on dresses."
"And I'm making your underwear," Becca added. "Mom insisted we use satin for that, since it would be more comfortable for you."
"I don't mean to sound ungrateful," I said, "but won't I just outgrow these?"
"We're taking your growth into account," Sam replied. "These clothes will be adjustable; you could grow to ten feet, and not need a new wardrobe."
"Of course," I said, "that's just 12 days away."
"But you'll have these until then," Sam said. "A little breathing room could do wonders for you."
When they were done, they insisted that I show off my new clothes. Dad was brought in, since I was decent again. I complied.
I've got to give my sisters credit; my new clothes fit, and they fit well. I felt like a person again, dressed in a bra, panties, and a knee-length one-piece dress.
When my family left for the day, I was in a better mood than I'd been in in a long time. Wearing actual clothes, I felt like a person again, if an uncommonly large one.
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