Passages
As the ensuing days passed, Jasmin's body continued to grow, and develop. Not in the massive spurts as before, but now gradually. She gained about an inch per day in height while the rest of her remained proportionate to that increase. Her skeleton adapted to accommodate the ever accumulating volumes of powerful muscle tissue that adorned her increasingly more massive physique. With the gradualism of her continuing transformation being easier for her to handle, Jasmin came to accept her growth without any further episodes of panic, but she quietly prayed that it would stop.
Along with her constantly increasing physical size, and strength, her other abilities also increased, in number as well as in intensity. They seemed to be developing at such a rapid rate that she had trouble keeping track of them at times. Often she would be surprised as some new ability, or a new dimension of an existing one, would unexpectedly manifest itself, and those surprises were not always pleasant. One morning, during breakfast, she teasingly 'set' Ray's favorite coffee mug in a spot in the air over their kitchen table. They shared a laugh over her 'new trick', but then she discovered that she couldn't let it go. This not only embarrassed Jasmin, but it really pissed Ray off, "Nice goin' Jasmin!" (You don't mess with a man's favorite coffee mug). Try as she did, she couldn't figure out a way to release it. Not even her now unearthly physical strength could budge the thing. It was almost like her abilities were playing with her; being evident, and under her control one minute, and then completely abandoning her the next. As it was in this case, Ray's coffee mug, his favorite, would remain suspended in mid-air over the table for some time to come.
With her constantly increasing strength, and power, both she, and Ray, were keenly aware of the possibility of her becoming dangerous. To avoid this, they kept constant tabs on her capabilities in as controlled circumstances as they could manage.
They started on this path to understanding by establishing some definitions. They broke the range of her powers down into roughly three groups; physical strength, instinctual abilities and discretionary powers. Her 'guidance system', thankfully, took care of monitoring her physical strength so that she didn't damage what she touched, or injure who she touched. Her instinctual abilities also seemed to take care of themselves, having a guidance system all their own. With experience, Jasmin found that these abilities stubbornly resisted cerebralization. Their having a 'mind of their own', so to say, made her leery of them, and reluctant to use them. Her discretionary powers, on the other hand, were turning out to be just that, and she had to actively work at controlling them.
Ray was very helpful in this; first, by insisting that she practice, and, second, by inventing little tasks for her to perform. Even something so simple as running her finger along the surface of a cushion proved to be invaluable as she learned to impose an impression in the material first by direct contact, then with her finger at a two inch distance from the cushion. After that she was able to gradually increase the distance, and even differ the angle of approach, until she was able to 'touch' the cushion from across the room. The fact that she could still feel the material rubbing against her fingertip at such a distance she found to be "really spooky".
An unexpected dividend of practicing doing things "by remote", as Jasmin came to call it, was when she discovered that she could discipline Ray without the requirement of actual physical contact. If she happened to observe him indulging one of his more objectionable male tendencies, she merely had to aim a thumb, and forefinger, at him, and then squeeze them together to give him a well deserved pinch (and frequently cause him to yelp in protest). But though she could be stern with him at times, far more often, he would feel a loving caress from her, eventually from wherever in the apartment either of them might happen to be.
At work, as well as anywhere else in public, Jasmin conscientiously refrained from exhibiting any of her supernatural powers. She knew that she couldn't avoid looking strange, but if, on top of that, she just started casually doing strange things, it would be unnecessarily more than a lot of people would be able to bear. Along with this was the consideration that if her capabilities became widely known, it could make both she, and Ray, quite vulnerable. They determined, then, to keep the knowledge of her powers strictly to themselves. None of their friends, not even Gwen, would know. They did realize, however, that emergencies would crop up. Ultimately, they agreed that she was going to have to decide how to conduct herself as individual situations arose. Ray counseled her to, "keep a cool head" and "trust yerself."
As the shock of her transformation wore off at the office, Jasmin's coworkers, for the most part, came to accept her new, and still increasing, dimensions. Most could readily see that she was still 'Miss Jing' in spite of her overwhelming physical presence. With those who could not adjust, she would use that presence to keep them in line. Fortunately though, all those she worked with closely accepted her change with aplomb, and Joan still kept her wondering as to just which of the two of them was actually the boss.
Of critical importance was the reaction of the company's owner, and CEO, Richard Carlson. Her performance at the Monday conference, and the group's reaction to her, had been far from wasted on him. He'd always known Jasmin to bring up good points in contract negotiations with clients, but, with her now larger, and more powerful, presence, he saw that she could press those points more aggressively, or rather, more convincingly. He quickly began to include her in more key meetings, and would frequently ask her to raise a certain point he was concerned about just before a meeting was to start.
Jasmin knew exactly what he was up to, and she admired him for his savvy. She was all too aware of their constant battles with clients who wanted to cut corners on safety, or scrimp on design, and with her now at the front line, they could swing important concessions their way. It would eventually become a game with them; Carlson would make a point of consulting with her as a group was filing into the conference room. She would then ask him with a sly smile, "How much is it worth to you?" He'd just look away smiling, and give her elbow an affectionate pat.
The most problematic part of her transformation seemed to be in simply maneuvering her increasingly voluminous form within a world of man-made structures now too small for her. Spaces that were formerly comfortable to her were becoming impossible. Doorways, in particular, became the bane of her existence. They just got progressively more difficult to manage as she grew progressively larger. At home, the living room, having the largest area of square footage in the place, eventually became her bed, and dressing, room.
At work, Jasmin took more to summoning people to her office rather than subject herself to the exasperation of negotiating yet another doorway, or squeezing herself along some of the narrower isleways. The office staff was quick to appreciate these summons because, if she did enter another's office, or cubical, the occupant would then have to deal with the massive Asian's considerably less than stellar mood. Indeed, "Do I have to come in there?" became one of her most effective threats.
She visited the dress shop almost daily after work. Mrs. Hazelton would show her into the back of the store where Mr. Raskin would present her with a new garment, and take fresh measurements for her next one. As the week progressed, she began to notice a gradual difference in the old man during their fitting sessions. Each day, it seemed, a few more years would slip away from his care ridden body, and there emerged a certain familiarity in the way he handled her. As he moved about, extending his tape over her enlargened forms, he came to offer her a supporting hand whenever he asked her to move, or turn. Accepting the old man's tendered gallantry made Jasmin think of partnering in ballet, and she responded with her own long studied grace. Lifting an arm became a port a bras. Extending a leg became a tendu. The flow, and formality, of how they came to move together - she couldn't help thinking that this tired old man was dancing with her.
The tailor accommodated her attire in a manner she was most happy with. He even fashioned a pair of slippers for her to wear at work that would comfortably contain her continually enlargening feet until the shoes she was having specially made were finished. With his being so busy with the task of constantly constructing, and altering, her work wardrobe, Jasmin was loathe to burden him further with her requirements of more casual wear. Since the outfit Gwen had made was becoming progressively sparse on her, and her bedsheet sarong effectively kept her housebound, Jasmin knew she needed some 'knock abouts', so, to that end, she resorted to the phone.
"Hi, Gwen?"
"J?"
"Yeah."
"Hey! How're ya doin'?"
"Mmm - I'm doin' okay."
"You wanna rephrase that?"
"Not really. Say, you know that little outfit you made me the other day?"
"Yeah."
"Could you, uh . . . y' know, um . . . "
"What, you want another one?"
"Yeah."
"You liked that one, hm?"
"Yeah, but, um . . . "
"But what, J?"
"Wul, could you, uh . . . y'know like, make the next one, um . . . a little, y'know like . . . larger?"
"Are you still growing!"
"Yeah . . . "
"J, this is incredible! How big are you now?"
"None of your business."
"If you want cloths, I have to know."
". . . Shit . . . "
"What? Speak up, I couldn't hear that."
"I look the same but . . . larger."
"How much larger?"
"Gwen!"
"J, I have to know this stuff, okay?"
"You're not making this easy, you know."
"What's so hard about it? Jasmin, you are becoming a physical ideal, God, what'm I saying? You already are a physical ideal."
"I don't want to be a physical ideal."
"Well isn't that tough?"
"Gwen, please . . . "
"Alright. Why don'chou just tell me yer height an' I'll calculate your proportions from my old measurements."
"When will I see you?"
"Mmm how about Saturday?"
"Yeah, that's okay . . . "
"Okay, so if you're still growing - God, this is incredible - how big do you think you'll be by then?"
There followed a long pause on Jasmin's end.
"J?"
"I'm thinking, alright? Trying to figure . . . okay, at the rate I'm going, I should be a little over seven feet tall by Sat - "
"Seven f - holy shit!"
"Gwen, please! Could you jus' . . . back off on that, okay?"
"Alright, alright. Let's just say I'll see you Saturday at eleven with your new things - "
"Great."
" - when I pick you up to go to the gym."
"What!?"
"You're going to the gym with me J."
"Over your dead body!"
"Fine. Go naked. Let's see ya run down to the store in yer birthday suit."
"Gwen, that's - "
"Blackmail baby! Don'cha just love it?"
"You bitch! You are gonna be so sorry for this - "
"I'll deal with that when it comes. Right now, I'm lovin' it too much."
"You - !"
"See ya Saturday. Bye."
Wrapped up in her bedsheet, and wearing a scowl that effectively kept Ray out of the room, Jasmin spent the rest of that evening sorely wishing that she'd taken her mother's sewing lessons more seriously.
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