Grace awoke with a start in her bed, sweating bullets and breathing hard. She shook herself, trying to chase away the nightmare. Her head was pounding and her mouth was dry. She glanced at the clock - 3am. Groaning, she pulled back the covers and sat up. Time for an advil and a glass of water.

She swung her feet to the floor and stood up… and up. Grace looked straight ahead at the top of her TV, silhouetted in the moonlight. She hadn’t been able to see the top of her TV last night.

She reached down to turn on the light, then had to reach down further. As her eyes adjusted, she saw the heart-shaped bottle on the nightstand.

“MOOOOOMMMMMM!”

Ten minutes later, Grace and her mother were staring at Grace’s legs as she sat on the living room couch. They were long - very, very long. They were still quite shapely, but the sheer length threw off Grace’s proportions. She had become almost ridiculously coltish.

“I dunno Gracie… maybe it’s an allergic reaction?”

Grace tilted her head, staring at her mother in disbelief. “An allergic reaction that made my legs a foot longer?”

“I don’t know!” Mrs Stavros threw her hands up in exasperation. “There’s got to be a reasonable explanation!”

An explanation, yes, Grace thought. Just not a reasonable one.

“It’s ok mom, I’m fine. We’ll figure it out in the morning.” She stood up, which took longer than it used to.

“It’s clearly NOT ok!” Mrs Stavros grabbed her daughter’s hand, eyes full of concern. “We have to go to the hospital right now!”

“Yeah, you’re right. Let me just use the washroom.”

Grace went back into her bedroom, grabbing the bottle and moving to her bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror for a few long breaths, then opened the blinds and pulled the dropper.

It’s 3am, she thought. That’s ‘before midnight’ technically.

She tasted the blood and honey again, felt the tingling start to spread.

“I want to be the only person aware of the changes,” Grace said to herself in the mirror. There was strange pressure in her head for a moment, then the tingling ceased.

She went back to the living room, where mom was asleep on the couch. She put a blanket over her then returned to her own bed. We’ll figure all this out in the morning.

—

The morning alarm snapped Grace awake, and she pulled back the covers. There they were - her new crazy long legs. She hadn’t really expected it all to be a dream, but it was still hard to process. Someone - a creepy weirdo, apparently a doctor - had given her a bottle full of wishes.

Why? To what end? What did he want? What was the cost?

That last question stopped her dead as she showered. In the moment, the whole thing had been mostly surreal, but also oddly comforting. She’d told the doctor all her horny secrets, and he’d simply nodded and offered help. But now, in the cold light of dawn, it was all profoundly sinister.

Also painful. Her head was pounding. The doctor wasn’t kidding about the side effects.

Grace looked in the mirror, staring herself in the eyes as she swallowed some advil. “Deal with the Devil or not, you still gotta go to work.” She paused, blinking slowly. “Why didn’t you wish yourself a fortune? Idiot.”

She spent a few minutes trying to find something in her closet that would draw attention away from her new… extensions, but it was fruitless. “Fuck it, turn into the skid.” She picked out a cute dress, once tastefully cut just above the knee. Now it was damn near a miniskirt - yards of creamy thigh on full display.

“I may look like a giraffe, but at least I’m a hot giraffe. I’m nobody’s kid sister anymore.”

Mom gave her some static about her ‘scandalous’ dress, but she didn’t freak out about the extra foot of height, so apparently wish number two had worked. Grace wondered how everyone at work would react.

The pigs on the E train reacted with leers and wolf whistles, but that was just the MTA. She’d be irritated tomorrow, but suddenly Grace felt sexier than she had in years - she’d allow it this once.

Getting off at Lexington and 53rd, she made her way to the offices of Blue Horizon, way up on the 43rd floor of Citigroup Center. As an Administrative Assistant, Grace spent her days coordinating the schedules of millionaires who sold yachts to billionaires.

It was… it was work. A lot of people had it a lot worse. Her coworkers and bosses were tolerable, and she made enough money to live comfortably in Manhattan - once she worked up the courage to move out again.

Grace immediately felt the eyes on her as she entered. Every man turned to watch her as she passed - and most of the women too. Internally she pumped her fist.

About time you people noticed me, she thought with some satisfaction. A little bit of freak factor at the moment, but we’ll fix that. At least I’m not invisible anymore.

She spent the morning in the Nautilus Room, assisting DeAndre as he tried to sell 50 million dollars worth of boat to some Wall Street bigshot and his wife. More than once, Grace’s new assets left the man momentarily tongue tied, stumbling over his words as she brought in the coffee or leaned over the desk to poke at the laptop. The wife had a sour expression as they left.

“Thanks for the help, Grace. I think we’ve got him on the hook.” DeAndre tried not to stare at her legs, and failed miserably. “You wanna go grab some lunch?”

Yes! Grace cheered inside. Finally! A vision of getting plowed in the supply closet flashed in her mind, but she shook it off. She didn’t think he was ready for that just yet. Soon though, God willing.

“God or somebody,” she murmured.

“I’m sorry?” DeAndre tilted his head in confusion.

“God, I wish I could,” she improvised, “but I’m already going out with Mercy.” Grace gave him her sexy smile, brushed her hair back behind her ear. “Tomorrow?”

DeAndre nodded excitedly, dopey grin on his face. “Sure!”

Bubbling with confidence and lust, Grace packed up her stuff and left - taking a moment to lean over the table and give DeAndre an “accidental” look at her butt.

—

“How’s your love life, Stretch? Any water in the desert?”

Merziyah Khan - Mercy to everyone in the office - pointed a playful fork of salad at Grace as she sat down. Mercy was hired around the same time as Grace, and the pair had quickly moved from ‘office friends’ to ‘actual friends.’

The woman was loud, brash and mischievous; Grace’s late father would have called her a ‘firecracker.’ She sang and played bass for Chappal Attack, an all-girl, all-Pakistani-American punk rock band. Grace ran lights for their shows sometimes - whenever they played somewhere big enough to have lights.

The ‘Stretch’ nickname was new, but it was much better than the previous ‘Shorty.’

“I think I finally see an oasis on the horizon, Mercy. And not a minute too soon, because I am fucking thirsty.” Grace sat down, and the pair chatted and ate as the food court filled. Every man in the place glanced at her legs as they passed.

She discreetly adjusted her skirt to give them a better show.

“‘Bout damn time, girl. You’ve been gettin’ real twitchy lately - lowering your standards. You hit on that security guy last week at the show.”

“He was kinda cute…” Grace retorted weakly.

Mercy raised an accusing eyebrow and Grace withered. “Yeah, if you had three or four drinks in you - and he was definitely high on K.”

She waved it off and raised her Pelligrino. “But here’s hoping the SS Good Dick steams into your port soon. Mine too, come to think of it. Fucking Scott, cheating bastard…”

Mercy shook her head. “Ah to hell with him - Let’s both get laid!” Grace raised her iced tea and gave a hearty ‘amen’.