"Elizabeth! What are you doing?"
Coach Sparrow walked toward the girl pinned on the ground. He was an older, hardened man; but he hadn't a soft spot for eager students, which let some of the less athletic nerds pass Gym with flying colors. He folded his toned arms across his chest.
"I-I was just--" Elizabeth sputtered. "...telling Jenn how good she looks in her new shorts!" She forced a grin and looked toward Jenn's face. "They make your butt look big, but in the good way."
Jenn growled and pushed the ball of her foot harder on Elizabeth's chest, making the smaller girl wheeze in pain.
"Okay, now that that's done," Coach Sparrow said, as oblivious to the true meaning of Elizabeth's barbs a son ever. "Elizabeth, get up here so we can put you on a team." He turned to Jenn, looking only at her face and not the half-wrecked bleachers around her. "And Jennifer, stop teasing the smaller students. You know the rules."
"The... rules?" Jenn started to ask, but the frown on the coach's face made her stop. "O-of course, coach! Me and Elizabeth were just messing around, isn't that right?"
Elizabeth stood up and glared at Jenn, now that they could make eye contact again. She dusted off her gym uniform and folded her arms across her chest. "Just playing, coach," she said as though she were about to launch nukes and declare war on the country that was Jenn's ass.
"Just don't roughhouse with the others," the coach said to Jenn. "We don't want any more accidents here." He lightened up then and directed Elizabeth to the crowd of chattering Seniors in the middle of the gym's basketball setup. The rest of their class was doing an admittedly good job at ignoring the giant-legged Jenn in the corner.
Jenn started to get up, too, arms reaching out and ineffectually flailing around as she adjusted to her new center of gravity. She was suddenly thankful for the high gym ceilings; even with her five-person-long legs, she didn't reach halfway to the rafters. A quick estimation suggested Jenn's legs were around 12 feet long, all told, and that she was nearly 15 feet tall atop them. The basketball hoops looked pathetically tiny and she wondered how she could lose a game to any of the considerably smaller students.
"Actually," Coach Sparrow said, making Jenn turn on her heel. It was starting to get hard to see him past her enormous hips. "There's some equipment you could help me with, since you're excused from class."
Excused from class? Jenn wondered, before realizing she could hardly do anything with her classmates, let alone play basketball. She winced thinking about trying to fold herself into a tiny desk in a small classroom, surrounded by students that didn't come up to her hips sitting. How could she even fit through the halls with hips almost wide enough to brush against both banks of lockers at the same time?
"Sure, Coach Sparrow," she said, taking small steps to follow him. Behind them, she could hear Mr. Phillips--Coach Sparrow's assistant coach--splitting the others up into two teams. One upside to this disaster was that without Jenn, there was an even number of students in the class.
Coach Sparrow lead her around the bleachers, to a pair of huge openings covered by garage doors. Those had always been there--how else could they get big pieces, like the bleachers and hoops, into the gym? The coach opened the leftmost one, and even though it had seemed impressively tall to Jenn in her normal body, it looked pathetically small to her now. Her legs were too large and her arms too small to let her crawl on her hands and knees, so Jenn crouched as far down as she could to get through the door. Her head still scraped against the top, and she had to push herself along with her hands braced on the wall.
Outside, Jenn stood once more, stretching out her immense legs. At this height, she could see into the windows on the second floor of the building--and still nobody regarded her as anything unusual. Her friend Sarah waved and smiled, and Jenn awkwardly returned the greeting. Nope, there was nothing strange about a girl whose hips spanned the width of five people.
Jenn realized her coach had been talking, but he was so far away that his words were indistinct. She just nodded and followed him to the equipment warehouse--really, a glorified storage shed--to the side of the football field. Again she had to crouch and knee walk to get through a door meant for a truck. Coach Sparrow flicked on the storage shed lights, and a few bare bulbs buzzed to life in the dusty building. Jenn hadn't never been inside the warehouse before, and from her vantage point--a few feet short of the ceiling--she found it impressively empty.
Coach Sparrow lead her to a tall shelf across the room from where she entered, gesturing for her to sit. With all the grace of someone whose lower half weighed more than three times a small much as her upper, Jenn managed to get on her knees so her head was only a few feet higher than Coach Sparrow's.
"Up there," the coach said, pointing to the topmost shelf, "are some back-up shirts for our old mascot. We haven't used them in five years and the principal wants them gone before the district inspects our facilities." Jenn surveyed the disaster of old, crumpled boxes on the top shelf. "If you could find them, that would be great. And, hey, if anything's in your size, feel free to keep it!" He chuckled. "You might want to wash it first, though. See you in half an hour!" Coach Sparrow walked past Jenn's meaty calves and impressive feet, leaving the almost-giantess alone in the warehouse.
With no other options, Jenn started sorting through the several musty boxes of mouldering sports supplies. "What even is that?" she asked herself on more than one occassion. Picking up the remains of something that had been in a box for several years, she wrinkled her nose and asked, "or what even WAS this?" Most of the boxes had sharpie on them, but time and moisture left the writing completely illegible.
Finally, Jenn found a mostly dry box and unfolded its flaps to reveal some garishly colored sports shirts. They had to be ancient--the high school hadn't had colors like these since Jenn was in middle school! She marveled at the clashing patterns and dizzying colors as she unfolded each shirt in turn. There were about fifteen all told, each with its own uniquely disgusting design. Jenn was about to rebox them when she noticed one last shirt, larger than the others and with different colors, at the bottom of the box. She pulled it out and unfolded it, her arms struggling to hold it taut by each shoulder.
"I wonder what this was for," she said, looking at the hot pink mushroom emblazoned on the front of the dark grey shirt. It was easily the largest shirt Jenn had ever seen. Even the school's mascot (Flarey the Flamingo!) would have drowned in it. It was also quite a bit older than the others.
Jenn noticed that, while it didn't quite match the proportions of the massive trunks she wore, it was quite a bit closer than anything else she'd seen. Considering the swelling in her hips and ass hadn't gone down when Elizabeth had helped strip her, Jenn figured that there was no way for her to go entirely back to normal--at least, not without another person canceling out the curse in the first place. As she was, with hips wider than the span of her arms, Jenn chewed on her lip as she looked at the shirt. Was it worth it? How big would her boobs swell? Did anyone even make bras for breasts that large? And, dear God, how big would it make her overall to put that on?
Coach Sparrow was about to walk in when Jenn decided to...