You point the gun at Doctor Hurley and pull the trigger, green energy flowing out. Unfortunately, a six-inch tall woman is a rather small target, and even more unfortunately, the metal exam table she's standing on is a mirrored surface. The energy arcs back, enveloping you, and then you see Doctor Hurley start to shrink again, along with the whole room. Then something hits you on the head, hard, and you pass out.
When you wake, you have a killer headache and a knot on the top of your head you touch gingerly with one hand. In the other are the shattered remains of the gun. Sylvia the dinosaur sits in the corner, babbling with her duck bill, "White mice. Sylvia like mice. Mice yummy."
Doctor Hurley had mentioned that she could turn psychotic. It looks like that happened. "What happened to Doctor Hurley?"
"White mice," Sylvia babbles. "Doctor Hurley was a mouse." You then notice what looks like a mouse tail dangling from her beak, and then with sick realization, you see that it's actually a tiny human leg. Sylvia licks her ducklips with her lizard tongue and it vanishes down her gullet.
You feel sick, and stand up carefully, slowly, so as to not alarm the crazy saurian. As you do, you gently, if painfully, touch the bump on the top of your head to the ceiling. The ceiling. The eight-foot ceiling. You're standing, a bit hunched over, as you realize that the enlarging ray had worked, it had just arced and hit you. You must be something like nine feet tall now.
You take the late Doctor Hurley's card key and swipe it through the slot, squeezing your way out the tiny door. Not actually tiny--you're huge--and shut the door behind you.
You stuff the broken bits of the gun in the pocket of your jacket, which at least changed size along with you, then literally duck down the hall to the foyer where the guard waits, suddenly staring up at you. "Doctor Hurley!" you gabble. "The dinosaur's loose!"
"Oh shit!" the guard yells, running around her desk, but before she can run by you use your mass to slam her into the wall, knocking her out. You go to the desk and retrieve your application folder--there's no way you're letting the lab remember who you are--then you run on out of the building.
You were just out of high school with no future. Now you're nine feet tall, which means you've got good prospects for the NBA, and a backup career as a circus giant.