"The left door, I guess," Ken said. HUGE sounded better than CHANGE.
"Very good," said the doctor. "Please disrobe and then step in."
"Disrobe?"
"An even application is best for any product. You can put your clothes there." He gestured to an exam table.
Ken stripped, putting his clothes on the table, the opened the left door, shutting it behind him.
The latch clicked, followed by the sliding of a bolt, and he realized that the room had a vacuum seal around it. There was also a mirror on one wall, of the type that was obviously one-way glass. Great, the doctor got to ogle him.
Then jets in the corner of the room began to spray a pale orange mist. It smelt like burnt fruitcake mixed with formaldehyde and Ken started to cough as the mist obscurred his vision. There was a tingling as it coated his skin, soaking in, and his muscles spasmed as he coughed, but at last the mist cleared and he stood there looking at his naked reflection in the one-way mirror. Nothing appeared changed. His muscles appeared no bigger. His package looked the same size it had always been. "Uh...is that it?" Ken asked, then paused. His voice was definitely different. Before, it had been a light baritone. Now it was at the bottom at the bass clef. "What happened to my voice?" he rumbled.
"We'll have to examine you," said the doctor's voice over the intercom. "Would you turn around please?"
Ken did, feeling a little stupid doing this, but also feeling a bit clumsy too, staggering and then reaching up and bracing his hand against the padded ceiling, just inches above his head. He paused, not remembering it having been so close.
The door opened. "Could you step out so we could examine you properly?" the doctor asked politely.
Ken looked, seeing the doctor standing in what looked like a much smaller doorframe with a much smaller doctor, then he ducked and left the HUGE spray room. "What happened?"
"We tested our Huge Spray," the doctor explained. "Some men are frustrated with being too short, so we devised a growth formula. This is part of our product testing." The doctor was nearly talking to his navel.
Ken looked at himself, rumbling, "How big am I?"
"Well," said the doctor, "we'll need to measure you properly, but the testing chamber is made to a specification of three meters in height, so you're very nearly that."
"Uh," Ken rumbled, "in feet? I don't do metrics."
The doctor looked condescending, or at least as much as he could while craning his neck upwards. "Three meters is just about ten feet. You should be close to that, but otherwise unchanged. I think we can say the formula is a complete success!"
Ken stared down at the doctor. "Who's going to want to be ten feet tall."
The doctor shrugged. "Oh, I suppose a few basketball players. We plan to market this in smaller dosages."
"Am I stuck like this?"
"Of course," the doctor replied. "It wouldn't be a very good growth formula if it wore off, now would it?"
Ken looked down at his clothes, neatly folded but tiny on the exam table. "What am I going to wear?"
The doctor shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. We can spare a hospital gown. You can take your payment to the mall then I suppose and get something, though I guess you're a bit bigger than the Big and Tall store should carry."
Ken staggered, supporting himself on the exam table that creaked beneath his weight. Life was going to get very difficult now.