The Factory came to the town in the year of ’47. The talk started immediately, "A big factory in this tiny town? And built by the most rich man in the state, nonetheless." The excitement stirred in the air. New jobs, new goods, maybe even a department store, like Sears had done in many towns as trade for having their factories there. The thing was hideous. Huge and dominating the small town’s skyline, it belched out smoke, and no one ever did get a job there. After ten years, it was apparent that there wouldn’t even be a department store. Through the years, the people of Crafton tired of the eyesore, and it’s popularity diminished greatly. No one knew what it made; just that it produced great amounts of noise and ugliness.
The missing unmarried pregnancies that so disgraced families at the time weren’t really noticed, because no one wanted to notice them (social taboo). And no one noticed the occasional schoolgirl that "ran away", or the missing prostitutes that came to escape from their previous lives where they had heard they would be accepted.
In ’97, the town had become a Mecca of industry, and had grown to outlandish proportions. A suburb on one of the Unions "Top-Ten", and other factories moving in after the Factory, made the sleepy little town into a flourishing city. Not quite as dirty as LA, and not quite as clean as Houston, it nestled into a regularity that seemed to be a custom of the once tiny town. The crime rate was normal, the fire department was good, and the people were average. Still, they had their share of "run aways", "missing sluts", and embarrassing "unwed mothers". And now, they also had kidnappings. Some popular with the press some not, but it seemed in Crafton City that no one ever was found. As many copiers that went into the flyers, as many people who "saw her the night before" every mother knew that if her teenaged daughter came up missing in Crafton City, that she should start getting rid of the teeny-bopper’s clothing. It never failed.
One girl was Clara. Clara was a pretty much a typical teenaged girl. Not too popular, though decently pretty. She wouldn’t make it as Prom Queen or any other nonsense. But she wouldn’t be voted "most likely to get a face-lift" either. She did a little drinking, kept her room clean, had a steady job, and would be getting her license a little late, at 17, when she got her car. She was three months away from getting the freedom of the keys when she turned up missing. It was a shame really; she had a lot of potential. She was also very out-of-the-closet. Often called Lez, happily.
The last one to se her was her friend Josie, at school. Josie was a serious crackpot. She did anything that would allow her to escape the reality of her collapsing homelife, and abusive father. Pot, speed, meth, you name it. Her grades were awful, her attendance terrible, but for some reason, she and Clara always got together a lot, and well. Josie didn’t criticize every move that Clara made, and Clara understood more of Josie than anyone thought there was. Josie, because of her choice of "diet", had always been exceedingly thin, while Clara was nice and normal, a size 8 or so. Josie said she had last seen Clara when they parted from school. Clara had gotten on her bike, and she disappeared from site around the corner of Maple and Main.
Clara lived on the other side of the main shopping district; out by that weird Factory that everyone said was such a crappy place to live. But she liked her house. She didn’t mind the Factory, at least until that day.
She was riding by the noisy factory, when a dog, maybe a terrier of some kind, ran out under her tires. Before she could stop, she heard a yelp, and the poor pooch was hit. She stopped and picked the cute thing up, and it was still alive, though obviously in pain. She looked at the tag she discovered and read, "Plato, the Factory Dog. 115 Main St. Crafton" She looked up at the Factory, and sure enough, there was the address, 115 Main, engraved into the side of the building. She decided togo and return the wounded beast, since it probably was the Factory’s equivalent of a firedog. She left her bike, and entered the gate. As she came closer to the main building, she swore she smelled what smelled like a bar b que. But who would have a bar b que at work? It must be somewhere in the neighborhood, she brushed it off.
At the door, she knocked. Unlike the factories made in the late 70’s and later, this one still had wooden doors. "It must be pretty old," She thought, and the plaque next to the door confirmed her suspicions: "Founded in 1947".
She stood there for quite awhile, before the door opened, and before she could even see who was standing there, she was hit over the head and fell into unconsciousness.
Clara awoke to the sound of a door closing. She immediately felt cold, but it seemed to be something like an overactive air conditioner. She was free to move around this place, which she looked around and saw was a large white walled room. Nothing distinguishing other than a door. She was clothed, lying on the floor. But they weren't her clothes. She was wearing tight, tight jeans, that she had a hard time bending over in, and a midriff, exposing her cute little tummy, that she had never been uncomfortable with before.
"Clara Smith, you at the age of 17, are hereby charged with trespassing." A loud voice coming from Where? Boomed at her. Unable to think of anything else to say, she called, "I was only returning your dog." She looked around for the source, but found none.
There was no more conversation. Then the door opened, and a man in a white almost radioactive protection suit came in. In one hand, he held a bottle, in the other, a syringe. Clara gaped at him, "What are you doing? You can’t do this, it’s illegal!" But it had no effect as the man held her arm, and stuck her without bothering to calm her struggles. Then he moved into the corner of the room, while she screamed curses at him.
Clara hated needles, and was outraged at the man’s seeming insensitivity. She fumed silently for a few minutes, but her thoughts turned elsewhere when she felt something akin to gassy bloatedness start to rumble in her stomach. Almost painful because of the tight pants, but she chose to ignore it outwardly. A few more minutes went by with the "gas" increasing in pressure until it made it uncomfortable to sit or stand, so Clara laid herself down. The man in corner said nothing, and Clara started to become suspicious of what she had been injected with. She unbuttoned her jeans, and more of her stomach came out than should have. She gasped more at having the pressure released than because she was bloated. She didn't even notice at first, until she looked down because the unbuttoned pants were now cutting into her. Giving a small shriek, she sat up, but they only cut in more, so she laid-back down. By this time, the pain was intense enough so that she wanted to take the darn things off, but felt that she shouldn't because of this weirdo in the corner. She felt tears coming to her eyes.
Over the same device that was used earlier, she heard, "Put the scale under her now, I don’t think she’ll move much after a few minutes…" The man came over, and put a thin piece of plastic under her…. "Clara, dear, you’re going to undergo some changes within the next few minutes. Just be patient, and it’ll all be over soon enough. Think of it as your punishment for coming onto my property."
Clara could only groan at this point, her "gas’ so painful now that it caused her to whimper a little as she cried. She could feel her underwear crawling their way up her butt, "They used to fit before", she should only think. She could feel her skin tightened and growing against her zipper on her pants, and then the growth started to push the zipper down, notch by notch, slowly, exposing her bloated girth to the air. The tight midriff was hugging her now bulbous tits; her nipples protruding through the fabric as it rubbed up against them. Her stomach overflowed onto her ribs, and made her breasts grow up into her face. The tight pants were horridly painful, and she couldn’t seem to get them off. For some reason, the filling in her skin was heavy, and she could feel her boobs drooping towards the floor. Even the skin in her butt and back was being filled, but not her arms and legs. Her groans of discomfort grew louder with her body. Confusion filled her mind, as she tried to figure out desperately how to stop the pain.
Her belly hung ungracefully through her now open zipper, and the flesh was digging into it painfully. Before she knew what happened, the pressure became too great, and her jeans split from the bottom of her zipper to her crotch, letting even more stomach out. Her underwear rolled up and slid to the bottom of her belly, which now rested just above her pussy lips, tucked in right above where the fatty tissue sank into the cloth of her jeans’ crotch. A few dangling pubic hairs floated out. Clara sighed from relief, but not for long; as the filling continued, so did her loud moans and groans of pain. Now, from her crotch all the way to her jiggling breasts there was a great ball of fleshy stomach. By this time, she had gone from her size 8 to probably a 56, and her breasts had gone from a petite 32B to a seemingly monstrous 42DD (for all you guys writing these stories, Letters are the CUP, numbers the trunk size as if she had no breasts.) They hung into her armpits towards the floor. Also, Clara had started hearing sloshing sounds everytime she moved. When her jeans ripped again in the pockets, she heard a slosh as her tummy surged into the now vacant space.
And still, to her painful disbelief, she kept growing. Her stomach swelled to huge proportions, and ended up ripping her jeans again, this time from the butt to the crotch, so that she had a cloth knot digging into her expansive pussy lips. They were starting to become one with the flesh of her rising belly. Her underwear continued to bury themselves into her, creating a disgusting display of folded flesh. Her bra band snapped shortly after that, Clara didn’t mind, as it had caused a lot of discomfort as it dug into her tender boob skin as she grew. Her breasts sloshed to her sides, pinning her arms down, and she cried out, frightened. She could feel herself raising up on her ballooning butt, as it also grew more. More and more she was becoming just some sort of round thing. All gushy and squishy. It wasn’t long until the skimpy shirt followed suit, and she lay on her puffy butt, with nothing on in the front, almost completely naked. She could still feel the pressure, even after the clothes were gone, it seemed to build in her. Her cries became more desperate pleas for help from the man in the corner.
"She’s at 300, do you wish to continue, sir?" She heard the man in the suit say. Over the "intercom" came the same voice saying "No, I want this one really big, we have buyers, remember, and they want these girls as big as they can get, at all costs."
Clara felt a sinking feeling if she had gone from 115 to 300 pounds in just few minutes, and they wanted to keep going, how large would she get? She started to cry in despair.
After a while longer, the man came over to her, and rolled her onto her feet, her clothes (or what remained) came off her at this time, and she found her self facing a mirror. She grunted as she was moved, and everything shifted, so that now she sagged towards her feet, and in that way, she saw herself as a huge tear drop shaped thing, all bloated and sagging. Her breasts even drooped towards her crotch, as if to comfort it with sympathy. She started screaming not from just the pain anymore, but from the knowledge that she was nothing but a huge water balloon!
As she continued to blimp out, her form stopped taking on droopy sag, and started to become more spherical. At the same time, her arms and legs were being overtaken, as their skin was filled out by the increasing liquid and becoming one with her expanding stomach. She was losing air for her screams as her lungs became squished. The building of pressure increased as her body struggled to find places to fill. It was running out of skin, but the liquid was still being pumped into her at the same pace. She could feel her crotch touch the cold ground, filling as well as part of her stomach, as her legs were forced to the sides. By now she was 4 feet across at the widest point, her breast skin was being sucked in for her stomach by this time, so that all that could distinguish them from the rest of her were two huge nipples; she sat not on her butt, but on her crotch, her lips now totally gone into her stomach. Her underwear had long since disintegrated. All that was left of her legs were two little feet, still wearing shoes, that poked out from the sphere that was her body now. Her hands thunked frantically against her filling flesh as they became the only thing left from her arms. She started to stop screaming, and started gasping for breath. Tight as a drum, she started to hear things other than sloshing now… a horrible stretching sound, and a tense vibration, like rubber gloves being put on, but she knew with a sickening realization that it was her skin, not able to hold anymore. She tried to scream because the pain was anguishing now, but her organs and lungs were so squeezed by liquid, that she could barely breath, let alone scream, or talk. She felt herself begin to throb in time to her heart, as she came to her limit, gasping in pain. She wasn’t filling anymore, or at least she wasn’t becoming any bigger, but she felt the agony as her skin tried to stretch farther than it could. She could feel the lacing pain of stretch marks running across her skin, the pressure in her moving to even her fingers now. She couldn’t even make a fist; she felt her shoes explode off of her ball shaped feet; her mouth was engulfed with flesh as her cheeks filled, and she could feel her eyebrows grow heavy as even the skin on her forehead filled. All she could do was throb, she couldn’t stretch any longer, and throb she did; she pulsated, vibrated, her skin tight and shiny, covered with red jagged stretch marks. She closed her eyes; thinking at anytime, she’d explode, and tried to grit her teeth, but couldn’t, because her cheeks got in the way. Tears of agony streamed down her baseball sized cheeks.
"She’s at 800 pounds folks, let’s take a peek, shall we?" She heard the voice say.
Faintly, because she was so full she could mostly only hear her own heartbeat, she heard the sound of metal grating, and she looked up in time to see the mirror slide away. Instead, it was replaced with glass, and on the other side stood men, obviously not from the US, gaping at her in horny pleasure, some even went as far as to stroke themselves in front of her. Against her crotch, she felt something move as the ground was altered somehow. Still the liquid filled her. Though she thought she could get no bigger, no more bloated, could give no more room, it still came, wave after excruciating wave. In her reflection in the glass, she saw her angry stretch marks all over her tensed, drum tight white skin, in places that she didn’t think stretch marks could go. Her gut protruded from her grossly, but it was a proportioned ball when it was compared with her hips and butt. Her tits no longer existed, just nipples at the top of her belly. She could see where her clit was exposed to the cold floor because her lips were not lips anymore, but just more of her stomach. Her hands bobbed, not able to wave for being so fat, and her feet were simple balls with toenails. Her belly button seemed tiny, a speck lost among all the flesh. Her head was all cheeks and eyebrows, so fat, she looked like she had her eyes closed, though she didn’t. And under her, on the floor, through the mirror, she saw what had moved. It looked as though she was sitting on a sieve; the tiny holes in the floor were to purify something. Her realization came to her just as her body reached its limits. She was consumed in searing pain as she blew apart.
The crowd on the other side of the glass watched the American Beauty finally succumb to the water being pumped into her, and began pulling out money from their pockets to buy some of the water that ran into the grate below. There was no blood, only water, and it collected into the bottles on the Factory floor below, which the foreigners hungrily bought up.
"Crafton Gazette
"Crafton girl still not found, authorities say. After tomorrow, Police Chief Strickland will discontinue the search for Clara Smith. Clara was last seen at school on Friday, April 18, 1997."
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Terri hated Crafton’s Regional High School for Girls. Not only was it the prime of her sexual teenaged life, and she was stuck in the worst girls school in the world, but she couldn’t even wear normal clothes. The uniforms looked like something off of bad fetish WebPages, and made her feel as though she were some kind of criminal to have to be put in a correctional school for wussy little sluts. She hated her parents for making her move here. All in all, she hated a lot of things.
Her mother freaked when she died her hair black a few months ago, and so they had all had a "family talk" and in order to "save" her from the bad influences in the big city, they had decided to move to this dump. When they had gone to buy her new school uniforms, she had intentionally gotten sizes too small; in order to show off what wouldn’t be looked at by anyone of the male species. She wore silver jewelry, and black eye shadow, and did her best to look like something out of "The Craft". No one talked to her at school, and that was how she liked it. In her tight clothes, she squeezed her over average bust and full hips so that she was the talk of all the girls there. She walked through the school, strutting her stuff and acting as though she knew what was happening in the school politics long before she got there.
She scoffed at reports that the town’s factory was mysterious and spooky. She had seen the old decrepit thing, and it certainly didn't strike her as anything other than dirty and un modern. Exactly something she would find in this backwater village. She rode by it everyday in the bus on her way to school.
Her counselor enrolled her into one of the extra curricular activities offered at the school, and then threatened her with expulsion if she didn't go. So, she decided that even though the school was really lame, she'd better go along with some of it, otherwise she'd end up like a total reject without a diploma. She went to the after school club, not even knowing what it was called, and found other girls her age inside. They all sat at large tables, and since she was late, they were already listening to a man from some corporation standing at the front of the room with a slide machine showing pictures of the Factory. All eyes turned towards her as she entered, and she could see the others in the room were scared of something, and some were even crying. There were no teachers, just this man.
"Ah, you must be our new member, Terri. Welcome to the Reconstructive Attitude Club. Everyone here has been in trouble, just like you, so we all know what it feels like." He smiled at her very fakely. "Why don't you join us as we talk about our field trip later today?"
"Reconstructive Attitude Club? What kind of pansy name is that? Are you some kind of wanna be teacher or something? What the hell do you mean, I gotta attitude problem? Why don't you show some of these little whores respect and then maybe they'd respect your shitty rules back!?" She sat, nonetheless.
The man nodded at her, and looked very sour for a moment, before replacing his smile/mask. She was going to be a problem.
The slides continued, and from what she could see, it was a general food factory, producing canned meats, and bottled water. Boring. Why were they going to take a field trip there? She wasn't going to argue that right now though, whatever to keep her out of the hot water with her folks. During the slides, though, she noticed that some of the other girls were treating the trip like it was a funeral, and when she asked the girl next to her why, she said that because no-one that they'd ever known had ever come back from this trip. Of course, Terri didn't believe it. They probably got lucky, and left for another school, is all. She shook her head, exasperated at the other girls, and slept through the rest of the slideshow.
Two hours later, she was on a tour bus, going through the Factory. All in all, it seemed pretty clean. She watched with barely sustained boredom as the tour guide showed the girls where the water was filtered from above, and drained into the bottles below, where the meat was chopped, cooked and canned, and where the shipping began. The thing that made her confused though, was they didn't show where the meat and water was coming from.
As they rounded the corner, a few things happened simultaneously. First, the tour guide paused for an extended amount of time, letting the gazes of the girls travel over what they wanted, instead of drawing their attention into just one area. Second, the windows of the tour bus rolled up automatically, and third, they came into view of a room with a pane of glass in front, showing them, finally where the stock came from.
Terri felt her face go white as she saw the room. She heard some of the others scream, and a few faint. The windows didn't do anything to block the sounds being carried from the room over the intercom towards the tourees' ears. She began to pound on the window to get out, realizing that they were all in big trouble.
Behind the glass were four teenaged girls, all in various stages of obesity. From the talking in the bus, she knew that some of her peers recognized them from the last group of field tripping Attitude Club teens.
The smallest one, closest to the glass, was pounding on it, to try to get out, but her efforts were being hindered by a slowly accumulating amount of fat rolls around her arms, weighing her down. Her hair was a mousy brown, and her blue eyes were pleading and tearful. Through the intercom, Terri could hear her screaming for help. She watched, enthralled, as her expanding gut pushed the girl away from the glass, and her legs grew apart as the flesh flowed forward into her crotch. Her clothes became tight and constrictive, and she was panting for air. Before Terri's eye, she doubled in size, growing more and more fat, as it pressed out of her clothes, ripping them in places, and rolling over her as fat does.
Terri was so involved with watching her that she didn't notice that the others in the room with her had left until she saw a man, probably a worker, standing behind the girl. Patiently, he waited as she blimped. After awhile, she wasn't screaming. Mostly because her mouth had been forced closed by her fat cheeks. Her clothes slowly ripped off of her until she was a bundle of fleshy naked fat rolls, piling on top of each other in their effort to dwarf her body in their massiveness. Her skin went from a light orange, to a peach, to a silky white, to a sickly translucent as it stretched to meet the room for the new fat. Just about when she started to see the beginning of stretch marks on the girl, the man and another who had entered later rolled her as best as they could with her weight out a door in the back.
The bus was pulled around another corner, and Terri could see a huge machine in the middle of the room that the girl, now covered in stretch marks, and pulsating with pressure, was being moved to, by a forklift. At the top of the machine was a funnel, very large at its narrowest point and it lead into a story-high contraption that made alot of noise. Down at the bottom, there were two hoses leading from it, one filled with reddish/brown liquid, and another dumping some kind of meaty paste onto a conveyer belt. The belt had holes in it to let even more of the liquid out. The meaty stuff moved into another machine next to it that cooked and canned it. The bus full of girls became very frantic and loud as they began to scream at what was obviously a meat grinder that their peer was going to be put into.
To Terri's horror a belt hoisted the newly fattened girl up around her pudgy arms with a lever at the top of the rope. Her skin was now shiny and horribly taut, as could be seen by the belt not pressing into her even a little because of the pressure. Her eyes were forced closed along with her mouth as she was lifted precariously over the funnel. She hovered there for a moment, dangling back and forth, wiggling in pain as much as she could for being so fat and full of pressure. She was so tight with fat; Terri could see her muscles contracting against the pressure of the compact flesh. All sounds hushed as she precariously swayed, until the clip in the front of her, holding the belt together, was remotely activated, and she dropped like a boulder. Terri heard someone behind her scream, and then heard the metal grinding hums become muffled, and she saw the result of the girl coming out of the tubes below. Disgusted, she turned and puked in the corner of the back seat she was in. She noticed that a few other girls did as well.
The bus didn't move. All the girls sat in horror, whispering to each other, some crying openly, some fainted on the floor. Terri sat in terrified shock, stunned by what she had witnessed. Since the death of the girl in that disgusting machine, there had been no more to see, but the fact that they were still next to it made it difficult to bare.
Then, to her dismay, the man from the slide show that she'd insulted, came onto the bus.
"Welcome." Looked at them coldly, not the same man that had given them the charade in the classroom before. "I'm sure you know why you're here. You've been chosen by your peers, your parents, and your counselors at school to be part of a special program that disciplines the bad things you do." Some of the girls began crying harder and one started screaming hysterically. He looked at her, and demanded her silence, but she wouldn’t stop screaming. Even as he talked to her, she looked at him very deliberately, and screeched at him. The man went over to her quickly, and easily over powered her attempts at defense. He injected her with a yellow liquid, and then stepped back.
"Watch what happens if you refuse to cooperate!" He thundered, and stepped back from her. Terri watched, as the girl stopped screaming, startled by something, and then started screaming again, but this time in terror and intense pain. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and Terri couldn't see why at first. Then she noticed... the girls legs were being spread apart, but from where she was sitting, Terri couldn't see why.
"Lacie, you've had sex after your mother told you not to, and you know that you're a bad girl because of it. Your punishment: To have the biggest, least satisfied sex organs in this town!" He paused, "Lacie, you'll be filling with water in only two places, the places where you've committed your bad deeds!!"
Terri moved to see what was going on, and saw the Lacie's crotch was growing, filling out from just below the belly button all the way down. She could see it fill in against the uniform skirt, and saw it start to creep out from under her hemline, heavy and sloshing with fluid. Lacie moaned from painful aching that wouldn't be satisfied anymore, and the intense agony from her stretching skin in such a sensitive area. Her panties started cutting into her soft skin, and she tried desperately to rub up against them to relieve herself, but only brought her higher with no climax. Her skirt started to lift up in the front as her pussy inflated more. One of her knees slipped off the edge of the seat because there was no more room on it for her to sit sideways. Her legs spread wide, her hands trying horribly to give herself some kind of relief, the smell of her frustration filling the bus and all the girls on the bus were looking at her. Soon, her legs could be spread no more; Lacie's left leg was pressed up against the back of the seat in front of her. Her pussy started lifting her up because it was so large, and it was now about a foot in front of her, her lips filling with liquid. Her now golf-ball sized clit was cherry red and flamed from being too stimulated without any relief.
So distracted by her growth in such a private area, Terri didn't notice the Lacie's breasts were growing at the same time. By the time she finally did, it was because the band on the front of her bra gave way, and her boobs fell onto her newly enlarged pussy lips. Her shirt slid up onto the top of her nipples and stayed for awhile before it went up to her armpits. Her tits were at least and FF cup, though her chest hadn't grown at all underneath. She started slopping over because of the weight, until they had grown so large combined with the growth of her crotch so that she could sit straight up without having weight on her. They grew into her face, and Terri could see her straining to keep her head up above them. Her moans and screams turned into pleas for help, as she started to realize that she was going to drown in tit-flesh.
Lacie’s sounds of struggle were beginning to be muffled by her breasts, as the mountainous skin moved in front of her mouth. Her breasts kept growing and expanding, filling with fluid, until all you could see of her was the top of her head, her huge tits, and her pulsating, dripping, aching bloated pussy lips. She throbbed from the fluid in her.
After a few minutes, no sounds could be heard from her, and silence crept into the bus. No one needed to ask about the silence; her boobs had smothered Lacie. The growing stopped.
The man cleared his throat, and the attention of the bus turned towards him.
"Now that I have you watching the right person, I need you all to get up out of your seats, and file out of the bus. Once outside, you’ll follow me. Any objections?"
No hands went up.
Once out of the bus, Terri looked around her for some means of escape, and saw that there was a factory door at one end of the large room that held the meat grinding equipment. Unfortunately for her, the man caught her gaze.
"Go ahead, try to run for it, Terri. I know that you’ve been overly morbid, and hard on your parents lately, and that you smoke pot, and have sex often, despite your father's disapproval." He gave her a knowing look, and she thought about how pointless it would be either way. If she were caught trying to leave, she would be turned into one of those terrible things that she saw, and if she were to stay, she would be tortured and turned into meat. She couldn't run now, he knew, but she didn't know when the right time would be.
Without comment, she stayed in the line, as her and the other girls on the bus were led to a room full of showerheads, and handed soap. Their clothes were taken, and once they were clean, they were led naked to a room painted all white. No one said much of anything, though some of the girls were crying, or hugging one another. Terri sat alone, tugging at her nose ring, thinking.
After what seemed like hours, a man entered the room, and grabbed the nearest girl. She, of course, screamed and started begging for her life, but she was ignored as her captor injected her. She tried her best to get away from the needle, but he was too strong. Then, just like that, he left her, lying on the floor, and afterwards, the girls all went to her, hugging her, saying that it probably wasn't anything, that she'd be okay. But they all had the same look of gloom on their faces.
Surrounded by her friends, Danielle wasn't as afraid, but when they noticed her face begin to bunch up in pain, many drew back.
Before all of them, Danielle started to hiss.
By the time the hour was over, she had inflated like a balloon, and popped in front of all of them. One by one, until half their numbers were gone, they were treated like this. All with the same effects, all blowing up with air until their skin could hold no more, until their friends no longer dared to be at their sides, for fear of being hurt by the explosion.
When only a few of them were left, the main man came in, smiling cruelly.
"You girls have had the worst luck. You have been the worst of your age. And I want you to know that your kind will not be tolerated in this town. You've been so bad, and done so much wrong, that your own parents and teachers have no faith in you. They've given you to me, because they believed me when I told them that I could make it so that you would have futures, that you would cause no more troubles."
He walked slowly around the group; Terri included, and eyed them.
"We have a new potion in the works, just discovered last night, and you girls will be the first to try it..."
…To be continued.
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I found this story on my old computer Hard Drive it was originally posted on Wren-spot.com which is now gone and most of these stories no longer exist so I thought I would bring back the originals.
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