I have a habit of trying to skip straight to the process sometimes, too, so I understand where you're coming from. I do hope you're enjoying the actual plot, though, as I'm setting up a couple things for later. I do promise that the plot and the giantess stuff will eventually collide, lol.
In the meantime, I'd like to think that any followers of my story are going to really enjoy this next bit. *crosses fingers* Also, if you didn't already know, my stories sometimes turn into a giant game of Spot the Reference, which, although it started as early as "Sunday," will probably become increasingly obvious as we continue. So if you weren't already playing, now's a good time to start!
Without further ado, I give you the next bit: In Which Growing Females Burst Apart Their Clothing.
* * * * *
As most of her classmates headed for the buses or their cars, Darla Morgan was digging around in her locker looking for her art supplies. She and Janet Laine, her best friend and fellow artist, had permission from the school to spend Tuesday and Thursday afternoons in the art studio. It was a large, quiet, well-lit workspace, and they were permitted use of the supplies if they needed them. Not to mention it was somewhere they could get away from queen bitch Britney Lawrence and her drones. Britney was every bit the stereotypical popular girl—tall, blond, beautiful, and built like a centerfold. She also met other requirements: she was head cheerleader, she dated one of the school's best athletes, her family was wealthy, she had a gang of wannabes following her around, and she was incredibly vicious to those she considered inferior (that is, anyone unpopular). She seemed to have a special malice for “those fat nerdy goth art freaks,” as she put it. Janet and Darla were continually amazed at Britney's ability to see the two of them as one entity; Darla was overweight and had glasses and braces, while stick-thin Janet wore black everything down to her fingernails and sported various piercings and chains. In fact, the only part of the term which applied to both of them was “art,” yet that was always how the queen bitch described them. It didn't help that the heavyset, mousy Darla and the curveless, plain-faced Janet were both a little jealous of Britney's good looks and popularity...and she knew it.
Darla was loading some brushes into her bag when her locker slammed shut in front of her with a loud metallic bang. Startled, she jerked her head up to see Janet grinning at her. “Hey, J. Did I scare ya?”
Darla rolled her eyes and tried not to give her friend the satisfaction of seeing that she had made her jump. “As if. It takes more than that to get me, especially after some of the stuff that bimbo has put me through.”
“Ugh. I've told you not to bring her up during studio time. It ruins my concentration and wrecks my creativity. I can't produce anything worthwhile if I've got that annoying slut on my mind,” Janet said with a scowl. “If you've got all your stuff together, let's go. I'm ready when you are.”
“Give me a sec to get my concept sketches. I spent all weekend doing them. I can't wait to get something on canvas with those new custom-mixed paints I picked up.”
On the way to the studio, the two talked about classes, homework, plans for the weekend, their most recent paintings and drawings—anything to avoid the subject of their tormentor. However, they were rudely interrupted when they pushed open the art room's doors and were promptly doused with large buckets of cold water that had been propped over the entry. Seconds later, they heard an all-too-familiar laugh. Gasping in shock, the two girls rubbed the water out of their eyes and looked across the room at the queen bitch and her clique, who were all laughing hysterically. Catching her breath, Britney strolled casually over to her stunned victims and smirked at them.
“Hey, do you guys smell something?” she called to her cronies. “It smells like a couple of wet DOGS in here.” This was met with more laughter.
“Did you say dogs or dykes?” This from Erin Mitchell, Britney's second-in-command. “I mean, it's not like we've ever seen either of them with a boyfriend.”
“You're right about that, Erin. And they're practically joined at the hip,” Laurie Geller chimed in.
Jessie Vaughn looked slyly at the two dripping girls in the doorway and then back at her friends. “Who knows what they do when they have this room to themselves all afternoon? I know they don't spend all their time on that junk they call art. My bet is they just want some alone time with each other.”
“Now, now, girls, I'm sure they're straight,” replied Britney, still directing her haughty glare at Darla and Janet. “The reason we never see them with a guy is because the way they look, no man will have them.”
Darla felt her usual anger at the insults, amplified by the fact that she was soaking wet and cold. Beside her, she could see Janet was seething. Both of them knew from experience, though, that mouthing off to their tormentor would only make things worse. As usual, Darla shut her eyes, lowered her head, and counted slowly to ten. However, when she opened her eyes again, she looked at her open bag and saw multicolored liquid swirling around inside it. She fixed a furious gaze on Britney, and her mouth engaged without consulting her brain.
“You psychotic cunt! Do you know what you just did? My sketches, my paints, they're all ruined! How could you, you ignorant whore?!” Only then did her brain regain control of her mouth, and as it went over what she'd just said, she watched the expression on her enemy's face harden and twist in anger. Darla felt a cold dread settle into her stomach.
“What did you just call me?” Britney looked over her shoulder at her entourage. “Did you girls hear what she just called me?”
“That was the wrong thing to say,” Erin said coldly. The trio stood up and began to cross the room. “I think these two are about to do some suffering for their art.”
Suddenly, Darla's fear was blocked out by an agonizing pain that sprang up inside her mouth. Simultaneously, she felt a pinch on her nose and on the sides of her head. She reached up and tried to move her glasses but found them to be oddly snug against her. A pained yelp from beside her drew her attention, and she saw Janet feeling her various ear and face piercings with a puzzled expression. The pain and pressure in Darla's mouth were rapidly increasing, and soon blocked out all thoughts of her friend or of the four threatening women standing just in front of her.
For their part, Britney and the others had paused in confusion when their two favorite targets had unexpectedly cried out in pain and started pawing at their own faces. They were on the verge of throwing in some additional pain when an odd metallic
plink! drew their attention. They all looked down at the floor in front of Janet and saw a warped and broken piece of metal. Several more metallic sounds happened almost simultaneously, and the goth girl gave another pained cry as more pieces of metal rained down. The group looked up at Janet's face, and were shocked to see several small holes where all her piercings had been seconds before. They were more shocked when, instead of bleeding all over her face, the wounds seemed to heal themselves at lightning speed; at the same time, her lips seemed to fill in, her nose shifted slightly, her acne vanished, and a few other subtle changes occurred that improved her appearance. After a moment, Britney realized something else even more jarring. She was taller than either of these two and she knew it, but for some reason she seemed to be almost looking Janet in the eye. Before she could figure this out, however, her attention was drawn to a strikingly loud snapping noise. She turned to look at the other girl just as Darla's glasses disintegrated.
Darla couldn't understand why her glasses had inexplicably started gripping her head like a vise, but she was grateful when the frames shattered and fell off of her. Right after that, there was a series of bizarre popping sensations in her mouth, and her jaws quit aching. Then she felt several hard, square objects shifting around. She automatically spit out the unexpected...
things... and for one horrified moment thought she'd somehow lost all her teeth. However, what landed on the floor in front of her were warped bits of metal strung together by twisted wires. With a shock she realized she was looking at what was left of her braces. She reflexively ran her tongue over her teeth. To her relief, they were all there, but to her confusion, they felt perfectly straight and even. She stared down at the metal wreckage on the floor (dimly aware that she could see it in crystal clarity), the things that had gotten her called “metal mouth” and “four-eyes” for the last six years. She'd received the braces when she was 12, the same year she had to get glasses, and ever since she'd wished she didn't need them. Now it seemed her wish had instantly and inexplicably come true.
Now if only I could do something about my...what the hell? She'd moved her hands to pat the familiar bulge of her stomach, only to find it not so familiar. It felt a lot smaller, like she'd lost a lot of weight.
But then why do my clothes feel so tight?
Janet had almost screamed in agony when all her piercings had inexplicably gone crazy. It felt as though they suddenly came alive and bit into her skin. Moments later, she had felt her belly button stud snap, followed immediately by every single ring in both ears, her eyebrow, her nose, and her lip. She glanced down at the silver raining onto the floor and expected red droplets to follow, but instead felt all the pain rapidly fade. She touched her face and felt no blood. She pressed harder and didn't feel any pain, when all her piercings should have hurt like hell. Additionally, she didn't feel any acne, and there seemed to be a subtle shift in her features. Confused, Janet looked at Britney, intending to demand an explanation for what these psychos had done to them, but the queen bitch was staring right back at her in equal confusion. It hit her a moment later that she was eye-to-eye with the taller girl.
Why is she bending down? Wait—she isn't. What's going on? Suddenly, she felt her feet being constricted, as if they were in too-small shoes. She glanced downward, but then her attention was diverted by her chest. She was rather flat, to the point of not needing to wear a bra (a fact that the wicked witch had ridiculed often). However, now there were two very definite bulges under her shirt. They weren't incredibly large, but compared to how she'd been before they were quite obvious. As she watched in wide-eyed fascination, they seemed to still be growing, pressing outward against her black t-shirt. The sensation of brushing against the fabric caused her nipples to perk up, clearly visible due to her aforementioned lack of a bra. In disbelief, she cupped one in her hand and squeezed. The rush she got confirmed they were really there.
Janet's pleasurable feelings were quickly overridden by a terrible ache in her fingers as if her various rings were too tight. The discomfort in her hands increased rapidly until she felt and heard metal snapping—similar to when her piercings had broken before—and saw her jewelry splitting apart and dropping to the floor. Her hands felt instant relief, but now her feet were feeling even more compressed in her shoes. She looked down past her impossibly swelling breasts at her black sneakers. The laces appeared to be pulled taut, and she thought she could see the outline of her toes in the ends. She tried to wiggle her toes and was rewarded with the sound of canvas tearing, followed by the sight of her laces popping, rapid-fire, all the way down both shoes. As she watched, her toes slid out of the torn ends of the shoes. She felt a moment's relief, but then the tightness came back with a vengeance. She noticed then that her pants legs were up above her ankles, which was odd since she deliberately wore them long and baggy. As this thought crossed her mind she realized how tight her pants felt as well. Janet looked back up momentarily and was stunned to see that she now had to look slightly down to meet Britney's eyes. Also, she could feel her jet-black hair, which she kept short, brushing against her back just under her shoulder blades. It was also strangely dry, despite the soaking they'd just gotten.
What the hell is happening to me?
Darla was asking herself the same question. Not only had she miraculously shed her glasses and braces, but somehow all her excess fat seemed to have vanished, leaving her looking fitter than she had in her entire life. Despite that, she could feel her clothes tightening all over her body. Her bra was beginning to cause her some discomfort as well. Being overweight, she'd had large breasts anyway, but like the rest of her they'd been...well, flabby. Now, she could tell that they felt firmer and seemed to have perked up, and since her bra had been designed for a different body type needing more support, it was ill-suited to her new breasts (which also seemed to be getting bigger). The real problem, though, was coming from her white blouse. Though it had fit her comfortably before, and though she was slimmer now, it was still strained and stretched. Diamond-shaped gaps started to appear between each of the buttons. She could also feel her denim skirt biting into her waist. Her strap heels were crushing her feet. It was as if there was simply too much Darla for her available clothing to contain, and she was starting to feel squished.
Just then, she felt something at her feet give and she stumbled. Looking down, she saw that the straps on her heels had snapped, causing her feet to pop out in an instant. The sudden release had caused her to step out of the remains of her shoes and she now stood barefoot. She was distressed—not only had the heels been one of her favorite pairs, but she wore them to give herself a little height boost. Glancing at Britney, however, she was shocked to find herself looking the other girl in the eye. Judging from her expression Britney found this fact equally surprising. Darla then heard a kind of hissing and ripping sound at the same moment that the skirt digging into her waist relaxed its pressure. Embarrassed, she put her hands on the back of the garment and found that the zipper had failed, exposing her pink floral-print panties and her ass—which felt much firmer than she remembered—to anyone who might be behind her. She fleetingly thought that it was a good thing the doors had swung shut behind them. She felt a strange pressure at the back of her head, then felt the band keeping her hair in a ponytail snap. Her hair tumbled free, seemingly longer than it had been when she'd put it up that morning. Some of it hit her in the face, and she was surprised to see that not only was it not wet, it also wasn't the dull brown she knew. Instead, it had a lustrous sheen with hints of gold.
A quick shifting sensation told her something else in her clothes had given up, and it was followed by several more and then an exclamation of pain and surprise. She turned to face forward and discovered the buttons on her blouse had all shot off, and Laurie was rubbing one eye fiercely with a grimace on her face. Evidently she'd been hit by one. Darla was briefly amused by this before it occurred to her that her straining bra (a pink floral number that matched her panties) was exposed and she moved her right arm across her chest to cover herself. The movement caused her tightening right sleeve and shoulder to tear at the seams. Her destroyed blouse fell backward, now hanging behind her and held on only by the left shoulder and sleeve. Her skirt was pinching into her again, but periodic loud ripping sounds told her it wouldn't be for much longer. She could tell it was tearing downward from the bottom of the zipper. Sure enough, in seconds the rip reached the bottom and her skirt dropped off. She automatically moved her left hand to cover her groin and this made the left side of her blouse give up the ghost. She felt like she was living a nightmare—standing before her worst enemy and stripped down to her underwear in school. At that thought, she turned to face Britney and found herself looking down quite a bit to meet the blond bitch's slack-jawed shock. Somehow, though she had no idea how, Darla was now over a foot taller than the class queen, and her perspective was still rising.
Hmm...maybe not a nightmare after all...
Janet saw Darla's clothing self-destruct and realized hers was heading for the same fate. Her burgeoning breasts, which now looked like at least a C-cup, had already stretched her black t-shirt thin and she knew it wouldn't last much longer. Looking down past the ever-rising mounds, she saw the canvas of her shoes finally surrender to her growing feet and burst apart to the sides. She stepped off the rubber bottoms and shook her feet to dislodge the remaining scraps of her sneakers. She felt an incredible pressure from one back pocket and a feeling like some sharp metal digging into her from the other one. She realized it was her wallet and keys being squeezed between her body and her increasingly tight pants. She tried to remove them from her pockets, but they were too tight to get her hands into. She was also amazed to discover she had some other new curves as well. She'd always been as flat in back as she was in front, but she now had a firm, toned, well-sculpted butt. She had no idea where her newfound assets had come from, but she wasn't complaining.
I won't mind actually having to wear a bra for a change. That thought hit her at about the same time that the seams on the sides of her t-shirt started splitting. The shirt tore open up the sides, stopping partway up her still-growing boobs.
Although I kinda wish I was wearing one now.
Her attention returned to her pants as she felt the buckle of her belt twisting and warping. It gave out a second later, letting the belt tear free. This put too much pressure on the zipper and button in front of her pants, and they came apart violently. The zipper tore downward so fast that the rip actually continued down into the crotch of her pants. Her continued growth caused this tear to continue to spread down, under, and then back up the seat of her pants to the waist. She found herself wearing two separate pants legs as the severed waist flapped loosely to the sides. Her panties—black, just like everything else she wore—were exposed to the room, but she was relieved to be free of the keys and wallet pressing into her ass. Her legs were still in considerable discomfort, though, since the fabric of her pant legs was wrapped as tight as a sausage skin. Janet appeared to be wearing black leggings. The illusion vanished moments later, along with the cloth, as the seams failed and split open, and her ruined pants dropped to the floor. She was mortified to be so exposed in front of her tormentors and thought she couldn't feel more embarrassed. Then she realized the sleeves on her t-shirt were popping at the seams, and the rest of the shirt followed after. As thrilled as she was to finally have breasts, she was less thrilled to have them out for public viewing. She crossed her arms over her chest as her face reddened. Beneath her arms, she could feel her now D-cups continuing to swell, and she was aware of the rest of her body still expanding.
Britney and her drones stood frozen in shock as the two “art freaks” changed before their eyes. None of the four knew what to make of the piercings, glasses, and braces being suddenly ejected from the two girls. They were more surprised when their victims' clothing started tearing apart. They were astounded as they watched Darla's fat disappear and Janet's curves appear. They were then utterly dumbstruck as their favorite targets grew bigger and bigger (and increasingly busty and beautiful). None of them, not even Britney, made so much as one wisecrack about their state of undress, perhaps realizing that further cruelty was not an intelligent move. In any case, the two girls weren't totally naked; their undergarments, though looking somewhat stretched and strained, had kept up with them somewhat. When Darla and Janet finally stopped growing, they had to bend down slightly to fit under the nine-foot ceiling of the art studio. The two of them looked around in amazement (equal to the amazement felt by their persecutors, no doubt).
“Wow, J, we're huge,” said Darla, in equal parts joy and amusement.
“And hot. You look great, D! All your extra weight just...poof! And your hair looks terrific, too.” replied Janet.
“I look great? Look at you! Your complexion's clear, your face is beautiful, and...wow, I mean, look at the huge tits you grew!” Darla returned with a grin.
“Speaking of...” Janet uncrossed her arms and picked up the shredded remains of her pants. She tried to extract her keys and wallet, but couldn't fit her hand into the pockets. After a moment, she casually tore the pockets off, letting the contents fall to the floor. She tied the legs together and fashioned the cloth into a crude covering for her chest. “I actually need to cover the girls up now,” she said giddily.
“Hey, if you've got it, flaunt it. You ought to show those off, they're incredible.”
“You ended up with a pretty nice set yourself, D.”
Erin chose that moment to do something incredibly stupid. She leaned forward and mumbled to Britney, “Told you they were muff-divers.”
Darla and Janet's heads instantly whipped around and glared at the foursome, all of whom suddenly looked as if they might throw up at any moment. Darla fixed Erin with a look that could have cut diamonds. “I know this concept might not fit in your brain, especially with all those insults and cheerleading routines taking up so much of the limited space available, but maybe we're just happy for each other. You and everyone else has mocked us since junior high for our looks. And even though it was cruel and vicious, we're not stupid, and we have mirrors at home. We knew there was truth to it. Now, out of the blue, we're gorgeous. In fact, I'd venture to say we're better-looking than any of you bitches.”
“You can say that again,” Janet interjected with a grin.
Darla smiled at her, then turned her fierce glare back to Erin. “As I was saying. We're thrilled for each other, and we make some flattering remarks in jest, like, say, BEST FRIENDS might do, and that's supposed to be proof we're lesbians?” She paused briefly, then added, “Maybe I used 'ignorant whore' on the wrong person.”
Janet shrugged. “Oh, I don't know, D, I think it applies to all of them fairly well.” As she stared at Britney, a smile spread across her face that chilled the once-taller girl. “Say, D...didn't these ladies say something about making us suffer for our art?”
“You know, J, I think maybe they did.” Darla cracked her knuckles and looked at the four cheerleaders with a similar unsettling smile.
Later that afternoon, the school custodian entered the art studio to sweep up and empty the trash bins. The sight of four weeping, bruised girls, stripped naked and bound and gagged by torn strips of their own clothes, was quite a nasty shock for him and nearly caused him to faint. The really puzzling thing was how, and why, someone would have laid them out on top of the seven-foot-high art supplies cabinet, and why the red handprint welts on their faces and bare asses were so abnormally large...