One Week at Wolf Lake NEW 5/31 (Growth, sex, other tags inside)

[qzar9999]

Volfsbayne: You'll see no "poof" from me, believe me. I'm a big fan of the process as well as The Process.

Lezlo: Thanks, glad you're enjoying it. It's flattering that someone would de-lurk to comment on my work.

tsokei: Thanks for the feedback. I do try hard to avoid mechanical errors- I even worry about my phrasing, because typos and poorly-worded things can damage my immersion into something.

Little bit of plot here at the start of "Tuesday." Next scene is gonna be some growth, so stay tuned!

* * * * *

ONE WEEK AT WOLF LAKE
DAY TWO: RUBY TUESDAY
CONTAMINATION: 30%

Carla was sitting at the front desk of Dr. Matthews' office, perusing a notebook and occasionally pausing to look up at the clock. Yesterday, she'd needed to go over her CHC notes but hadn't had time due to a busy day at the office. Today, hardly anyone had come in. Even the call volume had been light, and anyway the doctor preferred to take all calls himself on slow days like this. Since she'd left her novel at home, the only thing Carla had to pass the time was the notebook, but today she didn't need to. Of course things would work out that way, she thought to herself. On the other hand, going over the notes from the past few meetings, including last night's, she'd picked up an oddity that she might not have noticed otherwise. Her reverie was interrupted by the telltale squeak of the door opening, and she looked up to see Will strolling through the door.

“Morning, babe. Slow day today?”

“You could say that,” she replied. “Or you could say I'm bored out of my mind, that also works.”

He leered and waggled his eyebrows. “I can fix that. Want to step into the storeroom with me for a few minutes?”

“Will!” she gasped, blushing. “Behave yourself, we're in public!”

“Not my fault if you're easily embarrassed, short stuff.” He paused a moment while trying to read her notes from the other side of the desk. “So whatcha got there?”

“My CHC notebook. I'm looking over some past meetings.”

“Again? I thought you had to have that done yesterday.”

“I did. This is something else. I've noticed something a little unusual,” she said.

“What? A bunch of people sitting in a room listening to some self-important bitch drag on while they whine about this town's primary source of employment? Kidding,” he added hastily in response to the look she shot him.

“I'm serious, Will. It's just some of the things Vanessa has been saying lately. It's like...” She sighed. “I don't know. She seems to think that something major—a big screwup on behalf of the plant—is going to happen very soon.”

He shrugged. “She always says that. A lot of your group does.”

“This is different. It's almost like she KNOWS something's going on. I can't put my finger on any one thing she's said or done; it's just an impression I get from the overall picture.” She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “Or maybe I'm paranoid and reading too much into stuff. What do you think?”

“I think I should take you out to lunch and let you clear your head, hon. Personally, I think you're worrying about nothing.”

“Maybe you're right. Then again, you wouldn't notice an oncoming train until it hit you,” she chuckled.

“Hey, I represent that allegation. You ready to go?”

[Mr Wayne]

Qzar9999,

As much as I love by habit to skip straight to the good process stuff in finished FG stories, having dabbled in creative writing myself as well as reading up on contemporary murder mystery fiction I do have an appreciation for an author to provide a solid plot overall. The process might be what I crave, but so is the genuine quality of the details. And since this story should turn out to be quite lengthy that just makes for all the more pull to keep readers hooked.

*Makes some truly comical hand motions and gestures to indicate like I am hooked by a fisherman's line.. bait, sinker, and all... before finally falling off of my chair to spite the crowd's boisterous cheering and laughing*

**Then gives Qzar my best Oliver impersonation, but without speaking the famous line**

[qzar9999]

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...

[Mr Wayne]

Qzar9999,

See what happens when I walk away from my iPod Touch 5G and miss the *DING!* indicating a new e-mail/story segment posted here?? Sneaky. I adamantly applaud your quality writing and putting so much effort into actual plot. Trust me, I have nothing but 2 Thumbs Up for the story so far. If I could, I'd find a third, fourth, and fifth one. B)

**Way to go for the castaways of society, getting the payback they so deserve. The beautification parts was something I'm not as used to but you blended it in quite well with the FG parts. Looking forward to more for sure.**

[qzar9999]

Originally Posted by Volfsbayne

Qzar9999,

See what happens when I walk away from my iPod Touch 5G and miss the *DING!* indicating a new e-mail/story segment posted here?? Sneaky.

I'm like a ninja. Who writes fetish stories. And has no martial arts training. And identifies with an anthropomorphic starpilot wolf. So nothing like a ninja really. ^_^

Originally Posted by Volfsbayne

I adamantly applaud your quality writing and putting so much effort into actual plot. Trust me, I have nothing but 2 Thumbs Up for the story so far. If I could, I'd find a third, fourth, and fifth one. B)

I hear they're having a special down at Appendage World.

[Mr Wayne]

Originally Posted by qzar9999

I hear they're having a special down at Appendage World.

Qzar9999,

On second thought, given the way you made "appendage" sound I've quickly changed my mind. LOL. You have to admit I did set myself up for that. Shame, shame. Either way, my two ThumbS are plenty.


**Additional Comment**
And here I thought you just posted the next segment when I heard my iPod chime, but there was nothing here... Yet. B;-)

[tsokei]

Awesome!! Great chapter full of win.

[qzar9999]

Volfsbayne: Glad you felt the two different elements blended well. There actually is some method to my madness, the beautification stuff is actually there for a reason. I mean, a reason other than "making the giantesses even hotter." Not that that's a bad reason in itself.

tsokei: Thanks for your feedback! Glad you're enjoying it.

And now, a selection of plot, brought to you by Star Wolf Squadron.

* * * * *

Vanessa waited outside the office for her boss. As soon as Mark stepped out of the building, she shut the door and locked up, glad to be done for the day. All day long, her (mostly male) coworkers had been staring more than usual and asking her if she'd done something with her hair, or had been for a spa treatment, or was wearing some new perfume...it was like they thought something was different about her but couldn't place what. She knew, of course, that she had put on a few pounds lately, as made obvious by the fact that all her clothes were a little too snug on her. She supposed she should be happy they were all mistakenly attributing it to some positive change, but it was still annoying to get it all day long. And then there was the other thing she'd been getting all day long...

“I really appreciate you volunteering to take these records home with you and look over them again, Vanessa,” Mark said. “The cops are really riding my ass about the accident on the highway, and I don't think they believe me when I tell them I have no idea how any of that happened. If you turn anything up, call me on my cell. I don't care how late it is.” He flashed her a smile. “This means a lot to me, you doing this on your own time.”

“Sure thing, Mark. I don't mind, really.” She smiled back. Truthfully, she did mind. She could think of a hundred things she'd rather be doing than going over the Northwestern Resources records in her free time. But Mark had made some thinly veiled suggestions that, as her official duties involved keeping track of the records, she had better find something and fast, or start looking for a new job. It was a bad situation all around: Police had found a man lying on Lake View Road near a fallen tree Sunday night. The man had been found unconscious, carried no ID, and was currently comatose in the hospital, but they were assuming he was a truck driver, as the scene suggested a large vehicle had gone through the guardrail. The hillside immediately next to the road had been clear-cut, and evidence indicated a log pile had tumbled down and knocked the vehicle off the road. As Northwestern Resources had exclusive logging rights in the area, they were logically the ones responsible. However, they weren't supposed to cut that close to the road, nor were they to have log stacks in potentially dangerous positions. More worrisome was that there was no record of any recent authorized operation in that part of the woods. Essentially, the police were demanding answers from Northwestern, specifically from Mark, and he didn't have any, so he was demanding answers from somebody who, if she didn't have them, would make a convenient scapegoat.

Thus Vanessa found herself in the hot seat. She forced another smile and waved at Mark. “Hopefully I'll have this figured out by tomorrow. You go home and get some rest, try not to worry about this.” You prick. The really troubling thing was, since Mark had been unable to find anything in the records, what he was really asking her to do was fabricate something that would at least seem plausible. That was what was really going to take all her free time. All this nuisance, coupled with the stress from putting on weight, made her very cranky. And since she was worried about gaining weight, she couldn't take the edge off with chocolate, either. At least she didn't have to worry about another CHC meeting until next month. That reminds me... She pulled out her cell phone as she strolled to her car. On the third ring it was answered.

“Thank you for calling the office of Dr. Bruce Matthews. Do you need to make an appointment?”

“Carla! Hi! It's Vanessa!”

“Oh, hey, Van,” came a rather flat reply.

“You don't sound too happy to hear from me, Carla.”

“Oh, no, it's not you, sorry. I just had a stressful day yesterday, and today was monotonous. I'm glad it's over.”

“I know what you mean. I had the day from hell today. Mark is coming down hard on me to find an explanation for that accident I told you about. I'll have about as much luck finding it in the records as I would asking a Magic Eight Ball.” Vanessa paused for a moment. “Actually I might try that. I can't do any worse. Anyway, I had question to ask you.”

“Shoot.”

“This might sound a little out there, but, has anyone come in to the doctor's office with any, like, strange illnesses?”

The note of confusion and curiosity in Carla's voice was evident. “Strange? Strange how?”

“I don't know, just, out of the ordinary. Not the common cold, or the flu, or allergies—I don't know, maybe just something you don't see very often. Maybe brought on by contact with lake water?”

“Nothing I've seen. What's this about the lake water?” Now the curiosity was much sharper.

“Well, you know. The cops won't come out and say anything, so I don't have any hard facts, but what if that accident was a truck full of chemicals falling into the lake? There could be an entire tanker's worth of poison saturating the water as we speak!”

“Seriously, Van? I don't like Talbot-Lucian any more than you do, but not telling us about a hazardous chemical spill in our drinking water? I'm pretty sure they're not THAT evil.”

“Well. Can't say I agree with you there,” replied Vanessa. Hearing an annoyed sound, she quickly added, “Look, just do me a favor. If someone does come in with something weird, will you let me know?”

“Come on, Van. You know about confidentiality and all that.”

“You don't have to give me specifics. I'm just wanting to know if John or Jane Doe comes in with something bizarre. I'm not asking for names and medical histories, here.”

There was a significant pause, as if Carla were debating saying something. Finally, she did. “Listen...do you know something I don't? Is something going on I should know about?”

“What do you mean, 'going on'?”

“I don't know, it's just that...when I was going over the notes for our last few meetings, I just got the impression that maybe you knew something was up. And then with the way you were acting last night...”

“It's nothing, Carla. Sorry if I've seemed a little on-edge. I'm just concerned about a worst-case scenario. I mean, I could be right about that being a truck full of chemicals. You know I could. So would let me know if you see any weirdo stuff come walking into Doc Matthews' office?”

An exasperated sigh. “Okay, fine, you win. If I see something, I'll let you know.”

“Thanks. You're a real pal. Anyway, let me go. I've got stuff to do when I get home.”

“All right, Van. Catch you later.”

[Mr Wayne]

More plot?? Do we have ta'? Lol. *Does my best to sound like a whining little kid*

Qzar9999,

A little something I've picked up through the years while using forums like these is not to quote a long post of writing or pictures. FYi. Essentially double posting like that drives me nuts, which isn't that hard to do anymore. ^_^ Minimizes eye strain. Lol. I try my best to keep the craziness to a minimum.

Nice job so far with the whole story, and we're not even at the quarter mile mark. Makes me wonder why you don't write books for a living.

[qzar9999]

Did I quote a long post of writing or pictures, or were you reminding yourself not to do that? I'm confused...

I should be an author, eh? That's possibly one of the most complimentary things that's been said to me about anything I've written. Thanks!

[Mr Wayne]

Qzar9999,

No, no. You didn't quote anything that took up space. I was just saying how I try to keep a thread as organized as possible. Less clutter. ^_^ Yvw for the compliment, too.

[qzar9999]

Sorry for the delay, folks. Got caught up writing a quick SW story. ^_^

On to the next part. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your Wolf Lake High Varsity Swim Team!

* * * * *

Jenna Fischer stood outside the locker room, waiting on the womens' swim team to finish changing into their swimsuits. Today was one of their unofficial practices, and she was already suited up and eager to get her team into the water. There was a state meet next month, and Coach Summers had permitted Jenna, as team captain, to schedule two voluntary practices a week in addition to the mandatory Wednesday and Saturday practices that the athletic department scheduled. Not all the girls showed up for the voluntary ones, but she usually got a decent turnout. Sometimes the coach showed up to help her run them, but today she was preparing for the volleyball game later. Jenna watched as today's participants—Catalina Mendes, Monique Smalls, Karen Carr, and Julie Yu—filed out of the locker room in the school's official blue-and-white one-piece team swimsuits, complete with matching swim caps and blue goggles with white rims.

“Afternoon, ladies,” she said with a smile. “I thought we would start with a few quick speed laps to warm up. Sound good?” At the chorus of agreement, she directed them to get in their starting positions. She stood ready in her lane, poised to dive into the pool, with her hand on the wristband that held her special waterproof stopwatch. “On my mark. Ready...mark!” As she called this, she tapped the start button on her timer and threw herself headfirst into the pool. Jenna pushed herself hard; she was hoping to beat her personal best either this week or sometime before the meet. As she flew across the pool, flipped off of the opposite wall, and started furiously swimming back, she saw brief glimpses of the other girls moving fast as well. She was one of the fastest on her team. The other girls got lucky sometimes, and Jenna had a bad day sometimes, but the only girl who could beat her with any consistency was Julie. She risked a quick glance while her head was turned that way and sure enough, the petite Asian girl was slightly ahead of her. Julie's lithe, streamlined build and small size were definite assets and made her the unquestionable choice in any individual events. She probably could have been the captain, but she preferred to be Jenna's co-captain.

Jenna tagged the wall less than two seconds after Julie and climbed out immediately. The other three girls finished seconds later, first Karen, then Monique, then Catalina (who, while still speedy, was slightly more generously proportioned than her teammates and so had a little more drag to overcome). Jenna tapped the button on her stopwatch and called out the time. “Okay. Not bad. Not bad at all. Especially not for the first one today. But I know we can do even better. Get in your starting positions.” She reset the watch and assumed her position. “Ready...mark!” She again started the watch as she dove in and stroked furiously. She reached the far side and tapped the wall, but when she flipped herself around, she felt...different, somehow. Her body sense was telling her something was slightly off. Also, on the way back, she seemed to be feeling more resistance than she was used to, and her motions felt increasingly awkward.

When she finally touched the wall and got out, she was startled to see that not only had she beaten Julie back by almost a second, but that Catalina had beaten both of them. She looked just as surprised as Jenna felt. Once they were all out, she stopped the watch and saw that this time they'd come in about five seconds slower than their previous time. Very unusual, since they typically improved slightly on the second run. Annoyed, Jenna announced their new time and saw expressions of unpleasant surprise on her teammates' faces. “All right, ladies, let's get it in gear! We won't win any meets if we start slowing down! Positions!” She again reset the watch and readied herself. She was mildly disconcerted to find that even the ready position felt unfamiliar, but she shrugged it off and tried to focus. “Ready...mark!”

This crossing was even worse. Jenna felt even more resistance than last time, and every stroke seemed to increase the drag even more. All her strokes felt strange, as if her limbs weren't moving correctly. She misjudged the position of the far wall and slammed her hand painfully against it. Her turnaround was slow and cumbersome, and on the return trip she started to feel as if her swimsuit and cap were squeezing her, which made no sense—like most swim wear, the material was stretchy. When she returned to the starting end of the pool, her feet touched the bottom sooner than she'd thought, and she slipped and nearly fell backward before recovering. This time she was the first one back, and when the other girls came in and she stopped the timer, she was stunned and dismayed to see that they'd lost almost ten seconds from their prior attempt; in terms of winning a swimming competition, ten seconds might as well be forever. She felt the beginnings of what was likely to be a massive headache. “What the hell, girls? What's wrong with this picture?”

“I don't know,” said an obviously distressed Julie. “I feel really...weird. Awkward. My timing is off, my strokes are off, and I feel like my suit is pinching me.” She tugged at the shoulder straps and winced.

“You too?” said Catalina. “I feel like mine's compressing my chest.”

Karen smiled slyly. “You oughta be used to it, with those two flotation devices you carry around in front of you.”

“It's not my fault you have nothing to show off,” retorted Catalina. “It's not like mine are THAT big.” However, as she fidgeted with the chest of her suit, she had second thoughts. The suit was making them look bigger than they were. She removed her goggles from her face and gently rubbed her eyes, wondering if she needed to adjust her contacts.

Jenna felt her headache getting worse. She was about to bring the conversation back on track when the usually quiet Monique spoke up. “I don't know about you girls, but my goggles are absolutely killing me. Jen, I need a break for a few minutes. I've got to get these things off.” So saying, she tried to remove them, but seemed to have trouble. She grimaced as she pulled harder on them, trying to get enough slack to get them over her head—and the elastic strap snapped and whipped around, stinging her hand as she dropped them. “Ouch! Shit! Great, now I need a new set,” she scowled.

“Now that you mention it, mine too,” said Julie. “And I think my cap is too tight.” She pulled her goggles off (she had better luck than Monique) and removed her cap, causing her black hair to tumble free.

“Jules...did you get your hair done or something? It looks different,” said Karen, taking off her goggles as well.

“No. It's the same as it was at last week's practice.” Julie again tugged at her suit's shoulder straps, then looked down at herself in confusion.

Jenna noticed what Karen meant—Julie's hair looked more voluminous and quite a bit longer than usual. She quickly pushed the thought aside, though, as her headache was rapidly intensifying. She realized that it was centered around her eyes; she must be having the same problem with her goggles. She tried to pull them off, but they broke in half at the bridge of her nose. She stared at the shattered plastic in her hand in confusion. She felt much better almost instantaneously, but still had a slight headache. She then realized her swim cap was tightening on her, putting steadily increasing pressure on the top of her head. Suddenly, it popped off, comically flying off her scalp. Her hair fell free and hit her in the back, and she could tell that it was longer, much like Julie's. She had a thought. “Hey, Karen, Monique, Catalina—take off your swim caps.” When they did, she could see that the same thing had happened to the other three girls. Also, Monique's carefully woven braid had come undone, and Karen's curly perm had straightened out. What's happening here? From the looks on her teammates' faces, she knew they were thinking the same thing. Before she could take this train of thought further, Catalina derailed it.

“Damn! This suit is too damn tight. It's getting hard to breathe in here!” Jenna turned to look at Catalina trying to stretch out the chest of her suit and her eyes nearly popped out. Catalina had always had the largest breasts out of the girls on the team. They weren't huge, probably only a 34 C at most, but noticeably larger than the other girls. She was teased about it constantly since, despite any other benefits, endowments like that were a liability in a sport where the competitors wanted the least amount of resistance. Now, however, it was obvious to even casual observation that she'd grown. Her boobs were pushing out the suit's front much more than they had earlier today, so much so that she looked like she ought to be running in slow-motion on a certain TV show. Quite a bit of flesh was poking out of the top and sides of the chest of her swimsuit, and a significant amount of cleavage was on display.

Jenna turned to her co-captain and started to say “Are you seeing what I'm seeing?” but her words caught in her throat. The same thing was happening to Julie. Catalina's growth was noticeable, of course, but it was much more apparent on the formerly petite Asian girl. Julie had been an A-cup ever since Jenna had known her, so the obvious pair of breasts pressing against her suit was startling. Julie was looking down at herself in amazement. She raised her gaze to meet Jenna's, and the team captain had another jarring realization: Julie, who was four inches shorter, was looking her in the eye. Jenna tried to make sense of this, but heard a sudden snap in her left ear. Glancing down, she saw the broken left strap of her swimsuit dangling down in front of her chest—and now she saw that she was also experiencing unexplained growth. Her breasts were definitely larger. Also, the strap breaking made her realize just how much tighter her suit felt than it should have. It seemed to be compressing her all over; she felt like she was inside a tube of toothpaste. The squeezing sensation kept getting more and more intense as she watched her tits continue to swell. Tearing her gaze away from the impossible sight, she looked at Monique and Karen and saw they shared the same predicament. In fact, one of Monique's straps had already broken, and that side of her suit had flopped down, exposing the brown skin of one enlarging breast. Monique had covered it with her hand in embarrassment, but it was already more than a handful and spilling over the sides.

“Shit! Nobody move! I lost my contacts!” shouted Catalina. Forgetting her situation for a moment, she dropped to all fours to look on the floor. Instantly a loud tearing sound was heard, followed by a startled cry from the frantic girl, who quickly stood back up, holding a hand over her groin as her face reddened. Julie noticed with some surprise that the crotch of Catalina's suit had split when she had dropped down. The bottomless girl was looking around at her teammates, turning a deep shade of crimson. However, after a few moments, her embarrassed look was replaced by one of amazement. “I...I can see. I can see! Even better than I could with my contacts! Wow!” She briefly forgot her nudity and unthinkingly relaxed her arm, but quickly snapped back to reality. “Wow,” she said again. “What the hell's happening to me? To us?” She looked at Jenna, who thought that she, like Julie, looked inexplicably taller.

“I wish I knew,” said Jenna. She shrugged, and felt her other shoulder strap pop. “At least it's happening to all of us...”

“What good is that?” snapped Karen, holding one arm against the front of her suit. Her broken straps dangled over her arm, and her engorging breasts were rising out of the top of her swimsuit. “I mean, what, are we supposed to start a support group? This is weird!”

“All I'm saying is, at least it's not just happening to one of us. Wouldn't you feel a bit freakish if your boobs just suddenly got bigger while the rest of us just stood here and stared?”

“News flash, Jen: I feel kinda freakish anyway! The fact that it's happening to you guys just makes me think we're ALL freaks!” Karen yelled.

Jenna started to spit out an angry retort, but Julie cut her off. “Um, Jen, I don't think it's just our boobs. I mean, is it me, or are we getting...bigger...all over?”

“That's crazy, Jules. People don't just--” Jenna suddenly froze as she felt a new and unwelcome sensation. “Oh, crap.” Her swimsuit was beginning to pull taut between her butt cheeks, which wasn't good, since these weren't thongs. The troubling feeling, though, came from the sides of the suit from her ribs to her thighs, where she could feel the stretchy material reaching its limit and starting to tear. In seconds, the sides split and the suit tore off of her, leaving her suddenly nude. “Aaahh!” she cried as she tried to cover herself with her hands. As she did so, she could feel just how much bigger her chest was.

“You were saying?” said Julie, just as the top half of her suit exploded, leaving her naked above the waist and revealing that she had grown quite large breasts in the past few minutes. The bottom half didn't look to last much longer. She put an arm across her chest and looked at Jenna with an eyebrow cocked. “If you still don't believe me, look up.” This statement was punctuated by the sound of the rest of her suit ripping off.

“What are you...” Jenna trailed off as she unthinkingly did exactly that and found the pool room's ceiling looked a lot closer than fifteen feet. From her perspective it looked more like eight or nine, and was steadily coming down.

“Why is this happening to us?” moaned Karen as her swimsuit disintegrated. She, too, was watching the roof lowering towards them.

“Beats me,” Catalina chimed in. Jenna glanced at her and saw that she, too, was naked, but she wasn't bothering to cover up. “But at least now you won't be able to tease me for having the biggest boobs on the team anymore. Pot, kettle, black,” she added with a grin. “Damn. I don't think they make bras in our size, but it looks like none of us are smaller than a double D.” A thoughtful look crossed her features. “Of course in our case it might be more like four or five D's...”

Monique cleared her throat loudly and shot Catalina a no-nonsense look. “Speaking of the team, I don't think we'll be allowed to participate like this. I mean, I think it's stopped,” she paused to look up at the ceiling, which looked to only be about two feet above them, “but I'm sure someone will say that thirteen-foot-tall swimmers have an unfair advantage in crossing a standard pool, don't you?”

“Oh, shit, you're right.” Jenna looked crestfallen. “We're definitely not going to get to compete.”

Monique nodded. “So unless someone figures this out and fixes it before the meet, we're going to be in a lot of trouble.”

“Well, they don't have to fix it all the way, do they?” The other four girls looked at Julie curiously. “What? Just because it was good for my sport doesn't mean I LIKED being short, skinny, and flat-chested. I mean, I don't want to be a giantess, but if it's all the same to you I'd like to keep these,” she said as she cupped her newly enlarged breasts.