Fuuka smiled softly as she stepped inside the club's meeting room, offering a quiet "Hello" to those assembled. Despite it being a Saturday afternoon, they'd managed to get a near-perfect turnout, much to Fuuka's surprise. The others must really be dedicated, she thought. What didn't surprise her were all the sewing machines situated in a loose circle around the room's center, as if they were loitering there. Keisuke had been pleased to inform his fellow club mates that the school had provided them with new equipment at last, and while several of them had grumbled about how sewing hardly counted as art, Fuuka was willing to at least give it a try.
Thursday's meeting had been cancelled due to the grumblers informing Keisuke that they would return as soon as they got back to painting. Despite Fuuka's presence that day, she'd been forced to re-attend once their bespectacled club leader informed the dissenters that they needed to at least try the sewing machines out, and that if everyone really hated them, they never had to use them again; a fair compromise, in Fuuka's book.
It was with this attitude that the art club met once more. The grumbling ceased after a few minutes, and some of the assembled students found themselves actually doing an alright job; Fuuka was not one of those students, unfortunately. Her affinity for technology didn't extend to devices as old as the provided sewing machines, and it didn't take long for her to wind up with a completely hopeless doily. Keisuke offered to help her, but she just smiled sheepishly and told him she'd figure it out.
That was when everything started to go downhill for Fuuka. If she'd known what was about to happen, she'd have skipped the meeting altogether.
On about her fourth attempt at spinning her yarn into something even remotely workable, Fuuka found her machine stopping all of a sudden. Frowning with frustration, and worried she might have somehow broken it, she got to her feet and leaned over the machine, lightly hitting it with the palm of her small hand. She wasn't usually keen on "fixing" machines like that, but with a machine that old, she wondered if it didn't just need a light jostling. To her credit, her surprise, that seemed to do the trick.
However, as Fuuka sat back down, she failed to notice a few stray threads from her skirt getting stuck in the needle of the machine. Glad to see she'd finally done something right, she quietly continued trying to actually sew something, gradually unraveling her own skirt inch-by-inch.
It took her a few minutes and two more failed attempts to realize something was wrong, and by that time, her skirt was a full three inches shorter! It was barely even covering her underwear now, and the machine was still going! With a quiet "Eep!", Fuuka attempted to tug her skirt back down to her knees, willing it to get longer again. Needless to say, that didn't work, and more and more of Fuuka's white nylons peeked out from under her quickly-shortening skirt.
What was she going to do? She needed to stop the machine, or soon she would end up losing her skirt! But she couldn't stand up; not like this. If the others realized what she'd accidentally done to herself, she'd never hear the end of it.
Fuuka felt her cheeks turning red as she decided to-
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author