Approaching the door, you could hear commotion behind it. A distinctly familiar deep voice was talking, and you decided to investigate further. Climbing atop a nearby crate and pushing small box of gummy out of the way, you could kinda see what was happening inside the office through the window next to the door. Your uncle Gary, which you never saw very often, was standing over a pile of clothes, his back turned to the window. There was something tan in his hands and he was slowly squishing it into a sphere. Glad to see a familiar face, you banged on the window with your fist, trying to get his attention, the pane of glass smushing your hands with each strike. You managed a low tapping sound, and he heard it. His body turned, and you could clearly see the cause of commotion. In his hands was an orbs of sorts, but there was an outline of a face, dad's face. You had heard stories of what Gary did to him when they were younger, but you figured that the stories were fake, and to keep you from doing anything stupid. A story your father told you about was a time he was poured into your mother's lip gloss by Gary when they were teens, and ultimately turned into a bra for his mother when she mistakes him for an orb.
Gary grabbed a plastic bag off your father's desk and stuffed him into it, sealing it. Tossing the clothes into the garbage can next to the desk, he stood up, and began walking towards the door. Shaking your head no, you realized that you needed to run and hide, or you were going to share the same fate as your father in that bag. You hopped down off the crate, which was a big mistake. Your landing spot was right in front of the door, and your feet squished as you landed, trapping you in one place.
The door flew open, and as if it was a game of improvised baseball, launched you off the catwalk and into the vast machinery below. Gary looked around outside of the door, wondering who had knocked on the window, not even noticing what happened. Shrugging, he carried Jack down towards the assembly line. You on the other hand, landed on a conveyor belt just past the loading area. The impact caused you to be squished, and as you rolled, your body became an orbed shape. The conveyer belt carried you through various machines, one of which removed all the gravel and dirt in your body. A second machine on the line submerged you in a bath of soapy water, washing whatever funky smell you had picked up from the tires.
Finally, the belt carried you to a sorter, which would send orbs to different parts if the line to be crafted into specific types of clothing. The whole factory was completely automated, except for maintenance and shipping. As you passed through one of the many dividers, Gary approached your line, swapping the orb in front of you for your father, which he grabbed from the bag and set in its place. Chucking the spare orb over his shoulder, he leaned down and whispered something to him. It was along the lines of “It's about time you were put where you belong. I'll make sure you get sent to a local store. Maybe Mary will buy you, for old times’ sake. Or maybe I'll see you on a passing jogger. Goodbye squishy.” Gary said, typing something into the nearby computer.
A pair of claws lifted him, twisting his body in various ways. The claws then began folding and stretching him into the shape of a pair of skin-tight female exercising shorts. When they finished, the outline of his face had been pushed to the back of the shorts, before it was covered in a black spray from a sprayer, hiding all human features. The machine set him back down onto the belt, and picked you up. The arms pulled at your body, stretching you this way and that. Your legs were stretched into one continuous strap, and each of your arms were stretched over to connect to them, creating the shoulder and back strap. Your face was separated into the center of two cups, your eyes in the left one, and your mouth in the other. The machine has molded you into a sports bra! Gasping in horror, a dark purple spray began covering you, cementing you in place, your mouth agape, and your eyes wide open. The spray must be mixed with Beta 4! The grape taste of the spray filled your mouth, before absorbing completely into you, keeping your mouth open. The spray covered your eyes, cementing you in place, hiding all human features, but somehow allowing you to still see. It would literally be impossible for anybody to distinguish you from the the others coming from the line.
The machine set you down onto a pile of similar bras, the front of the bra facing down, allowing you to see out. Next to you was a pile of form-fitting exercise shorts, with your formed father at the top of them. If only you could show him you were in the same boat as him, and if he got rescued, come to your aid as well. But, not even he knew you were here. You're body was now flexible as a standard sports bra, but damn near unbreakable and you would never wear out, retaining that soft feeling of new clothing. That's why people love gummy clothing; they last forever. The next and final step of the production line had you most concerned, packaging.
Gary walked over to the table where you both were sitting, and opened a shipping cardboard box. He smirked as he lifted your father's stack and set them in, and then as he set yours next to it, closing the flaps of the box, sealing you inside. In the darkness, you heard him slap a upping label on it, and loaded it onto a truck. About 2 hours later after constant bumps and turns, the box was removed from he truck, and a few minutes later, set down somewhere. The box opened up to reveal a rather attractive, fit looking woman in a Trak Sports store uniform. She began hooking your fathers pile with hangers, setting them on the rack with your father being the last put on the rack, leaving him the first to be grabbed. Finished putting the skin-tight running shorts on the rack, she moved on to your pile. Hooking the hangars in each one, she lifted your pile and set them on the rack, you being the first in row as well, with the front sticking out. With your face shoved into the bra behind you, you couldn't see a thing. It must have been opening time, because as soon as the girl left, a hand began flipping through the bras, obviously looking for their size. A hand grabbed you and pulled you out, and the first thing you noticed was your father in the hands of Stacy, being forced into the crotch of the woman to compare the fit. Looking up past your future owner’s breasts, you could see that it was…
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
