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The walls were closing around her, almost literally, but she still had room enough to grow into but the very fact that she was growing frightened her. Chairs tables even the walls started to dwarf right in front of her terrified eyes. Jennie, still in the throes of panic, gasped as she heard the denim minishorts rip, the sound was lingering unlike many quick rips shed heard when she added purposeful character to her attire by manually ripping. Her hands, still in the mists of growing, smoothly ran along her thighs upon the tearing shorts, she could feel herself grow, perhaps more so she could feel its effects as it took a toll upon her slipping denim fibers. Urgently, her fingers, still dexterous, quickly undid her button upon the shorts to allow her some breathing room but before she could complete the task, the button popped off with ease and shot to a button toward a chair, the sound it made was unmistakable metallic. Her perfect white teeth clenched at her lower lip, sucking and. “Anyone down there,” she hollered at the top of the basement steps, “I will kill you, you know that!” It was just after midnight, and Rebecca stood back, gun clenched in her white-knuckled fists, teeth chattering. She had Dad’s ear protectors around her neck, but didn’t expect to need them. Still, their weight was comforting. She wondered that she hadn’t suffered a heart attack from the unbelievable stress tonight.“I’m passed out in that stupid bedroom,” she muttered. “Trippin’ on whatever Gunther put in those fucking cigarettes.” It didn’t matter, nor did she catch the inaccuracy of her words. She had never tried a cigarette in her life, and never would, she thought incorrectly. “I’m coming down, and I have a fucking shotgun, you morons!”The basement was finished and the steps carpeted; no one could trip her going down. Midway, she halted and yelled out her warning again, clutching the stock so tightly it made her hands cramp. She forced them to loosen, demanded her index finger.
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