Tests in this local Potion Factory~ #1

Dear readers,
Okay, wow. It looks like my first test has come already.
The witch just pushed me into the room I’m staying in, handed me a vile of some yellow liquid, and told me to take it and write as it takes effect.
I really don’t want to drink it… but I’m sure she’ll shove it down my throat if I don’t do it willingly…
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Alright, I debated with myself about it for a while. I don’t think I have much of a choice. I can’t leave the shop. And I can’t even leave my room currently. I don’t think anyone’s coming to save me, and I’m certainly not going to be able to save myself, so I’m going to have to drink something eventually. Might as well rip it off like a bandaid and just get it over with.
… Alright, drinking…
………….
Wow, god. That was the worst thing I’ve ever drank. Tasted like lemons and motor oil going down, and left this awful rubbery aftertaste.
Research notes, page one: Potion tastes like shit.
I don’t really feel anything as I’m writing though.
Kind of hoping it’s a dud.
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Waited a few minutes; potion’s not a dud. I feel like i’m gonna puke Brb, bahtroom
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Back. Wasn’t able to puke; I guess the potion won’t let you.
I feel awful. And not just because I was right about ending up like the old guinea pig. I feel like I’ve drank an entire gallon of sparkling cider, and my stomach looks the part. My pants are horrendously tight around the waist.
… Alright, I undid the button finally, but this still feels really uncomfortable.
And wow, shit, it’s getting even bigger as I type.
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I asked the witch real fast, and she says that yes, I’m excused from writing if I get too big to reach or operate the laptop. I did move it to the bed so I could lie down, but that’s hardly relieved me at all. My belly’s bigger than a soccer ball now, and sloshes every time I make the slightest move. It’s really jarring, and it tickles like absolute hell. Though laying on my side seems to help a bit. On my back, it feels like I’m being sat on.
And I don’t even wanna TRY laying on my stomach.
I think I have enough pressure down there as it is.
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Okay, I’m still able to use the laptop, so I should probably keep writing…
Took a break for a few minutes as I continued to swell, and then suddenly my belly button popped out. It was just so quick and surprising. I mean it was just like… Swell, swell, swell-POP!! Startled me, and I jumped so hard the sloshing made me burst out sort of half-moaning half-laughing from how much it tickled. And that made the sloshing even worse.
I just kind of lay there, holding myself for a while.
…….
I really hope my belly button goes back to normal when this wears off, or I take an antidote or whatever.
I liked my belly button…
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Playing with my belly button.
It’s like a fucking bubble-wrap bubble.
Except I’d rather not pop it.
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Okay, breathing a sigh of relief here.
I think it finally stopped.
I mean, my belly’s about the size of a small exercise ball, so heavy I’m not sure if I can walk anymore (haven’t tried yet), and I can no longer reach my naval, but at least I’m not getting any bigger. If you can put any stock in what I’ve overheard from the customers, it can get a hell of a lot worse than this.
…………………….
… Wow, I must look like some spectacle…
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The witch came in to see me a few minutes ago. She poked and prodded me, and gave me an overly-creepy belly rub.
Can men be raped? Because I’m really scared she’s going to try it.
Admittedly though, it did feel at least sort of nice, and relieved at least some of the horrible tightness, but still…
Then she asked me to stand and walk across the room. I couldn’t do it though; all this fizzy liquid is too heavy. I managed to struggle upright onto my butt, and that’s about it. Through all my grunting and straining, I couldn’t lift myself from the bed. And even when the witch helped me up, I couldn’t stay standing for more than thirty-seconds at best before my legs would give out under me. She didn’t even help me back onto the bed, and just mumbled something about making a different version with less liquid as she left.
So I’m kind of stuck on the floor……
……………………..
…………………………. I hope this wears off soon…..
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So yeah, it’s been like three hours, and I haven’t lost an inch…
I have tried literally everything I’m capable of doing short of stabbing myself; trying to puke it up, trying to pee it out, trying to squeeze myself back in, rolling myself around looking for stuff that might help, etcetera…
I think the witch is serving the customers or something, because she won’t respond to my yelling at all.
My first ‘test’ and I’m already sick to death of this place.
I want to leave so badly…
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So last night the witch finally came back after leaving me there for hours and apologized for, well… leaving me for hours. She said she thought that one was supposed to wear off, and gave me an antidote before helping me to bed.
I fell asleep almost as soon as the swelling started to reside, and awoke the next morning back to normal.
God, it was like waking up from a bad dream and remembering your reality is so much less bleak.
Except I quickly remembered that even though I’d woken up, I’d have to sleep again tonight, because the witch was still there.
And my bellybutton didn’t return to normal. My abs returned, but my naval was still all popped up into an outie. I keep trying to push it back in, but it won’t stay. I told the witch, and she says it’s concerning, but shouldn’t hinder my tests.
-Insert sarcastic cheer.-
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So after I brushed my teeth and stuff, she told me I’d be working the store today and had me put on an apron.
It’s kind of a little place. Well, it’s attached to a small house where she keeps her ‘employees’, but the main store is just this little entrance room. And another little room on the side where she sits down with her friends for tea.
The entry’s got a counter, and a bunch of shelves full of various potions, and that’s pretty much it. I can’t tell exactly what they are—they’re all labeled in some strange language I can’t read—but I think I have a general idea of what’s available…
So the witch provided me with cleaning equipment, (mop, broom, etc…) and had me sweep the floor and dust off the shelves and such.
I think it was kind of a slow day, though I haven’t been here long enough to know what a fast day is. Only a few customers showed up; another witch lady with a dead opossum on her hat, some idiot asking for freebees, and a teenage boy in a hoodie who looked embarrassed to be there.
The witch didn’t pay me much mind for most of the day; she kind of stayed in the house’s family room most of the time, mixing new potions. Some of them exploded, but I think she’s got a protection spell on the walls and everything.
Then at about sunset she had me flip the little window sign to 'closed’ and lock the front door. She told me to wash up and join her for dinner. I did, and we had kind of an awkward chat over a meal of leftover coleslaw and potato wedges. She’s vegetarian, so she makes me be vegetarian too. I’m still really not used to being here, and being held against my will doesn’t really help.
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I don’t know why, and I really regret it actually, but I brought up Thanksgiving for some reason. I dunno, I think it slipped and I just asked what she was planning to do for it. Apparently they don’t celebrate Thanksgiving here, because she didn’t seem to care much until I mentioned the main event was a feast.
Then her face brightened to a gleeful glow, and she ran out of the room for a moment. When she came back she had a vile of this orangish liquid, and she commanded me to drink it. Reluctantly, I did, and it tasted even worse than the lemon one from yesterday. It was like pumpkins, sour milk and toothpaste. After a few minutes I felt my skin absolutely crawl, and I started to swell up all over. I think it was supposed to be fat, because I didn’t feel bloated and everything jiggled when I moved, but my skin was stretched so tight and it was so poorly distributed that I kind of ended up looking like a human parade balloon. I was still able to stand and walk alright (albeit with a bit of a different pace) though, because she didn’t have me drink that much.
Though it was still enough to rip my jeans… *blush*
Then she frowned at me and started pinching at my belly and butt. It was embarrassing as hell, but I sat through it… And then she stepped back and thought for a moment. She said the weight wasn’t supposed to set this way, and told me she’d have to work on it.
So she helped me up—whilst fondling my ass a little too much—and told me to go to my room, get in my nightclothes, and write about this potion.
… So obviously I didn’t. *shot*
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Getting out of my jeans and t-shirt and into my pajama pants was extremely difficult.
It was like trying to stuff a small suitcase with weeks of clothes. I had to tear off the jeans and discard them, and the t-shirt was mainly hard to remove because it’s hard to keep my arms up for long, but the pajamas just wouldn’t cooperate at all. The waist of the pants kept getting stuck around my swollen thighs, and no matter how hard I tugged or what position I squirmed into they just wouldn’t come on. The shirt seemed to go on okay over my fattened arms, but it would only button up over my chest. The first one over my paunch just barely reached, but snapped off as soon as I stopped holding my breath. Then the second was just way too far from the hole, and everything below that was just like a Grand Canyon apart.
… So, yes, I sat down to write in a partially buttoned nightshirt and stretchy boxers.
Why does the witch buy me such uncomfortable clothes? Seriously? Tight jeans and small t-shirts? She knows what her potions do! Why not extra-large shirts and maternity sweatpants?
I don’t understand her logic at all.
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So of course, I sat down to write and opened the laptop. I logged in, and that’s when I saw I had like a bunch of followers suddenly.
And… I guess you guys are reading this now?
I’m not really sure how to feel about you…
If you’re following me to hear about me taking all these crazy potions… I don’t really know what I think about that…
If you’re planning to rescue me, then by all means, please; I could really use the help. Or even if you just want to talk; I could really use some sane company too.
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Aaaaaaaaaaand, thus I’m caught up. Well, I’m off to bed then. Goodnight.
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It’s midnight, and I can’t sleep, really, so I’m writing again…
Layed in bed for a while; and I just can’t get comfortable. It feels like I’m wearing a suit of sandbags that I can’t take off. The witch keeps telling me this one definitely wears of, but I’m not so sure…
Seems like no matter which position I lay in, it either feels like I’m being crushed, or weirdly propped up.
This is really uncomfortable…
Second day and I hate this place more than ever…
And god, I can’t even think about tomorrow…