Three Boxes, The

Once upon a time their lived a happy couple. Sure, they were shallow and stupid, but they lived very happily and loyally together. Sarah was a tall blonde with green eyes, and Jim adored her. She was short but well shaped, having a large bust and rear end but a small waist. Jim was rather tall and skinny with sandy hair, and well toned like a distance runner. They didn't talk much about what they did in bed with their friends, but the outside world wondered what kind of love such beautiful people must make...

One fateful day the couple happened upon a flee market in the old section of town. They were not the kind of people to normally travel to the old section of town, but Jim saw an add in the paper and thought, "Gee, maybe we can make some money off Sparky after all." (horribly pointless plot-moving pun intended ). So the couple walked to the old section of town with Sparky in tow. After realizing (albeit slowly) that no one wanted to purchase their dog's fleas, they decided to take a look around anyhow.

"What junk," said Sarah.

"You're right. Everything is old and ugly," said Jim. The objects that both viewed were sometimes junk, but sometimes had a great story behind them or performed useful functions. Unfortunately, both could not tell the difference because they were only interested in appearance. This went on for about two hours. Finally, they grew disgusted of the run-down appearance of their surroundings.

"Let's leave," said Jim.

"Yes. Nothing here is any good," said Sarah.

Suddenly, a hideously skinny stooped old woman stepped from the shadows.

"Ewww... Its Ally McBeal," said Sarah.

"No, I'm not Ally McBeal..." started the woman. "I run a stand here. I've noticed that you two seem to have very exquisite tastes."

"Of course we do," sniffed Jim. "Only the best things in life for us."

"Well... I have a different kind of stand. Nothing here costs any money at all. I give you the choice of three hollow boxes. One is gold, one is silver, and one is lead. Inside of each is a free gift, but I will not disclose their identities to the interested parties until a later time."

"Uh..." said Sarah, a bit confused.

"Hmm..." puzzled Jim.

The old woman put her hands over her face for a few seconds. "Look. You don't know what's inside the boxes and I aint gonna tell you til you pick one, alright?"

"Oh..." said Jim.

"I see..." said Sarah. "What's this about... boxes?"

After several attempts at explaining the concept of the game to the slow couple, involving a final attempt with handpuppets and a song about the letter "A", the disgusted old woman thought she got her point across.

"Gee," said Sarah, clapping, "I never knew that the letter "A" started so many words..."

"Yes," said Jim. "But was it just me, or did Elmo have a bit of an attitude? Some of those words that started with the letter "A" didn't sound so nice."

"Enough!" exclaimed the tired old woman. "Now you may choose a bo-"

"The gold one!" they said in unison.

"Are you sure? You don't know what's inside each box..."

"The gold one!" they both said again.

"OK. You asked for it," said the old woman. She opened the box and revealed-

nothing.

"Ha! So you get nothing. Do you understand the moral of the story?"

"M-mor-al?" said Sarah.

[another handpuppet show with a song about the letter "B"]

"Ah," said Sarah, gleefully clapping again. Then she stopped and said, "But that one word wasn't called for at all. Grover needs to take it easy."

"So now do you understand?" asked the exasperated old woman.

"Not really. We picked the best box." said Jim. "Why didn't we win something? Are all of the boxes empty? I want my money back."

"YOU DIDN'T PAY ANYTHING!" yelled the old woman. "Here, let me show you what's in the other boxes." The old woman opened the silver box. Inside were two tickets to a tropical island. Then she opened the lead box. Inside it was full of beautiful diamonds worth one million dollars. "Now do you get it? Outward appearances aren't everything. Sometimes something really good can come from something that does not look very good. Got it?" Both nodded. "So which box is the best box?"

"The lead box!" they said.

The old woman revelled for a second in her victory, but on a hunch closed the boxes in plain sight of the couple. So which box is the best box?"

The couple looked for a few seconds at each of the boxes and quickly exclaimed "The gold box!" Even Sparky (no I haven't forgotten the dog) nudged the lead box.

"Holy @*&$#^!" exclaimed the old woman.

"Hey, its a song about the letter "S"!" laughed Sarah, clapping.

"Haven't you two learned anything?" asked the old woman.

"Learned something? I can't remember why we came here. Do we have a dog, honey?" said Jim looking at Sparky.

"I think so," said Sarah. "Let's take him home and go to sleep or something." And with that they left. The old woman fumed behind them.

"I'll teach you yet!" she yelled after them.

"Who's that, dear?" said Sarah.

"I don't remember. I think she on FOX last night."

"AGH! I'm not Ally McBeal!" yelled the old woman again.

Soon the couple reached home with good ole Sparky in tow. Jim looked at the newspaper that he had left on the table. "Hey honey, look at this! We can finally make some money off of Sparky! Their's a flea market in the old section of town..."

"You go honey," said Sarah, stripping down from jeans and tank top to purple nightgown that went about a foot below her waist and had long sleeves and then donned white panties with hearts on them. "I'm too tired from when we went to... something."

"Alright then. I'll be back in awhile" and with that he left with a very frustrated dog in tow.

After Jim left Sarah sat down on the couch and pushed the biggest, shiniest button on the remote to turn the television on. As luck would have it, the TV was already set on FOX and it was late at night. "Gee, that Ally McBeal made it all the way from the flea market to the TV station," she thought. Suddenly, their was a knock on the front door. Sarah pushed the shiny button to turn the TV off again. She walked to the front door and opened it. Outside was-

duh-duh-duh-duh...

nothing.

"That's strange. Whenever the door makes a noise someone is usually there when I open it. Oh well," Sarah said. She closed the door and went back inside to the couch... Only... On the couch was the old woman. "How did you make it all the way back from the TV station so fast?" asked Sarah.

The old woman opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. "Whatever. I have decided that I'm going to prove my point to you people whether you want to learn it or not. I'm going to make your man realize that appearances aren't everything in this world." With that, she pointed at Sarah and her finger glowed orange.

"Ooo... pretty colors," said Sarah. Her taught stomach bulged outward in her night gown and started to look pregnant. The old woman stopped and Sarah looked at herself in dismay. "My nightgown shrank... Must have used the wrong detergent again."

"No, you idiot. I made you fill up with air so your figure wasn't quite so perfect anymore." She pointed her finger again, and Sarah's stomach grew out until it was about two feet in front of her body and one foot out on each side. Her already large breasts rested atop it, bulging slightly out of the neckline. Her nightgown was made of tough but thin material and held her expanding gut.

Sarah just looked on stupidly as events unfolded. "That's wierd. Maybe I ate something bad for supper."

"Agh. Thats it. I'm done trying to be subtle. I'm going to pull all of the stops on you..." With that, she pointed both of her fingers at Sarah's body. Her stomach leapt outward another foot in each direction, gradually expanding to encompass her back. The nightgown reached its maximum girth but held under the pressure. Her stomach as a result began to grow downward and soon stuck out from the bottom of the nightgown with a severely stretched pair of panties being pushed down under its force. Her rear jumped once like a hose filling with pressure and then blew up like two balloons finding their elasticity to the size of half volleyballs. Soon her breast were pushed out the top of the nightgown's neckline. Since the rest of her body had reached the edge's of the nightgown's strechiness, the only place left for her to grow was her exposed breasts. They grew to be the size of softballs, then basketballs, then soon were beachball sized, making squeaky balloon noises as they rubbed.

"Ooo... balloons," Sarah chirped, playing with her breasts. The stitches in the nightgown soon began to give way. When the entire affair burst off, Sarah was free to expand to her body's limit. Her stomache resumed growing, pushing her panties and the enclosed contents (not to be mentioned by name) down to her knees and pushing her puffy shoulders up into her now puffy cheeks. Her calves and forarms puffed up like tube balloons before being absorbed by her girth. Her streched panties gave up the ghost and exploded from her frame and she stretched out with a squeak until she was nothing but a gigantic ball with puffy hands and feet, a puffy face, and two gigantic half orbs that were her breasts. "Whon Jhim be haffy when he ghet home," she said with effort through her puffy lips.

"What was that?" said the old woman. Before Sarah could reiterate, Jim opened the door.

"Well, honey, I brought a dog home. I think he's ours." Then he turned into the living room and looked at Sarah. Then he looked at the old woman. "You did this?" he asked.

"Wow. I'm surprised you got that one. So I blew up your woman. Do you still like her?" the woman asked.

"Of course I do!" he exclaimed.

"Yes!" yelled the old woman. "You finally realize that looks aren't everything!"

"Actually, I'm an inflation fetishist. Before we had to use balloons. This is much better. Thank you Miss McBeal! You're a lifesaver."

"B-but there's a moral to this story! You can't just blow away the moral..." exclaimed the old woman.

"You're right," said Jim. "There is a moral."

"Finally," said the old woman.

"Inflated women are hot!" yelled Jim.

"Mmhmm..." muttered Sarah dreamily.

"No! Wait. We need a vote. I say appearances aren't everything, you say inflated women are hot. Just a sec..." and she ran outside. When she came back, she had a hobo in tow. "Alright, I payed a homeless man $20 dollars to say that appearances aren't everything. That makes two against two... We need a tiebreaker."

"What abhout the nharrador?" murmered Sarah through her puffy lips. After a brief conference with the narrator, it was decided that the moral indeed was that inflated women were hot.

"What the hell?" said the old woman. "You people are sickos!"

We sure are