I didn’t mean to enter the soda plant, it just sort of happened. A mixture of absent-minded wandering and subsequent curiosity led me to the bottling plant on the outskirts of town. A state-of-the-art structure, the plant was designed to operate with no human components, following a series of… incidents.

Out of curiosity, I followed a row of bottles on a conveyor belt, jogging to keep up. Unfortunately the plant wasn’t intended for people and as such was exempt from pesky safety requirements such as railings. With a crash, I landed on the conveyor, knocking bottles everywhere.
I didn’t get a chance to escape as an enormous rubber pipe descended from the ceiling, filling the bottles ahead with jets of bubbling soda. And before I could do anything, it was my turn.

Pressurised soda forced its way down my throat, the pipe sized juuust small enough to fit in my mouth, but not enough to easily dislodge it. Several litres of fizzing liquid forced their way into my body, swelling it until one could easily mistake me for pregnant. Thankfully, the system had been calculated to deliver the exact amount of soda needed, down to the last drop. I was stuck to a pipe and uncomfortably taut in my midsection, but I was otherwise okay.

Or so I thought. The computers operating the plant had detected a blockage in the pipe and were working to fix it. The pipe lurched upwards, leaving me dangling as it ran on overhead rails to another room, as a new pipe replaced it’s spot, continuing as if nothing happened.

The room was large, like an aircraft hanger. Grates were placed at regular intervals, and the walls were covered in pipes. I hung there for a moment, dangling, before soda began shooting down my throat, sloshing all over my face and body in the process.

You see, the computer had decided the best way to clear the blockage was to force high-pressure soda down the pipe until it came loose. Unfortunately I seemed to be stuck fast, my body stretching like a water balloon and giving me an exaggerated pear shape. Even worse, the sugary soda rapidly became sticky if spilt, and seemed to have gummed up my entire body. The only place soda could enter or leave was my mouth, now at the end of a stretchy giraffe-esque neck.

My belly and tail touched the floor first, followed by my legs and feet. Even my toes began to swell, each one as big as my body was just a few minutes ago. Even my chest got in on the action, swelling into a bulging pair of boobs that would be impressive if I wasn’t a guy. The only area not swollen was my head, but I couldn’t do anything with the pipe jamming my mouth open.

That was almost 10 minutes ago, and I’ve continued to swell across the room since. But, I think I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. If I can hold together for a bit longer, the cost of soda will become more than just replacing the pipe, meaning it’ll stop pumping. What I’ll do then I don’t know, being the size of a decent-sized suburban house and unable to speak, but at least I won’t be in danger of bursting.

The issue is that soda is cheap, given its being mass-produced here. So I’ll have to drink a LOT of it…