The conveyor belt deposited you into a box simply marked as Gas Station Assortments. That was not a good thing you thought as you collided with the large pile of tinies sharing your predicament. The final shrinks were added to your box before it was sealed, and presumably loaded on a truck as you thought of what being a shrink at a gas station could ensue. Most of the time the tinies put up for sale at gas stations were with the snacks, and a popular cheap treat for those who didn't feel like chips or cookies.
The ride was one of great anticipation, and this was shared between all of the tinies who observed the labeling on their own packaging. You could hear discussions between various people over what their fate was to be, hoping to be dropped and left to fend for their selves in a foreign world. It was never good news when that was the BEST possible situation. You had heard stories of the rogue tinies roaming the wild. They lived a harsh life, constantly afraid of some careless jogger's massive foot, or some schoolgirl on her daily route thinking it was funny to see how far a tiny could survive up their ass.
The truck stopped and your box was taken out, before you were packaged individually by some woman wearing a Quick Service Gas Stop employee uniform. She soon got to you, sighing as she performed her minimum wage job, placing you and four other tiny people in a plastic bag before sealing the soft prison and placing you on a pile of already packaged people. The process went on much longer, making you think that a mechanical assembly would probably be a more financially liable way of doing things.
The process soon ended, and she carried an armsworth of bags, including yourself to the main store, before hanging you on shelves in the snack aisle, just as you had feared. Even worse, you were on the very front of the hanger, almost guaranteeing that you would be sold. Taking a deep breath of air, you examined your surroundings, before seeing that someone was approaching you. That potential customer was
The ride was one of great anticipation, and this was shared between all of the tinies who observed the labeling on their own packaging. You could hear discussions between various people over what their fate was to be, hoping to be dropped and left to fend for their selves in a foreign world. It was never good news when that was the BEST possible situation. You had heard stories of the rogue tinies roaming the wild. They lived a harsh life, constantly afraid of some careless jogger's massive foot, or some schoolgirl on her daily route thinking it was funny to see how far a tiny could survive up their ass.
The truck stopped and your box was taken out, before you were packaged individually by some woman wearing a Quick Service Gas Stop employee uniform. She soon got to you, sighing as she performed her minimum wage job, placing you and four other tiny people in a plastic bag before sealing the soft prison and placing you on a pile of already packaged people. The process went on much longer, making you think that a mechanical assembly would probably be a more financially liable way of doing things.
The process soon ended, and she carried an armsworth of bags, including yourself to the main store, before hanging you on shelves in the snack aisle, just as you had feared. Even worse, you were on the very front of the hanger, almost guaranteeing that you would be sold. Taking a deep breath of air, you examined your surroundings, before seeing that someone was approaching you. That potential customer was
181 views
·
June 3, 2023
Sign in to comment