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MidReal Story
Whispers of the Cream Bun Factory
Scenario:A girl named Jane who was going to a cream bun factory
Create my version of this story
Sarah Lee
artistic friend of Jane and Mark, friends with Jane and Mark, long black hair, creative and brave
Mark Thompson
techsavvy friend of Jane, friends with Jane and Sarah, tall with glasses, analytical and loyal
Jane Carter
curious girl, friends with Mark and Sarah, short brown hair, green eyes, adventurous and kind
Cream bun.
Cream bun.
Cream bun.
The sweet aroma wafted through the air, teasing me as I walked through the quiet streets of the town.
Cream bun.
Cream bun.
Cream bun.
I followed the scent to a large red building on the other side of town.
I'd never been to this side of town before.
In fact, I'd heard whispers about this part of town being 'cursed.'
A silly superstition, no doubt.
But still...
I pushed open the door and stepped inside.
A long corridor with five doors leading off it.
No sign of a cream bun factory.
No sign of anything, for that matter.
I walked down the corridor, peeking inside each room.
The first was empty.
So was the second.
Inside the third, I found a single chair and table.
On the table, a piece of paper read, 'Wait.'
I scowled and moved on.
The fourth room was empty as well, but in the fifth, I found a large mixing bowl filled with creamy dough.
A sign on the wall read, 'Mix 500 times.'
Five hundred?
That seemed excessive.
But who was I to argue?
I hesitated before picking up the wooden spoon beside the mixing bowl.
The cool wood felt foreign in my hand, a stark contrast to the warmth of the dough that seemed to radiate an otherworldly energy.
With each stir, the dough thickened, releasing a richer scent that filled the room.
The aroma was intoxicating, making my mouth water in anticipation of the sweet treats to come.
My arms ached by the time I reached 500, but curiosity pushed me forward.
I glanced around, noticing a small door at the back of the room slightly ajar.
The door seemed out of place, almost hidden from view, and I wondered why it was left open.
Peeking inside, I saw an intricate machine with gleaming metal parts and tubes leading to a row of unfilled buns.
The machine hummed softly, its mechanism mesmerizing as it seemed to pulse with a life of its own.
I stepped closer, examining how it worked, when suddenly, it whirred to life, startling me into action.
The machine's hum grew louder, and I felt a strange vibration beneath my feet as the tubes began to quiver and shake.
I took a step back, my heart racing as the machine's metal parts started to move in a blur of motion.
The unfilled buns on the conveyor belt began to move, sliding towards the machine's maw like offerings to some ancient deity.
I watched the machine with fascination, its gears whirring and pistons pumping with rhythmic precision.
The conveyor belt moved steadily, each bun receiving its perfect dollop of cream.
My curiosity piqued, I leaned closer to observe the intricate mechanisms at work.
Suddenly, my foot slipped on a stray dollop of cream, sending me tumbling forward.
I landed awkwardly on the conveyor belt, my heart racing as the machine's arms adjusted to my presence.
Before I could react, a tube descended towards me, its tip pressing against my lips.
The machine whirred louder, and cream began to flow relentlessly.
I tried to push the tube away, but it was too strong, too insistent.
The cream poured into my mouth, sweet and cold, making my tongue tingle.
I gagged, trying to spit it out, but the machine seemed to sense my resistance.
It adjusted its grip, holding me firm as the cream continued to flow.
I felt like I was drowning in the sweet, sticky liquid.
My vision began to blur, and I panicked, thrashing about wildly.
The machine responded by tightening its hold, the metal arms wrapping around me like a vice.
I was trapped, helpless as the cream continued to pour into my mouth.
Suddenly, the machine lurched to a stop, the cream ceasing its flow.
The silence was deafening, and I lay there, gasping for air.
But before I could even process what had just happened, the machine roared back to life.
As I struggled to regain my breath, the machine's grip tightened around me, locking me into place.
My heart raced as I realized there was no escape.
The tube descended once more, and cream began to flow relentlessly into my mouth.
I tried to scream, but the thick sweetness muffled any sound.
Desperately, I reached for anything within grasp, my fingers brushing against the conveyor's edge.
With a surge of adrenaline, I managed to pull myself partially free, but the machine's relentless hold dragged me back.
The room echoed with the rhythmic hum of machinery as I fought on.
Sweat dripped down my forehead, mixing with the cream that still lingered on my lips.
I tasted the sweetness, a bitter reminder of my predicament.
The machine's metal arms seemed to flex and adjust, adapting to my every move.
I kicked out with my legs, but they were pinned down by the conveyor belt's unforgiving surface.
My vision began to blur, the cream-filled tubes and whirring gears blending into a maddening whirlwind.
Suddenly, the machine lurched forward, and I felt myself being pulled towards its maw.
The unfilled buns on the conveyor belt seemed to rush past me in a blur of white and brown.
I was trapped in a never-ending nightmare, with no escape from the cream-filled abyss.
The machine's hum grew louder still, a deafening roar that threatened to consume me whole.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, everything stopped.
I lay immobilized on the conveyor belt, the machine's relentless grip holding me fast.
The cream continued to flow, filling my mouth and forcing me to swallow.
I felt my stomach begin to swell uncomfortably with each gulp.
My eyes darted around the room, searching for any means of escape.
The pressure in my belly increased, becoming almost unbearable.
I strained against the machine's hold, trying to twist free.
Suddenly, I spotted a small lever within reach on the side of the machine.
With all my strength, I stretched out and managed to pull it down.
The machine's hum faltered, and the cream's flow slowed to a trickle.
I took advantage of the brief reprieve, using every ounce of energy to writhe free from the metal arms.
My body protested, screaming in agony as I twisted and contorted to break loose.
The machine's grip loosened, and I tumbled off the conveyor belt, landing hard on the cold floor.
I scrambled to my feet, my eyes fixed on the door I had seen earlier, now a beacon of hope in this nightmarish scenario.
I sprinted towards it, my heart pounding in my chest like a jackhammer.
The machine roared back to life behind me, its gears whirring and pistons pumping with renewed ferocity.
I didn't dare look back, fearing what I might see.
Instead, I burst through the door, slamming it shut behind me just as the machine's metal arms crashed against it.
I leaned against the door, panting, my ears ringing from the cacophony of machinery and screams still echoing in my mind.
I knew I had to keep running.
I leaned against the door, catching my breath. The machine's roar echoed behind me, but I knew I couldn't linger.
I stumbled down the corridor, my steps unsteady from the ordeal. The cold floor seemed to stretch on forever, a blur of grey concrete beneath my feet.
As I reached the factory's main hall, I noticed a faint glow emanating from a hidden passageway. Curiosity piqued, I cautiously approached, pushing aside a curtain to reveal another room filled with intricate machinery.
The air was thick with the scent of sweet cream and oil, a heady mix that made my stomach churn. I swallowed hard, trying to push aside the memory of the machine's relentless grip.
Suddenly, metallic arms shot out, grabbing me and pulling me towards a massive funnel. Before I could react, cream gushed into my mouth again, my belly swelling rapidly as panic set in.
I tried to struggle, but the arms held me fast, their grip like a vice. The cream poured in, cold and sweet, making my tongue tingle.
I gagged, trying to spit it out, but it was too much, too fast. My vision began to blur, and I felt myself being pulled closer to the funnel's dark maw.
The machine's hum grew louder still, a deafening roar that threatened to consume me whole. I was trapped once more, helpless against the factory's relentless machinery.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, everything stopped. The cream ceased its flow, and the metallic arms released their grip.
I stumbled back, gasping for air, my heart racing like a wild animal. But before I could even process what had just happened, the machine lurched forward once more...
I lay on the conveyor belt, immobilized by the relentless flow of cream. My belly swelled painfully, pressing against the cold metal beneath me.
The machine's grip tightened as it continued to pump cream into me, each surge making it harder to breathe.
I tried to lift my arms, but they felt heavy and unresponsive.
The room spun around me, the machinery's hum a constant reminder of my predicament.
Desperation clawed at me as I struggled to think of a way out.
Suddenly, I noticed a small panel within reach.
With great effort, I reached out and pressed it.
The machine's hum faltered, and the cream's flow slowed to a trickle.
I took advantage of the brief reprieve, using every ounce of energy to writhe free from the metal arms.
My body protested, screaming in agony as I twisted and contorted to break loose.
The machine's grip loosened, and I tumbled off the conveyor belt, landing hard on the cold floor.
I scrambled to my feet, my eyes fixed on the door ahead, now a beacon of hope in this nightmarish scenario.
But before I could take a step forward, the machine roared back to life behind me, its gears whirring and pistons pumping with renewed ferocity.
I didn't dare look back, fearing what I might see.
Instead, I sprinted towards the door, my heart pounding in my chest like a jackhammer.
As I reached for the door handle, a loud clang echoed through the room, and the floor beneath me began to shake violently.
The machine's metal arms crashed against the door, mere inches from my face.
