A moan escaped from Dana as the pills slid down into her belly.
Within seconds, I became aware of the fact that she was aging. Her head started to inch up higher and higher. Her brand new jeans had ridden so high up that her calves were showing beneath the hems, and as I looked further down, the mary-janes that had previously seemed to be slightly too big for her were forming red lines on her sockless feet where the material was starting to bite into her flesh.
Her untucked flannel rose higher on her back, and before long I could see the pink flesh of her back between her shirt and her trousers. A sound like a hand being rubbed over stretched wet rubber caught my ear, and I looked down to see that her trousers had stopped riding up, the cuff being caught on the bulge of her calf and unable to go any higher. The denim over her calf was starting to become shiny, and soon burst open, exposing all of her lower leg. Another ripping sound made me look up to see that the sleeves had been torn off her shirt at the shoulders.
I was shocked, and there was only one thing I could say. "Damn, Dana. You keep this up, you ain't gonna be wearing a stitch!"
The sight was amazing. Her new pants had been reduced to tight cutoff shorts, and the flannel was a ragged vest hanging off her shoulders. The white tee shirt she wore was stretched skin tight across her torso, the bottom of it ragged and just barely below her brand new womanly figure.

She was totally absorbed in her age shifting ability. As the pre-schooler rose higher and higher in the room, her child-sized clothes began to struggle to keep up with her chronological expansion. Her khakis seemed to be doing the best job of keeping up with her, but even they were slowly sliding higher and higher up her thigh, the ends becoming more and more ragged as their seams began splitting under the pressure of her maturing thighs.
Her shirt had more difficulty in keeping up, however. The sleeves of her flannel ripped around her shoulders, but the remaining tubes of cloth refused to slide off her arm as they were squeezed tightly in place. The seams of the sleeves, which now covered only her upper arm, leaving both elbow and shoulder bare, began to split at the highest point. The rip ran outwards to the edges of the fabric, accelerating as it went. Once it was all the way across the ragged remnants of the sleeves fell to the floor. As her body expanded wider, the remnants of the flannel were pulled more and more to her back.
As the cloth was pulled tightly against her arms in the ragged holes that indicated where the sleeves had once been attached, threads began giving way, snapping and tearing, as the openings were ripped longer and longer, until the front of the shirt was pulled even with the front of her shoulders. As the last of the fabric was torn through, it fell to the floor to meet with it's previous components.
The only part of her clothing that seemed to be succeeding in keeping up with her growth was the white cotton tee shirt, which was more elastic and thus had an easier time accommodating her expanding girth, although it, too, was now stretched to the point of translucency, and the sleeves had torn off in much the same way as those of her flannel.
The tee shirt was hugging her like a second skin, jutting out from her chest, then pulled tightly again her stomach underneath her budding bosom.

Her head began to rise upwards, and her white blouse was pulled out from the skirt where it had been tucked in. She had to be aging even faster than her classmates. Her head suddenly dropped down for a second as a crunching noise announced that the narrow heels of her dress shoes had given up trying to support her increasing weight.
Her skirt was starting to slide up her legs, and soon a small rip appeared on the bottom of the skirt at the side of either leg as they became wider than the area the fabric was designed to encircle. A button hit me on the head and I saw that her blouse was becoming stretched to the limit. Where it had once hung loosely in front of her, it was pulled so tightly that large diamond shaped openings were formed as it tried to pull itself apart to her side, the buttons straining to keep it closed.
Another twang signified another button flying off, although the blouse was stretched so tightly that I couldn't even guess which area had generated enough strain to separate the button from its parent fabric.
I saw the pink flesh of her legs as it began showing through the network of rips and tears that had begun to form in her nylons. The nylons were torn completely off at her ankles, leaving her feet bare, as she had obviously already outgrown her shoes.
My gaze began slowly rising once again along her aging body, stopping at the bottom of her skirt for a second to watch it continue it's slow journey upward as the tears in the side widened. My eyes continued up to look at her exposed abdomen. Then, sounding like a short blast from a machine gun, several buttons popped off her blouse all at once, as her figure budded. No buttons remained on her blouse now, and it flew open.
Barely restrained by the tearing undershirt, her chest matured, bobbing up and down, slowly stopping their oscillations as they came to rest.

8... 9... 10... Her growth continued and I watched as her chest began piling up in front of her as it struggled to get free from the restraint of the useless training bra. They were spilling outward, over the top and to the side, pressed together so tightly that you wouldn't even be able to slide a credit card into the newly developing cleavage. They heaved with every breath she took. She waited until the bra finally gave up the fight and sprang across the room as if fired from a slingshot.

Her sandals were the first thing to go, their leather straps no match for the unrelenting force exerted by Dana's daintily lengthening feet. She moaned at the sound of the leather snapping. Her hands now pushed against her suddenly widening hips. Her clothes showed signs of wear early on.
As her body continued its leisurely stretch toward adulthood her trousers decided to show their agreement with the sandals that she was getting too old by losing their structural integrity. The back of each pantleg split as her lower legs pressed back with more force than the trousers could squeeze inwards.
As the fabric burst open and her flesh began pouring out through the opening, the tear moved upward, until it reached her knee, which somehow still had a little bit of slack left in it.
However, her thigh just above her knee was still encircled with fabric that was reaching the breaking point. The pant leg tore all at once in a great circle around each thigh. The ragged bands of material that had been freed by this new tear clung tightly around her knees until they snapped and fell to the floor. The ragged ends of her trousers legs continued fraying and sliding their ways up her thighs.