Before Carly could break down crying or compose herself, the doorbell to her flat rang.
“What the? Who’s-someone’s at the door!” She said, with a hint of panic. If someone saw her like this....! Maybe it was the mailman or a neighbor she had startled-
The doorbell rang again. Panicked, Carly quickly begun to redress herself, so as to try to look decent. Her shirt slid tightly back on, it failing to stretch to cover her new gut, amd her arms feeling slightly compressed by the long sleeves. Worse, now she couldn’t get her jeans up to her hips, thanks to her fattened legs and rear and the pants legs were very much stretched out.
“I knew these were fake denim.....!” she muttered irately. She had payed $30 for these...! Then the door bell rang again, and she snapped back to reality. After a few more go’s and failing, she settled for using friction and tightness in her upper thighs and buttocks to keep the jeans in place, and she did the belt up to the last hole for insurance. Her jacket was tight around the back, but her shoes still fit. She put her glasses on her head and made her way to the door as quickly as possible, opening it as to see who was ringing the door bell so persistently.
She wish she hadn’t. As she let go of the door handle, beet red in the face, the door fully swung open to reveal...
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