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You unlock the stall door and step outside, and are about to leave the change room when an extremely tight pain around your waist stops you. Of course, the belt! Why'd you make it so tight? Sadly, you can't reach it with the overalls in the way, so you go back into the stall to take it off. You slide the suspenders off your massive shoulders, but the suit still stays in place, held tight around your gut and chest. You peel it off with difficulty, then reach beneath the huge bulge of your stomach and try to locate the belt of your pants. How'd you even manage to get this so tight in the first place? When your fat fingers finally reach the buckle, it takes several minutes until you can loosen it, releasing the pressure of your trapped waist, which explodes outward. After re-securing the belt at a more comfortable length, you re-adjust your clothes.

Your singlet has bunched up around your chest, as well as under your arms and up your back. The simple effort of loosening your belt has soaked it with sweat, and it sticks to your fat body. You grimace and peel it off, exposing your gut and chest. Your flabby stomach hangs well over your belt, now that it's free of the singlet. The huge ball of lard dominates your figure, jutting out a good distance from where your sides once were, so many years ago. The two sacks of fat that are your breasts have also slid sideways slightly, and sit heavily on your gut. Your eyes travel over the rest of your reflection, and you take in the details; your neck has long since been absorbed by your chins (all 6) and shoulders, and your head is slowly sinking into your body. If you were any fatter, it'd probably start disappearing beneath the blubber. Your limbs, once thin, are swollen sausages which are laden with excessive layers of lard, which cover the muscles beneath them. You turn to get a side view of the body you've grown to accept, and even love. Your ass isn't as obvious as your stomach, but it's still there, forming a definitive bulge around the back of your pants. Your gut hangs down to about knee-height; the huge thing juts about a metre from your spine.

You continue admiring yourself for several minutes, then decide to grab some of your normal clothes; you can't go out without a shirt. However, you find that they've mysteriously shrunk - there's no way you could ever stuff yourself into your strangely tiny shirt. You still try though, and find that the shirt has some elasticity; you manage to stretch it past your breasts, but it won't go any further, and your huge gut is left exposed. You shake your head and pull off the useless piece of fabric, and decide to stay with the singlet. It's still wet, but you guess that doesn't matter. You pull it on, but the form-hugging garmet seems to have shrunken slightly - it can't cover your gut properly, and it's uncomfortably tight. You just ignore your discomfort and pull the overalls back on, then leave the stall and head for the worksite.

Written by an anonymous author

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