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The Trial, Day 4: Pool Predicament
🕑 Added 2025-08-01 00:37:56 +0000 UTC
The next morning, Jane woke up with the determined focus of a woman on a mission: Operation Gym Pool. Her butt was... still huge. Maybe even bigger. She shuffled to the mirror and winced. It wobbled even when she wasn’t moving.
The leggings had survived the night, barely. They had stretch marks now—literal lines like the fabric had gone to war and barely returned. But they were still intact, which meant she could stick to the plan.
Step one: take pressure off her spine and hips by floating in the gym pool. Step two: buy actual clothes that could contain her new... assets. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to the shopping part—trying things on while hoping they didn’t explode at the seams—but desperate times called for desperate tailoring.
She waddled to the gym like a penguin in disguise, coat flaring around her mountainous behind. Jane smiled politely at the receptionist, who didn’t even blink. Maybe the girl thought Jane was wearing some kind of booty-enhancing gym gear. Or maybe she just didn’t get paid enough to care.
The locker room was mercifully empty. Jane paused in front of the mirror and peeled off her coat. Then, slowly, she bent over to tug off her leggings. Despite everything, they came off with less resistance than she expected. A small win.
Underneath, her swimsuit clung for dear life. It was a one-piece she hadn’t worn in a year, and definitely not designed for the body she had now. Her hips flared dramatically, her cheeks already pushing the elastic to its limits. But it was on, and more importantly—it stayed on.
Jane slipped into the pool like it was the womb of the Earth. Cool, weightless bliss. Her lower back sighed with relief. She floated, kicked, and drifted, her butt bobbing behind her like a buoy. No one batted an eye. One old man did slow laps at the far end; a teenage lifeguard looked more interested in his phone than the human flotation device now occupying lane three.
For the first time since the injection, Jane felt peace.
Her butt was massive, sure—but it looked good. It felt good. Hell, it moved good in the water.
She let herself relax. She even allowed a little smirk as she imagined walking into a clothing store later that day, her new shape turning heads. Maybe she'd finally be the girl the mannequins were jealous of.
After nearly an hour of floating, stretching, and pretending she was a mermaid with an impossibly thick tail, Jane climbed out of the pool and wrapped herself in her towel. Mission accomplished.
Now, onto phase two: shopping.
She towel-dried quickly, gave her hair a half-hearted fluff, and grabbed the leggings from her locker. They were tight—of course they were—but they slid back on with less resistance than expected. Maybe the water helped. Or maybe her butt had finally stopped growing.
She gave herself a once-over in the mirror and sighed. The leggings covered her. Technically. They didn’t hide much, but with the long coat, it would be fine. She could hit up the mall, grab a few things that actually fit, and be back home before anything—
SSSSHHHHRRRRIIIIIIIPPPPPP!
She froze.
The mirror confirmed it: a long, jagged tear had erupted straight down the seam of her leggings. Her cheeks were once again on full display, jiggling gently with each breath.
Jane stared. Her mouth slowly fell open.
"Holy... shit."
She turned sideways. Her butt stuck out so far it distorted her posture. It wasn’t just big—it was huge. Full, round, high, and firm enough to bounce a quarter off. She twisted and turned, trying to see all the angles. The damage to her leggings was catastrophic, but so was the size of her ass.
A small part of her brain screamed This is a disaster, but another part—an embarrassing part—felt giddy.
She bit her lip.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “I was supposed to go shopping after this.”
She looked down at the ruined fabric flapping uselessly against her thighs.
“Guess not.”
But even as she cursed her luck, Jane couldn’t stop staring. Her reflection didn’t look like her. It looked like an airbrushed Instagram post—edited to perfection, filtered, exaggerated.
Except this was real. She was real. And she looked… hot.
She felt the warmth rising in her cheeks, not from shame—but from how much she was enjoying it. Too much.
“God, what is wrong with me…” she whispered, hugging her coat around herself as her heart thumped.
It wasn’t just inconvenient anymore. It was addictive. That little voice in her head—the one that used to judge her for eating cake at midnight—was now wondering if the compound had more doses. What would twice this size look like?
Jane shook her head, snapping herself out of the spiral.
Right now, she had one problem: getting home with her ass fully hanging out the back of her pants. Her towel was still damp. No change of clothes. No options.
Except one.
She pulled out her phone and opened the ride-share app.
A car would be here in six minutes.
She sat down on the bench—carefully—keeping her coat tucked under her to hide the damage.
She wasn’t defeated. Just… rerouting.
“Okay,” she said aloud, giving herself a pep talk. “No stores today. No shopping spree. You go home, regroup, find something online, and next time—wear two pairs of pants.”
She adjusted the coat, checked her reflection one last time, and walked out the locker room door.
One step at a time. One jiggle at a time.
