None of My Shirts Are Going to Fit Anymore

She holds her phone up with that same soft smile, trying to play it off like nothing’s wrong, but her eyes keep drifting downward. The fabric of her shirt is already pulled tight, buttons straining as if something beneath them is steadily pushing outward. “I think it’s happening again…” she admits, letting out a quiet, nervous laugh. Her hand brushes over the stretched material, feeling the pressure build, the weight settling in heavier than before. It’s not sudden—it’s steady, unavoidable, like the more she thinks about you, the more her body responds.

She tilts her head down, watching it escalate in real time, her posture shifting as the growing weight pulls her forward slightly. The shirt doesn’t stand a chance anymore, forced open and pushed aside as the pressure overtakes it completely. Her breath catches, somewhere between disbelief and acceptance. “Yeah… none of my tops are gonna fit anymore…” she murmurs, half laughing, half overwhelmed. There’s no stopping it now—and the way she lingers there, still holding the camera for you, makes it clear she knows exactly what’s causing it.