It is finally my first day back at the office since lockdown, and I have made very sure I do not walk in looking forgettable. I am squeezed into that tiny red miniskirt I went hunting for, paired with a fitted red-and-bl*ck top that pushes everything up and keeps my whole look feeling extra dramatic, with fishnets peeking out underneath and heels that make every step sound sharper on the floor. When the scene starts, you only see me from behind again, bent over the shelving unit with a clipboard and paperwork tucked in one arm while I rummage through the cabinets looking for something. My skirt is doing the bare minimum, my fishnets are just visible underneath, and my backside is taking up most of your view while it shifts, sways, and fills the frame with every l*ttle movement.

I stay c*mpletely focused on what I am doing until I finally glance back over my shoulder and realize you have been standing there watching me. The shock of it sends the paperwork tumbling straight to the floor, and I drop down after it in a fluster, apologizing the whole way. Of course, getting down on all fours only makes the situation more embarrassing, because now the very first thing my boss has seen on my first day back is me on the floor with my big fat *ss sticking right out at him while I scramble to gather everything back up. I keep apologizing, and the more I apologize, the more obvious it becomes that I am fully rattled. By the time I finally manage to stand again, I am trying to fix my outfit, hide behind my clipboard, calm myself down, and stop myself from sounding like a babbling mess all at once.

Once I get enough air back into my lungs to speak normally, I start gushing about how nice it is to see you again and how happy I am to be back at work, only to keep going because I cannot seem to stop myself. I offer to get you coffee, help with anything, do absolutely anything at all, and then you slow me down with a compliment. That only makes me shyer. I hide behind the clipboard again, smile like an idiot, and try to act normal while you ask how lockdown treated me. I thank you for keeping me on, for letting me work remotely when I could, and then I remember the donuts. The second I bring them up, everything changes, because the donuts are the reason I am standing here looking like this in the first place. I start talking about how delicious they were, how grateful I was, how I could barely even think about them without getting distracted, and before I can stop myself, I finally blurt out the truth. I got really fat. The confession comes out in one rush, and the second it does, I stop holding my stomach in, let it all the way out, and rub the bloated l*ttle gut that immediately settles forward with a sigh of relief.

After that, there is really no point pretending. I start explaining how I tried to eat right, how I meant to work out, how I even looked up routines and tutorials, but none of it stood a chance once I got started on those pastries. Most days I was eating them as a meal, sometimes before breakfast, and if I was not doing that, I was stuffing my face with something else. The more I admit, the more playful I get about it, smiling and laughing while I rub my stomach and show you the l*ttle poochie bulge that came from all that overindulgence. I turn to one side and then the other so you can see it properly from both angles, then keep rotating until I can point out where else all that softness went. It all went here, and it all went to my big old butt too. By then I am openly modeling both the belly and the backside for you, emboldened by how encouraging you seem, joking that I have turned into a blimpy l*ttle greedy pig over lockdown and that you can pretty much see the evidence written all over me.

That flirty confidence only builds from there. I step in closer and present my stomach to you, telling you to look at this belly I have on me now and blaming it on all those donuts you kept sending. Then I turn and bend over again so you can get a proper look at the other half of the d*mage, pointing out the size of my backside and teasing that if you really wanted to test it out for yourself, I would not exactly object. I even reached back to demonstrate exactly what I mean by deliberately smacking each butt cheek with each hand before jiggling my hips at you. I laugh about how huge it has gotten, how I am honestly scared to sit in my regular office chair because I might get stuck in the dang thing, and how on my very first day back you may end up needing to order me a bigger one. Standing again, I rub at my belly, tell you this outfit absolutely did not fit like this before lockdown, and joke that it took me forever to stuff myself into it and that I feel like a stuffed sausage bursting at the seams. By the end, I am no longer trying to hide what happened to me at all. I am smiling wickedly, calling myself a naughty girl and a greedy l*ttle pig for stuffing myself like that, half-apologizing and half-showing off, and I leave you with one last bent-over tease as I playfully suggest that maybe a girl who got this fat deserves a lesson for it.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

This Video Is Part Of A 5-PART Release

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

I've released the 1st part.

TODAY, I am releasing PART 2, with the contents of the video detailed in the description portion above.

Next up, I will release the 3rd part.

Sequentially, I will release the 4th part.

Then, you guessed it, I will release the whole video, which will be discounted for your patience.

Elastan Blähbauch Strumpfhosen/Strümpfe Boss Secretly Fattens Me Up During Lockdown - PART 2 mit C4s.com