After getting Maya dressed and settled, Jennifer returned to her room, the door clicking quietly shut behind her. Her reflection in the mirror greeted her with the now-familiar sight—soft belly hanging slightly over her waistband, thick thighs pressed together, and full, heavy breasts still sagging slightly despite their smaller size.
She wasn’t who she used to be. But today, she didn’t care.
She was done hiding.
Jennifer reached for the Lycra shorts folded neatly on the chair. Black, high-waisted, and barely thick enough to qualify as modest, they stretched tight as she pulled them over her hips. The fabric strained across her wide rear, hugging every curve, disappearing slightly into the deep cleft of her ass. Her thighs jiggled visibly with every movement, and the shorts outlined every dip, dimple, and roll she’d earned.
Next came the crop top—short, snug, and made of soft, stretchy cotton. As she pulled it over her head, it clung to her chest instantly, the hem just brushing the top of her belly. Her breasts overflowed slightly, the fabric straining over the swell of them, the neckline dipping low enough to expose the upper curve of her cleavage. She adjusted it once, twice—then gave up.
It wasn’t going to fit perfectly. But that was fine.
She looked in the mirror, hands on her soft hips. Her belly was still there. Her breasts still bounced with every shift. Her thighs still jiggled when she moved. And her ass—there was no hiding that anymore.
But something in her expression was different now.
Confidence. Defiance. Power.
She turned, giving herself one last once-over. Every inch of her was stretched to the max. And every inch of her was hers.
Outside the door, Maya called in her higher-pitched lisp, “Are we ready yet?”
Jennifer smiled.
“Yeah,” she said, opening the door with a bounce in her step. “Let’s finish this.”
And with every jiggle, sway, and stretch of fabric, she walked toward the end of whatever Kira had started—and whatever she was going to end.