You awkwardly approach the booth, not used to your new size and trying to move in a manner that doesn’t cause your struggling underwear, the only thing still protecting your modesty, from tearing up anymore than they already have. As you get to the control booth, the person inside gives you only a quick, disinterested glance, as if you hadn’t just gained a shit-ton of weight, which actually, now that you think about it, is probably something pretty common here.
“Hi, um, you wouldn’t be able to help me with, uh, with these?” you ask meekly, holding up scraps of your ruined clothes.
Without a pause he points to a nearby door, “That way, fatty.”
You turn around and see the door, as well as that it says "for fat people." Seeing as you are indeed fat now, you decide to walk into the room. “Maybe it’ll have some spare clothes,” you think. You enjoy the feeling of your body jiggling slightly with each step. As you enter, you find yourself in a long room, and you see two doors, one of which says exit, as well as two tables, one laden with food, the other covered in a variety of different colored drink cans with some labels on them. No clothes in this room though. You’re about to head through the other door, when you start to feel really…
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