"You wanna go get lunch?" asked Tom, unsure of what he was doing.
"Well, I mean," said Steph, "I'd rather n--"
Steph wants to go out with me, and she actually knows where she wants to eat, said an unprompted thought in Tom's head.
"--not eat lunch alone today, so sure!" finished Steph. "Wanna meet up at the Midtown Diner? I hear it's pretty good."
"Holy shit," whispered Tom.
"What? Surprised there's a good restaurant in town?" asked Steph.
"Oh, no, I um," said Tom. "No, I'm not surprised. I'm sure there's a load of good restaurants around here." There was a bizarre twinkling noise in the air.
"Well, we are in the restaurant capital of America," said Steph. "I swear to god, I'm gonna gain fifty pounds by the end of the semester."
"I mean," said Tom, "I wouldn't worry. You're thicker than a bowl of oatmeal, so--oh no, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to say--"
Steph's cocked eyebrow and ambiguously-offended facial expression would have occupied Tom's attention, had her already-large ass not decided to start growing at that moment. Her jeans began to creak as the distinct sound of seams ripping filled the air. She looked behind her, then patted her basket-ball-sized buttocks.
"Yeah, I guess another fifty pounds wouldn't hurt me too much," said Steph. "My pants are a different story, though." She shrugged. "Anyway. See you at lunch!"
Tom stared at Steph as she walked away. Her jeans had split down the middle, revealing a pair of thoroughly-stretched heart-print panties. This...wasn't normal. Something was going on, and he needed to figure out what. How would he go about this?
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