[qzar9999]

Well, today's my birthday, so I thought I'd give all you folks a present. That's how it works, right...? ^_^

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A loud wolf whistle startled her. She looked up to see Oleg leering at her from the pass-through window.

“Max, you're looking especially lovely today,” he said, his eyes squarely focused on her chest. “You really propped up the twins. New bra?”

“You're slipping, Oleg. Usually your staring isn't quite so obvious.” She glanced down at her chest to see the the zipper of her uniform was lower than she'd thought. She wasn't above revealing a hint of her generous endowments, as in her experience good tits meant good tips, but the current exposure was a bit much. Self-consciously, she pulled the zipper back up, trying to arrange it in just the right spot. She had a bit of trouble getting it right; no matter where she positioned the zipper, she seemed to be showing more of the girls than usual. Her uniform also felt oddly tight around her chest. Unable to arrange it to her satisfaction, she finally tugged the zipper up much higher than she'd have liked. However, the instant she let go, the tab started crawling back down, the zipper slowly opening itself as she watched in confusion.

“Hey, self-removing shirts. I can get behind that,” Oleg said with a grin.

“Ugh,” Max groand. “Screw it. It's not like there's anybody in here to stare at my tits anyway except you and that chick.”

“Hey, what about me?” Han chimed in indignantly.

“You don't count, you're not tall enough to see them,” Max replied with a smirk. She got up from the stool and stepped back over to Caroline's table, where the blonde was fidgeting with her designer dress as she frowned at the menu. “See anything you like? Or at least something you won't actively choke on?”

Caroline took another sip of her water, then tugged uneasily at the gold baubles around her neck. “I don't suppose you guys have sushi,” she said without much hope.

“I can have Oleg undercook some fish fillets, if that'll help,” Max replied. She absently smoothed out the skirt of her uniform—it felt slightly out of place.

The blonde woman looked up at Max, her face looking slightly ill at the prospect. “Um...maybe I'll just have a club sandwich.”

Caroline pinched at the gold on her neck again; to Max, it looked a little tight, and she wondered why the girl would wear such uncomfortable jewelry. As rich as she probably is, I'm sure she can afford a gaudy necklace that actually fits, she thought with a smirk. “Okay, club sandwich. Fries?”

“Sounds delicious,” Caroline replied. She frowned down at herself suddenly, her hands brushing at the bottom of the dress. “On second thought, maybe not. I feel a little bloated.”

“I know what you mean,” Max said. “Weird that it's happening to both of us. It's not like our cycles would have synced up that quickly,” she added with a grin.

The blonde woman chuckled softly. “Anyway...could I possibly get a salad with my sandwich instead of fries?”

“We've got lettuce, tomatoes, and I can probably break up some day-old bread for croutons,” Max said. “Only kidding,” she added at Caroline's expression. “I'll put your order in and it should be ready in a few minutes.” As Max turned away, she saw Caroline tugging at the gold necklace again. It really looked like it was digging into her skin now; Max wondered how the girl had even gotten it on in the first place.

A moment later her attention was diverted by her own discomfort as she felt her panties starting to give her a wedgie under her uniform. “Great,” she muttered. She could probably have ducked behind the counter or into the kitchen to try to sort it out, but she didn't want to give Oleg any more material to work with. Irritably, she marched up to the counter, turned in Caroline's ticket, and untied her apron (wondering as she did so why the strings felt tight). “Club sandwich, Oleg! I've gotta hit the ladies' room, Han,” she said.

“Need any help taking off your underwear, Max?” Oleg said over his shoulder as he began assembling the sandwich.

For a moment, she was startled at the thought that he somehow knew what was bothering her, but it quickly passed as she realized he was just being his usual pervy self. “Oleg, even if I lost all four limbs in a horrific accident, I still wouldn't let you help me take off my underwear.”

“Well, at least if that ever does happen, you'll still have all of the good stuff,” he replied with a smirk.

Max rolled her eyes and strode quickly to the bathroom, passing by Caroline's table. The blonde woman looked curiously tall sitting in the booth, and something else was wrong with her appearance, but Max's underwear situation was getting rapidly worse and she had no time to worry about some customer's problem. Max ducked into the women's restroom and locked the door behind her, moving to stand in front of the sink and the mirror. Her eyes boggled at the sight of her chest; her zipper had crawled all the way down to her waist, and the opening showed an absurd amount of breast flesh. Even the center of her bra was visible. If Oleg hadn't been busy cooking, he surely would've said something. What the fuck is going on with my uniform?

She grabbed the zipper tab and tugged upward, but it refused to move more than an inch or so. She tried gripping the opposite sides of the opening and pulling the fabric together, but even with it painfully compressing her ample tits, it still wouldn't close enough to allow the zipper to move. She made one last Herculean effort to yank it upward and succeeded only in breaking the tab. Fuck my life. Han better not make me pay for another uniform. She scowled at her reflection, briefly puzzled as to why something seemed off about it, and decided she would at least fix the wedgie that was getting more painful by the second.

Max reached her hands behind her back and grasped the hem of her yellow uniform skirt, tugging it up her hips so she could get at her underwear. She had a lot of trouble with the skirt—it didn't seem to want to go over her hips. When she was finally able to raise it enough, it felt painfully tight. She checked out her reflection, noticing that the fabric looked stretched and taut. Turning around, she glanced over her shoulder, briefly amused at the thought of checking out her own ass. Her amusement quickly faded when she saw that her lacy red panties had somehow become a thong. Not only that, but... My ass looks bigger. Am I gaining weight? She tried to adjust her panties to resolve the wedgie situation, but no matter what she did they felt too tight on her, and every tug or pull made the waistband dig painfully into her skin.

“Ugh! Fuck!” she snarled. “That's exactly what I need, to start getting fat off of Oleg's horrible cooking.” With a groan of disgust, she gave up on trying to fix her underwear and pulled her skirt back down. She had more trouble getting it over her hips, and even when she got it as far down as it would go, it seemed too short. The fabric, too, felt tighter than it had moments ago. She fidgeted, thinking perhaps she didn't have it in place correctly, but nothing she did helped. Twisting around to check out her backside again, she saw the skirt was as tight as a drum across her butt and barely came down far enough to cover it. When she turned forward again, the mirror revealed that the gap over her chest was even wider, her huge breasts spilling out obscenely through the inadequate front of her uniform, its red stripes warped around the sides of her ample curves.

She tried once more to pull the front of the shirt closed, but the only thing she accomplished was pressing her breasts together, making them look even larger. She grinned at the mirror. “Heh. Not like the girls need any help, but damn!” Unfortunately, fidgeting with her shirt made the sleeves feel tight, too. She pulled at them in an attempt to readjust them, but they felt like they were getting tighter every time she moved. She gasped in shock when one of them tore loudly at the seam, the sleeve splitting from her shoulder. “Seriously, what the hell? Is my uniform disintegrating?” she asked her reflection. Another tearing sound answered her question. She flicked her eyes rapidly up and down her mirror image, searching for the source of the new rip. Her gaze traveled from the torn shoulder seam, down past her tits bulging through the open front of the shirt, across the skirt stretched tightly over her hips, all the way to the hem of the skirt, which looked almost high enough to show off her panties--

Wait. Why can I see my thighs in the mirror? Max shouldn't have been able to see below her hips, since the sink normally came up to almost her waist. However, it was clear from her refelction that the basin didn't even reach all the way up to her groin. Looking back up, she realized that her eye level was almost to the top of the mirror. What the fuck is going on? It's like I'm...taller? Her confusion vanished a moment later when something more urgent drew her attention. The pressure on her groin from her too-tight underwear was suddenly relieved when she heard a loud snap...and she was horrified to see a torn scrap of red fabric dangling from the bottom of her skirt.