Hex Maniac, Clothing Trouble.

“Fit, curse you!” Hex Maniac hissed, hopping from foot to foot as she tried to heave the tight jeans up her plump thighs. The undersized denim was as stubborn as ever however, resolutely ignoring her mumbled oaths and threats. The jeans were simply too small; though they were only at her mid-thigh they were already uncomfortably compressing her flabby legs, the fat of her upper thigh spilling out over the top and making further progress a nightmare.
She grinned down at them manically, eye twitching. She knew that these had fit when she’d bought them only a couple of months ago, but now they so tight they were threatening to cut off the blood supply to her feet. This was ridiculous.
It wasn’t as though she hadn’t realised that she was putting on weight, of course. She’d bought the bra she was currently wearing at the same time as the jeans, and she couldn’t pretend that that fit properly anymore – the straps that looped up over her shoulders dug so deep into the soft fat overflowing the cups that they were almost lost from view altogether, pale flab bulging out dangerously in every direction and threatening to spill free entirely every time she moved. Still though, she hadn’t realised quite how much she’d put on until just now, when confronted with the fact that these jeans that she’d bought only two months ago were already nigh-unwearable. Maybe she should cut back on the Moomoo milk…

Growling with irritation, she gave another heave on the jeans, hopping up and down to facilitate progress. Her breasts and butt jiggled and bounced wildly in the process, four matched mounds of pale, wobbling flab overflowing her tight underwear in every direction, but she actually succeeded in tugging the obstinate jeans a few inches further up her thighs. There, however, she was confronted by a much greater obstacle – her backside. The soft, flabby flesh of her butt only bunched up uncomfortably more she heaved on the jeans, overflowing the back of the waistband. Her rear may be yielding and pliable, but there was simply too much flab there to squeeze it all in at once.
She knew that she should just give it up and wear a dress like she always did – at least those stretchy black things always fit, even if they weren’t necessarily flattering – but she was too irate to give up now. Summoning all of her strength, she yanked on the jeans, feeling stitching strain. For a moment it seemed like she was still going to fail, then suddenly something shifted and the jeans were suddenly a little looser, and she was able to drag them up over her expansive rear to her waist. Leaning over forwards to see past her bust, she sucked in her pudgy belly and managed to button the jeans.
She put her hands on her hips in satisfaction, not even the feeling of her palms sinking into the exaggerated muffin-top caused by the tight jeans enough to dent her sudden good mood. Maybe she hadn’t put on so much after all if she could still fit into these!

It was only later, once she’d already left her house and made it halfway to the town centre, that a cool breeze on her butt prompted her to look over her shoulder. Finally, she saw what the townspeople had been gawping at for the last ten minutes – that at some point in putting them on, the jeans had ripped all the way down the back, and that her skimpy black underwear – not to mention a significant amount of her pasty white backside – was on full display.