Chapter 2 - fifteen years later...

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon... ah, there!" *ping* *plink* "FUCK!"

Samantha cried out in frustration as the copper button of her jeans flew off, bouncing off the mirror before rolling to a stop on the apartment floor. With an annoyed grunt, she peeled off the jeans and tossed them on the bed. Not only were they too small, but now they were unreturnable. Another ninety dollars down the drain. And the button scratched the mirror!

She looked at herself in the mirror, noting the contours and bulges of her body. And the former were certainly far outnumbered by the latter. Her tummy had become a belly, her breasts were very susceptible to gravity, and her ass in black Spanx had all the graceful curvature of two full trash bags. Samantha was painfully aware of her body's less-than-desirable status, and went to great lengths to conceal it. Her workplace outfit—a loose-fitting blouse, cardigan, and knee-length pleated skirt—did the job well enough. Her more casual weekend wear was where she ran into trouble. Every once in a while, she'd go through her closet, try on everything, give what didn't fit to Goodwill, and go buy new clothes. It was practically a ritual in her household growing up; her mother did it every other year, always right before tax season so they could use the Goodwill receipts on their deductible. Samantha started doing it when she was twenty-five, but these last few years it had become annual.

Samantha knew exactly who was to blame: her damn belly! It was a constant reminder of her impulsivity and lack of self-control, constantly taunting her every time she looked down to get dressed, put on her seatbelt, or read the scale. She'd tried a few exercise routines and diets but whether it was a fad or simple calories in-calories out, her belly would find a way to sabotage it. From demanding some donuts in the breakroom to growling every time she passed the grocery store's snack aisle, it would always find a way to erode her willpower and send her two steps back for every step forward.

While she bemoaned her body's betrayal, Samantha glanced at herself in the mirror and noticed something... familiar about her form. She walked into her closet and pulled out an orange sweater, as well as sliding on her now-busted jeans (far easier to fit over her ass now that the button was no longer an obstacle). She looked in the mirror, and that's when it hit her: she was a splitting image of her mother minus a few wrinkles, from the muffin top to the undergut to the round face to the brown bobbed haircut. She turned around and squeezed her ass-cheeks, watching them jiggle exactly as she remembered.

'Jesus Christ, I've turned into my mother.' But that was how she remembered her mother in her mid-forties, and Samantha was still more than a decade away from that, and she hadn't had any children. 'If this is me now... holy shit, how much bigger am I going to get?!'

Samantha held up her hands to her mouth in shock as she tried to process this. She needed to do something to reverse the course, or at least stop it. Another diet, some workout equipment, and hopefully this kick-in-the-pants would be enough to set her on the right track. It was then that she noticed that her jeans had fallen down to her ankles. But first, new jeans.

She pulled out her phone and checked her bank statement: sixty-two dollars and three cents. It was thankfully only three days until payday, and her rent was all covered, but the fact that she had so little disposable income at the moment brought her a twinge of embarrassment. 'Maybe if you cut back on your food budget, piggy,' she chided herself.

There weren't really many people Samantha could count on to spot her some cash discreetly, and those she could count on were likely broker than she was. However, there was one person who would gladly do so without hesitation. But did she want to give her the satisfaction of having that power over her? Hell, she of all people was the one most to blame for Samantha's current predicament! But who else was there?

Feeling like she had run out of options, Samantha dialed a number.

«Hello?»

"Hey mom, it's me."