Donna "the door" Duke, a bookworm who mostly stayed at home

Donna didn't like complaining about her changes. They weren't that bad. She could've been like her brother (now sister) or her nymphomaniac mother. But therein lies the problem, they weren't that bad. She didn't need a stipend or medical care or anything out of the ordinary so besides the one free check-in everyone got with the support bills and a paid-for gym membership, she was on her own here and she hated that.

Donna was made fun of all throughout middle school, high school, and community college for her looks. Specifically, her underdeveloped chest and backside and her short height. Beanpole, boychest, no-ass, she heard it all. The favorite among her tormentors though was "Donna the door" as she was built like a flat rectangle. This led to her dreading gym period and generally avoiding parties, get-togethers, and anything that would involve her hanging out with other people. As an adult, she didn't mind it though. She didn't care about how she looked and liked staying in with her stories. It got her a copyeditor job she rather liked actually. Apparently, it wasn't enough for whatever divine arbiter was in control of the universe though.

Now Donna had a chest ten cup sizes too big for her current closet. Normally that wouldn't matter. Donna never wore clothes that fit anyways. She'd just stay in her oversized hoodies and read and listen to music and edit for her job in the comfort of her home. But the role reverser also decided Donna wasn't 'energetic' enough. So now the woman who hadn't gone to the gym since she found a way to test out of her P.E. credit for college had to spend 7 days a week there. She didn't have the clothes for it and yeah, she got money for new ones, but nowhere in her area sold her size! Donna had to order special sports bras for this and they still hadn't come with the supply issue problems from the reverser. So she had to do with what she had right now.

What she had right now didn't work. She bought all the sports bras she could fit into from the local store but as they went up in cup size they went down in support. She was already in pain when she used the bras that fit her better just to walk around (she could no longer take the bus or drive if she was going somewhere in town) so she had to use the ones she bulged out of to work out if she had any hope of support. Which meant her tits spent more time popping out than they did inside the bra. Donna spent her entire life needing to pad any bras she wore and now she has to deal with constantly adjusting and readjusting tits almost as big as her head every 5 seconds.

Donna checked the clock on her phone. She was not going to get in enough reps today which mean unless she wanted a mind-splitting headache when she got home she was going to have to pull out her laptop and do her job, including a work meeting, in a flimsy top on the gym floor before trying again. The guys (and Kimberly) always drooled over her chest when she skyped in a bra but she built up way too much boob sweat whenever she wore a sweater to the gym and her back hurt enough without stuffing something else in her backpack. She should ask the owner if she could store some clothes here long term. He had already let Donna stay the night once when she skipped a day due to the flu and couldn't go to sleep until she at least tried her routine after dark.

She snuck a glance at the mirror wall and pouted. She was not good at working out. Her compulsion didn't care if she made progress, just if she wasted time doing it so she never bothered to improve. So despite months of learning every machine that didn't require her constantly lifting up and down the weights on her chest, she was no slimmer, not any more toned, and still couldn't see a single muscle. Donna sighed, popped her girls back in, and started working the shoulder press again.