Grab Zoe's Purse, and Leap from the Window!

Out of the corner of your eyes you glance Zoe's purse, or at least one of them, by the door. It's a trim, black, hard leather bag with one stiff round handle. It's adorned in silver ornamentation, clasps, and zippers, and looks expensive. With one irreverent swing it flies out the window, and into the muddy garden below. You're right behind it, though with none of the ease. You go head first, and don't have the time to change your strategy once you realize how bad an idea it is. Your belly stops you from simply crawling through like you might have before, instead tipping you over and nearly spinning you out the window. Your heels strike the raised window pane above you with a sharp and reverberating 'Pang!', and a second later you hear the door fly open.

A chorus of words are barked out, seemingly all at once.
"Stop What You're Doing!" "Over Here!" "Don't Move! Don't Move!"

You couldn't follow that last order even if you wanted to as your feet finally slip past the window and you tumble. The world slips away, and all sense and direction give way to dizziness, but a second later, you're laying on your back in an overgrown box shrub that resembles a muffin more than a box. You roll, manage to land on your feet, and run, only just snatching Zoe's purse with your fingers as you do.

You swing open your rear fence gate, and slam it shut, then run across the gravel lined alley, through a second gate, and into your neighbors back yard. The agents, whoever they are, opt not to leap through the window, but instead come barreling out of the back door of your house with all the speed and grace of a wildebeest stampede.

With a prayer, you hop and wobble your way up your neighbors deck, and turn the doorknob to their house. it's open! You close and lock that door behind you just as the agents charge past your back fence in pursuit. You don't slow down, and thankfully don't see your neighbor as you charge through the halls and out their front door, and keep loping awkwardly to the houses across the street. Running isn't easy, and you're already gasping for air, but can't seem to catch a full breath despite your best efforts. Your gasps are sharp and restricted, no matter how much you try to drink in the refreshing breeze.

You hear the men still shouting in the distance, and only just catch a glimpse of them as you slam the gate to someone else's backyard closed. You pass house after house, gate after gate, and slowly but surely the sounds of pursuit fade, but you don't stop. You've passed out of your neighborhood by now, and keep charging on past a hedge row and into a more open cul de sac. Your pace slows, ever so slightly, and bit by bit, you start to become aware of yourself again.

Your long hair is damp with sweet. It sticks to the back of your neck, and forehead, matted and stuffy. A bead of sweat tickles your cheek as it races from forehead to chin, and with foul expression you realize sweat is dribbling down your breasts as well, tickling them terribly. Sweat gathers slick and slimy under and between your boobs, and you scratch as subtly as you can manage. It's only now that you realize your white wife beater is hugging the curve of your boobs tightly. Being drenched in your sweat, it's as good as transparent. Your belly is also hanging out in the open, swinging gravidly back and forth with each step. Your shirt must have worked its way up, showing more and more of your belly as you ran.

Realizing how conspicuous you must look, and more than a little indecent, you tug your tank top down, and button up the plaid shirt. It's a mercifully cool day, and as your heart rate slows, a breeze slips up your loose sleeves, and sends a shiver down your spine.

You keep walking, and realize that somewhere during your escape, your panties wedged themselves deep in your asscheeks, and are flossing your butt with every step. You tug, and wiggle, and hop, but only manage to shift your jeans lower on your body. As sticky and sweaty as you are, and as tight as your low riders are, your panties aren't moving.

The denim of your jeans hugs you as tightly as yoga pants, restricting your movement, and making everything chafe, but still you keep walking. Past the cul de sac. Into a park, then a school, and a strip mall after that. It isn't until you reach a bus stop at least a mile from your house, that you finally take a seat, panting heavily. As you sit, your jeans slide further down your ass, and refuse to ride high enough to cover the top curves of your cheeks. With a sigh, you shift the oversized shirt, back as best as you can, and pull out Zoe's purse, wondering what spoils you might have managed to save.

There's no room for it in your lap, as your belly already fills the seat, so you set it beside you and start rummaging around. To your surprise, and delight, you find everything you could have wanted.

Zoe's wallet, long skinny, and a black leather pair to the purse. It doesn't have any money, but it has her cash cards and ID... not that you'd be able to easily pass as her. You find a mess of papers, envelopes, medicines, bottles, cosmetics, and more, but reaching for something heavy in the bottom you pull out her phone in a pink and black case. Hoping beyond hope, you press the home button, and swipe the screen.

"Yes!" You shout out, garnering the glances of the small crowd around you. You frown meekly, and try to shrink down into your seat.

The phone was unlocked. Slowly, the meaning of this dawns on you. Her texts, direct messages, calls, and more might be available... All the way back to the night she was kidnapped... With this phone you might actually be able to find out where Zoe is, and with her a way to fix your body!

But you can't do it alone... Can you?