Someone tries to fix her clothes at the party

Sheryl walked a couple blocks to the 7-11 and bought a 12-pack of Corona Extra to bring to the party, also deciding to get an extra bottle just for herself. Hitching an Uber, she got in and drank her bottle while explaining her situation to the driver.

"Wow, miss, that's gotta suck. Want me to go back to your place so you can get some clothes? Your nipples are really showing... no charge if you live in the same neighborhood!"

Sheryl thought long and hard about the offer. Her fly was wide open, and she could feel the breeze on the roll of the jean flaps just an inch above her most intimate areas (thank God she shaved religiously), not to mention her tank top chafing her increasingly-erect nipples.

"I live in El Cajon..." she admitted to the driver as they left Chula Vista on the outskirts of San Diego. Her party was in Escondido, on the other side of town, and while she usually took the trolley to and from work and the gym ever since her car was repossessed, she was already late enough as it is to go back home and call another Uber from her place. Still, she was hoping that the Uber driver would sympathize and make a detour.

"Sorry, ma'am..." the driver sighed, "that would be another 20 minutes, even without traffic. I can drop you off at Ross or Target, or someplace else to make you decent."

Sheryl cringed at the implication of his last sentence, but remembered that she had less than $100 in her bank account since payday wasn't until tomorrow. Her credit cards were maxed out, so she couldn't afford this trip, the trip back, and new clothes, especially since she had more than enough at her house.

"No no, that's fine..." she resigned, "off to Escondido we go!" as she nursed the bottle in the car.

The Uber drove her up to a California ranch house while she got out and thanked him, especially after he let her keep her empty bottle in his backseat. She lowered the 12 pack in front of her shorts, hoping no one would notice her wardrobe issues.

"Hey hey, Sher Bear's come with the Co-ro-na..." Jack was the host and the life of the party, and had noticed Sheryl meekly walk up to the table with her beer.

"Ha ha, yeah..." she stammered nervously as she placed the 12-pack on the table by the snacks and punch. Jack noticed that Sheryl's fly was quite down and flapping out, and pointed that out to her.

"Uh, yeah, my clothes got really small for some reason, so now they don't button up all the way..." she admitted.

"Here, let me have at it!" Jack offered as he zipped up Sheryl's shorts, causing them to gouge into her hips as he went for her button.

"Wait, no, Jack!" she jumped as the muscly jock kept struggling to put the ends of the waistband together to button her shorts. Sheryl felt increasing pain as the shorts went into her skin and buttcrack, until eventually she felt nothing as the seam on the left side of her shorts gave way and caused the entire side of the jorts to flap loosely around her right leg, the whole thing falling down and pooling at her right ankle.

"Oh, my, God, I'm so sorry!" Jack was genuinely remorseful as he picked up the ruined garment and inspected not only the left seam but also the beginning cracks on the right side of the shorts. He also saw the deep gouge marks on Sheryl's now-exposed hips. "I didn't know they were so tight!" he looked through the pockets as shallow as only women's jean shorts could have, and fished out Sheryl's phone, wallet, and keys to give to her.

"These are way too small, but I'm so sorry that happened!" he walked over to the trash at the end of the table and threw the ruined shorts away. "I'll Venmo you $50 for them, how about that?"

Sheryl was indeed a bit more comfortable (well, physically) now that the shorts of pain were no longer digging into her skin, and she did appreciate the money. She was now, however, bottomless, as she clamped her hands over her pussy with an iron grip.

"Oh my god, Sheryl, I didn't know you were commando!" Jack noticed loudly, drawing the crowd's attention to the incident. "Here, let's fix that," as he unspooled several squares of paper towels and tied a very rough wrap skirt around Sheryl's hips.

"T-thanks," she stammered as she was finally (somewhat) covered, although the Bounty paper towels were rough on her skin. Hopeful that the skirt would hold up through the night, she decided to mingle with the crowd and put this behind her.