...only for someone to knock on your door.

Knock knock knock.

Your heart sinks in your flabby chest. Your eyes shoot to the doorknob and see that it's still unlocked. "U-Um, don't come in!" You wince, realizing that with so much flab piled onto your body your voice has gotten a little deeper. You still sound like yourself, but not exactly the same.

"Sarah? Sweetheart?" Your mother (Judy, 38) asks from the other side of the door. "Why don't you want me to come in, and why do you... sound weird?"

Your heart is racing, and you know the only way out of this is to use the program. You grunt and reach forward blindly, your flabby arms squeezing into the sides of your belly as you blindly grope for the keyboard. "Just- just a second, Mom!" Every time you speak you know you're only making it worse. Since you turned 18, she's been trying to respect your privacy, but with how suspicious you're being, you know you're pushing it.

"Sarah, I just need to ask you a question. Are you getting changed?" She asks, and right as you're about to latch onto the excuse she gave you, she continues. "Sarah, you're a grown woman, but I'm your mother, you can get changed around me!" The doorknob turns, and...