Spooks and Spec Ops

Your heart tries to leap out of your chest as soon as you peak out of the window. The front of your house is swarmed by solid black vans, tall menacing, and unmarked. Two are blocking off the road in either direction, while still a third, clearly armored in metal plating, is parked opposite your house. You drop to your butt and back against the wall, as if already taking refuge against gunshot. All you can hear is your heartbeat as you summon up the courage to roll back around and peak over the window sill. Black clad, fully armed operators storm out of the van like the character from the latest modern shooter game. Flak vests, helmets, and rifles you can't identify at a glance. Your eyes are wide, and your breath is sharp and short, but before you have a chance to process what's going on, you hear a pounding at the door followed by a shout that sounds more like the bark of a rabid dog.

You can't hear what they say down the stairs, across the hall, and through the door but the sound fires a spike of adrenaline through your chest.

You crawl hands and knees into the nearest room and slam the door just in time to hear the the front door fly open and crash against the wall it's hinged on. More shouting reaches your ears, but can't pierce your frenzied thoughts and the words are lost on you. You've got to get out. You look around, realizing you're in Zoe's room. Pastel walls, paisley comforter on a white framed bed. dirty clothes, strewn across the floor, and clutter of cosmetics, books, and magazines, covering the desk and vanity. You curse your choice of rooms, and consider crawling back to your own bedroom, but the thought of crossing the hall, butt naked, exposed to the intruders sends a dark chill down your spine.

Hands trembling, and feet stumbling, you start grasping for clothes, anything within arms reach. You roll over and tug black panties with a thick pink him and waist band up your legs. They have a cheeky fit, only covering half of your pert ass, and squeeze far too tightly across your jiggly flesh. The waist band pinches beneath your belly cruelly, but you don't even slow down as you tug the nearest shirt over your head. It's a white tank, and won't even cover half your belly, so you grab the next nearest thing, pleasantly surprised to find it's the oversized blue and red plaid button down Zoe likes to wear around the house. This at least gives you some semblance of decency.

You slow down in time to heft yourself to your feet, and take a breath while looking for more clothes, but a crash from the kitchen scares you back to action. They'll be finished with the lower floor and basement any second.

Up your legs comes the nearest pair of jeans... Then... They stop half way, pinching your thighs, and hugging your legs tightly together. You whimper and groan as you start hopping and tugging, inching them up far too slowly. You tumble back into Zoe's bed, and flail your legs wildly before they finally slip past your bubble butt, and plop into place, still low around your ass and hips. The zipper zips a bit, but the button will never reach. Even these low risers are hopelessly distended by your belly. The legs are cuffed at the bottom revealing your ankles as you wiggle your feet into a red pair of chucks that look more like slippers than actual trainers.

At last, you turn your gaze to the window. You're two floors up, but at least the window faces the back yard rather than the front. For the first time you're grateful that you stumbled into Zoes room, as your room only has windows facing the front lawn. For the briefest of moments you marvel that you might actually be able to escape like this. You glance around the room, feeling like you're forgetting something, but the sound of clunky bootsteps kicking and clamoring up the stairs makes you realize your time to think is over.