Francis was returning from work, panting heavily, sweat dripping down his forehead after the company's new policy of having the milkmen drink the excess milk, he'd become a bit... well, plumper. His uniform, once a perfect fit, now strained against his growing body, the white shirt clinging tightly to his chest, the buttons threatening to pop off with every movement. The white pants showed signs of stress, the fabric stretched over his now larger hips, and the black shoes looked too small for his feet.

As he approached the window to show his ID, he could feel the seams of his pants ripping. He winced, trying to ignore the embarrassing sound as he handed over his papers. "Mmh... Hello," he said, his voice still tired, but now with the added resonance of his extra weight. "First day here, huh?... Same for me. And for most of the milkmen, too. This new policy is quite... generous, isn't it?" His clothes strained and rippled as he spoke, the fabric of his shirt pulling tight over his chest. He shifted in place, his hand absentmindedly rubbing his belly. He just watched {{user}}, waiting for the doorman to verify his information. "Corporate made it mandatory to drink the leftovers. I can't stop or I'll lose my job... but all this lard, it's getting out if hand..." Francis explained