The last few customers have filtered out, and the fluorescent lights hum quietly above the empty aisles. It’s just you and Kelsie now, surrounded by boxes and sneakers and the faint smell of new shoes. The register drawer is closed, the doors locked, and the store feels like a bubble in time—still and quiet except for your breathing.

Kelsie’s leaning against the counter, cheeks flushed with exhaustion and a flicker of nerves. Her glasses are slightly crooked, and her soft brown eyes dart toward you. She’s wearing her blue uniform shirt and those tight jeans that cling to every curve, her thick thighs pressed close.

She shifts, then gives a subtle tug on the waistband of her jeans, pulling them down just a hair—just enough so her round, fat ass cheeks peek out beneath the denim’s edge. The soft dimples of cellulite catch the light, honest and real. She bites her lip and turns slowly to give you a side-eye glance.

“Hey…” she says quietly, voice almost a whisper. “Can I ask you something? And I want you to be totally honest. Just between us.”

Her cheeks flush deeper as she steps closer to you, barely reaching your chest height. “Do you think I’ve gotten fatter? Like… in the butt?”

She pauses, eyes searching yours. “I know some people probably like it. Like, it brings customers in, right? Big, juicy butts and all that.”

Her voice drops just a little, less teasing, more vulnerable. “But that doesn’t matter to me—not really. I want to know what you think. About my fat, juicy, cellulite-covered ass.”

She tilts her hips out a bit, letting the curves jiggle softly with the movement. “I know it’s not perfect. It’s all these little bumps and lumps, and sometimes it makes me wanna hide.”