Late Night Observation

[babeonboardirma]

'Huh...did this get smaller last time I wore it?'

Maybe she botched the laundry last time she did clothing or perhaps she was just gaining weight? Ugh, hopefully not the latter she really didn't want to attempt to go on another diet, since she couldn't keep to it. Fingers tugged at the hem that would hike up along her thighs. The shirt feel a bit more snug around her chest and April had neglected to bring a bra for her. Well, not like she slept in them.

Even wearing this it felt like her body was still getting warm. You'd think the sewers would be more drafty. Usually she wouldn't bother coming down here less it was an emergency or because of April, but no choice in the matter since she was under 'observation'.

She's been trying not to be too clumsy, but it never failed that hurricane Irma would knock over something or just bump right into one of the guys after dropping her glasses. Hand idly pawed the rather firm plastron chest to steady herself along with the other on a bicep.

'Ooof--! S-sorry, my bad. I'm trying to get use to navigating a place that's not my apartment.'

Comments

[leonardoleads]

The sewer lair was its usual drafty self; the only difference was that it had a guest staying over until she could get back on her feet. Or rather, feet that were her normal size and not ... well, accompanying her fifty-foot frame.

Irma Langinstein had recently concluded what could only be described as the klutziest kaijuu rampage New York City had ever seen. It had rather embarrassing for everyone involved, even if Donatello was kind of fascinated by the physics of it. Doctors and scientists from all over the world wanted to study the phenomenon, but as far as most of the world knew, she had disappeared from the public eye.

At least now she was back to her regular size, riding out the last of the effects of the enlarging ray. Things were quiet now.

He heard the distinctive sound of glasses clattering to the floor of the nook in their lair that served as Irma's 'guest room'. Donatello rounded the corner just in time to bump into Irma, who was in the process of bending over to find her glasses. Since she was nearsighted to the point of near-blindness without her glasses, this was going to take a while.

As Irma steadied herself on his plastron, Donatello reached back and drew his bo from its holder in his belt. "Here, let me help," he told her as he held out the bo, carefully maneuvering the tip underneath her glasses to pick it up. Raising the bo's tip, the glasses slid across the length of the wooden weapon to Donnie's hand.

"Here you go." As he handed the thick-rimmed glasses to Irma, he took a moment to look at her current condition. She was sweaty and wearing a shirt that showed off her curves and--

--wait, Irma had curves?

"Um, how are you feeling? Any side effects since last time we spoke?"