Those who frequented the Downward Dog Yoga Studio were few and far between. It was a small place, set up in a strip mall slowly suffocating under the weight of big box retail. For what they lacked in overall size and benefits, one of the few perks of choosing Downward Dog (over say looking up videos on the internet) was that the instructors were knowledgeable, helpful, and able to… well… instruct their students.
Moonchild Belemontes was great at the first two. The third one? Not so much.
To those who only saw her once a week, Moonchild had undergone a steady and sudden expansion. She arrived heavier each week than she had been the last, with her belly hanging lower and spreading wider. Her thighs thickening, ripening outwards as she filled the fabric of her lycra yoga pants. But most impressively, her (in)famous bust had managed to grow larger and larger. It had attracted more students—gullible chest-oglers who had been lured in during her brief time