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It was a pretty crumby motel, but it was all Tracey could afford. She rolled into town on fumes, and if she was going to make it to where her new job was, she was going to need every cent she could save to get there. She knew doing social media management in the small town she had grown up in would be tough, but she hadn’t thought it would be literally impossible. After college, she watched as her savings slowly dwindled away with each passing week. Having no job tended to have that effect. Finally, she decided to broaden her scope and look for jobs elsewhere. Just before it was too late, she landed one, but it was on the other side of the country. She took her stuff, what little money she had, and set out.

Now here she was, thousands of miles from home in some single-stoplight town she had never heard of, pulling into the most run-down-looking motel she had seen yet on her journey. She needed a cheap place to stay though, and this looked like it was going to be as cheap as she was ever going to find. Tracey parked her car and got out. The hot sun of the afternoon beat down on her oppressively. She hoped that these rooms at least had air conditioning. Tracey spotted the small corner office that would undoubtedly contain the grumpy manager of this establishment and headed towards it.

She pulled the old wooden door to the office open and stepped inside. The air inside was only slightly cooler than the air outside. A bead of sweat ran down Tracey’s forehead. The room was barely furnished, only containing a single desk and a couple of things pinned to the wall, including a calendar. The room was also devoid of any human life. “Great,” Tracey thought, “I can’t even get a room because there’s nobody here.” That’s when she spotted a small bell resting on the front desk. A small plaque propped up next to it simply said: “Ring me.” Tracey wasn’t sure how ringing this would do anything in a room with nobody in it, but something about the bell drew her in. 

It was small, shiny, and clearly just begging to be rung. Tracey hovered her hand over the bell and, with a short, precise motion, smacked her hand down on the little lever. A pleasant-sounding ding rang out through the quiet room. Tracey’s pants tightened. “Must be getting fat,” she thought to herself, not realizing that the tightness hadn’t been there prior to ringing the bell. Tracey eyed the bell, lifting her hand to deal it another blow. Another smack, another ding, and an audible groaning noise from her pants being stretched to their limit. Tracey cursed as she tried to readjust them. It was too hot in here to have clothing this restricting on, and her ass was starting to sweat heavily. 

Still transfixed by the bell, she rang it again. A small tear formed in the side of her pants as blood flow began to get cut off to her legs. Being able to take it no more, Tracey peeled her pants off like they were a second skin, managing to rip them further in the process. She took aim and launched them into a waste bin in the corner of the room. She felt much better as her sweaty ass began to cool slightly, having been released from its cloth prison. Her underwear was still tight, but they were stretchy enough that it didn't matter. Without missing a beat, she turned and slapped the bell again as soon as her pants had finished their arc into the trash. Her ass swelled to a mildly ridiculous size as her underwear slid its way firmly in between her ass cheeks, becoming a thong. 
Tracey was about to hit the bell again when it dawned on her. Nobody was coming, and she didn't really need to rent a room anyway. She could just go knock on the doors of the other residents until somebody wanted to let her in. All she would need to do is flaunt her massive ass, and they would probably bend over backwards to let her stay with them. Hell, she might even be able to take care of her little money problem at the same time.