They cut the power to her house.
It wasn't even her fault this time! Veronica didn't get paid because of (what else?) nepotism and the boss saying that he had good lawyers; and no one was hiring so...
Excuses, that's what it sounded like. Veronica was making excuses yet again and trying to lie to herself.
She was hot, sweaty, and irritable because of the aforementioned and all she wanted right now was a nice, cool shower to forget her recent problems.
Veronica went into her room and took for granted her king-sized bed that her parents used to use when they were alive. She grabbed the most breathable clothing she had stashed away in her near empty basket, which happened to be a somewhat stretchy red T-shirt of an artist she adored, a mismatching bra and panties that looked to be a bit too tight unfortunately, and some jeans that she could maybe squeeze into.
After collecting them Veronica made the trek through her inherited house to arrive shortly at her bathroom, which was as pristine as she had left it. The toilet was sparkling, the tiles were freshly mopped, and the two windows were both open to allow in the lingering summer heat to pass through.
While the cicadas buzzed incessantly, the young woman lazily tossed her fresh clothes onto the toilet lid, not sparing a second glance at its position and orientation. No, instead Veronica looked to herself in the mirror and scowled at her features, as per usual. Her breasts strained against the thin fabric of her sweat-stained tank top that she wore, the bra clasps in the back digging almost painfully into her skin to support the weight in front. Her stomach showed just the barest hint of belly fat that stubbornly refused to go away, no matter how much she tried all those keto diets and starving herself, and her pale thighs and ass looked as if they were straining against her midnight black leggings that were only a few years old.
She sighed in defeat on her "gifts" as she took off her top, undid the clasps on her back, and then let her tits bounce out, the all too familiar relief flooding her mind. Veronica took out her phone, selected her favorite genre of music to blast loudly before placing it aside on the sink counter. After stripping off her leggings and her basic pink panties and letting them fall to the floor, she stepped into her cool bathtub. She turned the knob and let the cool water flow over her skin, not once noticing that something was amiss.
If she had not turned up her music all the way to hear over the crashing sounds of the flowing water, she would've heard
It
.
If she had not damaged her eardrums all throughout her life by listening to music at dangerous levels, she would've heard
It
.
And if she had not left the other window open and so defenseless, where a small slithering mass of unidentifiable goo could slip in and meld with her fresh clothing sitting on the toilet lid, becoming indistinguishable from the original?