Chapter 1

Remnants of sleep fade slowly as a heavy fog lifts from your mind. Your tired lids blink open, and awareness lazily creeps in. The sudden feeling of warmth wraps around you like a cocoon. Every inch of your skin feels smothered by the weight of your blankets…no, not just the blankets, something more.

You don’t feel the usual heaviness of sleep lingering in your limbs, but something deeper, more profound. It presses down on you, pinning you to the mattress in a way that feels alien. A faint, low groan cuts through the haze. It takes you a moment to place the sound, to realize that it’s coming from the bed. A mechanical complaint vibrates beneath you, and the creaks of springs pushed beyond their limit sound off faintly. It’s almost as if the bed is alive, as though trying to wake alongside you. It strains and struggles, protesting under the weight of something... under the weight of you.

Your mind stirs sluggishly. You become aware of how hot you are, far too hot, the sheets clinging to your skin like a second layer. You try to move, but the minor effort proves fruitless. Your body isn’t responding the way it usually does. Instead of the usual smooth movement, there’s resistance, softness pressing against softness.

Your body feels as though it has become its own gravity, pulling you inward and holding you captive. As your hands move beside you, they brush against something warm and pliant. You think it’s the sheets bunched up around you, at first. But then the realization hits you: it’s not the sheets. It’s you.

Panic starts to set in. You try rolling onto your side, but every movement feels wrong, unfamiliar, difficult. Your body shifts in waves, ripples of motion that take a moment to settle. Turning even slightly feels like navigating a ship through turbulent waters, your limbs are uncooperative, your core useless and heavy.

Feeling suddenly claustrophobic, you tug at the sheets, finally managing to free one abnormally heavy arm to reach up, rubbing your face. The action feels laborious, your arm brushing against the soft swell of your chest in a way that stops you cold.

Your chest... it feels fuller, unfamiliar. Even the simple act of breathing seems effortful, the rise and fall of your chest accentuated by the weight pressing down on you.

‘What’s happening?’ you think.

You try to sit up, your hands sinking into the plushness of your sides as you brace yourself. You’re surprised when your fingers meet an expanse of warm, yielding flesh where there should be firm muscle or bone. Your arms strain as you push, but the effort feels futile. Your torso doesn’t rise the way it should; it wobbles, shifts, and then collapses back with a thud.

The bed creaks again, louder this time, as though mocking your attempts.

‘It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.’ you think to yourself.

You’ve had dreams like this before. Many times before. Fantasies where you woke up transformed. Larger, heavier, fatter. Those dreams were vivid and exhilarating, but this... this is different. There’s no thrill in the struggle, no euphoria in the weight. There’s only confusion and a growing sense of dread.

Your hands begin to roam, exploring your body as if searching for answers. They glide over the unfamiliar curves and folds and rolls, tracing the outline of a stomach that feels impossibly large. It rises high in front of you, a heavy dome that dominates your middle. Your fingers sink into the soft flesh, and for a moment, you freeze, unable to reconcile what you’re feeling with what you know.

Your thighs press together in a way they never have before, the sheer width of them pinning you in place. Even your arms feel different, thicker, the skin softer beneath your touch. Every inch of you is new, foreign, and overwhelming.

‘Is this real?’

You try again to sit up, rocking back and forth in an attempt to generate momentum. The motion sends waves through your body, your stomach shakes with each effort. Beads of sweat form on your brow as you grunt and shift, the exertion leaving you breathless.

With each failure, you collapse back into the mattress, defeated. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, the weight of it resting heavily against your stomach. For the first time, you notice the sound of your own breathing. It’s heavy, labored, and accompanied by a faint wheeze.

This isn’t what you imagined.

You always believed you’d relish this fantasy if it ever came. You thought you’d bask in the inexplicable hotness of it, revel in the feeling of being…more. But now, the reality feels almost suffocating. You can’t ignore the mix of awe and fear building in your chest.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you manage to push yourself upright. Your arms waver under the strain, and your body protests every inch of the way. When you finally sit up, you’re overwhelmed by the heft of your own weight settling around you.

Your stomach pools onto your lap, the heavy curve of it spilling out in front of you and to your sides. Your hips spread wide across the mattress, holding you in place. Even your shoulders feel broader and less defined.

And then, you look down.

Undeniable and vast. A body you barely recognize, but is somehow attached to you. Your hands shake as they trace the dome of your stomach, the thick folds at your sides, the soft pillow of your chest. You’ve woken to hundreds of pounds of new, quivering fat overtaking your form. Something that should be an impossibility, is now your reality.

You’ve become everything you ever wanted. And yet, at this moment, you’re not sure it’s what you wanted at all.

You decide to stand, or at least try. Sitting up felt monumental, and the idea of standing seemed like a new kind of challenge. The weight of your body isn’t just something you feel, it’s something you must negotiate with, every shift and pull forcing you to acknowledge its presence.

For a moment, you simply sit at the edge of the bed, hands braced against the mattress. You glance down, seeing your stomach spill heavily into your lap, a soft mound that rises and falls with your uneven breaths. Your legs are splayed wide to accommodate the heft of your stomach and the fullness of your thighs as they press against its sides. The floor feels distant, The mattress creaks softly beneath you, your weight pooling and shifting with even the smallest movement.

The bathroom door is just across the room. It looks close, yet it may as well be a mile away.

You close your eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. The air feels thick, your chest straining to expand under the weight pressing down on it. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? This size, this feeling? Yet now, faced with the effort of moving, you feel paralyzed, not just by your body but by the struggle you know looms ahead.

You slide your hands along the outside of your thighs, fingers sinking into the plush softness. It’s surreal, like touching someone else entirely. The thought makes your stomach twist, and you force yourself to focus. You need to at least try.

With a deep breath, you plant your feet firmly on the floor. You lean forward, gripping the edge of the mattress for leverage. The action sends a wave through your stomach, the heavy mass shifting and pressing against your thighs. Your arms tremble as you push yourself upward, every part of you straining with the effort.

Your knees object first, a dull ache spreading through them as they bear the brunt of your weight. Your thighs burn, the muscles unused to this kind of work, but finally, after a moment that feels like an eternity, you rise.

You’re almost overpowered by the feeling. Gravity pulls at you in ways you’ve never experienced before, with every inch of your body demanding attention. Your stomach hangs low, brushing against your thighs, and your hips feel impossibly wide, the shift in balance forcing you to adjust your posture.

For a moment, you sway, unsteady on legs so thick that they stand feet apart. You reach for the wall, your hand pressing against it for balance. The cool, solid surface grounds you, and you let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your ears.

Your first step is tentative, your foot sliding forward cautiously. The movement sends a ripple through your body, your stomach swaying heavily, thighs brushing together in a rhythmic, almost hypnotic motion. Each step feels like its own task. You have to propel each foot forward in a wide waddle that shifts your mass from side to side, the effort leaving you breathless.

But beneath the exhaustion, something stirs. A faint spark of pleasure unfurls deep inside you, growing with each deliberate step. The weight of your body, the way it shifts and moves with you, the way it slows you down, is intoxicating. You’ve dreamed of this for so long, fantasized about how it would feel, and now...now it’s real.

Your hands drift to your sides as you take another step, fingers brushing against the soft curve of your hips. The touch sends a shiver down your spine.

‘This is me. All of this is me.’

The thought sends a flicker of arousal through you, unexpected but undeniable. You pause for a moment, leaning heavily against the wall, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. The exertion is staggering, but so is the growing feeling of enjoyment in your size.

After a brief break you take another step, then another, each one an act of utter will. Your legs quiver beneath you, muscles straining with the effort, but the friction of your thighs, the wobble of your stomach, the way your body commands the space around you—it’s thrilling.

But the exhilaration is fleeting, tempered by the physicality of the task. Sweat beads on your brow, trickling down the sides of your face. Your breaths come in shallow gasps, the weight of your chest making it difficult to inhale fully.

You glance at the bathroom door, now only a few feet away, and push yourself forward. You’re relieved when you finally reach your destination, only to be stopped by the door frame. Your width makes it impossible to enter the way you’re used to. The solid wood is unyielding against the expansiveness of your sides, halting your progress fully. You try again, unable to immediately comprehend how you could be so big as to not fit. You shift your weight experimentally, trying to maneuver through, but it’s no use, the doorway is too narrow for you to pass straight on.

Frustration flares as you assess the opening. Turning diagonally, you angle yourself to one side, hoping for just enough space to slip through. Your shoulder bumps awkwardly against the edge, while your belly brushes against the opposite side, compressing slightly as you push forward. Your hips catch next, the fat on them refusing to slide through easily. You twist, turn, tug, and tuck your fat in places, the effort sending tremors through your legs as they struggle to steady your bulk. The friction of the frame digs into your flesh, not painfully but persistently, resisting every attempt to move forward. Your arms flail for a moment, grasping at the walls for leverage, but they’re too weak to pull you through. A soft groan escapes your lips as you pause, catching your breath.

Determined, you adjust again, this time fully turning sideways. Your belly juts forward, pressing against the frame at the same time as the swell of your back, forcing you to squeeze and shimmy to make any progress. You suck in as much air as your expansive body will allow, your sides compressing further as you begin to shuffle inch by inch. Your movements are slow, deliberate, each shift of your weight making the frame creak faintly under the strain.

You push forward one final time, and with a soft muted flump, your body slips free. Stumbling into the bathroom, you grip the edge of the sink for support, your arms trembling as they take your weight. Relief washes over you, but it’s short-lived as you glance back at the narrow doorway, your chest rising and falling heavily. You try not to think about how much harder it will be to get back out.