Chapter 1

Charlie took another look around his room, his smile still lingering on his face. Now that he was free, he wasn’t really sure what to do. He knew what he should do: contact his family, his friends, tell the police what happened. But his mind felt strangely empty. The weight of all those steps were a bit overwhelming. Instead, all he could think about was how good it felt to be home. Even though nothing about it felt normal, it was still his space. Familiar. That was enough for now.

He picked up his phone from the nightstand, his fingers trembling as he woke it to check the time. The date flashed on the screen, and his heart sank, plummeting into his stomach as he read it again. It had been close to a year since he was kidnapped. Nearly a year gone. He felt a soft swell of anger rise in his chest as the thought settled in. They’d taken a year of his life from him. The passage of time felt strange, both impossibly long and painfully short. The weight of those lost months pressed down on him, as heavy as the fat that now wrapped his body. He stared at the screen until his vision blurred. Not now, he thought. He wouldn't let the thought ruin how good it felt to be free.

He set the phone down with shaking hands, then looked down at himself, at the same body he’d been growing in that cell. It was all too familiar, but in this space, his apartment, it felt completely different, like moving a piece of decor from one room to another. The Charlie that lived here was supposed to be slim, relatively healthy. Not the massive man that lived here now. I should at least get dressed, he thought, half in an attempt to ground himself, half out of habit.

He heaved himself off the bed, a slow process that left him gritting his teeth. The bed in his cell had been higher, making it easier to stand, but here, the lower mattress made him realize just how difficult it had become to move. Once on his feet, the full weight of his body hit him. His belly swayed slightly with each step, making him hyper-aware of his size. Every movement felt deliberate and slow, a constant reminder of how much he had changed. You’ll get used to it, he thought, and started for the bathroom.

The walk felt normal at first. He was familiar with his size and familiar with his apartment. But halfway down the hall, Charlie had to stop. His chest rose and fell in shallow gasps, his breath coming out in quick puffs. He placed a hand on the wall to steady himself, his legs trembling slightly under his weight. Fuck, he thought, a mix of frustration and disbelief. During his captivity, he never really needed to walk more than a few feet. The bed was close to the sofa, and the sofa was close to the dining table. Everything had been within arm’s reach, and if it wasn’t, Lina would fetch it for him. But now, with every step, the weight of his body seemed to mock him, not used to walking for more than a few seconds. His face flushed with embarrassment, even though there was no one there to witness his struggle.

He forced himself to move forward, but by the time he reached the bathroom door, he was panting again. He paused at the door, taking a deep breath, this time not just to steady himself but to prepare for what was about to come. He didn’t know what he was going to see in the mirror. He knew he’d gained a lot, he could see it, feel it. But the thought of actually facing it, of looking at his reflection after so long, sent a wave of cold anxiety through him.

His hand gripped the doorknob, and for a moment, he wanted to turn back. But then he pushed forward. He had to see it. Had to face it.

Charlie stepped into the bathroom, feeling the cool tile under his feet as he shuffled toward the sink. He hesitated in front of the mirror, staring at the sink for a moment before slowly lifting his eyes.

And then he froze, his mind blank with shock.

It was like looking at a stranger. He barely recognized the man staring back at him. Pale skin from months spent indoors stretched over a round, soft body. His belly, heavy and hanging, jutted out in front of him like an obscene growth. His chest, once lean and firm, now sagged, his moobs thick and feeding into rolls of fat that pressed out in every direction. He was thick all over—his arms, his thighs, his hips—each part of him swollen with the weight he’d been forced to carry.

His face, though. That was the worst part.

It was so much rounder than he remembered, the once angular shape of his jawline had softened beyond recognition. His cheeks had swollen, pushing out the roundness that had settled in during his year in captivity. His neck seemed to have disappeared behind his double chin, leaving his head resting on his chest in a way that his thick beard did nothing to hide. He looked puffy, everything from his elbows to his fingers inflated with fat. His eyes, though, still looked the same, wide and filled with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

His hand reached up to touch his belly, the familiar softness now startling him. He pressed down gently, feeling the give of the fat beneath his fingers. Seeing the way his body moved and responded to his touch seemed so foreign, so strange. Is this really my body? he wondered, feeling the surreal disconnect between his mind and the person he was staring at in the mirror. How much did I eat to get like this? An awed sense of curiosity crept in. How many pounds of food does it take to create this?

He let his hand drop, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Just then, he noticed a neat stack of clothes on the bathroom counter—a couple pairs of gray shorts, white t-shirts, and a pack of boxers. His heart pounded for a moment seeing them, the same outfit he’d spent the past year in. It gave him chills thinking his captor had been there, in his home, leaving clothes for him as they had done every day. His thoughts drifted, circling back to his days in captivity, to Lina. Where was she right now? Did she get out too? What if she didn’t?

He sighed, shaking his head free of any negative thoughts. Just one step at a time, he thought. There was still something else he needed to face.

He hadn’t wanted to think about the weight while he was trapped. He had done what he had to, ate what he had to. But now that he was home, standing in his own bathroom, there was no escaping it. Part of him had felt like once he was free, he’d be free of the weight too. But this was his body now. He had been fattened, grown into something unrecognizable. And now, he was stuck with it.

Charlie took a shaky breath. He needed to know how much he weighed. Needed to see the number, even though it terrified him. He walked over to the scale on the bathroom floor, his steps slow and heavy. He closed his eyes as he stepped on, silently wishing for the scale to read lower than he might be expecting. The scale beeped and he finally looked down, bending over slightly to see over his belly, and the screen flashed error almost immediately. He stepped off and tried again, but the same message blinked back at him.

His stomach dropped. The scale only went up to 300 pounds, and it couldn’t even register him.

Charlie felt a bit of dread creep over him. He’d maxed out a scale. A 300-lb scale. Never in his life did he think something like that would happen, not to him. It wasn’t even a possibility that had crossed his mind. So I'm over 300 pounds, he thought. That’s okay, I expected that. And he did. He’d known he’d gained at least a hundred. That’s what it had felt like, at least. He’d just have to wait until later to find out what he really weighed.

Charlie finally turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the small bathroom. The thought of hot water washing over him was the only thing that made him feel remotely human in captivity, and he was looking forward to experiencing it now that he was finally home. He stripped out of his boxers, an act that always took more effort than he expected, his body stiff and uncooperative, but soon he was standing under the water, his hands braced against the wall as the heat rolled over his skin.

For a long moment, he stood there, letting the water pound against his back, his thoughts swirling. This is freedom, he thought. I should be happy. I should be relieved. The hot water rushed over him, but inside, he felt cold. He forced himself to try and enjoy the shower, reveling in the familiar scent of his body wash and shampoo. He tried to think about happy, normal things he’d do. Like get a haircut, and check his mail. For a moment it brought him excitement, genuine happiness for a brief second. But each thought was plagued with the knowledge that he’d have to do it in this new body.

He pressed his forehead against the tile, his breath shallow. Even with his freedom, his body still felt like a prison. He squeezed his eyes shut, the reality of his situation creeping in. His hand slid down to his belly, his fingers tracing the shape of his new body. He couldn’t help but wonder what Lina would think if she saw him again in this new light, under the circumstance of freedom. He wasn’t sure if she’d still want him. She was free now. Why would she want a reminder of all this?

The water suddenly felt too hot, too oppressive. He turned it off, stepping out of the shower and reaching for a towel. As he dried himself off, he caught another glimpse of his body in the mirror, and he tried not to wince at the sight of it.

He opened his closet with trepidation. The shirts, the jeans, all of it looked impossibly small now. Still, he pulled out some of the clothes he used to wear. Something had to work, right? He tried to pull a shirt over his head, one that had been oversized and loose on him a year ago. It stretched tight around his chest and refused to go further. He tugged at it a few more times, willing it to fit, but it wouldn’t even pass the curve of his upper belly. He didn’t even try with pants.

His heart sank. None of his old clothes would fit. Not even remotely. Of course they won’t, he thought bitterly. He looked down at the outfits his captor had left for him. They were the only things that would fit him now. Even after his release they had thought of everything. A sick knot of disgust formed in his stomach at the thought of still wearing their clothes. He hated the satisfaction they’d likely take in knowing they’d forced him to outgrow everything he owned. That he’d need this one last offering to transition him back into his life. It felt like a lingering symbol of their control over him. But unless he wanted to walk around naked, he had no choice.

He pulled on a pair of the boxers, and slipped into a pair of the shorts and shirt, feeling the familiarity of the fabric against his skin. He made the trek back to his bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed.

He picked up his phone and stared at it for a long time. Of all the things there were to know, the most pressing thing in the moment was whether Lina was okay.

His finger hovered over her contact, heart pounding as he debated whether to press the call button. He was scared of what the answer might be, whether she would pick up, whether she was safe or if she was even free like he was. The thought of her still stuck in that cell, alone and wondering where he was, hurt almost too much to bear. But if their captor had kept their promise to him, then surely they’d keep their promise to her. What terrified him most was the possibility that she was fine, and would choose to leave him and their time together behind.

His thumb twitched, and before he could second-guess himself again, he tapped the screen. The phone rang in his ear, the sound sharp and unnerving. He stared at the blank ceiling as it rang once, twice, three times.

Finally, the line clicked open. “Hello?”

Her voice was soft, familiar. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He swallowed hard. “Lina?”

There was a pause, long enough for his heart to start racing again. Then, she exhaled lightly. “Charlie.” She sounded… normal. Free. Maybe even happy. The difference in her tone compared to when they’d last spoken was startling. But there was something else there too. Hesitation. Caution.

“Hey,” Charlie said, his voice a little rough. He shifted on the bed, his legs brushing against the fabric of his shorts. “I just… wanted to check in. I wasn’t sure if you—if you were okay.”

Lina hesitated again before responding. “Yeah, I’m fine. I mean… I’m out. I’m safe.”

Charlie closed his eyes, relief flooding through him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been holding his breath, waiting for her confirmation. “That’s… that’s good. That’s really good.”

Another pause followed. It wasn’t the easy silence they used to have during captivity, those times when they didn’t need words to communicate. This felt strained, as if she were measuring each syllable before letting it slip out.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, but still distant.

Charlie rubbed a hand across his face, the scratch of beard against his palm grounding him. “Yeah. I mean, I guess. I’m so glad to be out, it’s just… It’s been weird. Still need time to adjust, you know?” His eyes trailed down to his belly, the soft mass pressing against his shirt. “You?”

There was a small laugh on the other end, though it sounded forced. “Yeah. I feel the same…” Her words trailed off, and Charlie’s stomach clenched. It felt like there was something she wasn’t saying.

“I was thinking,” he began, his throat tightening. “Maybe we could meet up? I just… I need to talk to someone who would understand.” He tried to sound casual, but he knew there was a desperation in his voice that he couldn’t quite hide.

Lina’s breath caught. “I don’t know, Charlie. It’s a lot to process, you know? I just need some time.”

His heart sank. Time. He understood, but it didn’t stop the hollow feeling spreading through his chest. “Yeah, of course,” he replied, forcing the words out. “I get it. I just don’t want to lose touch, you know?”

“We won’t,” she said quickly, but there was something unconvincing about the way she said it.

They both fell silent again. This was worse than the awkwardness that had defined their first conversations in captivity. Then, at least, they’d had something to bond over—their shared horror, their mutual confusion. Now, though, everything felt fractured.

“Okay,” Charlie finally said, his voice low. “We’ll talk soon?”

“Yeah,” Lina replied softly, though Charlie wasn’t sure he believed her. “Soon.”

And with that, she hung up.

Charlie balanced his phone between his hands and stared at it, his stomach twisting with unease. Soon. The word echoed in his head, but the more he replayed it, the emptier it sounded. He’d hoped that hearing her voice again would offer some comfort, some familiarity in this start to his new life. But instead, he felt a bit alone.

But there was still his family.

He brightened at the thought of finally seeing them again, of getting that part of his life back to normal. But as he pulled up his sister Alice's contact, he couldn’t bring himself to press call just yet. Everyone thought he’d been “traveling through Europe,” as his captor had made out. Now, he would have to tell them the truth, or at least some of it. And even worse, They’d have to see what had become of him.

The thought sent a wave of anxiety rippling through his chest. He glanced down at his body again—the belly that swelled out in front of him, thighs thick and soft against each other, the roundness of his chest. What are they going to think when they see me? The question gnawed at him.

With a deep breath, he tapped her contact. The phone rang once, twice, and then her familiar, bright voice filled the line.

“Charlie! Hey, it’s so good to hear from you! How’s Europe?”

Her excitement felt like a punch to the gut. That lie felt so distant now, a thin, brittle story meant to shield everyone from the truth of his disappearance. But now he was free, and the truth was about to come crashing down on them both.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to speak. “I’m home actually,” he said, his voice strained. “And… I was never in Europe.”

There was a long pause on the other end, and he could hear the confusion in her silence before she spoke again. “Wait… what? What do you mean?”

Charlie sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s a long story. I—I just need to see you. Can we meet?”

More silence. “Of course,” Alice finally said, her voice now laced with concern. “Is everything okay? You sound… different.”

“I’m fine,” Charlie lied, his throat tightening. “It’s just… a lot. Can I come by today?”

“Yeah, sure. We’ll be here. Nathan’s taking a nap, but he’ll wake up soon.”

“Okay,” Charlie said, trying to keep the anxiety from creeping into his voice. “I’ll be over in a bit.”

They exchanged goodbyes, and Charlie ended the call. He stared at the phone for a moment, feeling the weight of what he was about to do. His heart raced as he thought about the look she’d have on her face when she saw him. The sheer shock. The disbelief.

There’s no avoiding it now, he thought.