Chapter 1: The Weight of Support

Welcome to Chunky Chapters, you can watch this story as a Audio-Visual- Novel on YouTube! I will release an Episode and new chapters every Sunday!

Episode 1 & 2 are out now!

https://www.youtube.com/@ChunkyChapter s

My stories is where transformation and desire come to life! I'm Miss Chapters, your storyteller, weaving tales of extraordinary weight gain and indulgence.

Exciting news: for every ten new subscribers we gain each week, I will personally add one pound to my frame. Watch as my body grows softer and rounder with each new episode, adding a unique touch to our journey together.

This story follows Emily, a star athlete whose disciplined life is upended by a curse. Each encounter with Steven brings dramatic changes to her body. Watch Emily's shock and struggle as she transforms from fit to fat. How will she cope with her new reality?

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I’ ve always found solace in the rhythmic pounding of my feet against the pavement, the way the world seemed to fall into sync with each step. At 1.70 meters and a lean 50 kilograms, my body was a testament to years of discipline and dedication. Every medal on my shelf told a story of perseverance and triumph, a silent witness to the countless hours I spent training for marathons and perfecting gymnastics routines. Yet, despite my accolades, my life often felt like it was stuck on repeat.
By day, I worked as a medical assistant, immersed in the monotony of patient files and medical records. The clinical atmosphere, with its antiseptic smell and the hum of fluorescent lights, was a stark contrast to the vibrant energy I craved. The highlight of my week was the evenings spent at the fitness studio with my friends—a sanctuary where the air was filled with the sounds of exertion and camaraderie.
Our group was a tapestry of dedication, each one of us striving for personal bests and new milestones. Except for Sarah. Sarah stood out, not just because she was morbidly obese, but because she had the courage to be there, surrounded by people who often didn’t understand her struggle. The others, unfortunately, masked their discomfort with cruel jokes and whispered comments, their laughter echoing off the studio walls.
That rainy evening, the studio's usual bright lights seemed dimmed by the storm outside. Water streaked the large windows, distorting the view of the world beyond, much like the way my friends distorted their perception of Sarah. The usual banter began, the same hurtful remarks that had become a bitter routine. I glanced at Sarah, her shoulders hunched as she absorbed each jab, her eyes reflecting a pain I knew all too well. It was then that something inside me snapped.
“That’s enough,” I said, my voice cutting through the laughter like a blade. The room fell silent, my friends staring at me in shock. I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of my words. “We’re here to support each other, not tear each other down.”
Sarah looked up at me, surprise and gratitude flickering across her face. I offered her a small, encouraging smile. “Sarah, let’s start your workout. You’re here, and that’s what matters.”
From that day on, I made it my mission to help Sarah. We started slow, with light exercises and short walks. Each small victory—an extra minute on the treadmill, a few pounds lost—was a cause for celebration. I watched as Sarah’s confidence grew with each passing day, her spirit lifting alongside her physical transformation.
Our dynamic changed as well. My friends, shamed by their previous behavior and inspired by Sarah’s progress, began to offer their own encouragement. The studio, once a place of judgment, became a haven of support.
Months passed, and the day Sarah completed her first 5K run arrived. The morning was crisp, the air charged with anticipation. As Sarah crossed the finish line, her face lit up with a mixture of exhaustion and triumph, I cheered the loudest, my heart swelling with pride.
In that moment, I realized that true strength wasn’t just about physical prowess. It was about lifting others up, believing in their potential when they couldn’t see it themselves.