Oneshot - I'm fat now, damn it

Cassidy stood in her small kitchen bathed in sunlight, the rays softly caressing the exaggerated curves of her body. She had grown accustomed to seeing herself this way, gigantic, imposing, as if every part of her had become a symbol of her devotion. Wrapped in her yellow sweater, which struggled to cover her form, she could feel the fabric stretch with each movement, every breath a reminder of the love that had once made her surrender herself completely.

She had thought that this transformation, this abundance of flesh, was for him. She thought that her wide hips, swollen thighs, and massive backside—enough to fill the room when she turned—were exactly what he desired. Every pound she gained had been an act of love, each bite a silent promise, as if by becoming more, she would finally be enough.

But he had seen her like this, larger than ever, and his gaze hadn’t been what she’d expected. Cassidy remembered his gentle words, his hand softly caressing her face, as if to tell her that no matter her appearance, he loved her for who she was. He had reassured her, told her she was beautiful, but not for the reasons she had believed. Her weight didn’t matter to him, but he hadn’t loved her for this abundance she bore as a gift. A sigh escaped her lips, and a faint cloud of steam lingered in the cool air of the room.

"I thought he’d love me more if I was enormous, but I was wrong," she murmured, her voice tinged with a gentle, bittersweet resignation. "He loves me, no matter my weight. But now, I’ll have to lose all of this… my god."

She ran her hands over her broad hips, contemplating the titanic task that awaited her. Losing every gram felt as monumental as the mountain of flesh she carried. Cassidy leaned against the window ledge, her gaze drifting to the horizon. Her thoughts swirled between the tenderness of Black's words and the literal weight of her decision. He had been so clear, so sincere: she didn’t need this titanic body to prove anything to him. She could feel the affection in his voice, the sincerity in his gaze, but it didn’t lessen the dilemma she faced.

Just standing here in her little kitchen was almost a feat in itself. Her own weight threatened to anchor her in place, making her sway slightly as she shifted her footing. She could hear the wooden floor creak beneath her, each step like a small tremor. Cassidy could lose this weight—each pound shed with almost Herculean effort—but she knew it would take months, maybe even years. Each gram she had gained thinking of Black was there, tangible and massive, a memory embodied in her flesh.

Or, she could choose to keep it. She could make this weight a new part of herself, a presence that would irrevocably alter her daily life. Cassidy imagined the small adaptations that would come with that decision: sturdier furniture, custom-made clothes, curious or mocking glances on the street. She was not part of the Yellow House and therefore did not have any of the powers that allowed them to play with their size at will. Every pound here was here to stay unless she committed to a long and arduous journey to lose it.

In a moment of hesitation mixed with defiance, she spoke to herself softly: "I could keep it… and live with it. Or, every day would be a battle to become who I once was."

A small spark of determination lit her eyes. She knew that, whatever her decision, Black would be by her side. But this weight, this imposing figure that made her stand out—wasn’t it perhaps a part of herself to embrace?

With one last glance out the window, she smiled softly. Whether for the effort or for acceptance, she knew she would have the strength to face it. Cassidy had made her decision. She would lose the weight, but she wouldn’t go back to being who she had been. She knew now that she liked herself with a bit of softness, some warmth in her body, a welcoming shape that felt like it suited her better.

The first days were the hardest. Her body, used to this abundance, struggled to adapt to the transition. Every movement reminded her of the path ahead, each step a calculated effort. Cassidy made a point of staying positive, turning her daily life into a series of small victories: climbing the stairs without getting out of breath, feeling her clothes loosen slightly, each detail becoming an encouragement.

True to his promise, Black was by her side every moment. He encouraged her without ever imposing a pace or a goal. He understood that this journey wasn’t for him, but for her, and that gave her even more strength. Some evenings, he joined her for long walks, where they talked about everything and nothing, memories, future plans, dreams. Sometimes he teased her when he saw that she still clung to certain little pleasures, like the hot chocolate she loved or the fresh muffins she couldn’t resist tasting.

Little by little, her body transformed, finding a shape that, though still generous, allowed her to move more easily, to breathe more freely. She learned to rediscover this body, each new contour becoming an improved version of herself. Cassidy even found herself admiring her reflection in the mirror, chubby, voluptuous, but at peace. She hadn’t sought perfection; she had found a compromise, a way to be at peace with herself.

One evening, as she stood in front of the mirror, she smiled as she ran her hands over her still full hips, now more comfortable. Black approached, wrapped his arms around her tenderly, and murmured in her ear, "I’ve always found you perfect, you know. But now, I see you find yourself too."

She turned to him, her eyes shining, grateful for the journey she had undertaken, not for him, but for herself.