Tanaka Hiroshi was the kind of guy whose name everyone in class knew, but never for a good reason.
He was nineteen, finishing his final year at Sakuragaoka High School, and he carried his weight like a curse. One hundred and ten kilograms of soft, pale flesh that made every uniform shirt strain at the buttons and every pair of trousers dig into his belly. His face was round, his cheeks perpetually flushed, and his small eyes always seemed to be looking for the nearest exit. The girls in Class 2-A had turned him into their favorite target months ago.
"Oi, Tanaka-pig! Move your fat ass, you're blocking the whole doorway again!"
That was Miura Aika, the loudest of the group.
Slim, pretty, with dyed light-brown hair and a skirt she rolled up shorter than regulation allowed. She shoved past him hard enough that his shoulder slammed into the doorframe.
Behind her, three more girls giggled.
"Look at him waddle," sneered Kawano Rina, flipping her black ponytail. "Does he even fit through normal doors anymore?"
Tanaka kept his head down, clutching his bag tighter against his chest like a shield. His heart hammered. He could feel the heat crawling up his neck.
Then came the worst part — the trip.
Someone stuck a foot out. He tripped, books and notebooks spilling across the floor in a messy avalanche. Laughter exploded around him.
"Clumsy pig!"
"Watch where you're going, fatty!"
He knelt quickly, fat fingers scrambling to gather his things before anyone could step on them. His glasses had slid down his nose. He hated how his belly rested on his thighs in this position. He hated how everyone could see it.
A soft voice cut through the noise.
"Hey… are you okay?"
Hina.
Takahashi Hina was the only one who ever spoke to him like a human being. She was average height, with straight black hair that fell just past her shoulders and gentle brown eyes that always looked a little worried. Her uniform was neat, skirt at proper length, blouse buttoned all the way up. She crouched beside him and helped pick up his scattered notes, her fingers brushing his for a brief second.
Tanaka felt his face burn hotter. "I-I'm fine," he mumbled, not meeting her eyes.
"You sure? That looked like it hurt." She smiled, small and kind, the kind of smile that made his chest ache in a completely different way than the bullying did. "Here, your math worksheet."
She handed it back. For one precious moment the hallway noise faded.
Miura clicked her tongue from a few steps away.
"Ugh, Hina, why do you even bother with him? You're gonna catch his grossness."
Hina didn't answer them. She just stood up and offered Tanaka a hand. He didn't take it — he was too embarrassed — but he managed to get to his feet on his own, breathing hard.
"Thanks… Hina," he whispered.
She tilted her head, still smiling. "Anytime, Tanaka-kun. Don't let them get to you too much, okay?"
The bell rang. Everyone scattered toward their classrooms. Hina gave him one last encouraging nod before disappearing into the crowd.
The rest of the day dragged. More whispers, more giggles behind hands, more "accidental" bumps in the corridor. By the time the final bell rang, Tanaka's shoulders were slumped so low they almost touched his waist.
He was almost out the gate when the second wave hit.
A group of girls — Miura, Rina, and two others — cornered him near the shoe lockers.
"Tanaka-pig, wait up!" Miura called sweetly, too sweetly. She held up his umbrella, the cheap black one he'd left behind that morning. "You forgot this."
He reached for it.
She yanked it back at the last second and tossed it into a nearby puddle. Muddy water splashed across his trousers.
"Oops," she laughed. "My bad."
Rina stepped closer, wrinkling her nose. "God, you smell like sweat again. Do you even shower?"
Tanaka's hands trembled at his sides. He wanted to say something — anything — but the words always died in his throat. Fat tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He hated himself for it.
"Leave him alone," someone muttered, but no one actually stepped in except Hina, who was already gone.
The girls finally got bored and walked away, laughing among themselves. Tanaka stood there for a long minute, staring at his ruined umbrella floating in the dirty water. Then he bent down, picked it up with shaking fingers, and trudged home.
His apartment was small, quiet, and empty. His parents worked late shifts and barely noticed him anymore. He kicked off his wet shoes, dropped his bag, and collapsed face-first onto his unmade bed.
The tears came immediately.
Why me? Why is it always me? I didn't do anything to them… I just exist and that's enough for them to hate me.
He sobbed into his pillow, shoulders heaving, belly pressed uncomfortably against the mattress. The humiliation burned hotter than ever. Hina's kind face flashed in his mind, but even that hurt — because she was the only one, and he knew he could never be anything more than the fat guy she pitied.
"I wish… I wish I could just disappear," he whispered between sobs. "Or be someone else. Anyone else."
Exhaustion finally won. He cried himself to sleep still fully dressed, tears drying on his round cheeks.
Morning light filtered through the thin curtains.
Tanaka stirred. His body felt… wrong. Lighter.
Softer in places that had never been soft like this. His chest was heavy. His hips ached in a strange, stretched way. Long hair tickled his bare shoulders and neck.
What the… did I roll over onto something?
He blinked, groggy. His hand moved up to push hair out of his face — except the hand that rose into view was small, delicate, with slender fingers and smooth, unblemished skin. No chubby knuckles. No bitten nails.
His breath caught.
He sat up slowly. The movement made two very large, very soft weights on his chest shift and bounce heavily. The sensation was so alien that a startled squeak escaped his throat — and the voice that came out was high, sweet, and unmistakably feminine.
"Ehh?!"
No. No no no. This is a dream. A weird, messed-up dream.
Heart pounding, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. They were long, smooth, toned. His thighs were thick but in an entirely different way — plush, curvaceous, the kind that rubbed together when he moved. His ass felt… enormous. Round and heavy, spreading beneath him as he sat.
He stumbled toward the full-length mirror on the back of his closet door, bare feet padding silently. Every step made his new hips sway. His chest jiggled. Long, silky black hair cascaded down his back, smelling faintly of shampoo he didn't remember using.
He stopped in front of the mirror.
The girl staring back was breathtaking.
She — he — had a face like a model from a gravure magazine: large, sparkling hazel eyes framed by thick lashes, full pink lips slightly parted in shock, flawless porcelain skin with a natural blush across high cheekbones. Her neck was slender, leading down to an hourglass figure that defied belief. Massive, perfectly round breasts strained against the torn remains of his old oversized t-shirt, the fabric ripped at the seams from the sudden change in proportions. The hem barely covered the underside of her tits, exposing a toned yet soft midriff and the dramatic flare of wide, child-bearing hips. Below that, a tiny pair of boyshorts clung desperately to an ass so fat and perky it looked photoshopped — two smooth, heart-shaped globes that jiggled with the slightest movement.
She turned slightly. The profile view was lethal: breasts projecting forward like ripe melons, waist cinched impossibly small, then exploding outward into that shelf of an ass and thick, juicy thighs.
Tanaka's — no, the girl's — mouth fell open.
Holy shit… that's me? That's… me?!
A trembling hand rose. Delicate fingers cupped one heavy breast through the shredded shirt.
The flesh was warm, impossibly soft yet firm, the nipple tightening instantly under the touch.
A jolt of unfamiliar pleasure shot straight between her legs.
"Ah…!" The moan that slipped out was breathy and feminine.
This can't be real. I'm dreaming. I fell asleep crying and now I'm hallucinating the body I always secretly jerked off to in my head. Any second I'll wake up fat again and this will be over.
But the mirror didn't lie. She pinched her own cheek — it hurt. She turned again, watching the way her ass cheeks wobbled and settled, how her breasts swayed heavily with the motion. Between her thighs she could feel a smooth, hairless slit where something very different used to be. It felt warm. Sensitive. Empty in a way that made her knees weak.
She stumbled back until her calves hit the bed and sat down hard. The impact sent another ripple through her chest and rear.
What do I do? What the fuck do I do?! School… my parents… everyone knows me as Tanaka. If I go out like this they'll think I'm some crazy cosplayer or… or…
Her new voice cracked when she tried to speak.
"I… I'm a girl now?" It came out as a soft, melodic whisper, nothing like his old nasally tone. "This isn't happening… I can't… I can't go outside like this…"
She hugged her arms around herself — which only pressed her massive breasts together, creating deep, inviting cleavage that made her blush furiously.
Everyone who bullied me… Miura, Rina… they're going to see this body. Hina too. And the guys…
A confusing mix of terror and something darker, hotter, stirred low in her belly.
She stared at the stunning girl in the mirror — at Shiori, even if she didn't know that name yet — and whispered again, voice trembling.
"What… what am I supposed to do now?"