i took private violin lessons when i was a young teenager, and my teacher was pretty damn fat. i'd say maybe around like 400-450 lbs, and way shorter than me, (and i'm pretty short at 5'7") maybe like 5 feet or 5'1". she pretty much had a fairly even distribution, but i remember mostly her belly. it didn't have 2 rolls, it was just big and kinda round, like jutting out. obviously her ass was big too. she was white, looked italian and definitely was, from her name. she had slightly thick eyebrows and thinner lips. her hair was brown, average length, usually in a bun, kind of greasy---she was italian after all. she usually wore these thin white tank tops without a bra and mostly sweatpants. i remember vividly a specific pair that was pink. the room we were in was wicked small, so when she or i would go take out our violins from our cases, we'd sometimes bump into each other. and when she'd play, she would be forced so close to me that her arm would rub against mine when she moved her bow. i seriously cannot stress enough how tiny this room was. i mean, i was rubbing against this woman basically the whole 45 minutes, every single lesson. there's another layer though: i was with her for like 3 or 4 years, and in that time, she had to have gained at least like 100 lbs or something like that. maybe i'm inflating the proportions in my mind, it has been a decade at this point. but i swear to god she went from like bbw to ssbbw during those years. and it wasn't a mystery why, she would have snacks between lessons and during mine. so yeah, i was living in a weight gain fic. in my wildest dreams, i sometimes like to imagine she never caught a single boner of mine. but uhhh yk how it is and idk how the fuck to use ai, or where, but if someone wants to try to make a prompt outta this, go for it.

When I was around 13 years old, I had a dental checkup, and I had my teeth cleaned by a very sweet, very pretty hygienist who looked roughly like the woman on the left. She was probably 33 at the most. About a year-and-a-half later, I went back to get an old filling restored. That time, the prep work before my procedure was done by a much older, frumpier hygienist who must've been in her early 50s. However, a much younger, much more voluptuous, and heavily pregnant hygienist donning a face mask would frequently come in and out of our subdivision to borrow supplies and ask an odd question of the dentist. Being a small practice without proper rooms, instead composed of 4 spaces divided by ¾-height walls, we were packed in pretty tight. There simply wasn't enough room for myself, the massive dental chair, the older hygienist, the dentist, and now this massive young woman who had to wade past everyone to get some supplies out of a cabinet that almost lay at my feet. I wasn't complaining though—that's an excellent problem to have. The way she waddled, the sight of her massive, round, firm stomach pressed tightly against her scrubs, the way her pants wedged into her plump, round ass—for a young teen who'd recently discovered he was a chubby chaser, this was heaven. In my mesmerization, I was completely distracted from the light drilling occurring in my mouth. Then "Killing Me Softly" by The Fugees began to play on the sound system and she began to sing along, and right then, a peculiar idea struck me: could that mountain of a woman be the very same that cleaned my teeth the year before? Was it possible that underneath the blubbery arms, full bust, bulbous ass, pregnant belly, and face mask was the sweet, gentle, thin, beautiful woman who performed my dental cleaning the year prior? She had the same reddish-brown hair color and fair skin, after all. What are the odds that such a small dental practice could employ two women with such similar features, but drastically different builds? I mean, down to the exact same voice? The odds would be astronomical, but to this day, I choose to believe it was in fact the same woman.

I did my best to recreate the supposed transformation of a former science teacher from my freshman year of high school. One day, while visiting the school website, I felt kind of nosey and took a look at the staff directory. I stumbled across Ms. Laurie, my endearing, obese middle aged science teacher. I clicked on her name and when the page loaded, my jaw dropped. There was her portrait—with the same cute, cherubic face and rosy cheeks, but sat upon a long, slender neck! Complemented by narrow shoulders and thin arms, no less! I couldn't believe my eyes, but I wasn't entirely clueless about how it could've happened. She threw us a few parties that year, and each time, she brought a wide assortment of pastries, sodas, and junk food. She obviously had a sweet tooth, and it ultimately cost her that tiny, enviable figure. I've always had a bit of a neck fetish that kind of interfered with my fat fetish, so the neck-fetishist in me lamented the loss of her long, slender neck, but the fat-fetishist in me relished in it. I was quivering in my seat just thinking about the healthy double-chin and ample bosom she was sporting at the time. The thought of that thin, youthful face now buried under an extra—what, 70-80 pounds? Those long, thin arms, now ripened with blubber... oh man. It was an absolutely mind-blowing transformation that I wish I could've seen first-hand—of course, I would've had to have been born 7 years earlier... and flunked freshman year a few times.