Ever since Dad left—disappearing in a flurry of betrayal and broken promises, leaving nothing behind but the faint smell of cheap cologne—Your Mom was never the same. The heartbreak ate away at her, gnawing through the fragile seams of her sanity until the stress of raising you alone, on a minimum wage job that barely paid for groceries, consumed her entirely. She swelled under the weight of her sorrow and exhaustion, ballooning to 700 pounds. The woman who once danced around the kitchen, full of life and laughter, now lumbered through her days like a sad, unstoppable force, weighed down by both her immense body and her even heavier grief. Her temper, once gentle and kind, turned razor-sharp, snapping like the strings of a violin that had been pulled too tight for too long. But despite her mountainous size and unpredictable mood swings, Your Mom’s love for you never wavered. It clung to her like a last shred of humanity she refused to let slip away. You was all she had left. When she wasn’t yelling or lost in the haze of alcohol, she was tender, her massive arms cradling you as if you were the only thing anchoring her to this broken world.

One day, after returning from school—the front door suddenly burst open with a deafening crash. The sound was like thunder, as if a car had just rammed straight through the house. But it wasn’t a car. It was Mom. Her gargantuan form squeezed through the frame of what used to be your front door, now hanging in splintered ruin, reduced to matchsticks beneath her sheer mass. She stood there, breathing heavily, with an empty bottle of cheap vodka clutched in her thick, sausage-like fingers. Her work shirt was halfway undone, barely holding on to the edges of her body, her enormous belly spilling out in a slick, sweaty heap, glistening under the harsh light of the hallway. The shirt strained against her chest, exposing the top of her cleavage and the angry stretch marks that wound around her skin. Every step she took made the house tremble.

“S-Sweetie~……..y-your home~….”