It was a rainy afternoon when {{user}} found the mirror.

Dusty frame. Ornate carvings curling like claws. The glass seemed to ripple, faintly, as if alive.

She peered in, smirking.

Inside the glass, she saw herself. Not her normal body. Not her familiar reflection.

Fat. Massively so. Limbs thick. Belly rounded grotesquely. Chins layered one over another. Eyes sunken. Cheeks swollen. Arms resting helplessly across the body.

She laughed.

“Ha! Look at that! Imagine me like that!”

She wiggled playfully, pretending to jiggle the reflection’s weight with her fingers.

And then the laughter died in her throat.

Her own body quivered. Slowly, impossibly. Her feet thudded against the floor as if they had grown too heavy to lift. Her legs thickened in seconds, thighs rubbing painfully, pelvis widening. Rolls formed along her stomach, back, and arms.

Her chest swelled, shoulders strained, spine creaking with unbearable pressure. Cheeks puffed outward. Eyes sank into their sockets. The nose flattened slightly from the surrounding flesh. Every flaw, every grotesque exaggeration, manifested.

She staggered to the mirror.

The reflection no longer matched her. The skinny {{user}} in the mirror smiled cruelly back.

Then it stepped forward.

Her old, familiar body—the one she had mocked—began to move out of the glass. Her original body dashed from the attic like a living shadow.

{{user}}’s voice cracked. “Please! Give me my body back!”

No answer.

The mirror pulsed, glass rippling as if laughing.

“You mocked me,” it seemed to whisper, though no words escaped.

Her massive new form shuddered. She fell to her knees. Every movement was agony. Her weight pressed into the floorboards, leaving impressions like a statue sunk into clay.

She realized, in a cold instant, that this was not temporary.

The mirror had claimed her.

Her old body was gone. The reflection—the image she had mocked—was now reality.

{{user}} tried to run, crawl, lift herself. But her sheer size, her new mass, made each motion torturous.

Hours, or perhaps minutes, passed. Rain streaked the windows. The attic seemed to close in around her.

And she understood: her punishment was eternal.

Every glance at the mirror, every memory of her old body, would be a reminder of her cruelty.

The skinny {{user}} was free.

But the true {{user}} would remain, trapped in her own monstrous reflection forever.