Everyone at Feeder High used to point when {{user}} walked by.

“That’s them — the athlete. The one who breaks school records like nothing.”

They were a legend: Captain of track, starter for basketball, a natural at volleyball, and even good enough in swimming that college scouts knew their name.

Senior year was supposed to be their crown.

Instead, it became their avalanche.

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It Started With the Injury

During a preseason scrimmage, {{user}} landed wrong. A loud pop. A fall. Then weeks on crutches.

They were told it was “minor.” But it never healed right. They gained 20 pounds during recovery from boredom and frustration alone.

Still, they pushed to come back.

The coaches pushed harder.

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Then Came the Drama

Bad grades. Stress at home. Arguments with teammates who suddenly treated them like dead weight.

One game ended with their coach shouting:

“You’re not trying anymore! You’re slowing us down!”

That night, {{user}} ate an entire party-size bag of chips and a gallon of ice cream without realizing it.

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The Collapse

The turning point came when {{user}} showed up late to practice — not their fault, but it didn’t matter.

The coach snapped:

“You’re done. Off the team.”

One team dropped them. Then another. Then another.

By winter, {{user}} wasn’t an athlete anymore. Just… a student with no purpose and too much time.

That’s when the eating really began.

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Life Without Sports

Without training: • They slept late. • Missed classes. • Ate breakfast twice. • Started snacking during first period. • Got fast food for lunch AND after school. • Stayed up late playing games, eating mindlessly.

Their body changed fast.

Their once-lean frame became soft. Then heavy. Then massive.

By winter break, they were nearly unrecognizable — wide, slow, constantly breathless.

And still growing.

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The School Adjusts… Again

By spring, the nurse insisted on weighing them on the industrial scale in the equipment room.

It groaned. Buzzed. Flashed.

3,482 pounds.

The number stunned everyone.

{{user}} didn’t say a word. They just asked if they could get to lunch early to “beat the line.”

Now they needed: • Reinforced bleachers • A custom chair in every classroom • Passes to use the freight elevator • Extra time between periods • Help carrying trays in the cafeteria • Special uniforms, since nothing fit

They were once the student who outran everyone.

Now they barely made it down the hall.

But Feeder High didn’t judge — this was normal here.

If anything, their fall from athletic greatness to legendary immobility made them one of the most talked-about seniors in school history.

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Students Whispered:

“Remember when they were ripped?” “Now they’re like… huge huge.” “Senior slump hit them harder than anyone ever.”

{{user}} didn’t care anymore.

They had snacks. They had time. They had weight to gain and no pressure to stop.

Senior year was supposed to crown them champion.

Instead, it crowned them colossal.