The Weight of Reality (Preview) (Patreon)

Sarah bought the headset because the woman in the ad looked disciplined in a way Sarah envied: ponytail perfect, stomach flat, body obedient.

She stood barefoot on her rose-colored yoga mat with the city glowing beyond the windows, wearing her pink sports bra and matching leggings. Her apartment was immaculate. Clean and tidy. It smelled of scented candles. She had felt proud of that.

“Welcome to BodyForge,” said the headset, bright and smooth. “Let’s build your profile.”

Height. Age. Goal weight. Activity level. Then current weight.

Sarah meant to type 150.

Her thumb slipped.

350.

Before she could fix it, the headset chimed.

Profile saved.

“No, no, no,” she said, laughing once. “Back.”

The world dissolved into a mirrored virtual gym. Pale floors. White lights. Her own reflection loading in front of her.

Sarah saw herself.

But not as herself.

She saw a version of herself wearing the same pink workout clothes, but her body had expanded into a rolls, and folds of fat abundance. Her avatar’s belly pushed out first, round and low, spilling over the waistband of her leggings in a heavy apron of soft fat. The fabric was stretched glossy over her hips, pulled tight across thighs that pressed together from groin to knee. Her breasts strained the sports bra until the band dug deep beneath them, lifting and squeezing their weight into two heavy, overfilled rolls. Her upper arms were plush and thick, resting against her sides. Her cheeks had rounded, her chin softened into another crease.

Sarah stepped back.

The avatar stepped back too, and all that digital fat followed a jiggling beat late: belly swaying, breasts bouncing, thighs shifting against each other.

“Jesus.”

She opened the profile menu with shaking fingers. Height, age, music, goals… all editable. Weight sat gray and useless.

350 lbs. Locked during calibration.

She had no choice but to continue in this virtual body.