Maybe It's Not So Bad - Plus Sized Reader

One

(I don't even know where I'm going with this, but it was stuck in my head and here we are.
Who knows if it'll even go further than this.)

I stared into the mirror in horror, my throat beginning to ache as my eyes started to water.

This couldn't be happening.

Of all curses I could have been hit with, it had to be this one.

How was I going to face the Winchesters now?

The horrified looks on their faces crossed my mind and made my bottom lip begin to quiver as I ran my hands over myself as if I could somehow just brush away the rounded stomach, wide hips and rolls that were accentuated by the now too-tight tank top and shorts I had gone to bed in the night before.

I wasn't entirely sure why I was so worried about their reactions, the brothers were typically rather accepting of all kinds and yet, the thought of facing them as a heavy woman made my adrenaline spike with nerves and my stomach feel like it was full of lead.

They were accepting, but I'd never really considered their reaction to plus sized people.

I'd never had to before.

Prodding at my pudgier cheeks, my mind filters in horrible comments they could make as tears roll down my face.

The tips of my fingers poke and prod down my cheeks to my chin and I soon find myself sobbing.

All the years I had worked so hard to lose what I had lost as a teen and now, thanks to a bitch of a spellcaster, I was back to square one.

It was a stupid reaction logically, I could find a way to break this curse, it's what we did, but in the moment, I felt nothing but hopeless, sick and exhausted as the torment of my teen years flashed back to me.

The few comments here and there that had stuck with me, the hardcore dieting which had led me to the strict dietary habits I still had to this day, the exercising when my body was past the point of it being healthy and it became more obsessive.

All to lead up to this point where I was reverted back, as if I hadn't pushed myself ridiculously, unhealthily even.

Who had even heard of a fat hunter anyway?

A sob finally breaks out and I covered my mouth, stepping away from the mirror to rush out of the bathroom and find something to cover my stomach and flabbier arms.

Not that I was likely to find anything that'd fit comfortably in my duffel.

I'd be lucky if anything was 'a little tight' at best.

Dropping to the floor beside my bed, I hastily pull out my bag from underneath while taking deep, shuddering breaths to try and calm down my embarrassing crying.

Ripping the bag open, I desperately pull out everything in hopes of finding something that would at least fit well enough to cover until I could go into town and buy some cheap temporary outfits.

Finally, I managed to find the leggings that I knew were inside.

With a little, sobbed laugh of triumph, I stand up and push my way out of the shorts and underwear I was wearing before tugging on the leggings and wiggling them up to my hips.

Once I let go on the waistband, I found that I had to pull them to sit above my hips rather than around them as they dug in too tightly and podged my stomach over the top uncomfortably.

I was also quick to notice just how much I was going to need some new unmentionables, sure, I had gone commando before but with leggings this tight? There was no way I could even dream of pulling it off for too long in these things.