Wii Fit Trainer Gets into Shape.

It was an honour to be invited back, Wii Fit Trainer reminded herself. There were plenty who never made it into Smash at all – Waluigi was still smarting from his exclusion to mention only one – and to be asked to come back for the sequel was a big deal.
There was only one problem.
She was fat.

The party after the last Smash had lasted a week straight, and for the first time in her life she’d let herself really indulge. She’d drunk beer and cocktails every night, gorged gladly on the all-you-can-eat buffet and helped herself to the plates of snacks that never seemed to run dry – and it had been such spectacular fun that, when she finally got home, she couldn’t quite force herself to go back to the daily yoga routines and arduous workouts. She’d made an effort, of course, but more often than not she found herself slouched on the couch after the warm-up, helping herself to an early lunch instead of finishing her routine.
She’d always been close to obsessive about calories and weight, but in the aftermath of Smash she’d forgotten all of that. She ate entire packets of cookies without so much as glancing at the back label and drank full-sugar sodas with nary a shred of remorse; she even started driving to the shops, though they weren’t even ten minutes away down the road.

And, inevitably, she’d put on weight.
She’d barely noticed it at first, just thinking herself a little bloated from the constant indulging and partying, but before long the way her entire body was softening was undeniable. Then, though, she’d dismissed it. So what if she’d put on a little weight? She deserved to indulge a little, and she was the master of weight loss – when the day came that she needed to slim down, she could do it in an instant. Somehow though, she’d ended up postponing that day again and again, until suddenly that letter had come through that door and she’d realised that she may well have left it too late.

She’d been invited back for the latest Smash. The date was set for just a few weeks away, and her body was utterly unready.

Her abs were buried by a pillowy gut that bulged out over the waistband of her strained yoga pants, its flabby bulk sagging slightly beneath its own undeniable weight. Her face was rounded and chubby, the hint of fat at her throat coalescing into a full-on double chin every time she opened her mouth or looked downwards. Her breasts had swollen and softened, so overflowing her outgrown tank-top that they looked as if they would slip free entirely if she leaned even slightly forwards. Her once-muscular arms had grown flabby and toneless, wobbling slightly as she ran her fingers anxiously through hair that hadn’t seen a hairdresser in months. However, by far the worst of the damage had been to her lower half. It seemed almost unimaginable now that she’d had a thigh gap only a few months ago, as now they were thick and quivering with extra fat, forced up against each other by their own bulk all the way down to her dimpled, pudgy knees. Her hips were softened by thick cushions of fat, her hourglass figure now decidedly bottom-heavy as she grew wider and wider. Worst of all, however, was her butt; no longer small but firm, it was now huge and toneless, with a tendency to wobble if she so much as shifted her weight from one foot to the other. It projected out behind her like a shelf, two huge mounds of flab that jostled each other for space within her stretched, nearly-transparent yoga pants.

There was absolutely no way that she could be seen like this. She’d never be able to live it down – the Wii Fit Trainer, fat and out of shape? She’d be a laughing stock. She had to lose weight, and fast.

And so she was here, standing before her familiar old yoga mat, flabby body spilling out of her outgrown exercise gear and trying to remember how her set used to begin. Stretches, maybe? She reached down and touched her toes, scowling at the feeling of her bloated belly pressing against her fat thighs, of her breasts threatening to flop free of their clingy tank-top prison. Well, she could still do that at least. She repeated the motion another few times, then straightened up. Easy. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all?
She continued with a few more basic stretches, almost remembering what she’d once enjoyed about exercise as she worked the kinks out of her muscles. Her back had been aching for weeks, probably the fault of her increasingly overgrown chest, but this finally felt like it might be helping.

She raised one leg and attempted the tree, balancing on one foot as she moved into the pose she’d adopted so many times before. This time it felt completely different though; her raised arms dragged up the hem of the tank top, letting yet more belly flab spill free, and her centre of balance was thrown completely off by her heavy breasts in front of her and her monumental rear behind. She wobbled, swollen body jiggling along with her, before having to hastily abandon the pose as she lose her balance entirely.
She had much more luck with the cobra. Lying down on her front – and trying to ignore the feeling of her fatty stomach and chest pancaking out beneath her as she did so – she slowly raised her upper body, feeling the familiar strain. In the past her belly had been entirely clear of the ground at the apex of the stretch but now it was still brushing the mat, the material cool against her warm, slightly sweaty skin.

Enough messing around, she decided – it was time to do some actual exercise. Yoga was all well and good, but it wasn’t going to help her lose the weight before Smash. It was time to push herself. It was time to do some squats.

The first one was… well, not exactly easy, but doable. She felt the muscles in her thighs and butt tense under their heavy blanket of flab as she straightened back up from the squat, straining with the effort of levering her heavy body back into a standing position. Still, they managed it, and so she continued. The next few weren’t so bad either, but by the fifth her muscles were really beginning to complain with the unaccustomed use. By the eighth she felt like her butt and thighs were on fire, burning in a way that she couldn’t remember feeling since her first double marathon. Her breath was coming fast, the air thick in her throat as she struggled to drag in enough oxygen to sate her wailing muscles. She dropped down for another squat, wheezing and puffing, and almost couldn’t stand again, lingering on her haunches for a moment before heaving herself back to her feet with an unladylike grunt. She could feel the sweat pouring down her body, thick rivulets dripping down her chest and vanishing between her heaving breasts as she lowered herself down for one last squat to make it to ten.
Her yoga pants had been creaking the entire time under the abuse from her massive backside, and now as she collapsed down into a squat for the last time, they finally gave up and split all the way down the back, letting her huge butt slump free into the daylight. She gave a little shriek of surprise and tried to straighten up, only for her thigh muscles to finally revolt from their own ill-use. She tipped over forwards onto the mat, too surprised even to break her fall with her arms, and as she lay there with her sweaty face against the cool foam, bare rear quivering in the air, wheezing as she tried unsuccessfully to catch her breath, there was only one thought going through her head.

Exercise sucks.