Kat Timpf Weight Novels & Stories

the officer said in a commanding voice. "Yes, officer..." Tim trailed off. "Officer Wilson," the cop replied, sternly. With a sinking feeling, Tim opened the door and got out of the car. He was shivering, even though it was not a particularly cold night. Tim was a slip of a boy, 5-7, 120 pounds, max. Tim was blonde, and barely looked like he had passed through puberty. He was wearing a thin t-shirt, loose straight-legged jeans, and a beat-up pair of Converse AllStars. It all accentuated how pathetically scrawny he was.

“Watch elevation. Catwalks, rafters—” The lights slam on. Blinding. White. Brutal. For half a second, the world freezes in overexposure. Then the trap snaps shut. Steel doors crash down behind Alpha with a sound like thunder, sealing them off. From every side passage, every previously quiet loading bay, men flood in—real fighters this time. Body armor. Helmets. Weapons already raised. Not reacting. Waiting. “Contact—multiple!” someone yells. Charlie is hit from three sides at once.

The introduction went like this. Titan: My name's Titan. Fifteen. 80kg. 5 feet 4 inches. I know I'm fat, so don't dare talk behind my back about it or experience the most excruciating pain you've ever experienced in your entire life. This is not an empty threat, mind you. I'm effin serious. Next!