Please Read Before Continuing:

A serious warning to anyone reading this: This is not, I repeat NOT, a normal Carlisle/Esme story. If you are looking for a cannon story, this is not it. If you are looking for a story in character, look somewhere else. This story contains sexual situations and differing views of beauty. This story centers around the acceptance of one's body and love at any size and or shape. If that offends you, or if anything about not-skinny-girls is disgusting to you, now would be a good time to leave. I really don't want any hate mail because of this story, which is why I am placing this warning before everything.

After reading many stories featuring trim and proper Cullen ladies, I decided to mix it up a bit. I'm really tired of hearing about "skinny waists" and "fit tummies" because for most woman out there, and I'm not saying all, that just isn't reality. Even though it is fanfiction, a dash of reality is sometimes needed. Self-acceptance is something that everyone should have, and self-respect is even more important. Society today just isn't proud of the average female form, so I decided to write about what it would be like were Carlisle and Esme approached with a situation different from the normal. Once again, if anything associated with what has been stated above offends you, please do not read. Also, if you are under 18 please stop reading.

Alright, on with the show! I know this is a little odd, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!


Carlisle P.O.V

Something was off. I knew that before I even woke up. I was waking up, wasn't I? The feeling of exhaustion suddenly seemed so familiar to me, like an old friend coming back after so long away. In a way I welcomed the feeling.

It was human.

My eyelids peeled back, painfully slowly and with an eerie dryness that was uncomfortable to say the least. My bones hurt and my body ached. I was tired.

The sun was just above the horizon, allowing its bright rays to cascade across the skyscrapers outside the window in front of me. The clean, crisp plane of glass allowed a burst of light to gleam through, hitting me with its full force. I winced, prepared for my skin to alight like the glass in front of me. But there was nothing. My skin was normal skin.

I was human.

I could feel it within me, as clear as the sun in front of me.

Suddenly I became a frantic mess, sitting up so quickly I nearly hit my head on the head board. My mind raced, my heart thumped.

Human.

Never in my wildest dreams could I ever imagine such a wonderful fate. This was not a dream, this was real.

I glanced over at the other side of my bed to find a resting Esme, her form twisted with a large blanket beneath the comforter, a bright flame of caramel hair fanned across her pillow. I resisted the urge to spring upon her in my excited state and pull her up from her sleeping position, but I couldn't fight the urge to gently wake her by pressing a hand to her shoulder and whispering softly to her.

"Esme, my dear, wake up. You won't believe what happened."

She rolled over sleepily, allowing me to sneak a glance at her lovely face, as lovely as ever, before rolling back over to face the opposite wall.

"Not yet, Carlisle," she moaned. "Go do your work out and come back and get me when you're done. I'm too tired after last night."

What the heck?

"What are you talking about, Esme?"

She grumbled something incoherent before pulling the sheets closer toward her frame.

This is getting a little scary.

Suddenly, an image of a sick and dying Esme who had succumbed to her human illness appeared in my mind. What if this is some sort of hell? What if this is my punishment? The thought made me breath harder and my heart race.

"Esme, please get up. We need to talk."

"No. Go away. Go run or whatever you do and come back in an hour. We'll take a shower together."

What? Has she gone mad?

"Esme, what on earth are you talking about? Esme?"

She rolled over and sighed. I was finally annoyed. And worried. Was she not fazed by what has happened? Is she not happy?

"Esme, I'm going to pull this blanket off and you're going to get up and we are going to talk. Surely you are happy about what happened, surely you can tell…"

My voice trailed off as I yanked the covers off my wife, only to find something I was most certainly not expecting to find. What I had thought were blankets beneath her were not blankets at all.

There, lying on the right side of the bed, her head nearly off the pillow, was the body of another woman. It was not my wife's. That was for sure.

I have had ninety years to get to know every curvature of Esme's body, and this…this is not anything I remember.

Esme looked beyond bloated, a much fuller version of herself. I knew it was her, theoretically, but I couldn't wrap my mind around what she had become.

My petite wife had blossomed into a plump woman without me even knowing.

She was wearing nothing but a scrap of lace to cover her nether regions, which was, in itself, a very un-Esme-like thing to do since she is very rarely caught without a bra on, no matter the circumstance. Though, with a chest that size I could tell why she wasn't wearing a bra. Propping up breasts of that size would of course be rather painful, especially with human flesh.

Maybe I was blowing it out of proportion. She wasn't fat, just plump and very curvy. More curvy then I had ever seen her. I felt my face get hot.

She sat up a bit, supporting herself with her elbows. Her arms looked thicker, as did her face. Her belly had always had a slight outward curve, but never something that could actually be called a belly, until now. It appeared soft and her bellybutton looked squished from the flesh around it. I could see a slight crease in the skin, which meant it probably looked small compared to what it would look like when she stood up.

Because of the size of her breasts and the space her flaring hips occupied I could immediately tell she was a full hourglass shape. I suddenly felt very proud of her new figure.

Of course she would be gorgeous with a couple pounds on her; she's my wife after all.

As she properly sat up, allowing her back to fall across the head board, her tummy bunched up into a little hill by her crotch and her pert breasts sagged slightly. I tilted my head a bit, confused but enamored by her new look.

I wished for this, didn't I? What have I gotten myself into?

She hooked one voluptuous thigh over the other and sent me an amused grin.

"What are you smiling about?"

I shook my head, smiling slightly. "I – you…we're human and you're…"

She raised an eyebrow. "Yes, we are human last time I checked, and I'm what? Lazy? Is that what you were going to say?" She laughed. "Yeah, I know I'm lazy, but I'm getting up. I guess I'll go get breakfast going…are you going to go…you know, work out for a while? Or are you skipping today?"

She's obviously unaware of what has happened, which really isn't all that bad, since, if she was conscious of our changing, she would most likely be screaming in anger over her new body. I suppose God is watching out for me.

"Uh, I guess I'll just skip today," I said, going along with the apparent reality.

She smiled, shaking her head as she stood up slowly. "Don't get soft on me, honey. I got to have my buff man around for eye candy."

I didn't really know what to say back so I just kept my mouth shut.

Better to be quiet then say the wrong thing.

She walked past me, brushing her hand across my leg with an electric touch. She leaned into me, pushing her bountiful chest into mine, and planted a soft kiss on my lips. My eyes briefly shut but when I opened them she was gone again.

I noticed the closet was open and guessed she had gone to change. I missed her presence but was glad I could finally take in my surroundings.

The room appeared to look similar to our bedroom back home, if maybe a little smaller and more cluttered. I could tell from the skyline outside our window that we were in New York City, which was indeed a big move from Forks. A rack of weights sat in the corner along with an elliptical. I eyed the machine with mixed feelings. I had never needed to work out to stay fit, I just was.

I hopped out of bed and peeled off my white t-shirt so I could properly see my reflection. Sure enough, Esme wasn't lying. I looked like the type of guy who worked out every day. Although I wasn't quite on par with Emmett's size, I was definitely getting there. Muscle covered by taunt, pale skin coated my body like a foreign layer of clothing. I suddenly felt bulky and out of touch with myself. It was an even weirder feeling then waking up human. I somehow felt infiltrated. My life outside of just being turned into a human has been modified.

"Quit staring at yourself, babe. I've got bacon to fry and you've got toast to burn."

Those perfect, plush hips were covered by a pair of painted on shorts and those beautiful breasts were pulled together by a tight red robe that was tied just above her navel and ended mid-thigh, allowing me access to those perfect mounds and to the soft stomach beneath them. My mouth became very dry and my body became hot as I stared at my wife in all of her perfection. The symptoms of my arousal were so unfamiliar I was almost alarmed by them. I couldn't remember ever feeling this way before, not even when I was human.

"Are you feeling alright, Carlisle? You've been acting kind of strange…"

Esme looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and concern as she placed a hand on my stomach. She laughed as she rubbed my abs, her hand massaging the muscle in a teasing way.

"When I married you I would have never guessed we would have ended up this way. It's surreal, the life we live. We're so lucky."

She sighed, a smile dancing on her lips as she tangled her arms around my neck, pulling me into a deep kiss. I returned it eagerly, deepening it by placing a firm hand on her much larger behind. She groaned and pulled away, her eyes dancing.

"Not now, Dr. Cullen. We have to eat first and then we can play."

I followed her through a short hallway to a small kitchen, identical to the one at home except in scale. She fished around in the cabinets and pulled out a few pans before going over to the fridge to grab some ingredients.

"Aren't you going to help, macho man?" she asked, her head partly obscured by the fridge door.

"What do you want me to do?"

She ordered me around the kitchen for about half an hour as she effortlessly scrambled eggs, flipped pancakes and fried bacon, her body zooming around as fast as a plump, 26 year old woman can zoom. I momentarily wondered how someone could gain any weight when they moved so fast and frequently.

I carefully set the table and poured orange juice for both of us. Esme raced over, setting down two plates, identical in mass, at either place mat. That's when I realized why my wife was no longer the tiny little woman I once knew. This Esme knew how to eat, and eat a lot.

I was pretty hungry, and I ate everything on my plate, but for a man who apparently works out as much as I do now, combined with my increased physical stature, that amount is fairly normal. For me. For my wife, who stands at around 5"6' that amount of food is a little ridiculous.

By no means wanting to discourage her beautiful figure, I watched in awe as she ate her massive portion, hardly hesitating as she reached for the last piece of bacon.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, a cheeky smile on her face. She was pouring more milk (whole milk at that) into her already creamy coffee. I raised an eyebrow and she smirked.

"You know I don't like the bitter stuff like you do." She glared at my cup of black coffee. It tasted fine to me. I shrugged.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, Esme picking at the crust of her toast, me sipping on the last of my orange juice.

I don't know how, or why, but I suddenly blurted out the most embarrassing, stupid, thing I could ever blurt out.

"Esme, how much do you weigh?"

I expected her to spit out a mouthful of coffee, but instead she just snorted and rolled her eyes.

"I know I'm fat, you don't have to go all doctor on me. Even so…" she drawled as she scooted over closer to me so she could sit in my lap. Her legs straddled my hips, nearly forcing me to grab onto her butt, pulling her even closer. "You wanted me like this."

That was enough to nearly spit out the OJ in my mouth. Nearly. Somehow I was able to keep it down.

"I weighed 183 lbs. last time I checked, which was last night before we went to bed."

Thank God I had already swallowed, or else I would have sprayed orange juice across the kitchen. 183 pounds? Good God! What have I gotten myself into?

That's a dramatic gain when compared to old Esme who weighed 118 soaking wet.

"Luckily for you," she whispered as she slid off my lap to collect the empty plates, "Most of it went to my boobs. Not all husbands are so fortunate."

That was true; most of it did go to either her chest or her bum, both of which were immensely appreciated. While before she had had a C-cup chest, her bum had always been flat, so to finally see a nice curve at the bottom of her back was like a wish being fulfilled.

"We better get going, honey. Don't want to be late for work."

We swiftly cleaned up the kitchen and headed for the bathroom, where Esme finally allowed me a little bit of play time.