Cass Evermore

Some stories are written in ink. Others… in soft folds and stolen glances.

Timelines is a body-bending, heart-bruising, magic-laced graphic novel about Ellie—a determined young woman who takes one wrong turn in the park and ends up cursed into something far bigger than she ever imagined.

Literally.

One card. One number. One transformation that doesn’t stop at the hips.

Caught in a world where fate feels soft and heavy, Ellie finds herself growing into a new identity—a lush, wobbling silhouette of curves, apron belly, and thickened thighs she never thought she’d call her own. But as the weeks pass, so do her fears.

What begins as horror… becomes curiosity. What begins as shame… becomes power. What begins as a curse… might just be the best thing that ever happened to her.

✨ Magical transformation, identity shifts, soft acceptance, and the kind of plush body that makes mirrors blush.

This is a story of surrender and self-love. Of what happens when you stop running—and start feeling. There are twists still to come. New forms. Unexpected pleasures. Maybe even redemption.

For lovers of huge, soft, flabby bodies and gentle, sensual storytelling—you’ll feel right at home.

All pages are AI-generated under my direction (yes, I am that witchy with prompts), but I’ll also be sharing original concept sketches of Ellie and the other key characters as we go, to bring their magic to life in more than one style.

Don’t be afraid to let yourself soften.

Next pixel loop.

Union Jack confidence, platform boots, and the dangerous belief that the dress is still the main event.

Next pixel loop.

Soft colours, sweet smile, and a transformation that’s a little gentler than claws and fur.

Next pixel loop.

Bright colours, soft smile, and a transformation that definitely isn’t the one Enid was expecting.

Next pixel loop.

Suburban calm, sensible shoes, and the quiet confidence of someone who hasn’t realised she’s about to become the cutaway gag.

Fourth pixel loop.

Bright colours, big smile, tiny wheels.

A plastic-perfect roller girl with the kind of confidence that says the outfit was made for her… for now.

Third pixel loop.

A little sparkle, a little flag-waving, and the dangerous confidence of someone who thinks that outfit is going to fit forever.

Second pixel loop.

Still got the attitude.

Just a little more of her now.

She still knows how to strike the pose.

It just lands a little differently now.

A tiny pixel loop about confidence, curves, and the strange little thrill of watching a character change frame by frame.

From the legendary Jay Tee.

He imagined me bigger.

Soft Revenge – A comic by Cass Evermore

“You always said you’d grow with me…” But you just kept prancing around like a size 8 dreamgirl… …while I sank deeper into the cushions.

Not prancing anymore, are you? Just spreading.

This page broke me a little. That look on El’s face as she holds up her old passport—like she’s trying to convince the world she still belongs to herself.

I’ve felt that dread too. The fear that people will decide you don’t fit—that they’ll say no, send you back, judge you for a body you didn’t plan but carry anyway. But no one said a thing. Just a stamp.

This one hurts. Not because El’s weak—but because the world is. The glares, the quiet cruelty of being watched in a body that doesn’t pass quietly.

She doesn’t say much here—but she doesn’t have to. Her eyes, her posture, the internal scream when someone says “step on the scale”… it’s all there.

But still—she boards the plane. She sits. She breathes. She survives.

There’s something beautifully bold about packing a bag and boarding a plane when you feel like the world’s been shrinking around you. El doesn’t care where they’re going—she just wants space. Fresh air. A break from being “the big girl” that everyone in town already thinks they know.

This page got me deep. It’s the ache of asking for the scooter in a whisper. The beep that feels louder than shame. The silent command not to cry, not here. And then… a smile. A small kindness. No pity, no gawking, just grace.

She was sweet then. She’s softer now.

Same smile. Twice the belly.