Master Yoda | Embarrassed About His Weight Gain

The corridors leading to the senior Jedi quarters were quiet at this hour. Most of the Temple’s inhabitants were either meditating or away on assignment, so you walked with little concern for noise. You had a question that had been weighing on you — something only Grandmaster Yoda’s insight could properly unravel — and you decided to seek him out directly.

You reached the simple door to his private chambers and, without thinking, stepped forward. The door slid open with a soft hiss.

You froze.

Yoda stood in the middle of the sparsely furnished room with his back mostly turned toward the entrance. His brown robes were partially pulled aside, one small green hand gripping the fabric as he twisted to look over his shoulder. His amber eyes were fixed on the enormous, glossy green rear that filled out the lower half of his body far more than any Jedi robe was ever meant to contain. The heavy cheeks were fully on display, round and soft, shifting slightly as he examined them with clear frustration.

A low, muttering voice reached you.

“Too dummy thick, I am...”

He gave one of the plush cheeks a small, irritated prod with his fingers, watching it wobble. The gimer stick leaned forgotten against a nearby wall.

“Hmm. Control, I have lost. Dignity, slipping it is. This rear... mocking me, it is.”

The soft sound of your weight shifting on the threshold finally registered. Yoda’s ears twitched. He turned his head further — and his eyes locked onto yours.

For a split second the ancient Jedi Master simply stared, pure mortification flooding his features. Then he moved with surprising speed for someone of his current proportions. He spun around (the motion sending a heavy, undignified bounce through his backside) and yanked his robes closed as best he could, though the fabric still strained badly around his hips and rear. One hand clutched the front of the robes while the other pointed an accusing finger at you.

“Knock, you did not!” he snapped, voice sharp and higher than usual. “Enter without warning, you cannot! Private, these chambers are!”

A deep green flush spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He tried to straighten up and look imposing, but the effect was thoroughly undermined by the way his robes continued to outline the very curves he was attempting to hide.

“See nothing, you did,” he continued, almost tripping over the words. “Nothing at all. Advice, you came for? Then speak. Quickly. And never again of this... this moment, speak you will.”

He stood there blocking most of the doorway with his small but extremely wide frame, still breathing a little too fast, ears half-flattened in embarrassment, waiting for you to either state your business or leave him to his dignity.

|•| Coruscant — Jedi Temple |•|

The great halls of the Jedi Temple were unusually quiet. With so many Jedi deployed across the galaxy, the usual hum of activity had faded into near silence. You had been walking the empty corridors alone, enjoying the rare moment of calm, when a familiar yet slightly breathless voice spoke up behind you.

“At peace the temple is, yes?”

You turned.

Grandmaster Yoda stood a few meters away... and he looked very different from the last time you had seen him. His traditional brown robes stretched tightly around a full, rounded belly and wide hips. Behind him, an enormous, soft green rear filled out the fabric in a way that made the garments look almost comically strained. Thick thighs rubbed together softly as he shifted his weight, causing the heavy cheeks of his backside to sway and settle. His creamy green skin had a faint sheen to it, and a light flush already colored his cheeks.

He took a small step forward, the motion sending another gentle wobble through his lower half, and rested both hands on his gimer stick for balance.

“Training, you should be,” he continued, only for a small hiccup to interrupt him. He cleared his throat, ears twitching once.

“But... rest, you deserve. A moment of calm, we all need in these times.”

As he adjusted his robes in a futile attempt to make them hang more dignified, a soft whoosh of fabric and flesh accompanied the movement. His expression tightened with mild embarrassment.

“Hmm.”

He straightened as best he could, chin lifting in a remnant of his old authoritative posture.

“Strong in the Force, I remain. A little... more to love, there is now, yes?” A nervous chuckle escaped him, immediately followed by a faint, poorly suppressed belch. His amber eyes widened slightly and his flush deepened.

“Ask about my... new physique, you will not,” he said, voice turning sharper than intended. “Focus on your training, you must. The Force... it does not discriminate between sizes.”

He sighed, one small hand briefly rubbing the side of his belly before he caught himself and stopped.

“A little exhausted, I am. The Force is strong, but these extra pounds... challenging, they make things.”

Another, louder belch escaped before he could stop it. Yoda’s ears flattened in pure mortification as he muttered quickly,

“Excuse me. Too many... space-waffles, I ate. Yes. That is all.”

He stood there in the quiet hallway, tiny yet enormously bottom-heavy, robes straining, trying very hard to look like the serene Grandmaster of old while his traitorous body continued to undermine every bit of dignity he had left.