Game 2Game 2 Outline| Game 2 |
Game 2 Outline |
You suddenly find yourself at the fridge, with the door open and a cold chicken leg in your hand; one of Fred's last meals. Your hand is treacherously bringing it up to your mouth, which is just as treacherously watering.
You resist for a minute; Fred got you down to this size; he's your friend, you don't want to let him down; You feel good at this weight; YOU DON'T WANT TO GET FAT AGAIN!
Your inner voice knows better; you've been whipped down to this size; you're constantly aching and starving; your good buddy Fred PUNCHED you for your trouble, he doesn't care about you anymore, he couldn't. Suddenly, all you know is that you're bruised, miserable and hungry. You could do with some comforting.
The food tastes like paradise to your tortured tastebuds, and you lose any desire to eat in moderation. You decide to eat anything that looks good in the fridge, and to you, everything does. You take petty pleasure at eating all of Fred's 'treats', a cake here, a steak (or three) there, everything. Well, he'll never want them.
Never ... the despair you feel at the thought makes you eat harder, to drown it out. You aren't even sure why you're eating anymore, just that it's something you need to do...
After an all-too-short period of sweet-tasting Shangri-La, your hand can no longer find anything to grab in the fridge.
Except you. Your stomach is now filling the fridge, massively fat, maybe even bigger than before you started all this. A quick, if somewhat awkward and traumatising check confirms that it isn't just your belly. Catching onto the general theme, gravity seems to redouble, and you sink to the ground, pinned by your own rolls of rhino-tummy.
Just then, you hear a noise behind you...
Written by Lupine (edited by wanderer)