Game 3Game 3 Outline| Game 3 |
Game 3 Outline |
You take one of the pies from the shelves and sit down, the heavenly aroma causing your mouth to water so much, it could fill a pool. After one bite, you're in paradise, as the flavor of beef, cooked to perfection, covered in a rich, yet delicate gravy with a moist yet crunchy crust, passes your lips. You soon eat the entire thing, and find yourself licking the pan clean of every last smear of gravy. "Alright," you think, "Now that I've eaten, time to find that gold." You start toward the other side of the kitchen, but you feel yourself compelled to turn around, drawn by the wonderful aroma of those pies. "Well, maybe just a few more," you think, "I've got time."
Soon the table is creaking with the weight of twenty or thirty pies. Each one seems better than the last, and for some reason, you just can't stand not to have the next one. One by one, they disappear into your gullet, pans licked clean, and not a crumb left anywhere. Finally, you finish the last crumb. You look around, and whine, as no more of theose delicious pies are in sight. "Just as well," you think, "I need to start looking for the gold." You try to rise to your feet.
Nothing happens.
You try again. You feel yourself straining, but nothing budges. You look yourself over... and almost scream. Gigantic doesn't even begin to describe you. All you can see is a vast slope of fur that digs greedily into the side of the table. Lifting heavy paws, you explore, and find that they are next to useless, as walls of fat block them from reaching any part of you but your immense sides.
Poof "Looks like ye're goin' to lose the game now, lad." You hear the leprachaun say. You see him lounging on your belly as if it were a bean bag. "You", you yell, but are surprised to hear it greatly muffled. "You did thiff." You suddenly become aware that your muzzle fat is starting to seriously impede your ability to speak, some sounds becoming unpronounceable. "Twasn't I," says the leprechuan. "Ye happened upon me great-grandmother's pies, made with her special sauce. Delicious to the last drop, but to mortals, it becomes irresistable." You growl, though you find it lost in the mounds of fat. "Itsh... noff... oveh... yeff," you wheeze, the growing fat starting to make you incomprehensible, trying to move the tinest portion of your body from the chair. "Oh, but it nearly is... ye have," he pulls out a pocket watch and looks at the time, "two minutes left."
You almost have a heart attack... you were eating for almost eight hours!? You scream, while the Leprechaun laughs. "Let's make this interesting," he says, snapping his fingers. A fridge opens, and inside is an iron pot, filled to the brim with gold coins. "There's me gold; if ye can reach it, I'll fix ye, and give ye a wish. If not... yer mine." he says. From the tone of his voice, it doesn't seem like you've got a choice in the matter. And you have less than two minutes to figure out a way to move your ton of flab across the room...
Written by an anonymous author (edited by wanderer)
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