Game 3Game 3 Outline| Game 3 |
Game 3 Outline |
As you swell, you suddenly become aware of addition pressure at your arms and legs. A quick glace over your swell form catches sight of the clasps, which are almost hidden by the rings of flab pushing against them. An idea hits you like a sack of potatoes... which you probably resemble at this point. Putting all your might into it, you begin rocking back and forth, quickly building momentum, which becomes pronounced as your wobbling belly sways like an ocean, adding to the momentum as it reaches the edges of the conveyer belt. You start to hear the sound of stressed metal at each rock and swing. Finally, you build enough where your stomach sways over, and continues as it goes over your center of gravity, you feel the metal start bending as your body rolls, your mass doing all the work as it pulls at your restraints. There is a sudden spark, and the clasps suddenly open, your body pulling away, even as the mechanical legs continue pumping fluid into the open air.
Your body falls off the conveyer belt which continues onward, still voicing information. You hit the floor with a meaty plop, rolling completely over onto your back again, panting from the effort, watching your body wobbling like a jello mold as you do. Once you've caught your breath, you try to get up, pushing yourself up onto your flabby arms, looking at the sphere that is your stomach blocking your view of your feet.
"Entering phase 3", you hear as the conveyer reaches the next door. "By now you have reached the maximum aesthetic appeal, and have now reached the final phase. At this point we will remind you this is your last checkpoint, and after this your mascot conditioning will be...." the door closes, and the voice is lost. Sounds like you don't have much time left before Sweet's finds out about your escape. You huff and puff and heave yourself over, managing to get to your feet, your ankles popping as your stomach bounces against your... shins? That's the best you can tell, you can't see past your love handles, and can barely bend over with so much stomach fat in the way. You heave one leg after another, feeling the floor shake beneath you as you look for an exit. Thankfully there is one, which you promptly waddle slowly though... and stick. Your sides and rump, push against the door frame, and you are forced to turn and squeeze your way through, knowing if you get caught it's all over.
As you plop free, you see you are in a merchandise room, though you can see the machine you were traveling through, and can hear the hum of the machine still, all the dolls and clothes you saw are here, your red fur matching everything, There are shirts that look like tents, rubber balls of you up to and including giant beach balls. Even the plush dolls are huge, some approaching the size of a bed... and you are just as big if not more so. Despite hating this, you grab a shirt and a cap, donning them so that you blend in. Now you look like cookie wolf in every sense of the word.
Written by an anonymous author
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