The Blob of Turnerville
Toffey was at his desk. Sitting on his phone, doom-scrolling through YouTube shorts—flick after flick, video after video. “Hey, Vsauce. Michael he-” “Here’s what Microsoft doesn’t wa-” “MAKING RANDOM FOODS TO SATISFY THOSE 3 AM-” “GUYS! Don’t scroll away! You’ll be amazed-”
The Pallas cat kept scrolling. He enjoyed these days when he watched YouTube videos endlessly. His hazy grey fur was freshly fluffed from a shower, leaning back with nothing but his boxers and a small white shirt, letting his flab fly free. When he was at home, he didn’t care what he wore. In fact, he didn’t care at all. The world could be burning to a crisp, and he likely wouldn’t even notice, no matter what he was doing. His parents always worried about him being on his own. With his lack of worldly awareness, he had often let entire days go by without achieving anything.
Immediately shooting past all the cringe streamers and storytime videos with Subway surfers or recipes in the background. “This is gonna be hard for me. I haven’t had mushrooms in-” “WHY DOESN’T PAPA JOHNS HAVE THIS PIZZA?!” “This PlayStation 2 is actually a PlayStation Portable, and here’s-”
Toffey kept doom-scrolling. “I’ve seen all these before.”
“Gamers are going mad over this new supplement!” That had Toffey’s attention. He was an avid shooter and survival gamer. “E-sports gamers worldwide are taking this supplement before every match, improving their eyesight, hand-eye coordination, and aim in shooters such as Call of Duty, CSGO, and Halo.” Side-by-side footage showed significant improvements in aim and kill streaks. “WOW. Discovered by doctors only three months ago, this supplement has already made headlines in the Esports industry. Click below to try it now for free! Don’t wait!”
“I’m not gonna!” He hit the blue button at the bottom of the screen. Immediately, his phone warned him of visiting sketchy sites. “Nah, don’t warn me. I know.” He dismissed the warning immediately and continued, wanting to ‘get gud’ at those shooters! The website was shoddily made and was not optimized for mobile. An obnoxious pop-up filled the screen requesting his email. Of course, being the unsuspecting and trusting Pallas cat he was, he gave his email without a second thought. It was then that his phone froze. “Oh.” Toffey simply put it in his pocket and turned on his computer instead. “It’ll fix itself.”
After an hour of Raft, he got a ping from his phone. It was an email from someone he didn’t recognize—that is, until he opened it, despite the email app declaring it spam.
F P S.Plus@q<SUPPELMINT-dmw@c-data.c.oil><on behalf of F P S.PlusF PS.Plus@q<SUPPELMINT-dmw@c-data.c.oil>
To: You
CC: You
DONT MISS UR CHANCE!
ORDUR FPSPLUS NOW!!!!
~!!!OrDeR NoW!!!~
“Are these those pills?.” He tapped the link, and it opened up a chat box.
Agent: Hello. I’m so delighted to be speaking with you. Before we get too caught up in conversation, can I have your full name and address, please?
You: Hi. I’m Toffey Pallas. I live at 834 Livingston Drive
Agent: Good. Now, I see you’re chatting in to order some FPSPLUS. Is that correct?
You: Sure is. I’m so excited!
Agent: Wonderful. We will need a few things from you.
Agent: To provide an optimal dosage we require your height, weight, and pictures of your naked body.
You: Oh, wow. I’ve never taken nude pics before. First time for everything.
Agent: I assure you, they are not “nude pics,” Toffey. We use these to gauge how much to prescribe. Think of it as stripping down in front of a doctor, like a telehealth appointment.
You: OH! Alright. Gotcha!
Agent: I’ll message every few minutes so we don’t time out.
Toffey had never taken nude pictures before. He found it very difficult to get the angle right. His logic was if they needed nude photos, they probably needed to see everything, and using his phone to get his entire body was rather difficult. “How do those Instagram people do it?” After a few minutes of taking failed photos, he finally took a few that looked good.
You: How’s this?
You: Uploaded image: 20250120_100256.jpg
You: Uploaded image: 20250121_162908.jpg
You: My height is 5’10”
You: My weight is 300 lbs
You: I hope that works for you. I tried super hard.
Agent: Thank you for getting back so quickly. This is all the info we need. Expect a text from your local pharmacy. You use the Walmart on Gilliam Ave right?
You: Wow, how do you know that? I didn’t even tell you that.
Agent: We accessed your medical records. This makes it easier to work with our patients.
You: Well, I sure can’t wait!
Agent: And don’t forget. Your first fill is free. After that, we will need to confirm your insurance info to see if we can cover future fill-ups.
You: Whoa. EVEN BETTER!
Not once did he think this was suspicious.
The next morning, Toffey received a text from the pharmacy saying his prescription for FPSPLUS was ready to be filled. He shot out of bed so fast. Opening his closet, he grabbed his favorite black hoodie and yanked it onto his body. It may have been an ill fit, leaving his non-existent abs and a heart-shaped birthmark on his lower belly exposed, but he literally didn’t care. It was his favorite hoodie, and it was gonna be a fantastic day! His cargo shorts were on the edge of the bed, the belt still dangling from the belt loops. He pulled them up and ran out the door.
As he parked at Walmart, he realized he came during rush hour.was during rush hour. Toffey was still excited; no amount of hindrances would check his high today. As he stood in the long line for the pharmacy, he read the text over and over.
“Next.” The pharmacist called. Toffey realized it was his turn. “Name and birth date?” The fennec behind the counter was not in the mood for top-notch customer service today.
“Toffey. April 12th, 1999.” He stood there patiently, unaware that the two Shiba Inu behind him were pointing and laughing. His black hoodie was much too small, letting his belly hang out.
“We got one ready.” He turned around and pulled a white bag from the shelf.
“Oh, yay!” That’s the FPSPLUS.” He contained his excitement as best he could, bouncing on his toes.
“Have you taken this medication before?” The fennec looked it over, confirming it was the correct medication. He made a weird face seeing the label. Why is he taking a weight gain medication? He looks fat enough.
“Nope, but I should have been sooner!” He thought of all the games he’d be absolutely destroying after taking a single dose.
“Uh huh,” the pharmacist said with doubt. “Anyway, take two in the morning and one at night, with food.” He did a double take and stared at the bottle again. That's way too much! What the hell is with this dosage? He read over the bottle again, not recognizing the doctor’s name at all.
“Alright. I'll get lunch to take these with then.” Toffey signed for the pills and went on his way.
That's not the last we'll be seeing of him, the Fennec Pharmacist thought. Hopefully, it’s not in the obituaries.
Luckily for Toffey, lunch was a short drive away. In front of the Walmart and by the carwash sat his favorite place. Gigantos. He always went to Gigantos when he needed something on the fly, and his body certainly showed that fact. As he pulled in, he checked the time. “Let’s eat in today.” He ripped open the paper bag that held his meds, opened the bottle, and poured two of the meds out and into his mouth before he left since he’d have food shortly anyway. Toffey strode into Gigantos, wondering what he'd order this time. He came by at a slow hour, luckily. There were a few customers around, but no one was in line.
Unlike the pharmacist, the employees at Gigantos were always in a good mood. “Hey, welcome to Gigantos! What can we start fresh for you?” The doe seemed delighted to be working today. Her brown eyes gleamed with delight.
“Hi,” Toffey chirped. “I’d like a large Macho burger combo with everything on it, please.
“Sounds great,” the employee said. “Anything else?” She punched in the order, her fingers flying across the POS screen.
“No, thanks.
“Your total comes to $12.75. Cash or card today?”
“Card.” Toffey dug into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.
“Thank you, sir. Here’s your number,” she said, handing him a small plastic table sign with a number on it and a large fountain drink cup. We’ll bring it out to you fresh and hot.”
“Thanks.” Toffey grabbed his glass and turned toward the soda fountain. It was already turning out to be a decent day, which would only improve it. A loud shout echoed from the office in the back. The doe gave a sheepish grin and ran to the back. Toffey didn’t think about it and filled his cup with Orange Lavaburst.
“DAMN IT!” The door slammed shut. Robbie fell back into his seat, covering his face. “How the hell am I supposed to cut more corners?” Papers cluttered the weasel’s desk as his fur glistened with sweat from the sheer stress, a line running down the back of his orange uniform polo.
“Sir, is everything-” the doe swung the door open.
“No, Starburst!” Robbie let his head fall to the desk. “Sorry, I just really hate your name.”
“I know, sir,” Starburst said with a sigh. “You tell me that all the time.”
“Anyway, S.B.,” he used the name he preferred when addressing the doe, “The head offices want me to cut corners again.
“How, though?” S.B. asked, nearly as shocked as she was. “We’re already a skeleton crew. Jeremy is only handling the dinner rush by guzzling Red Bulls.”
“I know about Jeremy,” Robbie said with a dismissive sigh. “I know about the hours, I know about your overtime, I know about all our issues.” he raised his head and let it fall with every point of contention the restaurant was experiencing. “The only thing I can imagine cutting is our pay, but obviously that’s not happening.”
“Damn right, it’s not!” Jeremy shouted from the grill line, assembling a Macho burger. “If my pay goes down, I’m leaving!” The squirrel had frazzled orange-brown fur, twinged whiskers, and frantic, wild green eyes. He didn’t separate his view from the burger he was assembling, counting down the seconds until the fryer would go off. “Three, two, one, ding.” The fryer blared its alarm, and he swung around wildly, pulling the crisp, golden potatoes from the oil.
“So what can I do, S.B.?” He blindly pulled a sheet from the desk. “The only thing I can see working is finding a new, cheaper supplier for fryer oil, but that’s gonna be hell.” He handed her the paper. It showed a list of suppliers, which were all negligible in savings and of varying quality. “I can’t make this decision! We’ll all lose our jobs!”
“Orders up!” Jeremy slid a jumbo burger and a large boat of fries under the lamp.
“I’ll, um,” S.B. took this chance to escape, “get back to you.”
“No, go ahead,” Robbie flopped over, his frail, nimble body flopping over in his cushy computer chair. “Leave me here to debate our fates.” He let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Oh, woe is me!”
“Yo! Order 47!”
“I’m coming!” S.B. grunted frustratingly. “Drama queen.” She ran over to the hot lamp and pulled the order down onto a tray.
Toffey sat in his booth, waiting patiently for his food. Time flowed differently for Toffey. A day could feel like an hour; ten minutes could feel like three hours. He could sit and stare at a wall without even caring about how futile it was. Watching paint dry could very well be a fun activity for his simple mind. His train of thought, if you could call it that, was interrupted when S.B. slid a tray of food in front of him.
“Sorry about that wait. Here’s your order.” She seemed flustered about something.
“Oh, look. A cookie.” Toffey pointed to a large chocolate chip cookie in a wax paper sleeve in the upper corner of the tray. He didn’t order a cookie. Or did he?
“It’s on us. We took a while.” S.B. pulled the number stand from the table and turned around. “Thank you. Do come again.” Her hooves clacked against the tile as she strode away, her rear swaying with each step.
Toffey didn’t ogle her body, though. He was too focused on the matter at hand: food! If there was one thing he could focus on, it was satisfying his hunger (when he remembered). The smell was so enticing that it would have formed in a waft of smoke, coiled around his body, and hooked him by the nose in a cartoon. He unwrapped his burger from its paper prison and unveiled it. Juices dripped from the two freshly grilled and smashed patties, topped with melted cheese. Freshly cut veggies sat on top of the patties like a postcard, pristine and beautiful, begging to be eaten. But the sauce; ooooooh, the sauce. The light orange sauce dribbled from the sides, tangy but sour at the same time, bringing out the umami flavor of the meat. He would happily come to Gigantos any day just for this. Fuck McDonalds and Burger King. The fries were even better! Always cooked to order, they were hot and coated perfectly with salt and pepper, the standard for Gigantos. Cajun fries from Five Guys were second place to these puppies, and that’s tough competition!
He turned to his burger, putting the pill bottle away, “Come here, you delicious thing.” Wasting no more time, he grabbed the enormous burger and took a large bite. Juices flowed down his maw as he chewed, savoring the freshly grilled beef and sauce mingling with the crispness of the veggies. Oh yeah, he thought, never talking with his mouth open. That’s the stuff. Juices dripped down his chin as he savored every bite. Sure, he was making a mess, but he didn’t notice or care! A burger of this quality was meant to be enjoyed. Curiously, halfway through his burger, he started getting really hot. He drank more and more of his Lavaburst, failing to notice it wasn’t working. Sweat began to stain his pants and mark the location of his asscrack. It soaked through and started seeping through the material! Toffey didn’t care, though; his meal was the priority.
The crunch of the veggies filled his mind as more sweat soaked his body, leaving his glistening like a freshly candied strip of bacon. His entire body shimmered with the mysterious sweat, soaking through his hoodie, leaving serious underboob and armpit stains. A smell wafted through the dining room. The few other customers noticed it and looked around, thinking the kitchen was having some issues and not liking the smell. One by one, they got up and left, leaving Toffey the lone diner. He crumpled up the burger’s wrapper and started working on the fries. Their crisp outside and soft, fluffy insides were nothing short of perfection. He couldn’t resist taking several fries at once and shoving them into his mouth. As Toffey devoured them, he failed to notice how his stomach was inflating. Gurgling and making other grotesque sounds, it filled with not only the food but the excess sweat he was secreting that failed to seep through his pores in time. The mingled concoction of sweat, Orange Lavaburst, and fast food was causing gastral buildup. His asscrack only got sweatier and sweatier, practically pouring more of the sweat into his now entirely soaked shorts and onto the plastic booth beneath him. Droplets of sweat spilled onto the floor, forming a pool of viscous, thick fluid.
“Now,” he said with seriousness. “You.” Toffey looked at the cookie and licked his lips. The wax paper was quickly ripped away as he tore the cookie in half. Stings of chocolate pulled apart as he separated the two halves. S.B. had even warmed it up for him; how nice! The rich, chocolatey taste overtook the remaining savory flavors of the burger and fries as he shoved half of the cookie into his maw. A pool was forming now beneath him, glistening beneath the fluorescent lights of the restaurant. Toffey’s entire back was soaked in sweat, all leading down the dampest point: his ass crack. It was like he took a shower in vitamin E oil, dripping with a golden liquid onto the floor. His sweat had taken on a different smell. Not of the food he had just eaten, but very oily.
Toffey shoved the last of the cookie into his mouth and slurped what was left of his Orange Lavaburst. “Hmm,” he gave a sigh of relaxation. “Get a refill, and I’ll head home.” He got up and nearly slipped, clinging to the back of the booth. “WHOA! Wet floors.” He cautiously took steps away from the booth, leaving his trash at the table, and made his way to the soda fountain.
By then, everyone had cleared the floor, and S.B. took the opportunity to bus some tables, as Robbie was still having his breakdown. She carried her brown tub up and down the aisles, dumping the trash into it and placing the trays on the edges of the tables. “At least this job has hours of quiet,” she mumbled as she cleaned up after the customers. A smell wafted past her. Panic shot through her. “Oh god, is the fryer boiling over again?!” She turned frantically to check the kitchen. Everything seemed fine. Jeremy was frantically cleaning and prepping more veggies for the dinner rush. “So where is that,” she turned, “smell,” she saw Toffey at the soda fountain, a trail of golden pawprints behind him, “coming from?” Why was he soaked to the bone? Did he spill something accidentally? She strode to the back where Robbie sat and nearly fell over. “Oh, my god!” She thought children were messy, always flinging the paper cups of ketchup across the room. “What happened here?!”
It was a disaster area. Some kind of thick, golden liquid coated the booth! Not only that, but it had pooled all over the floor beneath it, too! She had no idea what to make of it. There was a clear trail of pawprints leading toward the front, directly toward that nice Pallas cat from earlier. “Wait a sec…” S.B. backed up a few steps, then ran for the office.
“What should I get this time?” Toffey was debating. As much as he enjoyed the Orange Lavaburst, he should try to get something else. There was always cola, but that was too boring. He did just have a big meal, maybe ginger ale would be a good choice? “Wait, they have Powerade on tap?”
“See?” S.B. pulled a very reluctant Robbie toward the crime scene. “What the heck is this?!”
Robbie stared at it with amazement. “Dear god,” his mouth was wide open. “What the hell happened here?”
“I. Don’t. Know,” S.B. made her point very clear. “How do you expect me to clean this when I don’t even know what it is?”
“Did you inspect it at all?” Robbie asked, knowing the answer would be no. He wouldn’t want to touch whatever that is, either. There was a strong smell in the air. A very distinct smell.
“Hell no!” S.B. protested. “What if that’s like, toxic, or like, it burns fur?!” Robbie ignored her complaints and stepped forward to do it himself. He has smelled this before, but where? Dipping a finger in it, he learned that whatever this was, it was warm. “I don’t know, but I think one of the customers stepped in it or something. See that trail there?” He continued to ignore her prattling. Alarm bells were ringing in his head. He knew what this was, but where did it come from? Curiosity got the better of him. Slowly and cautiously, he brought his finger to his mouth and tasted the substance with the tip of his tongue. S.B. gagged, nearly barfing.
“This is oil,” Robbie said plainly. “Fryer oil. Did someone get into our supply?” S.B. was too busy trying not to get sick to answer. He sighed and stood up. There was a trail. “Clean this up, won’t you, S.B.?” We have kitty litter in the back for grease and oil spills. That should help.” He didn’t stick around to get her answer. The trail led to the soda fountain, where a small pool of it was left, and then another trail led out the door. Robbie ran, following it out the inner doors, then the outer doors, then outside. A massive Pallas cat was waddling over to his car, dripping more of the stuff onto the pavement. “HEY! YOU!” The cat didn’t turn around. Shit! Robbie sprinted to catch up just as the cat was opening his door. “HEY!” he panted heavily. The cat turned to look at him. He found himself in a pickle. The correct thing would be to confront him about the mess he made, but that never went well. Everyone denied it despite having the camera footage to back it up and everything. He had the proof this time, but his gut was telling him he was being given a golden goose. He just had to work it just right.
“Hi,” Toffey said to Robbie, completely unaware that he was panting and flustered.
“Hello,” Robbie was caught off guard by how polite this cat was being. “I, um, I’m so happy I caught you. You see,” SHIT! THINK FAST ROB! “Our computer didn’t flag you correctly. You were our 10,000th customer!”
“Whoa!” Toffey nearly dropped his refill of Sprite/Powerade hybrid drink. “Do I win anything?”
“Why, YES!” Robbie was getting into his smooth PR persona. “The lucky winner gets, um, a job offer! AND free Gigantos FOR LIFE!”
Toffey was floored. “You can’t be serious!” His fat body juggled with excitement. “A job AND free food?!” He did drop his drink this time. “When do I start?How do I get food?Is it limited per day?How does this work?” He shot off questions at a rapid rate, not pausing to breathe.
“You can start right now,” Robbie said with his slickest grin. “We’ll get all that pesky paperwork done later.” He grasped Toffey’s hand. “But first, let’s talk.” He drew Toffey away from his car and toward the back entrance. “You see, we here at Gigantos care about our employee’s health. Now, don’t mind me saying this, but you could use some work there, kiddo.”
“I suppose I have put on a few pounds.” Toffey looked down at his bulging belly, grasping it and jiggling it. “You think you can help?”
“Kiddo, I’d be more than happy. In fact, we can start that first. Paid, of course.” They reached the employee entrance and went inside. “What could be better than paid exercise?”
“I can’t think of anything else!” Toffey laughed, shaking his entire body with his guttural, joyful laugh. A loud, deep burp shot from his mouth, lasting longer than any burp should. “Oh, excuse me.”
Robbie briefly showed a face of disgust but wiped it away, replacing it with his charismatic, businessman smile. “So, let’s get started.” The back room was nothing special: red tile floor, silver plated walls for the walk-in cooler, and a mess of cleaning supplies in the corner by the faucet. “Uh,” he said to himself, trying to find something to gather the fatass’s sweat in. Luckily, there was an inflatable pool that had been used as a temporary dump area when the drain was clogged with grease. “Ok, hop in this pool,” he said as he dragged it into an open area. “Jumping jacks. Give me lots of 'em.”
“But, how many?” Toffey asked as he climbed in.
“Until I say you’re done.” Robbie started walking away. “And I’ll know if you stop.”
“Oh, okay.” Toffey sighed and started exercising. It didn’t take long for the sweat to flow once more. Drop by drop, the pool began to fill. His fat jiggled and shook like jello in an earthquake. He didn’t hate exercise, but he wanted a good reason to work out, and this was as good a reason as any.
Toffey’s panting could be heard from the grill line, where Jeremy was blasting hard rap. Jeremy peered around the corner and saw an unfamiliar face exercising in the back room. “ROB!” He shouted, turning down his music. Robbie shot over, holding a finger over his lips. “Don’t shush me! Why is some fatass jumping around in the back like we’re Planet Fitness?”
“Trust me, you’ll see in a bit. In about an hour, can you get three Macho Burgers going? With everything, please.” Robbie slinked away, running into his office. Jeremy learned not to ask too many questions.
It had been an hour, and very little of Toffey’s golden sweat had filled the pool. There was only enough to cover the bottom. Robbie made his way around the corner, happy to see how his new money-maker was doing. He hid something behind his back. “Hey, champ. How’s it going?”
“I think I’m doing good,” Toffey said with heavy breaths, his body fat still jiggling. “Hey, um, can I have a break?”
Robbie looked in the pool, disappointed in the results, his face more honest than his words. “Yeah, take a break there, bud.” He pulled out what was behind his back. “In fact, why not take advantage of that free food you won?” In his hands were three fresh, piping-hot Macho Burgers. “Eat up, Mister 10k.”
“OH YAY!” Toffey snagged the burgers and hastily unwrapped one of them, holding the other two in his free hand. He sunk his teeth into the first one, thinking it tasted even better since it was free. Immediately, the golden sweat began seeping from his body. It flowed over his clothes and into the pool, dripping rapidly. “Oh, so good.” He destroyed the first burger so quickly that Robbie didn’t have time to process what was happening. All he could do was watch the second burger be eaten. More sweat seemed to pour from his ass crack like a fountain. Toffey ripped into the third burger as Robbie slipped around behind him.
Holy shit, he thought as he watched a steady stream of golden sweat flow from his ass crack. Toffey was none the wiser to his staring as he demolished the third burger, sauce covering his maw. It’s when I feed him! This was gonna be easy. All that was needed was a test run of this new oil. The pool was already half full from just three burgers. There was no telling whether or not he’d be able to eat more. “Tell ya what, kid.” You can go home for the day. I gotta get that paperwork started.” He needed time to test this new discovery. “We’ll get all that done first, then get you started.”
“You sure?” Toffey asked, wiping his face and smearing special sauce and sweat.
“Absolutely. We’ll let you know.” Toffey Stepped out of the pool, not realizing how sweaty he was. “We’ll be in touch.” He sent Toffey on his way out the back door, leaving another trail of greasy sweat behind him.
S.B. came in the back carrying a garbage bag. “I finished cleaning that booth. Thank god no one came in during that. I had no idea how to explain…” She saw another trail leading outside and the swimming pool filled with golden sweat. “I’m not cleaning that one.”
Later that night, Toffey sat at his desk. He thought for hours about a game he had that could test his new hand-eye coordination that FPSPLUS was somehow improving. “What game do I have that requires precision timing and coordination?” He looked through his Steam library until he finally found one he had. “ATLYSS!” It had been a while since he had played, too; this would be the perfect test of the parrying system. He loaded the game, ready for an all-night gaming session—a bowl packed full of chips of his left and a two-liter of soda on the floor. Muscle memory seemed to be returning as he dove into Tuul Valley and found himself surrounded by Rageboars. Their long singular horn protruding from their foreheads tried to ram his character, but he would parry them perfectly at every chance. With new confidence in his abilities, he dove deeper into the valley, only to be surrounded by more enemies! He quickly shoved a handful of chips into his mouth and continued.
Sweat began to pour from his asscrack, coating his gaming chair. The hours passed as enemies were destroyed, and his body got greasier and greasier with sweat. The sun had gone down, but Toffey had sunk deep into the game, his tail swishing with every victory. His sweat pants had met the same fate as his shorts earlier that day - soaked to the bone with slick sweat. He slid around in his chair, slowly losing room to slide around in as the chips filled his belly, inflating it further, sides growing wider and wider, becoming one with the chair. The sounds coming from his motions in the chair mingled with the creaking of the joints and supports from the underside of the chair, the squishing and sloshing not breaking his focus.
Toffey’s belly began to grumble violently, and he took it as a sign to shove more chips into his mouth between parries on deathgels and other such enemies in dungeons. The slick line of sweat that had rode up his back once more was moving as if sentient! It slid to the front of his body, hiding in the fur on his body and spreading more of its greasy body onto Toffey. The rest of the sweat had also started moving, a thick, tall trail leading from his asscrack, spreading up his back like a system of rivers and dispersing all over his body. Soon, his entire body, from the neck down, glistened with the light of his dual monitors. A smell of fryer oil filled the room and permeated Toffey’s nose but did not alert his hyper-focus on his new skills. More chips were shoved in his mouth, covered with a new, greasy flavor that enticed him to eat more. His keyboard was slowly getting covered with sweat, amazingly not seeping between the keys and soaking the motherboard and other sensitive electronics. Even the mouse was getting harder to hold.
Then, the unthinkable happened. Two small tendrils rose from his body. The sweat had taken a physical form and become sentient! They both poked at his nipples, pressing harder and harder. Toffey felt the stimulation on his nipples and easily reasoned it away. “Oh, the designs on these characters are getting me hot and bothered.” When he was creating his character, he gave his Poon, a jackalope-like creature, the largest titties, and ass possible, even turning up the belly to max. The jiggle physics were unreal. He dismissed it and focused on the game, not wanting to die this deep into the dungeon.
The tendrils had gotten enough purchase to penetrate. They flowed into his nipples as easily as water flowed into a crack in a wall. With an ample amount of sweat flowing from his ass, his man boobs didn’t stand a chance. They inflated slowly as the tendrils pumped sweat inside of him, giving him tits as large as his Poon on screen. Another tendril shot out of the sweat surrounding his body. It wasted no time in penetrating his quickly disappearing belly button. As difficult as it was to penetrate a body through a belly button, sentient sweat finds a way. Toffey’s belly began to inflate at a rapid rate as if an air pump was shoved in his rear. With how heavy Toffey was getting, his chair sunk to its lowest point, unable to suppose his growing weight. His belly grew and grew; where he once looked pregnant, he was now on the verge of exploding, sweat and foodstuffs filling his belly.
Lingering alarm bells rang in Toffey’s brain, but he was too focused on the boss to care about what his silly brain could possibly warn him about. What could be more important right now than defeating Lord Kaluuz single-handedly? His sweat pants had enough, ripping, leaving him naked in the wet, sweaty chair.
A horrible creaking sound filled the room. Toffey’s belly had reached critical mass! It filled the space beneath the desk and was forcefully making more. The heavy wooden desk was lifted by his inflated belly, wobbling unsteadily. Toffey began growing as if he had eaten a mega mushroom, the tendrils in his tits and belly button pumping sweat into him in overdrive. The chair didn’t stand a chance. The armrests were the first to go as he grew, bending with the mass shoved between them. Precariously perched on Toffey’s belly, the desk was somehow stabilized as the rest of the fat dispersed beneath him. A puddle of ass-sweat had soaked into the carpet, growing larger and wetter. It seemed to be getting thicker, like a goo or jelly. The sentient sweat saw this and reached out a tendril to absorb it. The sweat inside Toffey became thick and gelatinous like slime, only adding to his weight and becoming jiggly. With one final creak and groan of resistance, the chair fell from the legs, and his fattening body overtook the shattered remains of the gaming chair.
Toffey only grew taller and wider until he reached proportions never before seen! The ceiling was only a foot away from his head, but his hyper-focused mind was too busy with the dungeon boss. Despite his newfound coordination, thanks to FPSPLUS, he couldn’t seem to defeat Lord Kaluuz by parrying alone, but he kept going back and trying. Slime spread to his head and covered his entire body just in time for him to reach the ceiling and plow through it. All noise was muffled, and any force from breaking through the drywall was dispersed. Moonlight met him but did not pull him away from Lord Kaluuz.
The only thing that could break his focus was his arms and legs slowly shrinking into his body with how fat he was getting. However, the slime had a plan for that. Two more tendrils reached out and pulled the controls to him, the long cords of both his mouse and keyboard very forgiving.
Toffey struggled with Lord Kaluuz for the umpteenth time, all the while getting larger and larger. His fat spilled out over his room, taking over anything that came his way and tearing down walls. There was screaming from neighbors and other people watching from up and down the street, but Toffey was still focused. Whenever he was hellbent on getting something done, he did just that. Finally, he met his fate. Lord Kaluuz fell, and a giant chest sat in the middle of the cave.
“YES!” Toffey’s deep, echoing voice rang out over the neighborhood just in time for the electricity to be cut. “What?” He looked around. Why was the moon out? Wait, why could he see the moon? He looked around at all the concerned faces, then at himself. He couldn’t even see his feet! Or his arms, for that matter. He couldn’t see his spilling fat rolls pouring off his body like stagnant waves, ready to cover anything in their path. To him, the answer was simple. “I’ve put on some weight. Robbie was right.” He’d have to report back to Gigantos tomorrow and see if he couldn’t get back on that regimen post haste.
“So, can you do it or not?” Robbie sat in the office talking to a podunk-looking man during the morning prep. A boat of french toast sticks and coffee sat on the cat’s side of the desk as he listened with concern. “I think we found a goldmine here!”
“Yeah, I can do it, but why?” The beige cat seemed off-put by Robbie’s request. “Why should I help your new employee stay fat, and what was it?” He pulled a notepad from a pocket on his wifebeater. “‘Gather as much of his golden sweat as possible.’ Dude, like, what the hell?” He reached for a french toast stick and ate it vigorously. “That sounds like slavery.”
“Milky,” Robbie leaned forward in his chair. “I got some the other day and tried it out for the dinner rush. It’s cleaner than anything I’ve ever had. I can use it for longer, it filters nicely, and it makes every taste amazing.”
“Wait.” Milky paused, half-chewed french toast stick in his mouth. “You mean to tell me,” he started slowly, “that you have that ‘miracle oil’ of yours in the fryer right now?” Robbie nodded with a smirk. “And you offered me food,” Robbie’s smirk grew, “from the fryer.” He looked at the french toast sticks with disgust. “Dude, you’re sick.”
“But they taste amazing!” Robbie stole one and ate it with gusto. “Shee?” he asked with his mouth full. “I whouldn’d eat anyfing I don’t shtand behind.” He swallowed loudly as if to prove a point. “How about that?”
“Hey, Robbie?” S.B. knocked on the door. “You, uh…” She hesitated as she opened the door. “You have a guest? I think?”
“Robbie!” A familiar voice called from outside his office.
“The hell?” Robbie stood from his desk and followed the voice calling him. There wasn't anyone else in the back room. Milky left as well, searching for whoever it was, heading in the opposite direction. “S.B., where the hell am I looking?”
“Rob,” Milke called from the front door in the dining room. “You're gonna wanna see this.” Robbie practically sprinted through the kitchen and vaulted over the counter. Milky was staring out the glass door, his eyes wide.
Robbie caught a glimpse and recognized what it was. “Fuckin…”
“Robbie!’ The voice called again. A towering, neutral-color-furred Pallas cat was outside his restaurant. At least, that's what he thought it was.
The weasel stormed out of the restaurant for a closer look. “Holy hell!” That kid from the other day was outside and had grown 100x his original size! “Kid, what did you do?!” He backed up, unable to see his face.
“I don’t know if your weight loss program works,” Toffey said, booming over the parking lot. “I gained a little weight overnight.”
“Yeah, sure,” Robbie said sarcastically. “A little.” He had to back up nearly to the edge of the road until he could see any fragment of Toffey’s face. “Jeez, I know my food wasn’t healthy, but this is outrageous,” Robbie muttered. “Any idea how this happened?!” He shouted as he walked back. “Better question: how did you get here?”
“I just gained a little weight. Twenty pounds max.” Toffey tried to pat his belly to exaggerate to point, but could only pat his side. “I rolled here. Like any normal person would.” Robbie stopped mid-step, a flabbergasted look on his face. “Do you have any other ideas? I really wanna get to work.”
Milky came out of the building, unsure of what exactly was happening. “Rob, this the guy you were talking about?” Robbie quickly shot a finger to his lips and shot a stern look, knowing that Toffey couldn’t see a thing with his body so inflated. “Oh, it must be.” He looked over the mass of flabby fur in front of him. A smell was in the air. “Is that oil?”
“You smell that too?” Toffey asked with relief. “I thought I was crazy.” Milky rolled his eyes.
Robbie reconvened with Milky in hushed tones. “See what I mean? You got any ideas?”
“For what?” Milky returned his hushed tone.
“I need that sweat of his. Don’t lie to me, Milky,” he poked him in the chest, “You didn’t spit out my food.”
There was a fierce debate going on in his head. Am I really gonna let Rob exploit this kid for some kind of, what, magic sweat? He gazed at Toffey, his fur shimmering like high-gloss varnish in the early morning sunlight. He’s too far gone. There’s no way we can undo this, whatever it is. “Hey, kid,” he called to Toffey. “You’re sure you don’t know what did this to ya?”
“Did what?” Toffey struggled to lean over and look. Instead, he fell over. A small wave of golden sweat splashed as he landed, staining the parking lot.
Milky surrendered. This kid was hopeless, practically begging to be used as a tool. “Ok, what exactly are you planning here, Rob?”
It was a new day for Gigantos, or as it was now known, Giganta Burger. The plan was simple. Since corporate was hard on his ass to cut expenses, he broke the franchise deal, took out a huge, risky loan, and bought the restaurant outright. One rebrand later, they were back in business. Milky, however, had the short end of the stick. Using his connections with everyone in the city, he built an Ag Barn behind Giganta Burger to house Toffey. What happened inside the barn was not for the public. Luckily, Milky knew plenty of people who would do any kind of work, no questions asked. Giganta Burger’s business was booming. Customers came from miles around for their rebrand and the new menu that claimed to be organic without the expensive price tag. Even the health craze haters were all about it!
Robbie was out by the road, pounding their new sign into the grass with a T-post pounder. After a few minutes of hard work, he stood back and looked over his work. The sign read, ‘Made with ORGANIC fryer oil!’ “These health nuts can’t get enough!” He laughed as he carried the pounder back to the barn with him. He input the code to the door of the towering red barn and slid inside. “Hey, there’s my star employee!”
Toffey sat in the center of the barn in the middle of a depressed, tiled area. Around Toffey’s little area, straw covered the floor. The upper level housed several yards of tubing that ran underneath the floor, up through the walls and led to several enormous vats, some filled to the top, one currently being filled, and a few still empty. Toffey was having a burger shoved into his mouth by a lizard man on a ladder. “Hey, Robbie!” He swallowed. Three other lizards were dragging squeegees through his fur, dragging his sweat down onto the floor and into the various tubes that lined the walls. Milkers were attached to his nipples, catching more of the golden liquid that seeped from them continuously. They had started grooming thicker and longer, freakish, really. “Good news! Leonard told me that I’ve lost weight!” He pointed to the big screen on the wall. Large red numbers displayed a number in the triple digits, reading 936. “I lost three pounds!” Not like it really mattered. Over the month of renovations, he had only grown. With every burger, he would sweat like mad and gain ten pounds! His bubble butt would only get larger as well, putting those thirst-trap girls on social media to shame.
“Wow, that’s awesome, kid.” He dismissed his optimism by waving it away. “Leo!” A green gecko shot his head up. “What’s our yield?”
“109 gallons so far, sir.”
“Good. Keep feeding my boy here.” Robbie looked at Toffey the way a farmer looks at a prized pig. “Gotta keep up his regimen, you know.” He hung up the T-Post pounder on a pegboard wall by a tool bench on the far wall. “Markus!” Robbie pointed to a grey gecko that sat at a desk. “Walk with me.” The aged-looking lizard rose and approached him with a binder, knowing full well what Robbie was expecting from him. “Talk to me. How’s that deal with King Burger and MickeyD going?” They made their way to the end of the barn, far from Toffey, not like he’d overhear anyway.
“They’re skeptical, sir,” the gecko handed Robbie the folder. “They’re willing to introduce the fryer oil in a few of their locations as a test. MickeyD is afraid it’ll go the way their AI drive-thrus did, and you and I both know how that went.”
“10,000 nuggets.” He flipped through the folder. It showed all the locations that they were willing to offer as a test location.
“And KingBurger is very interested.”
“Maybe it’ll make their slop taste better.” He handed the folder back. “Ramp up production to provide their requested supply. We need this deal.” He was already offloading all the excess oil to the local restaurants in the area, but Toffey was still producing too much!
“But, Rob,” the gecko protested. “What about Toffey?”
“He can take it.” Robbie punched in the code for the far door. “He’s a big boy.” He left the ag barn, having to fulfill his role as manager.
Markus went back to his desk, stopping briefly to see Leo shoving burgers into Toffey’s mouth, and Toffey was not complaining. All the while, the golden sweat that flowed from his body continued to flow the two other geckos on constant squeegee duty, especially around Toffey’s asscrack, where the sweat practically gushed. Markus could have sworn as he sat down that he saw Toffey’s body jerk, getting larger in one sudden outward burst. Nah, he must have been imagining things.
Robbie sat in his revamped office, leaning back in his chair. The TV was turned down for some background noise as he continued his manager duties. “Ugh, I should really hire someone to do this.” He had been practically trapped in his office for the last few months, taking calls from corporate offices and the media. His new discovery of Organic Fryer Oil had taken the world by storm, and everyone wanted to know the story. Of course, he couldn't tell them about how he discovered some cat with a medical condition or something and was harvesting sweat, so he came up with some hokey story of how he and a team of scientists had been working on it for years. On top of that, there was talk of expanding! Imagine leaving a franchise to become a franchise himself.
The phone rang. Usually, he ignored them nowadays if they weren’t scheduled calls, but the caller ID caught his attention. He grabbed the phone. “Milky! What is it, my man?”
“Are you watching the news?” Milky sounded concerned. “I know you have a TV in that dungeon of yours.
“Why?” He laughed arrogantly. “Is the McRib back?”
“No, turn on ZZM19.”
He scrambled around, searching for the remote beneath the mess of papers on his desk, and found it, turning up the TV.
“Local news report. The THO, or Turnerville Health Organization, is inspecting the new Organic Fryer Oil sourced from our local and booming fast food restaurant, Giganta Burger. Their reports claim that obesity rates have skyrocketed amongst patrons of Giganta Burger, specifically those who have eaten fried foods from the restaurant.” Images of local people flashed across the screen behind the newscaster. They all looked like little Toffey’s, but not nearly as round, still having use of their limbs. “‘The evidence is clear, Hubert Cambridge, president of the THO says, ‘that Giganta Burger’s oil substitute is causing negative health effects on its patrons. We plan to find out what it is and the source of it. We urge you not to order any fried foods from Giganta Burger until we receive confirmation of the source.’ Well, that is alarming. I just had a Cheeseburger and fries before I got to work today.” The newscaster went silent. “Um… on to sports…”
“Oh, please, Milky.” Robbie didn’t sound phased. “Are you gonna let some health nuts try and stop us? We’re making bookoo bucks on this deal! You and I both know Organic, cage-free, grass-fed, and all that shit is just another way to up-charge because it’s extra steps!”
“I don’t know, Rob,” Milky said hesitantly. “These guys mean business. Remember Fat Paulies back in ‘83? They shut him down real fast because everything was too unhealthy.”
“Fuck. The. THO. Milky.” Robbie didn’t want to have this conversation. “If they want a piece of me, they can come and get me. They know all this bullshit as well as I do.”
“Look at your customers, Rob!” Milky shouted through the phone. Rob held the phone away from his face. “They’re all gaining weight! I’m gaining weight! YOU’RE GAINING WEIGHT!” Rob looked down at himself. Sure, he had a bigger tummy than in the past, but he had been eating more food from the restaurant lately. So what? “I’ve gone up three pants sizes since working with you on this project. Haven’t you noticed?” Silence. “Face it, Rob. There’s something with that sweat that’s making people fatasses and you just don’t want to lose your cash cow. HAve you even checked on Toffey lately?”
Robbie looked confused. “Who’s Toffey?”
“THE CAT IN THE BARN!” Milky screamed. “THE ONE YOU’RE EXPLOITING FOR PROFIT!”
Robbie slammed the phone back on his base. Now, he was angry. There was only one thing for it. He got up and left his office. As usual nowadays, the dining room was filled with a line out the door. All the extra employees he was able to hire kept the place running smoothly. Finally, Jeremy could cut the energy drinks by half, and S.B. could relax a bit, too, not even to mention their promotions to back-of-house and front-of-house managers, respectively. Everything was running smoothly, all thanks to Toffey. However, with a quick look at the customers, they all looked pretty round, even his employees. An alarm bell went off in Robbie’s head, but he dismissed it. “Hey, Jeremy, I’m heading to the barn for a second!” Robbie shouted as he left out the back door.
Robbie hadn’t been up to the barn in a while. All those interviews with news outlets and whatnot. He should have been up there sooner. As he entered, he nearly fell over. Toffey had grown exponentially, now hitting the ceiling! His nipples were nearly two feet long now, and the milkers were more like pencil top erasers. His bubble butt had even reached massive sizes. Robbie could probably cram himself inside one of his cheeks! “HOLY SHIT!”
“Robbie?” A deep voice asked. “Is that Rob?” It wasn’t any of the geckos who were busy squeegeeing off the excess sweat. Unlike his customers and employees, they were fit as a fiddle. Markus was at his desk making calls to suppliers.
Robbie navigated to the far end of the barn where Toffey could see him. “Yeah, kid. I’m here!” He waved his arms. At the far end, he could finally see his face, recessed into his fat, inflated body. He looked like a blimp crammed into the barn! “How long has it been, kid?!”
“A few months, I think.” Toffey’s fur had taken on a permanent golden hue now, stained from his sweat. “Markus told me you were busy with expanding and other stuff, so I just waited.”
“Why didn’t they tell me you were gettin’,” he stopped before he said bigger, “so small? You’re doing great, kid!”
“Am I really?” Robbie was unable to smile, his fat, pudgy cheeks too big to move. “That’s great!”
“Robbie, it’s about damn time you get here.” Markus stormed over to him and shoved a manilla folder into his hand. “I’ve been documenting his growth over the last few months. We gotta stop.”
“What do you mean?” Robbie opened the folder and analyzed Markus's growth chart. “Say,” he paused to ask a question. “Why aren’t you guys, uh, round?” Markus looked at him with a serious expression. “I’ve been noticin’ that, uh, all my customers have been gettin’ awful big.”
“So you have noticed,” Markus said plainly. “We make it a habit to not partake of the livestock we work with.”
“Oh.”
“Anyways,” Markus opened the folder for him and pointed to key points. “As you can see, these spikes in growth were when we struck deals with companies, and you told us to ramp up production.” Robbie gazed at the numbers in shock. “You brought him to us at about 700 lbs; now he’s off the scale!” He pointed to the gauge on the wall that showed only dashes. “If we keep doing this, who knows what will happen? It’s a wonder his heart is still beating.”
“What do you suggest then?” Robbie asked, closing the folder. More alarm bells rang.
“Obviously, we get a doctor in here and find out what’s going on. This isn’t normal, I don’t have to tell you that. Sweat isn’t supposed to smell or act like fryer oil.” Markus clenched his fists. “This is right out of a movie or something. Absolutely unreal!”
“I just made a deal with Five Dudes, though. Do you know how hard it was to get them to quit using peanut oil? That’s their thing!”
“Do you want to lose your source completely?” Markus gave Robbie a hard stare.
Robbie sighed heavily. “No, I guess not. Wrap up current orders and cancel any that haven’t been started yet.” He started walking away. “I’ll see if Milky has any connections to doctors for…” he paused and looked at Toffey. “Whatever this is.”
A rumbling shook the ground. Everyone in the barn steadied themselves, the three geckos on ladders on sweat duty jumping off immediately. “I don’t feel sho good…” Toffey moaned. The shaking intensified. A loud grumbling, like an upset stomach, filled the barn.
“Oh no,” Markus said as if he knew this would happen. “RUN!” The geckos bolted, leaving a confused Robbie at the far end of the barn. Toffey’s body began expanding and broke through the barn ceiling, the cracking of wood not audible over the rumbling. The geckos were struggling with the door as Toffey grew larger and larger. The door must have locked; the code wasn’t working! “SHIT!”
Robbie ran for the other door and found it had also locked. As Toffey continued growing, his fat expanded, spilling over his body like waves of flesh. Four distinct cries were heard for only a moment before being cut off. More wood was shattered. A cold breeze rushed through the half-destroyed Ag Barn. Robbie could see the waves of Toffey flesh coming closer and closer. “Robbie, my tummy hurts!” Toffey’s voice only deepened as he grew, like a giant in a cartoon. “Robbie?”
“This is what I get…” Robbie sighed as he accepted his fate. Fat rolled over his body, smothering him in wet, greasy sweat and the weight of his growing body.
Outside the Ag barn, customers were spilling out Giganta Burger. Earthquakes were unheard of in this part of the country; what’s going on? They got their answer when they saw Toffey growing only larger and larger, destroying the barn that sat behind the restaurant. Shrieks of horror filled the air as customers fled to their cars, hoping to escape. The mass of people was too much, and a pileup was quick to form, a truck with oversized tires the culprit. Everyone tried to escape on foot instead, but their fat bodies couldn’t maintain a run. Toffey only grew larger and larger, his fat spilling over him. It wasn’t long before the gurgling feline mass had destroyed Giganta Burger. Luckily, everyone escaped.
“My tummy hurts!” Toffey cried as his body seemed to hasten its expansion. The gas station and car wash next door were no match for the towering, two-ton mass of fat that spilled over it; cars and people that couldn’t get away were crushed in his wake. Even the Walmart couldn’t stand up to him. The automotive department was the first to be destroyed by waves of furry lard flowing through the aisles like customers on Black Friday. Helicopters were in the air, their spotlights shining on Toffey’s body. News copters, the National Guard, first responders, and anyone who could be called were called to the scene.
Kathy Winters, an Axolotl reporter for the local news, stood in a helicopter describing the carnage. “This is a very disturbing scene to watch. Some enormous mass of flesh is continuously expanding and destroying everything around it. Buildings, vehicles, everything!” Even the cool-headed reporter was getting flustered. “We advise that if you live within a thirty-mile radius of the Giganta Burger, to evacuate immediately!” The helicopter was suddenly smashed by something off-camera, and it went down.
Toffey’s sweat had become sentient once more, protecting its host with a mind of its own. “OWWIE!” Toffey screamed, his growing tummy still aching from all the junk food he had been fed over the past months. He had gotten so fat, not just because of his surprise growth spurt, but in his time ‘working’ for Robbie, that he had lost his vision entirely because his cheeks were so puffy. Hoping to remedy its host, the tentacles snagged any food it could grab. Snack cakes emerged from underneath his belly, the slime that covered his body sliding out from underneath him and into his mouth. Destroyed burgers and assorted food items climbed up his body as if a whole colony of ants were carrying food into their home which was his mouth. The tentacles grabbed food items from the Walmart shelves before its host covered up the shelves. “OWWW-” His cry was cut short by the foodstuffs being horked down his throat. Whatever it was that was shoved into his throat always tasted like Giganta Burger thanks to the layer of his sweat that coated it. “MOOOOOOOOAR!” His tummy ache was seemingly alleviated by the new ‘food’ he was given, and he craved more—his tentacles, which he didn’t even know he had, were more than willing to accommodate. Tortillas, boxes of cereal, bottles of sauces, anything the tentacles could get their hands on before it was destroyed was promptly shoved into Toffey’s mouth. Any thing they missed was slowly pulled from underneath him by the slime and pulled up to his mouth. The Walmart was soon completely destroyed, as was the entire strip by the highway; Texas Roadhouse, Bdubs, Starbucks, and Tropical Smoothie Cafe, all of those that had fried foods used his sweat as frier oil already, only adding to his growth.
Foolish rubberneckers were pulled over, recording the scene on their phones. The tentacles grabbed their phones before they could save the videos and post it to social media. The fools lamented the loss of their devices for seconds too long before the Toffey Blob covered them. “BWAAAAAH! MOOOOOOAR!”
Police vans pulled in to barricade the road, but they stood no chance. Once the officers left their vehicles, the tendrils wrapped around them and flung them aside, and their vehicles were crushed under Toffey’s rippling fat rolls spreading across the city. The gurgling of his stomach could be heard from half a mile away, even over the five-mile-long line of cars on the main road waiting to get on the highway. One by one, Toffey’s flesh rolled over a car at a time, trapping the occupants underneath. Those who decided to ditch their cars and run were not fast enough and were squished. Every building within a three-mile radius wasn’t safe. Toffey had covered the business district and nearly half of the residential area and kept going!
As the sun went down, Turnerville was destroyed. Anyone who had managed to escape made no plans to go back. Whatever it was that had destroyed the place was bound to be there still if they tried. For weeks, reporters from every major news outlet stood at least a mile away from the mass and showed the same thing that was on every station. “A hyper blob has destroyed Turnerville!” Helicopters had to fly higher than the tentacles could reach to get an aerial view.
“We have the exclusive scoop on the Blob of Turnerville,” said one reporter for VZN. “Thanks to our skilled drone operator and some lucky breaks, we were able to hold an interview with the blob himself!”
“Hi,” the camera cut to a feed of Toffey’s puffed-up face.
“This is Toffey. Rather, the Turnerville Blob. Toffey, how did this happen?”
“I don’t know,” Toffey said plainly. “I was just gaming one day, and I realized I had gained some weight. It happens. So I went to my new boss, Robbie… uh… I don’t know his last name, and he started me on a weight loss thing.”
“And how did that turn out?”
“Well, I don’t think it worked. I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“And that was all we could get before something smashed the drone. We at VZN are looking into Robbie to get to the bottom of this. Otherwise, Toffey lives on in his ordinary life. He somehow has a huge monitor and a gaming setup that he uses to pass the time. Brave delivery drivers deliver him food, hoping that they don’t trigger a growth spurt and get crushed. Meanwhile, scientists are looking to find a cure for this very unusual situation. We also have an interview with Robbie’s business partner. We have his face blurred and voice altered for privacy reasons.”
“I told him it was a bad idea from the start.”
“This is Robbie’s business partner, who wished to remain anonymous.”
“The moment he told me what was really going on, I knew I shouldn’t have said yes. Hell, I should have told someone. But Toffey was already so large at that point. He was twice as tall as the building!” Milky sighed, not playing it up for the camera but feeling genuine remorse. “You should have seen the whole thing. All that fryer oil we were distributing? You don’t wanna know what that actually was.”
“But we do. Look at yourself. You’re terribly unhealthy, just like half of the survivors of the incident!”
He looked away, seemingly at a lawyer or someone in charge of him. Shooting a nasty look, he returned to the camera. “They need to know. Organic is a scam—especially fryer oil. This was NOT oil of any kind. That blob over there?” He pointed to Toffey far in the distance. “It was his sweat.” The reporter gagged. “Yeah. It tasted like oil, didn’t it? We don’t know why it did. Not even Toffey knows why. It’s gotta be something abnormal. That doesn’t just happen overnight. But I’d avoid all the fast food in the area for a while. Make sure they’re using actual fryer oil again.”
Back in the studio, the news anchor was looking rather green. “Holy moly.” She covered her face, swallowing her vomit. “That was terrifying. We’ll keep our viewers updated as we learn more information. Our hearts go out to poor Toffey. Hopefully, we can find a cure for whatever happened.”",
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