Meal 6


After the forest, Tagmer and Morris were both relieved that a town awaited them after the forest.  It gave them a chance to rest up, buy more supplied, and most importantly, get some new clothes.

"Well this should last me a while," commented Morris feeling the fabric of his new cloak.  "It is much larger than the old one and I can hold a lot more tools underneath it.  I just hope nobody mistakes me for a circus tent."

"Heh," chuckled Tagmer.  "That's a good one.  But better you have it baggy than too tight.  After all the weight I put on from our trek through the forest we had to take my pants off with scissors.  Thank goodness for my multi-purpose weapon."

"Indeed," agreed Morris.  "We've faced some nasty creatures, but nothing we couldn't handle.  I think that there isn't anything around that can take on the two of us."

"Yeah," added Tagmer.  "At this rate this adventure we're on is going to be over without us breaking a sweat."

"Sir, I've found one it stock," the shop owner states dragging it behind him.  "I knew we had one ogre belt.  I never thought I'd sell this thing, but it looks like you're in luck my friend."

Tag took the belt and checked out the length.  It was at least ten times larger than the belt he had on before.  He had to wrap it around his new pants several times to make it fit.  Still it was necessary that he had it on since his pants would have kept falling down without the extra support.

"Alright," said Morris as he paid the shop owner what they owed for the clothes.  "Now that we're good for a while what shall we do next?"

"How about we grab a bite to eat at the town tavern then go to the inn for some sleep?" suggested Tag.

"Why am I not surprised?" asked Morris.

"I'm not hearing a 'no,'" commented Tagmer.

"Let's just make sure we find one that doesn't smell as bad as the company it keeps," answered Morris.  "It'll make the food taste bad."

"Whatever you say," chuckled Tag.  "Lead the way."

They made their way through the town in search of a place to eat unaware of five cloaked figures entering into town.  The townsfolk cowered in fear as they proceeded down the main road.

"They're close," said the one leading the other four members.  "I can taste it."

"So, when we find them we're going to pound them to a pulp," asked the largest of them.

"No you oaf," said the smallest.  "We're just here to greet them.  It won't be much fun to fight them now anyway."

"I still don't see why we're all needed," hissed the second largest of them.  "One of us is plenty strong enough to handle them."

"You're just being lazy," argued the second smallest.  "We're all thinking the same thing, but some of us know when to take our orders seriously."

"Find then," he growled.  "Let's make this quick so I can get some sleep."

With her previous meal eaten and digested, Obamon had to prepare for her next arrivals.  He patted her frame admiring the new rolls of fat that she had acquired.  Her breasts strained to stay in concealed in her apron.  Her rear was a sight to behold as it jiggled with each step she took and her tail was so large and flabby it dragged on the ground with quite a bit of resistance.

"I've got no time to change," she said to herself as she headed to her closet.  "I've got to prepare for the next two.  But they are going quite a bit faster than I expected and they're a lot more filling than I could have hoped for."

Before long she emerged from her closet pushing out a jukebox and a large can of pain.  The label on the can read "Cartoon Gray."  She placed the jukebox against the wall and plugged it in.  Then she focused on the paint, placing it on the kitchen table and removing the lid.  She grabbed a paintbrush and dipped it in the paint.  Looking around she sighed.

"This is going to be a lot of work myself," she thought.

At that moment Snow the kitty returned and she smiled happily as he purred and rubbed up against her meaty legs.  He mewed happily at her, before jumping onto her lap.  He lied down, getting comfortable against her belly.

"I see you've returned," she cooed.  "But it doesn't look like you found those two.  That's fine.  I didn't think we'd track them down so easily.  But now I have a new task for you to help me with."  Gently, she stroked Snow slowly transforming his shape as he relaxed.  Before he even realized what had happened he was a Gabumon once again, though only as obese as he had been when he first arrived.

"Hi, Obamama," he said as if everything that had happened to him had never occurred.  "What would you like me to do?"

"I need to get ready for some new guests and thought it would be a wonderful thing if you'd help me paint the house."  She handed him another brush and set him down on the floor.

"As you wish," his said saluting her and getting some pain on his forehead.  "Oops."

"Snowie," she told him.  "We'll paint ourselves once everything else is done."

Snow didn't understand what she meant, but helped her paint anyway.  Snow painted the walls while Obamon started painting everything else.  He was a bit surprised what she was doing, but realized there must have been magical properties to the paint first because this was Obamon he was dealing with and second because the stuff started coming to life after it was completely covered with paint.  It wasn't alive in the sense of the two of them, but more in the sense of old fashioned cartoons in which everything was alive from the plants and trees, to the sun and clouds.  Even the furniture was alive with eyes and a mouth feeling merry and dancing in a simple but amusing manner.

Snow was quickly amused by all this and was further motivated to help finish the painting.  They had to go through each and every room of her house, but thankfully the paint seemed endless too so they weren't worried about running out.  Once it was all done they felt tired, but accomplished as everything in the house was alive and dancing.  All that was left were the two of them as Obamon tipped the paint over onto Snow and covered him from head to toe instantly.  He was a little surprised by this, especially because his appearance changed to more resemble an old fashioned cartoon, but that made it all the more entertaining.  When he tried to speak his words didn't come out audibly, but as a screen of text.

"I'm a toon!"

"That's right," she replied.  "But like toons back then you have to speak as such.  You'll get used to it after a while."  She then poured the paint on herself and joined him.

"Now that we're both toons, what next?"

"We wait for our next two guests to arrive."

"Da'gya!" squealed the overly excited Armadillomon as he waddled his way to Obamon's home.  His belly jiggled and bounced with each step.  He wore a tuxedo, though the thing looked ready to burst at the seams.  Beside him was an almost as obese golden retriever who had his slobbery tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"Any reason you're in a tux," asked Logan.

"Isn't it obvious," replied Dillon.  "This whole thing has got to be an excuse to surprise me when they give me an award for excellence in being derpy."

"You really think you're going to win a Derpy?" asked Logan excitedly.  "Maybe me too?"

"Perhaps you're another nominee, but I've got it in the bag," stated Dillon.  "I've even got my socks especially reeking today just for the special occasion."

"No kidding," chuckles Logan looking behind him.  "Everything you touch with your feet is dead."

"Stronger than I thought," stated Dillon.  "When I pressed my sweaty socks against Bolt's face this morning he only got temporary blindness."

"Man, sounds like you're a lot to deal with," smirked Logan.  He jumped onto Dillon's back and nibbled on his cheek.  "Teach me oh fat one."

Dillon squealed like a piggy, excited to pass his wisdom to another fat, smelly-toed critter.  He carried him proudly and sang the tails of all his many derpy adventures as they made their way to Obamon's home.


Tagmer was barely able to slip the plate to the top of the stack of dishes.  Beside him he had created three tall leaning towers of plates from all the servings of food he had just consumed and everyone in the tavern just stared on in awe.  Even Morris was impressed, though he had his stacked a sizeable tower of his own.

"That really hit the spot," sighed Tagmer with delight as he patted his stuffed to the max paunch.  "Think I'm going to order a pie for dessert."

"I thought you'd be full after eating twice your bodyweight in food," chuckled Morris amused by his teammate's insatiable appetite.

"You stuffed yourself pretty good too," commented Tag as he sucked off the juices still on his fingers one by one.  "Does this mean you don't want dessert then?"

Morris paused a moment before he called out to the waitress.  "I'll take a slice a cake."

The waitress nodded as she went to filled their ordered to the dismay of the overworked cooks and chefs who had been on their feet feeding them since they placed their first order.  Still, business had been thriving thanks to them not only from Tag and Shark, but also from all the people who were in the mood for a good meal and an equally entertaining show.  As a result, the whole place was packed and quite noisy with the chatter of people gabbing with one another.  However, the noise didn't last forever when the doors burst open and the five cloaked figures entered.  Everyone grew deathly quiet as they proceeded into the tavern towards Tagmer and Morris who were just as quiet as everyone else, curious as to what was going on.

"I see you two are doing well," said the leader of the group.  "You're looking plumper than ever, but what else could one expect from true gluttons?"

"You know us," replied Morris.  "But who are you?"

"Don't you recognize me?" he replied as he removed his cloak revealing himself to be a skunk and a quite obese one at that.  His gut bulged out bigger than Tag's and he had rolls that drooped down to his thighs.

"Uh, who are you?" asked Tag having never met him before.

"Well maybe you'll recognize me," replied the tallest one, revealing he was a koopa.  Like the skunk he wore the same smug grin that the skunk wore as he looked up and down them like a tender piece of meat.

"Nope," replied Morris.  "Never seen you before in my life."

"For goodness sakes," groaned the smallest one.  "I'm the one they met."  He pulled his cloak off revealing a very plump rat and as Tag and Morris looked at him their eyes widened in surprise.

"Killajor?" Tag asked.  "Is that you?"

"Who else do you know who looks like this?" he teased as he squeezed their moobs with a satisfied look on his face.  They were a little surprised at him and his violating hand gestures, but found it not as unpleasant as one might expect.

"So, did you get pulled in here too?" asked Morris.  "Guess you're here to help us, but who are your friends?"

"I have bad news, good news, and worse news for you," Kill explained.  "The bad news is I'm not here to join you.  The good news is that in this world all my different incarnations are separate entities.  Now there are five of us.  The worse news is we're all your enemies."  There was an awkward silence after that between the two groups.

"Uh, is that a bad thing?" asked Tag as he broke the silence.

"Tell me what you think," rat Kill answered as his hand glowed with magic and he fired a blast at them.  Quick to defend Morris, Tag guarded against the attack with his arm, though the blast sent them both flying across the room.  They crashed into a few tables smashing them to bits before coming to a crash landing.  This terrified the other customers and they quickly ran for their lives.

"That was pretty nasty," groaned Tag pushing some of the debris off of him.  "I didn't think anything could lift us off the ground like that anymore."

"No kidding," added Shark.  "Now could you get your big fat rear off of me?"

"Sorry," apologized Tag as he got to his feet.  As he did he noticed his arm that he used to block the magic attack was swelling with blubber, expanding before their eyes.  It kept getting heavier and heavier making it hard to lift till he was stuck dragging it on the ground like his overweight tail.

Rat Killajor chortled with glee seeing his powers for himself.  "It seems my magic is even more powerful here.  Before I couldn't focus the weight all to one of a target's body, but don't worry, that should redistribute to the rest of your body before long.  Just the fact it leaves you completely vulnerable reveals just how weak you are compared to us."

"So, what now?" asked Morris.  "Are you going to finish us off right now then?"

"Don't jump so far in the script," replied Skunk Kill.  "There is very little merit in finishing you off right now.  Not when you both are still so raw."

"Well what is this story about then?" asked Morris.  "What are we supposed to be doing?"

"Fattening up to become food for our master of course," snickered the Koopa Kill.

"You're not supposed to give away that much," groaned the Skunk Kill elbowing him in the gut.

"You're master's going to eat us?" cried Tag still struggling with his arm pinning him in place.  "Who's that?"

"Sorry, but we've got to go," explained Rat Killajor.  "With that they disappeared in a cloud of black smoke, but his voice continued.  "Come to the Tower of Tacos if you'd like to continue on your journey, but that is a moot point since you have no choice but to do so anyway."

"They're gone," said Morris in surprise.  "Just like that."

"Makes you wonder," commented Tag.  "If they could have just done that, did they really need to use the door in the first place?"

"I think we have more pressing issues than worrying about their methods of transportation," he replied.  "We're on an adventure that is apparently going to end with us getting eaten.  They're probably here just to tenderize us."

"That actually sounds a lot sillier than it probably is," commented Tagmer.

"Yeah, but the idea of fattening ourselves for slaughter does not," argued Morris.  "What's the point of even going on from here?"

"Because we're the heroes," stated Tag.  "We are here to save the world and prove the impossible can be done and any cliche bull, like that."

"You do have a point," admitted Morris feeling his spirits lifting a bit.  "Let's get going.  Those guys just put me in the mood for kicking their butts."  With newly acquired confidence Morris charged out of the bar, assuming Tag was right behind him when he was struggling to drag his arm across the floor.

"Wait for me," he groaned making little progress as he dragged his knuckles.

"Uh, sir, do you and your friend still want your dessert?" asked the waitress.

"Put it in a doggy bag to go," he answered.

"Coming right up," she said as she packaged them away and gave them to him.


Dillon and Logan finally arrived at Obamon's home finding something was out of place, but they couldn't put their finger on the fact that her house and the area around it was colorless as well as all the alive with silly faces.

"Does something seem off to you?" asked Logan still getting piggybacked by Dillon.

"You're right!" exclaimed Dillon in a serious tone.  "The paparazzi aren't here!"

"Maybe they're inside," suggested Logan.

"Da'gya!" squealed Dillon. "They must be in there ready to take pictures of our surprise expression.  Let's get in there and show them how confident we are."

Dillon then made the best confident face he could, but it made Logan red in the face with laughter.  "That expression makes me think someone's using a vacuum sucker on your fat folds," chuckled Logan.

"That's what I was going for," replied Dillon proudly.  "That's the confident expression of a derpy person.  Try it yourself."

"Ok," replied Logan.  He made his own silly confident face.  "How's this?"

"Like somebody is using a squeegee on your butt," commented Dillon.  "Show more dimples and tighten your jaw a bit."  Logan did as he was told. "Perfect, now let's go.  I'm starving for some eats."

"Alright, but let's hurry.  My face is going to freeze like this," commented Logan.  With that they opened the door.  A wave of gray paint splashed over them before they even realized it.  They would have had shocked expressions, but their faces were already stuck in those derpy poses.