Blubber Beast- Part 4

BB's back on the convention circuit, and it seems he's gained a whole new set of fans- among other things. Enjoy!

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BB had heard from the staffers at the convention that he was one of the biggest attractions on the main floor; that may have been a dig at his slight weight problem, but given how many people were crowding his booth and taking pictures with him, surely that was meant as a good thing, right? He had never felt himself be so popular— or more free. Sure, he had to squeeze into his old battle armor costume again, but if it gave him a chance to advertise his latest production, a dream role as Falstaff in a proper Shakespearean theater company, then he would gladly bear that cross.

His fans seemed particularly… enthusiastic. Oh, to be sure, he was used to people asking him in the old days to flex, a few fan girls— and legions of fan boys— fawning over his pumped pecs and beefy arms, but now they were only happy to give him snacks. They did like watching him eat, however… 

Deep down, BB was a little perplexed as to why he was getting so much attention. He knew, on some level, just how far he had really let himself go— the white lion was as heavy, unwieldy, and round as a snowball that had rolled downhill into an avalanche. He had to parlay with the convention staff to exchange a table for extra chairs strong enough to support his couch-crushing rear, two blubbery globes nearly splitting his pants. He could feel the heft of his enormous, spreading gut flowing out in thick, heavy reams that drooped down to the floor, his flour bag-sized breasts nearly bursting out of his breastplate. Multiple chins pooled around his rounded shoulders, the braided strands of his mane pushed to the side by his round cheeks.

He really didn't need the table; first of all, his gut provided a spacious enough area for him to rest almost anything on, and again, it seemed his new fans preferred it without the table separating him from them. They seemed to like patting his belly, which… odd, for him, but not unpleasant, for the most part.

"Now… Who am I making this out to?" 

"Oh, uhm… how about to 'my favorite morsel'?"

BB arched his brow as he looked up. "I beg pardon?" The white lion sighed, scribbling out his autograph, his overly thick arms wobbling as he signed with a flourish. He glanced at his latest fan, then sighed. "If you want to watch me have lunch, I'm on break in twenty…" BB shook his head. "If you want me to eat something specific, you have to cover that yourself." The white lion took another deep breath. The show must go on…