Phantom of the Fear Factory

Sulley, as Monsters Inc.'s new CEO, opens up an abandoned old factory to increase output, unconcerned with the rumors of hauntings and the increasing waistlines of his employees... Enjoy this month's monstrous offering, everyone! Happy Halloween!

                                 ***********************************************************

“Mr. Sullivan! Mr. Sullivan!” a reporter called out during the press conference outside Monsters Inc.’s newest factory. “What do you say to the checkered past and rumors of hauntings about these premises?”

The CEO of Monsters Inc., James P. Sullivan, chuckled good naturedly. A burly, furry beast with blue fur and horns, he had once been the top scarer in Monstropolis, and now was the biggest pioneer in laugh-based energy. An imposing figure from afar, up close, it was hard not to see him as cuddly; when he wasn’t roaring or tearing through metal, he had a great smile and a friendly demeanor. “Look, I’m still not really all that much of a businessman, but I can say that we don’t make business decisions at Monsters Inc. based on superstition. Come on, we’re all grown up monsters, here. There aren’t any ghosts at the Moorphere Factory.”

“And what do you have to say about early studies that suggest long-term exposure to laugh energy can cause health issues like involuntary weight gain?” another reporter shot back.

Sully laughed. “Guys, really? Those studies were funded by Fear Co. and Scream Industries. We’ll talk about that another time, for now, I’ve got a factory to run. Thank you for your time!” He waved as reporters called after him and cameras flashed. Sully’s smile slipped off, and he let out a loud, low groan as he stepped backstage.

“You don’t really think there’s anything to that whole weight gain thing, right?” Mike Wazowski, Sully’s best comedian and friend, asked nervously. “I don’t want anything to happen to my figure, especially with Ceilia expecting a certain question soon, if you get my drift…”

Sully slowly arched a brow as he looked down at the green monster. “Mike. You’re a beach-ball with an eye, what’s a few extra pounds going to do to your figure?” 

“Well, I don’t know! I could get all lopsided or something, all blobby like Roz, then what’re you going to do? Roll me through the doors to tell jokes?”

“If it comes to that, we could just get bigger doors.” Sully smirked as they entered the Moorphere Factory; it was a very old building, with red brick walls and tall, gothic looking windows. It was the first scream factory in Monstropolis, easily hundreds of years old, but had been abandoned with the establishment of Monsters, Inc. Now, the company was going to give it new life as the city’s second laugh factory.

“Hah, you’re hilarious. Really. Maybe you should just run the laugh shift, visit every kid in the world,” Mike quipped. “They got some sorta monster that does that, Sandy Claws, I think? Eh,” he waved it off, “I heard that from some punk kids in masks.”

Sully walked down the cavernous warehouse for the door assembly lines, now retrofitted with the latest technology. He was listening to Mike go on, when suddenly he heard it- a child’s laughter, echoing off the walls. “What the-? Mike, did you hear that?”

“Hm?”

“A kid laughing.”

Mike shrugged. “Probably some of the cannister jockeys being clumsy and let one slip. Don’t stress yourself out, you’ve been working too hard, big guy.”

“Right…” Sully glanced over his shoulder, certain he felt something pass him by. “Yeah, just stress. Listen, I’m gonna extend my time here. I’ll be back at the main factory in a few weeks, just wanna make sure everything runs smoothly after the grand opening. Keep tearing up the laugh floor, and tell Ceilia to let me know if there’s any problems.”

“Psht, with your trusty Vice President and Top Comedian running the show, it’ll run like clockwork,” Mike said proudly. “Just try not to let yourself get flabby sitting on your laurels, Mr. Bigshot CEO.”

“Hah,” Sully elbowed his friend. “See ya later, Mike.”

“Here’s the reports for our first day, Mr. Sullivan; we just hit our quota,” a red, spiny monster announced as he handed Sully a clipboard halfway through Moorphere’s first day as a laugh floor.

“Hm?” Sully looked up from his lunch, a rather large sub sandwich with extra meat; he had been stress eating. “Oh! Great, great,” he mumbled, wiping his mouth. “These numbers look solid, but I wanna see them higher, this place has got to be a roaring success. How’s the new laugh team holding up?”

“They’re in great shape boss, but uh… some of ‘em are a little… distracted.”

“Huh? By what?”

The red monster shrugged. “Oh, just… the rumors about this place. A buncha kids slipping in from the human world and getting lost, their souls trapped here forever… you know the story. Some of ‘em think they hear the kids laughing.”

Sully slumped back in his chair, making it creak. “Give ‘em an extra break tomorrow. It’s probably just nerves being the opening team for a new factory.”

“Of course, boss.”

Sully sighed, turning in his chair to look out his office window opening to the factory floor below. For a factory, it still looked a touch ornate, with the high, pointed windows, the curling, wrought iron columns, and freshly polished floors. It was quiet now, all the comedians and their assistants gone off to lunch. Then, he heard it again; a giggle.

Spinning around in his chair, he scanned his office, his fur standing on end. “Right… just stress,” he muttered, tearing another chunk out of his sandwich.

Sully furrowed his brow as he looked down at the scale, leaning forward to see over his own furry blue gut; there was more of it by the end of the week, he could tell just by squeezing the round ball hanging off his middle.

“Eight hundred pounds,” Dr. Payne, the company physician, muttered, writing the number down on his clipboard with a long, purple tentacle. 

“Wait, what?” Sully’s jaw dropped. “I put on almost forty pounds in one week?”

“Well, have you been getting in any exercise lately? I remember Mr. Wazowski kept you on a pretty rigorous routine when you were scarers,” the doctor commented.

“Uh… well, no, not really,” Sully shrugged.

“And your diet? What’d you have for breakfast before coming in?”

Sully scratched the back of his head unable to look the doctor in the eye. “Uhm. A dozen eggs, a few slices of leftover pizza, and an… extra large frappe, from the, uh. Breakroom.”

“Well, there you go, Mr. Sullivan!” Payne chuckled, patting Sully’s increasingly soft belly with one of his tentacles, causing a slight wobble. “Just cut back on the food, if you’re concerned. Though, I should let you know, I’ve seen a few of your laugh team for their regular check-ups… overall, I’ve seen an average  weight gain of five pounds.”

Sully furrowed his brow. “Really?”

“I don’t want to feed the rumor mill, Mr. Sullivan, but I think we might want to look into that study of laughter causing weight gain.”

“No!” Sully said emphatically. “Look, laughter isn’t dangerous, and I can’t give the naysayers any room to keep trying to knock Monsters Inc. down. I’ll just cut back on the junk food and make sure the team has healthy options in the break room. It’s all just nerves and stress.”

“And have you been feeling stressed?” Payne asked.

“Well…” Sully scratched the back of his head again. “I wake up stressed. But when I’m at work, I’m usually in a really good mood. Everyone is. Though, I sometimes hear laughter. Some of the laugh team hears it, too. I’ve had the canister team double-check for leaks, but they’ve come up empty.”

Payne tapped his clipboard thoughtfully “Well, it’s most likely your imagination. In the meantime, I’d like you to come in next week.” He handed off a slip of paper, and a small pill bottle. “I’m going to prescribe something from the company pharmacy. Should help you with the stress. Take these before your first meal each day.”

“Right…” Sully signed off on the prescription, glancing down at the bottle. It didn’t have a label, save for the company logo stamped on the top. “Thanks, doc.”

“Look, Mr. Sullivan-”

“Sully, please. We’ve known each other since MU, Squish.” Sully offered a tight-lipped grin. Across his desk was a soft, pink monster that was one of his old frat brothers, “Squish” Squibbles. He was looking rounder as of late; everyone was.

“Well, uh, Sully,” Squibbles smiled nervously, squirming in his seat. “I really appreciate the job here, but, uh… I need some time off, for my health.”

Sully sighed. “Look, Squish, if you’re worried about gaining weight…”

“No, no! I- I mean, I am, mom’s made some comments, I’ve had to buy some new clothes, but… I’ve- I’ve been seeing things, in the hallways.”

Sully arched his heavy brow. “Really? What?”

Squish tapped his digits together. “I-I think I’m seeing ghosts. I’ve seen things floating in the cannister rooms, th-this figure with this really scary laugh-”

Sully held up his hand. “Say no more,” he said, his voice a little tight. “Just… take a few days off, Squish.”

“Oh, uh- right, right. Thanks, uhm, Sully,” Squish pulled himself out of the seat, some excess weight bouncing as he trundled out the door. Sully waited until the door closed before gasping for air, as he stopped trying to hold in his gut; a mass the size of a small boulder surged forward, doughy, furry blue flesh pressing up and spilling over the edge of his desk. 

“Nine hundred,” he grumbled, taking a handful of fat and jiggling it. There was another child’s laugh.

“Yeah, yuck it up!” he suddenly roared, bringing his fist down on his desk, splintering the wood. “Dang it!”

Sully hefted himself up, muttering angrily as he glared down on the factory floor. His stomach growled in protest; he was starving. He had hardly eaten anything today in a desperate bid to stave off the weight, but it just kept piling on. Things were getting out of hand; one employee had to be rolled out the door three days ago, Squish was the third one talking about seeing ghosts, and Moorphere’s daily laugh output was plummeting. More studies were pointing to some strange element of human laughter that made monsters bloat, but it didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be that. Groaning heavily, he lumbered out of his office to head home, but then at second thought, turned in the opposite direction, heading for the storerooms. He was going to see this ghost for himself. 

The hallway was narrow, and Sully huffed as he felt either side of his increasingly wide figure brush up against the walls. He moved as quietly as he could, but he kept bumping into laugh canisters, which had been scattered haphazardly in piles all around the place; Sully frowned. He was going to have to talk to the canister jocks after all. There was a small, high pitched sound, just barely loud enough for Sully to hear. 

“Heh,” he huffed, involuntarily giggling. He thought of a joke he heard at the water cooler. “Haha,” he chuckled, his belly bouncing. He remembered when Mikey had-

Wait. This wasn’t right! He was trying to look for a ghost- why was he still laughing? A little wild-eyed, Sully was starting to panic, trundling around the hallway until he heard a loud clatter. Turning around, he saw a sight that made his blood run cold. Floating above a pile of knocked over canisters was a ghoulish face, with big, shining, insect-like eyes, leathery skin, and a long, protruding snout. It breathed haggardly, but when its eyes locked with Sully, it disappeared. The knocked over canisters began floating, and hurled themselves at the blue monster. Letting out a scream he really hope no one heard, Sully bolted, fleeing for his life.

“...Sully? Hey, big guy!” Mike poked his one eye into his best friend’s penthouse apartment. “You in here?” The round, green monster quietly slipped inside, peeking around corners. Finally, he found his friend, a big, furry blue mass raiding his fridge.

Mike blinked, more than a little shocked at the sheer size of his best friend. “You, uh, doing okay, buddy?”

“Factory’s haunted,” Sully grunted, carrying enough food in his arms to feed a small village of monsters.

“...I’m sorry, you want to run that by me again?”

“Factory’s haunted,” Sully repeated. Cradling a huge roast beef in his arms. He collapsed into a chair that was now decidedly too small for him, nearly shattering it right then and there under his augmented bulk; his belly was spilling over his lap in great reams of fat, sagging down to his knees. His arms and legs were swaddled in thick, flabby folds, arms wobbling as he already began stuffing his face, staring out at nothing in particular, making his billowing cheeks tremble with each bite.

“Yeesh,” Mike muttered to himself, seeing all the empty take-out boxes and fastfood bags piled around the place. “When’s the last time you cleaned, pal?”

“Monday,” Sully responded distantly.

“Wha- monday?” Mike cut the distance between him and Sully; up close, he couldn’t even see over the blue mound that was his friend’s overfed gut. Grumbling, Mike hopped up on the plush blob to see eye to eye with his friend. “You mean to tell me that you ate all of this in… what, a day and a night? Have you been eating non-stop since Monday?”

“Uh… UUUUUUURP!” Sully pounded his flabby chest as he let out a monumental belch. “...Yeah, it looks that way.”

“But, Sully! What happened?”

Sully tore off a hunk of meat, gulping it down. “Mikey, whaddya want me to say? I saw a ghost, Moorphere’s in the red, and hey, look at that,” he smacked his gut, sending ripples across his flab that nearly knocked Mike off. “Looks like laughter makes monsters fat after all.”

“Oh, so is that what all these boxes are, Harryhausen’s laughter special?” Mike quipped, crossing his arms.

Sully glowered at him. “Half the laugh team’s on leave because they’ve all been packing on the pounds, Mike! I’ve been starving myself for days trying to stave it off, and it still didn’t work.” He polished off the roast beef, a ham-fisted hand already searching for another snack. “So, hey, might as well go whole hog.”

“Sully, buddy, you can’t just… do this! You’re the CEO, remember? The whole press, the board of directors, they’re all panicking because you went off the grid for a whole day!”

“Why not?” Sully huffed in between fistfuls of chips. “Waternoose was right… I did drive Monsters, Inc. into the ground.”

Mike rolled his eye. “Sully, c’mon! We’ve beaten worse than this. And whatever you saw in the factory, you’re tough enough to take it on… or eat it.”

“Hah.”

“Look, my point is, we can’t give up now. The whole city’s counting on you. You used to be the scariest monster in Monstropolis. And now you’re scared of some ghost?” Mike frowned as Sully reached for his stress pills. “...Hey, what are those, anyways?”

“Moorphere’s physician gave them to me,” Sully explained, popping another pill. He almost instantly stuffed his face again. “Ish shupposhed to help wif stresh,” he slurred, his mouth full.

“Hey, let me take a look at that,” Mike grabbed the pill bottle, looking at the medicine. “Buddy, these aren’t for stress. Ceilia took some of these a while back when she lost too much weight- they’re appetite enhancers, they make you hungry and put on weight like crazy.”

Reality hit Sully like a truck as he bolted upright, his belly sloshing as a cascade of empty wrappers spilled off his body. “What.”

“Who did you say gave you these, again?” 

Not an hour later, Sully forced himself into Dr. Payne’s clinic with as much strength as he could muster, even as his stomach preceded him by at least two seconds. “Payne!”

“Mr. Sullivan!” the tentacled doctor slipped into view. “How can I-”

Wham! Sully knocked the spindly purple monster down. Huffing, Sully glowered over the crest of his belly. “Alright, who is it, doc? Fear Co? Scream Industries?”

“I- I don’t know what you mean-”

“Who paid you? I know you’ve been feeding me appetite enhancers.”

“No one paid me, Mr. Sullivan! I swear!” Dr. Payne held up his hands.

Sully glowered, crossing his arms. “Then why would you do this, huh?”

Dr. Payne chuckled. As he stood up, there was something decidedly off about his movements. His tentacles fell limp, his spine jerked up stiffly in unnatural ways as his eyes and jaw fell slack. “I wanted to practice my ventriloquism.” Sully gasped in recognition as Payne’s voice changed, just before the life-sized puppet fell over. 

“Randall!”

The response was an invisible punch to the jaw that made Sully stumble back. 

“You couldn’t keep up with me three hundred pounds ago, Sullivan, you really want to try now?” Randall gloated, his voice growing farther and farther away.

Snarling, Sully pushed himself out of the clinic, lumbering after Randall. Squeezing through the corridors, he flinched at the sound of groaning, scraping metal, and then the high-pitched squeal of air escaping. As he moved deeper down into the factory, Sully’s lip began twitching, and giggles began slipping out as his eyes went wide; Randall had let out all the laughs, letting it seep into the corridor, clinging to the floor in a visible fog. 

Sully scoffed and sniggered under his breath, trying to keep from laughing.

“Fun fact, Su-lard-ivan,” Randall shouted, his voice oddly garbled. “Laughter does make monsters bloat, with enough exposure. And I’ve been drowning this entire place in it for days. It wears off, but for you, I want to turn you into the biggest laughing-stock in the city. So when the laughing wasn’t enough, I made sure you’d stuff yourself like a pig.”

Sully heard a sinister chuckle, then gripped his middle; his eyes bulged as he saw his already flabby belly starting to bloat. “But now, with you breathing in more laughter than air, I bet the results will be downright explosive.” 

The blue monster groaned, clenching his teeth to keep from laughing as he cupped one hand over his mouth. He could feel his belly bloating out even further, furry flesh pushing his fingers apart as his belly sagged, slapping against his lower legs. His immense hips were pressing up against the walls, and as empty canisters piled up around him, Sully’s lumbering gait slowed to a plodding waddle as he tried squeezing past the debris. His belly had begun to drag along the floor, and he wheezed under the weight.

“Give up! You think there’s any way out of here for you?” Randall appeared, a gas mask secured on his face. “You were always a fat idiot, Sullivan, even back at MU. Without that little green pill coaching you, you would’ve never topped me.” Randall hit Sully in the cheek. “And you just-” a punch to the gut “keep-” another blow, as hard as the reptilian monster could manage. “Failing upward!” A final, devastating strike. “You levelled an entire industry, and for what? Some laughs? Because you got doe-eyed over some stupid human?” Randall was huffing through his gas mask, then finally looked up at Sully.

The blue monster looked completely unphased, even as he continued to slowly fill the highway, stretching and warping the purple spots in his fur. “Uh, fun fact, Randall.” With a huge heave, Sully let himself fall forward, his immense, blubbery mass falling down and smothering Randall in a veritable avalanche of lard. “You could never throw a punch, and thanks to all this padding, I didn’t even feel it.”

“Hurk!” Randall squirmed his way out from under Sully’s fat folds, gasping for air as he tore off his cracked gas mask. “Get off of me, you stupid blue blob!”

Sully, admittedly, got lucky- he wasn’t nearly as fast as he had been, but he managed to snatched his old rival with one well-aimed swipe as he tried skittering away. “You know what, Randall? I don’t think I’ve met anyone that needed a good laugh more than you.”

Randall’s eyes bulged as realization dawned on him. “Wait- wait, Sullivan, no-!” 

Sully just barely managed to heft himself up, and slammed Randall’s head into an open vent. Growling, he used his bestial strength to tie the broken metal pipes around Randall’s snake like body, pinning him in place.

“Don’t go anywhere, Randall. The CDA will be here soon.” Sully snarled, as already Randall’s lithe body began to bloat, inflating like a balloon. 

With a deep sigh, the blue monster slumped, leaning against the wall as he patted the huge shelf of his belly. “You know… I think I earned a snack after all this.”