"Well, look at what we have here!" Came an unexpected (and unwanted) voice, and Vastos found himself stiffening.
'Please,' he found himself praying to any of the many gods who might be listening, "please not him. Them. Whatever."
"Looks like 'Mr. Trim and Fit' won't be trim for much longer!" Came the same voice, but with a slightly different inflection and tone.
"What are you guys talking about? Vastos is gonna be skinny forever!" The same voice again, but it sounded more cheerful (and dimwitted) this time.
Knowing there was no point putting it off, Vastos sighed and looked at his office door. "Did you need something, Baltos?"
Baltos snickered. Well his middle and left heads snickered. His right head whined that he didn't understand what was so funny and "Why won't you guys ever tell me what's going on?" Baltos was a Cerbian, a three-headed, anthropomorphic dog-man. Cerbians stereotypically worked in private security and law-enforcement, but Baltos was one of the rare ones who'd pursued another field. He was over seven feet tall, and his canine features were reminiscent of a rottweiler. He was also, unlike most Cerbians Vastos had seen (which wasn't that many, actually--they were more common overseas), more than a little bit fat.
Quite a lot fat, actually. His (their? Vastos had never been sure which pronoun was correct, so ‘his’ for now) suit might once have been a perfect fit, but that was at least fifty pounds ago. Probably more. Baltos's beefy shoulders strained the suit jacket to the limit, but even if they hadn't, the jacket didn't have a prayer of closing over his impressively doughy chest, let alone his immense, blubbery belly. His enormous gut spilled over his belt like an overfull industrial sandbag, with love handles large enough to be mistaken for saddlebags and a wide, hefty rump. The Cerbian was ⅔ again as wide as Vastos, at least. Nearly as wide as the office door.
(Vastos’s eyes lingered on Baltos’s beefy chest for a moment–his moobs were like a set of throw pillows sagging atop his mammoth midsection)
“Seriously, guys!” Baltos’s right head whined. “What’s so funny?”
“Zip it, dummy,” the left head said, reaching over and clamping a chubby paw over the right head’s snout. The right head whined pitifully, but quieted.
“So, Vastos,” Middle Baltos said, leaning against the Tiefling’s desk and making it groan beneath his weight. “Looks like Mr. Skinny ate an awful lot of donuts today; you lookin’ to be one of the big boys, shrimp?” He cocked his head and looked Vastos up and down, smirking. “That’s gonna take a lot of donuts, if you want to catch up to me.”
“Like he could,” Left Baltos snickered, still holding Right Baltos’s snout shut. “I’m surprised he’s not laid out with a belly ache after eating all those donuts–especially with that tiny stomach of his!”
That was the weird thing about Baltos: The Cerbian was fixated on being the biggest guy in the room, as well as the one who could eat the most. And he had a hair-trigger need to push down any perceived threat.
“Baltos,” Vastos began with a sigh, “I…”
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