author: Cyber
SNAP!
SHATTER!
THUNK!
SHHRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIPPPPP
The jailor spat a string of muttered swears in his country’s tongue as he felt yet another belt give way to the ridiculous pressure of his titanic body. This was the third belt he’d burst this month… The wide, heavy belt buckle had blasted off his gut with enough force to not only soundly destroy the unlucky glassware that had been in it’s path, but embedding itself into the wall as well. Not only that, but his prodigious belly had blown a handful of seams around his waist which had taken the brunt of the strain as his gut swelled with the belt’s violent, catastrophic failure. The Leader was already giving him enough shit about his weight as it was, and this was no doubt going to elicit more than a few jabs at his figure’s expense.
A resigned sigh left those stiff lips as he tossed what remained of the now-useless leather ribbon round his waist, the man’s pyramid-framed mouth baring teeth as he struggled to heave himself back up to his fat feet from his chair— until another sharp series of violent tearing sounds caught his attention, as did the sudden draft around his rear. Another round of obscenities filled the air as he realized those tight leather trousers had too finally blown out around his ridiculously wide ass, exposing the bouncy yoga ball-sized cheeks framed by a pair of undergarments that even a professional swimmer would find too skimpy to wear. He didn’t even realize that the waistband was getting dangerously frayed…
Realizing he was going to have to squeeze out of the seat, he began pushing himself up with his barrel-thick arms, only for their flexing to push the sleeves beyond their limits. Another pair of sharp tearing sounds cut the air as he managed to extricate himself from the furniture with a loud *CRACK* of breaking armrests… and as if all this wasn’t enough, as soon as Amon gave another deep sigh of relief, the rest of his uniform gave a sickening cacophony of tearing leather as his top was steadily turned to large scraps around his feet. Believing it to be over, the jailor started bending to pick up the mess around him only to hear a hearty *twang* below his waist.
General Amon ger Reizenghest was completely, utterly, absolutely stark naked. The fuming jailor stalked over to the phone installed in the interrogation room wall, mashing in a number with his massive fingers, and waiting for an answer.
“This is General Reizenghest. I’m going to need another uniform custom made. Yes, immediately. I do need new measurements, yes… Just send a god damned tailor, NOW.”