Greasy

“And here,” Minh motioned towards the gleaming, silver appliance, “is the Frymaster 6000. The staple deep frier of all McRonald’s restaurants nationwide. As you can see,” he motioned around him, “our kitchen runs off half a dozen of these beasts, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week,”

The trainee nodded in acknowledgement.

“We, of course, attain to freshness in our food offering. The Frymaster 6000 is helpfully equipped for this. At the push of a button the used oil is taken away and the unit is replenished with a fresh supply,”

He pressed a prominent red button on the nearest unit, causing it to chug to life as the muddy brown oil was drained away and clean, golden oil replaced it.

“Our company policy is to replenish each unit every hour, one every ten minutes. In the interests of freshness, of course,”

* * *

Novella groaned to herself as another dozen gallons of hot oil ran down from the ceiling and into her bloated stomach. The hose bulged uncomfortably in her mouth, her teeth jamming it in place just as the elastic held her maw shut.

Beneath her a monstrous belly had grown, fuelled by a regular infusion fast food grease and compounded by her inability to move, a gut spreading outwards in every direction and forcing her hooves several feet from the floor. Even as her neck and limbs had plumped comically outwards, the sheer volume and regularity of grease meant that her stomach dominated the rest of her body—caught in a constant state of jiggling fat and sloshing liquid. A big, heavy red water balloon, slowly filling out the dank, dark basement.

A silhouette appeared briefly before her, the sight of her captor backlit by the bright fluorescent lighting of the restaurant before the door was snapped shut as Minh crept down the stairway to meet her; any complaints immediately stunted as another stream of hot grease flooded down her throat.

“Well, if it isn’t Little Miss Piggy?” Minh taunted, shoving a hand deep into Novella’s bulging front. Her size meant that hey were almost eye-to-eye, despite the otter’s height. “How are you enjoying captivity?”

Novella’s face alone couldn’t convey how little she enjoyed captivity.

“Must feel weird being drained of all your magic, huh? Maybe when you get it back you’ll actually consider completing my request?” He wobbling her around, a gentle ripple spreading through her blubber. “That said, maybe I’ll wait a few more days. You’ll have so much more ‘material’ to work with!”

Minh chuckled to himself as he turned to leave. Pausing by a stool standing a few feet away before heading back upstairs. Atop the stool sat a typewriter and a thick ream of paper, a cover page titled “Minh’s Fanfiction Ideas” laid on top of it.

Fans, Novella thought, were the absolute worst.