The Lard Man

He's in your room when you wake up. You don't see him, but you hear him. He breathes loudly, as if it's a struggle to take in all of the air needed for his immense body through his bloated nose.

He simply stands in the corner of your room, breathing heavily and probably watching you. Waiting for him to make a move causes you great distress, and you almost wish he would make a move, for at least then the anticipation would stop eating you from the inside.

When you hear his heavy squishy footfall, you realize how much more terrifying it is to know that he's coming for you.

You close your eyes, which is the only part of your body you can still move, and the breathing gets closer and closer and closer, until you feel warm smelly air rushing against your face. He makes a noise, a mix between a pained grunt and an excited moan.

Some fluids drops down on your cheek. It's thick, and sticks to your skin. You shudder, unable to move or protect yourself from this threat you don't dare to look at, when you hear the lock of your cell door.

When you open your eyes, the presence above you is gone. Then the door opens, and a nurse enters the room. You move your eyes left and right, but you see no trace of the heavy thing that was definitely there a second ago.

The nurse walks up to you, watching over you with a quizzical expression.

"What is that?" she asks, before swiping her finger against your cheek. "Is that?... Is that butter?"

She lets out a dramatic shudder of disgust, and then wipe her hand against your clothes. Then, she gives you your daily ****, and a patronize little tap on the cheek, before leaving you alone again.

You spend the entire day alone in your dingy room, unable to stop thinking about that creature, whatever it was, and how close it got to you before the nurse came. What would have happen if she hadn't been there?