The office looks different now... really different.

You barely notice in your gluttonous rapture as the car turns off the road and into the parking lot. It's only once it finds itself a spot and comes to a stop that you realize something is off. While everything else seems mostly the same, save for its significant expansion, the tall glass box you're used to working in has been replaced a squat concrete block that looks much more -- industrial. "Surely this can't be right" you think and check the navigation system. Sure enough, it's the same address as the place you worked before the shift and you even recognize a few of the people waddling through the doors as your coworkers. Maybe the redesign is just an unusually **** example of your tampering with reality. You look at the time on the console and realize you don't have time to sit around and think about this. With a deep breath you swallow your last donut and begin the arduous process of pulling yourself out of the driver's seat and onto your feet. All the pastries you've stuffed yourself with on the drive over aren't doing you any favors as now you feel noticeably fatter than before.

The walk from your car to the front door feels like an eternity from how much effort it takes to move your huge body and to not lose your balance from how much your fat shifts and wobbles with each step. You take a moment to catch your breath by leaning against one of the lamp posts on the sidewalk just outside the buildings and notice the sign near the front doors has changed as well. Before you worked at 'Fairway Anwell Trading Company' but now the sign bearing the FATco name has been replaced with the words 'Mayfair Lactose Aggregate Company' or MLAC for short. "Lactose Aggregate?" you wonder to yourself between heavy breaths "The hell does that mean?". You decide the only way to find out is to go inside so you grit your teeth and lumber your way through the front doors.

A wave of relief washes over your sweaty rolls as you leave the summer heat and are hit by the crisp air-conditioned air of the lobby. Everything looks fairly normal save for the massive pile of blubber sitting behind the front desk scarfing potato chips. It takes you a second but you finally recognize him by his short red hair, trimmed beard, glasses and ill-fitting flannel shirt. It's Ted, the receptionist. Just yesterday he was a skinny twig who liked to run but now it would take a crane to move him anywhere. While you take a second to take in his massive transformation his eyes lock with yours and he quickly puts down the back of chips he was funneling down his throat to tell you "Oh! BUUUUURRRPPP, ______! The boss has been looking for you! He says he wants to meet you in room 6 for something special."

You want to ask all sorts of questions about what the company does now but you can't think of any way to ask without seeming like an alien so you decide to just go with the flow and respond with "What does he want?". Ted steals another chip from the bag as he talks "Dunno, he's hard to read sometimes but I'm pretty sure you're not in any trouble."

"Uh, which way is Room 6?"

Ted doesn't seem fazed by the question at all. He seems more interested in getting back to his chips. "East wing, shouldn't be too far of a walk." He says as he picks the bag back up to start shoving more chips into his fat face. It seems like he's done talking for now so you head down the hall to the east wing.