After an extended time away, Chomby was excited to finally see Sarge again. He had been with Xenon for a few months during Sarge's yearly "Holiday Sabbatical." Chomby could have sworn he'd experienced one of these sabbaticals, but his memory of it was foggy at best. He remembered his body had gone through changes, but he wasn't sure if it was because he chugged a bunch of Fluffmaster's Round Rootbeers or if it was a part of the season. He wanted to ask Sarge.

Sarge appeared in the mindscape. To Chomby's lack of surprise, Sarge looked like he normally did. Round-statured, grizzled appearance, bushy beard, and a cigar gingerly clenched between his teeth. Despite this, Chomby felt his excitement increase. He wagged his tail. "Sarge!" Chomby began to run forward but tripped when he felt his belly drag on the ground underneath him. As he fell forward, he could see Sarge jump backward a bit with a surprised expression. He couldn't see what happened for long as he felt his body begin to roll. He wiggled his arms to try and stop himself but missed the ground as he was now laying on his back and looking behind himself. He felt a strong hand on his flank.

"Easy there, big guy!" Sarge's gruff voice chimed in with amusement. "Don't think running is in your physiology." Chomby felt the hands slowly roll him into an upright position. He managed to plant his feet on the ground and steady his balance.

"What do you mean? I'm pretty sure I did a lot of running the past few years!" Chomby tried to fold his arms but found his chest and belly were too big. "A fat soundbyte is a healthy soundbyte!"

"Fat is one thing, round is another... and you are VERY round." Sarge reached forward and hugged around Chomby. Chomby returned the hug by gently nuzzling his snout into Sarge's cheek.

Sarge released the hug. This mere action made Chomby almost fall backward, but Sarge managed to press down on Chomby's belly to stop this. Chomby chuckled. "Speak for yourself! You're looking fatter than before. Tried to curb your cigar addiction with some food, I take it?"

Sarge closed his eyes and laughed. "Ahh, if only. Millions of cookies in a single night. Reality warping shenanigans." Sarge grabbed his cigar and flicked it away. Though the mindscape was meant to be imaginary, Sarge always had a rather vivid imagination of how things were supposed to act. Though, oddly, after he flicked the cigar away, another one appeared in his mouth. "You do know my antidote can only do so much, right? It can remove the fat you've accumulated, and can sometimes fix the modifications, but if you have too much soda, not even the antidote can fix that."

"Riiiight," Chomby said. "Well, uh..." Chomby looked down at himself. He felt his cheeks flush hot when he realized how big he actually was. He thought back to his time with Xenon. The entire month of December was still fuzzy, but he knew he had chugged a few extra round rootbeers than he normally would. "How did you know I took an antidote?"

"Xenon told me," Sarge took a step back and placed his hands on his hips. He took a deep breath and blew out a bunch of smoke. "Honestly, Chomby, Xenon isn't a fan of my sodas. Forcing his body to drink them was a bit rude."

Chomby lowered his ears. "I was... stressed." Chomby scratched his cheek. "I can't fully remember why, but I know it was stressful."

Sarge seemed to want to say something. He opened his mouth for a moment then closed it and shook his head. "Good thing his alien anatomy makes the antidote work like a charm, eh?"

"For him, maybe," Chomby groaned. He looked down at himself. He hopped onto one of his feet. His belly still stayed on the ground. He hopped on the other. Again, his belly didn't move. "It did nothing for me. I don't get it."

"Don't get what?"

"I've taken your antidote, and lost all the extra weight... so why is my belly not getting any smaller?" Chomby slapped his hands onto his belly. Though it was still soft, it had a lot more volume to it than he anticipated.

"I've tallied all forty-two warnings I gave you, y'know," Sarge whispered.

"Warnings about what?" Chomby grimaced. "About drinking too much soda? Yeah! You've told me. Makes me fat."

"A hundred sodas, to be precise." Sarge gently shook Chomby's belly. This made Chomby blush even more. "Effects are permanent at ten, but now-"

"Wait." Chomby's eyes widened. His mind suddenly flooded with all the sodas he drank. Several times over a year. Was it really one hundred sodas? But that meant... "This is permanent?!" Chomby leaned forward to heft up a portion of his belly. To his dismay, his spherical belly would not squish properly. Rather, it stayed in its ball-like state. "I'm permanently this shape now?!"

Sarge chuckled. "As permanent as me being reality-warped into a sixty-year-old cigar chomper!" Sarge picked up his cigar and flicked it out of his mouth. Another appeared in its place. He sighed and lowered his shoulders. He frowned. "How many times have we been reality warped, Chomby?"

"Reality warped? What do you mean, 'reality warped'?" Chomby emphatically gestured to Sarge's body. "You've always been an old... heavy-smoking fatso... right?" Chomby scratched his chin. "Gosh, when we met you were like... fifty three! You started smoking maybe three years ago? Right before the... uh..." Chomby scratched his head. Now that he thought of it, he couldn't fully remember the details of Sarge taking up smoking. This was weird, because he had been there. Hadn't he? He should have remembered...

Sarge seemed to notice Chomby's distress and immediately smiled again. "Hey, it's just an example! Just showing you how permanent your new, round body is." Sarge elbowed Chomby with a snicker. "You know me, your old, cigar-chomping buddy, always making jokes!" Sarge then placed a hand on Chomby's head and placed a hand on Chomby's chest. "So, if you think I've always been a cigar chomper, then that's your answer about how permanent your new look is!"

"Oh..." Chomby gulped. "Am I... remembering something wrong?" He placed a hand on his head. "Why can I not remember what happened in December?"

Sarge looked away. He gritted his teeth, causing the cigar to fall out of his mouth. Like before, another took its place almost immediately. "Best not dwell on it. No amount of telling you will help the situation. Trust me, I've tried. Every time, you'd become distressed."

"Every time?" Chomby asked. "What do you mean-"

"Don't worry about it," Sarge said confidently. "It'll all be fixed by the end of the year. Trust me!"

Chomby took a deep breath. "I recognize this feeling, Sarge. You're stressed. What's going on?"

Sarge sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Reality warping, Chomby. Alters memories... alters even reality. I know it affects me, but I don't know if its affecting your body right now, either. You really drank one hundred sodas?"

"I remember that much, yeah," Chomby nodded. He wasn't sure what to think at the moment, but he knew he needed to trust Sarge.

Sarge leaned in close and pressed his cheek against Chomby's. "In the mean time, might I say that this is a good look for you? I think the roundness just SCREAMS, 'Chomby!'"

Chomby felt his blush return. He lifted a foot and wiggled it. He could feel it pressing against his belly. "Y-you think so?"

"Definitely. Sure, going through doors will be a problem, and you'll roll faster than you walk, but I think being this fat and round fits you more than your original build did," Sarge said. Chomby recognized Sarge was being playfully teasy. He definitely was stressed right now... and he knew Chomby couldn't handle whatever was going on.

"Uh, yeah," Chomby felt his flustered emotions increase even more at the aspect of permanently having this rounded bodyshape. "I guess I gotta get used to this?"

"You and me both!" Sarge said.

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A personal piece/continuation of an ongoing thingamajig. Both with Chomby's round rootbeer journey and Sarge's reality-warped journey!

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Sarge/Chomby/Art/Story (C)  Juntarhenogu Me