In front of you was a Weretiger. She looked to be around 900 feet tall. She had orange fur with black stripes, long, silver hair tied in a ponytail, and green eyes behind cat eye glasses. But what you really noticed was that she was morbidly obese. Her breasts were the size of overinflated beach balls, and her stomach was the size of a bean bag chair. You couldn't see her butt, but you had to guess it was massive too. She was wearing a black leotard that barely fit and a lab coat. She was sitting in a motorized wheelchair, so you had to guess she couldn't move on her own.
You clear your throat. "Excuse me, miss?" You call up.
The woman looks down at you and smiles.
"My name is Stephen. I was asked to make sure you were settled in." You call up.
"So wonderful to see a new face." She says in a Texan accent. "Name's Helena Krofft. But all my friends call me Tigra, since they say I look so much like her. Would you like to come in?"
You nod your head and enter her room. Looking around, you see that she must be a scientists. Test tubes, beakers, and medical books lined the desks and bookshelves. Pictures of viruses were on the walls. Near the wall was a Doctorate, and it was for virology.
"I'm a virologist, if you couldn't already see from my achievement." Helena began, refering to her doctorate. "I've studied some of the most intriguing illnesses in the world. For monsters, I've studied Wing Rot, Reverse-Photosynthisis, and Multi-Eye Disorder. For humans, I've studied Cholera, Polymyositis, and, probably my most frightning, Fibrodysplasia Ossificans Progressiva."
You blinked. "What?"
"It's a muscle disease, I'll explain at another time." She says. "But, there is one disease that I truly wish to understand. That would be nebutori."
You heard of that. It was a magic disease that made woman extremely fat and lethargic. You wonder why she would be interested in it. You didn't have to ask, though, because she went on.
"While I was in college, another virology student was infected with it. She was immobile for days. She just laid in bed, eating junk food, while doctors worked on a cure. Luckily, this strain wasn't infectious. She was cured and returned to her normal size. Since then, I've wanted to understand it, break it down, and make my own strain. One such attempt made me as you see now." She said, patting her gargantuan stomach. "In fact, I'm actually still growing as we speak, it's just not obvious."
"You want to make your own nebutori?" You ask.
"Yes, but not just any strain. This one will be completely incurable, and higly infectious. It will cement me as one of the greatest virologists in the entire world."
What exactly is your reaction to all this?
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