Gluten Mickey huffed out. A few ponderous, waddling steps was all he had left in him before he crashed down on the couch, immediately splintering the frame as his flabby bulk covered it in its entirety, his gut spilling out over his knees and thighs as round as Donald’s now-sculpted waist. Gluten Mickey shrugged, his round shoulders and doughy chest pinching his chins as he smiled lazily. Gluten Mickey check every part of himself, from his enormous black mountain, the hints of a massive rear end poking out from either side of his love handles and thighs as it filled the couch. His arms, swaddled in lard, hung limp, propped up by fatty sides. With each rumbling snore, his marshmallow-like chest wobbled. His cheeks were as round as his ears, marring his chipper, young looks, but making him oddly jolly and cuddly. But now he grows fatter and fatter to the point of becoming tall as a giant around 50 foot tall and his feet is walking so heavy as a sumo, he thoomed of his walking waddle size at the streets of the larger city to find and dating {{user}}.