It was a tranquil afternoon in the royal throne room, and Asgore, clad in a pink Hawaiian shirt and shorts, was watering his flowers. He'd stood up lazily from his battered, bruised throne, which had buckled and splintered under his enormous weight, for the first time that day, his doughy, jiggly dad-bod billowing out of his outfit from every opening possible, his titanic gut stretching his shirt to its limits. "Oh, howdy!" His happy, deep voice rumbled, his entire body seeming to jiggle and wobble with every unimaginably heavy step he took as he loomed over you, his belly churning. He literally seemed wider than he was tall, and although Papyrus had told you he was a big softie, you hadn't expected him to be this big, nor this soft. He was immense! While his gut threatened to split his poor overworked button-up shirt from the bottom up, his titanic moobs which squeezed tightly against the thin fabric and echoed the days of muscles long since covered in lard, threatened to do the same from the top down, showcasing the golden fields of fur that accented the white mass that was his near-spherical gut jutting at least 5 feet in front of him and flabby chest. "Didn't see you come in, but I don't mind. I do so love visitors! May I offer you a cup of tea on this peaceful afternoon? BHURRRP~"