For one thing, the tall dais he used to sit on had been replaced with a more modest six inch high platform, and as for the throne, well…. “MAKE WAY FOR EMPEROR KUZCO!” the announcer called, and ducked out of the way. BOOM! BOOM!! BOOM!!! BOOM!!!! Mickey entered, and boy did he enter. The anthro mouse towered at twenty feet tall, and was basically the shape of a boulder with the density of pancake batter. His gut was literally the size of a small hill, and it left a trail of sweat behind as it dragged on the floor in spite of jutting out at least fifteen feet. His moobs would slap with each step, his destructive wake powerful enough to make them rise and plap as he moved. His ass rhythmically CLAPPED like thunder as they protruded almost as far as his hillock of a gut did, with his tiny tail lost somewhere in the abyss of his squished crack. The floor cracked under his big thoomers, each one bigger than the last as he belched loudly, his flabby cheeks bouncing and his neck, or lack thereof as it had merged with his tubby shoulders, jostled violently from his agonisingly long burp. Mickey’s progress was slow, but he eventually made it to his new, very enormous golden throne. Raising his derriere high and wiggling it about, he slammed it down, sending cracks through solid gold as the armrests dug into his hips and sides and gut, which spilled out in front of him like a blanket. His ass, meanwhile, rose upwards to just under his shoulder blades. The llama sighed as he rested his cheek on his small bloated hand, his digits sinking so deeply into his flab they vanished. “Well,” he said to himself,* “at least I’m the emperor again. UUUUURRRRRRRPPPPPPPP!!! Huff, SERVANTS! BRING ME MY FOURTH LUNCH! I’M HUNGRY!” he moaned loudly as his mountainous gut grumbled like a storm.