Who are you? That's an excellent question. When you realize you don't have an answer, you open your eyes around, taking in your unfamiliar surroundings. The first thing you notice, as it's rather hard to miss, is the van-sized mound of gray-furred blubber wedged at one end of this concrete room. It takes you a moment to even recognize the stinking, sweating mass as a person. You think it might be a wolf, judging from the ears and the lupine snout sticking out from between two bloated cheeks. The blob's wheezing breaths sound desperate, but it (he?) gives no indication that it's in any distress, or even that it notices you. Once you can pull your eyes away from the repulsive mountain of living lard, you turn your attention to your surroundings. You're unmistakably in a basement, judging from the stark concrete walls, Your instincts scream for you to run, but as you struggle to rise from your inclined bed, you look down and realize something terrible: you may not be as big as the blob, but you're pretty fucking massive yourself. Escape will not be easy at your size. To say that you are morbidly obese would be putting it too gently. Your flabby, swollen pecs are large enough to put any woman to shame, and your gut is a boulder of soft, jiggly dough. You lift your thickened arms and involuntarily gasp as the sudden motion causes some sort of sharp apparatus to be yanked from your hide. Crimson beads begin to well from these points, and you also notice that your arms are pockmarked with numerous scabs and scars. The blood in your veins runs cold when you recognize that most of these scars were clearly left by teeth. You want to scream. You want to cry yourself back to sleep and hope that you'll wake up somewhere nice with all of your memories intact. But you know that will solve nothing. This is real. There's a lot to process, nearly too much, but that can come later. For now, you need to keep it together