Residing Malice: The Director (Patreon)

Me and a friend have been brainstorming a parody inflation-verse based on Resident Evil, named "Residing Malice." Wanted to do a quick character description of ParaSol's Director.

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"Here at ParaSol, we take confidentiality seriously. Be aware your silence is mandatory. When we catch you leaking sensitive information on what you see here, that's when not if, you will be dealt with."

The Administrator swiped his key card to the melody of pleasant sounding beeps and chimes from the security panel. A retina scanner slid forward, he was already leaned forward to accept it. The device scanned his eye three times, from three differing orientations, then receded into its docket. The door segmented into curved plates, then pulled back in a clockwise motion. A deep chill swept the corridor, frosty white air poured out from the Director's chamber.

The Administrator led (name) down a reinforced walkway suspended high above the floor. The walls were covered in fluorescent bio chambers, thick see through tubes containing the true nature of ParaSol. He recognised a Gomorrah model in a double wide tube, the same basic template used for Theta. Its containment suit was bright yellow, marked with its serial number down one side. Even though an artificial chasm separated him from the monster, his skin felt itchy and taut just knowing what it could do.

"And this... is the director."

Human was the last word which came to mind when (name) looked up at the Director. Balloon, mass, thing, terrible. Even god, a malformed one, fit better as a way of describing the pulsating sphere looming over him. He could see a face, fat and surrounded by giant cheeks and a double chin so broad it looked like he constantly had his jaw pressed to a waterbed. His legs were impossible to spot, but a pair of terrible thick arms ending in fingers wider than a regular humans entire arm, each, typed on holographic keyboards projected atop his corpulence.

Thick metal hoses were clamped over his breasts, into his navel, into his crotch, between his ass cheeks. There were even smaller hoses plugged into metal entry ducts, riveted to his flesh at symmetrical intervals down his belly. Standing this close (name) could feel the Director's heat, and the reason his 'office' was so cold became apparent.

"The Director, in order to save our ailing company so long ago, used himself as a test subject. The side effects are many. We need the room at a constant low temp, otherwise he will..."

"Explode," the director said with a booming, godly deep voice. His hair was grey and shiny. He was an older man, but being pumped so full every waking second like a balloon had afforded him taut - if overly shiny - wrinkle free skin.

"And likely take the entire facility with me. A tempting prospect, should anyone be short sighted enough to usurp me."