"My life is fucked," Petre said as he wet his toes in the ocean's salt.

He sat on a sandy beach made resplendent with coconut trees and seashells. He had only ever seen this kind of excess in movies and television. Its white sand and tropical flare was not overcrowded with the obese (Who could lose a few pounds if they took a dip) and the beautifully curvaceous seeking attention.

"I am on a private beach b-because, because every evil organization, yes, needs some R&R."

He was not particularly sure if they evil, but he was p̵a̷r̵t̶i̴c̶u̴l̶a̸r̶l̵y̷ ̵s̴u̷r̶e they were evil. They still fed him whatever he wanted. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He could ask for the finest of delicacies. It all tasted like sludge, though.

"Not that I blame you," Petre said, and here his voice lightened, its tenor rose with affection.

He cradled Blurb in his lap, a small ball of black goo. The creature, Zero-Nine, had shaved his treasure like a slab of meat full of white fat. Gone were Blurb's pouty lips and pornstar flare (He could not quite remember who she had mimicked after all this time).

"Blurb bwamewess!" the little ball of black cooed from his lap.

It had been Zero-Nine's instruction, her demand. Because this was an evil organization no matter the wonderful beach and the wonderful food. The poison could be in the steak sauce. The poison could be in the ice cubes. The poison could be on the forks.

"These are the kind of healthy thoughts that keep my spirits up," Petre said, and he buried his face in Blurb's goo and blew. He made faint ripples of black, and Blurb shivered in delight.

He fed all of his five-star food to Blurb and then ate what slid out from her, what was made c̵l̶e̸a̵n̵ with her black ichor.

"That is good to hear," a familiar voice said from behind, and Petre looked up warily from his beach-side fun.

Trepe had been assigned his watcher, his babysitter, his ś̶͕p̸̧͆y after Petre and Blurb had been reunited. He was a lanky fellow with a professional-looking haircut cut and a perpetually tired face. Like most on the island, he wore all white.

Petre nodded for his watcher, his tongue suddenly swollen. Blurb noticed the change, and he could feel small, almost immaterial ridges form along the smooth surface of her black goo. His little guard dog.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your fun," Trepe said with a haggard smile. The enormous black bags under his eyes, and how slowly he moved his arms in emphasis, made Petre wonder if he ever slept. "Just thought it would be best for you to head inside."

"A-and why, w-why would that b-be...?" Petre asked, immediately distrustful.

For a watcher or a babysitter, Trepe was an odd one. Or perhaps he played the role too well. Half the time Petre could not find him, but he knew that the haggard young man was always watching. He seemed only to approach Petre when he was alone with Blurb, and always with small "suggestions" like these.

"If you stay out of sight for too long," Trepe began with a narrowed, uncomfortable stare, "the others might grow uncomfortable. Why not watch some television inside?"

Petre looked out across the sea, across the endless expanse of blue. Impossible to swim away. Frightening even to swim inside (Who knew how many sharks were looking for a tasty bite?). But over the last two days, Petre had found some measure peace here. Alone. There seemed to be nowhere else that he could find solitude, aside from his cramped room, but that felt more like a prison.

"S-sure..." Petre said after a few moment. Because this man was his keeper. If Trepe made a suggestion, it was an order. He looked nonthreatening because the evil organization wanted him to look nonthreatening.

"Do you want to watch a movie, Blurb?" He poked Blurb and smiled for the ripple of her black flesh.

"Movie! Movie time!" Blurb said, and she swayed back and forth in rhythmic delight.

Petre smiled for her, so obliviously pleased. He could not tell if her happiness was genuine. It could be f̵̳̅a̵̬̾k̵̝̀è̵͚ like Manya's affection.

His hand flew unconsciously to the blind half of his face. The evil doctors in their evil white lab coats had filled the hole with an artificial eye, a fake. It probably had a camera inside it. Or microphones. Or a small bomb.

A small bomb was the most likely, but Zero-Nine, who seemed protective in all other regards, had not seemed concerned. He had not asked her, but then again he could scarcely open his mouth when that... that creature was around.

"Petre sad...?" Blurb asked, and two tentacles extended from the black of her goo. They wrapped around him in what had to be a hug, though there was scarcely any strength to the gesture.

"Thank you, Blurb," Petre said. He looked up, but Trepe had already disappeared. Probably watching from behind some palm tree in disgust. But it did not matter. None of it mattered. His life was fucked, and Blurb was one small happiness he still had.

"OOoooOOoh!" Blurb cooed with delight as the pack of lions (Petre knew they had another name, but a pack still made sense) devoured a gazelle in a crimson dance of violence.

"They must be hungry," Petre said, his hands covering his face. Even after everything he had been through (Or perhaps because of what he been through) his stomach did little somersaults when the lions and the other animals feasted.

There were not many movies at the evil organization. Most were foreign and most did not have subtitles. In fact, Petre and Trepe seemed to be the only people who were not foreigners on the entire island.

Petre and Blurb had settled on a nature documentary. They had no idea what the commentator was saying about the various animals that appeared onscreen (Or at least Petre did not), but animals running around were animals running around. And besides, Blurb had quickly shown that she liked to watch lions and hyenas and all other sorts of predators chew on hapless bunny rabbits.

"Blurb want biiiiiig teeth like sisters," Blurb said as the scene switched to a closeup to a pair of warthogs, no doubt the lions' next meal. "Chomp, chomp, chomp!"

"B-big teeth like these?" Petre asked, and he began to nibble and chew on Blurb's black goo. It was not an unpleasant sensation, as if he were some teething child.

"OoooOOooooh," Blurb cooed in delight, and her body rippled with thanks.

Petre wondered once more how much of this was all an act. He was no stupid. He wanted to be stupid, but ever since Blurb had returned to him, so small and deflated, her behavior had become childlike and innocent. As if she was trying to convince him, and everyone else, that she was not a threat.

Just how smart was she? How much of her feelings were genuine? Could she even have feelings?

Petre's troublesome thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. A cold dread fell over his face. Because it was too early for lunch and Trepe never knocked, and so Petre stared at the door, his face and arms awash with sweat.

Because what if the scientists wanted to cut him open? What if they wanted to boil his blood and see what colour it became? What if they wanted to take Blurb away? What if he could not even imagine the sort of twisted anarchy they wanted to experiment?

The door opened, and Petre froze with fear. But it was just the familiar food cart lady, the same plump black-haired woman that had brought him his meals for the past two days. He could smell various delights waft out from the white cart she pushed, but the thought of eating brought him little warmth.

"Oh my," the food lady said. "Watching a movie, are ye?"

She wheeled the cart to the center of the room and started to unload various dishes, tray after tray.

"This came out real well," she said as she placed an entire chocolate cake on the center of the table. "A Melrouge specialty, yes. Ye haven't had chocolate cake until ye've had Melrouge chocolate cake, yes."

Petre stared at the pastry, and his eyes glossed over with want. It looked as though it had come from a world famous bakery. Like something only the richest and most fortunate had the chance to eat. And an entire cake of it had been plopped down on his table.

"Might be I cut ye a slice?" the plump food cart lady asked with a little laugh. "Start with the best, why don't ye?"

He could already imagine how awful the chocolate would taste after it had passed through Blurb's bowels. Because that was what he had done for the past two days. He had eaten Blurb's shit, and he did not want to eat Blurb's shit when some of the best food he had even seen was danced out in-front of him.

The food cart lady reached over the low table, and her arms continued to extend, farther and farther, until they wrapped around Petre's throat.

Blurb's body bristled with small spikes as Petre was wheeled to the table like some fish, the food cart lady's hands unnatural and monstrous. He kicked and thrashed in a blind panic, but she was too strong.

"Make sure to eat every b̸͖͠ĭ̸̠i̴̼͆ì̴̠i̶̠̋i̴̼͆t̸͔͋è̷̼," Zero-Nine said in a horrible clatter of laughter, and she crushed Petre's face into the three layered chocolate cake.

"Go on, go on," Zero-Nine said as she pushed harder and harder until the table let out a groan. Petre's face was ground and rolled against the destroyed dessert. "I only told you it was fuuuuuull of poison, but take a bite!"

Petre stumbled back in a flail of limbs as Zero-Nine released him.

Gone was the familiar plump food cart lady. Zero-Nine had taken on her original motherly form, her breasts two enormous watermelons, her hair a cascade of voluminous curls of black. He had not seen her since the incident in the lab with Blurb, and he was not at all pleased to see her now.

"I am ever so glad to see you," Zero-Nine said, her words soft as cotton candy. "Still the messy eater, I see, but that is just fiiiine."

Blurb rolled between them, her small black body rippling with spikes. She looked so pathetic before the towering mass of bloated muscle that was Zero-Nine. Because while the eyes naturally latched onto the weight of her chest, when one looked away they saw the strength that hid and pulsed beneath an idyllic yellow sundress. Her arms and legs bulged with an bodybuilder's bulk.

"I seem to have upset the iddle widdle pup," Zero-Nine said, and with a suddenness that took Petre off-guard, her tone became serious. "I have a new assignment."

Petre looked away, unsure of how to react. She was his tormentor and his protector. He had scarcely spoken two words with the scientists, and he had Zero-Nine to thank for that. Who knew how he would be treated if she left.

"They'll cut you open like a slab of meat if I am away," she said, and Petre's stomach did a small somersault. "Which is why you will be coming with me."

It was a moment before Petre understood. It was another before he could find the courage to look up at Zero-Nine's face.

"We are going to have soooo much fun."