Roger Calhoun was huge. Standing at a measly five feet seven inches tall, he still resembled some sort of creature from a darkness deep in the earth. His calves were like tree trunks, and the undersides of his arms gave the appearance of dough that was due for a good kneed - a baker's great delight. Instead of having dozens of rolls of fat around his torso, his body simply had three thick rings of fat, divided by solid black creases where the skin folded over itself. He also didn't have a neck. And it's not that his neck was lost somewhere on his body; he literally no longer had one. God, he was so big.

"I think you're really going to love this personal trainer, Roger," Sherry said as they rounded the corner of the lake in the park. Sherry was one of Roger's childhood friends. Evening walks in the park had become customary for them. For him, it allowed him to decompress from the day. But it was more of a necessity for Sherry. She always said that she couldn't survive without his unending encouragement.

"I better like him!" Roger laughed. "You've been singing his praises so much that I don't think it's even possible for me to be disappointed. I just hope that he's not afraid to push me to try my hardest. People that know me know that I'm a big softy, but strangers usually seem too leery of my appearance to be persuaded." He blushed as Sherry locked arms with him.

It wasn't only Sherry that looked to sweet Roger for their daily doses of positivity. Many would say that Roger was the most kind-hearted man that they had ever known. When interacting with others, he always greeted them with a smile and gave them the whole of his attention. His presence lightened the mood wherever he went. It's for this reason that so many people rallied to his side when he finally made the decision to do something about his weight.

Sherry stopped him mid-stride and looked him straight in the eyes. "You'll do great," she reaffirmed him. And at that, they made their way back to their cars to close out the night.

Roger awoke with a fierce determination and a smile the next morning. Though the sun had not yet risen, everything seemed to be brighter. He didn't struggle to get around, as was his usual experience. Instead, he seemed to have a spring in his step, if you can imagine it. He didn't even find it difficult to put his socks on today. Once he was dressed, he drove with haste to the gym where his transformation process was soon to begin. As he walked through the door, he noticed that several people from his neighborhood were already there, including Sherry, who had come to give back some of the encouragement Roger had first given all of them over the years. Roger beamed with delight at this, then looked toward a pile of filthy tires where he noticed someone approaching. It was his CrossFit trainer.

"Shane, and you are?" the trainer bypassed any sort of cordial greeting and introduced himself with an upward head nod and a puffed out chest. Shane was also huge, but not the kind of huge that makes you think of pudding or Roger. Shane was a strong kind of huge.

"I'm Roger, it's nice to meet you," Roger uttered with enthusiasm and complete sincerity. He held out his hand to initiate a handshake. His fingers were the size of bananas. Smelled like bananas, too. "I just want to say thank you so much for agreeing to help –"

"Get running, now," Shane commanded, cutting off and dismissing Roger's offering of thanks.

"I...I beg your pardon?" The tone in Shane's voice made Roger feel a little worried. Roger withdrew his hand and looked embarrassingly at his friends from the corner of his vision. Each one of them threw him a smile and a thumbs up for encouragement.

"I said get running! Small talk never helped anyone lose weight, now run!"

Roger ran. He ran until his tight purple shirt was soaked through with sweat. He ran until he could taste bile in his mouth while his neighborhood friends stood there cheering him on. Roger's entire body was aching after only twenty minutes. Shane Pain was what Shane liked to call it, and it was clear that Shane liked the phrase. While Roger ran, Shane lay sprawled out on one of the filthy tires like a model, repeating the phrase even when no one was around him.

Crunches followed after the running. Roger plopped onto the ground, grateful to not be standing anymore. "I want to see five hundred crunches, you sick waste. And make them quick," Shane said from his tire throne while he stared at his biceps and flexed.

Roger tilted his head at Shane, hurt by the insult. Maybe this is his way of trying to get to my head, he thought, then shook his head. No, I'm not going to let that happen. I'll show him! He attempted to lift himself for the first crunch, but his head only came an inch and a half off of the ground, as his disgustingly obese body wouldn't allow for any more than that. If this is all that I can do, then he'll have to be ok with it.

After fifteen Roger-type crunches, Roger sighed through his heavy breathing, "Okay, I think that's good for today." He physically couldn't handle any more exercise.

"No, no, no. You just got here," Shane chuckled. "You're not even close to being finished yet. Pushups are next. Or maybe you need some motivation. Is that what you need? Hmm?"

Roger sighed. "If we're not done, then I'll just need a breather for a few minutes. I don't need more motivation. Is there a water fountain around?"

Shane threw Roger a heavy water container. Roger opened the lid and tipped it into his mouth, but his mouth filled with sand. Roger spit it out the best he could, but his mouth was still coated in it. "I think you need some motivation," Shane said evilly as he strutted over and kicked Roger in the ribs.

Just then, it was as if the lighting in the room went dim, especially around Shane's face. Roger looked around at his supportive neighborhood friends and noticed that they were now staring at him darkly, each wearing sneers on their faces that curled at the ends. Roger looked back at Shane just as Shane was raising an enormous hornet's nest over his head with both hands. Shane heaved it at Roger with such force that it split the nest into a hundred pieces when it crashed against his stomach.

A shadowy cloud of hornets took to the air and immediately bolted back down to Roger. Roger started screaming in pain as thousands of angry hornets tore at every inch of his skin. He began desperately crawling around on the floor trying to escape the hornets, but the swarm engulfed him like a giant ball of flame. Tears of pain began streaming down Roger's face. He heard a rhythmic clapping begin, and he came to realize, much to his confusion, that it was the clapping of his surrounding friends as they watched and enjoyed the struggle. One of them was holding an enormous tub of popcorn and passed it down to share with the others. Roger screamed and sobbed until he passed out and lay like raw meat on a butcher's block.

Hours passed before the hornets decided to leave. When they did, the audience left as well, leaving a mess of half-eaten snacks and refreshments that you'd only see after a long night at the circus. Many of them passed within inches of Roger, a few stepping on his fingers as they humorously talked amongst themselves and re-enacted their favorite scenes. The hornet attack had been so bad that Roger was unrecognizable.

Days later, after the swelling had subsided, Roger went for a walk in the park, alone. Spirits crushed and still hideously fat, he hadn't returned to the gym, nor did he have any plans to. The last time he'd seen Sherry, she was swinging wildly from Shane's forearm as if it were a branch from a tree in a jungle. Roger nodded his head in realization as he watched a pair of ducks land in the lake, letting it sink in that he'd never see his longtime friend again, and accepting that that would be his final memory of her.