Day 3 - Tell me honestly, do I have a flabby ass?

Pelleaon awoke with a startle, yet again. He scowled as he hammered the alarm clock until it was silent I should be used to this damn clock by now. He staggered out of bed, made coffee, looked in the mirror and sighed once more at his flabby ass.

Pelleaon walked into the sweetly scented weight room located below Thrawn's personal quarters. Good. He thought. It's clean and smells nice. He placed his water bottle on a table at the far end of the room, and began his work out. Ten minutes passed, and Pelleaon stopped the treadmill. He got off and looked around the room. I wonder if there's anything to eat around here. He wandered out of the room into the empty hallway, when a familiar and extremely satisfying scent overwhelmed him. Pelleaon felt weak. He absent mindedly began to follow the scent to its origin, his subconscience determined to find its source. He stopped when he came to the kitchen, at the heard of Thrawn's personal living quarters. Oh crap. He panicked. I've trespassed into the Grand Admiral's very own quarters without even knowing it!

Pelleaon began to hyperventilate when a very familiar blue face peered around the corner at him.
"Yes Captain? I sense you need something?" asked the familiar voice.
"Uh... no, no sir. I'm so sorry. I was just following the most delicious scent." Pelleaon felt ashamed, and sounded that way aswell. "Ah." Thrawn nodded. "That would be my cinnemon buns. You wouldn't believe it if I told you, but I enjoy baking in my free time."
Pelleaon nodded in disbelief as he sat down at the exquisite dining table located in Thrawn's quarters. He was out of his mind. "May I have one?" He asked without fear, expecting nothing but the worst. Pelleaon was certain he would be dismissed from his rank this morning. This is the end. I might as well make the best of it. Thrawn smiled at the Captain's sudden change in attitude. "Why yes, you may have one. I'll add a bit of icing for flavor." The Grand Admiral handed Pelleaon a small dish of cinnemon rolls along with a glass of milk. Pelleaon began eating the cinnemon buns as if they were his very last meal. He didn't even question the Grand Admiral's sudden friendliness.

The next thought struck him like the death star would strike an innocent planet.

I'M GOING TO GET FAT! Pelleaon began to pound his head against the polished black surface of the dining table. All that work, and for what? A cinnemon bun? Pelleaon stood up, and gazed pleedingly at his High Commander.
"Tell me honestly, do I have a flabby ass?" Tears began to swell up in the Captain's eyes.
"Well.." Thrawn began, but saw the pain in the others eyes. He lay a hand reassuringly on the captain's shoulder. "It is normal for a man of your age and size to be of the same physical condition as you. If I were in your position, I wouldn't worry about the state of your bottom, but more the state of your emotions."
"But it's because of my droopy ass cheeks that I'm so insecure! Just help me gain a nice, well formed butt and I'll never trespass into your - kitchen - ever again!" pleaded the Captain.
"Well, if you insist, then I will help you gain the emotional security that you seek. " answered Thrawn. With that, he took the plate of cinnemon rolls from the captain and pushed him back into the weight room.
"I don't want to see you for the next 3 hours. If you can't last that long in a weight room, then you will forever have a flabby posterior. " Thrawn closed the door as he walked away, and left Pellaeon whimping on the weight room floor.

Pellaeon sighed, and wandered over to the treadmill. This is it machine. Just you and me. I WILL conquer you, just like I conquered that cinnemon bun. Pellaeon slapped himself across the head. It was Thrawn that took away the cinnemon buns, not you! Pellaeon quietly got up onto the treadmill, and painfully looked forward to the next 3 hours of his life.