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FattyDragonite
“Ten seconds left on the clock!” shouted the announcer as caught up in the excitement of the basketball game as the fans on the bleachers were. “Number 4, Mark has got the ball and he’s bobbing and weaving his way through the opposition. Look at that speed and concentration! Is he going to shoot? No! He fakes and passes the ball to Number 2, Alan who quickly passes to Number 3, Keith. The away team is scrambling. They can’t keep track of who has the ball, but the time is almost up. Three seconds and counting! Keith still has the ball and he’s getting surrounded. Is there anything he can- yes there is! He’s lobbed the ball towards the hoop and Number 1, Scott, is there for the dunk! BAM!!! Just as all hope seemes lost The Storms have pulled off another amazing victory and their fans are going wild! And who can blame them? When those four are playing it truly is the perfect storm!”
“Great job today,” panted Scott the red Windragon as he shook Alan, the green Windragon’s hand tight.
“You were the one getting us all fired up for that last ditch effort,” he answered feeling rather embarrassed. “I just did the best I could.”
“We all gave 110% just like coach said,” the yellow Windragon Keith stated happily. “I’ve got no idea how we do more than 100%, but it sure does help.”
“That’s just an expression,” the blue Windragon, Mark, told him putting his arm around Keith’s shoulder. “Kind of like there is no ‘I’ in team.”
“I know there’s not,” replied Keith. “Why would anyone even try to spell ‘team’ like that?”
“Man you’re dumb,” laughed Mark. “But we love ya anyway.”
“Everyone!” called Alex the orange Windragon and coach of the team. “When you get done with the end game wrap-up I need the whole team into the locker room. I’ve got a major announcement and a big surprise for you all.”
“Coach has something to tell us?” wondered Scott as the team lined up and walked towards a line made up by the other team to shake hands to show good sportsmanship. “He usually just lets us wash up after the game and then go home to celebrate.”
“He’s been pretty preoccupied with something the last few days,” commented Alan. “During practice he’s been getting a number of phone calls, but he won’t tell us what they’re for.”
“Maybe he’s got a cute lady dragon he’s seeing,” joked Mark. “One that likes lots and lots of layers.”
“Shh! Are you going on about that rumor?” hushed Alan feeling a bit awkward to hear such talk while they were in the middle of shaking hands with the opposing team. His hushing managed to quiet them till they finished shaking claws and the other team and the other four members of their team dispersed to go to the locker rooms, while the fans exited via the nearest exits. Pretty soon, those four Windragons were the only ones left on the court. “That whole ‘likes wearing lots of thick clothes and getting hot and sweaty?’ I doubt it’s true and it isn’t even that big of a deal if you think of it.”
“Then why does he always wear those thick sweatshirts during all our training and games?” he pointed out. “It is the middle of the Summer Season and it’s boiling outside even in our shorts.”
“To feel just as hot and sweaty as we are while training or playing a game,” answered Scott. “That’s why he’s the best coach. He understands how his players feel and knows how to manage us properly because of that.”
“Well, you can have your theories and I can have mine,” Mark stated deciding to agree to disagree.
“The rest of the team is waiting for us,” commented Keith. “I’ll ask Coach Alex why he likes wearing heavy sweatshirts for you guys if you want.”
“Don’t do that!” they cried looking quite embarrassed at asking such a thing out of nowhere.
In the locker room, Scott, Alan, Keith, and Mark, joined the other four members on their team and took off their sweaty, smelly basketball shorts and t-shirts before entering the shower stalls to clean up. Despite their coach’s words to speak with them after the post-game wrap up he was not yet in the locker room. This not only made everyone all the more curious as to what he had to tell them, but also encouraged some typical jock hijinks.
“Yeow!” cried Scott as he rubbed his rear after a wet towel snapped at it. “Mark!”
“Don’t look at me,” he snickered not sounding very innocent. “I didn’t do it.”
“Sure you didn’t,” retorted Scott grinning as the removed his towel to twirl it up and snap it at Mark. The blue Windragon dodged it and it instead snapped at another player’s rear. It wasn’t long after that, that the shower was filled with the constant sounds of snapping towels not to mention and lot of “OWS!” and even more laughter.
A short while later, Alex walked and immediately overheard the battle taking place under the cover of shower steam. “Heh,” he snickered overhearing the roughhousing. “Boys will be boys. If you guys are done cleaning or whatever it is you call that, dry up and get dressed. I’m all set for the big announcement.”
With the exception of Mark getting one last towel snap in, the battle stopped and the team of Windragons dried themselves off. After that, they walked out of the shower, their hands rubbing their rears, several red streaks on them where their butts got whipped. Going to their lockers, they grabbed their gym bags and took out their change of clothes, some underwear, a white, sleeveless t-shirt, a pair of shorts or jeans, and their team jersey. Getting dressed, they couldn’t help but all indulge in their vain pleasure of admiring their muscular, toned bodies. They had been under coach Alex’s training since they were freshman and after over three years of a strict regiment the fruits of their labor was very evident. With how chiseled and built they were, it was clear they were all in peak condition and it filled them with such pride.
Their clothes fit snuggly against their bodies as they were dressed once more in clean, dry outfits. Putting on their blue jerseys last, they felt blissfully warm and snuggly in them and also felt proud to being in their official team jerseys that they worked so hard to earn. On the back of each jersey was the name of the team, “The Storms.” On the front was their team number along with a nickname of sorts below it, such as Scott was number 1 and his was “Firestorm” and Mark was number 4 and he was “Icestorm.”
“Everyone all set?” asked Alex sounding very excited, a trait the team really enjoyed about Alex over the incredibly strict, whistleblower, drill sergeant stereotype.
“Yes, coach,” they all answered and were on the edge of their seats due to the anticipation and the fact their rears were still sore.
“As you may have noticed, I have been getting quite a number of calls as of late,” he told them. “Well, I have been searching around for a company to sponsor us for some time as a means of obtaining some extra funds for the team for new equipment and outfits and I’m pleased to say we have finally managed to make a deal with one.”
“We’ve got a sponsor?” asked one of the team members.
“You mean like a pro team?” asked another.
“Does this mean we contracts?” asked Mark. “How much more than Scott do I make?”
“Who says you’d get more than me?” questioned Scott.
“Settle down now, everyone,” called Alex. “Yes we have a sponsor and it is just like with a pro team. No, Mark. You are making the same as Scott, nothing. All the proceeds go to the betterment of the team.”
“This all just feels so unreal,” admitted Alan. “I am also really surprised you kept quiet about it till now.”
“Well, it didn’t become official till after this last game,” admitted Alex. “They wanted to check you guys play a game and I’d say you impressed them quite a bit. So the deal is all set.”
“Awesome!” cheered Scott. “This is just the best. Let’s go tell everyone and it’ll be like a double celebration!”
“Yeah!” the team agreed. “Party! Party! Party!”
“There is a couple more things we have to go over,” Alex interrupted. “As a sponsored team, we are under contract to represent them properly. We will be getting new jerseys and uniforms to be worn at the games to advertise them. There will also be new signs and posters displayed in the gyms. Some of us might even be asked to pose for some advertisements and even be in commercials. And most importantly, after every game, we are required to sit down and have a meal of the sponsor’s provided product.”
“Well that sounds simple enough,” said Keith. “We need something to eat after an exhausting game like the one we just played, anyway.”
“Then wait right here,” Alex told them, a glint in his eyes hidden by his glasses and his lips curled to a smirk that went unnoticed by the team. He soon returned with a few carts with a couple dozen bags on them along with plastic cups filled with their drinks. The first thing the team noticed about the food they were given was that it smelled terribly good. Peeking inside, it confirmed their suspicion, it was fast food!
“Burgers? Nuggets? Fries?” Alan freaked. “And what’s in these cups?”
“Chocolate shake is in this one,” answered Keith who was drinking one already. The rest of the team stared at him like he had lost his mind. “What? I was hungry.”
“We haven’t eaten this kind of food since before high school,” Scott said in disbelief. “I don’t even remember what this stuff tastes like.”
“It tastes good,” answered Keith grabbing a burger and munching it.
“And here I thought that your nickname was ‘Brainstorm’ for ironic reasons,” Mark said sarcastically.
“We shouldn’t eat this stuff,” Alan said despite Keith now grabbing at some fries and a few other teammates were drooling from how tempted they were feeling. “This stuff is the last thing we should be supporting.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have a choice,” admitted Alex. “We only get the sponsorship if we do as they instruct us, including eating this food after this and every game we play from now on.”
“E-every game?” cried Alan looking at the grease-stained bags with a creeped out look on his face.
“And in between practices and any other time we are offered any,” added Alex. “It is their food and they want you to be seen eating and enjoying it as much as possible.”
“And just who is sponsoring us?” wondered Mark unable to stand being so hungry and started eating some fries with most of the other team. “You never mentioned that part.”
“It’s a newly established fast food chain,” Alex answered. “Foodnado. I think that’s supposed to combine the words ‘food’ and ‘tornado’ together and seeing what our team is called they liked the weather parallel.”
“Admittedly clever,” stated Scott. “But the fact remains that we cannot keep eating this food after every game. Once is bad enough, but if we have to eat all this so often then we’re going to start putting on weight and it’ll affect our performance during our games too.”
“I’m afraid that if you refuse,” said Alex sadly. “Then you will be removed from the team. We have no choice. We have to do this.”
“Can’t we just say we changed our mind?” wondered Alan. “I mean not like we’ve even started representing them yet. And who cares about a little extra money they want to throw our way?”
“It is more than a little,” admitted Alex. “The school board has had to cut funds and our season would come to a stop without it. I didn’t want to make you all feel obligated and feel pressured that this was the only way to continue our season, but it is. That’s why I was so desperate for any financial support. This would have been our last game tonight, but this was actually a miracle that can keep this team together. I know this wasn’t what you had expected, but just try to enjoy it or at least endure it the best you can for the remainder of the season. But don’t do it for me. Do it for the team.”
Save for the sounds of Keith still eating, there was a bit of silence as everyone was contemplating what to do. Then, slowly, one after another most of the team of Windragons started to eat the fast food before them, eating more than fries to stave off hunger. They grabbed shakes and burgers and ate them with unsure looks on their faces. They knew it was bad for them, but it also tasted so wonderfully good, even better than they remembered what fast food tasted like. After a few mouthfuls were swallowed their pace started to pick up.
Scott and Alan still sat their quietly, their food still untouched as they continued to ponder the dilemma they were up against. With a heavy sigh, Scott grabbed a burger and started to eat too. “Well, down the hatch.” He took a big bite and his taste buds ached from experiencing something so wonderfully delicious after so long. He could even feel tears welling up in his eyes.
“Not you too,” cried Alan in disbelief that the whole team was now eating a meal of pure grease as he saw it. “We shouldn’t eat this stuff. It isn’t healthy.”
“What would be the point in not eating it?” Scott told him. “Either we eat and keep playing or we don’t and are off the team. All our hard work will be in vain if we don’t do this. We just need to work off all the calories this food gives up and it’ll all even out. After all, we’re ‘The Storms’ and it’ll take more than a few burgers and fries to beat us.”
“I hope you’re right,” commented Alan as he grabbed the bag closest to him and unwrapped a burger. He paused questioning if this was really a good idea and with a sigh of his own, he munched down on it and loathed himself for how much he enjoyed the grease-filled deliciousness of it.
Days passed and for The Storms, they quickly discovered what it was like to be sponsored by a fast food company. At any time, without any warning at all, a representative of the company could show up out of the blue with a big greasy bag of food in one hand and a video camera in the other. It didn’t matter if it was at home, on the street, or even during class. They came in and sat the food down in front of the Windragon and began recording, waiting to film them eating their food and how much they enjoyed it.
When this first started to happen, the team members were quick to protest (save for Keith who didn’t have any qualms with doing as he was told). They complained that it was unhealthy and would make them fat and perform poorly in their games. Their words only amounted to the representatives stopping and erasing that take to start again, but not before reminding them, “If you don’t follow the contract then either we pull our funding and will no longer sponsor your team or you will no longer be on the team. It is your choice.”
“F-fine,” they’d grumble or say something along those lines knowing that it was the only option they had available to them. Grabbing burger or fries or nuggets they’d begin to feast while the camera recorded them doing so with a smile on their face (real or forced).
As the days went on and this treatment became routine to them, the team members stopped arguing with the reps and simply ate the food without any complaints. Scott and Alan took the longest to stop their protests, something that was incredibly difficult for them to do as the daily doses of that saturated with fat food finally started to take it’s toll and their normally hard and chiseled bodies were starting to get a little soft around their bellies.
“It hasn’t even been two weeks and we’re starting to get muscle guts,” cried Alan in a panic. “Just what kind of crazy food is this?”
“No idea,” admitted Scott poking at his gut, seeing it like a flaw on an otherwise perfect piece of art, but feel a strange enjoyment out if it that he couldn’t quite understand or wish to admit. “Even with all the food they give us we should have been burning off the calories with all our training.”
“I can barely focus on training,” admitted Mark. “They keep popping up when we’re training with Coach Alex so we always gotta take a break to eat. After that we feel too stuffed to exercise much after that. And whenever I try working out at night they seem to know just when I’m starting to break a sweat cause my doorbell rings and seconds later my mouth starts watering from the smell of deep-fried greasy food.”
“Don’t you mean wretch?” asked Alan. “Cause I’m so sick of this food I don’t even wanna see fast food ever again.”
“That why did you stuff that three cheese burger bomb with bacon into your face ten minutes ago?” reminded Mark to Alan’s embarrassment. “And don’t tell me you try to eat it so fast you can’t taste it cause you kept it in your maw for five minutes before finishing it up.”
“Just shut up,” groaned Alan poking at his own softening belly. “Just shut up.”
“Hey guys!” called Ketih chugging down another chocolate shake while holding a burger he already bit into in his other hand. “This sponsoring thing is working out great, huh? All the food we can eat. It’s like getting paid for having fun… except the getting paid part.”
None of them answered as he walked off to keep eating. They were too focused on his gut that was now poking out from between his shorts and shirt. He also had some flab on the rest of his body too and a sure sign of what was to befall all of them at the rate things were going.
“This is a nightmare,” cried Alan. “It doesn’t matter that we are still a team. Before you know it our performance will drop. We’ll get sluggish and lethargic from this food not to mention the fat that’s gonna weigh us down. How will we be able to win games, let alone play them?”
“Just remain calm,” instructed Scott trying to keep Alan from losing it. “None of that has happened yet. We’re still the best team out there even with this handicap. Our next game is tomorrow and we already know it’ll be an easy win. If we do that then you’ll see that this chub won’t be the end of us. We won’t be defeated by a couple pounds of fat!”
Scott’s words did manage to give Alan some comfort as well as the other members of the team who had heard what he said. When they played their game, just as Scott said, even with their cumbersome pudge they proved more than a match for the other team and won by quite a number of points. When the final buzzer sounded and they congratulated the other team for a good game they retreated to the lockers to shower off. The thought of their sponsor and the fast food left their minds for the first time since they learned about it, but only for that short amount of time.
In the shower, they washed up, trying their best not to take notice of the softness their bodies gained from the food or how they were starting to get a jiggle in their belly and rear. Mark even restrained himself from starting another towel fight. But as the showers got filled with hot steam and visibility became more difficult, the team members couldn’t help giving their new pudge a curious rub or grope, finding it enjoyable to do. A low murr escaped from their mouths from time to time, but they quickly went quiet, worried what the other members of the team might say if they knew they were actually growing fond of these new bits of lard they had gained.
When they all felt thoroughly washed and had their full of body groping, they shut the showers off and then they dried themselves off. As they got dressed, they discovered that their jerseys were different. There looked exactly the same, but they noticed stains and tears that should have been in them were no longer there. Another difference they noticed was that they were quite a bit heavier than their old jerseys and felt warmer when they put them on.
“Do you like the new jerseys?” asked Alex bringing in their cart of post game fast food. “Just another perk of being sponsored.”
“They are nice,” agreed Scott, glad that this surprise didn’t make his mouth water like the food that was placed before the team.
Without complaining, the team grabbed the food from their bags and quickly noticed another change that left them staring in awe. The food was noticeably bigger, all of it. The burgers that were normally as big as any other burger a fast food restaurant would offer now looked twice as big. The box of fries were bigger too like two or three large orders of fries were combined together. The nuggets were also bigger, almost enough to only be able to fit one comfortably in their claws.
“What’s with this food?” questioned Alan. “It wasn’t like this before.”
“Apparently while reviewing the videos they determined that you were eating the food too fast so they concluded that there wasn’t enough in there for a proper meal so they recalibrated the serving sizes accordingly,” explained Alex.
“Mmm,” munched Keith already stuffing his face. “Tastes even better too.” His words seemed to convince most of the rest of the team to grab some food and begin eating. Even Mark was quick to join in and their eyes lit up in delight as the succulent flavor hit their tongues. Scott and Alan watched them all go from eating the food to downright binging it. The two of them could see in their eyes they were hooked on the food and the bigger portions were only helping urge their cravings. It scared them, but not as much as knowing that they themselves were feeling the same desire to glut and barely able to hold back.
“What’s wrong?” asked Alex looking at the two Windragons not eating. “You haven’t eaten your food yet. Don’t want it to get cold, do you?”
“Think we can still stay in shape at this rate?” Alan asked Scott. Scott didn’t answer and instead started to stuff his face too. Seeing this, Alan just sighed and gave in to eating too sensing they were all far beyond the point of no return already.
More days passed and the fast food of Foodnado kept being crammed down this team of eight’s gullets. They went from two or three meals of it a day in the first couple of weeks to four or five by the third week. In the week to follow the number had gone up even more forcing the Windragons to ignore any other food and make their diets consist entirely on this food overflowing with grease. It was something that would have originally made them sick to even consider such unhealthy food, but now they were counting the minutes till their next meal would arrive. Drool leaked from their maws in anticipation and their tongues were constantly licking at their muzzles for any grease they still had on them.
Their muscular bodies grew fatter and softer by the day. Their muscles were becoming less and less defined till they had to flex to show it under their blubber. Most of their clothes was becoming too small to fit, but their sponsor was kind enough to provide them with more clothes bearing their logo for them to wear. It consisted of thick sweatpants, sweatshirt, even scarves, gloves, and boots. The Windragons looked ready for a blizzard when fully dressed in their new garb and it was the middle of a particularly hot Summer. Even while the AC was blasting in a room they felt like they were in a sauna and sweat soaked into the inner layers of their clothes. Many suggested that they take off all that heavy gear if it made them sweat like pigs, but they all refused.
“We have to or we’ll be off the team,” panted Scott.
“A-at least,” wheezed Alan wiping his sweat-soaked forehead. “We’re sweating out some of this fat right?” He them crammed another burger between his chubby cheeks.
“I’d take it off” chuckled Mark trying to ignore how insanely hot he felt with jokes. “But these clothes are the only thing keeping my fat from burying you all alive underneath my girth. Don’t believe me? Wanna find out?”
“This feels strangely good,” smiled Keith hugging his jersey as he perspired like the rest.
Whether they were making excuses, jokes, or downright admitting it, it was quite noticable that the Windragons were enjoying all their layers and sweating in them. More than a few murrs passed through their lips and they were constantly seen hugging their bodies tightly to revel in the intense heat that was wrapped around their bodies. The look in their eyes showed comfort, enjoyment, and even ecstasy. To anyone else, they felt ready to collapse from heat stroke just seeing them so unnecessarily bundled up as they were.
“It’s good to have some weight under your belts,” Alex told his team as he watched them waddle best they could as they did laps about the gym. “The other team won’t be able to stop a bunch of Windragons built like tanks.”
“They won’t have to worry about stopping us since they can outrun us now,” figured Scott as their did one lap in the time they could normally do three. All the clothes they had on, along with being overheated, was a detriment to their performance, but with all their weight they put on it was clear that they had fallen far from their peak and with the next game coming up they were not looking forward to how they’d do. The only thing about the game they were looking forward to was the post game meal and any new gifts that Foodnado had in store for them. As they imagined then next big meal in their future, an occasional “murr~” did slip through their lips from time to time, a sound that made Alex smile while zipping up another thick sweatshirt overtop the ones he already had on.
The next game they played went from bad to worse. From the start, The Storms were barely able to keep up with the pace of the opposing team as they ran the ball to the hoop while they clambered behind them. By the second half of the game, they were barely able to waddle let alone muster the strength to play. The other team barely needed to try and spent some of the time running circles around The Storms teasingly and the other half widening the gap in the score. When the final buzzer rang, the game ended with The Storms amazingly getting enough points to at least reach double digits while the other team had more than triple their score. It was a humiliating defeat for Scott and the rest of the team that was barely able to stay on their feet by the end and their walk into the locker rooms felt like the longest trek they ever took in their lives.
“We were pitiful today,” sighed Scott. “We’re not the team we once were.”
“We’re fat… overweight… slow…” groaned Alan.
“Hungry,” added Keith rubbing his gut. “All that work builds up an appetite.”
“Speaking of work,” snickered Mark. “How’s the work coming on that triple chin of yours? A few more burgers and it should take shape nicely. Then you can focus on widening the hills between that valley you call a rear.”
“You are hardly one to talk about fat jokes,” mentioned Scott tugging at one of Mark’s love handles. “You’re just as fat as Keith is now. We all are.”
“No law that says a fatso can’t make a fat joke, is there,” stated Mark. “Besides a little laughter helps with a stinging defeat.”
“The one good thing,” commented Alan. “Is that at least we shouldn’t be ‘rewarded’ for winning the game. Cause if we keep getting stuff for playing well I’d rather keep losing and avoid falling even deeper into gluttony than we already have.” Despite saying this, it was far from how he really felt.
“Yeah,” agreed the others as they opened the doors to the locker room and were hit with the overwhelming odors of fast food and saw that their post game meal was already prepared for them along with thick parkas that were designed for the bitterest of arctic chills.
“It was a hard played game and looks like Foodnado has decided to give you all a banquet in celebration as well as these big coats. They have a few more changes they wanted to implement if that’s all okay with all of you.”
“Sure is,” they answered rushing in quickly to grab their jackets before gathering around the food to devour it, the negative feelings instantly gone as the desire to glut kicked in.
“Heheh,” chuckled Alex watching his team make pigs of themselves and further ruin their figures. “That’s it everyone. You played a hard game. Gotta eat and recharge and maybe pack on a few more pounds while you’re at it.”
“Omnomnomnomnom,” they binged barely listening to what their coach said. The team that played like a well-oiled machine was now more like an eating machine as burgers, fries, shakes, and newly added menu items like onion rings, deep-fried donuts, and large slices of cake were scarfed down savagely. The food had once more grown in size. A single burger looked big enough to be divided among a family of four for a meal and yet these dragons were eating them down like they were nothing and hastily scrambling to devour something else.
Alex walked around them as they ate and looked over their jackets seeing their new nicknames that Foodnado had provided them. Scott’s was now “Fat Storm” and Alan’s had become “Eating Machine.” Keith’s name went from “Brain Storm” to “Thunder Thighs” and Mark’s was “Tiny,” a nickname that almost made him laugh the new extra thick and creamy chocolate shake out his nose when he saw it.
After eating, the team spent some time basking in the even greater warmth of their parkas. Sweat ran down their faces like a waterfall on a mountain. Their faces glistened from their perspiration and drops of sweat dripped the tips of their noses. Sweat soaked through a few of their innermost layers and their shoes felt flooded with water up to their ankles. None of these Windragons had ever felt this incredibly hot and sweaty before and they like it a lot.
“You guys just enjoy yourselves,” Alex told them. “I’ll be right back. I just need to make a phone call.” None of his players answered him or even noticed. They were too distracted cuddling against their warmth.
The next day, everyone expected that after that defeat, that The Storms would have been very down and done whatever was needed to get themselves back in shape, even if it meant losing their sponsor in the process. But the next day they founds the team of eight in as high spirits as ever as they went through school sweating in more layers than ever. With how happy they were strutting around they were acting like they won the championship already. Everyone who saw them couldn’t be staring and wonder what they had to eat to put on another hundred pounds of blubber overnight.
“Are you guys okay?”
“We’re more than okay,” answered Scott. “We’re great!”
“I feel better than I’ve ever felt in my life,” stated Alan rubbing at his lard swollen face. “Aren’t I the picture of health?”
“You are definitely warm and snuggly,” murred Keith as he hugged him tight. “Mmm~ and so am I.”
“Either I’m insanely fat or you guys must be far away,” joked Mark looking at his much more lithe classmates. “Eh, I’m fat.”
“Don’t you think you guys might have a problem with that food you are eating?”
“A problem?” they asked. “Nah. We’re all perfectly fine. It’s just food We might not have been crazy about it at first, but we’ve actually grown to enjoy it, in moderation, of course.”
Then the wonderful aroma entered the school through the windows and truck’s horn blared. “Time for more eats!” called the driver.
“FOOD!” squealed The Storms with hoggish delight and ran outside with the force of a stampede. Everyone rushed out of their way to avoid getting trampled by the Windragons and then watched them hurry to the truck and bang on the back doors impatient to get to the food and cram that lard-filled goodness past their lips.
The door to the truck opened in the back and to the team’s surprise, the one who greeted them was none other than their coach, Alex. “Well, look what we got here. My fat little piggies are all ready and present for more food.”
“Coach?” asked Scott confused. “What are you doing here?”
“It seems the school board was not too thrilled with me,” he admitted with a guilty-looking smile on his face. “Seems I wasn’t really allowed to go out on my own to get a corporate sponsor and allow them to do… well, that to you guys. And it also seems that I may have been wrong about the school lacking the funds for the team so everything you’ve all done to keep playing basketball was for nothing unless you wanna count the eight tons of blubber put on between the eight of you. So, needless to say, I got the boot, but luckily Foodnado decided to hire me on since you eight are still under contract and still in need of a coach. So pretty much the same as before, but I get to take extra care and make sure you all eat well.”
“You say something?” belched Alan already stuffing food into his face along with the others.
“Nothing important,” chuckled Alex. “Just keep on eating and become the best bunch of lard dragons you can be.”
One massive meal that cleaned out the entire truck of food and likely to add even more to the already considerable girth of the team later, Alex once more filled them in on their situation. This time, they listened now that their bellies were sated.
“So, are we still going to be playing basketball?” Scott asked. “We lost terribly last game and with how we are now, we’re likely to do even worse. I doubt we can even score as we are.”
“It isn’t likely that we will be playing any more basketball now,” Alex told them. “You guys aren’t the right shape for that, but it just so happens that Foodnado has been in the market to create a team to compete with other fatty food companies for a new sporting event specifically for plus-sized athletes like yourselves.”
“You mean ones that make sumos look just chubby by comparison,” joked Mark.
“Depends what kind of sumos you are referring to,” replied Alex. “Sumo is one of the events, along with the iron gut eat off, sweatshirt layering competition, and soda can belch off. And those are just a few of the events that are planned. So, tell me, are you guys interested in competing in something far more enjoyable than dribbling a ball back and forth around the court?”
The team huddled close as their obesity would allow them as they quickly discussed Alex’s offer. It barely took more than a minute before they turned back to Alex to give him their answer.
“Before we tell you,” Mark spoke up. “We’d like a couple honest answers from you. First off, was all this part of your plan from the beginning? To turn us from strong athletes in our prime into fast food-addicted balls of blubber constantly covered in layers of hot, sweaty clothes? Was all this what you planned for us all along?”
“Yes,” Alex told them.
“Good enough for me,” said Scott as they climbed on the truck causing the frame to creak and get weighed down.
“Thanks for being honest with us,” Keith said as he tried to sit down as best he could and leave space for the others to sit down, their rumps forced to smoosh against one another’s in order to make sure all eight of them were able to be in the van at once.
“Let’s go and compete,” stated Alan. “And grab some more food on the way. I doubt that snack will keep us full for very long.”
“It’ll be a challenge to get you guys full the way you are now, but you’ll all have all the fast food you could ever want after today.”
“Then get that skinny rump of yours in the driver’s seat and get us outta here!” demanded Scott.
“Heheh, looks like I’d better start eating more myself,” chuckled Alex as he squirmed his way to the front of the truck to the driver’s seat. It would have been easier to reach by walking around outside the truck, but he didn’t want to miss out on rubbing and groping at his obese team’s flab as he made his way between their massive guts. “It wouldn’t do to make you guys so big compared to your coach now, would it?”
“One more thing,” said Mark. “All this definitely proves that you have a thing for fatties and hot, heavy layers to make you sweat. I mean isn’t it pretty obvious at this point?”
“It is and I am,” Alex stated proudly as he got the car into gear. “There’s a great, big, fat world out there and I’m sure you’re all dying to see it while it is just as eager to meet all of you.”
FattyDragonite“Ten seconds left on the clock!” shouted the announcer as caught up in the excitement of the basketball game as the fans on the bleachers were. “Number 4, Mark has got the ball and he’s bobbing and weaving his way through the opposition. Look at that speed and concentration! Is he going to shoot? No! He fakes and passes the ball to Number 2, Alan who quickly passes to Number 3, Keith. The away team is scrambling. They can’t keep track of who has the ball, but the time is almost up. Three seconds and counting! Keith still has the ball and he’s getting surrounded. Is there anything he can- yes there is! He’s lobbed the ball towards the hoop and Number 1, Scott, is there for the dunk! BAM!!! Just as all hope seemes lost The Storms have pulled off another amazing victory and their fans are going wild! And who can blame them? When those four are playing it truly is the perfect storm!”
“Great job today,” panted Scott the red Windragon as he shook Alan, the green Windragon’s hand tight.
“You were the one getting us all fired up for that last ditch effort,” he answered feeling rather embarrassed. “I just did the best I could.”
“We all gave 110% just like coach said,” the yellow Windragon Keith stated happily. “I’ve got no idea how we do more than 100%, but it sure does help.”
“That’s just an expression,” the blue Windragon, Mark, told him putting his arm around Keith’s shoulder. “Kind of like there is no ‘I’ in team.”
“I know there’s not,” replied Keith. “Why would anyone even try to spell ‘team’ like that?”
“Man you’re dumb,” laughed Mark. “But we love ya anyway.”
“Everyone!” called Alex the orange Windragon and coach of the team. “When you get done with the end game wrap-up I need the whole team into the locker room. I’ve got a major announcement and a big surprise for you all.”
“Coach has something to tell us?” wondered Scott as the team lined up and walked towards a line made up by the other team to shake hands to show good sportsmanship. “He usually just lets us wash up after the game and then go home to celebrate.”
“He’s been pretty preoccupied with something the last few days,” commented Alan. “During practice he’s been getting a number of phone calls, but he won’t tell us what they’re for.”
“Maybe he’s got a cute lady dragon he’s seeing,” joked Mark. “One that likes lots and lots of layers.”
“Shh! Are you going on about that rumor?” hushed Alan feeling a bit awkward to hear such talk while they were in the middle of shaking hands with the opposing team. His hushing managed to quiet them till they finished shaking claws and the other team and the other four members of their team dispersed to go to the locker rooms, while the fans exited via the nearest exits. Pretty soon, those four Windragons were the only ones left on the court. “That whole ‘likes wearing lots of thick clothes and getting hot and sweaty?’ I doubt it’s true and it isn’t even that big of a deal if you think of it.”
“Then why does he always wear those thick sweatshirts during all our training and games?” he pointed out. “It is the middle of the Summer Season and it’s boiling outside even in our shorts.”
“To feel just as hot and sweaty as we are while training or playing a game,” answered Scott. “That’s why he’s the best coach. He understands how his players feel and knows how to manage us properly because of that.”
“Well, you can have your theories and I can have mine,” Mark stated deciding to agree to disagree.
“The rest of the team is waiting for us,” commented Keith. “I’ll ask Coach Alex why he likes wearing heavy sweatshirts for you guys if you want.”
“Don’t do that!” they cried looking quite embarrassed at asking such a thing out of nowhere.
In the locker room, Scott, Alan, Keith, and Mark, joined the other four members on their team and took off their sweaty, smelly basketball shorts and t-shirts before entering the shower stalls to clean up. Despite their coach’s words to speak with them after the post-game wrap up he was not yet in the locker room. This not only made everyone all the more curious as to what he had to tell them, but also encouraged some typical jock hijinks.
“Yeow!” cried Scott as he rubbed his rear after a wet towel snapped at it. “Mark!”
“Don’t look at me,” he snickered not sounding very innocent. “I didn’t do it.”
“Sure you didn’t,” retorted Scott grinning as the removed his towel to twirl it up and snap it at Mark. The blue Windragon dodged it and it instead snapped at another player’s rear. It wasn’t long after that, that the shower was filled with the constant sounds of snapping towels not to mention and lot of “OWS!” and even more laughter.
A short while later, Alex walked and immediately overheard the battle taking place under the cover of shower steam. “Heh,” he snickered overhearing the roughhousing. “Boys will be boys. If you guys are done cleaning or whatever it is you call that, dry up and get dressed. I’m all set for the big announcement.”
With the exception of Mark getting one last towel snap in, the battle stopped and the team of Windragons dried themselves off. After that, they walked out of the shower, their hands rubbing their rears, several red streaks on them where their butts got whipped. Going to their lockers, they grabbed their gym bags and took out their change of clothes, some underwear, a white, sleeveless t-shirt, a pair of shorts or jeans, and their team jersey. Getting dressed, they couldn’t help but all indulge in their vain pleasure of admiring their muscular, toned bodies. They had been under coach Alex’s training since they were freshman and after over three years of a strict regiment the fruits of their labor was very evident. With how chiseled and built they were, it was clear they were all in peak condition and it filled them with such pride.
Their clothes fit snuggly against their bodies as they were dressed once more in clean, dry outfits. Putting on their blue jerseys last, they felt blissfully warm and snuggly in them and also felt proud to being in their official team jerseys that they worked so hard to earn. On the back of each jersey was the name of the team, “The Storms.” On the front was their team number along with a nickname of sorts below it, such as Scott was number 1 and his was “Firestorm” and Mark was number 4 and he was “Icestorm.”
“Everyone all set?” asked Alex sounding very excited, a trait the team really enjoyed about Alex over the incredibly strict, whistleblower, drill sergeant stereotype.
“Yes, coach,” they all answered and were on the edge of their seats due to the anticipation and the fact their rears were still sore.
“As you may have noticed, I have been getting quite a number of calls as of late,” he told them. “Well, I have been searching around for a company to sponsor us for some time as a means of obtaining some extra funds for the team for new equipment and outfits and I’m pleased to say we have finally managed to make a deal with one.”
“We’ve got a sponsor?” asked one of the team members.
“You mean like a pro team?” asked another.
“Does this mean we contracts?” asked Mark. “How much more than Scott do I make?”
“Who says you’d get more than me?” questioned Scott.
“Settle down now, everyone,” called Alex. “Yes we have a sponsor and it is just like with a pro team. No, Mark. You are making the same as Scott, nothing. All the proceeds go to the betterment of the team.”
“This all just feels so unreal,” admitted Alan. “I am also really surprised you kept quiet about it till now.”
“Well, it didn’t become official till after this last game,” admitted Alex. “They wanted to check you guys play a game and I’d say you impressed them quite a bit. So the deal is all set.”
“Awesome!” cheered Scott. “This is just the best. Let’s go tell everyone and it’ll be like a double celebration!”
“Yeah!” the team agreed. “Party! Party! Party!”
“There is a couple more things we have to go over,” Alex interrupted. “As a sponsored team, we are under contract to represent them properly. We will be getting new jerseys and uniforms to be worn at the games to advertise them. There will also be new signs and posters displayed in the gyms. Some of us might even be asked to pose for some advertisements and even be in commercials. And most importantly, after every game, we are required to sit down and have a meal of the sponsor’s provided product.”
“Well that sounds simple enough,” said Keith. “We need something to eat after an exhausting game like the one we just played, anyway.”
“Then wait right here,” Alex told them, a glint in his eyes hidden by his glasses and his lips curled to a smirk that went unnoticed by the team. He soon returned with a few carts with a couple dozen bags on them along with plastic cups filled with their drinks. The first thing the team noticed about the food they were given was that it smelled terribly good. Peeking inside, it confirmed their suspicion, it was fast food!
“Burgers? Nuggets? Fries?” Alan freaked. “And what’s in these cups?”
“Chocolate shake is in this one,” answered Keith who was drinking one already. The rest of the team stared at him like he had lost his mind. “What? I was hungry.”
“We haven’t eaten this kind of food since before high school,” Scott said in disbelief. “I don’t even remember what this stuff tastes like.”
“It tastes good,” answered Keith grabbing a burger and munching it.
“And here I thought that your nickname was ‘Brainstorm’ for ironic reasons,” Mark said sarcastically.
“We shouldn’t eat this stuff,” Alan said despite Keith now grabbing at some fries and a few other teammates were drooling from how tempted they were feeling. “This stuff is the last thing we should be supporting.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have a choice,” admitted Alex. “We only get the sponsorship if we do as they instruct us, including eating this food after this and every game we play from now on.”
“E-every game?” cried Alan looking at the grease-stained bags with a creeped out look on his face.
“And in between practices and any other time we are offered any,” added Alex. “It is their food and they want you to be seen eating and enjoying it as much as possible.”
“And just who is sponsoring us?” wondered Mark unable to stand being so hungry and started eating some fries with most of the other team. “You never mentioned that part.”
“It’s a newly established fast food chain,” Alex answered. “Foodnado. I think that’s supposed to combine the words ‘food’ and ‘tornado’ together and seeing what our team is called they liked the weather parallel.”
“Admittedly clever,” stated Scott. “But the fact remains that we cannot keep eating this food after every game. Once is bad enough, but if we have to eat all this so often then we’re going to start putting on weight and it’ll affect our performance during our games too.”
“I’m afraid that if you refuse,” said Alex sadly. “Then you will be removed from the team. We have no choice. We have to do this.”
“Can’t we just say we changed our mind?” wondered Alan. “I mean not like we’ve even started representing them yet. And who cares about a little extra money they want to throw our way?”
“It is more than a little,” admitted Alex. “The school board has had to cut funds and our season would come to a stop without it. I didn’t want to make you all feel obligated and feel pressured that this was the only way to continue our season, but it is. That’s why I was so desperate for any financial support. This would have been our last game tonight, but this was actually a miracle that can keep this team together. I know this wasn’t what you had expected, but just try to enjoy it or at least endure it the best you can for the remainder of the season. But don’t do it for me. Do it for the team.”
Save for the sounds of Keith still eating, there was a bit of silence as everyone was contemplating what to do. Then, slowly, one after another most of the team of Windragons started to eat the fast food before them, eating more than fries to stave off hunger. They grabbed shakes and burgers and ate them with unsure looks on their faces. They knew it was bad for them, but it also tasted so wonderfully good, even better than they remembered what fast food tasted like. After a few mouthfuls were swallowed their pace started to pick up.
Scott and Alan still sat their quietly, their food still untouched as they continued to ponder the dilemma they were up against. With a heavy sigh, Scott grabbed a burger and started to eat too. “Well, down the hatch.” He took a big bite and his taste buds ached from experiencing something so wonderfully delicious after so long. He could even feel tears welling up in his eyes.
“Not you too,” cried Alan in disbelief that the whole team was now eating a meal of pure grease as he saw it. “We shouldn’t eat this stuff. It isn’t healthy.”
“What would be the point in not eating it?” Scott told him. “Either we eat and keep playing or we don’t and are off the team. All our hard work will be in vain if we don’t do this. We just need to work off all the calories this food gives up and it’ll all even out. After all, we’re ‘The Storms’ and it’ll take more than a few burgers and fries to beat us.”
“I hope you’re right,” commented Alan as he grabbed the bag closest to him and unwrapped a burger. He paused questioning if this was really a good idea and with a sigh of his own, he munched down on it and loathed himself for how much he enjoyed the grease-filled deliciousness of it.
Days passed and for The Storms, they quickly discovered what it was like to be sponsored by a fast food company. At any time, without any warning at all, a representative of the company could show up out of the blue with a big greasy bag of food in one hand and a video camera in the other. It didn’t matter if it was at home, on the street, or even during class. They came in and sat the food down in front of the Windragon and began recording, waiting to film them eating their food and how much they enjoyed it.
When this first started to happen, the team members were quick to protest (save for Keith who didn’t have any qualms with doing as he was told). They complained that it was unhealthy and would make them fat and perform poorly in their games. Their words only amounted to the representatives stopping and erasing that take to start again, but not before reminding them, “If you don’t follow the contract then either we pull our funding and will no longer sponsor your team or you will no longer be on the team. It is your choice.”
“F-fine,” they’d grumble or say something along those lines knowing that it was the only option they had available to them. Grabbing burger or fries or nuggets they’d begin to feast while the camera recorded them doing so with a smile on their face (real or forced).
As the days went on and this treatment became routine to them, the team members stopped arguing with the reps and simply ate the food without any complaints. Scott and Alan took the longest to stop their protests, something that was incredibly difficult for them to do as the daily doses of that saturated with fat food finally started to take it’s toll and their normally hard and chiseled bodies were starting to get a little soft around their bellies.
“It hasn’t even been two weeks and we’re starting to get muscle guts,” cried Alan in a panic. “Just what kind of crazy food is this?”
“No idea,” admitted Scott poking at his gut, seeing it like a flaw on an otherwise perfect piece of art, but feel a strange enjoyment out if it that he couldn’t quite understand or wish to admit. “Even with all the food they give us we should have been burning off the calories with all our training.”
“I can barely focus on training,” admitted Mark. “They keep popping up when we’re training with Coach Alex so we always gotta take a break to eat. After that we feel too stuffed to exercise much after that. And whenever I try working out at night they seem to know just when I’m starting to break a sweat cause my doorbell rings and seconds later my mouth starts watering from the smell of deep-fried greasy food.”
“Don’t you mean wretch?” asked Alan. “Cause I’m so sick of this food I don’t even wanna see fast food ever again.”
“That why did you stuff that three cheese burger bomb with bacon into your face ten minutes ago?” reminded Mark to Alan’s embarrassment. “And don’t tell me you try to eat it so fast you can’t taste it cause you kept it in your maw for five minutes before finishing it up.”
“Just shut up,” groaned Alan poking at his own softening belly. “Just shut up.”
“Hey guys!” called Ketih chugging down another chocolate shake while holding a burger he already bit into in his other hand. “This sponsoring thing is working out great, huh? All the food we can eat. It’s like getting paid for having fun… except the getting paid part.”
None of them answered as he walked off to keep eating. They were too focused on his gut that was now poking out from between his shorts and shirt. He also had some flab on the rest of his body too and a sure sign of what was to befall all of them at the rate things were going.
“This is a nightmare,” cried Alan. “It doesn’t matter that we are still a team. Before you know it our performance will drop. We’ll get sluggish and lethargic from this food not to mention the fat that’s gonna weigh us down. How will we be able to win games, let alone play them?”
“Just remain calm,” instructed Scott trying to keep Alan from losing it. “None of that has happened yet. We’re still the best team out there even with this handicap. Our next game is tomorrow and we already know it’ll be an easy win. If we do that then you’ll see that this chub won’t be the end of us. We won’t be defeated by a couple pounds of fat!”
Scott’s words did manage to give Alan some comfort as well as the other members of the team who had heard what he said. When they played their game, just as Scott said, even with their cumbersome pudge they proved more than a match for the other team and won by quite a number of points. When the final buzzer sounded and they congratulated the other team for a good game they retreated to the lockers to shower off. The thought of their sponsor and the fast food left their minds for the first time since they learned about it, but only for that short amount of time.
In the shower, they washed up, trying their best not to take notice of the softness their bodies gained from the food or how they were starting to get a jiggle in their belly and rear. Mark even restrained himself from starting another towel fight. But as the showers got filled with hot steam and visibility became more difficult, the team members couldn’t help giving their new pudge a curious rub or grope, finding it enjoyable to do. A low murr escaped from their mouths from time to time, but they quickly went quiet, worried what the other members of the team might say if they knew they were actually growing fond of these new bits of lard they had gained.
When they all felt thoroughly washed and had their full of body groping, they shut the showers off and then they dried themselves off. As they got dressed, they discovered that their jerseys were different. There looked exactly the same, but they noticed stains and tears that should have been in them were no longer there. Another difference they noticed was that they were quite a bit heavier than their old jerseys and felt warmer when they put them on.
“Do you like the new jerseys?” asked Alex bringing in their cart of post game fast food. “Just another perk of being sponsored.”
“They are nice,” agreed Scott, glad that this surprise didn’t make his mouth water like the food that was placed before the team.
Without complaining, the team grabbed the food from their bags and quickly noticed another change that left them staring in awe. The food was noticeably bigger, all of it. The burgers that were normally as big as any other burger a fast food restaurant would offer now looked twice as big. The box of fries were bigger too like two or three large orders of fries were combined together. The nuggets were also bigger, almost enough to only be able to fit one comfortably in their claws.
“What’s with this food?” questioned Alan. “It wasn’t like this before.”
“Apparently while reviewing the videos they determined that you were eating the food too fast so they concluded that there wasn’t enough in there for a proper meal so they recalibrated the serving sizes accordingly,” explained Alex.
“Mmm,” munched Keith already stuffing his face. “Tastes even better too.” His words seemed to convince most of the rest of the team to grab some food and begin eating. Even Mark was quick to join in and their eyes lit up in delight as the succulent flavor hit their tongues. Scott and Alan watched them all go from eating the food to downright binging it. The two of them could see in their eyes they were hooked on the food and the bigger portions were only helping urge their cravings. It scared them, but not as much as knowing that they themselves were feeling the same desire to glut and barely able to hold back.
“What’s wrong?” asked Alex looking at the two Windragons not eating. “You haven’t eaten your food yet. Don’t want it to get cold, do you?”
“Think we can still stay in shape at this rate?” Alan asked Scott. Scott didn’t answer and instead started to stuff his face too. Seeing this, Alan just sighed and gave in to eating too sensing they were all far beyond the point of no return already.
More days passed and the fast food of Foodnado kept being crammed down this team of eight’s gullets. They went from two or three meals of it a day in the first couple of weeks to four or five by the third week. In the week to follow the number had gone up even more forcing the Windragons to ignore any other food and make their diets consist entirely on this food overflowing with grease. It was something that would have originally made them sick to even consider such unhealthy food, but now they were counting the minutes till their next meal would arrive. Drool leaked from their maws in anticipation and their tongues were constantly licking at their muzzles for any grease they still had on them.
Their muscular bodies grew fatter and softer by the day. Their muscles were becoming less and less defined till they had to flex to show it under their blubber. Most of their clothes was becoming too small to fit, but their sponsor was kind enough to provide them with more clothes bearing their logo for them to wear. It consisted of thick sweatpants, sweatshirt, even scarves, gloves, and boots. The Windragons looked ready for a blizzard when fully dressed in their new garb and it was the middle of a particularly hot Summer. Even while the AC was blasting in a room they felt like they were in a sauna and sweat soaked into the inner layers of their clothes. Many suggested that they take off all that heavy gear if it made them sweat like pigs, but they all refused.
“We have to or we’ll be off the team,” panted Scott.
“A-at least,” wheezed Alan wiping his sweat-soaked forehead. “We’re sweating out some of this fat right?” He them crammed another burger between his chubby cheeks.
“I’d take it off” chuckled Mark trying to ignore how insanely hot he felt with jokes. “But these clothes are the only thing keeping my fat from burying you all alive underneath my girth. Don’t believe me? Wanna find out?”
“This feels strangely good,” smiled Keith hugging his jersey as he perspired like the rest.
Whether they were making excuses, jokes, or downright admitting it, it was quite noticable that the Windragons were enjoying all their layers and sweating in them. More than a few murrs passed through their lips and they were constantly seen hugging their bodies tightly to revel in the intense heat that was wrapped around their bodies. The look in their eyes showed comfort, enjoyment, and even ecstasy. To anyone else, they felt ready to collapse from heat stroke just seeing them so unnecessarily bundled up as they were.
“It’s good to have some weight under your belts,” Alex told his team as he watched them waddle best they could as they did laps about the gym. “The other team won’t be able to stop a bunch of Windragons built like tanks.”
“They won’t have to worry about stopping us since they can outrun us now,” figured Scott as their did one lap in the time they could normally do three. All the clothes they had on, along with being overheated, was a detriment to their performance, but with all their weight they put on it was clear that they had fallen far from their peak and with the next game coming up they were not looking forward to how they’d do. The only thing about the game they were looking forward to was the post game meal and any new gifts that Foodnado had in store for them. As they imagined then next big meal in their future, an occasional “murr~” did slip through their lips from time to time, a sound that made Alex smile while zipping up another thick sweatshirt overtop the ones he already had on.
The next game they played went from bad to worse. From the start, The Storms were barely able to keep up with the pace of the opposing team as they ran the ball to the hoop while they clambered behind them. By the second half of the game, they were barely able to waddle let alone muster the strength to play. The other team barely needed to try and spent some of the time running circles around The Storms teasingly and the other half widening the gap in the score. When the final buzzer rang, the game ended with The Storms amazingly getting enough points to at least reach double digits while the other team had more than triple their score. It was a humiliating defeat for Scott and the rest of the team that was barely able to stay on their feet by the end and their walk into the locker rooms felt like the longest trek they ever took in their lives.
“We were pitiful today,” sighed Scott. “We’re not the team we once were.”
“We’re fat… overweight… slow…” groaned Alan.
“Hungry,” added Keith rubbing his gut. “All that work builds up an appetite.”
“Speaking of work,” snickered Mark. “How’s the work coming on that triple chin of yours? A few more burgers and it should take shape nicely. Then you can focus on widening the hills between that valley you call a rear.”
“You are hardly one to talk about fat jokes,” mentioned Scott tugging at one of Mark’s love handles. “You’re just as fat as Keith is now. We all are.”
“No law that says a fatso can’t make a fat joke, is there,” stated Mark. “Besides a little laughter helps with a stinging defeat.”
“The one good thing,” commented Alan. “Is that at least we shouldn’t be ‘rewarded’ for winning the game. Cause if we keep getting stuff for playing well I’d rather keep losing and avoid falling even deeper into gluttony than we already have.” Despite saying this, it was far from how he really felt.
“Yeah,” agreed the others as they opened the doors to the locker room and were hit with the overwhelming odors of fast food and saw that their post game meal was already prepared for them along with thick parkas that were designed for the bitterest of arctic chills.
“It was a hard played game and looks like Foodnado has decided to give you all a banquet in celebration as well as these big coats. They have a few more changes they wanted to implement if that’s all okay with all of you.”
“Sure is,” they answered rushing in quickly to grab their jackets before gathering around the food to devour it, the negative feelings instantly gone as the desire to glut kicked in.
“Heheh,” chuckled Alex watching his team make pigs of themselves and further ruin their figures. “That’s it everyone. You played a hard game. Gotta eat and recharge and maybe pack on a few more pounds while you’re at it.”
“Omnomnomnomnom,” they binged barely listening to what their coach said. The team that played like a well-oiled machine was now more like an eating machine as burgers, fries, shakes, and newly added menu items like onion rings, deep-fried donuts, and large slices of cake were scarfed down savagely. The food had once more grown in size. A single burger looked big enough to be divided among a family of four for a meal and yet these dragons were eating them down like they were nothing and hastily scrambling to devour something else.
Alex walked around them as they ate and looked over their jackets seeing their new nicknames that Foodnado had provided them. Scott’s was now “Fat Storm” and Alan’s had become “Eating Machine.” Keith’s name went from “Brain Storm” to “Thunder Thighs” and Mark’s was “Tiny,” a nickname that almost made him laugh the new extra thick and creamy chocolate shake out his nose when he saw it.
After eating, the team spent some time basking in the even greater warmth of their parkas. Sweat ran down their faces like a waterfall on a mountain. Their faces glistened from their perspiration and drops of sweat dripped the tips of their noses. Sweat soaked through a few of their innermost layers and their shoes felt flooded with water up to their ankles. None of these Windragons had ever felt this incredibly hot and sweaty before and they like it a lot.
“You guys just enjoy yourselves,” Alex told them. “I’ll be right back. I just need to make a phone call.” None of his players answered him or even noticed. They were too distracted cuddling against their warmth.
The next day, everyone expected that after that defeat, that The Storms would have been very down and done whatever was needed to get themselves back in shape, even if it meant losing their sponsor in the process. But the next day they founds the team of eight in as high spirits as ever as they went through school sweating in more layers than ever. With how happy they were strutting around they were acting like they won the championship already. Everyone who saw them couldn’t be staring and wonder what they had to eat to put on another hundred pounds of blubber overnight.
“Are you guys okay?”
“We’re more than okay,” answered Scott. “We’re great!”
“I feel better than I’ve ever felt in my life,” stated Alan rubbing at his lard swollen face. “Aren’t I the picture of health?”
“You are definitely warm and snuggly,” murred Keith as he hugged him tight. “Mmm~ and so am I.”
“Either I’m insanely fat or you guys must be far away,” joked Mark looking at his much more lithe classmates. “Eh, I’m fat.”
“Don’t you think you guys might have a problem with that food you are eating?”
“A problem?” they asked. “Nah. We’re all perfectly fine. It’s just food We might not have been crazy about it at first, but we’ve actually grown to enjoy it, in moderation, of course.”
Then the wonderful aroma entered the school through the windows and truck’s horn blared. “Time for more eats!” called the driver.
“FOOD!” squealed The Storms with hoggish delight and ran outside with the force of a stampede. Everyone rushed out of their way to avoid getting trampled by the Windragons and then watched them hurry to the truck and bang on the back doors impatient to get to the food and cram that lard-filled goodness past their lips.
The door to the truck opened in the back and to the team’s surprise, the one who greeted them was none other than their coach, Alex. “Well, look what we got here. My fat little piggies are all ready and present for more food.”
“Coach?” asked Scott confused. “What are you doing here?”
“It seems the school board was not too thrilled with me,” he admitted with a guilty-looking smile on his face. “Seems I wasn’t really allowed to go out on my own to get a corporate sponsor and allow them to do… well, that to you guys. And it also seems that I may have been wrong about the school lacking the funds for the team so everything you’ve all done to keep playing basketball was for nothing unless you wanna count the eight tons of blubber put on between the eight of you. So, needless to say, I got the boot, but luckily Foodnado decided to hire me on since you eight are still under contract and still in need of a coach. So pretty much the same as before, but I get to take extra care and make sure you all eat well.”
“You say something?” belched Alan already stuffing food into his face along with the others.
“Nothing important,” chuckled Alex. “Just keep on eating and become the best bunch of lard dragons you can be.”
One massive meal that cleaned out the entire truck of food and likely to add even more to the already considerable girth of the team later, Alex once more filled them in on their situation. This time, they listened now that their bellies were sated.
“So, are we still going to be playing basketball?” Scott asked. “We lost terribly last game and with how we are now, we’re likely to do even worse. I doubt we can even score as we are.”
“It isn’t likely that we will be playing any more basketball now,” Alex told them. “You guys aren’t the right shape for that, but it just so happens that Foodnado has been in the market to create a team to compete with other fatty food companies for a new sporting event specifically for plus-sized athletes like yourselves.”
“You mean ones that make sumos look just chubby by comparison,” joked Mark.
“Depends what kind of sumos you are referring to,” replied Alex. “Sumo is one of the events, along with the iron gut eat off, sweatshirt layering competition, and soda can belch off. And those are just a few of the events that are planned. So, tell me, are you guys interested in competing in something far more enjoyable than dribbling a ball back and forth around the court?”
The team huddled close as their obesity would allow them as they quickly discussed Alex’s offer. It barely took more than a minute before they turned back to Alex to give him their answer.
“Before we tell you,” Mark spoke up. “We’d like a couple honest answers from you. First off, was all this part of your plan from the beginning? To turn us from strong athletes in our prime into fast food-addicted balls of blubber constantly covered in layers of hot, sweaty clothes? Was all this what you planned for us all along?”
“Yes,” Alex told them.
“Good enough for me,” said Scott as they climbed on the truck causing the frame to creak and get weighed down.
“Thanks for being honest with us,” Keith said as he tried to sit down as best he could and leave space for the others to sit down, their rumps forced to smoosh against one another’s in order to make sure all eight of them were able to be in the van at once.
“Let’s go and compete,” stated Alan. “And grab some more food on the way. I doubt that snack will keep us full for very long.”
“It’ll be a challenge to get you guys full the way you are now, but you’ll all have all the fast food you could ever want after today.”
“Then get that skinny rump of yours in the driver’s seat and get us outta here!” demanded Scott.
“Heheh, looks like I’d better start eating more myself,” chuckled Alex as he squirmed his way to the front of the truck to the driver’s seat. It would have been easier to reach by walking around outside the truck, but he didn’t want to miss out on rubbing and groping at his obese team’s flab as he made his way between their massive guts. “It wouldn’t do to make you guys so big compared to your coach now, would it?”
“One more thing,” said Mark. “All this definitely proves that you have a thing for fatties and hot, heavy layers to make you sweat. I mean isn’t it pretty obvious at this point?”
“It is and I am,” Alex stated proudly as he got the car into gear. “There’s a great, big, fat world out there and I’m sure you’re all dying to see it while it is just as eager to meet all of you.”
Category All / Fat Furs
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 100 x 100px
File Size 1.3 kB
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