Now -that- is a poolside bod! And soon it'll be a pool-filling bod, as long as certain cats don't intervene!

Story by  RenardDeFleureax
Art by Yours Truly

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“So, uh…” Conner cleared his throat, looking over his exceedingly wide, round friend in front of him, the lolf’s tail swaying nearly as much as his engorged, wobbly thighs and round posterior, spilling out of his swim trunks. “You… feeling okay, Ren?”

“Yeah, ‘coursh!” the lolf slurred, chomping down on a strawberry ice cream pop. Conner was trying to think if he had seen the hybrid without the icy treat in his mouth since he came to the pool; he was even lugging a box of the stuff under his arm, and he wasn’t sharing.

“Just, you look…” Renard turned around, slurping down another pop. Conner blinked, the lolf’s tan, bulbous belly the size of a small car bumping against his own. He was fairly certain his obese friend was now bigger than he was, which was something of an achievement, given Conner’s considerable girth. The formerly buff, musclebound hybrid was now almost entirely spherical. “...You did something new with your hair. Did you dye it?”

“Huh?” Renard blinked, his flabby arm brushing against his swollen cheek as he swept back his hair. There was a strange tint to it, almost pink. The tuft on his tail was the same color, as well. “Nnno? It’s the same as always.” He smirked, dimpling his cheek as he nudged Conner in the gut. “Maybe I can finally talk you into doing something better than that cowlick.”

“Haha, yeah, sure,” Conner said half-heartedly, his eyes still transfixed on just how much of a belly Renard had accumulated. “Your, uh, gig with that Fudgepackers still going good? I heard they’re in some legal trouble, with the other mascots.”

“Yeah, yeah, they’re great,” Renard waved the comment off, adjusting his own sunglasses. “We’ll talk about it over lunch, yeah? I’m starving.” He patted his gut for emphasis, an action not unlike beating a timpani drum made out of jell-o.

Unbeknownst to either of them, however, another figure just beyond the hedge ringing the pool was having trouble taking his eyes off the rotund Renard. “Oh dear, oh dear, Mr. De Fleureaux… what have you done to yourself?”