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More from Vorax~
After drinking a V8 from me (which I did nothing to of course), Maz goes out on a run and feels that instead of losing weight, he is packing it on! and Fast!
A fun trade with from
Choice_D Be sure to give his stories a look!
---
Mazaku © & Vorax ©:
Denya © & Story:
---
“...Eight...nine...ten.”
Mazaku huffed and slowly pulled himself up, rubbing the back of his right knee. Even through his thick sweatpants, he could feel the tendons sticking slightly out of his leg, a smirk spreading across his murky-green muzzle. The pre-workout was just as important as the main workout after all, if not more so. The last thing the dragon needed was a pulled muscle in the middle of a run. Shaking his stretched leg carefully, Mazaku slowly lowered himself onto his other knee, holding on to the edge of the couch. “One...two...three…” He closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing and counting, as well as the strain in his leg.
He was focused; so focused, in fact, that he barely heard the piggish grunt from the couch. “Do you have to do that here? I’m trying to watch T.V.”
Mazaku waited until after finishing his count before pulling himself back up to respond. “Sorry, Vorax. It’s a lot more roomier here than in my room.” He leaned over the armrest, grinning to his brother. “Just give me a few more minutes, then I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Fair,” Vorax snorted before slumping back in the creaking couch, shoving a spoon full of cookie-butter into his maw. The two dragons may have been brothers, yet that didn’t stop them from living two completely different life styles. While they looked similar, with Vorax having slightly paler scales than his younger brother, their physiques were anything but. Mazaku worked hard to keep his figure in check, exercising daily and counting calories. It was exhausting work, to be sure, but that was the price to pay for thin arms and toned legs. He wasn’t completely successful, unfortunately, for still had a slight paunch that stood out a couple inches further than it should. Out of embarrassment, the dragon made sure to wear loose clothing to completely hide his mini beer belly, even if said belly was like a pebble compared to Vorax’s boulder of a gut!
While Mazaku was running marathons, Vorax was sitting through them, with his fat ass hardly ever leaving the couch. The only cardio he made was from the kitchen and back with an armful of snacks for every trip. Heck, sometimes it was easier for him to just bully Mazaku to fetch him a bag of chips or three; the thinner dragon was already the one cleaning up after him anyway. Even now, as he finished his container of cookie-butter, Vorax casually flicked it off his stained tank-top and grabbed another from the mountain of munchies beside him, opening it up and spooning mouthful after mouthful into his maw like it was ice cream.
Not content with being the only fatty, Vorax pointed his spread-smeared spoon towards Mazaku. “Don’t you ever get tired of going out for all those runs, Maz? I get sore just from watching you.”
The thinner dragon shrugged, hugging one knee to his chest. “Well, someone needs to bring home the food, right?”
“Not really. You know most places deliver nowadays, don’t you? Besides,” Vorax smirked, slowly shifting his bulk to one end of the three-seater couch, patting the other half that wasn’t occupied by his bulk. “There’s always room for two here.”
It was a tempting offer, Mazaku had to admit. It was starting to heat up outdoors, after all, and even if his brother radiated more heat than a furnace, relaxing on the couch next to the flabby drake did sound better than breaking a sweat outside. However, he knew that one day of relaxing was a slippery slope to the life of a glutton like Vorax, and so the smaller drake shook his head. “I’ll watch some TV with yah when I get back, alright? I gotta keep this running streak going if I’m gonna have any chance of trimming this gut,” he said, patting his middle.
Vorax rolled his eyes. “You act like having a gut is a bad thing,” he snorted, having finished the last of his cookie-butter, lazily leaving it on top of his shelf-like gut. “Before you go, I got something for ya.” Digging in the mountain of snacks next to him, the obese dragon soon pulled out a small bottle before haphazardly tossing it at his comparatively skinny sibling. Mazaku had to stumble forward just to catch the container, his glasses almost falling off his muzzle. Straightening himself, the dragon frowned as he looked over the bottle.
“A V8?” He muttered, reading over the label again and again. There was no way Vorax would ever allow buy something like this on his own volition, especially not for someone else. Mazaku could recall all the times his flabby brother had replacing his gatorades with sodas, or dumping extra helpings of pasta onto his plate when he wasn’t looking, anything to trick him into eating a few extra calories, and consequently a few extra pounds. Naturally, he was a little skeptical as he analyzed the bottle, noting how even the plastic seal had been broken. “What’s in it?”
Vorax sighed. “Really? You don’t know what a V8 is?” Before Mazaku could respond, the tubby dragon quickly cut him off. “They’re these weird-tasting drinks that have a ton of vitamins and other important junk to give you energy and nutrition and all that. I picked it up for you cuz I thought you’d want it to help you run better and lose weight. After all, you don’t wanna end up like big bro, do you?” With a smirk, Vorax lifted his tank top higher, which was already riding the upper curve of his gut, and began shaking and jiggling the flabby mass before him, hearing it slosh and blorp about. The cookie-butter container, along with various other crumbs from previous snacks, rained down from his quivering figure, further emphasizing the point that Vorax was, indeed, an incredibly fat slob.
One that Mazaku envied greatly.
“Alright, alright, I get it!” Mazaku turned around to hide his profusely reddening face. God, why did Vorax had to go and make him blush like that? He’s supposed to be the fit and active one in this family; he didn’t have time to be fantasizing about being as large and soft as his brother. Even when he wasn’t looking, Mazaku could still hear that gut slosh about, easily picturing the sheer size of the cream-colored belly in his head. In an effort to save himself from this incredibly awkward situation, the drake unpopped the cap and quickly guzzled down its contents. So quickly, in fact, he didn’t even taste the vegetable soup until after the last of it had vanished down his throat. “There. I drank it! Happy?” He muttered ashamedly, before quickly rushing himself out the door.
Vorax snickered and crossed his arms over his doughy chest, a dimpled smile forming on his lips. “Indeed I am, little brother. Indeed I am.”
Today’s run wouldn’t be any different from his other runs: a simple jog through the town park, once around the lake, and then back home. Mazaku sighed, taking the moment to finally slip on a pair of neon red sweatbands on his wrist and forehead. It was honestly starting to get a little mundane how simple and easy of a trek it was, so much so that the dragon decided to start jogging right from his front door instead. It would add an extra half mile to his overall distance, which was always important for the fitness-oriented drake, yet in reality he simply wanted to distance himself from that image of Vorax jostling his stomach around. Seriously, he needed to be warned before seeing something like that! It was all too easy for Mazaku to accidentally pretend to be that massive himself, to be the one lazing around on the couch all day, using his gut as a shelf while picking out food from his innumerable rolls.
The run had barely started and Mazaku was already blushing hard.
“Stop it! Stop thinking about that!” He muttered to himself in between breaths. Mazaku willed himself to focus on anything else, such as the sound his feet made as he ran across the concrete, the breeze blowing through his lengthy black hair, or, probably more importantly, keeping a steady pace. He was still a little too riled up, running a little faster than he intended, much to his disdain. If he wanted to get the most out of this morning’s exercise, he would have to pace himself better and not tire out halfway through. Gradually, he started to slow down as the entrance to the park was starting to come into view. With all his thoughts on setting a proper pace for himself (as well as Vorax’s massive gut), Mazaku was quick to forget about the V8 he drank earlier.
So much so, that when he noticed his sweatshirt was starting to ride up along his belly, he simply attributed it to his own bad habits.
“Stupid Vorax, constantly giving me extra portions,” Mazaku thought angrily to himself, shivering as a breeze of cool air blew against his exposed lower gut. As much as he blamed his brother for constantly scooping extra helpings onto his plate during dinner, the dragon knew he was also responsible for actually eating much of the food handed to him. As such, his belly was serving as a painful reminder of his lack of self control as it wobbled, jiggled, and —much to Mazaku’s embarrassment— bounced before him.
Today was supposed to be a wonderful day, too. The temperature would hover around the low 70’s (21°C, if you prefer) all day, at least according to the news report Mazaku listened to, before he started preparing for his run. Yet, even as he ran along the edge of the park lake where it was always a few degrees cooler, the dragon found himself breaking into a sweat! Mazaku’s forehead warmed as he worked through his jog, his pace slowing down ever so slightly to compensate. He felt cool when he stepped outside earlier; was this a sudden heatwave? The drake groaned when he felt his clothes start to stick to his body.
And boy did they stick! Sure, Mazaku had expected his shirt to ride over his soft belly somewhat, but he did not expect his sweatpants to start hugging around his hips and rear so tightly. And they were so loose to begin with too; perhaps he had washed them improperly? The dragon frowned, furrowing his scaly green head. He was overthinking things, a common pastime for him lately. He just needed to focus on the run and worry about his shrinking wardrobe later, that’s all. Nodding to himself, the drake quickly adjusted his glasses mid stride and continued forward, ignoring his apprehensive thoughts.
Later on, he would regret that decision.
For anyone else watching, or if anyone was paying attention, they would have notice the dragon swelling out in real time, gaining nearly a dozen pounds a second. Every step the dragon made sent a little extra jiggle along his thighs and rear, or a little extra bounce along his hanging paunch. It was slow but steady, making it difficult for anyone watching to tell if the sweaty green dragon really was putting on weight in real time, of if he had always been that pudgy. After all, they were watching him from a distance, where size was more difficult to discern than shape.
Of course, Maz’s shape was also going pear shaped. What was merely a doughy pot belly was starting to turn into an apron of fat that hung low and bounced against his chunky thighs. Speaking of which, said thighs pressed and squeezed against each other, gradually transforming his run into a waddle. That waddle only grew more and more restricted as time went on, the drake struggling to move his sweaty legs within his restrictive sweatpants. Sweatpants that used to be far more loose than before.
“D-damn...must have...shrunk in the wash,” Maz muttered to himself, panting heavily. This run was not going well today. By now, he should have just started to break into a sweat, not be drenched in it! The dragon was dying! His tongue hanging out of his muzzle as he struggled to pump those ham-like arms of his, willing himself to continue the run somehow. He wasn’t tired. He couldn’t be tired. He had to see this through!
But he couldn’t keep this up!
Right as he rounded the halfway point, Maz slowly brought himself to a deadstop and hunched over, his claws clamping onto his knees. Sweat was dripping from him like a leaky faucet, particularly from his snout, horns, and tail. He was burning up, his cheeks and forehead red hot! Why was he feeling so incredibly hot, so impossible tired, and so impeccably famished?!
The answer was right before him, in the form of a belly that rested on the ground before him.
Maz cursed. How had he not noticed this before?! He was massive, enormous, an actual blimp of scales and lard! He pushed his arms into his sagging tum, whimpering as he felt them sink almost halfway to his elbows! It was at this point that Maz realized not only how his shirt was little more than a training bra for his double D moobs, but that he couldn’t even look down properly thanks to his thick tire of neck flab as well as his cascading chins! No wonder running was so hard, he was even fatter than Vorax!
Maz swore again, much louder this time, only to immediately regret that decision. As if he wasn’t garnering enough stares and glares already, his noisy outbursts quickly alerted everyone of the obese, sweaty puddle attempting a light jog. The dragon’s softball-sized cheeks blushed profusely as a small crowd started to gather, murmurs rippling amongst them.
“-just so disgusting! I can smell him from me.”
“Don’t stare at him, he’s at least trying to lose weight, that poor thing.”
“You’d think he’d at least wear clothes his size. Nobody wants to see all...that hanging out.”
“You think we can get him to keep running if we dangled a donut on a string in front of his mouth?”
Maz felt like he was about to explode and implode at the same time, his heart pounding in his chest, not from exhaustion, but from the fight-or-flight instinct all dragons were born with. He was surrounded, trapped on all sides by a wall of people chattering, laughing, pointing. He even heard the distinct sounds of iPhone cameras going off, and something told him he had just replaced the lake fountain as this park’s monument. The dragon shuffled forward, trying to ignore all the glares and stares, struggling not just to haul his sagging gut off the ground, but to get his massive thighs moving. There was so much resistance, yet he shuffled forward, taking several tiny steps, until suddenly.
RIIIIIIIIIP!
The audience exploded into laughter, the sound of it assaulting Maz’s ears like a tidal wave. The dragon couldn’t hear where that rip emanated from, but he had a pretty good guess as he felt a cool breeze blew through his exposed rear. More laughter, more camera pictures taken, more snide comments about his impossibly fat weight. Heck, at one point Maz felt someone sneak a cheeky pinch at one of his enormous ass cheeks, causing him to yelp and bounce! They had no idea he had been running every morning just to avoid this very situation. This was the reason why he didn’t want to be fat!
The steam on his glasses made it feel like he was walking through a cloud, but eventually Maz pushed through the crowd towards the street. There was no way he could continue this run, not with all this attention. He raised a paw, wincing as, through his foggy glasses, it looked like his hand was now a baseball mit. Hopefully, he could snag a cab that could take him home, preferably a large one. Were there such things as SUV cabs?
Unfortunately, most cabs didn’t want to stop for an obese, sweaty dragon to stink up their ride. Maz certainly didn’t blame them; he was ready to pass out just from the scent of his own exposed armpit. Instead, he was the subject of further ridicule as drivers honked at the stationary lardball. Maz sighed. At least his stench was starting to drive off some of the furs from the park.
Right as his doughy arm was starting to cramp, Maz was relieved to find a cab finally slow down for him, even if the vehicle wasn’t too large. The driver, a thin wolf with blue markings, slowly exited his vehicle as he looked at the dragon with aprehension. “Erh...do you, uh, need any help, sir?”
Maz grimaced. “I should be fine, thank you.” With shaky fingers, Maz reached over his hanging belly and opened the back door, before frowning. He was notably wider than the door. Any normal fatty would have just waved the cab away and waddled over to the bus stop (if he could even fit on that) but Maz did not want to expose himself to more people. With a sigh, he dove forward, grunting as his chub quickly squished outwards in all directions.
“A-are you sure you don’t need-”
“I’m fine!” With renewed vigor, Maz shoved and pushed himself further into the car, pawing at the rolls of chub in his way. Bit by bit he managed to squeeze himself in, the car lurching with every shove he made, until he eventually filled out the entire back of the cab.. Seatbelts were an impossibility, but at least he was fully inside the car. At least, he thought so, until the wolf came from behind and shut the door, squishing the rest of him inside.
He was cramped, stuck inside this vehicle like soup in a soup can. Maz could barely see anything before him with his own belly rising up to block his vision. As uncomfortably packed as he was, the dragon couldn’t help but feel bad that he was pretty much coating the interior of this car with his own sweat. Hopefully the cab wolf had some deodorizing spray he could after all this.
The wolf made it back to his seat, and they were off down the road, even if the car took a while to accelerate. The lupine was silent throughout the trip, the windows rolled down to possibly try and alleviate the stench. Maz didn’t make any attempt at conversation either; what was he even supposed to say? “Oh, trust me, I was way thinner just an hour ago, I swear.”
His stomach grumbled. Loudly. Maz groaned yet again, too tired to even blush. Just how much longer was he going to keep humiliating himself with his body? The wolf already had to deal with his stench and sweat-stained flab, not to mention all that weight being put on the car’s suspension. And yet, at this point, what did it matter if Maz was a fatty? There was nothing he could do about it, so if he was going to be an enormous blob of dragon, he may as well enjoy the perks that came with it. “Hey, do you think we can pull through a McDonalds on the way?”
Vorax was right where he left him, his fat older brother never left his spot on the couch. The greyer dragon looked exactly the same as before, save for the enormous grin on his face as he regarded the doughy drake standing in the doorway. “Hey, look who’s finally back! Took you, what, three hours to finish your run? You’re starting to get slower!” He teased, sticking his tongue out.
“Shut up,” Maz grumbled. He stared at his older brother with as much malice as he could conjure, even if the effect was diminished somewhat by those adorably chubby cheeks. “You turned me into a blob, damnit, and in front of so many people too! I was made a laughing stock in front of half the town! I almost even broke a cab just from trying to get here!” He panted, that little rant alone enough to knock the wind out of him.
“Yeah, but you liked it, right?” Vorax retorted, his grin not leaving his face. “I mean, why else are you carrying a McDonald’s bag.”
“That’s...none of your concern,” the green dragon mumbled, tossing the empty paper bag aside.
“Course it is, you’re my itty bitty bro, and I care about you. And I know you looooove all this,” Vorax leaned back and patted his wobbly grey belly, letting it jiggle in full view. “It’s about time you finally stopped lying to yourself and started living like a true fatty.”
Maz silently fumed, not because Vorax had no shame in fattening up his younger brother to such a ridiculous degree, but because Vorax was right! He’d been dying to turn himself into a blob for years! He was envious of those thick curves, soft cheeks, and doughy midsection; it was just his fear of others looking down on him that made him stay fit all these years. But now, after experiencing the very same humiliation he had feared for all his life, he realized that it only got better from here.
“There’s still a spot on the couch for you if you wanna sit and watch TV, ‘little’ bro,” Vorax patted the empty spot next to him.
Maz couldn’t help but let that angry snarl slowly change into a grin as he shuffled over and plopped himself down, the couch creaking noisily beneath their combined weights. There was hardly enough room for the both of them, their love handles smooshing and pancaking outwards. It was very tight and warm, but sooooo comfortable. Despite eating McDonalds just a little while ago, Maz turned towards his big bro and smirked. “Can we order pizza tonight?”
A fun trade with from
Choice_D Be sure to give his stories a look!---
Mazaku © & Vorax ©:
Denya © & Story:
---
“...Eight...nine...ten.”
Mazaku huffed and slowly pulled himself up, rubbing the back of his right knee. Even through his thick sweatpants, he could feel the tendons sticking slightly out of his leg, a smirk spreading across his murky-green muzzle. The pre-workout was just as important as the main workout after all, if not more so. The last thing the dragon needed was a pulled muscle in the middle of a run. Shaking his stretched leg carefully, Mazaku slowly lowered himself onto his other knee, holding on to the edge of the couch. “One...two...three…” He closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing and counting, as well as the strain in his leg.
He was focused; so focused, in fact, that he barely heard the piggish grunt from the couch. “Do you have to do that here? I’m trying to watch T.V.”
Mazaku waited until after finishing his count before pulling himself back up to respond. “Sorry, Vorax. It’s a lot more roomier here than in my room.” He leaned over the armrest, grinning to his brother. “Just give me a few more minutes, then I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Fair,” Vorax snorted before slumping back in the creaking couch, shoving a spoon full of cookie-butter into his maw. The two dragons may have been brothers, yet that didn’t stop them from living two completely different life styles. While they looked similar, with Vorax having slightly paler scales than his younger brother, their physiques were anything but. Mazaku worked hard to keep his figure in check, exercising daily and counting calories. It was exhausting work, to be sure, but that was the price to pay for thin arms and toned legs. He wasn’t completely successful, unfortunately, for still had a slight paunch that stood out a couple inches further than it should. Out of embarrassment, the dragon made sure to wear loose clothing to completely hide his mini beer belly, even if said belly was like a pebble compared to Vorax’s boulder of a gut!
While Mazaku was running marathons, Vorax was sitting through them, with his fat ass hardly ever leaving the couch. The only cardio he made was from the kitchen and back with an armful of snacks for every trip. Heck, sometimes it was easier for him to just bully Mazaku to fetch him a bag of chips or three; the thinner dragon was already the one cleaning up after him anyway. Even now, as he finished his container of cookie-butter, Vorax casually flicked it off his stained tank-top and grabbed another from the mountain of munchies beside him, opening it up and spooning mouthful after mouthful into his maw like it was ice cream.
Not content with being the only fatty, Vorax pointed his spread-smeared spoon towards Mazaku. “Don’t you ever get tired of going out for all those runs, Maz? I get sore just from watching you.”
The thinner dragon shrugged, hugging one knee to his chest. “Well, someone needs to bring home the food, right?”
“Not really. You know most places deliver nowadays, don’t you? Besides,” Vorax smirked, slowly shifting his bulk to one end of the three-seater couch, patting the other half that wasn’t occupied by his bulk. “There’s always room for two here.”
It was a tempting offer, Mazaku had to admit. It was starting to heat up outdoors, after all, and even if his brother radiated more heat than a furnace, relaxing on the couch next to the flabby drake did sound better than breaking a sweat outside. However, he knew that one day of relaxing was a slippery slope to the life of a glutton like Vorax, and so the smaller drake shook his head. “I’ll watch some TV with yah when I get back, alright? I gotta keep this running streak going if I’m gonna have any chance of trimming this gut,” he said, patting his middle.
Vorax rolled his eyes. “You act like having a gut is a bad thing,” he snorted, having finished the last of his cookie-butter, lazily leaving it on top of his shelf-like gut. “Before you go, I got something for ya.” Digging in the mountain of snacks next to him, the obese dragon soon pulled out a small bottle before haphazardly tossing it at his comparatively skinny sibling. Mazaku had to stumble forward just to catch the container, his glasses almost falling off his muzzle. Straightening himself, the dragon frowned as he looked over the bottle.
“A V8?” He muttered, reading over the label again and again. There was no way Vorax would ever allow buy something like this on his own volition, especially not for someone else. Mazaku could recall all the times his flabby brother had replacing his gatorades with sodas, or dumping extra helpings of pasta onto his plate when he wasn’t looking, anything to trick him into eating a few extra calories, and consequently a few extra pounds. Naturally, he was a little skeptical as he analyzed the bottle, noting how even the plastic seal had been broken. “What’s in it?”
Vorax sighed. “Really? You don’t know what a V8 is?” Before Mazaku could respond, the tubby dragon quickly cut him off. “They’re these weird-tasting drinks that have a ton of vitamins and other important junk to give you energy and nutrition and all that. I picked it up for you cuz I thought you’d want it to help you run better and lose weight. After all, you don’t wanna end up like big bro, do you?” With a smirk, Vorax lifted his tank top higher, which was already riding the upper curve of his gut, and began shaking and jiggling the flabby mass before him, hearing it slosh and blorp about. The cookie-butter container, along with various other crumbs from previous snacks, rained down from his quivering figure, further emphasizing the point that Vorax was, indeed, an incredibly fat slob.
One that Mazaku envied greatly.
“Alright, alright, I get it!” Mazaku turned around to hide his profusely reddening face. God, why did Vorax had to go and make him blush like that? He’s supposed to be the fit and active one in this family; he didn’t have time to be fantasizing about being as large and soft as his brother. Even when he wasn’t looking, Mazaku could still hear that gut slosh about, easily picturing the sheer size of the cream-colored belly in his head. In an effort to save himself from this incredibly awkward situation, the drake unpopped the cap and quickly guzzled down its contents. So quickly, in fact, he didn’t even taste the vegetable soup until after the last of it had vanished down his throat. “There. I drank it! Happy?” He muttered ashamedly, before quickly rushing himself out the door.
Vorax snickered and crossed his arms over his doughy chest, a dimpled smile forming on his lips. “Indeed I am, little brother. Indeed I am.”
Today’s run wouldn’t be any different from his other runs: a simple jog through the town park, once around the lake, and then back home. Mazaku sighed, taking the moment to finally slip on a pair of neon red sweatbands on his wrist and forehead. It was honestly starting to get a little mundane how simple and easy of a trek it was, so much so that the dragon decided to start jogging right from his front door instead. It would add an extra half mile to his overall distance, which was always important for the fitness-oriented drake, yet in reality he simply wanted to distance himself from that image of Vorax jostling his stomach around. Seriously, he needed to be warned before seeing something like that! It was all too easy for Mazaku to accidentally pretend to be that massive himself, to be the one lazing around on the couch all day, using his gut as a shelf while picking out food from his innumerable rolls.
The run had barely started and Mazaku was already blushing hard.
“Stop it! Stop thinking about that!” He muttered to himself in between breaths. Mazaku willed himself to focus on anything else, such as the sound his feet made as he ran across the concrete, the breeze blowing through his lengthy black hair, or, probably more importantly, keeping a steady pace. He was still a little too riled up, running a little faster than he intended, much to his disdain. If he wanted to get the most out of this morning’s exercise, he would have to pace himself better and not tire out halfway through. Gradually, he started to slow down as the entrance to the park was starting to come into view. With all his thoughts on setting a proper pace for himself (as well as Vorax’s massive gut), Mazaku was quick to forget about the V8 he drank earlier.
So much so, that when he noticed his sweatshirt was starting to ride up along his belly, he simply attributed it to his own bad habits.
“Stupid Vorax, constantly giving me extra portions,” Mazaku thought angrily to himself, shivering as a breeze of cool air blew against his exposed lower gut. As much as he blamed his brother for constantly scooping extra helpings onto his plate during dinner, the dragon knew he was also responsible for actually eating much of the food handed to him. As such, his belly was serving as a painful reminder of his lack of self control as it wobbled, jiggled, and —much to Mazaku’s embarrassment— bounced before him.
Today was supposed to be a wonderful day, too. The temperature would hover around the low 70’s (21°C, if you prefer) all day, at least according to the news report Mazaku listened to, before he started preparing for his run. Yet, even as he ran along the edge of the park lake where it was always a few degrees cooler, the dragon found himself breaking into a sweat! Mazaku’s forehead warmed as he worked through his jog, his pace slowing down ever so slightly to compensate. He felt cool when he stepped outside earlier; was this a sudden heatwave? The drake groaned when he felt his clothes start to stick to his body.
And boy did they stick! Sure, Mazaku had expected his shirt to ride over his soft belly somewhat, but he did not expect his sweatpants to start hugging around his hips and rear so tightly. And they were so loose to begin with too; perhaps he had washed them improperly? The dragon frowned, furrowing his scaly green head. He was overthinking things, a common pastime for him lately. He just needed to focus on the run and worry about his shrinking wardrobe later, that’s all. Nodding to himself, the drake quickly adjusted his glasses mid stride and continued forward, ignoring his apprehensive thoughts.
Later on, he would regret that decision.
For anyone else watching, or if anyone was paying attention, they would have notice the dragon swelling out in real time, gaining nearly a dozen pounds a second. Every step the dragon made sent a little extra jiggle along his thighs and rear, or a little extra bounce along his hanging paunch. It was slow but steady, making it difficult for anyone watching to tell if the sweaty green dragon really was putting on weight in real time, of if he had always been that pudgy. After all, they were watching him from a distance, where size was more difficult to discern than shape.
Of course, Maz’s shape was also going pear shaped. What was merely a doughy pot belly was starting to turn into an apron of fat that hung low and bounced against his chunky thighs. Speaking of which, said thighs pressed and squeezed against each other, gradually transforming his run into a waddle. That waddle only grew more and more restricted as time went on, the drake struggling to move his sweaty legs within his restrictive sweatpants. Sweatpants that used to be far more loose than before.
“D-damn...must have...shrunk in the wash,” Maz muttered to himself, panting heavily. This run was not going well today. By now, he should have just started to break into a sweat, not be drenched in it! The dragon was dying! His tongue hanging out of his muzzle as he struggled to pump those ham-like arms of his, willing himself to continue the run somehow. He wasn’t tired. He couldn’t be tired. He had to see this through!
But he couldn’t keep this up!
Right as he rounded the halfway point, Maz slowly brought himself to a deadstop and hunched over, his claws clamping onto his knees. Sweat was dripping from him like a leaky faucet, particularly from his snout, horns, and tail. He was burning up, his cheeks and forehead red hot! Why was he feeling so incredibly hot, so impossible tired, and so impeccably famished?!
The answer was right before him, in the form of a belly that rested on the ground before him.
Maz cursed. How had he not noticed this before?! He was massive, enormous, an actual blimp of scales and lard! He pushed his arms into his sagging tum, whimpering as he felt them sink almost halfway to his elbows! It was at this point that Maz realized not only how his shirt was little more than a training bra for his double D moobs, but that he couldn’t even look down properly thanks to his thick tire of neck flab as well as his cascading chins! No wonder running was so hard, he was even fatter than Vorax!
Maz swore again, much louder this time, only to immediately regret that decision. As if he wasn’t garnering enough stares and glares already, his noisy outbursts quickly alerted everyone of the obese, sweaty puddle attempting a light jog. The dragon’s softball-sized cheeks blushed profusely as a small crowd started to gather, murmurs rippling amongst them.
“-just so disgusting! I can smell him from me.”
“Don’t stare at him, he’s at least trying to lose weight, that poor thing.”
“You’d think he’d at least wear clothes his size. Nobody wants to see all...that hanging out.”
“You think we can get him to keep running if we dangled a donut on a string in front of his mouth?”
Maz felt like he was about to explode and implode at the same time, his heart pounding in his chest, not from exhaustion, but from the fight-or-flight instinct all dragons were born with. He was surrounded, trapped on all sides by a wall of people chattering, laughing, pointing. He even heard the distinct sounds of iPhone cameras going off, and something told him he had just replaced the lake fountain as this park’s monument. The dragon shuffled forward, trying to ignore all the glares and stares, struggling not just to haul his sagging gut off the ground, but to get his massive thighs moving. There was so much resistance, yet he shuffled forward, taking several tiny steps, until suddenly.
RIIIIIIIIIP!
The audience exploded into laughter, the sound of it assaulting Maz’s ears like a tidal wave. The dragon couldn’t hear where that rip emanated from, but he had a pretty good guess as he felt a cool breeze blew through his exposed rear. More laughter, more camera pictures taken, more snide comments about his impossibly fat weight. Heck, at one point Maz felt someone sneak a cheeky pinch at one of his enormous ass cheeks, causing him to yelp and bounce! They had no idea he had been running every morning just to avoid this very situation. This was the reason why he didn’t want to be fat!
The steam on his glasses made it feel like he was walking through a cloud, but eventually Maz pushed through the crowd towards the street. There was no way he could continue this run, not with all this attention. He raised a paw, wincing as, through his foggy glasses, it looked like his hand was now a baseball mit. Hopefully, he could snag a cab that could take him home, preferably a large one. Were there such things as SUV cabs?
Unfortunately, most cabs didn’t want to stop for an obese, sweaty dragon to stink up their ride. Maz certainly didn’t blame them; he was ready to pass out just from the scent of his own exposed armpit. Instead, he was the subject of further ridicule as drivers honked at the stationary lardball. Maz sighed. At least his stench was starting to drive off some of the furs from the park.
Right as his doughy arm was starting to cramp, Maz was relieved to find a cab finally slow down for him, even if the vehicle wasn’t too large. The driver, a thin wolf with blue markings, slowly exited his vehicle as he looked at the dragon with aprehension. “Erh...do you, uh, need any help, sir?”
Maz grimaced. “I should be fine, thank you.” With shaky fingers, Maz reached over his hanging belly and opened the back door, before frowning. He was notably wider than the door. Any normal fatty would have just waved the cab away and waddled over to the bus stop (if he could even fit on that) but Maz did not want to expose himself to more people. With a sigh, he dove forward, grunting as his chub quickly squished outwards in all directions.
“A-are you sure you don’t need-”
“I’m fine!” With renewed vigor, Maz shoved and pushed himself further into the car, pawing at the rolls of chub in his way. Bit by bit he managed to squeeze himself in, the car lurching with every shove he made, until he eventually filled out the entire back of the cab.. Seatbelts were an impossibility, but at least he was fully inside the car. At least, he thought so, until the wolf came from behind and shut the door, squishing the rest of him inside.
He was cramped, stuck inside this vehicle like soup in a soup can. Maz could barely see anything before him with his own belly rising up to block his vision. As uncomfortably packed as he was, the dragon couldn’t help but feel bad that he was pretty much coating the interior of this car with his own sweat. Hopefully the cab wolf had some deodorizing spray he could after all this.
The wolf made it back to his seat, and they were off down the road, even if the car took a while to accelerate. The lupine was silent throughout the trip, the windows rolled down to possibly try and alleviate the stench. Maz didn’t make any attempt at conversation either; what was he even supposed to say? “Oh, trust me, I was way thinner just an hour ago, I swear.”
His stomach grumbled. Loudly. Maz groaned yet again, too tired to even blush. Just how much longer was he going to keep humiliating himself with his body? The wolf already had to deal with his stench and sweat-stained flab, not to mention all that weight being put on the car’s suspension. And yet, at this point, what did it matter if Maz was a fatty? There was nothing he could do about it, so if he was going to be an enormous blob of dragon, he may as well enjoy the perks that came with it. “Hey, do you think we can pull through a McDonalds on the way?”
Vorax was right where he left him, his fat older brother never left his spot on the couch. The greyer dragon looked exactly the same as before, save for the enormous grin on his face as he regarded the doughy drake standing in the doorway. “Hey, look who’s finally back! Took you, what, three hours to finish your run? You’re starting to get slower!” He teased, sticking his tongue out.
“Shut up,” Maz grumbled. He stared at his older brother with as much malice as he could conjure, even if the effect was diminished somewhat by those adorably chubby cheeks. “You turned me into a blob, damnit, and in front of so many people too! I was made a laughing stock in front of half the town! I almost even broke a cab just from trying to get here!” He panted, that little rant alone enough to knock the wind out of him.
“Yeah, but you liked it, right?” Vorax retorted, his grin not leaving his face. “I mean, why else are you carrying a McDonald’s bag.”
“That’s...none of your concern,” the green dragon mumbled, tossing the empty paper bag aside.
“Course it is, you’re my itty bitty bro, and I care about you. And I know you looooove all this,” Vorax leaned back and patted his wobbly grey belly, letting it jiggle in full view. “It’s about time you finally stopped lying to yourself and started living like a true fatty.”
Maz silently fumed, not because Vorax had no shame in fattening up his younger brother to such a ridiculous degree, but because Vorax was right! He’d been dying to turn himself into a blob for years! He was envious of those thick curves, soft cheeks, and doughy midsection; it was just his fear of others looking down on him that made him stay fit all these years. But now, after experiencing the very same humiliation he had feared for all his life, he realized that it only got better from here.
“There’s still a spot on the couch for you if you wanna sit and watch TV, ‘little’ bro,” Vorax patted the empty spot next to him.
Maz couldn’t help but let that angry snarl slowly change into a grin as he shuffled over and plopped himself down, the couch creaking noisily beneath their combined weights. There was hardly enough room for the both of them, their love handles smooshing and pancaking outwards. It was very tight and warm, but sooooo comfortable. Despite eating McDonalds just a little while ago, Maz turned towards his big bro and smirked. “Can we order pizza tonight?”
Category Story / Fat Furs
Species Western Dragon
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 102.4 kB
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