Running from Corpulence: CHAPTER II
It's been a month now since Maz's injury and Vorax has been doing his best to make sure his leg is all healed up for the next coming months. According to Vorax, plenty of sleep and rich foods will do the trick. That means pasta tonight!
CHAPTER I <--- PROLOGUE ---> CHAPTER III
---
Story:
Mazaku ©, Vorax © & Artwork:
Cameo:
Toothy ©:
---
July (MONTH 2):
“…And dinner is served!” Vorax proclaimed proudly as he plopped a large bowl of spaghetti down on the table with a loud thud before stepping back and taking a dramatic half bow. “Oh wait!” the dragon exclaimed, shooting upright, “I forgot the meatballs!” Maz couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched his older brother turn around and rush back to the kitchen. As Vorax pumped his arms, brushing them passed the love handles jutting out from his sides, his rear bounced from side to side, bumping into the open doorway to the kitchen as he waddled away. The impact ratted the wall and caused the picture frame on the wall to tilt; photo of the two brothers at the beach was often askew.
Maz settled into his seat along the edge of the dining room table and stared at the looming bowl of pasta before him; it was a familiar sight. Usually, even as a runner, Maz tried to avoid eating the carbs-incarnate that was spaghetti and meatballs, preferring to have a more rounded meal that focused more on protein and fibrous vegetables. With his leg still in a cast, however, Maz couldn’t stand long enough to cook his own food. He had once tried making a salmon and capers meal for himself while using his crutches, but after just a few minutes, his armpits burned and the awkward positioning and maneuvering had ended with a shattered baking tray and a hunk of burnt fish. Since then, Vorax had insisted on cooking for Maz, or a combination of cooking and picking up take out for the younger, injured dragon.
During those brown bag meals, Maz would ask Vorax to get him something healthy, like the one salad that all burger joints seemed to offer, or getting the whole grain dough and veggie pizza from Big Za’s downtown. Typically, his older brother came through with Maz’s intended sustenance, but every once and a while the tubby dragon would either forget or mix up his order, leaving Maz with nothing to eat but the classic cheeseburger from Burger Temple or the double cheese and beef burrito from Nuestra Cocina down the block.
The first few times that it had happened, Maz had been worried. He knew how many calories were in the burger and fries Vorax had brought him for dinner and he worried about just how many of those calories were going to be worming their way onto his frame. Even the greasy taste of the burger was kind of disappointing, his palate used to the crisper, healthier taste of fruit salads and brown rice. That worry had still been present the second time the mix up had happened, and third, and the forth.
Occasionally, Maz would feel a little annoyed with his older brother, even if he never showed it, but then he’d remember that his brother was only trying to help. He had been helping out a lot over the last month since his leg had been broken and if a few meals here and there were getting messed up, it was fine. It was the thought that counted, even if the mixed up orders appeared to be happening more and more frequently lately.
Even yesterday, when Vorax had brought home fried sweet and sour chicken instead of his vegetable stir fry from Sunrise Moon, Maz figured he should have been upset with Vorax, but in a way, he kind of liked the surprise; it added a little spice to his relatively mundane life as of late. He did little more than wake up and sit on the couch all day, every day. Thus, wondering if his veggie wrap was instead going to show up as a thick Italian sub was becoming a fun game for Maz; a distraction. Plus, he was starting to like the taste of that grease again. A few burgers and tacos here and there weren’t going to hurt him. They hadn’t up to this point, so as long as he indulged in them in moderation, everything should be fine; in the back of his mind, he just hoped it wasn’t a false sense of security. It was that security that actually made Maz a little excited for this spaghetti meal, knowing that his brother made the best tomato sauce and meatballs he had ever tasted, even if a warning bell in the back of his mind was telling him this was the third time in a week and a half he was eating pasta; calories, calories, calories…
Maz reached for the pasta and began to scoop some into the large bowl that Vorax had set for him. The pasta was lightly oiled with a separate bowl filled with steaming, tomato sauce that Vorax had been slow cooking all afternoon; the house smelled like a miniature Little Italy. Maz tried to gauge just the right amount of pasta to match the growling hunger in his belly, but the wideset bowl and the large serving spoon were making those approximations difficult. After just two scoops, Vorax reappeared with a large bowl of meatballs and plopped it down on the table next to Maz. Vorax took one look into Maz’s bowl and grimaced.
“Not nearly enough…” Vorax muttered.
“What was that?” Maz said.
“Oh uh,” Vorax said, thinking on his feet. “I was just thinking that I might have dropped my phone over there because I can’t find it.” Vorax padded his cargo shorts and though he felt the outline of his phone wedged up against his thigh, he pretended like he didn’t. “But I’ll just grab in later.”
“Oh no, I can grab it,” Maz said. “It’s just over here you said?”
“Yeah, I think under my chair,” Vorax said, stifling a mischievous grin as Maz bent down and began to hunt for the non-existent phone beneath the table. Vorax took the opportunity to grab the pasta serving spoon and scoop two quick heaping helpings into Maz’s bowl. He then quickly grabbed the sauce ladle and drowned the pasta in a warm, red, viscous tomato blanket, obscuring the contents, and the amount of said contents below.
“I don’t see it,” Maz said as he slowly righted himself just as Vorax plopped three large meatballs on top of Maz’s bowl and began to sprinkle some parmesan cheese over the picturesque delight.
“Bon appetite!” Vorax said before tending to his own empty bowl, hoping that Maz wouldn’t notice the ample portion of pasta sitting in front of him.
“Thanks for cooking tonight,” Maz said.
“No problem, little bro,” Vorax said. “When you get that cast off, you can start cooking for me, ha!”
“If you want salads and quinoa, then I’d be happy to,” Maz chuckled.
“Yes, right…” Vorax muttered, knowing that if all went as planned, salads were going to be a thing of the past for the dragon, and so far, that plan was on track. Though his younger brother was more of the book worm of the two, food was Vorax’s area of expertise, as was maintaining a blubbery frame such as his. As much as many people thought it was as simple as stuffing one’s face to pack on the pounds to the point that one’s waist was as round and one’s belly was as bulbous as Vorax’s, there was actually some thought behind it. Vorax had always been large, but even so, he had made intentional choices to help push that weight even further, choices that had required some deep, detailed research that had opened his eyes to the whole world of gaining science.
The first was the role of one’s gut microbiome, the unique collection of bacteria that reside in small and large intestines in one’s gut. Apparently, recent research was showing that there the specific composition of that microbiome, what bacteria and microorganisms were present, actually influenced one’s dietary choices and preferences. When someone ate healthier, such as more protein-rich food, bacteria that thrive in that environment outcompete the ones that may like fattier environments and thus become the dominant species in the gut and release factors that promote said person to eat more protein and healthy foods. The reverse held true as well. This was thought of as an underlying reason as to why people found foods outside of their current diet more repulsive and unappetizing, but these conditions weren’t set in stone; they could be manipulated. If someone who normally ate healthy stared eating more fatty, sugary, and salty foods, they would initially be disgusted by said food, but once those fat-loving microorganisms began to thrive and push out their peers, slowly that food would become more appealing until it’s all that person wanted to eat.
Vorax had immediately taken that information and spent the next week eating little more than burgers and fries to help promote his own calorie-loving diet habits, but now he was using that expert knowledge on his brother. By steadily introducing fattier foods into Maz’s otherwise healthier diet, he could slowly shift those preferences from liking spinach and brown rice to those craving burgers and cookies. It was an agonizingly slow process, as Vorax didn’t want to alert Maz to his intentions, and though oftentimes Vorax wanted to do nothing more than simply place a funnel in Maz’s mouth and make him drink a gallon of melted ice cream, he knew he had to be patient. As Vorax stole glances over toward Maz as the younger dragon began to chow down on his pasta, he noticed that some of that culinary trickery was starting to pay off.
Though the change was subtle, Vorax could see that Maz’s chin was looking a little softer, the sharp contours of his muzzle having grown slightly dull as his scales pressed out ever so slightly. Even if Maz looked in the mirror himself, he likely wouldn’t have noticed, but Vorax, with his keen eye could. He could see how Maz’s cheeks puffed just a bit out the side of his face while the dragon’s clothes hung just ever slightly less off his frame; Maz was starting to fill out. Judging by the way Maz was slowly working his way through the pasta without complaint, it came as no surprise to Vorax. The shift was happening right before his eyes, but he didn’t want to rush it. Maz was at a tipping point and he needed the ball to roll down the right side of the hill toward the gluttonous valley below.
“These meatballs are really good!” Maz said as he popped the last of the second meatball on his plate into his maw and began to cut into the third.
“All thanks to the secret ingredient,” Vorax said.
“Love and care?” Maz joked.
“Sure…” Vorax said; definitely not butter lard.
“Uhpmmh I’m getting so full,” Maz said as he gulped down the third meatball and sat huffing for a second. Vorax glanced into his bowl and saw that there were only a few bites of sauce drenched pasta left.
“Come on dude, you can finish it,” Vorax said. “It’s rude to not clean your plate you know.”
“I know,” Maz said, “But I don’t think I can…”
“Sure you can stomach a few more bites,” Vorax said, cutting his younger brother off. “It’s only a few noodles, what’s the worst that’s going to happen? You exploded like an overfilled balloon?”
“Maybe,” Maz chuckled as he brought another forkful of spaghetti to his mouth, slowly slurping them up, leaving a streak of sauce on his lips.
“You got a little something,” Vorax said, pointing toward Maz’s lips.
“As do, *chew, you,” Maz said, motioning toward Vorax who had sauce caked along the corners of his mouth and the edges of his cheeks.
“Touché,” Vorax said, extending his tongue and lapping the sauce up with a satisfying grunt. Maz chuckled again and grabbed another bite, distracted by Vorax’s antics and forgetting just how full he truly was at that moment; all according to plan. Soon enough, the last bits of noodle slid down Maz’s gullet and the dragon leaned back against his chair with a huff, his eyes heavy and his chest heaving; he looked exhausted. Vorax stood up from his seat and picked up his brother in his arms with a grunt.
“I may have, *hic, overdone it,” Maz said, clutching his straining middle.
“Nonsense,” Vorax said. “You just need to rest.” Vorax turned and began to waddle toward the living room.
“You know you don’t have to carry me,” Maz said.
“You are in no state to hobble away on your crutches,” Vorax said as he settled Maz down on the couch.
“You can leave the dishes out, I’ll clean them, *yawn, later…” Maz said, his voice trailing off as Vorax placed a blanket over his reclined body. A few seconds later, Vorax could see the heavy rise and fall of the dragon’s chest; he had sunk into a post-meal food coma.
“You just sleep that off, little bro,” Vorax said. “Maybe when you wake up you’ll have some room for dessert…”
CHAPTER I <--- PROLOGUE ---> CHAPTER III
---
Story:
Mazaku ©, Vorax © & Artwork:
Cameo:
Toothy ©:
---
July (MONTH 2):
“…And dinner is served!” Vorax proclaimed proudly as he plopped a large bowl of spaghetti down on the table with a loud thud before stepping back and taking a dramatic half bow. “Oh wait!” the dragon exclaimed, shooting upright, “I forgot the meatballs!” Maz couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched his older brother turn around and rush back to the kitchen. As Vorax pumped his arms, brushing them passed the love handles jutting out from his sides, his rear bounced from side to side, bumping into the open doorway to the kitchen as he waddled away. The impact ratted the wall and caused the picture frame on the wall to tilt; photo of the two brothers at the beach was often askew.
Maz settled into his seat along the edge of the dining room table and stared at the looming bowl of pasta before him; it was a familiar sight. Usually, even as a runner, Maz tried to avoid eating the carbs-incarnate that was spaghetti and meatballs, preferring to have a more rounded meal that focused more on protein and fibrous vegetables. With his leg still in a cast, however, Maz couldn’t stand long enough to cook his own food. He had once tried making a salmon and capers meal for himself while using his crutches, but after just a few minutes, his armpits burned and the awkward positioning and maneuvering had ended with a shattered baking tray and a hunk of burnt fish. Since then, Vorax had insisted on cooking for Maz, or a combination of cooking and picking up take out for the younger, injured dragon.
During those brown bag meals, Maz would ask Vorax to get him something healthy, like the one salad that all burger joints seemed to offer, or getting the whole grain dough and veggie pizza from Big Za’s downtown. Typically, his older brother came through with Maz’s intended sustenance, but every once and a while the tubby dragon would either forget or mix up his order, leaving Maz with nothing to eat but the classic cheeseburger from Burger Temple or the double cheese and beef burrito from Nuestra Cocina down the block.
The first few times that it had happened, Maz had been worried. He knew how many calories were in the burger and fries Vorax had brought him for dinner and he worried about just how many of those calories were going to be worming their way onto his frame. Even the greasy taste of the burger was kind of disappointing, his palate used to the crisper, healthier taste of fruit salads and brown rice. That worry had still been present the second time the mix up had happened, and third, and the forth.
Occasionally, Maz would feel a little annoyed with his older brother, even if he never showed it, but then he’d remember that his brother was only trying to help. He had been helping out a lot over the last month since his leg had been broken and if a few meals here and there were getting messed up, it was fine. It was the thought that counted, even if the mixed up orders appeared to be happening more and more frequently lately.
Even yesterday, when Vorax had brought home fried sweet and sour chicken instead of his vegetable stir fry from Sunrise Moon, Maz figured he should have been upset with Vorax, but in a way, he kind of liked the surprise; it added a little spice to his relatively mundane life as of late. He did little more than wake up and sit on the couch all day, every day. Thus, wondering if his veggie wrap was instead going to show up as a thick Italian sub was becoming a fun game for Maz; a distraction. Plus, he was starting to like the taste of that grease again. A few burgers and tacos here and there weren’t going to hurt him. They hadn’t up to this point, so as long as he indulged in them in moderation, everything should be fine; in the back of his mind, he just hoped it wasn’t a false sense of security. It was that security that actually made Maz a little excited for this spaghetti meal, knowing that his brother made the best tomato sauce and meatballs he had ever tasted, even if a warning bell in the back of his mind was telling him this was the third time in a week and a half he was eating pasta; calories, calories, calories…
Maz reached for the pasta and began to scoop some into the large bowl that Vorax had set for him. The pasta was lightly oiled with a separate bowl filled with steaming, tomato sauce that Vorax had been slow cooking all afternoon; the house smelled like a miniature Little Italy. Maz tried to gauge just the right amount of pasta to match the growling hunger in his belly, but the wideset bowl and the large serving spoon were making those approximations difficult. After just two scoops, Vorax reappeared with a large bowl of meatballs and plopped it down on the table next to Maz. Vorax took one look into Maz’s bowl and grimaced.
“Not nearly enough…” Vorax muttered.
“What was that?” Maz said.
“Oh uh,” Vorax said, thinking on his feet. “I was just thinking that I might have dropped my phone over there because I can’t find it.” Vorax padded his cargo shorts and though he felt the outline of his phone wedged up against his thigh, he pretended like he didn’t. “But I’ll just grab in later.”
“Oh no, I can grab it,” Maz said. “It’s just over here you said?”
“Yeah, I think under my chair,” Vorax said, stifling a mischievous grin as Maz bent down and began to hunt for the non-existent phone beneath the table. Vorax took the opportunity to grab the pasta serving spoon and scoop two quick heaping helpings into Maz’s bowl. He then quickly grabbed the sauce ladle and drowned the pasta in a warm, red, viscous tomato blanket, obscuring the contents, and the amount of said contents below.
“I don’t see it,” Maz said as he slowly righted himself just as Vorax plopped three large meatballs on top of Maz’s bowl and began to sprinkle some parmesan cheese over the picturesque delight.
“Bon appetite!” Vorax said before tending to his own empty bowl, hoping that Maz wouldn’t notice the ample portion of pasta sitting in front of him.
“Thanks for cooking tonight,” Maz said.
“No problem, little bro,” Vorax said. “When you get that cast off, you can start cooking for me, ha!”
“If you want salads and quinoa, then I’d be happy to,” Maz chuckled.
“Yes, right…” Vorax muttered, knowing that if all went as planned, salads were going to be a thing of the past for the dragon, and so far, that plan was on track. Though his younger brother was more of the book worm of the two, food was Vorax’s area of expertise, as was maintaining a blubbery frame such as his. As much as many people thought it was as simple as stuffing one’s face to pack on the pounds to the point that one’s waist was as round and one’s belly was as bulbous as Vorax’s, there was actually some thought behind it. Vorax had always been large, but even so, he had made intentional choices to help push that weight even further, choices that had required some deep, detailed research that had opened his eyes to the whole world of gaining science.
The first was the role of one’s gut microbiome, the unique collection of bacteria that reside in small and large intestines in one’s gut. Apparently, recent research was showing that there the specific composition of that microbiome, what bacteria and microorganisms were present, actually influenced one’s dietary choices and preferences. When someone ate healthier, such as more protein-rich food, bacteria that thrive in that environment outcompete the ones that may like fattier environments and thus become the dominant species in the gut and release factors that promote said person to eat more protein and healthy foods. The reverse held true as well. This was thought of as an underlying reason as to why people found foods outside of their current diet more repulsive and unappetizing, but these conditions weren’t set in stone; they could be manipulated. If someone who normally ate healthy stared eating more fatty, sugary, and salty foods, they would initially be disgusted by said food, but once those fat-loving microorganisms began to thrive and push out their peers, slowly that food would become more appealing until it’s all that person wanted to eat.
Vorax had immediately taken that information and spent the next week eating little more than burgers and fries to help promote his own calorie-loving diet habits, but now he was using that expert knowledge on his brother. By steadily introducing fattier foods into Maz’s otherwise healthier diet, he could slowly shift those preferences from liking spinach and brown rice to those craving burgers and cookies. It was an agonizingly slow process, as Vorax didn’t want to alert Maz to his intentions, and though oftentimes Vorax wanted to do nothing more than simply place a funnel in Maz’s mouth and make him drink a gallon of melted ice cream, he knew he had to be patient. As Vorax stole glances over toward Maz as the younger dragon began to chow down on his pasta, he noticed that some of that culinary trickery was starting to pay off.
Though the change was subtle, Vorax could see that Maz’s chin was looking a little softer, the sharp contours of his muzzle having grown slightly dull as his scales pressed out ever so slightly. Even if Maz looked in the mirror himself, he likely wouldn’t have noticed, but Vorax, with his keen eye could. He could see how Maz’s cheeks puffed just a bit out the side of his face while the dragon’s clothes hung just ever slightly less off his frame; Maz was starting to fill out. Judging by the way Maz was slowly working his way through the pasta without complaint, it came as no surprise to Vorax. The shift was happening right before his eyes, but he didn’t want to rush it. Maz was at a tipping point and he needed the ball to roll down the right side of the hill toward the gluttonous valley below.
“These meatballs are really good!” Maz said as he popped the last of the second meatball on his plate into his maw and began to cut into the third.
“All thanks to the secret ingredient,” Vorax said.
“Love and care?” Maz joked.
“Sure…” Vorax said; definitely not butter lard.
“Uhpmmh I’m getting so full,” Maz said as he gulped down the third meatball and sat huffing for a second. Vorax glanced into his bowl and saw that there were only a few bites of sauce drenched pasta left.
“Come on dude, you can finish it,” Vorax said. “It’s rude to not clean your plate you know.”
“I know,” Maz said, “But I don’t think I can…”
“Sure you can stomach a few more bites,” Vorax said, cutting his younger brother off. “It’s only a few noodles, what’s the worst that’s going to happen? You exploded like an overfilled balloon?”
“Maybe,” Maz chuckled as he brought another forkful of spaghetti to his mouth, slowly slurping them up, leaving a streak of sauce on his lips.
“You got a little something,” Vorax said, pointing toward Maz’s lips.
“As do, *chew, you,” Maz said, motioning toward Vorax who had sauce caked along the corners of his mouth and the edges of his cheeks.
“Touché,” Vorax said, extending his tongue and lapping the sauce up with a satisfying grunt. Maz chuckled again and grabbed another bite, distracted by Vorax’s antics and forgetting just how full he truly was at that moment; all according to plan. Soon enough, the last bits of noodle slid down Maz’s gullet and the dragon leaned back against his chair with a huff, his eyes heavy and his chest heaving; he looked exhausted. Vorax stood up from his seat and picked up his brother in his arms with a grunt.
“I may have, *hic, overdone it,” Maz said, clutching his straining middle.
“Nonsense,” Vorax said. “You just need to rest.” Vorax turned and began to waddle toward the living room.
“You know you don’t have to carry me,” Maz said.
“You are in no state to hobble away on your crutches,” Vorax said as he settled Maz down on the couch.
“You can leave the dishes out, I’ll clean them, *yawn, later…” Maz said, his voice trailing off as Vorax placed a blanket over his reclined body. A few seconds later, Vorax could see the heavy rise and fall of the dragon’s chest; he had sunk into a post-meal food coma.
“You just sleep that off, little bro,” Vorax said. “Maybe when you wake up you’ll have some room for dessert…”
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fat Furs
Species Western Dragon
Gender Multiple characters
Size 4500 x 3000px
Manipulating others into fatness, I very much agree with this. The story is taking a direction that I really enjoy!
And that gut squishing into the table, huff.
And that gut squishing into the table, huff.
Gotta say that as brilliant as the picture is the writing x3 Such descriptions enlighten perfectly the picture
Thank you so much! I am so honored to make your first story and illustration of your time being on here!
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