Running from Corpulence: CHAPTER IV
With the continuation of Maz's dark spiral into eating copious amounts of fatty foods, Maz's old running pal, Tony, came to visit his recovering friend.
He is in for a surprise.
CHAPTER III <--- PROLOGUE ---> CHAPTER V
---
Tony © & Story:
Mazaku © & Artwork:
Cameo:
Regil ©:
---
SEPTEMBER (Month 4)
Maz groaned and clutched his loud, growling stomach. He closed his eyes trying to ignore the pulsing beat of hunger in the forefront of his mind, trying to pretend it wasn’t so strong, that it hadn’t grown out of control, that it was merely a signal from his body that it was time for lunch and nothing more; he knew, however, that the latter wasn’t the case, as did his stomach. It had seemingly taken on a mind of its own, acting more like a bratty child throwing yet another tantrum for what it wanted, and though recently Maz had been giving into those screams, now he was trying to fight through them.
He glanced down at the plate before him and the barrage of green that radiated back into his eyes. The plate was overflowing with a variety of leafy greens ranging from baby spinach, shredded cabbage, kale, and iceberg lettuce, a classic. The purpled edges of red leaf lettuce broke up the monotony of green, as did the occasional cherry tomato, slice of pale onion, crouton, and hunks of orange bell pepper. Speckles of feta cheese completed the visual display and though Maz knew that just a few months ago he would have been more than excited to eat such a masterpiece of a salad, especially considering the light balsamic vinaigrette drizzled over the top, now that feeling was absent.
Maz felt nothing toward the salad, not even disgust, just nothing. It was like his mind didn’t even register it as a meal, as potential nourishment to fuel its vital processes, but instead, an art display or an object meant simply to be appreciated and admired. There weren’t golden fries buried beneath those greens, there wasn’t any grease seeping out from the peppers or croutons. There was no powdered sugar sprinkled on top and not a single item on the plate had an ounce of salt or seasoning. There was no spice. No flavor. No taste. There was nothing. There, however, Maz was sitting and staring at what was meant to be his one and only lunch for the day.
After sitting motionless for what felt like forever, as if wishing the salad would somehow turn into a fruit salad or just straight up meatlover’s pizza, he picked up his fork and stabbed it into the pile of veggies. He managed to fork a few pieces of leafy greens and attempted to stab one of the tomatoes, but took several thrusts to wrestle down the wily veggie, causing Maz’s eyebrows to inadvertently furrow; even the act of eating this meal was agonizing!
He opened his jaws wide, stuffed the wad of proverbial lawn clippings into his mouth, and began to chew. His tongue instinctively swished around his mouth, searching for any trace amount of sugar, salt, or fat or simply just the texture of something fried and crunchy. Maz sighed in disappointment, taking only the meagerest of pleasure from the pop of the tomatoes sweet juices on his tongue, but even that was muted by the bitter taste of spinach blanketing his taste buds.
This is objectively awful, Maz couldn’t help but think before catching himself and shaking his head. No, he needed to be positive! He needed to like this salad! He needed to eat this salad! He needed to get his diet back on track and that included forcing veggies in whatever form he could into his body! In a way, Maz was shocked by just how repulsed he was by the salad, something that had once been a staple of his diet not that long ago. It was like some switch deep within his gut had spontaneously switched, sending the signal up to his brain and tongue to make him crave only fatty, sugary, salty foods; all the food he had been eating lately.
Maz didn’t know what had happened but as soon as he had started partaking in all of those accidental burgers and burritos that Vorax had brought home for him, he simply craved them more and more until now it’s all he wanted to eat. It was that desire that he knew had led him to pack on a bit of weight while his ankle healed and it was that desire he knew he needed to break.
He was getting his cast off in just a few weeks and as soon as he did he was planning on buckling down and get back into running shape again and part of that was getting his eating habits back in order, or at least trying. After noticing his softening frame a few weeks ago, Maz had been trying to eat healthier but those attempts had been feeble at best. It hadn’t helped that the moment he decided he wanted to eat healthier he had gone and eaten not one but three Pigs in a Blanket Burgers from Ben’s Meat Palace that Vorax had brought home for dinner. He had effectively passed out on the couch in a food coma that night, but the next morning he had really started tackling his new health goals.
He started by throwing all of the old leftover fast food bags and pizza slices in the fridge away, to remove the temptation as well as penciling in some fresh fruit and veggies into Vorax’s shopping list before the dragon shuffled off to the grocery store. Of course, Vorax returned with some fresh apples and carrots, but also three pizza boxes under his arm, stating he saw a deal on his way home and couldn’t pass it up. Before Maz knew what he was doing, he was four slices deep while watching television on the couch with his brother feeling ashamed of himself yet not stopping the greasy, cheesy onslaught. The next day, Maz had forced himself to eat just some sliced apple slices with some peanut butter for breakfast instead of his usual breakfast sandwich or three and had spent the rest of the morning trying to quiet his screaming stomach. The pang of hunger quickly proved too great for the dragon to handle and for lunch he gave in and finished the rest of the pizza in the fridge and a bag of salt and vinegar chips; why had he been crazing something salty all that morning?
The last few weeks had gone by in a similar fashion. He tried eating quinoa one night and immediately guzzled down a box of hashbrowns the next morning. He tried cutting back on his snacking one afternoon but ate a double-sized dinner, losing himself in lasagna that Vorax had made before Maz realized what he was doing; his stomach was satisfied though. When Maz would try and eat something healthy or even just eat at normal hours in normal proportions, his body seemed to reject that new habit, rebounding with a vengeance and leading him to eat even more unhealthy food than he would have at the start.
He was finding it more and more difficult to ignore the cries from his stomach and the desires of his tongue and as result, despite his active efforts to achieve the opposite, he had put on some more weight. He didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, claiming the eight on the scale was merely a malfunctioning six, ignoring the fact that he had to lean a little further forward to even see the numbers over his thickening middle.
While sitting at the kitchen island counter forcing himself to eat his salad, Maz was wearing a set of his old running gear. He had told himself it was to help get him into that healthy mindset to make the veggies go down a bit easier, but in reality he was wearing them because the rest of his clothes were getting far too tight around his waist and torso; at least his running attire was elastic and could stretch. Even still, the clothes were clearly too small on his frame as his belly bulged out from beneath the compression material of his shirt, spilling forward onto his lap even as he subtly tried to suck in his belly. He could feel his middle pressing out to the sides as well, the edges of the shirt finding a home in the creases between the two sets of love handles along each of his sides, the second set being a recent addition to his frame just from earlier that week.
Maz’s breath felt heavy as his lungs worked against not just the compressing forces of his undersized shirt, form-fitting around the prominent set of moobs now jutting out of his chest, but also the added weight of those moobs as more fat seemed to accumulate on them each and every week. Maz could subtly feel the cramped feeling of his shorts squeezing around the pudge of his thighs, the rounded edges of his wider hips, and the bulging mass jutting out of his backside that now comprised his plump rump. He could feel the edges of his thighs and rear drooping over the edges of the stool beneath him, one that used to perfectly accommodate his once trim frame. As he looked down at his salad disappointedly, he could subtly see the edges of his muzzle the tops of his plumper cheeks stretching into his view, obscuring his vision ever so slightly at the edges of his field of view.
Maz felt chubby, he felt hungry, he felt out of shape, and he felt disappointed in himself for letting himself get to this point. Still, he couldn’t help his nostrils from twitching as a sweet aroma wafted into his nose, a smell he had been trying to ignore but as he took another bite of his bland greens he could ignore any longer. He looked to his right and locked eyes with the large, apple pie sitting on the edge of the island.
He could see the steam rising from the golden crust, reminding Maz once again that it had just come out of the oven if the pyramid of dirty pots and pans and the strewn about apple cores on the far counter. Vorax had just finished baking the pie and had conveniently left it to cool right next to Maz as the young dragon was making and sitting down for his salad. Maz had wanted to tell Vorax to put the pie further out of his reach but the older dragon had rushed out of the kitchen to grab a phone call, clean his room? Maz didn’t know. All he did know was that the pie was there and seemingly calling his name.
Maz knew he just needed to turn his gaze and hurry up and eat his salad and get out of there, but couldn’t get himself to avert his gaze. The pie just looks so inviting so, tasty so… Before Maz knew what he was doing he was reaching forward and pulling the pie toward him. He pushed his salad aside and simply stared at the golden pie. His mouth instinctively started to salivated and his stomach roared. Maz knew he shouldn’t.
He knew he should be strong and push the pie away. He knew he shouldn’t be picking up his fork a cutting himself a slice, but he was. He knew he shouldn’t be picking up and piece and popping it into his mouth, but he was. He knew he shouldn’t be enjoying the explosion of apple and cinnamon flavors on his tongue or moaning at both the fluffy texture of the crust and the soft yet firm texture of the apples themselves in his mouth, but he was. He knew that he absolutely shouldn’t be going for a second bite, or a third, or a fourth, but he was. He knew that he shouldn’t have felt that rush welling up within him and should have stepped away, but he didn’t.
Maz knew that he shouldn’t be reaching into the pie tin with his hand, scooping up a goopy hunk and stuffing it directly into his mouth, smearing pie filling on the edges of his lips and cheeks, but he was. He knew deep down that once again he had lost control and that he needed to get a hold himself, but he didn’t, that was until his ear twitched as he heard the door sound of a door opening behind him.
“Maz?!” a voice exclaimed behind the dragon, making Maz freeze; Tony! His eyes bugged open as he slowly turned over his shoulder. Standing in the doorway was a familiar-looking fox donning a running outfit similar to the dragon’s own, though the vulpine’s stuck to his trim frame tightly due to the copious amounts of sweat soaking the fabric. His friend’s jaw was slacked open and quivering in disbelief.
“Maz, what are you doing...!?!”
….
….
“What happened to you…!?!”
He is in for a surprise.
CHAPTER III <--- PROLOGUE ---> CHAPTER V
---
Tony © & Story:
Mazaku © & Artwork:
Cameo:
Regil ©:
---
SEPTEMBER (Month 4)
Maz groaned and clutched his loud, growling stomach. He closed his eyes trying to ignore the pulsing beat of hunger in the forefront of his mind, trying to pretend it wasn’t so strong, that it hadn’t grown out of control, that it was merely a signal from his body that it was time for lunch and nothing more; he knew, however, that the latter wasn’t the case, as did his stomach. It had seemingly taken on a mind of its own, acting more like a bratty child throwing yet another tantrum for what it wanted, and though recently Maz had been giving into those screams, now he was trying to fight through them.
He glanced down at the plate before him and the barrage of green that radiated back into his eyes. The plate was overflowing with a variety of leafy greens ranging from baby spinach, shredded cabbage, kale, and iceberg lettuce, a classic. The purpled edges of red leaf lettuce broke up the monotony of green, as did the occasional cherry tomato, slice of pale onion, crouton, and hunks of orange bell pepper. Speckles of feta cheese completed the visual display and though Maz knew that just a few months ago he would have been more than excited to eat such a masterpiece of a salad, especially considering the light balsamic vinaigrette drizzled over the top, now that feeling was absent.
Maz felt nothing toward the salad, not even disgust, just nothing. It was like his mind didn’t even register it as a meal, as potential nourishment to fuel its vital processes, but instead, an art display or an object meant simply to be appreciated and admired. There weren’t golden fries buried beneath those greens, there wasn’t any grease seeping out from the peppers or croutons. There was no powdered sugar sprinkled on top and not a single item on the plate had an ounce of salt or seasoning. There was no spice. No flavor. No taste. There was nothing. There, however, Maz was sitting and staring at what was meant to be his one and only lunch for the day.
After sitting motionless for what felt like forever, as if wishing the salad would somehow turn into a fruit salad or just straight up meatlover’s pizza, he picked up his fork and stabbed it into the pile of veggies. He managed to fork a few pieces of leafy greens and attempted to stab one of the tomatoes, but took several thrusts to wrestle down the wily veggie, causing Maz’s eyebrows to inadvertently furrow; even the act of eating this meal was agonizing!
He opened his jaws wide, stuffed the wad of proverbial lawn clippings into his mouth, and began to chew. His tongue instinctively swished around his mouth, searching for any trace amount of sugar, salt, or fat or simply just the texture of something fried and crunchy. Maz sighed in disappointment, taking only the meagerest of pleasure from the pop of the tomatoes sweet juices on his tongue, but even that was muted by the bitter taste of spinach blanketing his taste buds.
This is objectively awful, Maz couldn’t help but think before catching himself and shaking his head. No, he needed to be positive! He needed to like this salad! He needed to eat this salad! He needed to get his diet back on track and that included forcing veggies in whatever form he could into his body! In a way, Maz was shocked by just how repulsed he was by the salad, something that had once been a staple of his diet not that long ago. It was like some switch deep within his gut had spontaneously switched, sending the signal up to his brain and tongue to make him crave only fatty, sugary, salty foods; all the food he had been eating lately.
Maz didn’t know what had happened but as soon as he had started partaking in all of those accidental burgers and burritos that Vorax had brought home for him, he simply craved them more and more until now it’s all he wanted to eat. It was that desire that he knew had led him to pack on a bit of weight while his ankle healed and it was that desire he knew he needed to break.
He was getting his cast off in just a few weeks and as soon as he did he was planning on buckling down and get back into running shape again and part of that was getting his eating habits back in order, or at least trying. After noticing his softening frame a few weeks ago, Maz had been trying to eat healthier but those attempts had been feeble at best. It hadn’t helped that the moment he decided he wanted to eat healthier he had gone and eaten not one but three Pigs in a Blanket Burgers from Ben’s Meat Palace that Vorax had brought home for dinner. He had effectively passed out on the couch in a food coma that night, but the next morning he had really started tackling his new health goals.
He started by throwing all of the old leftover fast food bags and pizza slices in the fridge away, to remove the temptation as well as penciling in some fresh fruit and veggies into Vorax’s shopping list before the dragon shuffled off to the grocery store. Of course, Vorax returned with some fresh apples and carrots, but also three pizza boxes under his arm, stating he saw a deal on his way home and couldn’t pass it up. Before Maz knew what he was doing, he was four slices deep while watching television on the couch with his brother feeling ashamed of himself yet not stopping the greasy, cheesy onslaught. The next day, Maz had forced himself to eat just some sliced apple slices with some peanut butter for breakfast instead of his usual breakfast sandwich or three and had spent the rest of the morning trying to quiet his screaming stomach. The pang of hunger quickly proved too great for the dragon to handle and for lunch he gave in and finished the rest of the pizza in the fridge and a bag of salt and vinegar chips; why had he been crazing something salty all that morning?
The last few weeks had gone by in a similar fashion. He tried eating quinoa one night and immediately guzzled down a box of hashbrowns the next morning. He tried cutting back on his snacking one afternoon but ate a double-sized dinner, losing himself in lasagna that Vorax had made before Maz realized what he was doing; his stomach was satisfied though. When Maz would try and eat something healthy or even just eat at normal hours in normal proportions, his body seemed to reject that new habit, rebounding with a vengeance and leading him to eat even more unhealthy food than he would have at the start.
He was finding it more and more difficult to ignore the cries from his stomach and the desires of his tongue and as result, despite his active efforts to achieve the opposite, he had put on some more weight. He didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, claiming the eight on the scale was merely a malfunctioning six, ignoring the fact that he had to lean a little further forward to even see the numbers over his thickening middle.
While sitting at the kitchen island counter forcing himself to eat his salad, Maz was wearing a set of his old running gear. He had told himself it was to help get him into that healthy mindset to make the veggies go down a bit easier, but in reality he was wearing them because the rest of his clothes were getting far too tight around his waist and torso; at least his running attire was elastic and could stretch. Even still, the clothes were clearly too small on his frame as his belly bulged out from beneath the compression material of his shirt, spilling forward onto his lap even as he subtly tried to suck in his belly. He could feel his middle pressing out to the sides as well, the edges of the shirt finding a home in the creases between the two sets of love handles along each of his sides, the second set being a recent addition to his frame just from earlier that week.
Maz’s breath felt heavy as his lungs worked against not just the compressing forces of his undersized shirt, form-fitting around the prominent set of moobs now jutting out of his chest, but also the added weight of those moobs as more fat seemed to accumulate on them each and every week. Maz could subtly feel the cramped feeling of his shorts squeezing around the pudge of his thighs, the rounded edges of his wider hips, and the bulging mass jutting out of his backside that now comprised his plump rump. He could feel the edges of his thighs and rear drooping over the edges of the stool beneath him, one that used to perfectly accommodate his once trim frame. As he looked down at his salad disappointedly, he could subtly see the edges of his muzzle the tops of his plumper cheeks stretching into his view, obscuring his vision ever so slightly at the edges of his field of view.
Maz felt chubby, he felt hungry, he felt out of shape, and he felt disappointed in himself for letting himself get to this point. Still, he couldn’t help his nostrils from twitching as a sweet aroma wafted into his nose, a smell he had been trying to ignore but as he took another bite of his bland greens he could ignore any longer. He looked to his right and locked eyes with the large, apple pie sitting on the edge of the island.
He could see the steam rising from the golden crust, reminding Maz once again that it had just come out of the oven if the pyramid of dirty pots and pans and the strewn about apple cores on the far counter. Vorax had just finished baking the pie and had conveniently left it to cool right next to Maz as the young dragon was making and sitting down for his salad. Maz had wanted to tell Vorax to put the pie further out of his reach but the older dragon had rushed out of the kitchen to grab a phone call, clean his room? Maz didn’t know. All he did know was that the pie was there and seemingly calling his name.
Maz knew he just needed to turn his gaze and hurry up and eat his salad and get out of there, but couldn’t get himself to avert his gaze. The pie just looks so inviting so, tasty so… Before Maz knew what he was doing he was reaching forward and pulling the pie toward him. He pushed his salad aside and simply stared at the golden pie. His mouth instinctively started to salivated and his stomach roared. Maz knew he shouldn’t.
He knew he should be strong and push the pie away. He knew he shouldn’t be picking up his fork a cutting himself a slice, but he was. He knew he shouldn’t be picking up and piece and popping it into his mouth, but he was. He knew he shouldn’t be enjoying the explosion of apple and cinnamon flavors on his tongue or moaning at both the fluffy texture of the crust and the soft yet firm texture of the apples themselves in his mouth, but he was. He knew that he absolutely shouldn’t be going for a second bite, or a third, or a fourth, but he was. He knew that he shouldn’t have felt that rush welling up within him and should have stepped away, but he didn’t.
Maz knew that he shouldn’t be reaching into the pie tin with his hand, scooping up a goopy hunk and stuffing it directly into his mouth, smearing pie filling on the edges of his lips and cheeks, but he was. He knew deep down that once again he had lost control and that he needed to get a hold himself, but he didn’t, that was until his ear twitched as he heard the door sound of a door opening behind him.
“Maz?!” a voice exclaimed behind the dragon, making Maz freeze; Tony! His eyes bugged open as he slowly turned over his shoulder. Standing in the doorway was a familiar-looking fox donning a running outfit similar to the dragon’s own, though the vulpine’s stuck to his trim frame tightly due to the copious amounts of sweat soaking the fabric. His friend’s jaw was slacked open and quivering in disbelief.
“Maz, what are you doing...!?!”
….
….
“What happened to you…!?!”
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fat Furs
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Multiple characters
Size 1280 x 853px
If his friend likes running so much, he can run and get some more goodies.
Oh my goodness that is the best thing I've heard in a while. Thank you so much for that~
You should rename this to Maz’s oh shit moment XD
But in all seriousness though you might want to get a new shirt bro maybe your brother could help with that XD
But in all seriousness though you might want to get a new shirt bro maybe your brother could help with that XD
This is not what it looks like, I swear!
I always wear shirts when stuffing my gut, honest! XP
I always wear shirts when stuffing my gut, honest! XP
Here's what I'm hoping for October.
Maz starts breaking down and crying. Tony comforts and promises to help him get out of this habit of eating and Vorax apologises and explains he hated seeing his little brother being a healthy guy and not being like him anymore.
I think Vorax feels alone now that Maz was very healthy and wanted his little brother back. But maybe Tony can help Vorax out by helping him drop his weight so he can be like his little brother too. Hmm maybe Vorax can be Chubby and Muscular at the same time.
Maz starts breaking down and crying. Tony comforts and promises to help him get out of this habit of eating and Vorax apologises and explains he hated seeing his little brother being a healthy guy and not being like him anymore.
I think Vorax feels alone now that Maz was very healthy and wanted his little brother back. But maybe Tony can help Vorax out by helping him drop his weight so he can be like his little brother too. Hmm maybe Vorax can be Chubby and Muscular at the same time.
Holy shit... Deep stuff, but I like it.
Remember that this is a 15 part series and there is plenty more to go, but keep in mind what you are thinking as what you have here is something pretty damn close to what I was thinking originally for an ending. Good job~
Remember that this is a 15 part series and there is plenty more to go, but keep in mind what you are thinking as what you have here is something pretty damn close to what I was thinking originally for an ending. Good job~
Aww I'm very happy to hear that bud! ^^ I always believed in the whole "Great minds think alike." And I love this series so far. Keep going strong, friend and do what you love.
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