Running from Corpulence: CHAPTER V
With Maz's cast now off, he can finally do what he's wanted to do for months. Run. Although the couple hundred extra pounds (if not more) of fat that he has packed on over the months has something to say about that...
CHAPTER IV <--- PROLOGUE ---> CHAPTER VI
---
Tony © & Story:
Mazaku © & Artwork:
Cameos:
Artie ©:
---
OCTOBER (Month 5)
Why was he doing this to himself? That was the question that was running over and over again in Maz’s mind, a perpetual loop of regret that seemed to be the only cognizant thought to permeate the haze of pain and utter exhaustion clouding his mind. The dragon was only five minutes into his run and already he wanted to collapse onto the sidewalk. He had barely made it a few blocks from his house and his running attire was soaked with sweat, sticking to his sweaty folds and jiggling curves. His lungs ached for air and his legs burned with an unholy fire; every fiber of his being just wanted to stop.
Maz knew he should have been excited for this his first run since his cast had been taken off, but as he tried with all his might to pump his legs, he felt like something was missing. Where was that spark of joy that had once filled his heart when he had jogged every square inch of his neighborhood and beyond? There was no love there anymore. There was no joy. There was only disg…. Maz shook his head, no he had to enjoy this, he just had to! He used to love running and he could force himself to love it again, he just needed to keep going. One foot in front of the other…
Maz sighed: if only it were that easy.
At one point long ago, it had been just that simple, where Maz could glide for miles and miles, seemingly effortlessly; now was a different story entirely. His running motion felt so clumsy and off-balance, like he was running through a pool of jello with aggressive aquatic life ramming into him from both sides, causing his body to sway back and forth like a rocking ship on the high seas. His legs felt like lead, with him barely able to hoist them off the ground and merely let gravity do the working in bringing them back to earth; the power in his strides had diminished. They were weak, slow, and cumbersome. Each stomp forward on the sidewalk ricocheted up through his entire body as a series of ripples that cascaded along his bulbous calves, his plump haunches, his rounded hips, his bulging belly which slapped against his broad thighs, beyond his puffy moobs, along his doughy arms, and finally toward his blubbery neck and head.
His tongue lulled out the side of his mouth as he struggled to suck in the air his lungs so desperately desired as they struggled against not only the slap of his flabby chest above but the constriction of the compression shirt he was wearing. It hugged the pudge of his frame, forming divots at its seems as fat squeezed out from underneath like a tube a toothpaste all while the fabric itself molded perfectly to the fat folds and underlying crevices trapped within its confines. His shorts were fairing no better. He was wearing the largest pair he could find deep within his dressers and still it hugged his upper thighs tightly while the waistband pinched his hips. Of course, that dull ache of undersized attire well to the wayside beyond the intense burn of his struggling muscles and the intense heat Maz felt despite the late afternoon fall run.
The wind blustered around Maz, a cool bite to the air that Maz knew would have prompted him to dress in long sleeves for even a run like this just a year ago, but now even the skimpy shorts and shirt felt like too much. It was all too much. He knew he should keep pushing himself, to build up that sense of grit and perseverance that he had spent years developing before, but his will power gave out; his muscles gave out. His body was done. Maz came to a stumbling halt at a bench sitting along the edge of a large park.
Leaning against the metal armrest for a second as he tried to catch his wheezing breath. He could feel his legs shaking, causing the outer softer layers of his thighs to jostle along with his stomach which drooped down from his torso toward the ground in his hunched over position.
Grimacing, Maz shuffled around the side of the bench and plopped down, relishing in the sense of relief of simply getting off his feet. He closed his eyes and just focused on breathing that brisk fall air, letting it cool his insides and soothe him. Soon enough,
Maz’s heart began to race and as the sense of relief faded along with the burn of his muscles, a sense of disappointment welled up inside of him: what had happened to him? He used to be able to run over ten miles without stopping, no problem, but now he could barely make it a few blocks! The drake looked down at his watch saw his timer tick past the five-minute mark. Maz lulled his head back: that was awful! He could barely manage five minutes of light jogging! Had he really regressed that much? Had he really let himself go that much?
Maz was still coming to grips with the weight he had packed on, especially after his confrontation with Tony a few weeks ago. His canine friend thought it would be nice to surprise him, to help cheer him up after he had been cooped up inside for so long, but when the fox had walked in on Maz stuffing his maw directly into a freshly baked pie, he had been more than surprised himself; he was shocked. He was shocked at how much Maz had let himself go, letting his once nimble limbs become caked in pudge to the point that Tony barely recognized the dragon. He was shocked that Maz had become such a glutton as of late. What he was most shocked by though was the lack of control Maz seemed to have. He had let his hedonistic desires run amuck for so long that his willpower had effectively vaporized into thin air. It seemed so out of character, but there the dragon was, gorging himself as if calories were merely a fantastical concept and hadn’t rendered his body soft, pudgy, and far from anyone’s idea of the runner that had once defined Maz’s personality and being.
Maz remembered feeling his cheeks grow hot with embarrassment as he had turned to confront his friend. Tony was at a literal loss of words, simply staring at Maz and the pie smeared across his chubby muzzle and bulbous cheeks. They had sat in silence for what felt like an eternity as Tony stammered to find something, anything to say. Ultimately the canine had slowly backed out the door, calling for Maz to get in touch with him when he got his cast off. It was the only thing he could squeak out; the one olive branch he could extend to help his friend get back in shape, to get back to what he was. Maz knew that was Tony’s intentions, that beyond the shock that he only wanted to help Maz get back to who he was, but that only served to make Maz feel even more ashamed of himself. Things shouldn’t have gotten to this point and clearly, it was worse than Maz had previously imagined; he had the outside proof to confirm that now.
The embarrassment had lingered for hours, an agonizing feeling that had led Maz to eat the rest of the pie and an entire bag of salt and vinegar chips to console himself; an act that seemed to perpetuate the very emotion of self-disappointment he was trying to forget. He knew he just needed to get his cast off. As soon as that happened, then he could call Tony and they could go running and he’d get back in shape and everything would return to normal, well as normal as it could.
Because of his leg, Maz had started college from home at the start of the fall, taking several online classes that were easier to manage because of his ankle than if he had to trek to school every day. Maz knew he was missing out on some of that college experience that came with physically being on campus, and he was looking forward to going there once his leg was healed. He was looking forward to getting back to running once his leg healed. He was looking forward to things going back to normal once his leg healed. Maz pinned his entire future on the day his cast came off, thus when that day had finally come two weeks ago, he had been incredibly excited.
When the doctor had cut off the hunk of hardened bandages that the dragon had come to despise, he had been elated; things were going to be different now! The doctor warned Maz that because of the cast, his muscles may have atrophied a bit, so he should take it easy for a few days. All Maz wanted to do was get up and move, but Vorax had taking it upon himself personally to make sure the doctor’s orders were carried out. The moment they had gotten home, Vorax forced Maz to lay on the couch to recover, acting as if this were the most important thing in the world and ignoring the fact that’s all Maz had been doing for the last few months. Vorax treated his little draconian brother like royalty, giving him shoulder massages, buying him some new video games, and of course bringing Maz all the food he could want and then some.
Even though Maz knew he should be avoiding the burgers, lasagna, and burritos that his brother was pushing on him, the sincerity in Vorax’s insistence and how his older brother was going out of his way to tend to him during his last few days of recovery, he felt bad saying no. Besides, he would have been lying if he didn’t say it kind of felt nice being treated like a king for a few days, though what was supposed to be two or three days of post-cast recovery quickly turned into seven days, ten days, and beyond.
Maz soon found himself falling back into his recent lazy habits, spending all day on the couch even as the sun shone brightly outside, calling to him. He had no excuse anymore. He could start running at any second, but he didn’t. He could go to the store and buy his vegetables at any point he wanted, yet here he was still lazing around and eating all the junk that Vorax gave him which had led to a few additional flabby pounds making their way onto his frame. It wasn’t that he had grown complacent, what concerned Maz the most was that the will, that underlying spark, to change was growing dim. That’s what had finally prompted him to get up and off his butt that afternoon to go for this run. To try and break the cycle. He was supposed to, right? He just had to, right?
Maz had considered giving Tony a call but had stopped himself. He couldn’t face that embarrassment again. Maz knew that
Tony would be wondering why he hadn’t called him earlier, right when his cast had come off. Why had he spent the last two weeks sitting on his butt eating chips all day instead of eating salads? Why hadn’t he been taking steps to lose the weight? Why was he disregarding his health? Even if Tony said nothing, as he likely would as the good friend that he was, and simply went on a run with him, he knew he wouldn’t be able to shake those thoughts from his head. There was no way Tony wouldn’t be thinking of those things, right? Maz couldn’t face that. No, Maz would go on the run on his own, just to get back in rhythm before getting Tony involved. That would work, right?
“Lot of good that did,” Maz muttered under his breath as he shifted positions on the bench. If Tony were here, he’d have helped push Maz to run just a few more blocks, but that obviously didn’t happen. Maz’s own ego had gotten in the way of his own self-betterment and he felt ashamed of that. Why was he getting in his own way with all of this? Why was he throwing so many obstacles in front of himself? It was almost like he was subconsciously trying to fail. Almost like, somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind that he didn’t actually want to lose the weight and get back in shape…
Maz jumped slightly as he heard the screech of tires before him. A black Toyota Camry had come to a stop directly in front of him, one with a “Got Milk… Chocolate Ice Cream?” plastered on the edge of the back bumper: a car Maz recognized. The passenger side window rolled down, reveal the cheerful face of his brother.
“Need a lift home?” Vorax asked.
“*Huff, yeah,” Maz sighed. He grunted as he slowly got to his feet, his legs already feeling tight as he hobbled over to the car. He whipped open the door and immediately a mountain of empty bags of fast food and a half-finished bottle of Pepsi fell out and onto the sidewalk.
“Oops, sorry,” Vorax said. “It’s been a few weeks since I cleaned up in here.” The drake tossed a handful of empty chip bags and wrappers from the passenger seat into the back seat where even more food trash had accumulated. Eventually, Maz slid in and shut the door behind him. When he turned, he saw Vorax suddenly, in one swift motion, reach into a brown bag on his lap, pull out a burger, and offer it to him.
“Oh no, I probably shouldn’t,” Maz said.
“Oh come on, they’re from that new place that opened by the Taco Bell, where the old sporting goods store was. They’re so good!”
“I don’t know...” Maz said, more of a feeble attempt to convince himself more than his brother; he couldn’t deny the greasy aromas were making his mouth water and his stomach rumble.
“Come on, I got an extra one just for you,” Vorax said, placing the burger in Maz’s lap. He clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Besides, you’ve earned it.”
“Earned it?” Maz asked, picking up the burger and noting the three layers of patties and accompanying slices of melted cheese literally bursting out from between the thick potato bun.
“Yeah, of course! Running is so hard!” Vorax said.
“Yeah,” Maz admitted pensively; harder than it used to be.
“Not to mention so boring,” Vorax said as he shifted the car into gear and began to roll down the vacant street. “I couldn’t do it, that’s for sure. I’d so much rather just sit at home watching a good movie or playing an engaging video game than just running the same loop around the neighborhood over and over again, day in and day out, especially on a day like today.” Vorax motioned toward the red, orange, and yellow leaves blowing across the street in the wind. “Nope, today is definitely a curl up on the couch with a jug of hot chocolate type of day.”
“Yeah, you have a point,” Maz said, the words seeming to slip out of his mouth even before he thought of them.
“Hey, there’s supposed to be a Marvel Movie marathon on FX later this afternoon. What do you say if I just make some popcorn, some Swiss Miss, and we just veg out for the rest of the day?”
“That actually sounds pretty nice,” Maz said.
“Good, now are you going to eat that burger or not?” Vorax asked, rubbing his gut. “If not, give it here. I need to get some more grub in my tank. I’m starving!” Vorax reached across the car as if he was going to snatch it away from his younger brother. Maz pulled the morsel just out of Vorax’s reach.
“Hey hey, I’m getting to it!” Maz said oddly possessively. He opened his maw and took a large bite, letting out an involuntary moan as the grease and cheese hit his tongue; that was exactly what he needed at that moment!
“I take it that it’s good?” Vorax asked with a smirk.
“Very,” Maz replied through a full mouth. He swallowed and paused for a second, stifling a small belch before taking another bite; why did this taste so satisfying? Why did all of his fears, concerns, and stresses seem to melt away as the melted cheese graced his tongue?
“There’s nothing like a warm burger to warm you up from the inside,” Vorax chuckled. “See, isn’t that so much better than running out there in the wind and cold?” Though Maz didn’t want to admit it, he knew that Vorax was right; at that moment, he was a thousand times happier than he had been just ten minutes ago, even though he had been fantasizing about that run for months now; it just hadn’t lived up to expectations. The burger, however, was meeting if not exceeding all those expectations. The grease was so much more salient, no matter how short term that joy was than the deeper, distant satisfaction of getting back in shape; did that mean his priorities were screwed up?
Was that so bad to admit? Was it bad to admit that at that moment he was happy? Was it wrong to want to be happy? To want another burger? To want to simply curl up inside and never leave again?
Was it wrong that at that moment he had no desire to run now, tomorrow, or really ever again?
CHAPTER IV <--- PROLOGUE ---> CHAPTER VI
---
Tony © & Story:
Mazaku © & Artwork:
Cameos:
Artie ©:
---
OCTOBER (Month 5)
Why was he doing this to himself? That was the question that was running over and over again in Maz’s mind, a perpetual loop of regret that seemed to be the only cognizant thought to permeate the haze of pain and utter exhaustion clouding his mind. The dragon was only five minutes into his run and already he wanted to collapse onto the sidewalk. He had barely made it a few blocks from his house and his running attire was soaked with sweat, sticking to his sweaty folds and jiggling curves. His lungs ached for air and his legs burned with an unholy fire; every fiber of his being just wanted to stop.
Maz knew he should have been excited for this his first run since his cast had been taken off, but as he tried with all his might to pump his legs, he felt like something was missing. Where was that spark of joy that had once filled his heart when he had jogged every square inch of his neighborhood and beyond? There was no love there anymore. There was no joy. There was only disg…. Maz shook his head, no he had to enjoy this, he just had to! He used to love running and he could force himself to love it again, he just needed to keep going. One foot in front of the other…
Maz sighed: if only it were that easy.
At one point long ago, it had been just that simple, where Maz could glide for miles and miles, seemingly effortlessly; now was a different story entirely. His running motion felt so clumsy and off-balance, like he was running through a pool of jello with aggressive aquatic life ramming into him from both sides, causing his body to sway back and forth like a rocking ship on the high seas. His legs felt like lead, with him barely able to hoist them off the ground and merely let gravity do the working in bringing them back to earth; the power in his strides had diminished. They were weak, slow, and cumbersome. Each stomp forward on the sidewalk ricocheted up through his entire body as a series of ripples that cascaded along his bulbous calves, his plump haunches, his rounded hips, his bulging belly which slapped against his broad thighs, beyond his puffy moobs, along his doughy arms, and finally toward his blubbery neck and head.
His tongue lulled out the side of his mouth as he struggled to suck in the air his lungs so desperately desired as they struggled against not only the slap of his flabby chest above but the constriction of the compression shirt he was wearing. It hugged the pudge of his frame, forming divots at its seems as fat squeezed out from underneath like a tube a toothpaste all while the fabric itself molded perfectly to the fat folds and underlying crevices trapped within its confines. His shorts were fairing no better. He was wearing the largest pair he could find deep within his dressers and still it hugged his upper thighs tightly while the waistband pinched his hips. Of course, that dull ache of undersized attire well to the wayside beyond the intense burn of his struggling muscles and the intense heat Maz felt despite the late afternoon fall run.
The wind blustered around Maz, a cool bite to the air that Maz knew would have prompted him to dress in long sleeves for even a run like this just a year ago, but now even the skimpy shorts and shirt felt like too much. It was all too much. He knew he should keep pushing himself, to build up that sense of grit and perseverance that he had spent years developing before, but his will power gave out; his muscles gave out. His body was done. Maz came to a stumbling halt at a bench sitting along the edge of a large park.
Leaning against the metal armrest for a second as he tried to catch his wheezing breath. He could feel his legs shaking, causing the outer softer layers of his thighs to jostle along with his stomach which drooped down from his torso toward the ground in his hunched over position.
Grimacing, Maz shuffled around the side of the bench and plopped down, relishing in the sense of relief of simply getting off his feet. He closed his eyes and just focused on breathing that brisk fall air, letting it cool his insides and soothe him. Soon enough,
Maz’s heart began to race and as the sense of relief faded along with the burn of his muscles, a sense of disappointment welled up inside of him: what had happened to him? He used to be able to run over ten miles without stopping, no problem, but now he could barely make it a few blocks! The drake looked down at his watch saw his timer tick past the five-minute mark. Maz lulled his head back: that was awful! He could barely manage five minutes of light jogging! Had he really regressed that much? Had he really let himself go that much?
Maz was still coming to grips with the weight he had packed on, especially after his confrontation with Tony a few weeks ago. His canine friend thought it would be nice to surprise him, to help cheer him up after he had been cooped up inside for so long, but when the fox had walked in on Maz stuffing his maw directly into a freshly baked pie, he had been more than surprised himself; he was shocked. He was shocked at how much Maz had let himself go, letting his once nimble limbs become caked in pudge to the point that Tony barely recognized the dragon. He was shocked that Maz had become such a glutton as of late. What he was most shocked by though was the lack of control Maz seemed to have. He had let his hedonistic desires run amuck for so long that his willpower had effectively vaporized into thin air. It seemed so out of character, but there the dragon was, gorging himself as if calories were merely a fantastical concept and hadn’t rendered his body soft, pudgy, and far from anyone’s idea of the runner that had once defined Maz’s personality and being.
Maz remembered feeling his cheeks grow hot with embarrassment as he had turned to confront his friend. Tony was at a literal loss of words, simply staring at Maz and the pie smeared across his chubby muzzle and bulbous cheeks. They had sat in silence for what felt like an eternity as Tony stammered to find something, anything to say. Ultimately the canine had slowly backed out the door, calling for Maz to get in touch with him when he got his cast off. It was the only thing he could squeak out; the one olive branch he could extend to help his friend get back in shape, to get back to what he was. Maz knew that was Tony’s intentions, that beyond the shock that he only wanted to help Maz get back to who he was, but that only served to make Maz feel even more ashamed of himself. Things shouldn’t have gotten to this point and clearly, it was worse than Maz had previously imagined; he had the outside proof to confirm that now.
The embarrassment had lingered for hours, an agonizing feeling that had led Maz to eat the rest of the pie and an entire bag of salt and vinegar chips to console himself; an act that seemed to perpetuate the very emotion of self-disappointment he was trying to forget. He knew he just needed to get his cast off. As soon as that happened, then he could call Tony and they could go running and he’d get back in shape and everything would return to normal, well as normal as it could.
Because of his leg, Maz had started college from home at the start of the fall, taking several online classes that were easier to manage because of his ankle than if he had to trek to school every day. Maz knew he was missing out on some of that college experience that came with physically being on campus, and he was looking forward to going there once his leg was healed. He was looking forward to getting back to running once his leg healed. He was looking forward to things going back to normal once his leg healed. Maz pinned his entire future on the day his cast came off, thus when that day had finally come two weeks ago, he had been incredibly excited.
When the doctor had cut off the hunk of hardened bandages that the dragon had come to despise, he had been elated; things were going to be different now! The doctor warned Maz that because of the cast, his muscles may have atrophied a bit, so he should take it easy for a few days. All Maz wanted to do was get up and move, but Vorax had taking it upon himself personally to make sure the doctor’s orders were carried out. The moment they had gotten home, Vorax forced Maz to lay on the couch to recover, acting as if this were the most important thing in the world and ignoring the fact that’s all Maz had been doing for the last few months. Vorax treated his little draconian brother like royalty, giving him shoulder massages, buying him some new video games, and of course bringing Maz all the food he could want and then some.
Even though Maz knew he should be avoiding the burgers, lasagna, and burritos that his brother was pushing on him, the sincerity in Vorax’s insistence and how his older brother was going out of his way to tend to him during his last few days of recovery, he felt bad saying no. Besides, he would have been lying if he didn’t say it kind of felt nice being treated like a king for a few days, though what was supposed to be two or three days of post-cast recovery quickly turned into seven days, ten days, and beyond.
Maz soon found himself falling back into his recent lazy habits, spending all day on the couch even as the sun shone brightly outside, calling to him. He had no excuse anymore. He could start running at any second, but he didn’t. He could go to the store and buy his vegetables at any point he wanted, yet here he was still lazing around and eating all the junk that Vorax gave him which had led to a few additional flabby pounds making their way onto his frame. It wasn’t that he had grown complacent, what concerned Maz the most was that the will, that underlying spark, to change was growing dim. That’s what had finally prompted him to get up and off his butt that afternoon to go for this run. To try and break the cycle. He was supposed to, right? He just had to, right?
Maz had considered giving Tony a call but had stopped himself. He couldn’t face that embarrassment again. Maz knew that
Tony would be wondering why he hadn’t called him earlier, right when his cast had come off. Why had he spent the last two weeks sitting on his butt eating chips all day instead of eating salads? Why hadn’t he been taking steps to lose the weight? Why was he disregarding his health? Even if Tony said nothing, as he likely would as the good friend that he was, and simply went on a run with him, he knew he wouldn’t be able to shake those thoughts from his head. There was no way Tony wouldn’t be thinking of those things, right? Maz couldn’t face that. No, Maz would go on the run on his own, just to get back in rhythm before getting Tony involved. That would work, right?
“Lot of good that did,” Maz muttered under his breath as he shifted positions on the bench. If Tony were here, he’d have helped push Maz to run just a few more blocks, but that obviously didn’t happen. Maz’s own ego had gotten in the way of his own self-betterment and he felt ashamed of that. Why was he getting in his own way with all of this? Why was he throwing so many obstacles in front of himself? It was almost like he was subconsciously trying to fail. Almost like, somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind that he didn’t actually want to lose the weight and get back in shape…
Maz jumped slightly as he heard the screech of tires before him. A black Toyota Camry had come to a stop directly in front of him, one with a “Got Milk… Chocolate Ice Cream?” plastered on the edge of the back bumper: a car Maz recognized. The passenger side window rolled down, reveal the cheerful face of his brother.
“Need a lift home?” Vorax asked.
“*Huff, yeah,” Maz sighed. He grunted as he slowly got to his feet, his legs already feeling tight as he hobbled over to the car. He whipped open the door and immediately a mountain of empty bags of fast food and a half-finished bottle of Pepsi fell out and onto the sidewalk.
“Oops, sorry,” Vorax said. “It’s been a few weeks since I cleaned up in here.” The drake tossed a handful of empty chip bags and wrappers from the passenger seat into the back seat where even more food trash had accumulated. Eventually, Maz slid in and shut the door behind him. When he turned, he saw Vorax suddenly, in one swift motion, reach into a brown bag on his lap, pull out a burger, and offer it to him.
“Oh no, I probably shouldn’t,” Maz said.
“Oh come on, they’re from that new place that opened by the Taco Bell, where the old sporting goods store was. They’re so good!”
“I don’t know...” Maz said, more of a feeble attempt to convince himself more than his brother; he couldn’t deny the greasy aromas were making his mouth water and his stomach rumble.
“Come on, I got an extra one just for you,” Vorax said, placing the burger in Maz’s lap. He clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Besides, you’ve earned it.”
“Earned it?” Maz asked, picking up the burger and noting the three layers of patties and accompanying slices of melted cheese literally bursting out from between the thick potato bun.
“Yeah, of course! Running is so hard!” Vorax said.
“Yeah,” Maz admitted pensively; harder than it used to be.
“Not to mention so boring,” Vorax said as he shifted the car into gear and began to roll down the vacant street. “I couldn’t do it, that’s for sure. I’d so much rather just sit at home watching a good movie or playing an engaging video game than just running the same loop around the neighborhood over and over again, day in and day out, especially on a day like today.” Vorax motioned toward the red, orange, and yellow leaves blowing across the street in the wind. “Nope, today is definitely a curl up on the couch with a jug of hot chocolate type of day.”
“Yeah, you have a point,” Maz said, the words seeming to slip out of his mouth even before he thought of them.
“Hey, there’s supposed to be a Marvel Movie marathon on FX later this afternoon. What do you say if I just make some popcorn, some Swiss Miss, and we just veg out for the rest of the day?”
“That actually sounds pretty nice,” Maz said.
“Good, now are you going to eat that burger or not?” Vorax asked, rubbing his gut. “If not, give it here. I need to get some more grub in my tank. I’m starving!” Vorax reached across the car as if he was going to snatch it away from his younger brother. Maz pulled the morsel just out of Vorax’s reach.
“Hey hey, I’m getting to it!” Maz said oddly possessively. He opened his maw and took a large bite, letting out an involuntary moan as the grease and cheese hit his tongue; that was exactly what he needed at that moment!
“I take it that it’s good?” Vorax asked with a smirk.
“Very,” Maz replied through a full mouth. He swallowed and paused for a second, stifling a small belch before taking another bite; why did this taste so satisfying? Why did all of his fears, concerns, and stresses seem to melt away as the melted cheese graced his tongue?
“There’s nothing like a warm burger to warm you up from the inside,” Vorax chuckled. “See, isn’t that so much better than running out there in the wind and cold?” Though Maz didn’t want to admit it, he knew that Vorax was right; at that moment, he was a thousand times happier than he had been just ten minutes ago, even though he had been fantasizing about that run for months now; it just hadn’t lived up to expectations. The burger, however, was meeting if not exceeding all those expectations. The grease was so much more salient, no matter how short term that joy was than the deeper, distant satisfaction of getting back in shape; did that mean his priorities were screwed up?
Was that so bad to admit? Was it bad to admit that at that moment he was happy? Was it wrong to want to be happy? To want another burger? To want to simply curl up inside and never leave again?
Was it wrong that at that moment he had no desire to run now, tomorrow, or really ever again?
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fat Furs
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Multiple characters
Size 4500 x 3000px
I love the story and the art, I'm looking forward to the next page! (ง⌐□ل͜□)ง
He made a pumpkin pie for me. Then after I ate a slice, my belly started to bloat. Even my new clothes ripped. You have no idea how much I had to pay for them. I don't know what he put in my pumpkin pie, but I'll bet it was one of his formulas I mentioned earlier.
I’m loving how sexy he’s getting! No matter what size he’s at, he’s always still a hot cutie boi! I’m not the only one who’s getting a crush on this! 💖💖💖
At this point isn't it easier to fatten up his friend instead of getting back into shape?
*huff* It was okay. terrible... Couldn't even make it 5 minutes!
Watch maz pull a vorax on Tony and make him huge too. Unintentionally and subliminally of course
been following them for awhile. why did i not recognize them lol?
if only i could afford one of those. would be funny to see my sona as a fast-food worker since thats my actual job lol... combined with gaining and being a feeder irl. it would make too much sense to draw that kind of thing, bu im backed up creatively and time wise. might just have to squeeze it into my schedule.
thanks, serously though how much for a cameo if available?
Haha. I love the irony of the bew burger olace opening up where the old sports store used to be
Comments