Running from Corpulence: Chapter XI
It seems that the dreaded day has finally come. The house call! With an older brother in denial, and Maz unable to talk from his sheer amount of weight, what can possibly go wrong?
CHAPTER X <--- PROLOGUE ---> CHAPTER XII
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Story:
Mazaku ©, Vorax © & Artwork:
Komi ©: as Dr. Sashimi
Cameos:
Tony ©:
Trei ©:
Kygen ©:
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DISCLAIMER: Heavy health issues and some emotional speech
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APRIL (Month 11)
Dr. Sashimi paused for a moment as the whale-dragon stepped out of her car and into the afternoon sunlight. Even though it was still early spring, the fresh air ruffled her long dangling ears and the glowing rays from above warmed her scales, reminding her she needed to get outside more, not that her job allowed that much. She was nearing the end of the first year of her community medicine fellowship program at St. James Medical Center which was hectic enough and it didn’t help that several of the attending physicians had retired over the last few months leaving behind nearly half the town in need of new providers. While the St. James administration was in the middle of the frantic hiring process, for the time being, all of that patient load was thrust on everyone else. Thus, what was supposed to be a relatively low key training experience in the moderate size town had quickly turned into one of the busiest clinical experiences in Dr. Sashimi’s young professional life. Not that she was complaining; she’d always been a workaholic.
Dr. Sashimi loved what she did. She loved her job. She loved taking care of all the furries, scalies, avians, and everyone else in the community, living out that age-old caricature of being The Town Doctor as best as the modern-day would allow. Today though was bringing on those vibes as the whale dragon was out of the hospital and on the road, making a rare house call. Was it a little inconvenient to have to drive across town to visit just one patient while her overwhelming caseload continued to pile up in the St. James wards? Sure, but medicine wasn’t always about convenience. It was about helping those in need, no matter the location or circumstances. Plus, it got her outside for the first time in too long; she could almost see the glow of the sunlight off her horns.
Dr. Sashimi savored that moment in the sun for one more extended second before grabbing her clipboard and traveling bag of equipment. She made her way toward the entrance of the unassuming house, her thick whale-tail swaying behind her, carefree; she was enjoying herself. She paused at the door to quickly glance over her notes.
“A nineteen-year-old male. Species: dragon. Former patient of Dr. Bianco White. Hmmm, a nineteen-year-old who couldn’t make it into the clinic?” Dr. Sashimi muttered; that was unusual. She glanced up at the top of the sheet at the registrar’s label for the visit:
“Hmmm… mobility issues?” She mused as she ruffled through the chart. Dr. Sashimi knew she should have reviewed this before, but with that anti-vax mom that morning and that code blue that stretched right through her lunch she just hadn’t had the time.
“Hmmm, seems like…. Mazaku… broke his ankle last summer. Maybe the bone did fuse properly? Dr. White didn’t note any abnormalities when the cast was removed…” Dr. Sashimi muttered to herself. Odd.
“Whelp, let’s see what’s up with Mazaku,” the dragon sighed as she adjusted her white coat, shined her horn, brushed down her ears, and knocked on the door with three hard knocks.
~~~~~
*Gulp... Gulp… Gulp... Gulp... The sounds of the chocolatey mixture washing down Maz’s throat echoed about the room, nearly drowning out the gurgle of the melted ice cream as it whirled around a funnel and sped down a hose leading into Maz’s mouth.
“Almost done with this batch,” Vorax chortled, grunting as he tipped the remains of the large gallon container of Ben and Jerry’s into the narrow funnel. Vorax knew that he should have ordered the larger size and kicked himself for falling for the misleading product photos on the online website. He should have just skimmed the product schematics at the bottom of the listing, but it was too late now; hindsight was 20-20.
Still, since the hose had arrived last week, he had gotten the hang of delicately pouring gallons of creams, custards, and pudding down the meager funnel and into Maz’s maw.
Vorax tapped the edge of the empty container, forcing the last few lingering drops down the tube. He watched the microwaved cream slowly drain down the opaque plastic hose and into Maz’s mouth; it was quite the sight to behold. Though he could see the ice cream draining away as if he had simply poured it down the drain in the kitchen, it was hard to tell that Maz was putting in any effort at all as he drank, save for the loud, wheezing breathes he sucked in between audible gulps. The thick layers of pudge that had swallowed up Maz’s muzzle, ballooned his cheeks, and completely concealed his neck, merging his head with his torso, had all but damped the most vigorous of motions by the dragon. His chipmunk cheeks absorbed the jerking motions of his jaws while the series of thick folds of flab that cascaded over and down his chin concealed the rigorous undulating of his throat and Adam’s apple as he guzzled.
The lard also seemed to mute the dragon’s facial expressions as it had become difficult to lift his eyebrows in surprise against the thick layer of pudge covering his forehead, not to mention to raise the corners of his lips beyond that of a mere grimace thanks to the immovable wall of pudge that was his cheeks; the most he could ever manage was a set of deep dimples as his face fought with itself to smile. The hose stuffed into Maz’s maw didn’t help matters either, but Vorax assumed Maz was enjoying himself as he usually did. Besides, he loved chocolate ice cream, well, melted ice cream. He seemed to be able to handle more of it versus some of the pudding and custards Vorax used instead.
“Okay, ready for the next one?” Vorax asked.
“I feel like, *huff… my stomach is going to, *hic, burst…!” Maz grumbled. His face instinctively tried to grimace, a natural reaction to the strain he felt around his middle, but he could feel the muscles of his forehead merely contracting beneath the pudge lining his face; so much body yet so little body language to speak of.
“I didn’t hear the word full,” Vorax chuckled as he tossed the empty container onto the floor where a pile of nearly a dozen empty gallon containers of ice cream lay. Their lingering contents dripped onto the floor, adding to the variety of food stains that had begun to accumulate about the room. Vorax made a mental note to clean that up later, much like he had made a mental note to scrub out the Cheeto dust stain in the carpet and to buy some spackle to fix the ding in the wall and…
KNOCK… KNOCK… KNOCK…
Vorax froze, his heart-stopping as he glanced up at the clock on the wall.
“Four o’clock?!” He sputtered; he had lost track of time. It was time for Maz’s appointment! “Of course the doc had to show up on time for the first time in history…” Vorax muttered as he frantically scanned the room at the assorted piles of trash and laundry; not exactly presentable.
Vorax hopped down from the stool he was perched atop and scooped up the empty ice cream containers in his arms and rushed out of the room toward the kitchen. He simply tossed the containers vaguely toward the trash bin with mixed success as the already full receptacle rejecting most of them and set them sprawling across the floor with a chorus of wet slaps and plops. Vorax knew he didn’t have time to clean up the new mess he had just made as he left it behind and rushed back to the bedroom with a huff…
~~~~~
Dr. Sashimi whistled a soft tune to herself as she waited, skimming through the files again. After a minute with no sign of anyone, she raised a quizzical eyebrow. There was a car in the driveway so she assumed someone must be home. Maybe she didn’t knock loud enough. The whale-dragon raised her paw to the door and knocked three times again. She half expected to hear more silence or perhaps the sound of fast-approaching feet but instead from the depths of the house she heard a soft yet distinct thud.
“Hello? Is everything alright in there…?” Dr. Sashimi called, knocking on the door again.
~~~~~
KNOCK… KNOCK… KNOCK…
Vorax jolted at the sound of the knocks again, reminding him of the esteemed medical professional waiting just twenty feet away, separated from the chaos by only a thin plank of pressure-treated oak. In his frenzied state, he rushed back into the bedroom and quickly felt his paws slip out from beneath him, sending him sprawling to the floor with a loud thud.
Though fortunately, his soft rump took the brunt of the blow, Vorax didn’t have time to wallow in his momentary display of clumsiness as he quickly hopped up and wiped the sheen of soda stain on the floor away with his foot; some must have spilled from his last armload out of the bedroom. From the other room, he heard a muffled voice coming from the front door and another series of knocks; he didn’t have much time!
He lifted the edge of Maz’s mattress and stuffed some dirty clothes beneath it before pushing the rest into a large pile against the back corner of the room. He then glanced up at Maz and yelped as he noticed the hose and funnel were still jutting out of the dragon’s maw. He leaned against Maz’s flabby side and pulled the feeding equipment free, leaving a streak of chocolate ice cream around Maz’s lips that dribbled down the front of his chest. Vorax leaned out the bedroom door and tossed the hose into the bathtub before ripping a towel from the drying rack and rushing over to Maz. He quickly wiped brushed the towel over Maz’s torso before tossing it into the pile of clothes against the wall and rushed out the door again. He ran up to the front door and paused, collecting himself for a second. He then straightened up, put on a smile, and opened the door.
“Dr. Sashimi?” Vorax inquired, trying to hide his huffing breath as a whale-dragon in a white coat appeared before him, her arm up as if about to knock again.
“Yes, is this the residence that I can find Mazaku?” Dr. Sashimi asked.
“Yes, you’ve come to the right place!” Vorax said stepping aside and ushering the doctor in as he discretely wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. “Please come in.”
“Thank you. Is everything okay? I thought I heard some banging through the door…”
“Oh, that was uh… just clumsy ol’ me,” Vorax said. “Your knock startled me and I dropped some uh… books. Yeah, books.”
“Oh my apologies,” Dr. Sashimi said.
“Oh don’t worry about it,” Vorax said, closing the door.
“And your name is?”
“Vorax.”
“And Mazaku is your…?” Dr. Sashimi asked.
“Younger brother, yes,” Vorax said.
“And were you the one to make the appointment?”
“Yes?”
“So you told the front desk that Mazaku was having some mobility issues, can you elaborate on that?”
“Yes, well he’s sort of been bed-bound for a little while now, maybe a month or more.”
“I saw that he broke his ankle last summer, is he having trouble putting weight on the healed bone?”
“No… well, I mean yes, in a way… Yes, and no.”
“Okay…” Dr. Sashimi said; that wasn’t exactly an enlightening answer. “So,” Dr. Sashimi continued after a prolonged pause, “where is your brother?”
“Oh yes, sorry, this way,” Vorax said turning and heading down the hall. Dr. Sashimi followed closely behind though she couldn’t help but glance about the house as they wandered toward the back hallway. She could see a small pile of empty soda bottles by the edge of the couch and in the kitchen, she caught a glimpse of a mountain of trash overflowing the comparably meager trash bin; trash that mostly comprised of empty soda bottles, empty ice cream containers, and various bags of chips and candy. Dr. Sashimi didn’t want to judge, but the dragon leading her down the hall now was on the rather large side and judging by what she just saw, it might be worth her time to bang out two birds with one stone with this visit: address Mazaku’s mobility issues and having a quick talk about sustainable healthy eating habits with his older brother…
“He’s just in here,” Vorax said as he dipped into a room of the hall. Dr. Sashimi’s mind was already running through a tiered differential in her mind and was queueing up her list of pertinent questions, but all of that mental preparation dissipated instantly as she stepped into the dimly lit room and saw the figure before her if what was before her could even be classified as a “figure.”
As a clinician, Dr. Sashimi had seen her fair share of large individuals, and it was from that experience that she was even able to decipher the features of the drooping form before her in the meager lighting: a dragon. Her patient? Mazaku? That couldn’t be right, could it? She glanced down at her clipboard and saw that at his last appointment, Mazaku was just shy of 200lbs. Glancing back up, she knew there was no way that just one of his blubbery legs, or what she could discern were legs, weighed less than two hundred or three hundred pounds in it of themselves.
She could see a thick paw jutting out from circumferential layers of fat that were easily two or three times as wide as the paw was long. The apparent calf fat completely covered the dragon’s ankle as did it his knee with the aid of the upper thigh fat pressing not just down to the floor but forward from a sheer mass effect of having such a dense collection of adipose. What was supposed to be a two hinged lower appendage look like as if it had none, merely a stalk of lard that cascaded off the edge of mattress that the dragon was perched upon. It was that observation that made the whale-drake notice that there was no bed frame beneath he dragon, merely a mattress nestled on the floor.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the splintered remains of wooden planks and boards stacked together in the corner of the room, eliciting a vivid image in her mind of a day when this dragon’s bulk became far too great for the bedframe to take, an explosive event that seemed to be corroborated by the large dent in the wall nearly out of sight behind the dragon’s splaying rump.
Dr. Sashimi couldn’t imagine any commercially available bed that would have been able to support not only the drake’s thunderous thighs and rear, but the massive, billowing gut that took up the majority of the mattress. The mound of blubber left little of the white, spring-loaded material visible to the naked eye as it splayed forward, forcing the dragon’s legs to the side while it seemed to tumble over itself in a race toward the far wall; like competing layers of molten lava flow down the side of a broad volcanic mountain.
Dr. Sashimi could vaguely break down those layers into four distinct guttural parts, like layers of sediment long after the lava flows had cooled. There was the bottom bulge that almost ballooned forward as if squeezed by the lard stacked on top of it. A deep navel separated the bottom from the second layer up which itself seemed content to the be the unassuming glue that held the bottom and the upper two layers together. The upper layers almost appeared to be two sets of moobs. Harkening back to her cadaver dissections, Dr. Sashimi knew that couldn’t possibly be true, though the thought that the drake had swollen so much that not only had his true chest swollen into a pair of what was approaching couch-cushion sized moobs, that the weight of them had forced what likely would have been just a series of small folds running down the front of his torso, just little deviations in fat due straining surface tension, into a single roll of pudge that sloped down over his multi-layered gut. From a purely anatomic perspective, it was quite fascinating as was the contrast between the drake’s upper and lower arms.
Maz’s shoulders bulged wider than the width of his bulbous head and they likely would have drooped down over his elbow like a chunk of molten nacho cheese bubbling over the edge of a chip, but his arms were held nearly parallel to the ground, held up by the sheer bulk of his bulging sides and love handles. Still, Dr. Sashimi could see the adipose splaying out in all directions as if each underlying layer was trying to break free and some pockets were seemingly winning over others, giving the drake’s upper arm an asymmetric, distorted appearance as a series of dimples and outpouchings of fat lined the appendage right down to his thick forearms and doughy, seemingly plump paws.
Dr. Sashimi noticed the enormous tail jutting out of Maz’s backside, easily the width of the oil drums she often saw as stock footage on the business channel that was always playing in the administrator suite back at the hospital. Though the appendage was often used for stability and a key element in the expression of emotion in dragons, Maz’s tail was motionless, made seemingly useless by the endless layers of lard caking it’s feeble, and likely one time dexterous, underlying musculature.
Then there was the drake’s head. Dr. Sashimi could make out a muzzle, a set of cheeks, a nose, and a set of eyes, but they all seemed squished together, the fat caking his head seemingly trying to overtake and smooth over any personifying feature that made the drake who he was. In all of her career, Dr. Sashimi had never encountered a dragon, let a lot anyone, as objectively obese as the drake before her. Though internally she was still shocked, she knew she needed to stay professional. She cleared her throat and glanced down at her files again, not necessarily to glean them one more time, but as a ruse to allow her to collect her thoughts.
“M… Mazaku?” Dr. Sashimi eventually stuttered as she stepped further into the room. She cleared her throat.
“*Huff, yeah… *gasp, that’s me,” the figure huffed. As Sashimi drew closer to the drake, his sheer bulk became more and more apparent as the drake seemingly loomed over her. She suddenly became aware of the drake’s deep, labored breathing and the soft grunt that accompanied every exhale.
“Well, I think I’m started to understand how a young drake like yourself could be having some mobility issues,” Dr. Sashimi said, trying to use as nonjudgmental language as she could. “It’s a little dark in here, let’s get some light so we can get a better look at you.” Dr. Sashimi walked over to the window on the far side of the room, noting the large piles of clothes piled along the wall, clothes that were either torn or seemed stained with sweat or grease; she couldn’t tell for sure. The whale-drake grabbed the cord dangling against the wall and pulled it down with two swift jerks, filling the light with an intense burst of sunlight from outside.
“Hmgmmg…” Maz groaned as Dr. Sashimi turned around. While the room was magnitudes brighter now, she could see Maz squinting his eyes and trying to turn his head away from the light, to little avail. Dr. Sashimi wondered for a brief moment just how long those blinds had been down for, shutting out the outside world as the drake before her simply grew and grew and grew. She didn’t have much time to consider the matter as now in the new light, she could see, even from a distance, that the drake’s scales were covered in stretched marks, particularly around his belly, and cellulite, especially around his elbows and edges of his thighs. She could see a thin sheen off his scales, realizing it was a thin layer of sweat accumulating around the creases and folds lining his sides as well as a deeper sheen around his face and upper chest. The latter resembled a sheen that Dr. Sashimi had only seen along the counters beside the deep fryer at the burger joint she worked weekends in while in high school: the sheen of grease. The observation was yet another clue fitting into a growing narrative as to the reasons for this drake’s mobility issues, but Dr. Sashimi needed concrete information: she had questions and hopefully Maz, and his oddly eager looking brother, had answers.
“So, Mazaku…” Dr. Sashimi started.
“You, *huff, can call me, *wheeze, Maz,” Maz blubbered, his voice strained and quiet like it was taking all his effort just to move his vocal cords from the crushing bulk of his neck flab.
“Okay, Maz, can you tell me what’s going on?”
“I… *gasp, can’t stand up… *huff, anymore.”
“I see, how long has it been since you were able to stand?”
“It’s been... *gasp… it’s… *huff… huff… It’s been a… *wheeze…” Dr. Sashimi could hear that Maz was struggling as his breath grew heavier and raspier. It was as if he were trying to answer questions after sprinting a half-mile, save for the fact just the act of speaking was exercise enough to get him to that point; that was concerning.
“It’s been about a month, maybe a month and a half,” Vorax said, jumping in.
“So this didn’t start with his cast coming off last fall?” Dr. Sashimi clarified.
“No no, this is a recent issue and we were wondering if there were any sort of medical prosthetics that he could use to help him…”
“Whoa whoa, before we starting talking about stuff like that I need to have a better sense of what happened since his last doctor’s visit when his cast came off leading up to now.” Dr. Sashimi turned back toward Maz. “So let’s start from the beginning, and take your time. What happened after you got your cast off?”
“Well,” Vorax said, jumping in before Maz could open his maw. “Nothing crazy serious has happened since he broke his ankle. Like he was able to walk on it no problem, oh, and run!” Vorax pointed toward the framed photograph on the wall. Dr. Sashimi looked and saw a trio of young furs and scalies standing in track uniforms holding up what looked like some sort of medal. In the center of the trio was a small drake that looked oddly both familiar and unfamiliar: Maz. Dr. Sashimi was sort of shocked to see just how small the drake had been at seemingly one point in time.
“When was that picture taken?”
“Last… uh, spring I think,” Vorax said.
“Last spring?!” Dr. Sashimi exclaimed. How was that possible? The drake in the picture couldn’t have been more than a 120-130 pounds soaking wet let alone the behemoth before her; let alone the 194 lbs listed in her file. “So,” Dr. Sashimi said, collecting herself again. “Maz must have broken his ankle just after this picture was taken?”
“Yeah…” Maz blubbered, his voice low and slow, accompanied by a few gurgles that rumbled out from his belly.
“Yeah, it was a few weeks after I think.” Vorax confirmed.
“Then he had that cast on for about six weeks or two months or so was it?” Dr. Sashimi said.
“Yeah, you should have seen him!” Vorax joked. “He was used to running all the time so he was getting cabin fever really hard, being stuck inside all summer with me.”
Stuck inside with him…? Dr. Sashimi pondered. Based on that story, it seemed like Maz might have put on nearly seventy pounds over that short summer. It was understandable that people put on a little weight when immobilized for so long, but seventy pounds was a lot. Dr. Sashimi didn’t think she could put on that much weight in eight weeks if she tried…. If I tried…
“Hmmm,” Dr. Sashimi mused to herself before turning her attention back to Maz. “So were you going on runs and exercising a lot once you got your cast off?”
“A… a little,” Maz said. Though it was tough to discern with the fat of his cheeks and muzzle squishing his face, Dr. Sashimi thought she caught a hint of shame on Maz’s face; what was he ashamed of?
“Yeah, he exercised a little,” Vorax chimed in. “Well, once at least. He went for a run up to the park up the street. Funny story, I saw him when I was driving home that day. He was just sitting on the bench huffing and sweating. He looked beat. Probably a good workout right?”
“Well, that doesn’t sound like he ran very far,” Dr. Sashimi noted.
“Seems fair to me, ha!” Vorax joked but Dr. Sashimi’s face remained serious.
“It shouldn’t have been for Maz, he was a runner, after all, an awarding winning one at that. Even though sitting around for two months while he recovered would have led to some moderate reductions in cardiovascular capabilities, it shouldn’t have completely obliterated his stamina. Had Maz put on some weight over the summer?” Dr. Sashimi knew the answer already, but it was more the response from Vorax that she was looking to observe.
“Well, my bro might have put on a few extra pounds over the summer, but not that much.”
“According to these charts, it seems like he put on nearly seventy pounds.”
“See, not too much,” Vorax reaffirmed.
“Were you not concerned about your brother’s weight?”
“I mean I guess I noticed,” Vorax said with a hint of nervousness in his tone, “but he had been on the scrawny side for a while so I thought some extra meat on his bones sort of speak would be good for him, and it was!”
“I see,” Dr. Sashimi said. “So, Maz, even though you might not have been running as well as you had before, were you still trying to incorporate his runs into his weekly routine?” Maz nodded.
“Well, uh, no. I don’t think he ran all that much.” Vorax interjected.
“I did, *grunt, at first. It was hard though…” Maz wheezed.
“Running is always hard work! Too much work if you ask me,” Vorax said, cutting Maz off?
“Why was that?” Dr. Sashimi said to Maz, trying to ignore his brother for the moment. She saw Maz shift his gaze away another sign of embarrassment; she was onto something. “Were you feeling frustrated about your fitness level coming out of your cast?” Maz slowly turned his gaze and seemed like he was about to open his maw, but Vorax stepped in between the two.
“I don’t think he was mad at himself or anything,” Vorax said. “I think he just got comfortable, you know? He was probably still burned out from that crazy regimen his coaches had him doing all year round for the last four years. I know I would. Why risk running himself ragged, pun intended, and maybe breaking his ankle again when he wasn’t even on the team anymore and when he could just curl up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and watch a movie with his older bro?”
“So what you’re saying is that Maz used to be an avid runner, then after his accident, he completely lost his love for the sport and has participated in little physical activity since?” Dr. Sashimi glanced briefly up at Maz, trying read his face; he wasn’t nodding in approval at her comment, but his brother was. She was starting to sense a pattern.
“Changing gears only slightly,” Dr. Sashimi said, “I want to talk about your diet. While physical exercise is a vital part of maintaining a healthy active lifestyle, one’s diet is far more important in terms of maintaining one’s weight and state of wellbeing. Has your diet changed since last fall or since you broke his ankle?” Maz nodded his head and appeared to open his mouth to speak but a subtle wet belched erupted out instead, prompting the drake to shut his mouth and turn away again. Dr. Sashimi noted that he drake seemed uncomfortable as if he had lost control over his own body’s motions and functions. She figured it must be tough after having the most minute control over every aspect of his being as a runner. She figured the drake must miss those times…
“I guess maybe a little,” Vorax said, jolting Dr. Sashimi back to reality, “but he’s still eating all the same foods he used to eat?”
“What did he usually eat before his accident?”
“Well, he ate a lot of those protein shakes and, oh, a lot of those salads with nuts and fruit in them.”
“Does he eat those now?”
“Well, no I guess, not for a while,” Vorax admitted. “But he’s always loved my meatloaf and lasagna. I used to have to pull him from the dinner table when we were younger and now he still can’t get enough of them!”
“I see, when was the last time you made your meatloaf?”
“Just the other day actually, I still have some leftovers if you want some and…”
“That won’t be necessary,” Dr. Sashimi assured. “How much did Maz eat that meal?”
“Well, I say maybe two or three helpings, not too many.”
“How big is a helping, here?”
“Maybe yeah big,” Vorax said holding up his hands to mime the size of a plate, or at least what Dr. Sashimi assumed was supposed to be a plate because the dimensions of the negative spaced shaped by the drake’s hands was more akin to that of an extra-large cookie baking sheet.
“That seems like a lot of food,” Dr. Sashimi commented.
“Nah, Maz can handle it, that was just appetizer,” Vorax replied, his tone oddly prideful. Dr. Sashimi grunted involuntarily in surprise; appetizer?! From what Vorax was describing, Maz seemingly had down twelve plus pounds of meatloaf just as a starter! For a brief moment, Dr. Sashimi tried to calculate the number of calories that must have represented but quickly the digits grew beyond what her increasingly concerned mind could handle in the brief moment.
“Has Maz always been a big eater?” Dr. Sashimi said.
“More so recently,” Vorax said.
“Since, say, last year?”
“Yeah.”
“Right around the same time you said he was ‘stuck inside with you’ last summer?” Dr. Sashimi said as she dug for more answers.
“Uh well, yeah, I guess you could put it like that.”
“Where he was likely reliant on you to bring him food?
“Yeah…”
“Did you bring him his usual protein shakes and salads?”
“Well, no, not all the time,” Vorax admitted as he attempted to casually wipe a nervous bead of sweat from his brow. “Maybe sometimes I brought him fast food if I was stopping at a taco stand or something.”
“Would you say that your eating habits rubbed off on your brother then?”
“I guess so,” Vorax said. “But what’s wrong with sharing a pizza or two with your brother now and again?”
“Nothing is wrong with fast food on occasion, but when those meals go from being treats to every day or every meal occurrences, that’s when we run into issues of excess.”
“Nutrient excess isn’t a bad thing. He was definitely getting enough protein from the meatloaf and burgers and burritos and everything else to help him build up his leg muscles again!”
“Too much,” Dr. Sashimi said bluntly. “The body only needs the recommended daily amount of protein to maintain body tissues and functions, perhaps a bit more if someone is working out more than the typical person which Maz at the time was not. All that extra protein is conserved by the body not as protein but as fat just like excess carbohydrates and lipids, the latter two of which are vastly more represented in the fast-food it appears that you and your brother were eating in excess. Excess calories and little physical activity seem to define Maz’s lifestyle changes over the last year and likely underpin why he is dangerously overweight today.”
“What do you mean by ‘dangerous overweight,’ doc?”
“All this excess weight can lead to a myriad of bodily damages, and I’m going to figure out the extent of that adipose assault now.” Dr. Sashimi turned toward Maz again and pumping some disinfect on her paws from a small bottle nestled in her white coat. “I’m going to examine you now. Let me know you feel any pain or tenderness, nor if we need to take a break at any point, okay?” Maz nodded his head as best as he could. Maz let out a low nervous grumble as Dr. Sashimi walked around the edge of the bed, pulling out her stethoscope from her white coat pocket.
“I’m just going to start by listening to your heart and lungs. Now just take some nice deep breaths,” Dr. Sashimi aid as she popped the earbuds in her ears and attempted to lean over his bulging thigh and his cascading sides towards his chest; it was a tough reach. Maz felt the doc lean against his pudge, the fat molding around her elbows and the length of our outstretched arm as she just barely managed to place the bell of the stethoscope onto his chest. It was cool to the touch, much to Maz’s sweltering delight as he felt a streak of perspiration on his forehead. As instructed, he tried taking in as deep of breathes as he could, not an easy feat as he felt the weight of his chest pressing down on him; it didn’t help with the added pressure from the doc’s leaning frame. After just a few seconds, as Dr. Sashimi moved the stethoscope across the large expanse of his moob, that he began to feel a burning from deep within his lungs. Maz felt himself starting to get out of breath as he struggled to keep up momentum; still, he tried his best.
“Okay you can breathe normally now,” Dr. Sashimi said, straightening herself back up and giving Maz’s side a supportive pat; Maz had a hunch she must have heard the increasingly raspy, wheezing nature of his breath; how could she have not? The drake felt his cheeks growing hot as he noticed the doc taking notes; not just a few notes, but many. That likely wasn’t a good sign, or was it?
“No rales or crackles… no murmurs, rubs, or gallops… distant heart and lungs sounds… point of maximal impulse felt below the sixth intercostal space…” Dr. Sashimi muttered under her breath.
“Point of maximal impulse?” Maz asked with a nervous chuckle. “That’s good right?”
“Well, yes and no. It’s normal to feel a little pulse in your chest from your heartbeat, but when your heart gets big…”
“See, I always told you you had a big heart,” Vorax said cheerfully.
“It shouldn’t be that low on the chest though.” Dr. Sashimi continued. “It’s a sign your heart is getting to big, like a growing muscle as it tries to pump the blood throughout your body, but it can only do so much and eventually that growth can disrupt the normal beating of your heart and… well, let’s check your pulses.” Dr. Sashimi said, changing the subject.
Something wrong with my heart…!? Maz thought to himself. He had had a sneaking suspicion after those occasional strange flutters and palpitations but in his head, he had chalked those up to just anxiety, nerves, or a pulled chest muscle. Not his heart. Not… his… heart…
“I’ll start with your carotid artery in your neck. You can just breathe normally.” Dr. Sashimi leaned against Maz’s side again and pressed two of her fingers into the side of his neck. Instead of compressing the flesh ever so slightly, her fingers continued to sink deeper and deeper into the ring of fat that encircled Maz’s head. Maz could feel her sliding her fingers around, trying to find his pulse like it was buried treasure.
“Could you turn your head to the side for me?”
Maz tried to do as he was instructed, but the flab from his neck limited his movements. Still, he was able to stretch the fat just enough to allow Dr. Sashimi to scoop her fingers and half of her paw, beneath a fat fold. “Oh! Just got it!” Dr. Sashimi paused, her gaze blank as she concentrated on the task at hand. “Okay, let’s try the other one.” The whale-drake sauntered around the bed while Maz turned his head the other direction in preparation for what was to come. It took the doc nearly half a minute to find his pulse again, which Maz knew shouldn’t be the case, but deep down he was glad that it was still possible to feel his arteries from beneath all that pudge.
Dr. Sashimi then moved to check the pulses in his wrists, using one of her paws to pull back the drooping fat while pressing firmly with her other paw. She then moved to his knees, laying down along the edge of the mattress and pressuring her hand up into the crevice where the back of his knee should have been like she was a world-class powerlifter. Finally, she made her way to his ankles, pressing her maws along the inside of his ankle. By the time she was done, she looked like she was starting to work up and sweat and was breathing deeply as she went back to her notes.
“Normal rhythm, tachycardia, *huff… +3 bilateral carotid pulses, +2 left ulnar and radial pulses, +1 right ulnar and radial pulses, +1 bilateral posterior tibial pulses… Capillary refill slow in both upper and lower extremities…” Dr. Sashimi muttered. Maz wanted to ask the whale-drake what all those numbers and terms meant, but he stopped himself. The heart exam had spooked him; he didn’t want to be spooked again.
“Okay, I think we’re going to skip testing your reflexes because…” Dr. Sashimi just glanced down where Maz’s knees should have been. “So, I want to just do a quick check of your scales to make sure everything is nice and healthy.”
Maz watched as Dr. Sashimi walked up beside him and leaned in close to his arm, her eyes glued to his bloated scales as she scanned along the folds and creases. She used her paw to lift some pockets and flabs of fat to see underneath.
“Some irritation there…” Dr. Sashimi muttered. She was meticulous with her assessment, occasionally pulling out a reflex hammer from her white coat and using it to help hold apart pockets of pudge. She also tapped lightly with both the broad butt and the pointier handle against various spots along his upper extremities, asking him if he felt her pocking and prodding. Though he usually nodded yes, there were a few times near the end of his forearm that it took a few pokes for the sensation to register.
“He’s always had thick scales,” Vorax chimed.
“Scale thickness has nothing to do with this,” Dr. Sashimi replied bluntly, eliciting a nervous gulp from Maz: what was wrong with him?! He couldn’t even feel a rubber hammer on his arm properly?! This was all too much… there was just too much… too much fat…
He saw the whale-drake pause a few times as she examined congregations of cellulite along the backside of his forearms and took note of a few particularly large stretch marks along the back of his upper arm.
“Okay, Maz, can you lift your arm for me?” Dr. Sashimi asked. “I saw a few sores along the underside of your forearm and I want to make sure there isn’t any irritation from your arm against your sides up in your armpit.” Maz grunted as he attempted to lift his arm. He managed to raise his forearm, but as he lifted higher, what became evident was that he was only moving his arm through the pool of pudge surrounding it. The thick layers of lard simply wobbled and sagged a bit further before Maz hit a wall. His arms burned as he tried to physically lift his bingo wings but they wouldn’t budge; deep down he knew this was going to happen. This wasn’t the first day he had hit this wall. After a few seconds, Dr. Sashimi noticed Maz struggling and motioned for Vorax to come over.
“Can you help lift his arm for me?” Dr. Sashimi asked.
“Sure thing!” Vorax said as he wrapped his arms around Maz’s doughy bicep and huffed as he hoisted it up. The fat sloshed back up and over Maz’s broad shoulders and smooshed slight up against the side of his face, eliciting a grunt from the drake. Dr. Sashimi worked quickly as she eyed the various folds and crevices that lay buried away from the sunlight for who knew how long.
“Oh, just as I feared,” Dr. Sashimi said.
“What?” Maz blubbered, straining his neck to try and see beneath the canopy of pudge that was his shoulder.
“There’s no sores, but there is some scale darkening, acanthosis nigrans.”
“W… *grunt… What’s, *wheeze, what’s that?” Maz asked.
“It’s scale change that is associated with a number of things, but typically we see it in obese individuals, in particular obese individuals who are starting to develop insulin resistance.” Dr. Sashimi said.
“Like, diabe…” Maz started the color draining from his face.
“It’s not a very specific indicator, and I’d want to run some lab tests before I made any definitive conclusions as to what it might represent.” Dr. Sashimi said. “Now let’s do the other arm.”
“And up we go big guy,” Vorax chortled as he rushed around the mattress and hoisted up Maz’s other arm; Dr. Sashimi tried to suppress an annoyed grimace. There was some about the drake’s upbeat, almost gleeful tone that Dr. Sashimi didn’t take too kindly too. Was it lost on him that his brother was so large that he couldn’t lift his own arm? Where was Vorax’s sense of urgency? Did he not care? It was almost like this is what Vorax wanted for his brother or at least encouraged; that’s what all of her observational evidence was pointing to.
“Okay, now the legs,” Dr. Sashimi said as she knelt on the ground and had Vorax deadlift the edges of Maz’s legs, though the action resulted merely in twisted Maz’s leg to the side, like rolling a massive fallen log in the woods to see the grub scurrying underneath.
“Man, shouldn’t have gotten such a cheap mattress,” Vorax mused as he noted the deep indentations in the mattress that outlined perfectly Maz’s massive haunches.
That’s his takeaway from this?! Dr. Sashimi thought to herself. Dr. Sashimi understood the idea of not wanting to adhere to typical societal norms of body size and physique, and had even heard of people she was pretty sure were called gainers who liked to bulk up or whatever they called it when she was on her bariatric rotation back in medical school, but there were limits on everything.
“Okay, let’s try as best we can to lift the bottom of Maz’s stomach,” Dr. Sashimi said. She and Vorax positioned themselves on opposite sides of the billowing mass of lard and hoisted the massive folds up as much as their comparably feeble arms could allow. Dr. Sashimi tried to adjust her arms to prevent the fat from sloshing inward toward the middle, forming a large W in the center of the mattress. She craned her neck to peer underneath into the dark, damp abyss formed from the stomach-mattress bilayer.
“Hope there aren’t any errant slim jims down there,” Vorax joked; Dr. Sashimi wasn’t laughing. From what she was gathering she it appeared that Vorax didn’t understand those limits or the consequences of those limits. He was just making light of this very serious situation. He seemed oblivious to his brother’s obvious struggles with simple matters like just lifting his arms or even speaking.
“Okay, I think I’ve seen what I need to,” Dr. Sashimi said as she gently placed the fat folds in her arm back down onto the mattress meanwhile Vorax simply let the flab drop to the floor, sending a series of cascading ripples up the front of Maz’s torso and out along his soft extremities.
“That was unnecessary,” Dr. Sashimi muttered under her breath.
“What was that?” Vorax asked.
“Oh, I just what to opened up to hear what sort of difficulties that you, Maz,” Dr. Sashimi said, looking at Maz again, “are having.”
“Well,” Vorax said, jumping in yet again with an upbeat tone. “For the most part he’s just peachy, but sometimes he says that he has some pain in his joints, like at his hips and knees.” Dr. Sashimi furiously began to jot down notes as Vorax continued in an oddly nonchalant manner. “He sometimes gets this tingling in his toes, like they’ve fallen asleep but for like twenty minutes. Sometimes he says his chest feels weird like it’s fluttering. He doesn’t sleep super well and is always kind of tired and he gets acid reflux pretty bad sometimes.”
“What do you mean by bad?”
“Like sometimes TUMS doesn’t seem to help after a big meal or something, but usually it’s not that bad.”
“That is bad,” Dr. Sashimi said firmly. “All of this bad!”
“Hmmm?” Vorax grunted in an odd mix of surprise and confusion.
“Based on what you and Maz himself has told me and our brief examination, I can say with absolute certainty and seriousness that I am very concerned about Maz’s health! He is grossly overweight and it’s having a negative impact on his body.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Vorax dismissed.
“This shouldn’t be brushed off. Maz is showing early signs of peripheral vascular disease, particularly in his lower legs, signs of neurologic disease with decreased sensation in his extremities. He has sores and abscess across his body that need to be better tended to. His heart is struggling to keep up and he appears to be experiencing signs of angina which is not good. He doesn’t appear to be ventilating properly, likely from all that weight crushing his lungs and though I can’t say for sure now without the proper tests, he is showing signs of sleep apnea and possibly obesity hypoventilation syndrome, both of which further increase his risk for cardiovascular disease. On top of all of that, his persistent acid reflux can lead to cancer. Cancer!” Dr. Sashimi took a deep breath. “This shouldn’t be news for either of you but if Maz continues in this state, he’ll be set up for more serious complications in the future, possibly near future. I’m sorry for being blunt but I need to make sure that both you and Maz understand.” Vorax went to speak but Dr. Sashimi held up her hand, cutting him off.
“I’m not finished.” Dr. Sashimi continued. “You need to understand that this is serious and from what I can tell you have been enabling if not outright imputing this all on your brother. It’s clear that he cannot feed himself anymore which means his weight is only going up because of all the food that you are bringing to him.”
“Sure, I’ve started feeding Maz myself lately, but what am I supposed to do?” Vorax said, his eyebrows narrowing. “Let my brother starve because he can’t feed himself?”
“No, I’m saying there’s a reason he’s gotten to this state and I’m imploring you to reconsider your roll in the state of your brother’s health and work with him to make a change.” Right at the moment, Maz’s stomach rumbled loudly, filling the room with an echous gurgling noise that was followed by a prolonged, tense silence. After a few seconds. Dr. Sashimi pulled out a blank sheet of paper from her notepad and began to furiously scribble.
“I’m writing down some recommendations for some diet and exercise that you both can start to implement to help change course. There are some upper body exercises that Maz can do and some food substitutions to help cut back on the calories, fats, and sugars that he is consuming. It may not seem very sophisticated, but every little bit counts even at his size.” Dr. Sashimi tore the paper from her notebook and handed it to Vorax who skimmed the page.
“But Maz doesn’t like vegetables or asparagus or things,” Vorax said bluntly.
“I thought you said he used to eat salads all the time?”
“Well, uh,” Vorax sputtered. “I mean he doesn’t like these vegetables.”
“Well, it’s what he needs.”
“What if he doesn’t eat it?”
“You’ve got to strongly encourage him to eat it.”
“You want me to force spinach down his throat?”
“You seem to have done a good job dumping gallons of ice cream down his throat, so a few plates of spinach shouldn’t be too hard.”
“You’re asking me to force my brother to eat food he doesn’t want. That’s not right!” Vorax said, his tone growing more exasperated.
“It’s what’s necessary at this time.” Dr. Sashimi said, her tone still firm.
“Well, what if I don’t want to force my own brother to eat something he doesn’t want?”
“THIS ISN’T ABOUT YOU!” Dr. Sashimi shouted. “You’ve been speaking for your brother this entire time. Have you asked him what he wants?” Dr. Sashimi turned toward Maz again who seemed like he was moments away from bursting into tears. “I know you’ve been having a hard time speaking up and breathing to answer my questions, but that’s part of the problem. You are not well and you are barreling down a path of disease and trauma that could end in the most final of ways. Now I’m going to head back to the clinic and fill out some prescriptions and have them sent over here immediately…” Dr. Sashimi started gathering up her equipment and papers and began to move toward the door.
“Hey, you can’t just scare him like that!” Vorax shouted.
“It’s what he needs to hear,” Dr. Sashimi said as she stepped out of the bedroom and made her way toward the front door. She heard pounding feet behind her and with surprising speed, Vorax rushed around her and stepped in front of the door just before she reached for the knob.
“So what, losing weight is his only option?!?” Vorax, angry. “That’s it?!”
“YES! The weight is the problem! Maz is at a tipping point and if he doesn’t take it seriously and YOU don’t take it seriously and he doesn’t start being proactive about changing his habits and losing weight, he is as good as dead!” Dr. Sashimi stepped around Vorax opened the door and slammed it behind her in Vorax’s face.
A wave of eerie silence washed over the room, save for the subtle, yet distinct sound of Maz wheezing from the bedroom…
CHAPTER X <--- PROLOGUE ---> CHAPTER XII
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Story:
Mazaku ©, Vorax © & Artwork:
Komi ©: as Dr. Sashimi
Cameos:
Tony ©:
Trei ©:
Kygen ©:
---
DISCLAIMER: Heavy health issues and some emotional speech
---
APRIL (Month 11)
Dr. Sashimi paused for a moment as the whale-dragon stepped out of her car and into the afternoon sunlight. Even though it was still early spring, the fresh air ruffled her long dangling ears and the glowing rays from above warmed her scales, reminding her she needed to get outside more, not that her job allowed that much. She was nearing the end of the first year of her community medicine fellowship program at St. James Medical Center which was hectic enough and it didn’t help that several of the attending physicians had retired over the last few months leaving behind nearly half the town in need of new providers. While the St. James administration was in the middle of the frantic hiring process, for the time being, all of that patient load was thrust on everyone else. Thus, what was supposed to be a relatively low key training experience in the moderate size town had quickly turned into one of the busiest clinical experiences in Dr. Sashimi’s young professional life. Not that she was complaining; she’d always been a workaholic.
Dr. Sashimi loved what she did. She loved her job. She loved taking care of all the furries, scalies, avians, and everyone else in the community, living out that age-old caricature of being The Town Doctor as best as the modern-day would allow. Today though was bringing on those vibes as the whale dragon was out of the hospital and on the road, making a rare house call. Was it a little inconvenient to have to drive across town to visit just one patient while her overwhelming caseload continued to pile up in the St. James wards? Sure, but medicine wasn’t always about convenience. It was about helping those in need, no matter the location or circumstances. Plus, it got her outside for the first time in too long; she could almost see the glow of the sunlight off her horns.
Dr. Sashimi savored that moment in the sun for one more extended second before grabbing her clipboard and traveling bag of equipment. She made her way toward the entrance of the unassuming house, her thick whale-tail swaying behind her, carefree; she was enjoying herself. She paused at the door to quickly glance over her notes.
“A nineteen-year-old male. Species: dragon. Former patient of Dr. Bianco White. Hmmm, a nineteen-year-old who couldn’t make it into the clinic?” Dr. Sashimi muttered; that was unusual. She glanced up at the top of the sheet at the registrar’s label for the visit:
Outpatient: Housecall. CC: Mobility Issues
“Hmmm… mobility issues?” She mused as she ruffled through the chart. Dr. Sashimi knew she should have reviewed this before, but with that anti-vax mom that morning and that code blue that stretched right through her lunch she just hadn’t had the time.
“Hmmm, seems like…. Mazaku… broke his ankle last summer. Maybe the bone did fuse properly? Dr. White didn’t note any abnormalities when the cast was removed…” Dr. Sashimi muttered to herself. Odd.
“Whelp, let’s see what’s up with Mazaku,” the dragon sighed as she adjusted her white coat, shined her horn, brushed down her ears, and knocked on the door with three hard knocks.
~~~~~
*Gulp... Gulp… Gulp... Gulp... The sounds of the chocolatey mixture washing down Maz’s throat echoed about the room, nearly drowning out the gurgle of the melted ice cream as it whirled around a funnel and sped down a hose leading into Maz’s mouth.
“Almost done with this batch,” Vorax chortled, grunting as he tipped the remains of the large gallon container of Ben and Jerry’s into the narrow funnel. Vorax knew that he should have ordered the larger size and kicked himself for falling for the misleading product photos on the online website. He should have just skimmed the product schematics at the bottom of the listing, but it was too late now; hindsight was 20-20.
Still, since the hose had arrived last week, he had gotten the hang of delicately pouring gallons of creams, custards, and pudding down the meager funnel and into Maz’s maw.
Vorax tapped the edge of the empty container, forcing the last few lingering drops down the tube. He watched the microwaved cream slowly drain down the opaque plastic hose and into Maz’s mouth; it was quite the sight to behold. Though he could see the ice cream draining away as if he had simply poured it down the drain in the kitchen, it was hard to tell that Maz was putting in any effort at all as he drank, save for the loud, wheezing breathes he sucked in between audible gulps. The thick layers of pudge that had swallowed up Maz’s muzzle, ballooned his cheeks, and completely concealed his neck, merging his head with his torso, had all but damped the most vigorous of motions by the dragon. His chipmunk cheeks absorbed the jerking motions of his jaws while the series of thick folds of flab that cascaded over and down his chin concealed the rigorous undulating of his throat and Adam’s apple as he guzzled.
The lard also seemed to mute the dragon’s facial expressions as it had become difficult to lift his eyebrows in surprise against the thick layer of pudge covering his forehead, not to mention to raise the corners of his lips beyond that of a mere grimace thanks to the immovable wall of pudge that was his cheeks; the most he could ever manage was a set of deep dimples as his face fought with itself to smile. The hose stuffed into Maz’s maw didn’t help matters either, but Vorax assumed Maz was enjoying himself as he usually did. Besides, he loved chocolate ice cream, well, melted ice cream. He seemed to be able to handle more of it versus some of the pudding and custards Vorax used instead.
“Okay, ready for the next one?” Vorax asked.
“I feel like, *huff… my stomach is going to, *hic, burst…!” Maz grumbled. His face instinctively tried to grimace, a natural reaction to the strain he felt around his middle, but he could feel the muscles of his forehead merely contracting beneath the pudge lining his face; so much body yet so little body language to speak of.
“I didn’t hear the word full,” Vorax chuckled as he tossed the empty container onto the floor where a pile of nearly a dozen empty gallon containers of ice cream lay. Their lingering contents dripped onto the floor, adding to the variety of food stains that had begun to accumulate about the room. Vorax made a mental note to clean that up later, much like he had made a mental note to scrub out the Cheeto dust stain in the carpet and to buy some spackle to fix the ding in the wall and…
KNOCK… KNOCK… KNOCK…
Vorax froze, his heart-stopping as he glanced up at the clock on the wall.
“Four o’clock?!” He sputtered; he had lost track of time. It was time for Maz’s appointment! “Of course the doc had to show up on time for the first time in history…” Vorax muttered as he frantically scanned the room at the assorted piles of trash and laundry; not exactly presentable.
Vorax hopped down from the stool he was perched atop and scooped up the empty ice cream containers in his arms and rushed out of the room toward the kitchen. He simply tossed the containers vaguely toward the trash bin with mixed success as the already full receptacle rejecting most of them and set them sprawling across the floor with a chorus of wet slaps and plops. Vorax knew he didn’t have time to clean up the new mess he had just made as he left it behind and rushed back to the bedroom with a huff…
~~~~~
Dr. Sashimi whistled a soft tune to herself as she waited, skimming through the files again. After a minute with no sign of anyone, she raised a quizzical eyebrow. There was a car in the driveway so she assumed someone must be home. Maybe she didn’t knock loud enough. The whale-dragon raised her paw to the door and knocked three times again. She half expected to hear more silence or perhaps the sound of fast-approaching feet but instead from the depths of the house she heard a soft yet distinct thud.
“Hello? Is everything alright in there…?” Dr. Sashimi called, knocking on the door again.
~~~~~
KNOCK… KNOCK… KNOCK…
Vorax jolted at the sound of the knocks again, reminding him of the esteemed medical professional waiting just twenty feet away, separated from the chaos by only a thin plank of pressure-treated oak. In his frenzied state, he rushed back into the bedroom and quickly felt his paws slip out from beneath him, sending him sprawling to the floor with a loud thud.
Though fortunately, his soft rump took the brunt of the blow, Vorax didn’t have time to wallow in his momentary display of clumsiness as he quickly hopped up and wiped the sheen of soda stain on the floor away with his foot; some must have spilled from his last armload out of the bedroom. From the other room, he heard a muffled voice coming from the front door and another series of knocks; he didn’t have much time!
He lifted the edge of Maz’s mattress and stuffed some dirty clothes beneath it before pushing the rest into a large pile against the back corner of the room. He then glanced up at Maz and yelped as he noticed the hose and funnel were still jutting out of the dragon’s maw. He leaned against Maz’s flabby side and pulled the feeding equipment free, leaving a streak of chocolate ice cream around Maz’s lips that dribbled down the front of his chest. Vorax leaned out the bedroom door and tossed the hose into the bathtub before ripping a towel from the drying rack and rushing over to Maz. He quickly wiped brushed the towel over Maz’s torso before tossing it into the pile of clothes against the wall and rushed out the door again. He ran up to the front door and paused, collecting himself for a second. He then straightened up, put on a smile, and opened the door.
“Dr. Sashimi?” Vorax inquired, trying to hide his huffing breath as a whale-dragon in a white coat appeared before him, her arm up as if about to knock again.
“Yes, is this the residence that I can find Mazaku?” Dr. Sashimi asked.
“Yes, you’ve come to the right place!” Vorax said stepping aside and ushering the doctor in as he discretely wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. “Please come in.”
“Thank you. Is everything okay? I thought I heard some banging through the door…”
“Oh, that was uh… just clumsy ol’ me,” Vorax said. “Your knock startled me and I dropped some uh… books. Yeah, books.”
“Oh my apologies,” Dr. Sashimi said.
“Oh don’t worry about it,” Vorax said, closing the door.
“And your name is?”
“Vorax.”
“And Mazaku is your…?” Dr. Sashimi asked.
“Younger brother, yes,” Vorax said.
“And were you the one to make the appointment?”
“Yes?”
“So you told the front desk that Mazaku was having some mobility issues, can you elaborate on that?”
“Yes, well he’s sort of been bed-bound for a little while now, maybe a month or more.”
“I saw that he broke his ankle last summer, is he having trouble putting weight on the healed bone?”
“No… well, I mean yes, in a way… Yes, and no.”
“Okay…” Dr. Sashimi said; that wasn’t exactly an enlightening answer. “So,” Dr. Sashimi continued after a prolonged pause, “where is your brother?”
“Oh yes, sorry, this way,” Vorax said turning and heading down the hall. Dr. Sashimi followed closely behind though she couldn’t help but glance about the house as they wandered toward the back hallway. She could see a small pile of empty soda bottles by the edge of the couch and in the kitchen, she caught a glimpse of a mountain of trash overflowing the comparably meager trash bin; trash that mostly comprised of empty soda bottles, empty ice cream containers, and various bags of chips and candy. Dr. Sashimi didn’t want to judge, but the dragon leading her down the hall now was on the rather large side and judging by what she just saw, it might be worth her time to bang out two birds with one stone with this visit: address Mazaku’s mobility issues and having a quick talk about sustainable healthy eating habits with his older brother…
“He’s just in here,” Vorax said as he dipped into a room of the hall. Dr. Sashimi’s mind was already running through a tiered differential in her mind and was queueing up her list of pertinent questions, but all of that mental preparation dissipated instantly as she stepped into the dimly lit room and saw the figure before her if what was before her could even be classified as a “figure.”
As a clinician, Dr. Sashimi had seen her fair share of large individuals, and it was from that experience that she was even able to decipher the features of the drooping form before her in the meager lighting: a dragon. Her patient? Mazaku? That couldn’t be right, could it? She glanced down at her clipboard and saw that at his last appointment, Mazaku was just shy of 200lbs. Glancing back up, she knew there was no way that just one of his blubbery legs, or what she could discern were legs, weighed less than two hundred or three hundred pounds in it of themselves.
She could see a thick paw jutting out from circumferential layers of fat that were easily two or three times as wide as the paw was long. The apparent calf fat completely covered the dragon’s ankle as did it his knee with the aid of the upper thigh fat pressing not just down to the floor but forward from a sheer mass effect of having such a dense collection of adipose. What was supposed to be a two hinged lower appendage look like as if it had none, merely a stalk of lard that cascaded off the edge of mattress that the dragon was perched upon. It was that observation that made the whale-drake notice that there was no bed frame beneath he dragon, merely a mattress nestled on the floor.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the splintered remains of wooden planks and boards stacked together in the corner of the room, eliciting a vivid image in her mind of a day when this dragon’s bulk became far too great for the bedframe to take, an explosive event that seemed to be corroborated by the large dent in the wall nearly out of sight behind the dragon’s splaying rump.
Dr. Sashimi couldn’t imagine any commercially available bed that would have been able to support not only the drake’s thunderous thighs and rear, but the massive, billowing gut that took up the majority of the mattress. The mound of blubber left little of the white, spring-loaded material visible to the naked eye as it splayed forward, forcing the dragon’s legs to the side while it seemed to tumble over itself in a race toward the far wall; like competing layers of molten lava flow down the side of a broad volcanic mountain.
Dr. Sashimi could vaguely break down those layers into four distinct guttural parts, like layers of sediment long after the lava flows had cooled. There was the bottom bulge that almost ballooned forward as if squeezed by the lard stacked on top of it. A deep navel separated the bottom from the second layer up which itself seemed content to the be the unassuming glue that held the bottom and the upper two layers together. The upper layers almost appeared to be two sets of moobs. Harkening back to her cadaver dissections, Dr. Sashimi knew that couldn’t possibly be true, though the thought that the drake had swollen so much that not only had his true chest swollen into a pair of what was approaching couch-cushion sized moobs, that the weight of them had forced what likely would have been just a series of small folds running down the front of his torso, just little deviations in fat due straining surface tension, into a single roll of pudge that sloped down over his multi-layered gut. From a purely anatomic perspective, it was quite fascinating as was the contrast between the drake’s upper and lower arms.
Maz’s shoulders bulged wider than the width of his bulbous head and they likely would have drooped down over his elbow like a chunk of molten nacho cheese bubbling over the edge of a chip, but his arms were held nearly parallel to the ground, held up by the sheer bulk of his bulging sides and love handles. Still, Dr. Sashimi could see the adipose splaying out in all directions as if each underlying layer was trying to break free and some pockets were seemingly winning over others, giving the drake’s upper arm an asymmetric, distorted appearance as a series of dimples and outpouchings of fat lined the appendage right down to his thick forearms and doughy, seemingly plump paws.
Dr. Sashimi noticed the enormous tail jutting out of Maz’s backside, easily the width of the oil drums she often saw as stock footage on the business channel that was always playing in the administrator suite back at the hospital. Though the appendage was often used for stability and a key element in the expression of emotion in dragons, Maz’s tail was motionless, made seemingly useless by the endless layers of lard caking it’s feeble, and likely one time dexterous, underlying musculature.
Then there was the drake’s head. Dr. Sashimi could make out a muzzle, a set of cheeks, a nose, and a set of eyes, but they all seemed squished together, the fat caking his head seemingly trying to overtake and smooth over any personifying feature that made the drake who he was. In all of her career, Dr. Sashimi had never encountered a dragon, let a lot anyone, as objectively obese as the drake before her. Though internally she was still shocked, she knew she needed to stay professional. She cleared her throat and glanced down at her files again, not necessarily to glean them one more time, but as a ruse to allow her to collect her thoughts.
“M… Mazaku?” Dr. Sashimi eventually stuttered as she stepped further into the room. She cleared her throat.
“*Huff, yeah… *gasp, that’s me,” the figure huffed. As Sashimi drew closer to the drake, his sheer bulk became more and more apparent as the drake seemingly loomed over her. She suddenly became aware of the drake’s deep, labored breathing and the soft grunt that accompanied every exhale.
“Well, I think I’m started to understand how a young drake like yourself could be having some mobility issues,” Dr. Sashimi said, trying to use as nonjudgmental language as she could. “It’s a little dark in here, let’s get some light so we can get a better look at you.” Dr. Sashimi walked over to the window on the far side of the room, noting the large piles of clothes piled along the wall, clothes that were either torn or seemed stained with sweat or grease; she couldn’t tell for sure. The whale-drake grabbed the cord dangling against the wall and pulled it down with two swift jerks, filling the light with an intense burst of sunlight from outside.
“Hmgmmg…” Maz groaned as Dr. Sashimi turned around. While the room was magnitudes brighter now, she could see Maz squinting his eyes and trying to turn his head away from the light, to little avail. Dr. Sashimi wondered for a brief moment just how long those blinds had been down for, shutting out the outside world as the drake before her simply grew and grew and grew. She didn’t have much time to consider the matter as now in the new light, she could see, even from a distance, that the drake’s scales were covered in stretched marks, particularly around his belly, and cellulite, especially around his elbows and edges of his thighs. She could see a thin sheen off his scales, realizing it was a thin layer of sweat accumulating around the creases and folds lining his sides as well as a deeper sheen around his face and upper chest. The latter resembled a sheen that Dr. Sashimi had only seen along the counters beside the deep fryer at the burger joint she worked weekends in while in high school: the sheen of grease. The observation was yet another clue fitting into a growing narrative as to the reasons for this drake’s mobility issues, but Dr. Sashimi needed concrete information: she had questions and hopefully Maz, and his oddly eager looking brother, had answers.
“So, Mazaku…” Dr. Sashimi started.
“You, *huff, can call me, *wheeze, Maz,” Maz blubbered, his voice strained and quiet like it was taking all his effort just to move his vocal cords from the crushing bulk of his neck flab.
“Okay, Maz, can you tell me what’s going on?”
“I… *gasp, can’t stand up… *huff, anymore.”
“I see, how long has it been since you were able to stand?”
“It’s been... *gasp… it’s… *huff… huff… It’s been a… *wheeze…” Dr. Sashimi could hear that Maz was struggling as his breath grew heavier and raspier. It was as if he were trying to answer questions after sprinting a half-mile, save for the fact just the act of speaking was exercise enough to get him to that point; that was concerning.
“It’s been about a month, maybe a month and a half,” Vorax said, jumping in.
“So this didn’t start with his cast coming off last fall?” Dr. Sashimi clarified.
“No no, this is a recent issue and we were wondering if there were any sort of medical prosthetics that he could use to help him…”
“Whoa whoa, before we starting talking about stuff like that I need to have a better sense of what happened since his last doctor’s visit when his cast came off leading up to now.” Dr. Sashimi turned back toward Maz. “So let’s start from the beginning, and take your time. What happened after you got your cast off?”
“Well,” Vorax said, jumping in before Maz could open his maw. “Nothing crazy serious has happened since he broke his ankle. Like he was able to walk on it no problem, oh, and run!” Vorax pointed toward the framed photograph on the wall. Dr. Sashimi looked and saw a trio of young furs and scalies standing in track uniforms holding up what looked like some sort of medal. In the center of the trio was a small drake that looked oddly both familiar and unfamiliar: Maz. Dr. Sashimi was sort of shocked to see just how small the drake had been at seemingly one point in time.
“When was that picture taken?”
“Last… uh, spring I think,” Vorax said.
“Last spring?!” Dr. Sashimi exclaimed. How was that possible? The drake in the picture couldn’t have been more than a 120-130 pounds soaking wet let alone the behemoth before her; let alone the 194 lbs listed in her file. “So,” Dr. Sashimi said, collecting herself again. “Maz must have broken his ankle just after this picture was taken?”
“Yeah…” Maz blubbered, his voice low and slow, accompanied by a few gurgles that rumbled out from his belly.
“Yeah, it was a few weeks after I think.” Vorax confirmed.
“Then he had that cast on for about six weeks or two months or so was it?” Dr. Sashimi said.
“Yeah, you should have seen him!” Vorax joked. “He was used to running all the time so he was getting cabin fever really hard, being stuck inside all summer with me.”
Stuck inside with him…? Dr. Sashimi pondered. Based on that story, it seemed like Maz might have put on nearly seventy pounds over that short summer. It was understandable that people put on a little weight when immobilized for so long, but seventy pounds was a lot. Dr. Sashimi didn’t think she could put on that much weight in eight weeks if she tried…. If I tried…
“Hmmm,” Dr. Sashimi mused to herself before turning her attention back to Maz. “So were you going on runs and exercising a lot once you got your cast off?”
“A… a little,” Maz said. Though it was tough to discern with the fat of his cheeks and muzzle squishing his face, Dr. Sashimi thought she caught a hint of shame on Maz’s face; what was he ashamed of?
“Yeah, he exercised a little,” Vorax chimed in. “Well, once at least. He went for a run up to the park up the street. Funny story, I saw him when I was driving home that day. He was just sitting on the bench huffing and sweating. He looked beat. Probably a good workout right?”
“Well, that doesn’t sound like he ran very far,” Dr. Sashimi noted.
“Seems fair to me, ha!” Vorax joked but Dr. Sashimi’s face remained serious.
“It shouldn’t have been for Maz, he was a runner, after all, an awarding winning one at that. Even though sitting around for two months while he recovered would have led to some moderate reductions in cardiovascular capabilities, it shouldn’t have completely obliterated his stamina. Had Maz put on some weight over the summer?” Dr. Sashimi knew the answer already, but it was more the response from Vorax that she was looking to observe.
“Well, my bro might have put on a few extra pounds over the summer, but not that much.”
“According to these charts, it seems like he put on nearly seventy pounds.”
“See, not too much,” Vorax reaffirmed.
“Were you not concerned about your brother’s weight?”
“I mean I guess I noticed,” Vorax said with a hint of nervousness in his tone, “but he had been on the scrawny side for a while so I thought some extra meat on his bones sort of speak would be good for him, and it was!”
“I see,” Dr. Sashimi said. “So, Maz, even though you might not have been running as well as you had before, were you still trying to incorporate his runs into his weekly routine?” Maz nodded.
“Well, uh, no. I don’t think he ran all that much.” Vorax interjected.
“I did, *grunt, at first. It was hard though…” Maz wheezed.
“Running is always hard work! Too much work if you ask me,” Vorax said, cutting Maz off?
“Why was that?” Dr. Sashimi said to Maz, trying to ignore his brother for the moment. She saw Maz shift his gaze away another sign of embarrassment; she was onto something. “Were you feeling frustrated about your fitness level coming out of your cast?” Maz slowly turned his gaze and seemed like he was about to open his maw, but Vorax stepped in between the two.
“I don’t think he was mad at himself or anything,” Vorax said. “I think he just got comfortable, you know? He was probably still burned out from that crazy regimen his coaches had him doing all year round for the last four years. I know I would. Why risk running himself ragged, pun intended, and maybe breaking his ankle again when he wasn’t even on the team anymore and when he could just curl up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and watch a movie with his older bro?”
“So what you’re saying is that Maz used to be an avid runner, then after his accident, he completely lost his love for the sport and has participated in little physical activity since?” Dr. Sashimi glanced briefly up at Maz, trying read his face; he wasn’t nodding in approval at her comment, but his brother was. She was starting to sense a pattern.
“Changing gears only slightly,” Dr. Sashimi said, “I want to talk about your diet. While physical exercise is a vital part of maintaining a healthy active lifestyle, one’s diet is far more important in terms of maintaining one’s weight and state of wellbeing. Has your diet changed since last fall or since you broke his ankle?” Maz nodded his head and appeared to open his mouth to speak but a subtle wet belched erupted out instead, prompting the drake to shut his mouth and turn away again. Dr. Sashimi noted that he drake seemed uncomfortable as if he had lost control over his own body’s motions and functions. She figured it must be tough after having the most minute control over every aspect of his being as a runner. She figured the drake must miss those times…
“I guess maybe a little,” Vorax said, jolting Dr. Sashimi back to reality, “but he’s still eating all the same foods he used to eat?”
“What did he usually eat before his accident?”
“Well, he ate a lot of those protein shakes and, oh, a lot of those salads with nuts and fruit in them.”
“Does he eat those now?”
“Well, no I guess, not for a while,” Vorax admitted. “But he’s always loved my meatloaf and lasagna. I used to have to pull him from the dinner table when we were younger and now he still can’t get enough of them!”
“I see, when was the last time you made your meatloaf?”
“Just the other day actually, I still have some leftovers if you want some and…”
“That won’t be necessary,” Dr. Sashimi assured. “How much did Maz eat that meal?”
“Well, I say maybe two or three helpings, not too many.”
“How big is a helping, here?”
“Maybe yeah big,” Vorax said holding up his hands to mime the size of a plate, or at least what Dr. Sashimi assumed was supposed to be a plate because the dimensions of the negative spaced shaped by the drake’s hands was more akin to that of an extra-large cookie baking sheet.
“That seems like a lot of food,” Dr. Sashimi commented.
“Nah, Maz can handle it, that was just appetizer,” Vorax replied, his tone oddly prideful. Dr. Sashimi grunted involuntarily in surprise; appetizer?! From what Vorax was describing, Maz seemingly had down twelve plus pounds of meatloaf just as a starter! For a brief moment, Dr. Sashimi tried to calculate the number of calories that must have represented but quickly the digits grew beyond what her increasingly concerned mind could handle in the brief moment.
“Has Maz always been a big eater?” Dr. Sashimi said.
“More so recently,” Vorax said.
“Since, say, last year?”
“Yeah.”
“Right around the same time you said he was ‘stuck inside with you’ last summer?” Dr. Sashimi said as she dug for more answers.
“Uh well, yeah, I guess you could put it like that.”
“Where he was likely reliant on you to bring him food?
“Yeah…”
“Did you bring him his usual protein shakes and salads?”
“Well, no, not all the time,” Vorax admitted as he attempted to casually wipe a nervous bead of sweat from his brow. “Maybe sometimes I brought him fast food if I was stopping at a taco stand or something.”
“Would you say that your eating habits rubbed off on your brother then?”
“I guess so,” Vorax said. “But what’s wrong with sharing a pizza or two with your brother now and again?”
“Nothing is wrong with fast food on occasion, but when those meals go from being treats to every day or every meal occurrences, that’s when we run into issues of excess.”
“Nutrient excess isn’t a bad thing. He was definitely getting enough protein from the meatloaf and burgers and burritos and everything else to help him build up his leg muscles again!”
“Too much,” Dr. Sashimi said bluntly. “The body only needs the recommended daily amount of protein to maintain body tissues and functions, perhaps a bit more if someone is working out more than the typical person which Maz at the time was not. All that extra protein is conserved by the body not as protein but as fat just like excess carbohydrates and lipids, the latter two of which are vastly more represented in the fast-food it appears that you and your brother were eating in excess. Excess calories and little physical activity seem to define Maz’s lifestyle changes over the last year and likely underpin why he is dangerously overweight today.”
“What do you mean by ‘dangerous overweight,’ doc?”
“All this excess weight can lead to a myriad of bodily damages, and I’m going to figure out the extent of that adipose assault now.” Dr. Sashimi turned toward Maz again and pumping some disinfect on her paws from a small bottle nestled in her white coat. “I’m going to examine you now. Let me know you feel any pain or tenderness, nor if we need to take a break at any point, okay?” Maz nodded his head as best as he could. Maz let out a low nervous grumble as Dr. Sashimi walked around the edge of the bed, pulling out her stethoscope from her white coat pocket.
“I’m just going to start by listening to your heart and lungs. Now just take some nice deep breaths,” Dr. Sashimi aid as she popped the earbuds in her ears and attempted to lean over his bulging thigh and his cascading sides towards his chest; it was a tough reach. Maz felt the doc lean against his pudge, the fat molding around her elbows and the length of our outstretched arm as she just barely managed to place the bell of the stethoscope onto his chest. It was cool to the touch, much to Maz’s sweltering delight as he felt a streak of perspiration on his forehead. As instructed, he tried taking in as deep of breathes as he could, not an easy feat as he felt the weight of his chest pressing down on him; it didn’t help with the added pressure from the doc’s leaning frame. After just a few seconds, as Dr. Sashimi moved the stethoscope across the large expanse of his moob, that he began to feel a burning from deep within his lungs. Maz felt himself starting to get out of breath as he struggled to keep up momentum; still, he tried his best.
“Okay you can breathe normally now,” Dr. Sashimi said, straightening herself back up and giving Maz’s side a supportive pat; Maz had a hunch she must have heard the increasingly raspy, wheezing nature of his breath; how could she have not? The drake felt his cheeks growing hot as he noticed the doc taking notes; not just a few notes, but many. That likely wasn’t a good sign, or was it?
“No rales or crackles… no murmurs, rubs, or gallops… distant heart and lungs sounds… point of maximal impulse felt below the sixth intercostal space…” Dr. Sashimi muttered under her breath.
“Point of maximal impulse?” Maz asked with a nervous chuckle. “That’s good right?”
“Well, yes and no. It’s normal to feel a little pulse in your chest from your heartbeat, but when your heart gets big…”
“See, I always told you you had a big heart,” Vorax said cheerfully.
“It shouldn’t be that low on the chest though.” Dr. Sashimi continued. “It’s a sign your heart is getting to big, like a growing muscle as it tries to pump the blood throughout your body, but it can only do so much and eventually that growth can disrupt the normal beating of your heart and… well, let’s check your pulses.” Dr. Sashimi said, changing the subject.
Something wrong with my heart…!? Maz thought to himself. He had had a sneaking suspicion after those occasional strange flutters and palpitations but in his head, he had chalked those up to just anxiety, nerves, or a pulled chest muscle. Not his heart. Not… his… heart…
“I’ll start with your carotid artery in your neck. You can just breathe normally.” Dr. Sashimi leaned against Maz’s side again and pressed two of her fingers into the side of his neck. Instead of compressing the flesh ever so slightly, her fingers continued to sink deeper and deeper into the ring of fat that encircled Maz’s head. Maz could feel her sliding her fingers around, trying to find his pulse like it was buried treasure.
“Could you turn your head to the side for me?”
Maz tried to do as he was instructed, but the flab from his neck limited his movements. Still, he was able to stretch the fat just enough to allow Dr. Sashimi to scoop her fingers and half of her paw, beneath a fat fold. “Oh! Just got it!” Dr. Sashimi paused, her gaze blank as she concentrated on the task at hand. “Okay, let’s try the other one.” The whale-drake sauntered around the bed while Maz turned his head the other direction in preparation for what was to come. It took the doc nearly half a minute to find his pulse again, which Maz knew shouldn’t be the case, but deep down he was glad that it was still possible to feel his arteries from beneath all that pudge.
Dr. Sashimi then moved to check the pulses in his wrists, using one of her paws to pull back the drooping fat while pressing firmly with her other paw. She then moved to his knees, laying down along the edge of the mattress and pressuring her hand up into the crevice where the back of his knee should have been like she was a world-class powerlifter. Finally, she made her way to his ankles, pressing her maws along the inside of his ankle. By the time she was done, she looked like she was starting to work up and sweat and was breathing deeply as she went back to her notes.
“Normal rhythm, tachycardia, *huff… +3 bilateral carotid pulses, +2 left ulnar and radial pulses, +1 right ulnar and radial pulses, +1 bilateral posterior tibial pulses… Capillary refill slow in both upper and lower extremities…” Dr. Sashimi muttered. Maz wanted to ask the whale-drake what all those numbers and terms meant, but he stopped himself. The heart exam had spooked him; he didn’t want to be spooked again.
“Okay, I think we’re going to skip testing your reflexes because…” Dr. Sashimi just glanced down where Maz’s knees should have been. “So, I want to just do a quick check of your scales to make sure everything is nice and healthy.”
Maz watched as Dr. Sashimi walked up beside him and leaned in close to his arm, her eyes glued to his bloated scales as she scanned along the folds and creases. She used her paw to lift some pockets and flabs of fat to see underneath.
“Some irritation there…” Dr. Sashimi muttered. She was meticulous with her assessment, occasionally pulling out a reflex hammer from her white coat and using it to help hold apart pockets of pudge. She also tapped lightly with both the broad butt and the pointier handle against various spots along his upper extremities, asking him if he felt her pocking and prodding. Though he usually nodded yes, there were a few times near the end of his forearm that it took a few pokes for the sensation to register.
“He’s always had thick scales,” Vorax chimed.
“Scale thickness has nothing to do with this,” Dr. Sashimi replied bluntly, eliciting a nervous gulp from Maz: what was wrong with him?! He couldn’t even feel a rubber hammer on his arm properly?! This was all too much… there was just too much… too much fat…
He saw the whale-drake pause a few times as she examined congregations of cellulite along the backside of his forearms and took note of a few particularly large stretch marks along the back of his upper arm.
“Okay, Maz, can you lift your arm for me?” Dr. Sashimi asked. “I saw a few sores along the underside of your forearm and I want to make sure there isn’t any irritation from your arm against your sides up in your armpit.” Maz grunted as he attempted to lift his arm. He managed to raise his forearm, but as he lifted higher, what became evident was that he was only moving his arm through the pool of pudge surrounding it. The thick layers of lard simply wobbled and sagged a bit further before Maz hit a wall. His arms burned as he tried to physically lift his bingo wings but they wouldn’t budge; deep down he knew this was going to happen. This wasn’t the first day he had hit this wall. After a few seconds, Dr. Sashimi noticed Maz struggling and motioned for Vorax to come over.
“Can you help lift his arm for me?” Dr. Sashimi asked.
“Sure thing!” Vorax said as he wrapped his arms around Maz’s doughy bicep and huffed as he hoisted it up. The fat sloshed back up and over Maz’s broad shoulders and smooshed slight up against the side of his face, eliciting a grunt from the drake. Dr. Sashimi worked quickly as she eyed the various folds and crevices that lay buried away from the sunlight for who knew how long.
“Oh, just as I feared,” Dr. Sashimi said.
“What?” Maz blubbered, straining his neck to try and see beneath the canopy of pudge that was his shoulder.
“There’s no sores, but there is some scale darkening, acanthosis nigrans.”
“W… *grunt… What’s, *wheeze, what’s that?” Maz asked.
“It’s scale change that is associated with a number of things, but typically we see it in obese individuals, in particular obese individuals who are starting to develop insulin resistance.” Dr. Sashimi said.
“Like, diabe…” Maz started the color draining from his face.
“It’s not a very specific indicator, and I’d want to run some lab tests before I made any definitive conclusions as to what it might represent.” Dr. Sashimi said. “Now let’s do the other arm.”
“And up we go big guy,” Vorax chortled as he rushed around the mattress and hoisted up Maz’s other arm; Dr. Sashimi tried to suppress an annoyed grimace. There was some about the drake’s upbeat, almost gleeful tone that Dr. Sashimi didn’t take too kindly too. Was it lost on him that his brother was so large that he couldn’t lift his own arm? Where was Vorax’s sense of urgency? Did he not care? It was almost like this is what Vorax wanted for his brother or at least encouraged; that’s what all of her observational evidence was pointing to.
“Okay, now the legs,” Dr. Sashimi said as she knelt on the ground and had Vorax deadlift the edges of Maz’s legs, though the action resulted merely in twisted Maz’s leg to the side, like rolling a massive fallen log in the woods to see the grub scurrying underneath.
“Man, shouldn’t have gotten such a cheap mattress,” Vorax mused as he noted the deep indentations in the mattress that outlined perfectly Maz’s massive haunches.
That’s his takeaway from this?! Dr. Sashimi thought to herself. Dr. Sashimi understood the idea of not wanting to adhere to typical societal norms of body size and physique, and had even heard of people she was pretty sure were called gainers who liked to bulk up or whatever they called it when she was on her bariatric rotation back in medical school, but there were limits on everything.
“Okay, let’s try as best we can to lift the bottom of Maz’s stomach,” Dr. Sashimi said. She and Vorax positioned themselves on opposite sides of the billowing mass of lard and hoisted the massive folds up as much as their comparably feeble arms could allow. Dr. Sashimi tried to adjust her arms to prevent the fat from sloshing inward toward the middle, forming a large W in the center of the mattress. She craned her neck to peer underneath into the dark, damp abyss formed from the stomach-mattress bilayer.
“Hope there aren’t any errant slim jims down there,” Vorax joked; Dr. Sashimi wasn’t laughing. From what she was gathering she it appeared that Vorax didn’t understand those limits or the consequences of those limits. He was just making light of this very serious situation. He seemed oblivious to his brother’s obvious struggles with simple matters like just lifting his arms or even speaking.
“Okay, I think I’ve seen what I need to,” Dr. Sashimi said as she gently placed the fat folds in her arm back down onto the mattress meanwhile Vorax simply let the flab drop to the floor, sending a series of cascading ripples up the front of Maz’s torso and out along his soft extremities.
“That was unnecessary,” Dr. Sashimi muttered under her breath.
“What was that?” Vorax asked.
“Oh, I just what to opened up to hear what sort of difficulties that you, Maz,” Dr. Sashimi said, looking at Maz again, “are having.”
“Well,” Vorax said, jumping in yet again with an upbeat tone. “For the most part he’s just peachy, but sometimes he says that he has some pain in his joints, like at his hips and knees.” Dr. Sashimi furiously began to jot down notes as Vorax continued in an oddly nonchalant manner. “He sometimes gets this tingling in his toes, like they’ve fallen asleep but for like twenty minutes. Sometimes he says his chest feels weird like it’s fluttering. He doesn’t sleep super well and is always kind of tired and he gets acid reflux pretty bad sometimes.”
“What do you mean by bad?”
“Like sometimes TUMS doesn’t seem to help after a big meal or something, but usually it’s not that bad.”
“That is bad,” Dr. Sashimi said firmly. “All of this bad!”
“Hmmm?” Vorax grunted in an odd mix of surprise and confusion.
“Based on what you and Maz himself has told me and our brief examination, I can say with absolute certainty and seriousness that I am very concerned about Maz’s health! He is grossly overweight and it’s having a negative impact on his body.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Vorax dismissed.
“This shouldn’t be brushed off. Maz is showing early signs of peripheral vascular disease, particularly in his lower legs, signs of neurologic disease with decreased sensation in his extremities. He has sores and abscess across his body that need to be better tended to. His heart is struggling to keep up and he appears to be experiencing signs of angina which is not good. He doesn’t appear to be ventilating properly, likely from all that weight crushing his lungs and though I can’t say for sure now without the proper tests, he is showing signs of sleep apnea and possibly obesity hypoventilation syndrome, both of which further increase his risk for cardiovascular disease. On top of all of that, his persistent acid reflux can lead to cancer. Cancer!” Dr. Sashimi took a deep breath. “This shouldn’t be news for either of you but if Maz continues in this state, he’ll be set up for more serious complications in the future, possibly near future. I’m sorry for being blunt but I need to make sure that both you and Maz understand.” Vorax went to speak but Dr. Sashimi held up her hand, cutting him off.
“I’m not finished.” Dr. Sashimi continued. “You need to understand that this is serious and from what I can tell you have been enabling if not outright imputing this all on your brother. It’s clear that he cannot feed himself anymore which means his weight is only going up because of all the food that you are bringing to him.”
“Sure, I’ve started feeding Maz myself lately, but what am I supposed to do?” Vorax said, his eyebrows narrowing. “Let my brother starve because he can’t feed himself?”
“No, I’m saying there’s a reason he’s gotten to this state and I’m imploring you to reconsider your roll in the state of your brother’s health and work with him to make a change.” Right at the moment, Maz’s stomach rumbled loudly, filling the room with an echous gurgling noise that was followed by a prolonged, tense silence. After a few seconds. Dr. Sashimi pulled out a blank sheet of paper from her notepad and began to furiously scribble.
“I’m writing down some recommendations for some diet and exercise that you both can start to implement to help change course. There are some upper body exercises that Maz can do and some food substitutions to help cut back on the calories, fats, and sugars that he is consuming. It may not seem very sophisticated, but every little bit counts even at his size.” Dr. Sashimi tore the paper from her notebook and handed it to Vorax who skimmed the page.
“But Maz doesn’t like vegetables or asparagus or things,” Vorax said bluntly.
“I thought you said he used to eat salads all the time?”
“Well, uh,” Vorax sputtered. “I mean he doesn’t like these vegetables.”
“Well, it’s what he needs.”
“What if he doesn’t eat it?”
“You’ve got to strongly encourage him to eat it.”
“You want me to force spinach down his throat?”
“You seem to have done a good job dumping gallons of ice cream down his throat, so a few plates of spinach shouldn’t be too hard.”
“You’re asking me to force my brother to eat food he doesn’t want. That’s not right!” Vorax said, his tone growing more exasperated.
“It’s what’s necessary at this time.” Dr. Sashimi said, her tone still firm.
“Well, what if I don’t want to force my own brother to eat something he doesn’t want?”
“THIS ISN’T ABOUT YOU!” Dr. Sashimi shouted. “You’ve been speaking for your brother this entire time. Have you asked him what he wants?” Dr. Sashimi turned toward Maz again who seemed like he was moments away from bursting into tears. “I know you’ve been having a hard time speaking up and breathing to answer my questions, but that’s part of the problem. You are not well and you are barreling down a path of disease and trauma that could end in the most final of ways. Now I’m going to head back to the clinic and fill out some prescriptions and have them sent over here immediately…” Dr. Sashimi started gathering up her equipment and papers and began to move toward the door.
“Hey, you can’t just scare him like that!” Vorax shouted.
“It’s what he needs to hear,” Dr. Sashimi said as she stepped out of the bedroom and made her way toward the front door. She heard pounding feet behind her and with surprising speed, Vorax rushed around her and stepped in front of the door just before she reached for the knob.
“So what, losing weight is his only option?!?” Vorax, angry. “That’s it?!”
“YES! The weight is the problem! Maz is at a tipping point and if he doesn’t take it seriously and YOU don’t take it seriously and he doesn’t start being proactive about changing his habits and losing weight, he is as good as dead!” Dr. Sashimi stepped around Vorax opened the door and slammed it behind her in Vorax’s face.
A wave of eerie silence washed over the room, save for the subtle, yet distinct sound of Maz wheezing from the bedroom…
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fat Furs
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Multiple characters
Size 1280 x 931px
Listed in Folders
You don't care about his weight even at a time like this vorax? Shame on you!
I think he's been in denial about the consequences about what he's been doing to Maz. Hopefully this snaps him out of it.
Vorax really needs to wake up and help a younger bro out for once. He's putting Maz's life on the line and yet he just denies and jokes about it. Some brother. If Maz gets a heart attack and dies, it will be vorax's fault.
Exactly. I think Vorax honestly cares about his brother to some degree; the problem is he never stopped to consider what Maz wanted and didn't want. I'm hoping this finally snaps him out of it and both of them are better off for it, because there's only one other way it can go.
Yeah. Vorax better help maz loose all that weight before it get worse.
With only a few chapters left. We will have to wait and see what happens!
Psh he'll make it. In the story anyway. But everyone dies, whether their story ended before or after said death.
Wow, this is getting deep.
Can I say though thank god Vorax finally got told off for once for what he's been doing xD
Here's hoping the proper end of this story concludes on a high note, I worry for poor Maz ;w;
Can I say though thank god Vorax finally got told off for once for what he's been doing xD
Here's hoping the proper end of this story concludes on a high note, I worry for poor Maz ;w;
It is indeed. These next few chapters will be. So brace yourself!
And it was interesting having such a confrontation like that! Never would have thought Vorax would be told off like that!
And we will have to see~
And it was interesting having such a confrontation like that! Never would have thought Vorax would be told off like that!
And we will have to see~
Hopefully Vorax takes this seriously, realizes he's gone way too far, and knocks this off, because if he doesn't there's only one other way this can go, and I'd really rather not see it go that way.
I guess we will have to see what happens in the next few chapters~
Looking forward to it! While I admit I didn't care for this particular turn in the story, any compelling story needs some conflict, and on balance I still really like the story, both the writing and illustrations. Still want to see what happens next!
From the start, the gaining had some health realistic views on it, it was bound to happen, but we'll have to see what happens next! I appreciate your support nonetheless!
Yes Vorax, I understand that you want Max to be fat. But there is a limit, and a line you are very close to crossing. Do you want Maz to DIE because of your desire to see him gain? Do you want his metaphorical lifeblood on your hands?
He crossed that line along time ago, when he went from encouraging Maz to gain weight to flat out forcing him to, not caring that it was against his wishes, and not caring or being in denial about what that was doing to him. Perhaps he was honestly in denial about the ultimate consequences but at some point he should have realized he's gone way too far. Here's hoping he at least realizes that now. Maybe at some point he honestly believed his brother would be better off and enjoy being fatter, but this entire story it's clear he was acting upon his own desires, not his brother's. Knowing that Maz was too timid to resist, it's not hard to call Vorax out for taking advantage of his brother right from the beginning. THAT is when he crossed the line. He didn't try to get Maz to gain weight because it's something Maz wanted, but because it was something he wanted, and that's been the case for the entire story.
that’s a fair point.
Congrats, Vorax. You’re basically committing fratricide.
Congrats, Vorax. You’re basically committing fratricide.
Here's hoping both Vorax and Maz learn something from this; Vorax has to learn not to force his desires upon others, and Maz needs to learn to stick up for his own.
Very good discussion here. Vorax may be at fault, but Maz has his own faults too. Being able to stand your ground and confront his brother that he doesn't want that is crucial to get through Vorax's stubbornness.
If it goes to the extreme, I guess that is a way to go with it~
Who knows what will happen next!
Who knows what will happen next!
Jesus Christ. This just got a little series. Please god, let this story end happily.
As much as I love the heavy duty and more extreme aspects of gaining this is getting dark, here’s hoping Maz gets better or at least learns to snot it or something. Damn good work with the whole thing by the way!
Yeah, I still think it's a great story, don't get me wrong. And I certainly enjoy fat and weight gain stuff, as should be obvious. But in a world with realistic consequences, there's only so far you can take it, and that's not something I care to dwell on. This is the part of the story where it's just not fun for me anymore. Logically it had to arrive here unless it took place in a universe absent of realistic consequences; I just hope Vorax snaps out of it for both his brother's and his own sake.
Still I like this story on balance, both the writing and the illustrations. Here's hoping the story has a reasonably happy ending to it. Not just that Maz gets to a reasonable weight, but that Vorax learns not to be so forceful and Maz learns to be more assertive, because that's how they ended up so far down this road.
Still I like this story on balance, both the writing and the illustrations. Here's hoping the story has a reasonably happy ending to it. Not just that Maz gets to a reasonable weight, but that Vorax learns not to be so forceful and Maz learns to be more assertive, because that's how they ended up so far down this road.
As much as I appreciate the interesting point of view you have, you've admittedly said this repeatedly in this comment section. I agree with you that the writing and art here is good, its really made me care about the story in ways besides just the general fat fur content.
I really appreciate your comments here. Tony and I really wanted to bring some real aspects into extreme gaining and I know this is not everyone's cup of tea, so I am glad you are appreciating it for what it is!
I really should've been paying attention to the last few chapters, because..
Holy shit this has gotten deep.
The tension is raised high, leaving the predicament for what happens to Maz, Vorax not understanding the important life aspect of healthiness.
Just, holy damn. I really hope there comes a happy ending to this story..
Holy shit this has gotten deep.
The tension is raised high, leaving the predicament for what happens to Maz, Vorax not understanding the important life aspect of healthiness.
Just, holy damn. I really hope there comes a happy ending to this story..
Yeah, it got deep real quick. Two chapters left, yet, so many things can still unfold~
Wow, that was probably the most powerful chapter in this story so far. I mean it was kinda obvious how far this was gonna go and how big Maz was gonna get given his brothers habits, but this chapter really spells out the problems and struggles that Maz is facing, and it also shows off his brother's complete ignorance to the whole issue. Despite this being a much more darker and serious chapter, this would such a powerful and well-written chapter. Fantastic job <3
Having a character flaw called out like that really adds some character development to him and I think is interesting to see. We are excited to close the story soon and see how these characters develop with deep issues like this~
This was really fun to read. I can't wait for the next chapter. You did an awesome job with the art, and plokishmok3 did an awesome job with the story. They work so well in tandem and harmony that it truly deserves to be in the figurative hall of fame for fatfur literature OwO
Oh wow! What an honor that would be if it was so! Being able to make an impact on this community would be a dream~
i really hope this story has a happy end, maybe with Maz just a little smaller than Vorax himself, and Plokishmok's character [tony, i think?] and maz having a positive relationship in the future. Maybe 'tony' could indulge in a secret fat kink with Maz, idk. I'm concerned about Maz and I want him to be a happy little chubster, and I want Vorax to be okay with that. tbh i need good vibes in this quaratine ;w;
All good theories. With two chapters left, anything can happen!
As big and sexy as Maz has gotten now, as well as how much I wish Vorax was my brother, Vorax needs to stop being so selfish and take Maz’ needs into account. I get that he originally wanted to make Maz big like him again but what is his purpose for making him this massive???
I would agree! Vorax loves his fat, but as you said, this is very very big. We'll have to see what happens!
Seeing as this story is progressing...I might have theories, and maybe a few ideas to share if you want to hear them.
What a great chapter, the writing is really good and makes so i can imagine well whats happening and the art is really well made and is just the perfect fitting to imagine everything. The character developement was more on Vorax than Maz on this and wow reality hit Vorax like a truck . This chapter confirmed a little more what i was thinking of all the chapters before it. I just can’t wait for the next chapter.
Thank you so much for the feedback on this! I am glad people are appreciating the character development of the story. It has been interesting illustrating and seeing the story along the way! Thanks for your support!
You’re welcome, normally i never comment on art I really like but this story is just too good that i just can’t leave it without a feedback. Keep up the amazing work
I feel sorry for Maz there. He's at the extreme limit. Hope he can turn it around with the help of his friends and drop a lot of weight.
The picture talks on its own, Vorax has gone too far this time. Sashimi doesn't seem to be pleased with what she's seeing u,u
Not at all! She's a doctor. You can't blame her for those looks!
I mean, there's doctors and "doctors" xD I'm pretty sure that if Vorax had made some research he would have found one more... like-minded with himself
I am conflicted. On one hand, I hope Vorax chooses the option to get his little brother healthy once again and out of critical condition. On the other, it is a shame to see all of his lovely hard work go down the drain.
I feel the same way, if this was a real fantasy setting I’d love to be Maz right now and I’d love to see Maz loving his new life with his brother. But since that isn’t this kinda story, I just wanna see him get healthier
That is understandable! With how real we have made this, it will be interesting to see what happens with the rest of the story~
Clearly you mean fatty dragon blobs, but now I’m just imagining a straight up dragon-whale hybrid.
To echo my statement on Twitter, I'm shocked to see that Maz has gained more weight since the last chapter, but I guess the story called for something more extreme to get Vorax to realize the gravity (pun intended) of the situation, he can realize that action needs to be taken now.
He still cares for his brother, especially since he was the one who arranged the doctor's visit, but he also thought that the situation was able to be cured by what amounts to a bandage when the problem is more severe and needs more work to fix. Being told that he's practically killed his brother is just the wake-up call he needs.
While I can go on and on about how Maz needs to get the courage to be more assertive when it comes to his brother, X , but here is the thing....
Vorax doesn't have the information the readers do, and it is very possible he missed the signs that were clearly spelled out to us. I mean, you can basically say that Maz started his downward spiral in Chapters 4-6, but it didn't start being apparent until around Chapters 8 or 9, and for all we know, Vorax missed the cues and kept going with his enabling behaviors that kick-started the whole thing in chapter 1. (Heck, the story's title is information enough to know that Maz is trying to escape from all of the weight he's gained, and we (the readers) knew that before he even broke his leg to begin with.)
I'm not saying that Vorax should get off scot-free, far from it, but he's already had his wake-up-call and he can still be redeemed or at the very least forgiven. I mean, there's still three or four chapters left, so there is still plenty of story for things to turn around, even though I still sit with my prediction that Maz will never return to the way he was before the prologue. And we haven't even heard from Tony since the last chapter, so here's hoping he gets a chance to help turn things around. At the very least, he's more qualified than Vorax to plan a diet and exercise regimen...
Another thing to note. I hope they can find a work-out and diet regimen that doesn't include shipping Max off to a hospital until he can literally get on his feet again. As someone who has been in them for an extended period of time, they are so soul-crushing, and I'd hate for that to happen.
One last note about Vorax that just came to mind, You think with how much his brother has expanded, you think he would have also gained a buch of weight as well. Of course, if he also got too fat to move, it would be hard to move the plot along, but it does make you wonder what he thinks about his brother now that he well surpassed his already large state a few chapters ago...
He still cares for his brother, especially since he was the one who arranged the doctor's visit, but he also thought that the situation was able to be cured by what amounts to a bandage when the problem is more severe and needs more work to fix. Being told that he's practically killed his brother is just the wake-up call he needs.
While I can go on and on about how Maz needs to get the courage to be more assertive when it comes to his brother, X , but here is the thing....
Vorax doesn't have the information the readers do, and it is very possible he missed the signs that were clearly spelled out to us. I mean, you can basically say that Maz started his downward spiral in Chapters 4-6, but it didn't start being apparent until around Chapters 8 or 9, and for all we know, Vorax missed the cues and kept going with his enabling behaviors that kick-started the whole thing in chapter 1. (Heck, the story's title is information enough to know that Maz is trying to escape from all of the weight he's gained, and we (the readers) knew that before he even broke his leg to begin with.)
I'm not saying that Vorax should get off scot-free, far from it, but he's already had his wake-up-call and he can still be redeemed or at the very least forgiven. I mean, there's still three or four chapters left, so there is still plenty of story for things to turn around, even though I still sit with my prediction that Maz will never return to the way he was before the prologue. And we haven't even heard from Tony since the last chapter, so here's hoping he gets a chance to help turn things around. At the very least, he's more qualified than Vorax to plan a diet and exercise regimen...
Another thing to note. I hope they can find a work-out and diet regimen that doesn't include shipping Max off to a hospital until he can literally get on his feet again. As someone who has been in them for an extended period of time, they are so soul-crushing, and I'd hate for that to happen.
I think both the brothers here both have things they can work on. It was interesting reading what you had to say and I am very glad you left this comment. With two chapters left there is still so much that can happen!
I'm just glad you weren't intimidated by the fact my comment looked like a small essay compared to everyone else's. I can't wait to see what this story has, even if it's going to be quite a struggle for all of the characters involved.
I am glad you think that! We will see what unfolds in the next chapters~
What a contrast from the last chapter. 10 got serious with the end of mobility, but even then Tony was there for Maz. There was something intimate about helping someone who struggles to do basic things. Here we see the dark, logical conclusion to this fantasy, where the compulsion to comfort his brother has been turned into something Vorax probably didn't intend on. Lovely work.
It was something that we thought we would try and I am glad you like it! There is still more to come, so stay tuned! Thanks for the support!
*crosses fingers* Please have a bad end, please have a bad end, please have a bad end...
I've just always been into the morbid and self-destructive aspect of unrestrained gluttony.
I wish that I could have Vorax as my brother so he could make me as fat as he wants and I also wish that I wouldn’t have to worry about health problems If I became that fat, I really like this series I wonder how it will end
Maz! Are you ok!? *I was wearing a surgery scrubs* please tell me your heart is ok..
These pics are well drawn, they’re a good job. Just hope it doesn’t get extremely dark...
Well, I for one am really enjoying this series and look forward to seeing the rest of it played out. You're a really talented writer!
Awe thanks, the writing is done by plokishmok3 though! Give him all of the love for that~
Gosh these poor boy really lost the control - he´s looking really cute and to cuddle him must be awesome - but damn is he big!
Indeed he is big! That's what happens when you sit all day and eat enough food to feed an army!
I actually just had a dream about this sequence for some reason, and it gave me a small theory on how this will end.
Maz will pass on due to his brother as he ignores the warnings and the next image is a gravestone.
Soon after you post another image (probably the next day or so) showing Maz waking up, showing that it was simply just all a dream.
Maz will pass on due to his brother as he ignores the warnings and the next image is a gravestone.
Soon after you post another image (probably the next day or so) showing Maz waking up, showing that it was simply just all a dream.
Hm, well I am honored you dreamed about it! Though it must have been a rough dream...
We will have to see what happens!
We will have to see what happens!
the christian moms against furries association does not approve of this piece
Well, it is a chance to be more ok with this story because it helps people to understand that are thing that are too extreme and I need to be stopped at some point
I come back here after a month and a half without fat art/ stories just for this. This all story it is so good and complex (and I say it now from the perpective of former fan of fat art/stories). I think this will remain my last ressort on this part of this furry fandom because I left all this fat stuff because it has begun too much for me (more like a fetish and I felt unatural with it). Keep the good work on this and it is so bad that this site doesn't have a like or upvote button (I readed the chapters before this before I left this).
It means a lot you take the time to still read this despite the losing interest in the genre. Means a whole lot and I hope you like where the rest of the story has to go!
Goodness, I really hope Maz pulls through.
And good on Dr. Sashimi. If I was in their place, I probably would have slapped Vorax out of frustration at least twice. They have the patience of a saint
And good on Dr. Sashimi. If I was in their place, I probably would have slapped Vorax out of frustration at least twice. They have the patience of a saint
We will have to see!
And yes, Dr. Sashimi is the goddess of patience~
And yes, Dr. Sashimi is the goddess of patience~
Amazing story, very detailed. I really feel sorry for Maz... for a while he seemed really naieve... now he has been captured for sure. And I guess Tony has been put off by Vorax.
I hope it ends well for Maz, he is such a good soul.
I hope it ends well for Maz, he is such a good soul.
Both of them have flaws they need to fix and hopefully they do it before it is too late!
Thanks so much for the support dude!
Thanks so much for the support dude!
This is really good dialogue, albeit morbid. Tis the reality of the situation and am eager to see how it will all resolve itself~ :D
Damn I just love health issues with being that big. Isn't it weird?
But then I also love how Vorax is enabling him even more. I would do that too, he is just a good caring brother, in his own weird ways.
I mean, hey if Maz doesn't want to eat Veggis, just blend them in with even more ice cream, he won't notice it at all.
But then I also love how Vorax is enabling him even more. I would do that too, he is just a good caring brother, in his own weird ways.
I mean, hey if Maz doesn't want to eat Veggis, just blend them in with even more ice cream, he won't notice it at all.
We all like things like that and I am one who kinda likes it, and is a reason why are taking a turn like that with the story.
And you have a point! Gotta get those vegetables in!
And you have a point! Gotta get those vegetables in!
This image may be very fetishy, and like "owo uwu big fatty dwagon X3" But it sends a big message not to let people do this to you, or you doing this to yourself
Being Fat can be nice, but there is a point where its not right. I say that yet im sure i've drawn my Dragons even bigger than this derg XD (but i'm not someone who this dark... so)
I still couldn't imagine something like this happening. Maybe its a case thats rarely documented to this level, or we just don't know someone is being made THIS big by others :\
Being Fat can be nice, but there is a point where its not right. I say that yet im sure i've drawn my Dragons even bigger than this derg XD (but i'm not someone who this dark... so)
I still couldn't imagine something like this happening. Maybe its a case thats rarely documented to this level, or we just don't know someone is being made THIS big by others :\
Yeah, there are some people that are not a huge fan of this and that is understandable. We wanted to try something more serious and I am glad you took notice to it. It means a lot to us so thank you!
Well this is meant to send a message, the intention is the story, not the big bulky dragon
sometimes seriousness is very needed
sometimes seriousness is very needed
This sounds like a intense episode of "my 600 lbs life" Vorax is an enabler...and that's TOTALLY not cute.
There is an alternative ending (kinda like what you said but with different circumstances) that has been written, but I am still finishing the art piece but have been busy with school. I hope to release it next month.
There is something oddly pleasing about Sashimi giving Vorax that death glare. Just an oddly hilarious dose of “YOU DID THIS”.
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