The first part of an art and story weight gain commission for https://twitter.com/DolbyVixen!
This was finished a while ago but I'm only just getting around to posting it.
Having been on the road for the best part of a month, flitting from town to town, city to city, hardly ever without some kind of cargo hooked up to the back of his truck, it was a pleasant novelty for Dolby to have actually spent a night in his own bed rather than curled up in the cubby at the back of the cab, parked up at some truck stop, often in the middle of nowhere. But now, after this short break for a touch of home comfort, the alarm was telling him that it was high time he was back on the road: this time he’d be taking a consignment of processed food to Edmonton.
Speaking of processed food, that had been the fox’s entire diet during his long period of nomadic existence and, coupled with his only exercise having been coupling and uncoupling trailers and walking to and from gas station stores, it was starting to show.
The bed springs creaked as he sat up and, after kicking the blankets off himself, swung his feet onto the floor. Yawning and stretching, he stood and stumped off to the kitchen.
It was during this short walk that Dolby noticed that his body was feeling both more and less mobile: his boxer-covered inner thighs swished past each other with each step, slightly inhibiting his stride; the movement had his tummy, which partially obscured his feet now he was looking down at it, shuddering and wobbling from side to side. Once he was done with breakfast, he told himself, it was time to dig out his bathroom scales.
After a breakfast of a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal…well, two bowls…and the bacon and eggs which surely wouldn’t keep until he got home, it was time to jiggle off to the bathroom: with another several weeks at minimum on the road coming up, one last proper shower was very much in order.
It took a moment of digging around in the bathroom cabinets to locate the dusty digital scale. Though old and underused, its display still lit up eagerly when set upon the tiled floor with a clatter, ready to pass judgement on the fox’s physique. The numbers flickered for several seconds as he subjected combination of glass, metal, and plastic to his weight, before they finally settled and flashed their conclusion up at him: two hundred and fifty-six pounds.
Two-five-six. Even accounting for the substantial breakfast he had just consumed, that surely meant he was at least two-fifty on an empty tank; perhaps it would be an idea to jog around a few parks in the coming weeks…
Art by https://www.furaffinity.net/user/cursoryexploration