The fennec boy had accomplished so much in just over a year of bulking. He was no longer a skinny twink. He had exceeded every goal he’d set along the way. He had been recognised for his chugging prowess. He had received a ‘Milk Sponsorship’ from Nickel’s, the dairy producer that seemed to be everywhere these days. The fennec had never heard of a Milk Sponsorship before, or the Chugging Championship. But now he’d won both, through determination, and the fact he never really tired of drinking the stuff. He was the strongest he had ever been, and could lift an incredible load of weight. The only problem seemed to be most of that load was himself.
Furniture buckled and split under his soft rump. The ground trembled under paw. Narrow doorways pinched his thick sides, and everywhere he went, his broad, doughy belly preceded him, gurgling for more milk. Thankfully, his shorts were still hanging on, the fennec had no idea how he’d cope emotionally if his lovingly-repaired pair of sky-blue shorts finally tore to shreds. Then it’d be impossible to ignore that he had maybe gotten a bit fat.
Okay, maybe he was the most enormous fennec he’d ever seen. That was a good starting point to turn things around though! Clearly there had just been a slight miscalculation in the bulking routine that had led to his cuddly, marshmallowy figure. He could adjust his diet, take his stretches more seriously (it was hard to touch toes he couldn’t see)… he’d be fitting back into cars and elevators in no time at all! But then again… was he really ready to give up his chugging career now he’d found success?
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