The sun’s bright rays slowly crept across the dark bedroom, slipping through the cracks in the blinds and coming ever so close to Buddy’s face. The black labrador was in the middle of an extremely complex and exciting dream - it involved a conga line and frequent costume changes - but when the sunbeams finally landed on his face, his purple eyes sprung open. Today was the day! A minute later, his alarm rang, and the canine smiled as he slapped the off switch and hopped out of bed. He scratched an itch on his back with an outstretched paw before with a smile on his face. Waking up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed the first day of starting a new job was quite a good omen.
It wasn’t that Buddy was desperate to find a new job last month, but he was unfulfilled. Slaving away in the legal department on minutiae and paperwork was keeping the bills paid, but it was a total drag, and the pay could definitely be better. For the last few months, he’d been searching for something else, scouring job boards in his free time for an hour or two per day. Most of his searches were fruitless, but then came something new one night. The listing, seeking a creative director, was mysterious. He didn’t recognize the company, “BigWuff,” but when he saw the description, Buddy figured it was worth sending in an application. “Seeking a great writer with an eye for design,” it said. “If you pay attention to detail and are always focused on the bigger picture, we’d like to talk to you.” The black lab scrolled and was delighted to find he had just the right amount of experience for the job. He knew law, which meant he could write, and in the last few years, he’d built up an impressive freelance graphic design portfolio. He nodded his head when he clicked “send,” feeling optimistic about a potential new start.
Just days later, after a quick phone call to vet his resume, Buddy sat before a group of furs in suits, all of them peering over his resume. The black lab was the final interview of the day and sat across from a group of middlemen, mostly HR representatives making sure he was who he said he was. The questions were cursory, the discussion plain, until someone else walked in behind him, bellowing a quick apology for being late. Buddy turned around to see who it was and tried to mask his surprise.
Walking into the room was a red wolf wearing a smart navy-blue suit, but that wasn’t what caught Buddy’s eye - it was that the suit was straining at every button and every seam to hold what looked like a quarter-ton of flab. The wolf’s jacket was buttoned, but just barely - with a deep breath, the lupine could probably inflate his gut big enough to pop the strained fasteners. Buddy could see the curled outline of his moobs and the way his neck seemed to roll over his collar, but tried not to think about it too hard; this was a job interview, after all.
“Buddy, eh? It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the wolf said, extending his thick paw for a handshake. Buddy jumped to his footpaws to return the shake. “I’m JT Wulv, director of marketing here at BigWuff. No, before you ask, it’s not named after this thing,” he said, patting his gut for emphasis. Buddy gulped when he noticed the ripples emanating through it. “Let’s run through some quick questions and get you out of this stuffy board room, OK?”
Once Buddy shook off the shock of meeting the fattest fur he’d ever seen, the rest of the interview went swimmingly. JT went to sit down, only to break a chair underneath him and go sprawling onto the floor with a floor-shaking thud. Buddy bounded up to offer him a paw up, and the wolf broke into laughter as he leaned on the black lab to regain his footing.
“I do this three times a year,” the wolf chucked sheepishly. “I always forget to grab a reinforced chair. Imagine if you were interviewing me, I’d be screwed!”
JT was nothing like any other potential boss Buddy had ever interviewed with. He was warm and friendly, fully aware of his weight and exuding some sort of pride over it. That made Buddy feel safe, and when questioned and challenged about some of his past accomplishments, the black lab found himself inspired to take some pride himself, excitedly gushing about a few work projects that earned him a few department awards He followed that up with confident questions about salary, work/life balance and career opportunities at BigWuff. That was enough to impress the wolf, who happily informed the black lab that his salary would be double what it was now, he’d be working a strict forty hours per week save for three two-week crunch periods and there were plenty of opportunities for him to really “throw his weight around” the company. After a few more minutes of pleasantries, the lupine shook his hand again and leaned in to whisper in the dog’s ear.
“We need more dogs around here,” JT quietly reassured him. “You’re easily the best candidate of the day, hopefully I’ll be giving you a call in a day or two.”
It took three days, but Mr. Wulv did indeed give Buddy a call with extremely good news: it was time to put in his two weeks’ notice and start a new career. The black lab did just that, and after some cursory onboarding, here he was, BigWuff’s newest employee. Buddy’s black-furred tail wagged the entire morning as he scarfed down a bowl of cereal, took a shower and put on his favorite sky-blue collared shirt, complementing it with a smart pair of khakis. A quick drive to campus - BigWuff’s location shaved fifteen minutes off Buddy’s daily commute, another plus - and the canine walked in the front door, asking the receptionist to buzz JT, who was to introduce him to the marketing department and get him acclimated to his new team.
Within two minutes, the always-chipper wolf, today wearing an olive-green suit with a cummerbund the size of a wrestling championship belt doing absolutely nothing to disguise his beach ball belly, warmly greeted Buddy to BigWuff, pulling him in for a softly overwhelming hug in the process. The black lab scratched at the white spot on his neck and upper chest, flustered, before following JT through the company. HR was closest to the entrance, then sales and management, with marketing taking up an entire wing at the rear of the building. When Buddy walked in, he immediately could tell why.
His entire work team stood in front of him, streamers taped to the ceiling reading “WELCOME BUDDY” and boxes of donuts sitting on a side table. The kindness and hospitality wasn’t what made the dog cock a floppy ear, though; it was what his work team was comprised of.
About a dozen furs stood in the office, and not a single one of them seemed to be under 300 pounds, with that being a very low estimate. JT was the fattest of them all, but he had some competition, especially from a tiger and rhino standing in the corner drinking coffee. The big cat put a lot of emphasis on being “big,” his polo shirt riding halfway up his middle, exposing soft white fur on his round, dipped belly and striped orange-black love handles on his back, while the rhino seemed to emphasize being a member of a bulky species, gleefully shoving a donut into his mouth, his belly-laugh at something the tiger said making his chest quake back and forth. It was like that for everyone; not only were the cougars and raccoons and penguins big and fat, but they all seemed to give exactly zero shits about it, proudly pigging out without care.
What’s more, they were all exceedingly happy to meet Buddy. As the red canine walked the black canine around the room, everyone welcomed him with wide smiles and hearty handshakes. Rachel, a very fashionable white rabbit, even offered him a donut, but the room exploded in mock outrage when Buddy mentioned he’d already had breakfast. A few joking boos and thumbs down later and the black lab allowed the strawberry-frosted donut to land in his paw, taking a bite out of the fist-sized treat. He sighed at the delicious, sugary taste, quickly cramming the rest of it in his mouth and swallowing quickly. It was that good.
Then JT handed him another.
“It’s your first day, Buddy, don’t be afraid to celebrate,” the wolf said with a smile. “We expect big things from you here.”
“Uh, JT, I appreciate it, but I’m trying to watch my figure,” the black lab hesitantly replied.
“Nonsense. Watch your figure? What for? Tell me that donut you had wasn’t delicious. Tell me you don’t want another,” JT said, his voice holding a tone of warm encouragement to it. “Here at BigWuff, we work hard and we play hard. If you want another donut, take it.”
Buddy hesitated for a moment before smiling and taking the treat from the wolf’s paw, gladly munching on it as he introduced himself to his new coworkers. He became so invested in the conversations that he didn’t even realize he finished the second donut, his empty paw reaching up to his muzzle as he took a bite of an invisible baked good. That only drew a round of laughter from his new coworkers, and his wolfy boss slyly nudged him in the side as everyone settled back in post-party to get back to work.
“Still plenty more if you want to indulge,” the extremely bad influence of a lupine told Buddy. Despite his best intentions to keep a strict diet, it only took a few more minutes before the black lab found his wandering paw grabbing a third as he began setting up his desk. Upon opening his work email for the first time, Buddy learned why there were so many donuts, also starting to understand why the place was called BigWuff.
As JT explained, BigWuff was primarily a marketing and advertising company with specialty in foodservice, meaning they were experts at selling pretty much any type of food for pretty much any company. Today, its new contract with Val’s Donuts, a regional bakery chain, started up. JT explained his strategy as marketing director.
“There’s no better way to sell something than when you love it yourself,” the wolf explained to the dog as he walked him through some basic onboarding procedures. “When I first started here about five years ago, I was assigned our BigBurgCo campaign on my first day. They were introducing a new line of specialty items with ridiculous flavor combinations, like the ‘Spicy Hawaiian Pineapple Burger’ and the ‘Tangy Mango Chutney Burger.’ I realized I had no way to describe the tastes without trying them myself, so I went out on my lunch break, bought one of everything, and spent the afternoon eating them all and taking notes. I’m still on the BigBurgCo account today because of that; our campaign for those burgers saw an eighteen percent spike in sales, and when I did the same thing for their Spicy Fries, it was their biggest new item debut ever. Since then, I’ve worked it into our contracts that we get extensive free samples of everything we work on. Sure, it means I’ve had to upsize my suits a few times, but it’s also made marketing the most valuable department here. We get three times as much foodservice business as any competitor.”
The wolf leaned in, making sharp eye contact with the dog. JT’s baby blues seemed to pierce through Buddy’s purples.
“Speaking of which, Buddy, I want you to mock up a few ads for those strawberry donuts you just had. Val’s is introducing new fruit-flavored muffins and donuts next month and sent over a bunch for us to sample. Could you get me ten sample lines of marketing copy and a few logo ideas? I’ll check in with you at noon and see what you’ve got.”
At first, Buddy had to fight off the fight-or-flight panic of his first assignment at his new job, but as he focused and got to work, he became increasingly confident. Sneaking back over to snag one more frosted treat, Buddy gnawed on it as he began writing. It was a lot easier than he expected. The sweet, creamy frosting, topped with thick pink sugar crystals, danced on his tongue, while the light, fluffy cake of the donut almost evaporated in his mouth. As he slowly munched it over the course of an hour, Buddy managed to write four paragraphs gushing about the white-and-pink donut before doodling two logos, one blocky one inspired by the sugar crystals and the other in light cursive, the light colors making Buddy think of fairies.
Only after he was done did Buddy feel a twinge in his stomach. He blushed when he realized he’d been goaded into eating four donuts on top of his breakfast, which was three more than he’d ever allowed himself to eat in one morning. But… was that really all so bad? He enjoyed them. Really, more than just “enjoyed,” they were all delicious. And when JT came over to check his work, the wolf clapped the black lab on the back and smiled broadly enough to show his thick canines.
“I knew you were the one, Buddy,” JT cheered. “This is all phenomenal. Your writing shows exactly why the taste-testing works, I can tell you loved every bite. And these logos! Brilliant! When I pitched Val’s, I mentioned we could try to market them hard or lightly, and this allows us to do either - or both! I’ll submit these to Val, and then the team’s gonna take you to lunch. I can tell why your last name is Goodboy, you nailed these!”
Maybe it was the effusive praise, maybe it was the dozen fatfurs surrounding him or maybe it was the way the beef sizzled on the grill at the hibachi restaurant, but despite his cereal and donuts, Buddy felt good as he chowed down on beef and broccoli and got to know his coworkers. When Jerry and Miriam, a fat fox and a fatter mouse, teased him about not finishing his plate, Buddy even found himself shoving the last few forkfuls of food into his mouth almost to spite them. Sure, it left him groaning and rubbing his stuffed gut on the drive back to work, but he was happy despite the mild nausea; it seemed like this was going to be the perfect fit for him.
The rest of the workday was a breeze, thanks to JT. As the red wolf put the department’s entire meal on the company credit card, he got a ping on his phone and read an email, cracking a wide grin as he scrolled through it. He stood up and moved behind Buddy, slapping both of his paws on the dog’s shoulders. Buddy tried not to blush too hard at the feeling of JT’s big wolfy gut pressing against the back of the chair.
“Everyone, thanks to Buddy here, Val’s Donuts just extended its promotional campaign! He’s only five hours into the new job and just cleared a contract extension, let’s give him a hand!”
To Buddy’s surprise, the entire table whooped in joy, everyone on the team warmly congratulating and thanking the black lab for his work. Buddy shyly waved in recognition.
“You all know what a contract extension means; you all get the afternoon off for a team activity,” JT continued, which explained why everyone was in such good spirits. Instead of heading back to the office, the red wolf guided everyone to a nearby movie theater, where he rented out a screening of the latest superhero movie for the crew. For the rest of the afternoon, Buddy couldn’t go five minutes without a backpat or strong encouragement from the team. A few folks even banded together to buy him a free large popcorn and soda for his hard work and success, which he tried to turn down but found himself peer-pressured into accepting. After the credits rolled, the team hung out for drinks at the theater’s bar before heading home.
Once he was back at his apartment, Buddy couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. In his first day at work - he could barely even call that a work day, he barely did anything - he not only won a contract extension but had proven himself to his coworkers, warmly lauded and recognized for his success. There was something else about it, though. For all his life, the dog had kept himself reasonably trim. Everyone started losing the battle at some point, but he had done well to stay in shape despite the hard work and sweat it required. But here he was in his new role, and not only were his new colleagues noticeably out of shape (and then some), they owned it, even were able to use it as an advantage, given the nature of their work. At first, Buddy poked at his middle with questioning, realizing he had eaten quite a lot more than he was used to between the donuts, the big lunch and the large popcorn and soda. If he wasn’t careful, he might end up as big as JT! But, considering the way the larger-than-life, charming lupine carried himself, would that be such a bad fate? Especially if Buddy finally had a chance to indulge to his heart’s content - and see that improve the quality of his work? He pushed the thought out of his head for now, figuring it was a bridge he’d cross when he came to it, but that night, he had a dream about being as big and thick as JT - and belly-bumping his fellow colossal canine.
After the first day at BigWuff, Buddy found himself quickly acclimating to the way the office operated. He appreciated the way his coworkers worked. To the untrained eye, they would look lazy, even irresponsible, but Buddy quickly sussed out that the video games and streaming music in the office were prime opportunities for them to find inspiration and play around with new approaches to ideas. At the end of the day, deadlines were met and projects reached completion, so who was he to criticize their work ethic? The black lab found the occasional karaoke interludes and kart-racing challenges helped break up the work day, serving as nice little breaks to keep his mind fresh.
It didn’t hurt that Buddy kept the Val’s Donuts contract. He was overjoyed when JT reported the good news to him for a few separate reasons. On the one hand, it was his first client and they reportedly loved his work, giving him motivation to continue giving them his all; on another hand, the quality of the donuts, muffins and other baked goods they sent him made the work a breeze, the taste combinations of the harvest peach and vanilla blueberry donuts almost writing the marketing copy themselves; and, of course, yet another hand held an unlimited supply of fruit-flavored donuts for Buddy to gorge upon to his heart’s content, endless boxes strewn around the office and, not long after, his desk.
To the dog’s slight disappointment, normal work days didn’t quite live up to the hype of the first one, though he understood it wasn’t likely to get free lunch and movies on the company’s dime. Still, working for the company had its perks. If he wanted soda, juice or water, the employee fridge was stocked with free drinks. Same with a pantry packed with snacks, not to mention all the free food from clients. Half the work day involved eating something and studying how best to sell it, a job that Buddy found he was quite adept at. Every time he turned in something for the Val’s account, they loved it, winning him another round of praise from his boss. Within a week, the black lab was completely confident in having job security; in two, he half-expected to win Employee of the Month.
A third week passed and that was exactly what happened.
The entire company came out to the lobby for a major presentation where, who else, JT took the mic. Based on the grumbling from every other department and the jokey laughing from everyone in Marketing, it had been a while since a non-marketing employee took home the award. Then the fat wolf started talking.
“Folks, just weeks ago, we had the pleasure of welcoming Buddy Goodboy to BigWuff, and in that short amount of time, he’s already extended a major contract so far out, he paid for his own first-year salary. That’s what I call success. I’d like to offer this month’s award to Buddy. Could you come up here?”
Seconds later, Buddy stood with JT, grinning happily, as the wolf cut him a check. He took one look and gasped - that was a month’s salary. Of course, it came with stipulations.
“You’re catering lunch for us today, it’s an unwritten department rule. Pick somewhere good,” the wolf said with a shit-eating grin.
An hour later, the marketing department stood in front of a table piled high with a dozen party-sized pizzas, bottles of soda and boxes of Val’s donuts lining them on each side. Buddy was itching for pizza, so he decided to fulfill that urge, and it appeared his coworkers approved. They all gathered around a conference table and ate to their heart’s content, Buddy emboldened by his recent successes to test his appetite. Subconsciously, the black lab tried to keep up with JT, watching his massive wolfy boss take down slices like he was chewing gum and trying to follow suit, getting an impressive twelve pieces down his gullet before he started feeling full. His efforts had caught JT’s attention, though, and the wolf called him out in front of his fellow teammates.
“Hey Buddy, bet you can’t take down a half-dozen donuts before I can clear a box,” the wolf teased, handing a half-full box to the dog and grabbing an entire one for himself. Despite the gurgling in his gut, Buddy decided to take his boss’s challenge head-on, deciding to try and binge as quickly as possible, feeling further encouraged by his coworkers’ excited yelps of approval when he flipped the box open with a flourish. Facing off against a wolf who looked like he could eat an entire supermarket, Buddy didn’t like his chances at first, but found JT was purposely lagging to give him a win in front of his team. Within ten minutes, the last donut went into his significantly swollen gut, and Buddy took a sharp breath in, only to hear a loud shriPING sound around his middle. He looked down to find a string of white undershirt was puffing between a gap in his button-down, the gap having developed due to his fat gut growing too large for his clothes.
Buddy suddenly realized what JT was doing, and what BigWuff meant for his future. For the first time, the dog was distinctly aware of a dough-like mound pressing out from his middle, enough that it caught around his shirt. When he looked down, there was a round curve sitting plumply right on his middle, leaving an impression in his figure. His khakis felt tight, but it was the way his shirt caught specifically - it might have been something to do with its fit - that made him pop a button.
Everyone in the office whooped and cheered at the telltale sound, but as Buddy prepared for some mean-hearted teasing, he instead got applause, laughter and a few high-fives. He quickly learned that the “First Pop,” as the marketing department liked to call it, was a milestone every new hire hit within their first two months on the job. As Buddy had accurately guessed, it quickly became a known fact throughout the business that the staff in the far offices would get fat, and significantly so. The sheer amounts of food, combined with long hours and work requiring a lot of sitting at desks, caused employees’ weights to skyrocket. JT was the first case, as the wolf showed the dog as he polished off the last of his dozen donuts with a chuckle and a belch. The fat lupine held up his phone and began scrolling through his photo gallery. There he was on his first day at the company, skinny as a rail; three months later, he carried an extra thirty pounds due to his unorthodox working style; another three months later and he was thoroughly fat, his belly stretching his largest shirt as he proudly accepted the “Marketer of the Year” award at the company Christmas party. From then on, the wolf climbed the ranks as his weight climbed into the 300s, then the 400s, and just six years later, here he stood at three times his starting size.
The supportive audience around him was only half of what made Buddy’s spin; it was also the first time he’d been encouraged to indulge and give in, and judging by his work, he was succeeding flawlessly. Everything he turned in for Val’s was a smashing success. He was lucky to have a Val’s Donuts near his apartment, and every time he drove by, those were his logos plastered to the front windows! His success was to the point where JT was ramping Buddy up for a second contract, this one focused on an Italian restaurant chain. They were workshopping their Extra Servings Pasta Bowls, JT told him, and were seeking a creative mind to guide their artistic direction.
If Buddy had a problem with gaining weight, he could have noped out of BigWuff well before now. From the very first day he joined the company, up to getting put on the Val’s account, then the popped buttons, the black lab realized he’d already willingly passed by all of his opportunities to hop off the S.S. Fat Dog. Instead, sitting there with a bulging, donut-stuffed gut that threatened to expand ever-larger, knowing his wardrobe would soon be all but incapable of properly dressing him, Buddy knew he was past the point of no return. And that fact made him smile.
“I’d love to take the Vintinucci’s account,” Buddy said, performatively smacking his belly. It was still a starter belly, only about two inches off his middle, but seeing as it was already enough to pop a button, he knew this would only be the start.
Subconsciously, Buddy hadn’t stopped the cavalcade of calories because he had a feeling he’d finally found his place. After years of stumbling through life, carried by the winds to middling jobs and not much else, Buddy was in search of something stable, something he could grow into. The pun about growth aside - the punchline was clearly visible on his widening waistline - Buddy found his calling in his new job. The canine had somehow found a niche where he was happy, successful, surrounded by friendly faces and comfortable, not only to be himself but to indulge himself. What was a little peer pressure from his coworkers to have another donut or join them for a gut-busting lunch at the buffet when he’d been peer-pressured for decades by society at large to kill himself on the treadmill and reward himself with a salad, no dressing? Sure, BigWuff did things differently, but it was the kind of different Buddy could vibe with. His paychecks were doubled, his successes were multiplying, his social life with his coworkers was growing exponentially… so he really could have cared less that he was starting to pack on the pounds. Plus, from the very first time Buddy saw JT, he had been subconsciously admiring the wolf for his larger-than-life stature and the confidence with which he carried it around. The red lupine’s gregarious nature clearly rubbed off on his staff, too, given the cheery, smiling faces around the office and the kindness and hospitality Buddy’d been shown since that fateful first day. Looking at the wolf’s photos, he couldn’t help but imagine achieving a level of success similar to JT Wulv, Director of Marketing… and the weight he’d get to throw around alongside it.
The full extent of just a month’s worth of growth became clear once Buddy left work for the day, a chatty chubby cheetah friend of his in Animation texting him a congratulatory screenshot from the company’s announcement press release, penned by JT himself. Front and center, there was a picture of the blushing Buddy accepting the check from the wobbling wolf… and he could see a distinct curve in his middle and hitches in his pants as they tried to hold his bulk. Tried and later failed, he reminded himself, poking at his own fleshy middle, remembering the relief he felt when that button burst off. Speaking of which, a lot of his shirts were feeling a lot more snug these days. While he was thinking about it, the dog checked his email and found his last clothing order - mostly Larges. With a smile on his face, Buddy placed another order, with all the same shirts… only in XL this time.
And a few XXLs, just in case Vintinucci’s pasta bowls were especially fattening. Pasta did tend to stick to his hips.
From then on, when Buddy walked into work, he felt like it was his second home. Once he’d made his decisions and decided to follow JT down the path of being a corpulent canine, any remaining barriers between the black lab and being the best employee he could be vanished into thin air. From the moment he stepped in the door until he walked back out, whether it was the end of the day or he was following coworkers to happy hour at that great craft brewery, the one that always had the pizza truck sitting in the parking lot, Buddy was happy. Dedicated. Enthused. Engaged. Enthralled. JT’s methods were quite unorthodox, but they made for a quite effective strategy, Buddy quickly discovered.
If Val’s Donuts was Buddy’s rookie season, his work with Vintinucci’s was about as far from a sophomore slump as a fur could get. After a morning of donuts to finish up a side project for Val’s, JT walked in the door, his suit looking even more skintight around a beanbag-shaped gut than ever before, with a cart full of what looked like steaming buckets. Buddy quickly realized the Extra Servings Pasta Bowl was properly named. Giant piles of chicken alfredo, sausage carbonara and beef stroganoff drowned in creamy, greasy, fatty and delicious sauces, piles of protein sitting atop seas of noodles. Loosely lifting a “bowl” of chicken parmesan, Buddy took it back to his desk and grabbed a fork, digging in and taking notes as he chewed on huge bites of breaded chicken and pasta slathered in a thick tomato sauce. At first, the meal was bland, but it began to open up once he made it past the surface of the bowl and got into the meat of the dish, both literally and figuratively.
It was the “extra servings” of the dish that really separated it from the crowd, Buddy found. The most impressive part of the pasta bowl? It retained its consistency, whether someone plunged their fork right into the top of the dish or they didn’t get a scoop until it was more than halfway empty. As he continued to shovel pasta into his mouth, Buddy was able to taste some subtle spices that may have otherwise gotten lost in the mix. It wasn’t until more than halfway down that he realized the true magic of the bowl was how the juices and sauce dripped down gradually through the bucket-sized container, only becoming more tasty and flavorful as he went. By the time he finished every bite, Buddy had nearly three pages of notes he was ready to craft into exceptional marketing copy.
It was at that moment the dog’s middle cried out because he had just crammed roughly three and a half pounds of chicken and pasta into his middle, which now pressed out against his shirt, another of the size-Ls. It threatened to meet the same fate as yesterday’s, the black lab able to feel the fabric visibly groaning whenever he took a deep breath, the fasteners keeping the shirt wrapped around his middle tightly. At first, Buddy felt regret at slamming down such a heavy, belly-stretching meal, but as he took deep breaths and felt his flab rise and fall, he decided to own the occasion. Making sure his boss, and the rest of his coworkers, could see him, Buddy unsteadily walked over and grabbed a second bucket, this one chicken alfredo, before taking it back to his desk and robotically forcing himself to eat even more of it. He knew he wasn’t going to finish the whole thing, but stuffing himself to the point of bursting led to three new developments. First, he was able to jot down a fourth page of notes before nearly five pounds of pasta, a ridiculous carbo-load, made him sit back in his chair, his eyes half-lidded. Second, when he took a deep breath and massaged his gut, two buttons pinged off his hard, round belly. Finally, after he managed to recover enough to finish the work day and head home, JT intercepted him, the wolf whisking him into his office.
“So, uh, Buddy, I knew your work ethic was great, but I don’t want you hurting yourself,” the wide wolf said once inside. “You’ve got a full month before your first deadline, and here you are, eating like you’ve got my… well, you know.” He gestured to his entire body. “If you push too hard, you’re gonna burn yourself out, or make yourself sick. Or both.”
“I just wanted to show everyone I’m committed to the team,” Buddy replied after a second to process the situation. “I guess I got a little too carried away. I wanted to impress everyone, show them what I could do.”
JT smiled, though he seemed to wince slightly too.
“Buddy, you’ve already shown us everything you can do,” the wolf said. “When most folks win Employee of the Month before they’ve even logged an actual month here, they’d take that as a sign they’re in the right place. And you’re definitely in the right place. We’ve got a lot of talent here, but, well, I see myself in you, back when I started here. Ready. Raring to go. Pushing yourself past your limits. It’s why I hired you, but I gotta tell you something. After my first six months here, I almost quit.”
Buddy raised an eyebrow, silently requesting the wolf to go on.
“It was right around Christmas,” JT said. “I had taken on too much work too soon. I asked to take on four accounts at once. I was taking time off to see my folks, so there was hardcore holiday crunch keeping me at my desk nonstop. Add on the overtime from my “volunteering” and the limitless food at my paws, I was doing nothing but eating, working and sleeping. I think I gained fifty pounds in a month, I just blew up. I’d sleep under my desk and find myself sleep-eating when I woke up, it got so ingrained in me.”
Buddy’s eyes widened. For the last month, he’d conditioned himself to do exactly that.
“So I finally got out for holiday break. I head home to visit my parents, carrying a good hundred extra pounds, and they go off on me. I try to explain it’s part of work and they tell me to quit my job, that just because I’m getting paid well I can’t do this to myself. At first I didn’t listen, but I got comments the entire week home. Parents, sister, grandparents, cousins and uncles, friends. Between the burnout, my parents putting me on a diet - they hid the eggnog on me during Christmas! - and my old childhood oversized hoodie being the only thing I could fit into, I actually wrote up my resignation letter.”
“But you’re still here.”
“Because when I got back here, I told myself I’d give it one week until I quit. When I walked in the front door, my boss pulled me into his office. He took me off two of my four accounts immediately, gave me a bonus and told me to take the week off. He told me there’s being focused and dedicated, then there’s killing yourself for no reason. They’d found my makeshift bed under my desk and told me that was unacceptable… because I did it to myself. I still remember it vividly. ‘We love having you here,’ he told me, ‘and I don’t want you to ruin yourself by giving 150 percent when you’re already working yourself like a dog.’ So, canine to canine, I wanted you to get the same advice, well before I needed the wake-up call.. You’re doing great. You don’t need to push yourself. You’re already doing great.”
Buddy nodded his head and understood. It made a lot of sense. Plus, the dog knew he was pushing past his limits; it was good for JT to step in before it got any worse. He was thankful to have a good boss. The black lab got up to leave, his stomach still radiating twinges as it tried to digest all that food.
“Plus, button-popping is too easy,” the wolf said, just as Buddy reached the doorway. That was enough to perk up his ear and turn back to the lupine, who was smiling earnestly.
“Oh, believe me, I saw your face when I walked into your interview,” JT said. “That was the other reason I hired you. You seemed infinitely more likely to accept the, well, bigger benefits of working under me. Most folks scoff or even laugh, but you took me seriously. I know you didn’t ask for tips, but, well… don’t glut yourself all at once, try to snack all day instead. Don’t chase goals, let it happen naturally. And button-popping is for amateurs. Just gets you to stuff yourself sick. Go for rips and tears instead, you can’t chase them so they’re always fun surprises.”
Buddy didn’t really know what to say, so he simply shot the wolf a thumbs-up and scooted out the door. Getting fat for the job was something he’d grown to accept, no pun intended, but JT wasn’t just giving him advice about managing his workload; Buddy realized he’d been welcoming the weight onto himself.
After getting home that night and immediately collapsing into a food coma from all those carbs, Buddy woke up and really noticed the way his belly was growing in a way he hadn’t before. For the first time, he felt like he was bigger and thicker. Wherever he grabbed, he could pinch and grab handfuls of flab. He figured he’d check himself out for the first time in quite a while and went to the bathroom, taking his shirt off to survey the damage. There was no mistaking the round, softening belly he had sprouted, but his black fur seemed to create creases and folds into itself that almost challenged light. Surprisingly, the worst of the damage wasn’t focused in his middle but just below the belt; he was growing into a pear-shaped dog, his hips developing into thick, jiggling love handles and his thighs deepening as they grew rounder, his rear also swelling into quite the cushion. Moobs began to sprout from his chest, making the white v-shaped patch of fur there sharper between them; a double-chin coming in on his chubby face only added contrast for the white fur on his neck, too.
Buddy didn’t feel ashamed or even self-conscious about the somewhere between fifty to sixty pounds he’d gained in the last few months alone, the sprouting fat quickly turning him into a heavyweight. He was quite proud of it, in fact. It was a monument to a lot of hard work. And if there’s anything about black labs, they thrive on hard work. In fact, Buddy’s biggest problem wasn’t that he had gotten fat; it was that he knew it was nothing compared to how big he’d be in another year or two.
Following JT’s advice, Buddy set a few ground rules for himself. He decided to let it happen, “it” being startling weight gain, but didn’t set any goals other than “bigger.” That way, he would be able to appreciate himself, and his gains, for what they were at any given time. If he felt full, he would stop eating; if he didn’t feel hungry, he didn’t have to eat. Instead of shoveling a pasta bowl into his mouth or trying to see how many donuts he could keep down in one sitting, Buddy instead adopted a model of constant grazing whenever he was eating. To his surprise, it worked wonders; he was finishing just as much, if not a little more, than he normally would eat, now without massive stomachaches or long periods of indigestion. With his sharply growing appetite, between the stomach-stretching binges and the daily calorie counts in the high thousands, the black lab was able to adapt quickly. Before long, he was always eating and always hungry, which quickly paid dividends.
Oh, and he was going to keep wearing his too-tight clothing. A few days after JT’s pep talk, the black lab bent down to retrieve a pen, only to hear his pants split apart across the rear. Now that felt like a true accomplishment - and he didn’t even have to fight for it. Freeing himself from the rigid constraints of numbers and goals allowed Buddy to truly experience and enjoy the gaining process. The numbers were still going up, yes, but he would check in on them when he had time. Meanwhile, he’d enjoy all the delicious food he could stomach alongside his fellow fat friends. It had been quite a while since he’d been allowed to live on his own terms, so he simply allowed that to continue happening. It was fun. He loved his job, and it was giving him a new purpose, almost a new identity. At the very least, he was seeing things that used to be negatives as positives. When someone called him “big guy,” he took it as a compliment. If he got an odd look from HR during an all-hands meeting, he smiled back, killing them with kindness. He was bringing in a lot more for the company than they were paying him, after all; who cared if he was fat? (During Buddy’s three-month review, JT noticed the discrepancy as well. “I’ll take care of this,” the wolf promised the dog. A few days later, when Buddy checked his bank account post-payday, he almost fainted. Then smiled, his tail wagging. He would take the team out to the buffet tomorrow.)
The days started to bleed together after that point, and why wouldn’t they? The black lab had settled into a routine, a winning one, a successful one. Wake up. Shower, every day getting to find a new curve, roll or fold sprouting on the side of his belly or his middle back as he lathered up. Get dressed, taking stock of which shirts were still too large and which ones fit his current size. (If they were too small, he’d wear them anyway, knowing he wouldn’t even need to chase a button pop and it would happen naturally that day.) Head to work on an empty stomach, ready for a morning full of muffins, donuts, crullers, or whatever else Val’s was planning a new campaign around, writing marketing copy and designing graphics whenever something struck his fancy. Lunch would usually be a Extra Servings Bucket, though sometimes the dog’s coworkers would go out to get something to eat. The afternoon was generally pretty slow and sleepy as the calories caught up with him, but Buddy would manage to rally by the mid-afternoon, munching on snacks as he edited and cleaned up his work. After clocking out, if his coworkers didn’t have bar trivia or a happy hour planned, he’d head home, feasting on another Extra Servings Bucket before hitting the hay.
It was an easy, comfortable existence, and while the days didn’t seem to change, Buddy certainly was. Considering JT’s advice, the black lab quickly found himself agreeing with his red wolf boss; when it came to fattening up, slow and steady was a much more enjoyable pace than fast and loose. It wasn’t just the food comas and stomach discomfort that were dissipating, it was that the entire experience became less of a challenge or game and more of a gradual transformation of self. Not just physically, but mentally. It wasn’t that he felt heavier every day, per se, but more how that weight felt on him, and his reaction to it.
At home, one weekend, he sat down on his computer chair and promptly sent wheels and pieces of metal splintering across the room, landing on his fat ass with a loud plop. Once he shook off the experience and made sure he was OK, he checked the chair, only to find it had a warning against users weighing more than 275 pounds. Wait, WHAT? When Buddy took the job… he checked his phone to see how long it had been… five months ago, he weighed somewhere around 175. The realization that he’d grown by more than fifty percent of his initial body weight shocked him. It was such a stark contrast, almost like speed-running the slow, creeping weight gain of a career spent behind a desk, that it broke him out of the day-to-day lull he’d allowed to become his life. That was eye-opening to him, and he quickly waddled to the bathroom, excited to see how much damage he’d done. (He lost track of exactly when, but a week or two ago, he noticed his thighs were so damn thick they touched and rubbed each other unless he actively made them bow out. At this point he saw that as a plus, not a negative.)
Buddy’s first instinct was to hop on the scale, before realizing his folly upon standing on it; when he looked down, the only thing he could see was a large, curved black lump hanging off his middle, one that stretched from thickened hip to thickened hip. He grabbed its sides with his paws and shook it, smiling as he watched the excess flab jiggle and shake like a Jell-O mold, before realizing he was still standing on the scale, and still needed to know what it said. The black lab fished his phone out of his pocket and opened its camera app, surprised to see just how full his face had become as it took up nearly the entire horizontal screen. He took a few seconds to appreciate just how round and thick his jowls and cheeks had become, the way the extra weight on his face and head made his fur look even fluffier than before, how they made him look like an overfed housepet. Taking a quick note at how his growing double chin made his white patch of fur look wider, and the way that contrast with the black fur looked welcoming, he finally fought off the distractions and set the camera’s sights on the scale.
282 pounds.
For a split second, Buddy was paralyzed by the sheer contrast between the past version of himself that rarely had much more than a dad bod and the present version of himself that oozed plus-sized pup. Then he turned to look at himself in the mirror and realized the change was nothing but an improvement. It wasn’t just the weight, though the dog’s occasional fantasies of letting himself go were nothing compared to the real deal staring him in the face, but it was the confidence and experience that weight represented. Being so big physically fed into his mental state, making him confident and secure. Being confident and secure about being so big added to his happiness and inspired him to get even bigger.
Speaking of which… five minutes later, the dog relaxed in his boxers on the couch, relishing the sensation of just how much space he was taking up. When he sat down, his butt splayed across the fabric twice as far as before; when he laid down, propping himself up on a side cushion, he watched his thighs widen at the bottom, his gut sitting large and heavy taking up the majority of his lap. He smiled and sunk the spoon back into the carton of ice cream balanced on his belly, relishing the taste on his tongue. To think Buddy used to fret about eating half a pint of Ben and Jerry’s in one sitting! Now, he saw the full carton of cookies and cream as a challenge. Sure, JT told him slow and steady, but there were few things that felt as strangely sublime as a belly stuffed full of ice cream. These days, though, one carton was barely enough to fill him up. If he really wanted to make sure he achieved his goal, he’d have to get a second one out of the freezer. Eh, he thought, he’d make that call when he finished the first one.
When JT pulled Buddy in for his six-month review, the wolf winked at the dog when he walked in the door. The wolf’s desk was empty of documents and computer screens, instead playing host to stacks and piles of fast food bags nearly two feet high. JT didn’t really need to critique anything the dog was doing, as Buddy’s work remained stellar. The two corpulent canines were happy to spend the hour gorging themselves and comparing stories about gluttony, Buddy regaling JT with what happened when an ex found him at the grocery store, his cart full of nothing but junk food.
“They couldn’t stop looking at my gut, but they were way too kind to say anything about it,” the black lab said. “So I eventually just smiled and said ‘oh yeah, by the way, I got fat!’”
“Haha, excellent,” JT replied. “By the way, we’re hitting holiday rush soon. I need to go over a few things with you.”
It turned out that Val’s and Ventinucci’s were ending their respective ad campaigns, as they’d signed up for six-month stints and weren’t going to re-up… until the new year. In the meantime, JT trusted no one but Buddy to take their new clients. It was going to be a marathon through to Christmas, but the black lab confidently nodded his head to the idea of taking on the Eggland’s Eggnog, Caroline’s Candycanes and National Cheesecake, Ltd. accounts all at once. They were all just three-month contracts, but represented a significant deal to BigWuff’s bottom line, to the point where JT said Buddy’s work could end up boosting the office’s average holiday bonus by 25 percent. The wolf told the black lab he trusted him more than anyone else in the building and that he had his full support.
“You had me at eggnog,” Buddy replied, mentally reminding himself to order some more shirts a few sizes up, given that he was walking into a weight gain tornado. Thick, creamy dairy, sharp, sugary candy and rich, fattening cheesecake for three months straight. Buddy mentally asked himself if this was gainer Christmas, before laughing when he realized yes, it kind of was!
To say the new project was a sea change for Buddy would be an understatement; he realized all too late the secret challenges represented by a constant daily sugar rush, not to mention taking on three new contracts when he was normally accustomed to two. Eggnog, candy canes and cheesecake were a destructive combination, all of them causing the dog some discomfort. The eggnog was so thick and heavy (Eggland loved to triple-whip it) that Buddy would need to pause and relax between glasses. The candy canes, when not fur-ripping sticky, were sharp and full of empty calories, the black lab just as often impatiently crunching them to bits as licking them. Add in an endless supply of cheesecake, and factor in that none of these foods had enough protein to fill him up, and Buddy found himself frequently overstuffed and uncomfortable while his stomach still cried out for more food.
This seemingly endless hunger, combined with dense food filled with empty calories, was one problem; the demands of the projects were another. Though JT, the good boss he was, put some safeguards in place to protect the black lab from burnout, taking on three new clients was still a significant challenge. It seemed there were barely enough hours in the workday for him to down a half-gallon of eggnog, three boxes of candy canes and two cheesecakes per day, despite the bloated stomach and swelling appetite he’d fostered to this point. Buddy found himself sneaking food out of the office to “work from home,” needing to cram down an extra cheesecake and taking notes before falling victim to a food coma. Well, he didn’t need to; he wanted to. It counted as billable hours, anyway, so who was he to complain?
While it was a challenge to stomach all that food, Buddy did see the advantages in doing so, namely that he was growing at an even faster rate than ever before. Limiting himself to weighing in once a week, he found that between the thick, nutmeg-flavored eggnog, the endless supply of sugary candy and especially the cheesecake so layered and rich that he found himself craving it at most hours of the day, he found he was gaining almost two pounds a day, meaning every week he was making significant gains.
Though the days were sometimes tiring, bleeding into each other at a rate he hadn’t previously experienced, the slow, formidable growth of his own body kept Buddy happy and moving forward, even as his belly started losing its fight with gravity, brushing against his thighs when he sat and altering his gait when he waddled around. That wasn’t a huge problem, though; between suspenders and the endless cycle of his shirts’ buttons tightening around his middle, propping it up until said buttons disappeared into the ether, the black lab was more than willing to adjust to the changes as they happened.
It was worth it. His campaign work for Eggland, Caroline and the National Ltd. never dipped below the peaks he hit with Val’s and Ventinucci’s, to the point where JT called him in for a meeting at the one-month mark and only had positive things to say about the canine’s work. His work and personal lives were flourishing, especially when Miriam clued him in about a small, but growing, app she made intended to connect plus-sized furs; while he decided not to agree to any dates until after the holidays, when his first focus wouldn’t have to be work, Buddy was happy to flirt and chat with others who agreed that bigger was better.
Once his weight gain reached the point of near-exponential growth, the black lab was only more encouraged by the decision, even as the realities of being large-and-in-charge became more apparent. He was getting heavy at this point, but he barreled through. His black fur covering all the new, curved gains make him look like melted chocolate ice cream, especially around the hips and over the waistband; when at home, Buddy started wearing khakis and no shirt specifically to add to that kind of look. It went over especially well once he posted a few pictures on Miriam’s app; the love was so overwhelming he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face if he tried.
Time passed, project deadlines came and went and Buddy’s life became a sea of profitable gluttony, the results showing all over his face… and the rest of him. Those chubby cheeks became anchors on his face, endless dimples spreading whenever he smiled, which was often; his surging shoulders and thickening neck only became more defined when his double chin sprouted into a triple-chin; his gut heaved further down and further around almost by the day, Buddy increasingly noticing its spread further down his thighs every time he sat down. Creaks from under his gelatinous butt one afternoon caused his coworkers to hurriedly bring him a reinforced chair; a week later, the even-fatter dog drew cheers from his coworkers as he planted himself in the older, weaker chair, allowing it to again splinter and shatter underneath his bulk.
As Buddy grew, so did his appetite and his courage to eat more, spurring yet more growth in the canine. His weight and waistline skyrocketed to ridiculous heights, but given the sea of encouragement he got from his coworkers, his boss (who was more like a mentor at this point) and the success of his hard work, that was only more of a benefit to him. To the point where, one afternoon, he stepped into JT’s office, causing the wolf to break out into a huge smile. Part of JT’s amusement was that Buddy wore a suit easily three sizes too small, the elastic waistband of the pants and the few buttons that would fasten on his shirt screaming for help, the coat seemingly painted onto his shoulders. The other part was that the dog carried five cheesecakes in his paws, and the gluttonous wolf knew his protege was challenging him to a contest.
Two hours later, the panting wolf and exhausted dog sat across from each other, their guts swollen with two-and-a-half cheesecakes each, the lupine impressed that the canine achieved a tie. Buddy’s pants were in tatters around his waist, having ripped down the seams; his thick black gut splayed across his lap all the way to his knees, the blubber having destroyed every button, the white patch of fur on his chest stretched as his moobs began to bleed into it; his jacket split down the back, leaving sleeves and fabric tailing behind him. JT could see it in Buddy’s eyes, even as he huffed and panted to digest his massive cheesecake. He wasn’t just a big dog, but a Big Dog. Buddy internalized everything BigWuff, and the big wolf, stood for. The impromptu “meeting” quickly became a true meeting as JT pitched a concept to Buddy and the black lab readily accepted.
A week later, the holidays finally arrived, meaning the end-of-year party for BigWuff was a go. It was a phenomenal event, with the company’s leaders pulling out all the stops, renting out a local restaurant’s banquet hall and stocking it with as much catering as was left in the budget. A sea of festive, cheery furs partied, drank and enjoyed themselves, with the marketing team a little saddened by the absence of JT and Buddy, their fearless, and bottomless, leaders.
“HO HO HO!”
Just then, two corpulent canines walked in the door, JT clad in a Santa outfit that was just barely big enough to fit him - he certainly fit the role of being the “Big Man” - and Buddy wearing antlers, a red nose and a jingling harness over his suit. The wolf and dog shook jingle bells and caroled as they wandered the banquet hall, handing out envelopes marked “Do Not Open… Yet.” Finally, once everyone had mail, JT and Buddy waddled to the center of the room, the wolf taking a microphone from one of the caterers.
“Alright, everyone, open your envelopes,” JT said with a smile as wide as his waistline. BigWuff employees extended claws to do as they were told, pulling out… bonus checks. Bonus checks in the mid-four digits. Whoops of joy sounded throughout the room, all eyes on JT and Buddy.
“As you may have noticed, our year-end bonuses this year are about twice what they were last year,” the wolf said before patting Buddy on the shoulder. “And it’s all thanks to this woofer right here. Buddy joined us earlier this year and he embodies everything a BigWuff employee should strive to be. He works hard, is always focused on his job and has made our company better. Plus, he’s gotten five contract extensions in one year, which will definitely help keep the lights on.”
JT paused, giving his fat friend time to drink in the moment.
“That’s why I’m happy to announce Buddy will be taking on the role of Assistant Marketing Director in the New Year. Get used to seeing our fat faces around; we’ve got big things planned. Three cheers for Buddy!”
As a crowd of coworkers loudly applauded and chanted his name, Buddy felt chills. He never thought anything like this would happen to him. He was big, bold, brash and beautiful. He loved his work, he loved his life, he loved himself.
And, eyeing a cheesecake on a side table, he couldn’t wait to add even more of himself to love.