December 2024: The Big Nine- Dasher

Dasher was the fastest reindeer on the team for years, but after hanging out with Donner for a while, he's picked up more than a few bad habits that are hard to beat. Enjoy!

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"C'mon, Dash, c'mon…! After this you're getting snickerdoodles and a nap, snickerdoodles and a nap…"

Being one of Santa's reindeer was hard work, Dasher thought ruefully. He was cursing his own lack of willpower, and hanging out with Donner. At least he still felt skinny next to him— but the big man himself was looking skinny next to Dasher. The fastest one on the team, reduced to this— one of his stretched out race shirts clinging to his wide apron of a belly, the huge, snow ball shaped mass bouncing with each plodding step and his doughy chest fluttering with pained, labored breaths. 

He had made one lap. One. Oh, the embarrassment of it all— a few years of taking care of extra cookies and then months-long vacations after the big night, and no amount of cardio in the world could fight off the extra weight he had piled on. He had committed on January to lose the weight, and here he was, two weeks before Christmas and twenty pounds heavier. His barrel-thick thighs wobbled and rolled off one another as he trotted along, his arms, swaddled in fat, wobbled, and the two hemispheres of his enormous rear bounced and swung with the shifting weight of his body, nearly spilling out of his track shorts. 

He finally slowed to a stand still as he reached the finish line, grasping needily for his thermos of hot chocolate and drinking it in deeply. A small voice in the back of his head was warning him that if he was really serious about losing weight, he would drop the cookies for some carrots, for once. But he knew all too well that an athlete needed motivation— and surely after all the work he had just put in to run the track, he deserved a treat, right? Tomorrow, he'd start dieting more properly. Of course, Donner wanted to have lunch tomorrow… but he could fight the temptation. It'd be good practice, after all— all those extra cookies after the big run would be piling up in heaps around the pole, just waiting for someone to take a bite…