Dad Bod to Father Figure- Part 2

Bandit's been piling on the weight, and discovers more and more that it's not such a bad thing for him. Thankfully, Chili seems to agree. Enjoy!

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Christmas had come and gone for the Heelers, and before school started for Bluey and Bingo, they had a few weeks of summer camp— bittersweet words for their father, Bandit. On the one hand, his two precious girls would be away for three weeks, two spent at a camp and another week with their grandparents. But on the other hand, his two girls would be away for three whole weeks.

For the first time in ages, he woke up naturally, hefting himself out of bed around ten. The other big change in Bandit's life was almost entirely due to the new next door neighbor, Baron— the two had become fast friends, and Baron, also a work-from-home dad, had left a big impression on Bandit, somewhere in the ballpark of three hundred pounds and counting. Shifting around with a heavy belly that had grown exponentially with the constant holiday feasting, especially Baron's truly decadent Christmas barbecues, Bandit squeezed himself into the bathroom and tried sucking in his gut— not out of any sense of denial, but practicality— he couldn't read the number, otherwise.

"That's another five pounds…" he muttered. "Well. That's not too much, really." The overfed canine shrugged it off. He had been feeling oddly sanguine about the weight that had been piling on; he had been reassuring himself for months that he'd get back to the gym, that he would make dieting his new year's resolution, but he had been thinking about that less and less, lately. Well, he wasn't going to get healthier by depriving himself of breakfast.

Bandit hummed as he moved down to the kitchen, sifting through the fridge to grab a large slab of bacon and half a dozen eggs, some waffles with chocolate chips for good measure. He had to spread it out on three separate plates, and a large cup of coffee with extra cream and sugar to finish it off. He hummed as he looked it over, satisfied with the spread he had made for himself, and settled into a chair— it creaked ominously, but it had been doing that for a while, now. Bandit shifted his weight, his belly pressing into the table top, and then he started to dig in. The waffles he had cooked to a nice, golden brown, thanks to a trick that Baron had shown him. He savored the smell for a moment before he really attacked them, drenching them in chocolate syrup for that extra little touch. After mopping up the last bit of syrup, and already starting to feel a touch full, he let out a contented sigh— but then, the cheer groaned again, louder than before, followed by a snap. Bandit hit the floor all at once, cushioned by the excess weight packed on to his round rear, but he stared up at the kitchen ceiling in a state of shock. He had just broken a chair— he was so fat, he was reducing his own furniture to splinters. His immediate thought was he should feel utterly ashamed; all this reckless eating, no dieting or proper exercise, he had really let himself go… then, he started laughing.

"Well, Bandit old boy, look at what you just pulled off… quite an accomplishment, if I do say so myself. Chili was wanting a new kitchen chair set, and I've given her the perfect excuse. Husband of the year, eh?" Bandit chuckled to himself, grunting as he gripped the table and pulled himself back up, with considerable effort. He huffed, catching his breath and looking at the damage. The laughter wore off as he looked over the splintered chair; Chili would be at work for hours. But he did know Baron would still be home…

A few minutes later, Baron was in Bandit's kitchen, the obese retriever whistling low as he saw the broken chair. Bandit himself couldn't help but realize how close they were in size, now; the round curvature of their bellies were increasingly identical.

"Well, look at that! Your first broken chair." He clapped Bandit on the back. "Good for you, boyo."

"Good for me?" Bandit echoed, frowning softly in confusion.

Baron grinned broadly. "Aw, c'mon. The missus ain't around, we can be honest. I saw how much weight you've been putting on, and… let's be honest, you've not exactly been slowing down." The fat golden dog chuckled, bumping his belly against Bandit's. "You n' me have a lot more in common than I thought."

Bandit blinked, looking down at his belly wobbling softly after Baron bumped him. "I-I don't follow what you mean."

"Hah! Well, you're a gainer like me, aren't you?"

Bandit stared at him incredulously. "A what now?"

"A gainer! Ya've been trying to get fat, y'know, on purpose!" Baron chuckled, patting Bandit's belly with the backside of his hand, making it jiggle. "And now you can see the real progress you've made, eh?"

"What? But— Baron, mate, I swear I haven't been trying to get fat." He looked down at his belly, steadying it with his hands as he took two fistfuls of flab. "It's just… you know, it only happened."

"You sure? You seem so much more… comfortable since we first met. You smile a little more, you let loose more. You've got more patience with your two kids, too," Baron grinned. "If you're going to live life, live it well, eh?"

Bandit blinked, as Baron's words seemed to hit harder than he thought they might. "And you, you're… you're happy being… fat?"

Baron laughed richly. "Well what do you think, buddy?" He thumped his belly proudly. "I eat what I want, I like my life— the heat is killer, granted, but I'm always soft, plush, and comfortable. It's not perfect, sure, but… I like it, and I wear it well. So do you."

Bandit looked down at his own furry belly, idly playing with the folds of fat piling at his sides. "Huh…"

Baron lumbered beside him, squeezing his shoulder as his own belly pressed against his side. "Look pal, if I may? Let's you n' me grab a nice big lunch, and you talk it over with the wife afterwards."

Bandit smiled a bit crookedly, leaning in a bit to Baron and giving his new friend's belly a nice big slap, making it bounce. "Ah, what the heck? I'll… give it a try."

"Heh, that's the spirit!"

After an extensive visit to a buffet, and then a generous dinner, Chili was curled up next to Bandit as they watched a bit of television before bed. She had to tuck up and curl, resting against Bandit's gut as it filled his lap and spilled over his knees, for how much room he took up on the couch. "I wonder what the girls are doing right now…" Chili sighed a bit wistfully.

"Ah, if that camp is anything like the ones I went to, they'll be having a grand time— swimming, arts and crafts, campfires, hiking… they'll come back with a lot of great stories."

"Mm." Chili nestled closer to Bandit, and sighed contentedly. Bandit leaned forward to see past his own belly. She seemed comfortable… and she hadn't mentioned his weight once. Maybe she would warm to the idea?

"So… Chili, I had a thought."

"Hmm?"

Bandit cleared his throat. "It's… about my weight."

She sat up a bit. "Oh?"

The big dog took a deep breath. "What if there was… more of it?" 

"I'm… sorry?" Chili asked, frowning softly.

Bandit's mouth twisted, but there was no going back now. "What if… I started putting on more weight… on purpose?"

"You mean you haven't already?"

"Oi!" Bandit rolled his eyes. "Why does everyone keep assuming that? People put on weight as they get older!"

"Yeah, like fifteen, twenty pounds, not hundreds." Chili replied. "Why?"

"Why…?"

Chili rolled her wrist. "Well, you must've thought of why you want to do this. Why do you want to get bigger, fatter?"

Bandit sighed, his hands automatically going to his belly. "Well… It's been… nice. It's nice that I don't have to worry about watching my weight. I like eating as much as I please. And… I think I like my body like this." He watched Chili for her reaction. "Is… is that crazy?"

Chili still didn't say anything, frowning softly as she stood up, and without saying anything, moved to the kitchen. Bandit sighed, slumping in his seat as his belly pooled more. He pulled himself up and followed after her. "Alright, babe, it was just a passing fancy, if you want me to get back to the gym and dieting, I will, I…" he frowned as he looked over the kitchen. "What's going on here?"

Chili had emptied out a good part of the fridge and freezer, spreading various foodstuffs on the fridge. "Alright, Bandit Heeler— if we're going to start doing this, we're going to do this right."

"I— I'm sorry?" Bandit blinked.

"You heard me," Chili smiled tightly. "First of all, the second your health starts taking a nosedive, we pull the plug. I want to grow old with you, that means you… you know, grow old."

Bandit nodded dumbly, taking a moment to realize what was happening. "Right, right, of course."

"Second of all, you are going back to the gym. You'll keep your heart healthy and lift weights again— you want to be big, you're going to be strong enough to carry it all around."

"Right, yes, absolutely."

"And finally," Chili gestured to the food spread out. "I'm going to kill two birds with one stone on this. I've been wasting so much money on food that doesn't get eaten, so if you're gonna do this, you're going to make sure every cent I spend at the grocery store is worth it." She smirked up at him. "Calories are calories, right?"

Bandit grinned wide enough to dimple his round cheeks. "Heh, true enough."

"Good. Now I want you to eat at least two of these now, because they're going to expire in a few days. The girls begged me for these melon ice pops, they had one each, and then never touched them again. You kept banging on and on about this pulled pork after one of Baron's cookouts, so I want you to do something with it. And this ice cream— alright, fair dues, this one's on me. I thought the flavor would be my thing, it's really not, but you like praline, so. Take your pick."

Bandit smiled warmly, stepping around the kitchen table and pulling Chili into a hug, enveloping her between his thick arms and plush, doughy chest. "Thanks, love." He chuckled once he spotted Chili's tail was wagging. 

"Ah, this is pretty nice too, I'll admit…"

If there was any lingering doubt about putting on extra weight in Bandit's mind, Baron and Chili's encouragement absolutely smothered it. The already hefty dog soon grew into an absolute blubber hound, the great, enormous boulder hanging off his torso was a sight to behold— sticking out several feet ahead of his multiple chins, it was excessively soft, a constancy not unlike uncooked dough, overabundant love handles and a deep navel the only features keeping it from being truly spherical. He smacked his lips, causing multiple chins to wobble and inflated, chipmunk cheeks to shudder as he polished off his last slice of pizza, having burned through eight of them as a special treat.

"C'mon, babe, are we doing this or what?" Chili called from the bedroom.

"Ah, one sec, love!" Bandit called up. With a great heave, he hoisted himself up off the couch, heavy, lumbering steps carrying him up the stairs, legs thick as kegs. His sloshing belly bounced with each step, and he was really beginning to feel the weight as it pressed down on him— but he had not been a complete couch potato, and there was still some hearty muscle buried deep under the reams of fat. He squeezed into the bathroom, and Chili crawled under the overhang of his belly to read the scale.

"Ah! Well, Bandit Heeler, that's another goal smashed. Look at you, racking up the wins?" She grinned broadly, stroking at the fur cresting along his enormous belly. "So… what's the next goal going to be?"

"Well… actually, babe, I was thinking I'm happy where I am." Bandit said, grabbing as much of his belly as he could. "The girls're starting to notice I'm a little slower, and… I don't wanna not be able to play with them. I can still eat, but… I think I'm happy, here." He glanced at Chili. "Is that good with you?"

She returned Bandit's smile, reaching up to kiss him on his round cheek. "Sounds like your weight is just about perfect, then."