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Binge gave a small snort as he shuddered awake, almost instantly followed by a whine as he realized the dream he had been enjoying was over. Frolicking in a field of food, everything from cake anthros to custard lakes, meat houses, and nut brittle trees... And not a care in the world about eating his fill while he was there. Such dreams were rare for the German Shepherd, so he liked to savor them when he could, but this wasn't going to be one such afternoon. No, the waking world had called him back rather unceremoniously thanks in no small part to an impact to his sprawling, heavy stomach. The jostle to that sloshing, doughy expanse of canine fat hadn't hurt, but it had woken up Binge. The dog wasn't one to just let such a travesty slide, so as the cause of that rude awakening came jogging over, the canine was slowly sitting their lusciously lardy frame up to confront them.

"I'm really sorry Binge..." A soft voice started from behind the canine. Binge turned around slowly, fully prepared to give the offender a piece of his mind. Seeing just who it was, though made the canine stop and just sigh; there was no way he could be angry now. "I didn't mean to do that, the ball just got away from me."

"Kimeta... Just... Be careful next time." The canine then leaned over or rather tried to as their gut got in the way nigh instantly with the sheer size of its sagging, heavy girth. Binge just twisted and leaned further, but by the time they were even close to being able to reach the ball for Kimeta, the hyena had already retrieved the offending orb. The little incident did sow a twinge of guilt for Binge, but there was something almost prideful too for the canine on the fact that he wasn't even able to bend over and reach down in front of himself. It was a sign of the progress that he had made, and that progress was something he took a world of pride in. There was more than pride there too, as a little burn between their legs made itself known as the canine adjusted their stance. Arousing, confirming, and above all, soft... There was just something glorious about all of the fat attached to the canine.

Before Binge could revel in all of that 'progress' though, the canine needed to go somewhere that they could get some real rest, and not have to worry about the errant ball interrupting their slumber. That meant going inside, and with the property that his employer had... It was a trek for anyone, let alone a canine that had blown straight past obesity like it was some sort of challenge. A cacophony of slapping folds, rubbing fur, and light pants would ensue whenever the canine had to move at all, and the long, arduous waddle back into the house was no exception. There was air conditioning in there, and more importantly, there was food for the taking. There was _always_food in the house, and today, in particular, there was going to be a lot; it was Luc's birthday. The owner, Sasuke, never missed a chance for a celebration because of the meal those celebrations entailed, and birthdays... He went all out on those. The canine was salivating at the thought of what would be waiting inside for him, though he had to get there first... And that was going to be the hard part.

Rising fully to his feet with a long, heavy grunt, Binge stood shakily in front of the lounge chair that he had been overflowing moments before. His sagging, overblown hide was all introduced to gravity at once, though some parts of it hung so low that the canine had to take a couple ponderous steps forward in order to drag their bulk off of the chair behind them. This was no small feat either, as all of that dough scraped and dragged along the chair with it for a moment before realizing that it was being pulled away from it's resting place. The result of this motion? The chair wound up tipping over rather loudly once enough of Binge's bulk had been reacquainted with gravity. Clanging onto its side, the canine simply sighed and gave a light wave to the couple of prying eyes that were looking over at the sudden noise. He didn't say a word of apology, or even make an effort to flip the chair over; he couldn't bend over that far anyways after all. No, instead the German Shephard just drank up those odd looks with pride, tail twitching above the twin foothills of adipose over which it presided. A whistle of joy at the sight of all that rump made the canine's ears swivel towards the sound for but a moment, those same ears quickly pinning themselves back as bashful pride continued to swell and fill the overblown form of dog which he had become.

Satisfied he was freed and vertical, Binge put one foot in front of the other as best he could... Which was to say that he swung one leg blindly as far forward as he dared and planted it on the ground. His knees were buried in fat, and his stomach sagged so low that it made most forward locomotion a trek. Thankfully, there was enough muscle buried beneath years of chronic overindulgence to make it at least possible for the marshmallow dog. So on he soldiered rather ponderously, arms having to stick out slightly to their sides for both balance, and because of the collars of fat which were their biceps kept them from resting anywhere below around forty-five degrees to the ground. Each heavy, plodding footfall shook the canine from chins to shins, fat rolling and sloshing audibly as the surface of the German Shephard moved like a collection of water balloons. Their mostly-bare rump was the star of that show though, each cheek sagging past their knees and impeding walking nearly as much as the fat-filled beachball of a gut which preceded them. Covered by nothing at all, as Binge had elected to wear a thong which was nigh invisible thanks to the amount of fat which hid it, the bare fur of those sagging mountains of adipose just sloshed and rolled to and fro. There was enough fat back there to keep Binge balanced, so his back wasn't nearly as sore as it should have been from carrying around well north of 800 pounds of canine. His knees did ache though after a few yards, and his feet and ankles weren't far behind thanks to having to lug around so much dog.

Step after heavy, clumsy step moved Binge along at a snail's pace towards the house. The sand beneath his feet wasn't helping matters, the small paws of his lineage simply sinking into it heavily before he would have to lift it, and his belly, to move his foot along. There wasn't much that could be done about this, though, as Binge was like most of his species and refused to wear anything on their paws; it felt just wrong to not be able to feel the grass beneath their pawpads. Of course, showing off the bright purple polish which he had chosen for his claws was also an added benefit, but Binge liked using his species excuse rather than yet another reason for him to be something of an exhibitionist. He was already basically nude as it was; his fat kept him decent down below, and his large, sagging chest... Well, that had been taken care of years ago thanks to his surgery; all six parts of it. Not wanting to think about that, though, the canine instead just began to think of his motivation to keep on trekking along; food and air conditioning. Those two forces were quite powerful for the canine, and it made lugging his massive frame along nearly bearable. It was only nearly though as the canine was already starting to sweat buckets, the wet sound of fur on fur, and the smell of wet dog beginning to reach his nose. A shower... Or maybe a bath with food in it... One of those was in Binge's near future thanks to all of this work he had_to do just to _eat.

It took nearly twenty-five minutes, but eventually, the canine's heaving, sweaty, wheezing body made it to the door of the house. He didn't waste a moment there, tossing the door open unceremoniously and with such force that he swore he heard a light crack as it slammed against the side of the house. Upon taking one look at the door, though, Binge realized a grave error in his choice of entrances; this one wasn't fat-friendly. Nearly every entrance into the house could accommodate someone far, far wider and taller than he, but this one wasn't one of those entrances... No, this was the loading entrance for parties, and it was decidedly smaller for the more-average folk whom Sasuke had deliver the food and not all of his fattened-to-oblivion staff, which wandered the grounds. Groaning audibly, Binge looked at the door and then at themself... And decided that food and A/C were more important than wandering around to find a further off door. It would be a squeeze, but thankfully there was both some natural lubrication on the dog... And Binge had enough muscle hidden under their rolling exterior to help speed that along.

Turning sideways to the door, as Binge knew there was no possible way for him to make it straight through the door, he sized up the opening with his own incredible girth. Pressing into the door from the side... Binge realized that just a thigh was nearly as wide of that doorway, and this was before their gut even entered the equation. Quite literally, the canine had grown so large that normal doorways were a physical impossibility. Not challenging, not just a struggle... No, there was no way that Binge was going to make it through the doorway without losing somewhere around 100 pounds. There was no way the canine was going to lose an ounce of their weight either; every pound was a sign that they had come so far from where they had started, both as an anthro and as a living being uncomfortable in their own skin... That the canine wasn't even going to consider such a horrible thing. No, instead, he just relished being that large. Nothing about the change was unwelcomed, no... If anything, it was something that he was celebrating with reckless abandon. So much so, in fact... That Binge decided to go for the door.

The whole time they had been stuck in their revelry about just how large they had grown, the canine had been slowly leaning more and more into the doorframe, pounds of marshmallowy soft flab just oozing through that opening as if his body was toothpaste and the doorway was the nozzle. He hadn't even realized he had been doing this, but now that he had... The canine was starting to feel a bit stuck there. He hadn't been able to move about freely in a long, long time thanks to his stomach sagging well down past his knees, but there was something about the doorway cramming them in, wedging them in place so much that it nearly hurt by the time Binge realized what they were subconsciously doing... Well, the canine could feel that warmth in their nethers just about turn into a volcano. He squirmed a bit, rubbing what he could move of his thighs together as the door's vice-like grip on his soft, sagging frame tightened... And that little bit of friction was enough. A bit more squirming, a bit more twisting, and Binge was well aware that there was not going to be a chance in hell for them to move; no, he was well and truly stuck now, and unless someone came along with either butter to get him out, or a hose to stuff him out... Well, this was where Binge was going to stay. And he had no issue with that, the bit of raw pinching and the teasing to his overly sensitive hide aside. There was something just intoxicating about it, and if the fire between his hamhock thighs was anything to go by... It was fine. He would be _just_fine.