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Part III: Buns in the Oven

The convoy moved non-stop down the highway day and night only stopping at regular intervals to refuel the big, thirsty engines. Rascal didn't know how they went without sleep, though later he figured that they could be driving in pairs and taking turns at the wheel. The ride was tough on the collie trapped in the trailer which bounced and sometimes fishtailed dangerously behind the jerk's beat-up old truck. Potty breaks were few and far between and his food and water was limited to ensure that he didn't need to go as much. He was also utterly alone during the entire drive. The only time the door of the trailer would open was at the gas station and while more than once Rascal bolted for the door as soon as it was open, every time the jerk caught his slow, bloated body in his arms before carting him off to the side of the road where a bit of grass could be found.

There was no chicken broth during the ride, only the cheap dry kibble mixed with water the jerk undoubtedly also got from the gas station. Rascal had to potty, drink as much as he could and down the whole soggy mess of watered kibble - fortunately the jerk used his small dish from the exhibit rather than his big feeding bowl - all in the eight minutes or so that the trailer was stopped. Rascal supposed that he didn't have to hork down the kibble, but when he did, the jerk then gave the collie a big hunk of the leftover bacon from his "diet" the previous week. An explosion of flavor, the bacon was enough to drown out the lack of taste in his food and was good to gnaw on its soft, gristly goodness for up to an hour in the trailer if he didn't go too fast and just used the left side of his mouth. The bacon, and the joy it gave him was a fair trade off for eating the kibble as Rascal saw things. Besides, and the collie's knees would shake against his belly as he considered this, he wanted to avoid being force fed - or something worse - by the jerk again and if he could find a way to justify doing what the jerk wanted him to do... well that would just have to be good enough for now.

Rascal had never much considered himself an escapist, but he daydreamed a lot during that time he spent on the road. He would lay on the jerk's bed, not because it was all that much more comfortable than the floor - in fact, it was quite a hassle even clamouring up onto it with his heavy sagging gut - but because he was expressly forbidden from getting up on it while the jerk was there. While he sat, he would think about home a lot.

He thought mostly about how life there had seemed so dull, but looking back, Rascal realized that he had had it made. The two children had always wanted to chase him and dress him up in silly clothes. They called him "Fluffy-nutters" and pulled his tail. It had seemed insufferable and he'd go to lengths to avoid 'play-time,' but now Rascal missed the attention. Life had seemed so dull, he always was looking for things to do, adventures to have that were out of the ordinary... Rascal rolled onto his wide back on the bed. 'Well, I'm sure this technically qualifies as an adventure.' He thought miserably. Rascal wondered what the scene had been when Rose turned up in his body. Would they have sensed that anything was wrong at all? Would they even notice? Rascal fantasized that someone, perhaps Samantha, the youngest, would realize the truth, that Rascal had not in fact come home and that they were harboring an impostor. Maybe they would keep Rose locked up in the basement until Rascal eventually returned or keep her tied to a tree... Rascal smiled at the image. Surely they would realize something was wrong... surely.

Rascal also thought about his future, the coming year. Was his life to be exactly like what the last week had been like? From Rose's descriptions, that seemed likely the case, but then anything she said couldn't be trusted. As for himself - or herself, he thought as he cleaned the bare skin on his tummy with his tongue - Rascal was sure that he wasn't just going to lie back and accept it like Rose did. For the heavy collie, it was hard to reach more than halfway down his belly to clean himself. Still his weight... was a serious obstacle.

Contradictorily, it seemed easier to take a firmer stance in his life now that home was beyond reach. Before, Rascal had worried that if he did something wrong, he would end up losing his chance to get home... but with the convoy having now taken him beyond the possibility of returning home - at least for the next year - it seemed that he had nothing left to lose. Rascal wasn't sure yet what form his defiance would take, but he was confident that time would give him an answer.

Rascal, as he braced his shoulders and flank against the trailer wall to better clean his hindquarters felt something move deep inside his belly. His paw flew to his tummy and he slumped slowly down against the wall. "Woah..." he said to the empty trailer. "That felt weird." He felt the sensation again a couple minutes later, an alien movement deep within his gut, something moving on its own against his insides. "Puppies...?" said Rascal as he held his paw against his belly and sniffed it with his nose. Even after a week of morning sickness, the thought that he was pregnant was hard to swallow and it had been easy enough to put out of his mind. The sensations he was now feeling brought up the unwanted thoughts again. His mind railed, "I've never even... done it before! How can I be pregnant?!" Rascal was upset at the injustice of it, that he should have to deal with the results of Rose's promiscuity... and Rose's appetite, and Rose's disinclination for exercise as well. Still... while the idea of giving birth was still a fear filled and mysterious affair in his mind, Rascal was intrigued by the thought of puppies. He hadn't met other puppies since he was a pup in obedience school himself. He wondered, as he fondled his overlarge gut, what the little pups brewing inside of him might look like. Black and white like himself? Would they look more like collies or labs? And where would they go after he'd gotten them out of his stomach? Would they be strays or would they find loving homes? Rascal thought and worried for a long time as he laid on the bed and rubbed the large dome of his belly. 'I wish you luck, little puppies.' He thought and then eventually fell into a doze as the trailer continued to thunder down the highway.

Brinkely, Arkansas. Off the Interstate 40, the fair trucks and vans finally came to a stop and people were a buzz as they constructed the maze of tents, stands, rides and lights in a big parking lot on the edge of the small town. The first time that Rascal's feet touched Arkansas soil it felt moist and smelled of peat. As it turned out, there was a marsh not too far away.

The jerk came and let Rascal out of the trailer, grabbing him and carrying him down the steps as if he were an invalid - Rascal thought he could have at least managed to climb down the few steps - and let him on the grass for a long needed pit stop. After he was through, the collie put his plump rump down on the slightly soggy turf and watched the fair rise. Despite everything that had happened, Rascal watched with renewed wonder as, little by little, the wonderment of the county fair was assembled in this new and strange place. Surprisingly, amid the new smells, the differences in the vegetation and the trees and landscape all around, the county fair was a slice of familiarity in an alien environment. As fate would have it, just as Rascal was growing bored with watching the feverish working pace of the humans and was thinking about exploring the nearby vicinity, the jerk came up behind him and clicked a small metal latch onto his collar. The latch was attached to a bright red plastic coated wire which terminated in a spiraling metal thing that the jerk then twisted into the earth. Rascal had seen dogs on tethers before, but had never thought he'd have the misfortune to be at the end of one. After the metal anchor was firmly in the ground, the older human left without a word to start setting up the exhibit.

Not having budged an inch during the entire affair, Rascal slumped down and sighed. Somehow it did seem as if fate were conspiring now to keep him as miserable as possible now that he was in this morbidly obese body. Later, he would see the reason for his being tethered; the fairgrounds at Brinkely were unfenced. Rascal hardly thought he would have wandered that far, but he just sighed and resigned himself to his current situation. Rascal made the most of his 30 foot radius of movement that day the fair was getting set up. The speed and efficiency with which the humans worked really was astounding as Rascal watched from the end of his tether. He particularly liked watching the Ferris wheel go up. Rascal had no idea that the Ferris wheel was actually three trailers lined up side by side. Human workers dressed in bright orange vests worked most of the day on perfectly lining up and joining the three trailers. In the afternoon, when Rascal had already tired of observing the wheel, he suddenly saw huge mechanical arms raise in unison from the two outside trailers. Rascal's ears cocked as another set rose in the opposite direction, carrying the load of bright yellow bars in the center with them. Setting the tops of the arms together to form a load bearing triangle, humans climbed up and began unfolding the actual wheel from the big hanging rectangle of folded bars. The collie placed his front paws under his fatty chest and watched in delight as the wheel took shape and then as the gondolas were loaded on and secured. The wheel spun round and round as they worked, apparently to keep the load balanced at all times. It was a similar story for all the other rides, but Rascal thought that the big Ferris wheel was the most impressive.

The day actually passed very quickly for the obese canine, watching the fair go up and for once not having to constantly watch his back. He belonged here. Rascal's ear lifted in surprise - once again feeling the weight of earring which hung from it - the thought had been unexpected even to him. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that now, and for the foreseeable future, it was true. Though perhaps his was a small role compared to others. All Rascal did was sit on his fat duff all day, meanwhile even the jerk was kept busy helping with the construction of his exhibit and then moving on to help other people with theirs. The man might be neglectful, even cruel, but Rascal had to admit that he knew how to carry a stack of wood and wield a hammer. That evening, Rascal actually welcomed the return of his old routine, as well as the end of the hamburger and bacon diet as evidenced by a large and steaming bowl of chicken broth and kibble for his dinner. He drank heavily and ate heavily - the last stretch had been a long one - and then laid down on the carpet of the "living room." Looking out over the swell of his big and sagging abdomen, it was hard for Rascal to tell if the week on nothing but fat balls and bacon had had any major effect on him. Certainly, he agreed that he wasn't any thinner, but his obesity was already so extreme it was hard to say whether his belly sagged any lower or his flanks swelled any higher. Feeling a little disgusted at himself for letting another day go by and yet again having done nothing to curb the flood of food into his fat maw, Rascal resigned himself to just being "F-A-T" and leaving it at that. He let his head slump against the floor and sighed as he felt his tummy fat spread out before him and his back fat spread out behind. Relaxing, his heart rate finally declined into a normal range for the first time that day. Before he fell asleep, Rascal felt another alien stir inside his belly and the corner of his mouth lifted in a tiny smile.

The fair didn't open the next day and once again Rascal spent most of the day on the tether. The collie was thankful for at least not being cooped up inside the trailer, however. The sky was a solid slate of grey all day and Rascal was relaxing with his back up against one of the big rear tires of the trailer when he saw a familiar stand set up not far away. Nobody was cooking anything today, but the wind blew familiar odors from the stand down to Rascal and his head lifted from his mild doze; he found that he spent a lot of the time in a mild, eyes-half-open doze nowadays. He knew what he had smelled as soon as he saw the sign: "Deep Fried Butter!" Rascal licked his chops lustily. Never mind his newfound weight, Rascal definitely wouldn't mind another stick of deep fried butter, the memory of the flavor was still fresh, but it was not nearly enough to satisfy. If only he weren't on the end of this tether, he might go over there and... and... 'Probably get shooed away." _ Thought Rascal as he crossed his paws and put his head down on them. It was miserable being constantly reminded of that wonderful experience every time he looked at the stand right at the head of the small alley where the "world's" extraordinary animals were set up and yet knowing that no one was going to offer him even a taste of the marvelous treat. Rascal's gut growled and a paw flew to rub it almost soothingly, _'Well at least not un-coerced...' thought Rascal with a small smile. Settling back down with his head on his paws, Rascal hoped the owner of the stall was a dog lover as he organized the little plan in his head. It felt good to scheme, more like his old self, even if it was only to get a fattening treat.

The next day was very busy. It was the opening day of the fair and Rascal heard his visitors talking excitedly about the free admission and dollar rides all day. At the bottom of his pit, Rascal played a game of stacking the stuffed animals as high as he could on top of his wide belly. He invariably lost before he completed the third row, the toys spilling down his flanks and onto the wood floor, but he had a lot of fun the whole time. Rascal liked to think he was getting better at throwing the toys straight up so that he could catch them without moving too much to either side. One corner of his area was already covered with fluffy white cotton from when he'd torn the legs off of his purple octopus using his good teeth. His favorite duck toy, Rascal kept mostly in his bed and tried not to play overly hard with it. Panting, Rascal dragged his bottom back over to his bed for a well needed break. He was still getting really tired after just a few minutes of play, but it felt good, especially the fact that he'd never had so many great stuffed toys before in his life. Looking up, Rascal saw that people were lined up end to end around the pit watching him. Chest heaving and belly shaking like the Pacific during a hurricane, Rascal thought that there must really be a lot of people at the fair today for so many to be here at his usually fairly deserted exhibit. Rascal couldn't curl up very much with the vastness of his torso, but he still turned his head inward so that his chin was on his chest and his hind feet were near his nose before settling down for a short nap.

That evening, Rascal decided to commence stage one of his plan. Having napped on and off all day, it was not hard to wake at about 11:30 pm. All of the exhibits closed much earlier than the rest of the fair and for this Rascal was grateful, for while in all appearances he'd been soundly asleep for the last hour and a half since dinner, he'd actually been waiting for the last few minutes before the rides and the shops closed, including the Deep Fried Butter stand. Rascal got heavily to his feet. Wobbling a bit with the effort afterwards, he thought, _'Jeez, I must putting on weight already!' _ Whether due to the hamburger and bacon diet or perhaps plain fatigue from his exercises earlier in the day, Rascal didn't dwell on the difficulty of getting up. Instead he went to the top of the steps where the door to the trailer was and scratched his paw against the side of the cabinet next to the steps. Eventually the jerk awoke, though Rascal's front knee was hurting a bit for standing on three legs so long.

"Whatchu wan' fattog?" said the jerk wearily as he sat up on the side of the bed and rubbed his eyes with his large, meaty hands. In response, Rascal scratched at the cabinet adjacent to the door again.

Grumbling curses about bitches and their small bladders, the jerk rose and hobbled over to the door. When it was open, Rascal tried to leave by himself, but when he got his front feet on the first step - sagging chest touching the top of the stairs - an arm gripped him under his gut and then the other came and got him at his chest. Annoyed at always being picked up and carried everywhere, Rascal struggled, but just like last time, it was to no avail.

"Dmn'Fattog..." muttered the jerk as he walked down the steps and all but tossed Rascal outside, dropping him and his heavy weight the last several inches to the ground. "Gitchu busy, fattog, I'll b'back this time." Said the jerk before turning and closing the door of the trailer behind him. Rascal didn't know whether his unwanted owner would really come back, but given the unfenced perimeter, he thought that the jerk would make good on his promise tonight. So trying to make the best of his time, Rascal waddled up the short distance to the head of the exhibit alley.

It was the first time Rascal really had to walk any serious distance since he'd changed bodies and by the time he was near his target stand, he thought he understood a lot of Rose's disinclination for movement; his joints, his hip in particular, were really starting to bother him. Walking to the fried butter stand, Rascal thought that Rose had been less than honest about her weight-gain in this body; if it was really only eight years old, then this body must have been drastically overweight for most of its life to be in such banged-up shape by age eight. But Rascal decided it didn't really matter as he plopped down his fatty rear and panted as he recovered as well as observed the stand where the Deep Fried Butter was made. He'd just have to make do with what he had.

The stand, as it had been back in Tennessee, was void of customers, but Rascal was fairly confident of this since it was so close to closing time. The scent of disinfectant and the white rags on the cash register told Rascal that the vendor had already finished cleaning up. The oil had gone cold as well, but that was fine, Rascal wasn't expecting any delicious fried treats tonight. Tonight's objective was to judge the vendor's reaction to him. Rascal was still panting, but he rose anyway. He wanted to be back at the trailer before too long and he couldn't delay this anymore. Rascal waddled towards the back of the stand, his big belly rubbing the insides of his thighs and the fatty globes at his croup pressed against either side of his tail as he set it to a high wag. Rascal cocked his ears the way he did when he wanted table scraps at Thanksgiving and remembered not to open his mouth to reveal his blackened teeth or his bad breath as he closed in on the rear of the stand.

Rascal saw the owner sitting in the corner of the space behind the counter where he made his sales. Fiddling with his thumbs, the young man was playing some sort of game on his phone. Walking around a bit and sniffing loudly, Rascal hoped that the young man would notice him, but his face did not lift from the tiny screen. 'This calls for more drastic measure...' Rascal thought as he hauled himself over to the side of the counter where a waist high flap separated the inside of the stand from the rest of the fair. Gently, ever so gently, Rascal scratched at the cheap wood. That finally turned the vendor's head around.

Putting down his phone while clicking off the display and putting it into his pocket in a single easy movement, the vendor's head turned towards where Rascal was at the side of the stand. The human walked over, still not seeing Rascal below the height of the counter and nearly took half of the collie's nose off as the door flap whipped by with the human's passage. The human male looked first in the wrong direction - Rascal widened his eyes and moved his feet as close together as he dared - and then looked in the other direction. 'The moment of truth.' Thought Rascal as they made eye contact for the first time.

The human was obviously surprised, but didn't immediately react. Rascal forced his tail to wag faster against the fat entrapping the base of it. He would have given a soft, happy bark, but still didn't want his bad teeth to be seen. At the last millisecond, Rascal acted on a sudden impulse. Cocking his head, the fattened collie lifted his front paw and brushed the pads against the human's pant leg, whining so softly it was almost inaudible. That did it.

"Aww... how cute. A little pup-pup." Drawled the vendor and he reached down slowly and cautiously gave Rascal's head a pat. The collie made sure to lick the tips of his fingers as he pulled away; even after washing them, Rascal detected a hint of grease on them. Rascal raised a paw again and brushed the man's leg. That brought the hand back, this time to run up and down the side of his neck. Stroking him, the human said, "And where did you come from, little buddy?" Rascal just kept his eyes on the young man's face - humans seemed to respond to eye contact - and pushed into his hands; the vendor's fingernails really did feel good against his skin.

Reaching around to the underside of Rascal's neck, the young man apparently felt the surplus amount of hanging skin and fat. "Oh, you're pretty chunky aren't you?" he said and ran his hand up under Rascal's chin. Rascal's eyes widened a little in surprise; 'chunky' was not exactly the first word he would have used to described his bloated, obese body. But then, it was dark and most of Rascal's back and flanks was pitch black. Rascal eased as the human seemed to enjoy himself. 'So he does like dogs.' Thought Rascal, 'Good, this is going to be so much easier...' The collie reached down and gave the man's forearm a brief lick to show he was still interested in continued pets. Smiling, the vendor reached a little lower, scratching Rascal's shoulders and rubbing his dense, protruding chest. And then the young man's fingertips brushed against the top curve of Rascal's belly pressing up under his bulging chest. "Wow, wha-" said the man as he recoiled slightly and then he pressed his palm flat against Rascal's enormous gut trying to force its way past his front paws. The fingers cupped against the dense, round surface. "That's a really big belly you got there, puppy." Rascal felt a stir of elation as the man called him a 'puppy.'

The young man took his hand back and put it to his chin in thought. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" Rascal shifted his weight back and forth, he had been hoping that the human wouldn't recognize him, but then, given his appearance, he guessed he shouldn't have been surprised. The owner of the stand snapped his fingers and pointed down to Rascal with one hand, "You're that 'World's Fattest Dog' aren't you pup?" Rather than try to deny it - as if he could - Rascal woofed energetically as if he'd been waiting for him to say that. "What're you doing over here, pup?" the vendor asked. Rascal whined just a bit and shook his bottom, feeling the fat globs at his tail head drag against the ground. The man smiled and resumed petting the collie. If there was one thing that Rascal had learned in his two years of life, it was how to act cute.

After about a minute more, Rascal felt that their introductions were complete, and rather than overstay his welcome or cause the human to attempt bringing him "home," Rascal got back onto his heavy paws. The man straightened up and while looking down at the collie, seemed to take in for the first time how wide Rascal was. "Wow... you are very fat, aren't you pup." Rascal rolled his eyes and didn't respond. He waddled off into the dark back towards the trailer, panting happily until he was sure the human with his inadequate ears could no longer hear him. Overall, Rascal felt very good about tonight. He was well on his way to becoming the Deep Fried Butter vendor's new late night visitor. Rascal bent his hindlegs and piddled on the way back to the trailer, he was starting to get the hang of his new plumbing now. Still, after all the walking, the morbidly obese canine was looking forward to a long night of heavy sleeping and time off his paws.

Rascal steeled away the following night and settled for nothing but pats once more. The collie could tell that although surprised, the young man was also very welcoming of his visit, scratching his shoulders and especially patting Rascal's protruding pigeon chest. Most importantly, however was the fact that the man did not try to return him and was content to let Rascal walk back to his trailer unmolested. So far, the jerk remained ignorant of his dog's night-time explorations and if he could stay that way, then so the better as far as Rascal was concerned.

On the third day of the exhibit, Rascal spent most of the time, as he tossed his toys here and there, thinking about how to commence the next stage of his master plan. Rascal, in a rare moment of actually standing up lost track of his favorite stuffed duck after he tossed it away. Looking around, he finally spotted it... hanging from the hands of a small girl. Anger flooded through Rascal, but he'd spent a lot of time being coached not to growl or behave aggressively. Seeing the human child holding his beloved toy far overhead, Rascal planted his paws widely and barked with his high, collie bark. The people all around - and there were quite a lot, Rascal noticed - turned to look at the girl with her stolen property. Rascal sagged in relief as an older human male gently took Rascal's duck away from the kidnapper and tossed it down. The collie had to spring forward - or at least lurch forward quickly - to catch it, but he did. Rascal was so happy to have his duck back that he spun around three times. He would have continued, but he lost his balance and fell onto his heavy rear, eliciting a hearty roar from the crowd. Rascal even noticed more humans behind those in the front row, looking over shoulders and between heads. The collie thought that the fair must be jammed packed for there to be so many here...

When Rascal was taken from the exhibit to the trailer, all he could think about was tonight. However, before dinner, the jerk walked in with an abnormal spring in his step and humming an unusually merry tune. In his hands was a shockingly white box, unmarked save for a grey icon on the top. After spending almost an hour reading the instruction manual, the jerk finally took a large silver rectangle out of the box and spread its accessories out on the bed. It wasn't until the elderly man plugged it into the wall and opened up the amazingly flat object that Rascal realized that the jerk had purchased a laptop computer, and a new one at that. Dinner had to wait for the jerk to set up his new e-mail and internet and while Rascal was fine with the delay in his fattening regime, his belly kept making its own independent complaints known. Rascal hardly cared for the man or his computer, however. He knew what he wanted and it was the savory, salty taste of Deep Fried Butter. The taste, the texture, the flavor, it seemed to call to Rascal from the stand across the way, eliciting a need he felt in his bones. And Rascal thought that tonight was the night he'd finally get it.

For once, the jerk had no curses and even a smile broadened on his leathery face, unfortunately revealing the man's crooked teeth. Having been thoroughly impressed by the speed and ease of use of the new Apple laptop, the jerk quickly made dinner for himself - an old fashioned TV dinner that came in foil and was cooked in the oven - and Rascal. Sensing the man's distraction, Rascal was even able to leave food in his dish, only eating until he was full. Belching lightly, the obese collie settled on the carpet, crossed his paws and set his head on them. He looked up at his owner while he stared as if with rapture down at the device in his lap. Rascal rubbed his tummy with a paw, as if to soothe some minor indigestion, but realized it wasn't heartburn he was feeling, but another puppy moving vigorously in his belly. Rascal was still dubious about there being ten puppies as Rose claimed, but he found it simply amazing that there were little lives housed inside his body at all, despite his grossly overabundant volumes. As time passed, however, the pups became more and more vigorous and Rascal was getting a sense of... something or maybe somethings, he had to admit to himself. It was still too vague to really understand, but Rascal was pretty sure it wasn't anything bad... in fact, it might have been something really wonderful.

Rascal's paws hit the ground heavily as he was dropped onto the asphalt that evening. The jerk yawned and hopped quickly back into the trailer and back to his new toy as Rascal set off. He wouldn't have been surprised if the jerk forgot about him entirely tonight. The obese collie waddled with a purpose to the head of the exhibition alley. Tonight was the night to step things up. Rascal licked his chops in anticipation.

The border collie stopped by the plywood wall of the last exhibit on the row and rubbed the side of his head against it to flip over one ear. Looking into the hubcap of a trailer wheel, Rascal noticed the purple and copper earring dangling crookedly from the ear he'd just flipped. Disliking the presentation, the collie fixed the pierced ear and flipped the other,vainly tossing his head slightly back and forth to make sure that the angle of the ear was just right. Almost like a preening bird, Rascal attempted to straighten out a few of the more tangled regions of his fur, but had to stop because he couldn't reach down far enough with his fattened torso in the way. Rascal sighed and longed for the days when he could clean his balls whenever he needed; as things were arranged now, even cleaning his lower tummy was impossible and as for his crotch, the only time he'd even seen that was before he'd changed bodies. Heavy and clotted with fat, Rascal just had to get used to living with tangles and itches on the vast tracts of skin on his back and hindquarters.

Getting up, and feeling his spine pop in the process, Rascal tried to breathe some energy and youth into his morbidly obese and more-than-middle-aged body. Ignoring his joints, Rascal stepped up into a trot, still managing to move with his weight - particularly his low hanging gut - rather than against it. As soon as he stepped out from behind the cover of the last trailer, the blowing wind flowed over the heavy canine and fluffed his long coat of black and white fur. Rascal silently thanked the gods as he came upon the stand where hopefully he could finally sate his cravings.

Rascal had to wait a moment as the vendor actually had a late night customer, but the dog didn't mind at all. The fryer was still hot. It had to be tonight. In the dark, Rascal came to the stand just as the last patron was leaving. As had become the routine over the last couple nights, Rascal sat in front of the swinging door and scratched; despite focusing on his vigor, the collie really was glad to rest his bottom on the ground even for a moment. The young man came over right away, stepping out of the stand to bend over and pat Rascal liberally on the neck and between his shoulders. He reached over Rascal's head and righted his ear, "Well don't you look pretty as punch, big girl." Rascal woofed in agreement and pressed his head against the man's leg, wagging his tail madly. Smiling, the patting continued. Rascal could have let it go on for some time as he had in the nights past, but now was the night for action. He let instinct guide him as he stood up as smoothly as he could and, still wagging his tail, looked up at the human and yapped once sharply. Rascal let his tongue hang out the side of his mouth for effect. Looking up at him, the collie willed with every fiber of his fattened body to try and telepathically communicate his deepest desire.

But the human didn't get it. He retracted his hand and placed it on his chin in thought. Rascal had one more trick to try. Relaxing his forelegs, Rascal bent forward in a play-bow, but before he dropped to the ground, he felt a horrible twinge in his spine. Rascal squinted and he knew it was too late to stop his descent to the ground. Squinting with the pain and panting for real now, the collie was partially able to save himself by letting his hindlegs fold as well. As a result, he sort of unevenly flopped onto his belly and hit the ground with a loud slap of loose flesh. Hind legs spread widely out to the sides, his knees floated in midair on their cushion of dense belly fat, only the backs of his hind paws on the ground. Panting and looking up at the human, Rascal's back felt like a mass of cramped muscle. He tried to stay very still to not agitate it, but he was breathing so hard, his whole body was rocking on it's slug-like mat of fat with the force of it. Rascal would have sagged if he wasn't sure it'd cause him more pain. The mission was aborted for sure, imagine what was going to happen when he needed the owner of the stall to carry his lard ass back to the trailer and explain how the "World's Fattest Dog" was now paralyzed!

Kneeling down, the young man placed his silly striped hat on the counter and revealed a head of outrageously long brown hair. He placed his hand on Rascal's head and the collie nudged it firmly with his snout. "What's the matter big girl? Need a belly rub?" he said, completely oblivious to Rascal's plight. The dog nudged the human's hand again, Rascal felt like he needed medical attention. The human did not move his hand away and after a quick glance to his equipment, rotated it so that he cupped Rascal's chin. "Mmmm... you know, I've been wondering why you've been coming all the way over here. I bet you're hungry for a snack aren't you girl?"

Rascal's jaw would have dropped if it hadn't already been open. The objective of all these past nights in sight, Rascal managed to forget about the pain for a moment to reach up, pushing off with his hind paws, and lick the man's hand furiously. 'Yes, yes, yes!' cried Rascal in his mind, rejoicing in the interspecies communication even as the muscles jerked uncomfortably in his lower back. After just a few more pats, the stall owner stood up and put his hat back on, stepping in front of the fryer.

As Rascal waited on the ground, he tried to relax and loosen the muscles hurting him in his back. The aroma of the butter, the batter and finally the hot, sizzling grease all helped immensely. Unashamedly, Rascal drooled profusely and his tail wagged all on its own as he lay so close to pure magic being worked. It felt like the tension that had been building in him for some time was finally about to be released. The battering and frying process seemed to take ages for the canine despite not being long enough to even melt the golden butter inside.

Rascal was wriggling his butt, his legs rocking back and forth on the gelatin bed of his belly, when the stall owner finally returned, smelling of hot grease and with the treasured confection in his hand. To Rascal's eye, the golden fried block of butter on a stick grew until it blocked out everything else, even the human offering it. In fact, if it weren't for his back, Rascal might have jumped up and taken his long awaited Deep Fried Butter. When the human hesitated with the fried goodness in his hand, Rascal wanted to bite his ankle. "Hmm..." he said, looking down at the bloated collie, "Maybe I shouldn't... you're already really fat, fatty girl."

Rascal suppressed a growl and the urge to be demanding despite the allure of the golden treat literally dripping with liquid deliciousness right there in front of him. The thought that he might not get his treat was enough for the collie to bring up a heart rending and piteous whine. Looking up at him with wide eyes, Rascal whined from deep in his throat; to his ears, the fact that he was now technically female gave his voice a more desperate edge. The human threw his arms up in the air, "Oh alright. Here you go." And at long last lowered his hand. Rascal sunk his teeth in immediately - careful to use his front teeth and not his rotten molars - and instinctively wanted to move to a more secure location to eat his treat, but paused, remembering the state of his back.

But the knots of muscle along his downward bent spine could wait. Rascal finally had his Deep Fried Butter. And it was just as good as he'd been imagining. After biting into the savory cube, hot, liquid butter flowed down Rascal's throat while at the same time he worked the batter with the good side of his mouth. He couldn't taste anything but the salty richness of the fresh butter and that was exactly how he liked it. Like a drug, it seemed like every sense that Rascal possessed was enhanced for the sole purpose of enhancing the experience. The rough texture of the batter against his tongue, the sound of the crunch, the heat of the grease, the creamy smell of the butter and of course the flavor, the incredible flavor. Every second was pure bliss tainted only by the fact that Rascal knew that with every bite, every swallow, it came closer and closer to the end.

Midway through the large block of butter, Racal's ears lifted in surprise as he felt something on his back. He was concerned enough to lift his head from the Deep Fried Butter. Turning his head against the fat of his thick neck, the collie saw that it was only the human kneeling by his side. Rascal waggled his hips on top of the fat filled mat of his gut as the human pressed down, rubbing in circles and up and down his back. Rascal grimaced at the pressure agitated his tight, cramping muscles, but the human didn't notice and furthermore, Rascal didn't want to do anything to jeopardize his long awaited treat. He squinted as the man pressed down harder on his back, but there was really nothing that Rascal could do; it wasn't like he could get up with his back like a crowd of twisted snakes. Another bite of Deep Fried Butter really did wonders to take his mind off the pain, however.

As the stall owner continued to rub his back, though Rascal began to notice a change. By the time that the collie's treat was almost totally consumed, his back muscles had warmed and were tingling slightly. Rascal licked his paws where he had held the confection and chewed the stick into pulp all the way down to the part where it had exited the butter. Rascal wagged his tail and looked up at the human, despite the fact that he knew that he was pushing his luck, he really felt like he could use another big chunk of Deep Fried Butter. "Now, now... big girl." Laughed the stall owner as he stood up and walked back into his booth. "I really don't have anything else for you. You know I usually charge five dollars for what you just ate right?" He took off his hat and turned off the fryer. Despite Rascal's wide-eyed look, the human went about his chores closing up for the night. Rascal licked his chops with an almost inebriated ease. He still wanted more, but with a big stick of butter and batter sitting on top of a bowl full of kibble and broth in his tummy, he was able to give a sigh a relief before getting heavily to his paws. After the massage, his back only stung slightly as he rose and waddled slowly and carefully back to his trailer. Rascal did, in fact, spend the night outside, but in the morning and smelling of rancid butter on top of his accumulated filth, the fattened border collie received a long needed bath and almost an hour of swimming in his small children's pool the following morning...

***

Rascal licked his large sagging belly, feeling the bare skin interrupted by the big, protruding nipples across his tongue. His nipples had been so tender all day, it almost hurt when his belly happened to drag across the ground; which, Rascal had realized, tended to happen a lot. The collie supposed that this was yet another sign that he was progressing, but it was damn inconvenient, especially considering the fact that he could not reach low enough to clean the last four nipples around the swell of his gut. Rascal gave up the effort for now, collapsing back onto his side and resting his head on the floor. Rascal heaved a big sigh which swelled his sides profusely and flapped his jowls as he exhaled. It was well past midnight, but the morbidly obese dog was having trouble sleeping.

It wasn't nausea or an upset stomach or even the puppies' kicking that was troubling Rascal this evening, however, it was pure worry. Worry about the numerous pups that where irrefutably developing inside his spacious belly, worry about his health and mobility and worry about the impending delivery looming in the near future. Rascal had no idea what he was getting into and the past two weeks in this body had not taught him anything more than how to pee out of a vagina. The worst part was that, now that he couldn't pretend that this was just going to go away, he knew that several - maybe even ten - lives depended on him to get it right. Rascal put his paws on his snout. 'But I don't know what to do!' The lack of even basic information was as scary as the prospect of giving birth itself.

As Rascal lifted his paws off his face, a light caught his eye. Lifting his head, Rascal saw that it was coming from under the bed. Rascal crawled on his belly towards the light that he'd never seen before, wincing at the tenderness of his over-large nipples as they dragged across the carpet. It was a tiny green light, not hard to miss, but Rascal was sure he'd not seen it before. It wasn't until his head and shoulders were fully under the bed - the snores of the jerk over him were like chainsaw's working in the marsh beyond the fair - and his nose was merely inches from the source of the strange light. His claws clicked against a plastic case as he reached for the firefly-like iridescence. It was the jerk's new toy, his laptop computer. Rascal cocked his head, suddenly curious as to how such a small object could occupy a human for so long; the jerk had hardly attended the exhibit in the 36 hours since he'd brought the thing home. The collie slipped a claw into the seam between the upper and bottom portions and lifted the lid. Rascal's eyes had to shut against the sudden brilliance that lit the underside of the bed as the screen lifted and turned on. Cautiously opening an eye, the fattened collie's eyes were able to slowly adjust to the brightness of the screen.

Back at his real home, Rascal had been a big fan of the television, especially of cartoons and shows with other dogs. What he saw now reminded him of the television, except nothing was moving. All he saw was a still picture of some abstract light above a blackened forest - the words "Northern Lights" entered Rascal's mind, but without any additional information - and in the middle of the screen were big letters reading: "Welcome New User." Rascal moved his paw and the letters suddenly jumped forward, scaring Rascal enough to make him flinch. Looking down, Rascal saw that his paw had touched the glossy square he'd seen the jerk furiously tapping and rubbing with his fingers earlier. On the screen was now a list of sentences along the lines of: "Would you like to check your e-mail?" and "Would you like to adjust your settings?" and "Would you like to explore the Internet?" Rascal wasn't sure what to make of the other questions, but the television spoke often of the Internet so Rascal decided to try that. He put his paw on the square and... nothing happened.

He tried again and again for some time before Rascal noticed that a little white arrow moved whenever he dragged his paw across the square. After that, it didn't take long to put two and two together. Rascal clicked the option for "internet." Suddenly a video began to play. A woman's voice came softly out of the speakers on the laptop. "Apple's new Safari X is faster and easier to use than ever..." Rascal's head lifted in alarm, the last thing he wanted was to be caught messing with the jerk's new favorite possession, but the snoring continued on unabated as the video continued.

Rascal soon discovered that the video was an explanation of the tool on the computer used to browse the internet and after repeating it a couple times, that the internet itself was a tool that humans used to find information. Bells and alarms went off in Rascal's head. This little plastic square was exactly what he'd needed. 'This "internet" could tell me what I need to know about this pregnancy!' he thought excitedly as he opened the internet browser for the first time as he'd seen in the instructional video. It was impossible to hit the keys more than one at a time with the tip of his paw, and more difficult remembering how certain words were spelled - though the computer usually corrected his spelling automatically - but after a couple tries, Rascal was able to enter, "D-O-G P-R-E-G-N-A-N-T" and then hit the 'enter' key. A whole world of information spilled into Rascal's lap and he spent until morning lapping up as much as he could. That day in the bottom of the pit, Rascal had a lot of things to think about.

The fattened collie was lying in his bed and once again licking his sensitive and protruding nipples. The toys lay scattered about randomly in a whirl of primary colors, but Rascal couldn't focus on them. Overhead a thin crowd stood and watched as if waiting for something. 'This is not good.' Thought Rascal feverishly for the umpteenth time, 'Damn Rose, damn her to hell! No wonder she was so eager to get out of this body!' _ Despite cleaning his smooth, nearly hairless belly, Rascal was furious but also deathly frightened as well. He had looked up a number of articles full of information about dog births, or "whelping" as they termed it. One thing that was almost universal among them was: "do not overfeed your bitch. Overweight dogs have more problems during birth." Rascal had seen almost the same words repeated over and over, "overweight or obese bitches have more complications during birth." "Do not encourage your bitch to gain weight excessively during her pregnancy." It seemed clear that humans often made the mistake of fattening up their pregnant bitches, however this was only the worst kind of news for Rascal. This was especially true since none of the articles were clear on what kind of complications obese bitches experienced. Rascal, as he dwelled on the discovery, almost wished he hadn't used the computer after all. _'I really hope you survive the delivery!' That was what Rose's last words to him had been. In a single night, it seemed like the odd curiosity and warmth he had felt towards the pups in his belly had been replaced with sickening dread. There was almost literally a ticking time-bomb in Rascal's belly. And there was less than two weeks left...

Rascal covered his head with his paws and wept again for the first time since swapping bodies. It was brutally unfair what Rose had done to him. Rascal didn't want to die in some fat complicated labor. Damn the articles and their lack of specificity! Damn that Rose! Despair struggled to consume him and Rascal almost let it. However, around midday, Rascal had had enough of moping. The collie was determined not to just sit around and let this beat him. But as much as he hated to admit it, he didn't know enough about the situation and how he could help mitigate it. Last night, the computer had nothing to offer but bad news and warnings, but maybe it could offer more tonight...

As Rascal stirred, his gut uttered a long liquid growl and the collie felt the familiar hollowness below the rib cage which was odd because he'd eaten his fill that morning, not to mention the Deep Fried Butter the night before_._ Normally, he didn't start feeling hungry until late in the afternoon, but there it was and the pangs were strong. Rascal stretched his paws out across the floor feeling his tummy squish against the floor. After working the kinks out of his shoulders, the heavyset collie pushed himself up and worked hard, pulling himself upright with his forepaws and dragging his heavy bottom off the ground. Rascal opened his mouth and drew in a gout of fresh air. That was a little harder than it was before and looking back at one of his flanks, it was an unavoidable conclusion that he was a little wider. 'Finally starting to show I guess.' Thought Rascal uneasily, not really caring for the other obvious explanation. He waddled over to his food dish and set his massive rear in front of the dual tin containers with obvious relief; Rascal felt ease at having the pressure off his joints but contradictorily, after spending a long time lying down, it made it more painful to get up again as he was discovering right now. He looked down at the non-descript brown kibble filling the bowl on the right, the clear cool water on the left.

Normally, the food went untouched, Rascal was not much inclined to even fully eat his twice a day meals with chicken broth let alone further stuff himself with nothing but water to soften the kibble, not since the day he'd missed his breakfast due to morning sickness. However, Rascal was sorely tempted now as his belly rumbled inside his abdomen and the pangs prodded him and made his mouth salivate even for the bland kibble; anything really to fill the hole in his stomach. Rascal really did not care to resist much in the face of real hunger. As he tossed the brown dry food into his water dish for softening, he simply attributed his increased appetite to the pups growing in his belly. With that excuse, Rascal happily devoured the entire bowl heaving a little sigh before letting his forepaws slid out forwards, letting his upper body rest on the ground. He hadn't had much sleep the night before and he took a well needed nap right then and there. Above, the crowd thinned out even more as disinterested patrons left "The World's Fattest Dog."

There was no denying the increase in appetite that evening as Rascal wiggled his butt on the ground and shifted his weight left and right in anticipation for the evening's big bowl of kibble and broth. Rascal, despite now having already eaten twice today was starved. His stomach hung like an empty sack inside him and he longed for that warm comfort that only a full belly brought. Filling his maw with the soggy, dripping kibble, despite the warmth of the hot meal and the savory flavor of the broth, was a dual-edged sword. It sated his ravenous hunger pangs, but at the same time, Rascal knew that he was overeating... again. It was a difficult realization. Rascal was used to simply eating when he was hungry and that had been all he'd needed to do to stay trim and fit. He remembered his old hyperactive self, how he never used to be able to sit still for very long, how much he loved it when the children would play and interact with him; though not so much when they dressed him up in silly getups. The life in this body was so different, very bland and uninteresting most of the time and yet filled with its own challenges. Rascal ended up polishing off the entire bowl easily, but later felt sick to his stomach that he could be so weak willed...

Rascal did his business early that night and did not sneak back to the Deep Fried Butter stand. He was still feeling too guilty about eating all of that food earlier. Instead, after the jerk had gone to bed, he devoted himself to finding a solution to his problems. The internet, as it turned out really did have all the answers once Rascal figured out what keywords to use to fetch him more information. It really did seem like the computer was able to bring the world to the tips of his paws, and best of all, surfing the net didn't bother his joints. The morbidly obese collie was able to find some good advice, but he didn't much like hearing what he had to do...