Chewing the Fat- Part 2

Wolf has been rubbing off on Fox, and after one too many feeding sessions, it looks like McCloud might be grounded for a bit- at least until they start making plus-size arwings. Enjoy!

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"Starfox 1, Starfox 1, report to the hangar bay, you are clear for take off, repeat, Starfox 1, you are clear for take off!"

"I'm coming, dammit!" Fox McCloud grumbled, grunting as he hiked up his flight pants— they were the largest size available from the Cornerian Space Force Supply Depot, but even then, he could feel them chafe against his barrel-thick thighs.

"Mm, getting a little tight again, pup?" Wolf smirked, propping up his multiple chins on one doughy fist, his immense, whale-like bulk spread across the extra-large bed stored in Fox's quarters. 

Fox's ears flattened against his increasingly round face as he guiltily glanced at the stack of empty take out wrappers that were crowding the corner of his kitchenette. "Shut up, I've got a flight to take care of."

"Hah, looks like you're less than a hundred pounds from hitting your flimsy little arwing's capacity." Wolf smirked, flashing his teeth. "C'mon. Stop delaying the inevitable and come back to bed— I'll feed ya some brunch and then we'll crush the bed under our fatasses."

Fox felt his round cheeks grow hot. "Wolf, shut it!" He hissed. "You're not even supposed to be here! Damn pants, c'mon…" He hiked his pants over his round, overly thick hips and jiggling ass cheeks, but with one more heave, he heard cloth rip. "Dammit!" He tried looking over his pile of fat folds on his sides and back, trying to see the dimensions of his own rear. "Did—- did my pants tear? Can you see?"

Wolf looked over, seeing the splits in the back seam of his pants, showing several peeks at his deliciously round, overly plump rear. "You look golden to me, pup."

Fox rolled his eyes. "I'll see you after this job, fat ass."

"I'll be waiting— alongside a pile of take-out that'll have you busting every button on your flight suit."

"Starfox 1, report to the hangar bay, you are clear for take off!"

Fox grunted as he lurched out of his quarters; his round, flabby gut bouncing as he tried jogging, but as his chunky thighs rolled off one another, he was forced into a waddling trot. Huffing, his puffy chest fluttering, he reached the hangar, and took the laborious heavy steps up the ladder. Then stopped, as he looked at the cockpit, then down at the thick apron of belly fat. He could tell instantly he wasn't going to fit.

"Starfox 1, prepare for take off! Repeat, prepare for take off!" The PA system blared across the hangar bay. 

"Uh…" Fox gulped, making his double chin wobble. "Could I get 5 first? I, uh. Need to recalibrate some numbers…"