Dad Bod to Father Figure

A new neighbor's gluttonous habits start rubbing off on Bandit in all the best and heftiest ways possible. Enjoy!

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Bandit Heeler hummed softly to himself as he began his morning routine, the dog brushing his teeth before stepping on his scale, and winced softly to himself as he saw the weight climb up, considerably higher than he wanted it to be. "Aw, man…"

"Why'd you say 'aw, man'?" 

Bandit nearly jumped as his oldest daughter, Bluey, leapt from her hiding place in the bathtub. "Ah! Oh, just means I need to get some exercise.

"Tell me about it," Chili said ruefully as she entered with the Heeler's youngest, Bingo, in tow. Bandit's wife gave him a fond smile, then turned to Bluey and Bingo. "Now, come on girls, we need to get ready— we're meeting the new neighbors today."

"Ugh, is that today?" Bluey muttered. He wasn't feeling particularly ready to meet people today as he grabbed at his middle, able to squeeze some extra belly fat he wished he could simply will out of existence.

"It is," Chili said, planting a kiss on his cheek. She ushered the girls out of the bathroom, then turned back to Bandit. "Relax, love. You've always been good about working some extra weight when you put in the effort. A few weeks of exercise and dieting, you'll be right as rain."

"Ah, yeah, fine," Bandit sighed. He grabbed some shorts that were a bit tight, and a shirt that cut into his middle a bit when he buttoned up. He and Chili had talked about the new neighbor; American, apparently. With any luck, they wouldn't notice someone with a bit of extra weight.

The Heeler family gathered on the porch of their house, Bandit brushing down the fur on his front before turning to his daughters. "Alright girls, you ready?"

"Do we have to go now?" Bluey asked.

"Well, sure we do, sweetheart." Bandit said. "Don't you want to make new friends? I saw at least two kids about your age moving in earlier."

"I don't want new friends," Bluey said, looking down at the ground. Then, she looked back up at Bandit, with a brighter look in her eye. "Daddy, why don't we play a game instead?"

"We can play later, Bluey. Come on, it'll be fun," Bandit absent-mindedly tousled his oldest daughter's head, shifting his shirt around as it began to cut into his side.

"But I don't want to!"

"Bluey!" Bandit snapped. "We don't always get to do what we want to do. Now please, just behave."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Bluey looked down again. "Okay, daddy," she said quietly.

Chili sighed, stepping behind Bandit. "Girls, go wait in the yard a moment." As Bluey and Bingo ran off, Chili placed a hand on Bandit's shoulder. "Babe, are you alright?"

"Agh, just…" Bandit groaned. "My clothes're tight," he muttered.

"And I think Bluey still misses the Cartwrights. She was getting on well with their little one, Lucy," Chili added.

"Yeah…" Bandit rubbed the back of his head. "I'll… make it up to her after we visit them. What's the name again?"

"Jackson," Chili said. "I didn't get a look at them, just the movers, but I did see a pretty big grill being moved to the back."

"Oh, well that's something." Bandit murmured.

"Hey now, don't get too excited," Chili teased. "You're supposed to be dieting, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know…" Bandit sighed in resignation, offering Chili a grin. "Come on girls, let's go meet the Jacksons."

The Heelers walked down the street to their new neighbors, Chili holding a tin of cookies they had brought as a welcome present. They rang the doorbell, and the door swung open, catching all the Heelers off guard. The largest, fattest golden retriever they had seen filled the doorway, a huge, golden belly pushing itself out as he stepped out, smiling broadly and dimpling his cheeks. "Howdy!"

The Heelers were all caught off guard; every part of the dog was thick and broad, from his enormous, round middle to thick, hefty limbs and broad shoulders. Bluey was the first to respond. "You're big!"

"Bluey!" Bandit hissed.

The retriever gasped, hands grasping his thick sides, and looking over himself with faux shock. "I am? I didn't even notice! Thank you for letting me know, darlin', I'll start lookin' into this right away."

Bluey and Bingo giggled, and Chili smiled, offering him the tin of cookies. "Hi, I'm Chili. We're your neighbors just up the way, the Heelers— these are our daughters, Bluey and Bingo, and this is my husband, Bandit."

"Aw, well thank you, ma'am." The chunky dog bobbed his head before taking the tin, then looking at Bandit, sticking out his hand. "Bandit, eh? Put 'er there! I'm Baron, Baron Jackson."

Bandit stepped forward to shake Baron's hand, but the much larger dog managed to pull him in, temporarily bouncing off the retriever's belly. "Oof! Heckuva grip there, Baron."

"Hah, sorry about that," Baron chuckle. "Do y'all wanna come in? We're just gettin' settled, me n' the boys."

"The boys?" Chili asked.

"Oh yeah, me and my sons," Baron explained. "Ace, Baron Jr., and Charlie. It's just me n' them, ah— their mother n' me split."

"Oh! I'm so sorry to hear."

The retriever waved it off. "Ah, it's all for the best. We came out here for a fresh start, and you folks're already makin' me feel welcome." He squatted down to be at eye level with Bluey and Bingo. "Girls, do you wanna meet my boys? They're just out back."

"Mum? Daddy?" Bluey asked.

"Go ahead, girls," Chili said. The two bolted through the house and to the backyard.

"They already know the way, we were close to the family who lived here before," Bandit explained.

"Oh! Well, I hope we'll be friends too," Baron said. "Y'all will have to come by when we're all settled! I'm famous for my ribs back home," he grinned, patting his round middle meaningfully. "Between that and my old ma's cornbread recipe, it'll really put some meat on your bones."

Bandit smiled ruefully— temptation was the last thing he needed right now. "Ah! Well, that sounds great. Welcome to the neighborhood, mate."

After welcoming the Jacksons to the neighborhood, Bandit had to return to his work. A frustrating project with a few pottery shards that refused to fit properly together at a digsite consumed much of his time, and a new diet did not improve his mood. He had to sequester himself in his office for much of the day, eating up the rest of the weekend before the start of the school week. 

It was almost lunch time on a long and tedious monday; all Bandit had to look forward towards was a rather lackluster salad, until there was a sudden knock at the door. When he opened, he found Baron, filling the doorframe again.

"Ah, howdy, Bandit!" Baron waved, the large dog looking a bit bashful. He rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry to intrude, uh… I remember you work from home, but I thought I might catch you before you had your lunch."

"I was just about to eat, so you have good timing," Bandit replied.

"Ah! Great, great." Baron nodded. "I cooked up a whole mess of ribs, and I thought, ah… y'know, pay you and Chili back for the cookies."

"Oh! Well…" Bandit bit his lower lip, looking back to the kitchen and his rather plain salad. "You know what? Sounds grand."

Bandit knew he was already cheating on his diet after only two days, but Baron had talked up these ribs like they were the eighth wonder of the world… The worst part was, he might even be right. No wonder the retriever was as big as a truck; his cooking was the best Bandit had ever eaten. He had eaten half a rack before he knew it, and that was including the richly flavored cornbread Baron plied him with. 

"Ah, this is much better," Baron sighed, picking the bones clean as he and Bandit sat in his backyard. "I couldn't stand being on my own, if I'm being honest."

"Oh? You work from home, too?" Bandit asked.

"Contract work," Baron explained. "At least for now." He patted Bandit's shoulder. "I'm glad I met someone with a good appetite though, heh!"

"Oh, ah…" Bandit clutched his full middle guiltily. He thought about telling Baron about his diet, if only to keep this from being a constant temptation… but then, that would mean he may not get more ribs. "Yeah, yeah. Always been a big eater, me. Drives the missus a bit mad at times."

"Heh! Well, so long as I'm not getting you into trouble…" Baron palmed his fist. "You wanna come over again tomorrow? I'll cook us up a mess of steaks."

"Steaks?" Bandit blinked. "That's a bit rich for a casual lunch, isn't it, Baron?"

"Well… what, should I be savin' it in case the Queen drops by for a visit?" Baron quipped. "My boys're all in the middle of a phase… I can't get 'em to eat anything that isn't dino-shaped chicken nuggets right now, so I stocked up on all this beef, steaks, and pork… and I'm the only one in this house who'll eat it!"

"Ah, biscuits…" Bandit muttered, clutching his thick middle. "You're gonna make me regret this, Baron, but why the heck not?"

A new pattern was quickly established as Baron, eager to make a friend of Bandit, started showing up for lunch every day, and worked through a truly impressive collection of recipes. Any pretense of exercising and dieting very quickly fell to the wayside. Between his work, the lunches with Baron, and keeping up with his family, Bandit barely had time to realize how much his weight had skyrocketed to dizzying, never-before-seen heights for him. But when he had a moment of peace, to just sit and work or just relax his mind, he could feel just how much weight he carried as the days and weeks passed by.

In those moments, he realized just how much more canine there was in the room- his belly alone was a great, sloshing boulder that spilled over the waist of pants that had been refitted and replaced three times already— and after his last big BBQ lunch, there was no way he could close the button over his augmented hips, the cloth ready to burst over the sheer flesh of his chunky thighs and his bulbous rear. A too-small shirt hung limply against the crest of his gut, the three bottom buttons long since lost, and only barely managed to wrap around his pillowy chest.

His appetite was still massive, and he had begun to pick up some of Baron's skill at the grill— all that was left was for the two dads to team up for a barbecue the neighborhood would never forget. His diet and exercise could wait one more day, even as he struggled to tie his apron strings together across his broad, flabby back; Bandit had to get cooking.