The Big Bad Wolf decided he'd give Penelope a lifetime of free food at a buffet in the nearest town. That'd probably give her the most bang for his proverbial buck. Plus, he knew the owner... Somewhat well. The wolf would just have to have a little talk with him... The wolf set off on his way to meet this acquaintance.
An hour or so later, the Wolf found himself in town. It wasn't a particularly large town, being that it was right on the edge of a forest in the middle of nowhere, but it had all of the amenities and luxuries one could expect from urban life. Such as restaurants, for instance.
The Wolf didn't need to travel far before he passed by one such restaurant: An all-you-can-eat buffet, to be more precise. This would probably be where he sent the pig to feed herself to greater levels of obesity, but it wasn't his destination. No, that would be a two-story brick building just a block down from the buffet, where he'd be paying a surprise visit to his "dear" friend, the Sly Fox. He strolled up to the front door, took a deep breath... And gently exhaled, stopping himself from blowing down the door; it was simply a reflex at this point. He rapped on the door rather loudly and stepped back, waiting to be let in. After waiting a minute or so, the door opened a crack, revealing a small brown paw reaching through, followed by a vulpine muzzle, and the face of the fox it belonged to.
"Ah, Mister... Mister Wolf..." said the Sly Fox. "What a... Pleasant surprise, you coming all the way to see me. I wasn't aware that you, ah... Knew where I lived." The fox shot him a forced smile, which the wolf returned.
"Ah, Mister Fox..." the wolf returned the vulpine's sarcastic greeting. "Yes, I was just in town, and I would be remiss if I didn't come visit my dear friend. Please, might I come in?"
The brown fox sighed, opening the door to let the wolf into his den. "Yes... Come in. Welcome to my humble abode..."
It certainly was a rather humble abode. From where the wolf stood, he could see a modest living room, furnished with your standard loveseat, a coffee table, a couple of end tables, an armchair... All arranged just as you'd expect in front of a television. The walls were painted a rather boring white, scarcely decorated with some framed photographs and a cabinet holding a few pieces of china. The wall opposite the front door housed an archway leading into a stairwell, and just to the right of the pair was a closed door. "Please, do pardon me a moment..." the fox muttered before he turned around. "Vivian! We have company!" the fox shouted.
"Oh, do we? I wasn't expecting company..." a voice drifted down from the stairwell.
"Neither was I..."
"Hmmm... Well, I'll be down in a moment. Hold tight, hon."
"Yes, dear."
"Oh, that's right..." the wolf said knowingly. "I'd heard you'd gotten married."
"Yes..." the Sly Fox said nervously. "I'd have, ah... Sent you an invitation to the wedding, but it was a... Small, private affair. You understand."
"Oh, of course..." The wolf flashed the fox a toothy grin. "I certainly wouldn't want to show up somewhere that I wasn't invited." The fox was clearly unamused, which of course the wolf found quite amusing. "Now, now, Mr. Fox. Where's your sense of humor? I suppose you've never had one, though..."
"What do you want, Big Bad Wolf? I know you didn't come here for small talk..."
"Sly! Don't be so rude to our guest," came a playful feminine voice from behind the fox.
"I-I'm sorry, dear..." the Sly Fox stammered.
The face of an orange vixen popped in beside the brown fox's, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "Dear... You know I'm playing... Perhaps our guest is right about your sense of humor..?"
The brown fox chuckled as he returned her peck. “Wolf... This is my beautiful wife, Vivian. Say 'Hello,' Vivian.” The Sly Fox stepped to the side to let the wolf get a good look at his bride.
The wolf was, quite frankly... Surprised, to say the least.
He'd never seen a fox quite so... Fat.
From her face alone, the wolf wouldn't have guessed her size. Her muzzle, jaw, face... No excess fat, no jowls, no “cherubic” cheeks... There was a bit of fat on her chin, but the wolf could have easily dismissed that as the consequence of a “soft” city life. Her neck was just as average, but as her throat met her shoulders, things got a bit... Thicker.
Her narrow shoulders had a bit of padding, which contoured into fairly flabby biceps, tapering in at the elbows to once more curve out into only-slightly-less flabby forearms. Her bust practically exploded from her chest; a pair of lovely, large ta-tas forming a shelf beneath her muzzle. They sat heavily upon the vixen's gut, which spread out a good foot or so in front of her, with thick love-handles to either side, which he could see quite clearly through the orange fox's tight blue dress, hugging her body as if it were spandex. A “roll” formed halfway between the breasts and her groin, bifurcated by a deep navel, with a modest crease beneath it. Her wide torso gave way to even-wider hips, flaring out to either side of her. Though the wolf couldn't see it from his vantage point, he assumed the vixen's ass was just as thick, if not more so.
She wasn't quite as large as the pig he'd come to discuss (probably by virtue of being a few inches taller than the swine), but... She could probably give her a run for her money. The wolf never really considered himself a “chubby-chaser,” but with his new fixation on Penelope and her size, he realized that his interest in making her grow might be more than carnivorous... The vixen's size, as well, was stoking his fire.
All the while the wolf was surveying the vixen, the vixen was surveying the wolf. Vivian giggled and curtsied, her entire front wobbling even through the constricting blue dress. “'Hello, Vivian,'” she said wryly.
“Hello, Vivian,” the Wolf replied as he took in the spectacle.
The Sly Fox embraced his wife with one arm, gesturing to the wolf with the other. “This is the Big Bad Wolf, dear.” The two foxes, side by side, were quite the contrast: A tubby orange vixen, practically stuffed into a shiny satin gown, leaning on a slightly-shorter brown reynard only half her size wearing a pressed white shirt and black pants. An odd couple, indeed.
“Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Fox...” The wolf outstretched a large paw, which the vixen took in her smaller one.
“Likewise, Mr. Wolf,” she smiled genially as their paws moved up and down. “I... See that you're not much into fashion.”
At that moment, the wolf realized he was terribly under-dressed, having only arrived in a tight pair of short cotton pants that only reached his knees. The wolf would have been a bit embarrassed for himself, if he was capable of anything resembling shame. He shrugged. “I suppose I'm not, Ms. Fox.”
“That's... Quite alright, Mr. Wolf,” she said, smirking as she eyed the wolf's bulge. “And please. Call me Vivian.”
“Will do, Vivian.”
The Sly Fox, having said nothing for the past couple of minutes, gestured toward the arranged furniture in front of the television. “Shall, uh... Shall we adjourn to the living room?”
“Of course, dear... But first, let me fetch us some refreshments,” the vixen cooed as she turned around and sashayed back to the hallway from whence she came. Both the wolf and the Sly Fox hungrily eyed her wobbling ass, which was just as thick as the wolf had thought, making a nice shelf for her bushy tail.
As soon as she'd left the room, the wolf snickered. “I'd also heard you had a bit of a... 'Thing' for fat girls, Sly. I suppose I heard right.”
The fox shifted nervously. “Yes, well... There's nothing wrong with that, Wolf,” he said sharply.
“Oh, of course not, of course not... 'More cushion for the pushin',' right? Lots of cushion...”
“Go sit down, Wolf.” The fox stomped over to the loveseat while the wolf took the armchair. “Now, why are you here?”
“Now, is that any way to talk to a guest?” The wolf kicked up his foot-paws onto the coffee table, grinning as he noted the fox's annoyance. “I thought we were... Friends.”
The fox frowned. “Wolf... Enough of your games.”
“Games? Whatever do you mean?” the wolf said, feigning confusion.
The fox fell silent, frustrated by the situation. He wasn't exactly fond of the wolf sitting in his armchair, and he was almost certain the feeling was mutual; any sort of relationship they'd had in the past was purely of business. Their continued contact would, clearly, be more of the same.
The wolf allowed the silence to linger for a moment or so, enough to let his host calm down slightly, before beginning his proposition.
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