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"Woof..." Vladimir sighed heavily, sitting himself down to the dinning table as he waited for breakfast. He breathed heavily trying to catch his breath from a morning jog he insisted on taking to help trim off the extra poundage he had gained over the past several months. However, something felt... odd today. Last night, he had indulged himself in shrimp and butterscotch pudding and felt unusually good about it. Like a lock had been smashed to smithereens and allowed a door to be opened. He tried his best to close the door, but every time he tried he found himself in a daze. Like a wash of self-satisfaction had come over him. This was all the more obvious when he found himself hefting his rotund middle with a single hand, allowing a part of the soft, pale doughy mass to escape gravity for a bit. A smile slowly began to creep onto his face.

"Sweet Nayru," Vladimir began, his face reddening in a mixture of pride and embarrassment. "I feel so fat and heavy... yet I don't feel angry about it. What the devil is the matter with me? This isn't like me at all." He had pondered that question all night until he fell asleep, hoping a dream would answer his question. Too bad he didn't have dreams all that much anymore. This left him with a lingering question that he desperately wanted to find an answer to, but he didn't find it all that urgent. Perhaps it was just the lingering food coma talking. At least, he hoped it was.

"I don't get it. I usually fly off at the hilt whenever I eat like that. But for the the first time in my life, I'm not... mad about this gullet of mine. I actually... feel... happy. It feels... nice." Vladimir continued to allow his thoughts to mindlessly travel out of his mouth, thankful that he wasn't in earshot of anyone. He'd hate to have his elder sister hear him say such things. She'd never let him live it down.

As soon as he drifted out of his thoughts and back to reality, the cooks had come into the dining hall with breakfast in tow. The sweet, decadent smell of fresh fruit, baked biscuits, savory bacon and sausage, tempting buttermilk pancakes, and cheesy eggs made his mouth water in anticipation. Vladimir tried his best to compose himself, but the door that refused to close was spilling it's contents out once again. Not helping matters was that, as if on cue, his belly growled with a deep hunger that demanded to be sated. Vladimir blushed in embarrassment, but strangely enough he didn't feel shame like he used to. In fact, he actually felt... a sense of pride. It felt good, but it felt wrong. This was not the Vladimir he thought he was. He hated being fat, he hated everyone who treated him like a prized hog for being fat, and he wanted nothing more than to be rid of his rotund ball of overfed manflesh. And yet, a small part of him was starting to yell back at him, telling him "That's not true in the slightest!" He knew that his weight was an issue, but did everyone else see it as such? If no one had gotten on his case about it, especially since both his father and sister made playful jabs at him rather than being actually serious about it, then perhaps his preconceptions were wrong. Maybe there was something that he missed, but for the life of him Vladimir couldn't figure it out.

"Breakfast is ready, milord," a servant called, taking Vladimir out of his thoughts yet again. Vladimir decided to act upon this newfound good mood and give his servant a cheerful smile, the first he had ever given to anyone in years. He figured he might as well make good use of the opportunity and act a little kinder to everyone. He had been rather bitter over the past few months and it would serve as a nice change of pace. Besides, as much as he hated to admit it, he actually liked this new feeling.

"Of course, thank you!" Vladimir replied, readying his plate for the first of many courses. Perhaps he could indulge himself a little more. It was only a temporary lull in his normal personality, right? However, what he said (and did) next could be seen as proof otherwise.

"After all, a full belly makes a man happy, right?" Vladimir rhetorically asked, rhythmically patting his belly and cheerfully smiling all the same...

Description
"Woof..." Vladimir sighed heavily, sitting himself down to the dinning table as he waited for breakfast. He breathed heavily trying to catch his breath from a morning jog he insisted on taking to help trim off the extra poundage he had gained over the past several months. However, something felt... odd today. Last night, he had indulged himself in shrimp and butterscotch pudding and felt unusually good about it. Like a lock had been smashed to smithereens and allowed a door to be opened. He tried his best to close the door, but every time he tried he found himself in a daze. Like a wash of self-satisfaction had come over him. This was all the more obvious when he found himself hefting his rotund middle with a single hand, allowing a part of the soft, pale doughy mass to escape gravity for a bit. A smile slowly began to creep onto his face.

"Sweet Nayru," Vladimir began, his face reddening in a mixture of pride and embarrassment. "I feel so fat and heavy... yet I don't feel angry about it. What the devil is the matter with me? This isn't like me at all." He had pondered that question all night until he fell asleep, hoping a dream would answer his question. Too bad he didn't have dreams all that much anymore. This left him with a lingering question that he desperately wanted to find an answer to, but he didn't find it all that urgent. Perhaps it was just the lingering food coma talking. At least, he hoped it was.

"I don't get it. I usually fly off at the hilt whenever I eat like that. But for the the first time in my life, I'm not... mad about this gullet of mine. I actually... feel... happy. It feels... nice." Vladimir continued to allow his thoughts to mindlessly travel out of his mouth, thankful that he wasn't in earshot of anyone. He'd hate to have his elder sister hear him say such things. She'd never let him live it down.

As soon as he drifted out of his thoughts and back to reality, the cooks had come into the dining hall with breakfast in tow. The sweet, decadent smell of fresh fruit, baked biscuits, savory bacon and sausage, tempting buttermilk pancakes, and cheesy eggs made his mouth water in anticipation. Vladimir tried his best to compose himself, but the door that refused to close was spilling it's contents out once again. Not helping matters was that, as if on cue, his belly growled with a deep hunger that demanded to be sated. Vladimir blushed in embarrassment, but strangely enough he didn't feel shame like he used to. In fact, he actually felt... a sense of pride. It felt good, but it felt wrong. This was not the Vladimir he thought he was. He hated being fat, he hated everyone who treated him like a prized hog for being fat, and he wanted nothing more than to be rid of his rotund ball of overfed manflesh. And yet, a small part of him was starting to yell back at him, telling him "That's not true in the slightest!" He knew that his weight was an issue, but did everyone else see it as such? If no one had gotten on his case about it, especially since both his father and sister made playful jabs at him rather than being actually serious about it, then perhaps his preconceptions were wrong. Maybe there was something that he missed, but for the life of him Vladimir couldn't figure it out.

"Breakfast is ready, milord," a servant called, taking Vladimir out of his thoughts yet again. Vladimir decided to act upon this newfound good mood and give his servant a cheerful smile, the first he had ever given to anyone in years. He figured he might as well make good use of the opportunity and act a little kinder to everyone. He had been rather bitter over the past few months and it would serve as a nice change of pace. Besides, as much as he hated to admit it, he actually liked this new feeling.

"Of course, thank you!" Vladimir replied, readying his plate for the first of many courses. Perhaps he could indulge himself a little more. It was only a temporary lull in his normal personality, right? However, what he said (and did) next could be seen as proof otherwise.

"After all, a full belly makes a man happy, right?" Vladimir rhetorically asked, rhythmically patting his belly and cheerfully smiling all the same...