Now in color! By

Harvy as a massively obese, spoiled rotten bossy slob. Far too fat to do anything for himself (but eat), he just orders servants to do everything for him, sitting around making a disgusting mess of himself.

And, an accompanying slob story by

With an adorable squeaky noise, a blubbery Shinx rose from his slumber, emerald green eyes fluttering open after a lengthy sugar coma from a late-night sweets binge, the likes of which he was so accustomed to. His luxurious bed, covered in elegant silk sheets, provided excellent cushion for Harvy's bulk. The mattress bowed beneath him, the supports of the mattress audibly groaning underneath the spoiled Shinx's oppressive weight. Once fully awoken, he sprawls out and stretched his rounded limbs, deprived of tone and proper exercise, much like the rest of him. With Harvy on his back, his prodigious middle rose above him and blocked his view, while a hefty and rather feminine pair of moobs threatened to slump against his face. With a whiny, needy shout, two of his servants immediately came into the room - one, a dainty, little Fennekin, the other a burly Arcanine, almost too broad-shouldered for his uniform. Harvy held out his arms and his servants grabbed a hold, groaning to bring the fat Pokemon into a seated position. With no effort being given on the Shinx's end, his servants strained to pull his arms with the rest of his ever-rising weight. Finally seated with full consciousness, his hunger became very evident by a low, heavy rumbling deep in his gut. Clearly not one to let himself go hungry, he tells the two readily available servants to inform the kitchen staff that he's terribly peckish and should begin breakfast at once.

Within minutes, the sweet smells of food rose from the downstairs kitchen and Harvy grew restless with gnawing hunger pining away at him. The Shinx inches and starts working his body to the side, letting his fat legs dangle off towards the floor. Harvy, as of late, was never allowed to walk alone with his nosedive into the heavier end of obesity. The atrophied muscles in his legs just didn't have it in them anymore to move all of him. Regardless of what his servants told him about being too heavy, he went with what he believed - besides, he couldn't be THAT heavy, could he? Finally, he forces himself to his feet which ached as soon as he stood. All of his sagging weight fell under gravity and the weight of his belly nearly made him topple, if his more-than-ample rump didn't act as an excellent counterweight. The door wasn't too far away but, for the immense Shinx, it may as well be miles away. But he was determined to fill the growling black hole of his stomach so he vowed to get downstairs. One blubbery leg shifts forward, hindered by it's own weight and the mass of furred flab it bumped in to, causing ripples and wobbles to permeate across his gut. Seconds later, he took his next step, nearly falling over that time. Just two steps in and Harvy was feeling weary, but he pressed on, each step more and more difficult. Eventually, sweat began to drip from his body, along his brow, arms, rolls along and on the side of his gut, beneath his gut and along his thighs. He wasn't even halfway there and he was exhausted, a little tremble in his step as he forces himself further. He nears the door, but each thudding step becomes more and more difficult. The extremely large pair of violet panties were damp with sweat, as was the lacy, girly top he wore. In his chest, his poor, strained hard thudded and pounded, not used to carrying excessive hundreds of pounds of Pokemon, or any strain at all actually. Harvy pants and wheezes to draw his breaths, but his paw meets the door frame and he can finally hold himself up. His momentum keeps up a moment and, when he comes to a stop, the huge amounts of excess continue to wobble and jostle around, threatening to throw him off balance. His heart felt ready to pound out of his sweaty chest. Using the left side of his body to lean against the door frame, he lifts his right arm and wipes away the sweat from his brow, and the flab from his arm brushes along his quivering moobs, encased in his top.

Unable to go on, he collapses onto his rear end which spreads beneath him under his own weight. The resounding thud instantly draws the attention of the Arcanine from before, and he rushes to the huffing Pokemon's aid, comforting him with rubs on his back, dampening the Arcanine's paw with sweat.

"Come on now, Harvy, breakfast is ready. And we told you that you should call for help when walking - you know you're too heavy for that, sir."

"I... Don't need help walking! And I am NOT fat," he stops, takes a deep breath, and continues, "I just tripped. Now take me to the living quarters!" He remarks, refusing to let his weight get to him.

The Arcanine was a bit taken back. Did Harvy really not understand how big he was? Afraid to be chewed out further, he grabs the Shinx where he can and hoists him up, getting the obese Pokemon's sweat all over his uniform. Luckily, the Arcanine was more then capable of supporting the weight on his left side as he helped Harvy waddle along with relative ease.

---

Harvy's wide rear end dominated a couch that he lay sprawled upon, lazily watching the large TV in one of the many living areas of his expansive manor, paid for with a tremendous inheritance. At the portly Shinx's side stood the ever-dutiful Arcanine. The fire-type, whose name is not of importance, had been tending to Harvy all morning and the spoiled Pokemon's demands were, as usual, getting out of hand. Now, though, his commands and needs were temporarily quelled as platters of breakfast food had been laid out before him. Piles of bacon, dripping and shining with plethoras of grease, hashbrowns drowning similarly in the golden-brown flood, sausage links stacked high and neat in a pyramid, sugar-powdered Danishes and morning pastries aplenty. The food in front of him wasn't all he would eat that morning - this was merely the first wave, as the rest remained in the kitchen. Harvy, as lazy as he was, did not allow a middle man to come between him and his food. He took care of his own eating, even though it was rather difficult with his overhanging gut and plump moobs getting in the way and bloated, motion-limited arms making things difficult to reach for. Utensils were never a factor for Harvy either and preferred direct plate-to-mouth or using his dainty paws to clench fistfuls of food to his greedy maw. The Arcanine stood close by, watching Harvy as he devoured enough food to feed a large family in the morning, and that it likely wasn't enough to fill him up. Bacon overflowed his maw and grease drips from his maw, very faintly tinting his chins and chubby cheeks a faint yellow. He chases down the mouthful with heavy cream straight from a jug, some of it dripping onto his chins and down to his moobs, both of which are jostling some with how much effort he's putting into eating and drinking. The platter of hashbrowns is lifted and brought to his maw, letting the entirety of them, puddles of grease and all, fall into the cavernous pit of his jaws. Each sugary Danish and delight was crammed into his mouth and reduced to nothing in mere seconds, powdered sugar plastered to his cheeks and chins with the help of the grease.

"More food! I'm gonna starve!" he calls out after a lasting, tonsil-rattling belch that makes his staff wince some. He slumps along the couch and huffs, squirming around until more food was brought out.

The process was repeated and the helplessly obese Shinx stuffed himself with copious mounds of greasy food, making quite the mess of himself. Four full courses and both the Shinx and the kitchen staff had met their limits. Harvy was full to the brim with sugar, grease, and food and it showed. His belly was normally immensely soft with a consistency not unlike cookie dough; however, after such an immense meal, it was taut and felt like a furry - and currently matted with food and grease - rubber ball. The girly top he wore was barely clinging on and, if Harvy's breathless whining and panting weren't drowning it out, you could probably hear the creaking of its seams. The previously tight pair of panties dug further into his waist and, after sweating and sitting for so long, they were slowly becoming wedged between the two enormous, black-furred mounds of fat. His pelt couldn't handle much more stretching over his incredibly swollen, churning gut. In fact, his belly produced such loud gurgles from digesting the slurry of greasy food and sugar that it was heard over his whining and huffing. Just from the exertion of cramming so much food in his maw, he sweated almost as profusely as he had when trying to walk from his bed to the door.

Harvy pants and breathes, a bit difficult with how full he is and all the weight atop him and, accompanying each breath, was a tiny wheeze. The Arcanine eased himself close to the stuffed Shinx and positioned his face over the greasy-furred one. Harvy does his best to look adorable, and that wasn't hard; however, it diminished quickly. A particularly noisy gurgle rose up from his innards and the pressure of being full heightened. He squirmed and rubbed over his stretched pelt, huffing and puffing still. The sweat and grease on his cheeks shined as he struggled. Finally, with the fire-type mere inches from his face, an enormous belch rises up from his chest, spattering the Arcanine's face with saliva. In relief, the Shinx moans a bit, interrupted by smaller, following burps, all of which meet the Arcanine's face. It takes a lot for the Shinx's servant to not shout at Harvy, and he takes a deep breath before pulling away and wiping his face free of saliva.

"Rub my.. uuurrrp.. belly!" Harvy shouts, sprawling horizontally along the couch, exposing the massive, heaving, and sweat-matted dome of his gut to the Arcanine.

The fire-type sighs and reluctantly stoops down beside Harvy. His broad, strong paws run over the Shinx's gut, tracing his claws only through the fur as to not scratch or irritate the sensitive flesh beneath. With the feeling of greasy, sweaty fr beneath his paws, the Arcanine winces, certainly not pleased to be rubbing the unsanitary Shinx who hasn't bathed or showered in a long time, because of his laziness and inability to properly fit inside the tub. A shout rings out from Harvy's maw and another servant, the small Fennekin from before, is brought to his side and told to rub his feet. While saying that, he wiggles the digits on each footpaw and grins innocently. The Fennekin hated this job for the same reason the Arcanine didn't want to rub the unhygienic Shinx's gut. His aching paws, liked the rest of him, were certainly sweaty and, after trying to walk early, very achy and in need of a rub.

Nearly an hour passes, and the spoiled Pokemon's belly has stopped it's noisy churning and softened up some, with the expulsion of gas from both ends, much to the displeasure of his servants. He had also tired of the rubs and so had his servants who longed to sit down and relax. With considerable struggle, Harvy got sat back up and yawned quietly.

"I want to go to the bathroom so I can look in the mirror and weigh myself, so I can see how good I look and how much weight I've lost... Now!"

The Arcanine and Fennekin looked at each other and sighed. They were perplexed as to how Harvy truly believed he was losing weight. They grabbed his fleshy arms and strained to get the Shinx to his feet, while Harvy put no effort in, merely smiling innocently as his servants do the work. Harvy is brought to his feet and the hoist his arms up some and casually lead his ponderous bulk. Despite having assistance, he had to put in a good deal of effort in order to keep himself standing and waddling. Just this bit of strain brought more sweat to the Shinx's brow and left him huffing and puffing. The Arcanine dabbed at Harvy's head with a rag, trying to keep him from being drenched, while Harvy complains of light-headed and having chest pains, caused by his heart thudding against his chest as firmly as his burdened feet hit the ground. Each step forward rushed his thick thighs together and sent wobbles throughout the entirety of his body. Finally, with struggles from both parties, they reached the bathroom and Harvy gets set up upon the special, industrial scale meant for cattle. With both feet planted on it, the needle spins quickly but Harvy can't see it over the food-stained protrusion of his gut or his moobs that could make any woman jealous.

"What does it- uuuuurp- say?" he asked, growing impatient with his servants.

The Arcanine stoops down, uncomfortably close to his boss's body. Hearing the subtle gurgling inside of Harvy's stomach makes the fire-type grin and even blush beneath the orange fur. The digital reading read 850. 850 pounds of pure lard stuffed into such a small frame. The Arcanine stood up and reluctantly told Harvy his weight. Harvy shouted at him and told him it was impossible and was going to be punished for insulting him. His punishment? Carrying his "small" body back to his bed so he may nap after his meal. Alone. The Fennekin snickers and leaves the room to let him endure his punishment. Not willing to backtalk, the Arcanine heaves and starts moving Harvy along, who makes sure this remains a punishment by going almost entirely limp and becoming a veritable dead weight against the fire-type. His gut moulds and squished against his canine servant, sweaty moobs pressing against him and coating the Arcanine in a layer of sweat that wasn't his own. Harvy's poor servant grunts, muscles tightening so he doesn't drop the engorged brat he's forced to carry. By the time the Arcanine gets the blue Pokemon back to his bed, he feels much like Harvy does after just a few steps, and is left gasping for breath. The Shinx spread himself out along the bed and yawns adorably. He grins wide and makes grabby-paws at the tuckered Arcanine.

"I can't nap without cuddles..." Harvy whines and pouts out his lower lip, even giving his very best puppy-dog eyes.

The Arcanine desperately wishes to decline but he can't fight those pitiful, little eyes. He climbs up onto the bed which splinters some from the extra weight. Instantly, the Shinx wraps his marshmallowy arms around the burly, muscular fire-type and shifts his weight on him, smothering his servant in hundreds of pounds of blue blubber. Harvy belches right in the Arcanine's face and then rests his head on him.

"... So what's for lunch?"