A rather large dragon, used to snacking and a sedentary lifestyle, is forced to complete a fitness test with varying obstacles. Will he find, however, that the most difficult obstacle is his own size?

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Arge was regretting his biggest lie.

Well, he was regretting a lot of things right now, actually. Especially the amount of drinking he’d done last night. And the huge meal from earlier to get rid of his hangover. It hadn’t even helped, only making him feel heavy and sluggish.

But right now, the large, gray dragon’s biggest regret was lying about having a single drop of military experience. That, and the implication that he’d ever actually gotten any exercise in his life, outside of walking from place to place. His rather portly figure should have suggested as much. When he jogged—or, well, did his best impression of it—the constant bouncing of his paunch and the jiggling all over every flabby limb was evidence enough. Saying his basic training and actual combat days were ‘long ago’ hadn’t gotten him out of the fitness test he was severely unqualified for.

It wasn’t even like he wanted to be in the military or anything, either. But Arge knew that if he could pretend to be, he could gain access to higher levels of clearance in the base, without a whole lot of hassle convincing anyone who questioned him. Although, as Arge panted heavily beneath the weight of jiggling adipose coating his tall, broad frame, he didn’t feel very convincing.

The testing arena looked more like an obstacle course, testing his speed, strength, and endurance. Looking at it with his head cocked to the side, he was pretty sure his biggest challenge would be the amount of sheer willpower he needed to muster into bullshitting this act. He hoped that other dragons going through the same tests for their own reasons would take a portion of the attention off of himself, at least. Not all of them were very fit. He would most certainly be bringing up the rear of the group, but hopefully not the only one to fall behind.

“Alright, come up to the line. You’ll all be starting at the same time while we track your progress.” A younger, visibly fit dragon directed them to the start of the test course. He gave out the instructions, adding at the end, “Remember, this isn’t a race or anything; your abilities will be measured independently.”

Arge resisted an amused snort. Good.

The same dragon waved them into place. “Get ready.”

The actual start was uneventful, just sending them off onto the course as quick as they could manage. Arge was immediately last in the group, his heavy body moving slow. He remembered his large breakfast and stifled a groan. The extra weight in his gut wasn’t helping. The first test was a series of awkward wooden slats sticking out of the ground to jump over without tripping, which was obviously easy for most of the group. When Arge got to the area, he immediately struggled; not particularly due to the exercise of simply stepping over them, but also not being able to see his toes around the massive curve of his belly provided more of an obstacle than anything else. He growled quietly as he swore to go on a diet for the bajillionth time. He seemed to never get around to it.

He stubbed his chubby toes a few times stepping over the complicated wooden slats, his belly sloshing from side to side with the distribution of his weight. Every movement sent a cascade of ripples through the fat, each doughy thigh pressing up into the overhang of his gut with each step, and the thunderous layers of lard between them squishing by each other. The generous curve of his haunches wobbled as his thickened tail lifted above each piece of wood he stepped over. To anyone else, the distance crossing the wooden slats was brief, but to Arge’s blubbery, swaying figure, it felt like a lifetime.

Finally on the other side, he tried to breathe in relief, although it came out more as heavy panting, the fat rolls of his chest rising and falling. He knew the worst wasn’t over. The previous test had probably been to observe his agility, but up ahead was thick, sturdy netting strung up to a wall he could see other dragons already climbing over. To test strength, maybe. It didn’t really matter, it looked hard either way.

Huffing as he came up to the net, the last of the others were already disappearing over the top of the wall. Well, he didn’t have to be first, he just had to finish. He’d already known he’d stand out in last place, and tried not to be self conscious as he gripped the ropes in his paws and began to pull himself up. The squares of the net immediately squeezed into the soft scales of his belly as it pushed heavily into the ropes; he had his arms fully extended for climbing, and the rest of him smushed up against any surface in front of him as he made his way upward. He gritted his teeth and felt his chubby fingers straining tightly at each pull, the net sliding across every bulging curve it touched. He was no weakling, but he had an awful lot of weight to haul. He was out of breath when he finally reached the top of the wall. Leaning over it, the top indented the pudge of his midsection, and he had the jarring realization that as he swung his leg up, the hanging lard of his belly was having trouble squeezing over the wall. He sucked in, trying not to lose his balance as he wiggled to inch the biggest bulge of his lard over the top. As he moved enough to swing his other leg over, the sturdy wood rubbed beneath the overhang of his blubber and he realized as he climbed back down, the ropes would be pressing up on his belly for the entire descent. Having to reach around wasn’t really any different from his way up, but this time, each rope would probably catch under his gut in a way that would make it embarrassingly jiggle. He gritted his teeth in annoyance.

Sure enough, with his shelf of a gut over the wall and his softly padded body finally able to move downward, the netting squeezed against his chub’s underside. The soft scales of his belly moved fluidly with the extra jostling, although Arge had to work harder to maintain his balance. Clenching hard with his jiggling arms on the way down, he was more aware than ever of the amount of weight making his body so slow. The soft folding of his gut over the ropes with each step ensured that.

He let out a massive sigh of relief when he reached the ground. He wanted to give himself a moment to stretch and flex his arms, but knew he was being timed and immediately started toward the next test, although he was no longer running. It would have seemed more like a slow shuffling at this point anyway, and wouldn’t have made much of a difference if he tried any faster. It had already been long enough that the others had finished the last test up ahead, even the less-fit stragglers Arge had initially compared himself to. He couldn’t even really blame the assessment team if they told him he was too wildly unfit to be confirmed as military personnel. But for now, he needed to at least wanted to pass this test for himself, if nothing else.

The last obstacle in the arena was a relatively small tunnel he’d have to crawl through on his elbows and knees. His knees were already sort of hurting, and his arms were kind of tired, so he figured it didn’t really matter what he did because it was automatically going to suck.

Coming up to it, the tunnel didn’t look any better up close, the ground already packed hard by everyone else passing through and plenty of dirt stirred up to make sure he’d be finding it in his scales for a week. At least it was short, more like a brief, wooden arch built into a structure that connected to the ground. He lowered himself to the ground as quickly as possible, the ample padding on his midsection spreading around him from the pressure of his own weight piling on itself. His chubby limbs working hard, he twisted his body back and forth to make his way inside. As his broad shoulders brushed the sides, he was excited to see the opening of the other side right in front of his face. This test was basically only the skill of pushing forward on all fours with his torso against the ground. He knew he could do that. Then he’d be directly at the end of the course, and could put this entire embarrassing fitness test behind him.

As he wriggled into the hole, though, he noticed himself slow as the edges pressed into his bulging sides. He kept going, sucking in his stomach and pushing himself forward, but the tunnel continued to press against his blubber increasingly tight until he found himself unexpectedly stopped. He tried looking back to see what he’d done wrong, but the way his extra chins bunched up when he turned his head prevented him from being able to see. He gave himself a wiggle, feeling the tightness of the tunnel clinging to his sides. Was he simply too big? The tunnel had looked fairly average, just small enough to force everyone to crawl. He hadn’t considered that he might quite literally be too fat to finish the course.

The thought put him somewhere between anger and panic. He was angry at the horrible diet he always made excuses for, and the exercise he… also made excuses for. But still, the panic of not being able to get through the tunnel made his heart race. He’d expected to finish last, and admittedly, he’d also expected to not do very well. But being disqualified by being literally too fat to complete the test at all hadn’t occurred to him.

With a frustrated growl, he sucked in again and pushed himself forward another inch or two. His arms and legs were tired, but he wasn’t ready to just give up. Another couple of strong shoves sent his body bouncing back against either side of the hole. The chub rippled back and forth like an uncertain ocean, but it wasn’t long until he realized he was finally firmly wedged. He stopped straining for a moment to catch his breath. He sighed. He knew he had to do this. Putting a paw on each side of the tunnel, he shoved again, trying to squeeze just a little bit more flab past the edges. His head and shoulders had already emerged on the other side, allowing him to move his arms more freely, but so far the straining was getting him nowhere.

I’m not going to give up, he reminded himself firmly. Unsure what to try next, he tried kneading at the edge of his flab to see if he could physically pull it through a little at a time. He was able to draw more and more rolls from the edge of the hole, but it didn’t help the lower half of his gut at all, still stuck on the other side. He gave himself another wiggle, his chubby paws clawing the ground. He was so close! This couldn’t be the end.

After several more heaves, Arge was startled to actually hear a crack directly above him. He paused, unsure what was happening, until the wooden tunnel structure actually splintered and shattered around him. The release of pressure on his sides immediately allowed the flab to spill out and push the broken edges away. Rolls of gray scales jiggled as they were freed from their prison, his heavy adipose cushioning him against any damage from the shards.

Great. He’d literally broken the course.

“I think we’ve seen enough.”

The voice of one of the dragons tracking him snapped Arge out of his thoughts. He was positive his cheeks were turning a much darker shade beneath the other dragon’s scrutiny. He wasn’t sure how to react; should he apologize? Had this ever happened before? Maybe if he acted just angry and indignant at this clearly-biased test, they wouldn’t notice the embarrassed flush of his face.

The other dragon flipped through a clipboard of papers in his paws. “Well, your time wasn’t great. And it’s kind of a unique circumstance that you didn’t actually finish the course.”

Arge resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Really? They were doing this? The dragon didn’t need to mock him, Arge was well aware of a few glaring problems.

“Your agility and balance weren’t bad, considering your… physique,” the other dragon continued, apparently oblivious to Arge’s exasperated expression. He seemed to be taking the grading very seriously. His tone was flat and unbiased. “And hauling someone of your weight up the ropes was a great show of strength.”

Arge stared. Where was this going?

“The last test… well… your solution was unconventional.” The other dragon finally sounded awkward for a second as he flipped through another page of scores, but he regained his composure. “However, we’re willing to let you pass, on one condition.”

Arge pricked his ears. They were serious? “What’s the condition?”

“That you never come back.” The other dragon stared blankly at Arge’s expression. “You’ll have to take your next fitness test somewhere else. My superior said so. Sorry.”

“That sounds like a deal.” Arge was in a little bit of shock. He’d passed! Okay, well not really, but he didn’t care. It got him the same result: He’d officially lied his way into high military clearance.

Leaving the course, still a bit overwhelmed, Arge wondered what he should do. He should celebrate! He didn’t really have anything in mind, but remembered passing a little bakery on his way to the test he could go check out. He’d worked up quite an appetite.

Besides; his diet could wait a little longer. It always did.