The late afternoon sun poured over the grassy clearing like warm honey. A soft breeze rustled the leaves above, but not enough to disturb the enormous figure sprawled comfortably across a towel barely big enough to contain his girth.

Oakley, the overly pampered and delightfully rotund wolf, let out a slow, pleased groan as he shifted his bulk ever so slightly, his gut sloshing with the sound of recent indulgence. His hefty limbs stretched just enough to let his belly wobble and settle again like pudding in the sun.

"Nggh... sun’s got some bite today," Oakley murmured, shielding his eyes lazily with a pudgy paw, claws glinting in the light.

He felt his gut rise and fall with every heavy breath, the warm rays soaking into his thick fur and swollen belly. Occasional glints of golden runes flickered along his sides—some mystical decoration or artifact of gluttony that pulsed with a sleepy glow.

"Too full to move... again," he mumbled, one ear twitching as a fly dared to investigate his vast side. His other paw rested atop the crest of his belly, which peaked high above his chest like a furry mountain.

A soft burp escaped him, followed by a sleepy chuckle. "That was from lunch... or was it second lunch?"