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Part II: An Unfair Exchange

Rascal felt like he was falling, but straight up. It was sort of like flying, but in a terrifying, uncontrolled sort of way. He felt very numb and cold, as if he were traversing in the upper atmosphere, but only a little later, he completely lost sensation of his body. He might have been frozen solid and hurtling through space or he might have been floating in a still and endless void. It was impossible to tell. The border collie couldn't feel his heart beating and he couldn't draw breath, though he wasn't suffocating. There was no sensation whatsoever. Just an emptiness that he filled with his own conscious thoughts, though even those thoughts seemed to be leeched away in the grip of the vast emptiness. Rascal wondered if this was what it was like to be dead.

Later, an eternity later maybe, Rascal felt like he was being pulled in a new direction. He allowed himself to go because in that direction lay warmth and light, though it seemed infinitely far away. It seemed, as he stared into the abyss, that he saw a face there, the face of a tan human female with captivating eyes and a seductive, witchy gaze. But every time he tried to focus on it, the image disappeared. Slowly, very slowly, sensation returned. Rascal could feel his heart first, though it was a bit different, it felt like it was beating a little faster. Next came the sensation of speed and falling, falling back down now. He was returning after an indescribably long journey. He stretched his paws out before him, wanting to return to the Earth, away from the vast void. His paws too felt a little funny, heavier than normal. There was a myriad of little aches throughout his body and he felt drained, tired, like he'd spent all the previous day running and was just beat the following day. Maybe it wasn't surprising, given how far he'd come, but something just felt off... The ground was hard and firm under him and Rascal moved his paws. He took what seemed like the first breath in ages and coughed as a little phlegm caught in the back of his throat. He was awake.

When Rascal opened his eyes, he was sure he was still dreaming. He was looking at a mirror or something because he saw plainly himself sitting a short distance away. "Rascal." He heard himself say, "Are you awake, Rascal?" Rascal's eyes opened but reluctantly, he was still feeling really tired. He stretched his paws while lying on the ground and felt his spine crackle and pop. "Oh... that felt odd." He thought. He could feel himself coming more and more awake, but still, the mirror image of himself didn't dissipate. He wondered where Rose was. Ugh... it kind of felt was she was lying on top of him...

"Rascal. I need you to stay calm. Can you do that?" The other-Rascal insisted. Rascal started to get up to tell his phantom image to go back to wherever it came from, but he stopped dead in his tracks. Something was really wrong.

"Rascal, look at me." Said the image, but Rascal's eyes opened in horror as he looked out over his body... all of his body.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, Fuck!" Rascal chanted, covering his eyes with a paw. "This isn't happening. This isn't fucking happening!" he used the very worst word that he knew, but still it wasn't enough to describe the situation, what he'd seen. Rascal tried to roll onto his stomach, but his enormous belly got in the way and he ended flopping back and forth like a stranded turtle, growing more panicked by the second.

Someone grabbed him by the shoulders, "Rascal! Stay calm. Don't get yourself all worked up!" the phantom image said with his voice.

Rascal opened his mouth and said, "This isn't real! This can't be happening." But instead of the tones he was familiar with, a different voice came forth from his throat, higher pitched and a little husky. It was a voice he recognized. Rascal stopped shaking and somehow he was already winded. He panted hard and fast, his heart had sped up to a degree he only knew when he was running full out.

"Rascal." The other-rascal said again and Rascal, though he didn't want to admit it, knew who it was. "Rascal." The voice was calmer now, soothing, "calm down... and listen to me. Deep breaths now." Rascal breathed deeply, the morning air smelled nice before the fair started. "Good, you'll feel better soon."

His mind was still wrestling with itself, but he knew. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew. He knew the markings of white and black on his grossly expanded flank; he'd spent long enough examining them last night. His mouth whispered the question. "Rose?"

Rascal's body smiled. "Good. Most don't get it that fast. I knew you were special."

Rascal hacked up some clear white mucus that felt like it came from his lungs. "I told you not to get yourself worked up. That'll happen when you go all crazy like that. You gotta learn to take it easy." Said Rose using Rascal's mouth.

Rascal shook his head and felt the rolls of fat bulging to either side, he was still panting. "I don't... understand..." was as far as he got before he succumbed to another bout of harsh coughing.

Rose cocked Rascal's head and sighed, "Remember when I told you I was eight years old?"

Rascal nodded, still panting, it was like he couldn't catch his breath.

"Well... that was a lie." Rose straightened up Rascal's body, "I'm more like _fifty-_eight."

The realization and implications was like a pit opening up under him. He was falling again, but this time there was no waking up from it. It was like he had the whole situation spread out before him, but the details kept slipping through his paws. Really, he didn't want to know. But Rose enlightened him anyway. "Rascal..." She put Rascal's paw on Rose's fat shoulder, "I've swapped bodies with you."

Rascal wasn't surprised, he had just been waiting for her to say it. He muttered one question as he tried to keep the tears from filling his new eyes, "Why?"

Rose put her paw on Rascal's tummy and patted it gently. Rascal could feel the ripples traveling up and down his bloated torso. She leaned on it, pressing well into the fat which enveloped her paw up to the wrist. "Well, I think the answer is pretty obvious. That body is old, far too obese for its own good, and really just not in that great of health."

Rascal was aware of the great amount of weight on his chest and also of the fact that he couldn't draw in breath as deeply as he used to. Though he felt flush in his cheeks, his heart finally started to slow as his breaths became deeper and more even. Rascal tried sitting up again, but he just sort of raised his head and didn't get any farther even though he strained with the muscles in his shoulders and back. Giving up, he collided back against the ground with a soft, "Ooof!"

"Just give it some time, you'll get used to it." Said the not-Rose, "My advice is to use your paws. I never got anywhere straining with my back and shoulders."

Rascal couldn't hold back the tears any longer. He'd spent three minutes in Rose's body and already he couldn't stand it. She kept talking like it was permanent... 'Please, God, this can't be real.' He pleaded silently. Aloud he said, still shaking his head and crinkling the fatty rolls to either side, "I still don't understand... how?"

"Well, I thought it'd be obvious." Rose stretched out a paw and batted the turquoise and copper earring dangling from Rascal's right ear. He could see its twin on the left ear of his former body, a fresh scab already forming around the piercing. Rose lied down until she was snout to snout with Rascal's heaving form. "You know, what I told you was true. About the lab, my home and the gypsy camp. The only thing is that I was fifteen years old by the time the gypsies ran across me, half starved in the snow, and that was back in 1965." Rose put a grin on Rascal's face, it was still strange to see it moving without his command. "They nursed me back from the brink, but still, I was so old. A gypsy woman, though, fell in love with me and didn't want to let me go. So she asked her grandmother for these earrings and spent the greater part of a year looking for a dog that looked almost exactly like me. Well by that time, I was wetting myself and having seizures almost every day. I couldn't walk, but when she put that earring on my ear and its mate on the other dog's ear... well, I was young again."

Rascal felt sick to his stomach, "...And that other dog?"

Rose frowned and cocked her ears oddly as if she still wasn't used to the shape of them. "Died a week later. What did you expect?"

Rascal felt like his heart was being ripped open. How could he have had feelings for someone so selfish? Well, he was more the fool now wasn't he? Rascal found his voice, but no matter how he tried, it came out as a female's. "And what, you just keep on jumping bodies? Using them up, making them huge and then jumping to another?"

"No, no. You have it all wrong. That body was already over 80 lbs by the time I swapped. It has some kind of gland deficiency or something."

"You said you liked to eat." Said Rascal, as if getting her to admit to the lesser evil would somehow defeat the giant one was staring him in the face.

"Well... not everything comes with you, you know. Some stuff is physical and that stays with the body. I was hungry all the time in that body, and you know what? It felt good eating too. You'll notice that right away." Said Rose. She lifted a hind leg and expertly scratched at her lean, muscular shoulder. "Oh, yes, that feels good."

Rascal couldn't believe he was having this conversation with his body snatcher. He got up - slowly, and like she insisted, using his paws to work himself up - and it felt good looking at himself levelly now. Rascal didn't like the expression Rose was putting on his face. "I want my body back!"

Rose smirked and rolled her eyes, "They all end up saying that eventually. You know, you don't know how lucky you are you stuck around for me to explain all this to you. How would you have liked to wake up with no explanation at all? That's happened loads of times before."

Rascal lifted his lips and growled, though as he pressed his jaws together, he felt a sharp pain in the teeth on the right side of his mouth. "You undo what you did or... or..." He was so angry he was shaking.

"Or what?" asked Rose brightly. "You'll sit on me? Hey!"

Rose hopped back as Rascal lashed forward with a bite, but his heavy rump stuck him to the ground as firmly as if it were glued and he barely managed to catch himself from falling flat on his face as he was thrown off balance.

Rose came back around, veritably dancing on her springy paws, "Hands off the goods." She said. And then she took off at a flat run out to the fence bordering the fair and then back just as fast, grinning madly the whole time. She wasn't even breathing as heavily as Rascal had been a couple minutes ago. "Wow, I'd forgotten how good it feels to run. I'm going to like this."

Rascal wanted to bite his own head off. "So... what? You're just going to be me now?" he asked as if that were completely unlikely.

Rose jogged in place, "That's the plan." She said brightly, the earring in her ear danced to and fro. "And what on Earth did you eat last night?! I had the worst diarrhea this morning!"

Rascal would have traded the worst diarrhea in the world for his tired, achy, four-times-as heavy-as-it-should-be body. He shifted his weight left and right, his forepaws seemingly draped over the girth of his new belly. The sensation of weight was incredible. "But you don't even know where I live."

Rose settled down, panting happily with Rascals lean muscled chest. "Well, that's the catcher isn't it? You could have gone home and that'd be the end of the story. But you stayed and you were just so sweet to me despite how fat and ugly I was."

"...are..." Rascal muttered under his breath.

She continued. "But I think you're going to go ahead and tell me where your family is."

Rascal lifted his ears, also a bit awkwardly, Rose's ears were much flatter than his own. "Why on Earth would I do that?"

Rose leaned closer, the breath coming out of Rascal's young body smelled sweet compared to Rose's chronic halitosis. "Because I'm going to do something for you that I've never done before in all my long years." Rose reached a paw up and gently grasped the earring she was wearing between the pads of her forepaw. With great care, she slid the earring out of the fresh hole, wincing a bit as fresh blood trickled out of the new hole. "I hate getting my ears pierced..." she muttered. Once it was out, she reached foreward and carefully hooked it back in place on Rascal's double collar. Rascal sat silently and let her do it. Once she was done, Rose said, "Those earrings are my most precious possession and I'm giving them to you until the county fair next year. You have until then to switch yourself with a new body."

Rascal looked at her with an uncomprehending expression. 'Was she really asking him to do what she seemed to be asking?'

Seeing his wide, staring eyes, Rose cocked her head and then sweetened the deal. "I'll tell you what. If you find someone who's not too old, I'll swap you your old body back. I haven't ever offered anyone that before."

Rascal stared down at the earring dangling down his wide, sagging neck. "Well..." he said, fingering the earring in one paw; the other paw was solid against the floor with his newfound weight. "If I have the earrings, what's to stop me from going back to my house and just swapping back with you?"

Rose laughed, coming out of a male voice, the sound was practically antagonistic. "Someone's feeling naughty. Well, even if you manage to haul that fat ass down to wherever you live, do you really think you can overpower a young male in his prime? I'm stronger and faster than you and I've had over fifty years of experience with this sort of thing." Rose leaned in close, almost touching nose and with savage eyes said, "I really don't think you want to play games with me."

Rascal shrank back, but the cloud that had descended over her features was gone almost instantly. She added non-commitally, "Besides, once you swap bodies, it's impossible to swap back. You can only swap with other people. Getting a third dog to swap with you and then swapping that body with me is the only way you're going to get this nice, young body back again." Rose flexed her muscular shoulders as if to emphasize her point. "Wow, you know, it's kinda nice being male again; it feels powerful. I haven't had a male body in oh, twenty years..."

"Oh shit..." Rascal could not keep himself from saying. He dropped his paw and felt as well as he could around the lower confines of his tummy. He felt nothing but more fat, but the thick nipples lining his belly and the sensation of his crotch against the ground told him everything he needed to know. He wasn't a dog anymore. He was a bitch.

Rose read him as easily as a book. "Look at it as an opportunity to explore your feminine side. It's a unique learning experience. It'll open your mind and sweeten your love life. I think I'll let you discover all the fun little things for yourself." She said with a wink.

Somehow the realization that he was now the opposite gender was an even bigger shock than the fact that he had swapped bodies had been, even though it was readily obvious. Rascal looked at the ground and braced himself against the floor with his paws. Rascal felt like he was hyperventilating, but he was just breathing shallowly.

Rose stood up and patted Rascal's back, "Deep breaths, deep breaths. Don't be so beat up about it, what's done is done. Besides, you said you liked that fat thing right?"

"I like... fat bitches." Said Rascal as he tried to concentrate on breathing deeply.

"Well... now you certainly are one!" said Rose in a congratulatory tone, though she kept her paw on Rascal's back. "So, what? We have a deal? If you don't want to snatch someone else's body, just say so and I'll take my earrings and be on my way."

Rascal still wanted to hold onto the hope that Rose would see reason. "And live your life as a stray?"

Rose shrugged casually. "I've been a stray before..." She reached up and batted the tags at the bottom of her red collar. "But I think these might tell the dog catcher where you lived, doncha think?"

That was it, Rascal was defeated. He gave a great shuddering sigh that felt like something was being torn deep down inside his body. "3428 East Timber Drive. The suburb complex is right across the corn field on the other side of the fair. My family should already be home, they'll be worried sick about me."

"Thanks." Rose said with a last pat on Rascal's fatty back. "I really appreciate your cooperation. And as for my side of the bargain, to swap with someone, just put the extra earring in the left ear of your dog and, here's the tricky bit, you both have to be unconscious at the same time. And that's it, easy as pie." Rose got up in one smooth motion and looked out across the fairgrounds which were grinding back into life. She She held a paw to her chin as she thought. Her ears perked up as the sound of kibble being poured into a tin bowl came from inside the trailer. "Oh that reminds me, you have really bad teeth on the right side of your mouth. I'm pretty sure at least one of them's infected unfortunately. However, the jerk's going to soften up the kibble with tasty chicken broth. I recommend not bothering with chewing at all and just horking it down whole. And good news! You can have as much kibble and chicken broth as you like; he'll even warm it up for you."

Rascal probed the right side of his mouth with his tongue and indeed felt the stabbing pain of neglected teeth, "Yeah... great."

Rose sat down and looked levelly at Rascal. She was very somber for a moment before saying. "One last thing before I go... kinda important. You're pregnant."

Rascal was dumbfounded and his jaw literally dropped, "P-Pregnant! I can't be pregnant, I'm a male!"

"No, I'm a male, two year-old collie." Rose corrected, "You're a super-morbidly obese, eight year old female with about ten pups in her belly."

"T-Ten?!" Rascal almost yelled.

"Trust me, I know about these kinds of things." Said Rose with a wink.

Rascal's mouth was still hanging open as there were footsteps from inside the trailer. Rose got up and said quickly, "Yeah, it was nice Labrador about a month ago in Brandon. Very friendly and very drunk at the time. I was in heat and well... randy as hell. One thing led to another and boy..." Rose laughed, "Was he surprised when he woke up the next morning!"

Rascal was too stupefied to talk. As the door to the trailer opened, "the jerk" tottered down the steps with a seemingly unending line of cursing under his breath. Rose was ready to bolt, but she barked, "Due date's in just over four weeks, hon! I really hope you survive the delivery-Aiieeee!" Rose yelped as the man tossed a rock at her. After Rose passed around the other side of the trailer, that was the last time that Rascal saw his old body for an entire year.

The old man muttered, "Muthfucin' stra'dogs 'roundere."

Rascal slumped to the ground, indeed his knees couldn't touch the ground for the depth of his belly, just as a huge bowl brimming with brown kibble and swimming in chicken broth was put in front of him. "Et'up 'ere fattog." Said the man as he stood over Rascal. After about a minute, it was pretty obvious that he wasn't leaving until he started eating. Rascal didn't want to think about what would happen if he refused to eat and anyways, like Rose had mentioned, there was a cavernous gnawing inside him and a big bowl of kibble and savory chicken broth seemed like just the thing to cure it.

The first bite Rascal chomped down on the grub and immediately regretted it. It felt like someone had taken a nail and driven it into the gum on the right side of his mouth. He learned his lesson, but it was hard remembering to just use his tongue to scoop the kibble and broth into his mouth and then swallow. He'd always used to chew his food thoroughly and his family had brushed his teeth at least every other day. It was hard to think that all the time he and his humans had spent on his health and well being were now for naught; worse, the benefits were now being enjoyed by someone else.

Rascal lapped at the bowl. The chicken broth was good, but the kibble didn't really have any flavor; it must have been a cheap brand. The brown bits of the dry food went down in soggy lumps down his throat. It was easier than he would have thought to swallow pretty big mouthfuls. His throat must have been accustomed to it. Despite the strangeness of everything that had happened, it was surprisingly easy to get the entire bowl down. Rascal thought he must still be in shock, but at least eating was... pretty much the same and somehow, it felt right. He definitely had the sense that this body was used to the routine.

While Rascal made the mistake of chewing with the wrong side of his mouth more than once, the rhythm of lapping and swallowing was easy to pick up and soon - surprisingly soon - the big bowl was empty and the older, squat human was picking up the dish. The graying man rinsed out the tin bowl with a garden hose and left it on the sill to dry. Returning, Rascal coughed and wiggled as the man strong-armed him up against his chest. The sensation was uncomfortable, in fact, given how much he now weighed and the man's bony forearms, it hurt a bit and he squirmed against the man's confining arms.

"Dm'fattog! Stoppit now." Cursed the man and he crushed Rascal to his chest. For such an old human, the power in his arms was overwhelming. It hurt worse than before and Rascal was afraid, but he was held fast at his chest and belly. The man's arm's were like vices. As he carried Rascal over to the exhibit and extended a small set of folding steps that led into the pit he guessed he would be spending the day, he wondered if he would ever feel a gentle pair of human hands again...

That first day was hard. Rascal spent most of the day lying in his bed and weeping. Homesickness consumed him. He wanted his family back. There were no loving human eyes here, only looks of undisguised surprise and disgust. He was far away from any reassuring pats. Being on display seemed to turn all of the beauty he had seen in this body last night into hideousness and shame. Rascal tried to convince himself that he at least shouldn't feel ashamed since it wasn't his fault he was now so obese, but he felt it anyways.

A little after noon, the exhibit closed so that Rascal could have a potty break. His digestive system was obviously on a strict routine because he found he needed to go almost as soon as the aged human put him down on the grass. Rascal had trouble squatting, in fact, he just had a little trouble being on his feet at all. His balance felt all wrong and his joints ached after supporting his weight for merely minutes. Foolishly, when he started to go, he tried lifting his leg. His remaining leg buckled under his weight and he fell right on his fleshy hip, getting the inside of his leg wet in the process. _'Ewww...!' _ he thought as he struggled to stop, though his change in anatomy somewhat complicated the procedure.

He got up and waddled a bit further away before trying again. Of course, he wasn't used to it coming straight down and wound up getting his ankles wet also. Rascal felt strangely barren and empty with the loss of his member and equipment. Though, he realized as he looked around at himself, that the space where it would have been was currently occupied by his low hanging gut. And then he remembered what Rose had said right before he had left. 'Pregnant?' he thought again and the concept seemed unfathomable. 'With ten?!' Rascal had to admit that there was certainly plenty of room in there for any number of pups.

By the end of that first day, Rascal had just about cried himself out. He'd done nothing the entire day but sit there on that bed and have people up above staring down at him. He suffered being picked up and trundled into the trailer that night when the last of the guests had left. The man, Rascal's new owner, was silent as he lifted and carried him, a stark contrast to his former family who were always talking to him and calling him by name. As Rascal breathed in after being set on the linoleum floor of the trailer's tiny kitchen, he had to admit that Rose was right, it stank in here. Predominately, the odor was mildew, but layered under that was unmistakably: sweat, old tomato sauce, spilled juice and decade old popery. The man - it was indeed becoming increasingly difficult not to call him 'the jerk' - took off his coat and shirt and then threw his grimy beige slacks over the back of his one chair, leaving him once again in his undershirt and boxers. Rascal watched from the floor as he shuffled over. He had to scoot madly across the floor as the man failed to alter his course or even step over his bloated form, which in the human's defense did rather take up a lot of the kitchen floor space. Fortunately, the kick in the stomach hardly registered with his more than foot deep blubber padding the blow. The can opener screamed as the human opened a can of chicken broth, poured it into a bowl and stuck it into the microwave before scooping liberal amounts of dry dog food into Rascal's tin bowl. In went the broth and the jerk placed it ungraciously in between Rascal's front paws. "Et'up Fattog." Was all he said before he shuffled to sit on the side of his bed and turned on the tiny television set on top of his dresser. Rascal remembered how the children would sit with him on the floor in front of the television after they came home from school as he waited for his kibble to soak up the broth. His dinner seemed to have no taste to it, though it helped take his mind off of his situation, at least for a little while...

The next morning, Rascal discovered the joys of morning sickness. The nausea took him very suddenly; in fact he was halfway through his morning bowl of soft kibble and broth when he felt his stomach twist as if someone had grabbed it. Kibble fell out of his open mouth as he groaned and broth dribbled from his chin and the sides of his mouth. His paws flew to his huge abdomen and he rolled slowly onto his side. "Ooooohhhhh." He moaned, and felt his mouth flood with saliva. His head spun and he felt the surface of his stomach walls crawl around the food he'd already ingested. He clawed at the dirt with his paws and squeezed his eyes shut. His belly flew upwards as he heaved once and then twice, but nothing came up. It was about half an hour before the sickness was no longer debilitating, but by then, the jerk was coming out of the trailer, dressed in the same clothes he wore the previous day. He eyed the still full bowl of kibble and broth.

"Dm'fattog. Not et'n gin? You'dun waste m'foo' bitch." Said the jerk as he frowned down at him. Rascal had never been struck by a human before, but as he looked up at the cross man, he really did expect to be hit for not overeating. But the blow didn't actually come. The man just picked up the bowl and tossed the cold soggy food forcefully into a bin and banged it against the side several more times than really necessary. Rascal looked at him with a mild, fearful expression. He'd never known what it was like to live at the mercy of someone who was potentially unstable, but the dangerous expression the human had worn told him he would find out. A little while later, he was picked up and dumped in his bed at the bottom of the pit without another word.

Rascal realized that Rose wasn't kidding when she had said that she wasn't used to walking around much. There really wasn't anywhere to go in the bottom of the pit and his daily affairs only ever took him between the exhibit and the trailer and even then the jerk carried him there and back. Still, after moping and crying all day yesterday, Rascal was restless. He was really not used to sitting and doing nothing all day and all night. Back home, he was always in and out during the day, warding the house, watching for danger and dutifully barking at strangers. Seeing that there was, in fact, a splendid array of stuffed animals littering the bottom of the pit, Rascal thought it was an excellent time to start wearing them out. At least it would help break up the monotony that had already started to settle in.

Rascal started to get to his feet. He felt his thick nipples slid over the soft fleece of the bed as his belly flowed forward. The fat around his shoulders - a lot of which hung down to his elbows - shook profusely as he ratcheted up his upper body. He could feel the swell of his gut pressing pretty forcefully against the backs of his front paws. Once again, Rascal was quite amazed at just how obese he was. With his forepaws bent at the elbow around the curve of his protruding tummy, it felt almost hard to reach the ground with his forepaws around its girth once he had sat up. However, he was still sitting on his left thigh with his right knee pointing off to the side so his belly had more room to flow outwards. Rascal still hadn't figured out a good way to get to his feet in this body, he was used to just pushing up with his hindlegs in one smooth motion. That just wasn't possible anymore; the lion's share of his total mass lay in his hindquarters especially in the huge, distended tank of his abdomen. First, he thought, he had to get both feet on the ground.

Already, he had hesitated in his sitting position for almost a minute by the time he started going again. Rascal had already learned the hard way that he had to take his time with things with a 162 lb body. As he moved his hips back towards the front, however, he realized that this approach was going to be more difficult than he realized. Twisting his hips back around also meant moving his belly which was heavy and dragged on the floor, but more than that, there was even more pressure behind his forepaws. Rascal had to walk forward a bit with his paws, slouching forward and still his belly pressed harder.

Rascal froze. Maybe this would work, but he really didn't want to tire himself out figuring it out. The realistic duck toy that had caught his eye lay only a few feet away... Then a new idea came to him. He relaxed his belly and settled back onto his left thigh. Rascal pushed up on his forelegs and then scooted forward, also helping to pull himself forward with his forepaws. He replanted his forepaws and did it again, moving several inches with each scoot. It was slow, awkward and embarrassing to drag his hindquarters like that, but it was easier than all the work of getting to his feet and within two minutes, he had his prize and wasn't even out of breath. He made sure to grip the plushy duck in the left side of his mouth as he chomped the squeaker again and again. The excitement and the noise made his blood rush and his heart beat faster, but in a good way. Rose had said this body needed more exercise. Rascal guessed he had to make do with what he had... at least for the next year.

Rascal lashed the duck back and forth with his neck, feeling the neck fat slap against either cheek each time he did. He flung it away and it hit the far wall of the pit with a final squeak. He was panting, but panting happily. Rather than drag his fat ass after it, however, Rascal settled for picking up another toy and playing with it, finishing with throwing the small purple octopus up in the air and batting it away with his paws on the way down. Stretching up that high hurt his back initially, but felt better after a little while. Unnoticed by Rascal, people in the scant crowd stayed a little longer to watch him play and noticing the larger group that built up around the hand bars, people came and paid to see the "world's fattest dog" who might have otherwise walked on by.

That evening, Rascal found out what the "hamburger and bacon diet" was. Rascal laid on the stained rug of the trailer and watched the graying man fiddle with a large mixing bowl and a counter full of ingredients he had picked up at the store. It was hard to watch because one of those ingredients was a 5 lb package of hamburger and another was a pack of whole bacon. Rascal really wanted something other than dry food and chicken broth and while he was afraid of the possible tooth pain, having missed breakfast thanks to his morning sickness, he was really hungry. The pangs tore at his insides despite the fact that he had emptied the small tin of dry food next to his water dish within the pit; in the end, he'd resorted to dropping the dry kibbles into the water in order to soften them up for swallowing. As Rascal struggled with the pangs and the impatience it caused, he wondered if his eating habits would be forever altered by living in this constantly hungry body. He wondered if Rose was overeating with his original body and making it fat, even as the jerk conspired to add a few more pounds to his already dangerously overburdened body.

Rubbing his paws against the carpet, Rascal watched the jerk make a massive concoction. In the bowl went the hamburger, followed by four full jars of peanut butter - Rascal remembered the simple joy of licking peanut butter off the roof of his mouth - and then four small containers of cream cheese and a carton of heavy cream. The jerk added a dozen egg yolks and Rascal remembered those were high in cholesterol; though he was ignorant about precisely why cholesterol was bad or even the nutritional content of the other ingredients. To pull the whole thing together, the jerk added several cups of oatmeal from a large cylinder with a wrinkly human wearing a funny hat on its side and then dumped the contents of a large glass jar labeled "Wheat Germ" on top. He took the heavy bowl to the bed, flipped on the television and spent the better part of an hour mixing the ingredients with his bare hands. After that, the contents of the bowl had transformed into an innocuous-looking brown dough that smelled absolutely heavenly. However Rascal was also aware that the dough contained an obscene level of Calories for the express purpose of putting more pounds onto a body already disastrously wrecked by rampant obesity. From then on, Rascal's new owner could only ever be the jerk; what he was doing was not only wrong, it was cruel and robbed him of any chance he might have had to turn around his predicament.

The jerk, at least, did not expect him to eat all of that food at once. He froze half of it, put one quarter into the refrigerator and then rolled the last quarter into bite sized balls which he then placed into his large bowl. The bowl was still stacked over the rim with the fattening balls. Rascal, upset that he was being put on such a high Calorie diet for just missing one meal resisted at first, but the hunger soon won the battle of wills. He tucked in and soon discovered that fat balls had a marvelously unique flavor and texture. They were soft enough to eat almost normally with the left side of his mouth, though he could also swallow them one by one if he wanted. The peanut butter came through the strongest and soon his whole mouth was sticky with the flavor of it, though he did not stop eating to lick his palette or gums, but behind that was the savory, mouthwatering richness of hamburger. Rascal had never had raw hamburger before and had only been fed scraps from the barbecue. The un-charred virtue of the fatty meat - and it was 30% fat - came through with a solid foundation that made the food dense and filled the stomach quickly. The dairy elements made the food sweeter and not overly sticky, it went down easily and Rascal hoped there was enough fiber in there so he would not have problems the next morning. The Jerk had added a few other oils and herbs, so Rascal gave it to the man that he had probably done his research when it came to canine dietary requirements.

The huge collie slowed down as he got to the bottom of the dish despite his initial hunger. The food was dense and didn't pack down or condense inside his stomach. He belched and despite the marvelous new flavor and texture of the fat balls, nosed around the bottom of the bowl and turned his head to the side. He was satisfied, stuffed actually, Rascal had once again let his hunger get the better of him and as he glanced at his belly spreading across the floor, he knew exactly what the consequences were going to be.

However, while Rascal was done with the bowl, the jerk wasn't quite done with him. The human noticed immediately when he stopped eating despite having been staring deeply into his idiot box. Walking heavily over, he noticed the half dozen or so balls left in Rascal's dish and, grumbling, went for the bacon which had been left curiously on the counter. He cut several strips from the solid block with a large knife and came over to Rascal. With a grunt, the jerk got down on his knees. More than his presence, it was the smell of bacon that lifted Rascal's head.

Bacon and butter. Those were his two weaknesses, the two things that he could never get enough of. Rascal watched with rapt attention, nose sniffing, as the man picked up a fat ball, wrapped it in a bit of bacon and offered it to him. "Com'on fattog. Gotta getchu eatin' nah." He said, dangling the proffered treat in front of his nose. His belly grumbled its vote on the matter. Rascal remembered the taste and smell and texture of the delicious fat balls and he thought that wrapping the whole thing in bacon could only make it better, almost an orderve, but he was full! Why did he have to eat more? Rascal didn't want to be any fatter than he already was. Wasn't it bad enough that he had already eaten almost the entire bowl of the horrible stuff? Still... it was bacon.

Rascal was set on only having the one. His tongue rejoiced in the sinful pleasure and saltyness of the bacon even as his head reeled with regret. His thick wattle swung as he swallowed the ball to be forever lost in the cavernous abode of the rest of his body. The jerk wasn't done yet, though, he picked up another left over ball, wrapped it in bacon and held it out for Rascal. This time, now that he knew what it tasted like, he was able to say no. He turned his snout away and rested his head on his right paw. However, Rascal was about to learn how persistent the jerk could be. Cursing under his breath, "Fuggin fattog..." he reached down and grabbed Rascal's jaw with one hand. The human held his head straight up and the collie watched him with terrified eyes as he opened the canine's mouth by pressing his jowl against his teeth, which smarted brutally since he'd gone in on the right side. The jerk had obviously done this before, he pushed the bacon wrapped ball deep into his mouth; Rascal had learned from an earlier age never to bite a human and it was like going against instinct to try to bite the man's thumb even now; besides his own jowl was in the way. He shoved the ball past the rear curve of his tongue and held his head up so that he couldn't spit it out. The expression on the jerks face was calm, almost casual as Rascal held the fat and bacon ball on his tongue. He defiantly held out, but the jerk was patiently waiting for the telltale bulge in his neck. Rascal tried to pull away, but the jerk's grip was just as strong as his arms and he was pathetically weak, even compared to another collie. His hands might as well have been made of stone for all the movement the collie's uncoordinated jerking caused. And still he waited. Swallowing that fat ball was probably the most painful thing he'd ever done and he cried with the knowledge that he was at the mercy of a man who cared nothing for the problems his weight was causing and would almost certainly never allow him to cease gaining weight and becoming even more obese.

The jerk released his snout once he got the ball down and getting away was the first thing Rascal thought of. However, his bulk held him to the ground and made getting up slow and awkward even under the best circumstances. As he pressed up with his elbows, the jerk put a firm hand on the collie's shoulder and effortlessly prevented his efforts with the barest of pressure even as he prepared the next ball for insertion with his free hand. Rascal fought again, not wanting to open his mouth, but he went straight for the right side again and the pain was too much to keep it closed. It was at that time that Rascal knew for sure that the jerk definitely knew about his rotten teeth and instead of taking him to a vet to get them removed, instead used them as a way to get him to open his mouth. A deep and everlasting hatred of the man who cared for him was born in Rascal's breast that day. He really was the worst kind of jerk. Rascal felt sick and degraded afterwards. He was so full he couldn't take deep breaths and lay panting shallowly on the carpet as the jerk went back to his television and his bed. Rascal wished like never before that he was safe at home again.

Rascal had morning sickness the rest of that week, but it didn't really matter because on the hamburger and bacon diet, he was only fed one massive meal a day in the evening. Rascal did not make the mistake of leaving food in the bowl again. It was a Sunday night when the normal sounds of the fair closing up did not stop. Rides were folded up and disassembled, mechanical arms were taken down and stowed into large trailers that came and parked in the huge lot around midnight. Animals were herded into transports and tents were taken down and folded up. Games and prizes were packed away and the food carts were closed up tight and hooked onto the backs of trucks. The fair was getting ready to move.

Rascal watched the affair with his head sticking out of the dog door. His shoulders were far too wide to even consider fitting through. The rubber door on his head was an annoyance, but more troubling was the fact that now any thought of escape or revenge was going to be beyond hope after tonight. Rascal's home was so close, he could see the tops of the homes over the stalks of corn on the other side of the field and yet all the time he had toyed with the idea of returning home this last week, it seemed that there was no scenario that could wind up in his benefit. He could have hoped against hope that he could find Rose and somehow switch bodies back despite what she had told him, but somehow the inertia of his morbidly obese body had factored into his sense of action and the time had slipped through his paws almost without him knowing it. Rascal never thought that he would have to think about doing things. He used to be rather impulsive, hence the escape into the fair in the first place. But his huge body was so lethargic, it was hard to get moving in the first place, hard to actually consider walking the length of that corn field and making it happen. 'How did it come to this?' he wondered as he watched the first of the cars in the long caravan begin to roll down the pavement. "The world's Fattest Dog" exhibit was already packed up and ready to go, the jerk had hitched up the trailer and was in his truck, just waiting for his turn to pull out. And Rascal was too fat by far to fit out the dog door... Procrastination and idleness had made the decision to stay for him it seemed and he slumped, feeling his gut spread out to the sides against the linoleum.

As the trailer started to move, Rascal watched his neighborhood fade away into the distance out across the country highway. 'Maybe it's for the best' he sighed and thought resignedly. He doubted he had the energy to go toe to toe with his old fit self anyways. Before the roofs faded out of sight, Rascal wished that his family would get Rose neutered in the coming year. The earring in his right ear bounced and tugged at the skin as the trailer bounced away.