Tbh I sorta forget to update FA. I've been addicted to Twitter lately lmao

I've decided Twitter is gonna be mainly for the fat fursuit pictures and FA is all story stuff. If you wanna see pics of the suit (just uploaded a cute video ;3) I'm therounddraolf !

So, about stories. I wasn't really intending on writing more Weight Staff since it's been stressing me out everytime I tried, but I got pissed at an April Fools prank and decided to actually put in the effort to work on something that's NOT a fools prank, out of pure spite haha. Surprisingly, it was a lot of fun, and as soon as I finish up these next two stories I totally wanna continue with it!

I am a little paranoid the pacing is a little slow. I made it a bit repetitive in chapter 3 cuz I know it's been like...a year(?) since I uploaded chapter 2, and I thought people might want a refresher on plot and stuff, heh. I'll try and make the future chapters feel a bit quicker in pacing to make up for it. I promise James will put on noticeable weight by chapter 4~

Other stuff I'm working on: a feral seal becoming the size of an island, an Armello fanfic collab with a super talented artist, and maaaaaaybe a story about a fat sky pirate? Motivation and energy has been really up and down so I'm still not too comfortable taking on any commissions atm, they're still gonna be a first come first serve thing if I ever get into streaming again. So if anyone is excited to watch a blank google docs page with me, feel free to join :p

Um, irl, things are going alright I suppose. Still a man-child disappointing my parents, as usual. Hoping I get this fat fur game done by the end of the year so I can finish college and get a real job so I can not be reliant on my family as much lmao.

*gives a cookie* <3

Just overwhelmed <3

Oh btw I might be making a fat fur idle game in the next couple months lol

Should have just wrote something fat instead lmao

https://picarto.tv/Denya

Yes I'm one of those weirdos who actually does writing streams :v

Come on down to see some micros turn into lil blobs~

https://picarto.tv/Denya

I'm still working on stories! But I feel bad I haven't uploaded anything. I was wondering if it would be ok to upload a few of the stories that were featured in the fat fur writing pack I made last year-ish? Idk if anyone would feel crappy about me uploading stories for free what they had to pay to read last year, if that makes sense!

Hey yall, I figured something cool out!

So, like, normally I don't like doing commissions for people I don't know all that well because I don't have a good handle on their likes/dislikes all too well. Some people may really like a certain idea, while others would get uncomfortable or disgusted from it. Not only that, but I know many of us like our characters being depicted in certain ways; I hate it when Denya is depicted as being selfish or self-centered, for example.

The solution? I stream the story for you! :D

I wrote Borusa's commission on stream, and he joined and watched me write away for a bit. While he was there, he offered feedback right away, and we bounced ideas off each other. For example, the original idea I had for Borusa's encounter with Dark Matter was fairly different, but Borusa wasn't a fan of it so we worked on it and eventually changed it to something we both ended up enjoying much more! Like, this way I didn't have to stop writing and interrupting my flow to send a note to my client like "hey, is it ok if I add this and this?" and waiting up to 24 hours for a response back or whatever, you know? Feedback right then and there helped boost my confidence tremendously, and I'm really happy with the end result!

I'd love to do more stories like that, with the commissioner there ready to offer feedback, or even to bounce ideas off of. I know I am asking for the commissioner's time when doing this, which is why I'm making this journal to ask for feedback. I know people like waiting and being surprised by the story at the end, and that's totally fine! It's just a lil scary for me when I get super motivated to write a much longer story than the commissioner wanted, and then finding out they're not happy with the additions at all and want them removed or changed xp

I dunno, I could just...write the story they want and not worry about additions XD

As for a price guide, I think I would like to stick with a PWYW model for the time being, with the recommended payment being around 10$ per 1k words. I say that because I'm not very good at estimating how many words a story will end up. Someone might expect a 5 or 6k worded story, and I might accidentally get "inspired" and end up writing a 9k worded story instead, and I'd feel bad for charging more than the commissioner initially wanted if that makes sense xp

Anyways, let me know what you guys think! Thank you very much for reading this wall of text <3

So it's like, I don't really like complaining about mental health, but uh...yeah I think my mental health is kinda skewed lol.

I just got done taking the hardest college courses of my life. I say "done" but I have some final exams still, but I can just cram it all in the night before (like I cram cookies down my throat har har) so I'm not too concerned. I'm good at memorizing facts and tidbits and all that, it's just...applying them to things like programing and coding that I really, REALLY suck at. By god, do I suck at that!

I haven't been keeping up with writing because when I'm done with work and college stuff, I really just wanna play vidya games and turn my mind off. When I write, I like being at 100% mode so I can make the best stories I can, otherwise I'm afraid I'm gonna disappoint or get people mad. Big reason why I don't do commissions or even trades anymore unless they're for close friends. I feel like my style is too inconsistant and if I'm not at 100% it's gonna REALLY show.

BUT, courses are mostly done! Gonna see a therapist, see if I can get myself perscribed some ADHD medication (I haven't taken them since highschool, I'm hoping they'd help me focus on schoolwork and writing some) and then get right back into the swing of things.

I made a secret burner account I'm gonna upload my not-as-good stories to for a bit, get myself back to working condition. Then I'll go back to posting stories here! Weight Staff is #1 on my priority list, of course.

Thank you! <3

Heya, it's been awhile, again.

Lately I've been getting migraines that have been messing up my ability to concentrate and focus on stories as of late. I feel like they've really dragged down the quality of my work, which has been giving me a ton of anxiety as of late. Because of that, you may not see stories from me as often until I can figure out a solution to these weird, foggy-headed feelings of mine :/

I do want to keep writing when I can. When I can finally push past these headaches, I'd love to try opening a monthly raffle for a free story sometime, since I'm too nervous to do trades and commissions as of late. Fun fun stuff~

Also, I have the fat suit! I mean, obviously, since, I posted the picture of it about a week ago, but I'm still super stoked! I was wondering if I should post the fat suit pics here, or if I should move them to a different account in case people are only here for the stories, haha.

I dunno :v

I wanted to write this journal for a while now. I was gonna do it yesterday but I was afraid people would mistake it for an April Fool's post lol.

So...yeah, this writer's block is terrible. I don't really know how to put it, but like...I've been having crazy anxieties lately when it comes to writing anything furry related. I have it stuck in my brain that my value is directly tied to how much art or content I put out, and when I go through dry spells like these, I'm making people mad or disappointed in me. I feel like I have to keep writing mega-high quality stories, because for some reason people think I can write well when I feel like I can't at all. Or if I do write a story that I think is good, I'll just keep thinking "I'll literally never write a story as good as that one ever again, and people are going to be so upset with me when they realize that."

On top of that, I've had friends make fun of those silly stories where nonsense stuff happens that cause immense weight gain. You know...the stories I write?

Every day I manage a single sentence of Weight Staff. Literally a sentence a day. Any longer and I start freaking out that it's terrible and I'm disappointing and I'm ruining things. If I write silly short stories I'm afraid people are laughing behind my back because I just write stupid silly smut instead of actual stories that require effort or anything.

And I don't know what to do. I still want to write, I really like people telling me they enjoy my stories. I like knowing I can actually make a product people enjoy lol. That's why the "write for yourself, not for others" thing doesn't work with me sometimes, I guess.

Idk, I just wanted to complain a bit. I'm also fiiiiinally finishing another series of mine that I've abandoned for a year or two (guess which one I'm working on? :p) I feel better after finally putting this all out there.

<3

And I've really been enjoying it!

It's not that I don't enjoy writing still, I have Weight Staff pulled up in another tab as I write this. But it's like, lately I've been feeling...idk what the right word is. Like...writing is something I'm supposed to be good at, so when I'm not good at it, people are gonna be disappointed or upset? And it makes me just not want to write at all, but that would just make people disappointed for a different reason.

Idk, I sound whiney, and that's not the point of this journal lmao.

Yeah, I've been doing some doodling and drawing with simple pencil and paper, and it's been a ton of fun! I mean, it takes me over an hour just to sketch out something that probably isn't too good, but I still find myself fascinated that I'm able to draw these little details! Like, I drew the hands super well on one drawing (which is something all artists struggle with lol), or I drew a muzzle super well in another. And what's cool is I have these drawings on my desk with me, I can always look at them and remind myself that I made these drawings all by myself, using various references. It's like...yeah, that feels really cool! I have something I can glance at and feel accomplished right away, which is something you can't do with writing at all.

Oops, I'm complaining again lmao.

So yeah idk if they're worth, like, uploading to FA or anything because they're just pencil/pen drawings on paper. I just wanted to say that I'm no physical artist, but I feel super accomplished drawing, and I highly encourage those of you out there who don't feel their drawing skills have little value (like I did myself) to pick up a pencil and try it out sometime! <3

https://picarto.tv/Denya

Surprise :3

Hey guys~

Editing this thing has been a huuuuge time sink, haha. It's exciting we finally got to finish uploading this. Thank you  rangavar for reaching out to me for this collab. You guys should seriously check out their content, they're wicked talented at writing <3

Spoilers:

I'm really happy with how the story ended. I feel like it's a normal departure from my usual "fatties must be happy and cheerful at the end" theme, but I feel like we pulled off something really neat. Denya first started gaining weight purely by accident, then to cheer up Arro, and finally to make himself feel better about his wings. Now, he's realizing he doesn't need to hide behind his own massive body to feel confident in himself.

Arro has been struggling with self-confidence issues stemming from his own weight from the very beginning, and it seemed like it would only get worse as he grew fatter, but along the way he learned to just accept the fact that he was big. Not necessarily enjoying it, but not longer trying to hide from it. If you've noticed in the previous chapter, Arro started taking jokes about his weight much better <3

What's next?

I hope that this kinda helps make up for the lack of Weight Staff. I have a few short stories I've been writing in the meanwhile that I'll be uploading to FA over time as well. They're much shorter, don't worry haha. After that, well, I'm gonna grit my teeth and finally start working on Weight Staff. I really, really want to write it. I really want to feel confident in myself again and to know I can write something grand and impressive on my own, without relying on way more talented writers like Rangavar to carry the entire story for me. I've been dealing with a ton of imposter syndrome and weird self confidence issues, to the point where I've been too afraid to continue writing Weight Staff out of fear that it wouldn't live up to others (and my own) expectations. I'm hoping to finally break that mold soon and to give it another shot, after learning a lot from writing with Rangavar.

Thank you again everyone for reading the story and leaving behind your wonderful comments. Your support has helped me a ton throughout these troubling times, you have no idea <3

Sorry, I've been a bit under the weather lately, but I'm feeling better now~

 rangavar and I are trying to decide whether we should split up the scene into two parts like we did with the drunk bois in the previous chapter, or if we should upload the chapter into one big part.

If we uploaded the entire chapter in one part, it'd be about 16.8k words. If we split it up, it'd be about...well, two chapters that are half that long XD

Which would you guys prefer?

For lack of a better word, I've just been too scared to write it. I've been writing and rewriting the next few parts again and again, because I think they're too boring. This story is supposed to have a lot of emotional moments, and I want them to be both fluid and interesting, not something that feels rushed or taped onto. This is the most ambitious story I've ever written and I don't want yet another failure on my hands like "R.U.N" or "Hunter and Thief." I really want to write a story that just....works.

This week, if I get free time I'll push out Chapter 3, since that one is mostly done. Just need to finish up an eating scene, heh. I need to get over this fear and anxiety and just write it out.

I appreciate everyone's patience, really. Thanks again~

For  taaru

---

“BWAUWRRRRRRWARRRP!”

Whoops, that came out a little louder than he intended. Cephy could have apologized for the noisy outburst; in fact, he probably should, given the horrified faces of the other restaurant patrons. However, this shrimp pasta was simply to die for, and the panther could hardly squeeze out a quick “‘scuse me” before cramming another massive forkful into his equally massive face.

Honestly, it didn’t matter how the spotted feline ate: people were bound to gawk and stare at anyone who took up three seats!

The normally-bustling restaurant interior was mainly silent, save for the hushed whispers directed at the panther’s weight, not to mention said panther’s noisy eating habits. Most furs hardly even touched their food, too interested in watching Cephy devour his. Even the staff were paralyzed by his sheer size; a ferret waitress stared at the panther while refilling a fox’s coffee, not noticing the cup was overflowing around her fingers, forming a steamy brown puddle on the floor.

Cephy wasn’t oblivious; even while muzzle-deep in delicious pasta, he could practically feel the stares of the other furs being cast his way. Some had wide eyes, eagerly anticipating the panther to polish off yet another filling meal in minutes. Others had furrowed brows, clearly not approving such an act of public gluttony. In any case, the panther ate, pushing aside the now-empty plate to start dining on a large set of ribs instead. He wasn’t here to put up a show, or to convince anyone to change their opinions on plus-size furs; he was here to eat!

That much was very evident, given the rising number of platters on his table, requiring frequent visits from the staff to clear away lest they spill over! Entire families had been seated, given their meals, and left during the time it took the panther to finish just a portion of his feast; an impressive feat, given he was no slow eater. That wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy his food. The feline simply preferred to savor his current mouthful of food by immediately following it up with even more food. Can’t let the taste in his mouth go numb, can he?

And so, the big pather continued to binge on his incredible meal, unaware of the various stares he was being given, or at least pretending to be. What he was aware of was the tightening feeling in his stomach that only grew with every gulp. He was a glutton, not a magician; all that food had to be going somewhere. And that somewhere was letting out a few loud creaks; hopefully that was just his belt.

Alas, there was still food to be eaten. While he knew he had the option of boxing everything up for later, Cephy forced himself to continue his feast, even if he had to slow his feeding pace down to just ravenous. It wasn’t just his belt and stomach that were crying out in fear; his shirt, for example, struggled to contain so much panther. The buttons squeezed tightly into his taut stomach, with diamond-shaped gaps appearing near the lower buttons, exposing his charcoal-hued belly fluff. Cephy was considering leaning back to slide his stomach off the table, but he wasn’t sure he could do so without causing any clothing casualties, or at the very least without sending any plates toppling over!

At last, the last morsel vanished into his muzzle, and his shirt remained intact, remarkably! The panther didn’t even let out a sigh in fear of ruining that statement, and instead chose to slink back in his chair softly, his stomach still sitting on the table by a fair margin. Purring with pleasure, Cephy’s claws moved on their own to roam across his gargantuan gut, unable to even reach halfway towards the summit of mount pamf. God, his belly was sensitive, even through his skin-tight shirt, the feeling of his claws tracing along his middle was enough to give him goosebumps. This was such a small shirt; his flabby chins and cheeks practically engulfed the collar entirely, yet it was worth donning it just to feel how tight it had become. He let out another sigh through his nose, the big cat slowly closing his eyes. If only he wasn’t in public.

“Um...sir?”

Regrettably, Cephy’s personal massage was cut short when he heard the familiar exasperated voice of his waiter. Opening an eye, he looked up to see the dingo partially hidden behind the cat’s large stomach. “Yes?”

“Were the meals to your liking?”

“Meals?” Cephy raised an eyebrow. “I thought that was just the first course!”

“I…” The dingo looked genuinely uncomfortable as he tugged at his uniform’s collar. “No, sir. Those were all separate meals you ordered, 12 of them, in fact. If you-”

“I-I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” The panther sighed. Of course he knew; he was the one who read off the entire menu to this dingo! His round ears flicked as he heard a few murmurers from the other restaurant goers; no doubt, they were curious how many servings the glutton ordered.

“Oh… well then. Would you...are you interested to see our dessert menu?” The dingo bit his lip as he spoke, no doubt only asking as per his job requirements.

“Dessert...hmmmf.” Unfortunately, the feline was just too stuffed; any more and he’d have to be rolled out. Besides, the poor dingo looked ready to collapse after ferrying so much food to the greedy cat. Sadly, the panther shook his head, his cheeks wobbling about. “I’ll have to pass, unfortunately.” He sighed.

Oh, he shouldn’t have sighed.

Two loud pinging sounds, one right after another, followed by a feeling of immediate relief along his lower belly, signaled that the big cat made a big mistake! Eyes wide open, Cephy watched with horror as the dingo dropped the empty platter to nurse a bruise forming on the bridge of his snout! Even worse, at the table directly behind the dingo, he noticed one of his shirt buttons actually lodge itself into one of the astonished customer’s meal! Shoot, he knew his shirt buttons were tight, but he didn’t expect a deep breath to turn them into ballistic missiles!

The panther’s grapefruit-sized cheeks flushed slightly; as if he wasn’t already the center of attention! His stomach somehow looked even larger with two less buttons to restrain it, sticking outwards a solid 3 inches further than before. He was a biiiiiig pamf...but with less clothes clinging to his stomach, the feline noticed he wasn’t as stuffed as he previously thought. “Actually, on second thought, I’d like to see the dessert menu, if you don’t mind.”

Please let me know if I've forgotten someone, or I refunded the wrong amount.

I may still continue the monthly stories, but for no charge. Writing for money...just can't do it. I'd rather it be free, it's less stressful and more fun for me. Don't have to worry about disappointing anyone.

So, this was something that never should have been attempted.

I'll try to get a handful of stories out this next few weeks, but after that I'll be giving refunds. I'll be giving them to the paypal addresses that you paid me from. Please let me know if that is acceptable.

I'm very sorry for the inconvenience.

Trade with  cowiie I actually really hate popping, so stay tuned for the fun little twist, haha.

---

It was the greatest heist of Cereza’s life!

The red demon had seen it on the news: some crazy ferret with wild white hair had invented a device that could multiply food in seconds! Nicknamed the Cornucopia, the orange horn could duplicate any material that passes through it, including food! The news report went on to explain some sciency mumbo jumbo about taking airborn water particles and turning them into food or whatnot, but there were also major talks about what kind of impact this device could have on the world.

It could end world hunger! It could pave the way for future scientific advancements! It could feed a nation while barely costing a dime!

Or, it could satisfy one greedy demon’s late night cravings.

Cereza’s heart pounding in his scarlet, fluffy chest as he burst through his front door, slamming it shut with his pointed tail. In his shaking arms, he clutched none other than the fabled Cornucopia, wrapped up nice and tight in a black blanket. It had been a close call - that crazy scientist had nearly caught sight of him several times!

But that didn’t matter now. Cereza had escaped, and made off with an invaluable new treasure.

Grinning wide enough to show off his yellowed teeth, the demon sauntered into his kitchen, placing his newest trophy on the kitchen table. “Alrighty, let’s give this puppy a whirl.” A shame it didn’t come with an instruction manual, but the Cornucopia looked simple enough. Cereza flicked on the only visible switch, and the interior of the brown horn started to light up, the entire machine rumbling. His rabbit-like ears perking up with excitement, the thief bounded over to his fridge to rummage inside. Soon, he managed to produce his first experimental group: a leftover box of fried chicken.

They slid it in the Cornucopia, and waited with eager anticipation. The machine whirled, and to Cereza’s delight, another leg of fried chicken was produced right on the spot...followed by another, and then one more! Soon, they started overflowing the box the demon had set out, rolling forward one at a time, near identical clones to the one he set inside! It wasn’t until he finally moved the Cornucopia out of the way did it stop producing food, but by that point it had made enough to completely fill the table.

Stomach rumbling, the red demon reached forward for one of the cloned chickens, taking a quick nibble. His yellow eyes widened; it was damn good! Even considering the fried chicken wasn’t even heated up, it tasted exactly like what fried chicken should taste like, without any of the strange science-y aftertaste he had expected! Grumbling with delight, Cereza polished off the rest of the fried chicken, before grabbing for two more legs, one in each paw. Oh, he was going to get soooo fat!



The next day was the last time Cereza would ever stock up on food again, the red demon ensuring he had at least one of every kind of food he could enjoy. After that, he was set for life! If he wanted a chocolate chip cookie, he’d set a single cookie in the Cornucopia until he had a full baker’s dozen! If he wanted some brownies, a single square was enough to replicate an entire tray, and then some! If he wanted milk...well, he was out of luck there. The Cornucopia was a little messy when it came to replicating liquids, but still, infinite cookies and brownies!

It was the most fun Cereza ever had when it came to food! He loved experimenting with the strange device, learning all sorts of neat secrets and tricks. For starters, he could heat up the food before duplicating it, and the cloned food would retain its temperature. Or, he could place two different foods in it at the same time, and the result would be a fantastic combination of the two. The red demon tested a myriad of different food combinations, and discovered that waffle-donuts were by far the tastiest breakfast combo.

It was also the most fattening! The red thief wasn’t surprised to find his clothes starting to shrink against his waistline as his days of snacking and lazing went on. He could practically watch his crimson stomach growing by the day, feeling a slight bit of resistance in limbs starting to pile onto his limbs as they too grew tubbier. Cereza was astonished at how quickly he was piling on weight, having put on nearly 50 pounds in only a week, the red demon examining his puffier body in a mirror while clutching a new fold on his sides. It was something he wanted to keep track of, but otherwise, he was indifferent. Who cared if he ended up too fat and lazy to leave the house anyways? He had a machine that literally printed food, which was second only to a machine that printed money!

So, he let himself go! Cereza glutted to his heart's content day in and day out, blissfully ignoring his stomach occupying more of his lap, or his cheeks encroaching his dragon-like muzzle, or his hefty posterior taking up more of the couch. For all anyone cared, he had the body of a very successful thief!

Little did he realize that his rising laziness and carelessness would bring about his downfall!

On that fateful day, Cereza woke up to a morning like any other, greeted with the sight of his dome of a stomach rising before him. With a yawn wide enough to bunch up his three chins, the demon groggily reached up to rub his fat face, jostling his cheeks. “Mmmf. Good morning, me.” He smirked, patting the side of the jiggling tub of lard he called a belly. “Ready for breakfast?”

As he spoke, Cereza caught a strong whiff of blueberry pie, rumbling with delight. He had stuffed himself particularly full last night with the jam-filled pastry, the scent alone bringing back wonderful memories, as well as cravings. Rolling himself off the rickety bed, the demon’s sausage-like tail wagged as he looked forward to a little dessert for breakfast.

His tail wagging stopped when he saw a mound of pies leading into his bedroom door.

Cereza stood dead still for a moment, completely dumbstruck at the sight before him. He usually kept the cornucopia downstairs in the kitchen; did he decide to bring it up for the night? And since when did he make so many-

Another pie suddenly rolled into his room, and Cereza’s eyes widened with realization.

“Shit!”

As fast as his tubby legs could carry him, the fat demon rushed towards his doorway, his heart sinking like a lead weight in his chest. He’d have to wade through a knee-high marsh of smashed blueberry pie just to reach the stairs! Panting and panicking, he waddled forward, wincing as he felt the still-warm pie smoosh against his thick legs, staining them blue. What a waste of good food! It was seriously tempting to not reach down and grab a few pawfuls of mushed up pie to snack on along the way.

The closer he waddled to the stairs, the higher the sea of pies rose. First tickling the bottom of Cereza’s belly, then his rump and tail, the demon panted as he pressed on, carving a wide path through the slimy blue marsh. Somehow, the tubby thief managed to make his way to the staircase, only to groan in despair.

He couldn’t even see the stairs. Or the entirety of the ground floor, to be exact.

Taking a deep breath, Cereza leapt into the great pastry ocean, wincing as he was covered head to toe in blueberry jam and pie crust. Even without being able to see, the demon could actually feel a “current” of pie jam pushing at him that must be where the damned Cornucopia was! With a huff, Cereza pushed forward: swimming, wading, treading...and eating.

With so much food in the way, it was only natural the demon would try to eat some of it along the way, if nothing more than to help carve a path closer to the Cornucopia. Cereza kept his maw open as he dived deeper into his own house, gobbling up massive chunks of pie at a time. Gradually, the current pushing against him grew stronger, signaling that he was slowly approaching the Cornucopia. Soon, he would be able to reach the damned thing and turn it off!

However, there was one slight problem: Cereza was quickly filling up!

The blue-covered red demon was starting to feel a little green after gulping down what felt like his 15th pie in a row. His massive stomach was incredibly bloated, and with every bite he took, the further it bloated up, providing even more resistance to the fat thief’s body! To make matters worse, the current of pie was increasing as well, practically force feeding itself down Cereza’s throat! He winced as he felt himself popping a stitch in his side, realizing that he could have easily made the swim to the Cornucopia if he was still in better shape! But he kept going...slowly eating his way through the mass of food.

Until he couldn’t eat another bite!

Throwing in the tower, Cereza paused to rest his limbs, only to let out a gurgled whimper as he realized he couldn’t shut his mouth! The force of food was just too strong; the pie see was rising all around him, burying him deeper and deeper within it. The pressure was mounting, as if the red demon was sinking into an actual ocean, and while being trapped by warm pie wasn’t uncomfortable in of itself, it certainly made moving far more difficult.

The demon grunted as more and more pie shoved its way down his throat, feeling his already-massive belly bloat out further and further. It was thanks to his previous binges that his stomach stretched out enough to not burst, but even he had his limits! His middle grew rounder, inflating like a massive balloon, gradually engulfing the demon’s limbs. Bigger and wider, fuller and fuller, Cereza braced himself as the pain within him continued to mount up. His stomach creaked, groaned, grumbled, begging for the force feeding to stop, when suddenly-

KABOOOM!

Cereza let out a cry of fear. This was it! He had exploded into a million billion pieces! He whined in pain, only to slowly realized that if he had indeed exploded, he would not have a muzzle to whine with.

Opening his eyes, the demon gasped as he realized he was outside, laying atop of the mountain of pies below him! He didn’t need to put forth enough brainpower to realize that his house had popped like a balloon, unable to contain so much food! Despite the property damages being astronomical, the bloated demon let out a sigh of relief. Better the house than him!

Less than an hour later, police arrived on the scene. Cereza could hear them digging through the mountain of pies to retrieve the Cornucopia, much to his dismay. Soon after, the demon’s ears flicked as he heard the sounds of someone climbing, a German Shepherd in uniform making his way towards the demon, the canine barely visible around that massive dome of a gut.

“So,” the cop huffed, patting that drum-tight gut. “Bit off a bit more than you could chew, huh?”

Cereza rolled his yellow eyes, one of the few parts of his body he could move. He was a blimp, an absolute sphere of a demon. He had no neck, the pie-covered demon’s head almost sunken into his balloon of a body, his limbs buried beneath all that abdomen as well. The imp couldn’t move an inch even if he wanted to, weighed down by too much food and fat. Even now, his strained stomach was gurgling and churning, converting all that excess pie into even more blubber; Cereza would be lucky if he could even waddle on his own afterwards.

The german shepherd chuckled at the lack of response. “Nothing? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Cereza snorted. “Some milk would be nice.”

Hey guys. I've decided to skip Day 9 of the monthly fat stories, sorry. "Washing off a Meal" would have involved liquid inflation and soft vore anyways, not really much fat, heh.

It's been really rough for me. I've been really struggling to get through my schoolwork, and I'm barely passing some classes. I'm about to fail a huge midterm because I legit have no idea what's happening anymore (I hate online classes), my computer is having major overheating issues (I can't even run Roll20 for too long), and I'm starting to develop some really nasty back pain (but that could be because I suck at working out lmao).

It used to be fun thinking about what little stories I was gonna be writing the next day in this little series. Like, I'd write a day, read what the next one was, then go to bed planning out how I'm gonna write it in my head. Now, I'm limited on my computer time and activities because of the overheating and crazy schoolwork, that in the end I'm like "Oh yeah, I gotta write up a story. Crap, what's today's day again?" And I sorta just speed run the thing because I don't want my computer to get too hot.

I'm starting to get a little burnt out of writing these fat stories. I'm not happy at all with the quality of many of my recent stories. I feel like I can and should be doing much better, but I'm afraid I'd end up going through way too many hours editing something that was supposed to be written quickly, on top of ignoring the other issue's I've mentioned earlier. It also doesn't help my case very much that when I do think about writing, it's about a bunch of new bigger stories I want to start writing, such as the backstories to several new characters like Balasar and Alister.

I'm also scared cuz I feel like I'm writing about the same thing again and again, haha. This has been a huge wake up call that I REALLY need to work on variety x.x

I'll still continue working on commissioned days. Tomorrow, for example, I have an art trade with Cowiee. I just wanted a day to myself. At the end of the month when I get some free time, I might go back and write in the other days before releasing the full story collection.

Commission for chonky_seba on Twitter.

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“Huff...too fat to hike...I’ll show him…”

Toxic tried to ignore his burning quads as he waddled deeper into the forest, his black cheeks a slight reddish color. He was working up one hell of a sweat, given how long he had been hiking through the woods. The trail marker told him it was supposed to be a 30 minute walk, yet he was 2 hours into the trek; obviously, that meant he was working out harder than anyone else, right?

And boy, was he feeling the burn. The wolf struggled to lift his sore legs to step over a fallen log, his purple overhanging belly bumping into his knees. Sure, he was a little pudgy, a wee bit on the softside, but he could still move just fine! Occasionally, his wide hips got him wedged between two trees, but it’s not his fault the hiking trail didn’t accommodate for furs of his...stature!

“I’m still fit...not too fat...stupid Nightmare,” Toxic grumbled, thinking back to his roommate’s previous jeers. He had been called out for being fat and lazy, which was simply absurd! He made several trips to the kitchen and back just fine! But, whatever, if he needed to go on a hike to prove his own amazing fitness, then so be it!

“I can do this...I’m not too fat...I’m...I’m…”

Oh god, he was way too fat!

Toxic huffed and panted, eventually stumbled to a stop. Wheezing, the obese wolf pressed his broad back against a tree to catch his breath, wincing as the entire tree shifted due to his weight. His cheeks wobbled and bounced with his gaspy breathing, neck all but obscured beneath his muzzle and chest fat. He just simply wasn’t meant for hiking, the small wolf’s short legs were forced to swing around each other, when they weren’t bumping into his bright violet belly. That gut of his was also turning into quite the nuisance; no matter how much he sucked or squeezed it in, Toxic couldn’t even see the ground his feet walked on.

The ground…

With wide eyes, the wolf looked back the way he came, his ears folding. “Where’s the freaking path?!” Oh no, oh no no no. He was lost, alone in the woods, with no food or water! His heart hammering in his doughy chest, the wolf started marching in a random direction, desperate to find any sign of civilization to return to.

Alas, he could hardly move quicker than a lumbering waddle, his heavy feet digging deep into the soft soil. Every step he took sent him wobbling back and forth, shaking the leaves off nearby trees. At least he didn’t need to call for help; someone could hear the ground shaking and would come over to curiously investigate what an elephant was doing in an American forest. Yes, he really was that fat.

The thickets and brambles grew thicker, but Toxic continued to plow through like a spherical locomotive. Unfortunately, this train was starting to run low on steam; the wolf wasn’t sure how much longer he could push himself to keep going. His large tail drooped along his bubblebutt and dragged along the floor behind him, his puffy arms hanging limply at his sides. He was exhausted, to say the least, but he was also determined. Just a little bit further...just a little bit further...just...a little…

Toxic stopped frowning. His brain must be playing tricks on him. For a moment, it looked like he had stumbled into a clearing; a clearing with a massive encampment of small, reptilian kobolds, all sitting around various bon fires. They all looked up at him with wide, beady eyes. It had to be an illusion, right? There was just no reason for a large group of kobolds to be setting up camp way out here.

But the meats they were cooking. Urf. The wolf’s stomach grumbled loudly as he smelled the greasy, juicy pork chops and steaks being cooked up. This was one hell of an illusion!

Toxic was about to drool when he noticed one of the kobolds walk towards him, a somewhat plump fellow with a reddish, rust-like color scheme. “You Toxic?” He chirped.

“Uh…” The wolf blinked. Were they asking his name, or trying to determine if he was hostile? He was too tired to mentally debate it too much. “Yeah...I’m, uh, Toxic.”

“Toxic!”

The camp of kobolds cheered his name excitedly, the little reptiles bouncing up to rush over to him. Toxic weakly held up his paws to defend himself, but soon found the kobolds grabbing onto them, pulling him forward. Reluctantly, the fat lupine followed along, all while the taller kobold spoke. “The prophecy, it is true! Our fat god, you have arrived! Fluffy black wolf, with a large purple belly. Sit at the fire, if you will.”

This was turning into one heck of a hallucination! Toxic needed no invitation to sit his massive rump down, shaking the fire’s logs. He huffed and leaned back, glad to finally get a chance to get off his sore feet. Still panting, he looked down the kobolds beside him, bunching up his chubby cheeks. “Not a god...I just have the body of one.”

“Not yet, you don’t!” The elder kobold climbed aboard that rising middle, looking eagerly at his fat guest. “Still have far to go, before you can claim godhood! You must feast, and feast some more!”

Toxic looked around. The kobolds were looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes, holding up those cooked meats he had been salivating over just a few moments ago. On one paw, it was wrong to lie to these poor creatures who thought he was their god. But on the other, he was pretty damn hungry!

He gave a wolfish grin. “Then let’s begin!”

With another loud cheer, the feast began! To his delight, the kobolds ignored his reaching hands and decided to climb aboard his massive middle instead, opting to hand feed the gluttonous wolf directly. They held out the shanks of meat right before the canid’s fat muzzle, letting him chomp down on the greasy, salty meal, before pulling away to retrieve more food. A never-ending parade of kobolds and meat traveled up Toxic’s stomach and into his mouth, and the greedy wolf wouldn’t have had it any other way! He meant to lean back to lay on his back, but rather than feeling the grass tickle his fur, the wolf was delighted to find several large cushions behind him, enough to prop him up enough so he could keep eating. Talk about efficient kobolds! With a wide and toothy smirk, Toxic leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the kobolds feed him one at a time. He could snack for a couple minutes before making it home by nightfall, right?

Minutes soon progressed into hours, yet Toxic did not once leave his spot, nor did the flow of food ever cease. Soon, the wolf snickered as he felt something cold and wet run along his sides. Glancing down, he was curious to watch a kobold with an orange paintbrush making small and gentle strokes along his folds, drawing what resembled a chain-link design. On his other side, Toxic could feel another kobold doing something similar, painting the same orange design, slowly working to meet at his middle. It was a strange action, especially considering how much orange clashed with his purple belly, but he figured it was all part of their silly ritual. Who cares if he had to shower off some paint when he got home anyways?

And so, he let them paint all along his sides, slowly making their way around that broad belly. Then, they painted another designed a few feet higher, wrapping around him once again. And another similar design, this one around his broad, flabby chest. Afterwards, they went back down to his lower sides once more, this time painting a new design with bright red paint. And they did this again, and again, and again.

All while mercilessly, unrelentingly stuffing the fat wolf.

By the time the evening sun had vanished beneath the trees, Toxic was starting to grow worried. They had been at it for hours; stuffing him, painting him, rinse and repeat. And while he was enjoying the fresh meat and belly massages, he was starting to get really, really full!

The canine belched as two more kobolds clambered on top of his swollen middle, groaning softly before opening for more. He had always carried a bit of a gut with him, but this was something else! Every bite he crammed into that overstuffed stomach forced it to spread further out, spilling out before him like an enormous sphere of fur and fat. The kobold’s feet didn’t sink so deep into his flab anymore, thanks to how taut his balloon of a middle was becoming. There was no way he was getting back onto his feet anytime soon, not without a ton of help at least, his middle completely smothering his legs. That shelf of a gut used to be able to barely fit two kobolds on it at a time, yet now four could comfortably scramble onto it, with room for a fifth if they all squeezed together!

Another belch, another dozen sausage links. Toxic sighed, leaning over to look at the kobold elder beside him. “Hey...I don’t...I’m really stuffed...I can’t *hic* eat another bite,” he muttered, before eating another bite of mutton. The fat wolf tried reaching out to rub as much of his belly as he could reach, only to blink in shock as he noticed resistance building up around his thick arms. His stomach must be working overtime to digest all of that excess food; no wonder his cheeks were feeling flabbier!

The elder tut-tutted, poking his heavily-tattooed sides. “No! Seven days and seven nights, you must feast! If you stop now, we’ll need to start over from the beginning!”

“Oh.”

It was an underreaction, but Toxic couldn’t think of a proper response to that news. He was too full, too tired to deny them now. Besides, he was a firm believer in karma. This was what he deserved for impersonating their god.

So, he buckled down, closed his eyes, and prepared himself for a week of nonstop, eternal feeding. Thankfully, a few of the kobolds caught onto the overstuffed wolf’s plight and rushed over to start kneading and squeezing as much of the massive wall of purple belly they could reach.

This was still much better than dealing with his roommate’s complaining.

Commission for BintyBuddy on Twitter. This is the third or fourth story I've written with Dr. Brinkerhoff. I might need to turn him into an actual character sometime lmao

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Mint groaned softly as he felt himself stumble back into consciousness, wincing in pain. His head was aching terribly, particularly in a single spot right between his pointy purple ears. The binturong didn’t need to reach back to know a massive bump was forming on him. Did he fall and hit his head, or did someone throw a brick at him? Either way, it stung like hell!

The cat bear tried reaching up to rub at the swollen lump, but found himself unable to move. Groggily, he opened his eyes to look down at himself, only to gasp in shock.

He was tied to a chair.

Panic shot through Mint as the realization jolted him awake. He tried moving once again, but found himself unable to budge an inch. The purple binturong’s arms were tied firmly to the armrests, his legs to the chair’s. Out of desperation, he looked around frantically, hoping to find whoever was responsible for putting him in this predicament. Alas, he found himself alone, locked up in what appeared to be little more than a small, dark cell, the only lightsource being the moonlight streaming through a window.

“H-hello?” Mint cried out meekly, his cat-like tail curling around his legs fearfully. No response. The cat bear whimpered. “I-is anyone-”

Click!

A light suddenly flicked on, illuminating the bottom of the door across the bound-up hybrid. The doorknob turned, and suddenly Mint was blinded by the sudden light, flinching. With half-closed eyes, he slowly looked back up, his heart pounding his chest as he was face-to-face with his captor.

“Aha! Finally avake, are vee?”

Mint blinked. This was the guy who knocked him out? Standing before him was not some brutish thug or scary terrorist, but a scrawny little ferret with the most outlandish white hair the hybrid had ever seen before! The mustelid’s fur stood on end as if he had been zapped like lightning, which was a fitting descriptor, given his jittery movements! Even now, the ferret grinned maniacally wide as he rubbed his gloved paws together, not unlike a fly. “Vakey vakey, zis isn’t zee time to hibernate, Vinnie za Pooh!’

What the heck was this guy on? Mint blinked, the feline-ursine folding his ears back. “Are...are you the one who tied me up..?”

“Zat’s right!” The ferret cackled. “You sought you vas so sneaky, hm? Trespassing on my, Doktor Brinkerhoff’s, territory like zat? Trying to steal my inventions and claim them as your own, yes?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Mint cried out, huffing. It was the truth; he remembered taking the bus home for work, accidentally missing his stop, trying to figure out his way around town...and then he was here: tied up to a chair, dealing with a throbbing headache, and a deranged “scientist” who spoke in an obviously-fake German accent.

Dr. Brinkerhoff suddenly slammed his fists onto the tied up hybrid’s chair, causing him to jolt up. “Don’t lie to me! It von’t end vell for you!”

“I’m not lying!” Mint pleaded.

“On your mozer’s grave?”

“On my entire ancestry!”

Dr. Brinkerhoff blinked, before backing off from the lavender-hued bear cat, stroking his goatee. “Hmm...Perhaps I may have struck your head a little too hard back zere...No matter! I have vays of jogging your memory. Igor! Bring mir es rein!”

An enormous, hunch-backed alligator slowly squeezed his way into the room, and while the sight of an 8 foot tall beast with rows of sharp teeth was certainly unsettling to the tied up hybrid, it was nothing compared to what the beast was wheeling in. Strapped to a red wagon was a large rectangular machine...and that was all Mint could discern at a glance! Various buttons and dials were scotch-taped against the side, with an extension cord leading out of the room. It hardly looked like a single machine, more like a collection of scrap metal and electronic parts awkwardly stitched together - Mint swore he saw a blender somewhere in there.

And it was slowly being wheeled closer to him.

“W-what is that?!” The bear cat shivered, leaning as far away from the approaching machine as he could.

Dr. Brinkerhoff snickered. “Vat, you’ve forgotten it already? I vould have sought you’d remember it a bit better, considering how you were standing right next to it ven I caught you! No matter.” The ferret cackled, helping his assistant roll the machine closer. “I have vays of jogging your memory!”

Mint trembled with fear as the enormous gator, Igor, stepped behind the binturong’s chair, grabbing the captive’s head and holding it still. Whimpering, Dr. Brinkerhoff extended a part of the machine, what looked like a part of a trumpet horn, and jammed it firmly into Mint’s muzzle. The machine whirred softly, and Mint trembled as he saw the hose connected start to swell and stiffen. Let out another pained whine, Mint closed his eyes as he was forced to consume the horrible, disgusting, terrible viscous slop that was…

...soft serve vanilla ice cream.

He blinked, his green eyes wide with shock and confusion. He was expecting some foul-tasting substance to permeate into his body, but was surprised to find himself gulping down pure ice cream. Granted, he would have preferred chocolate ice cream, and to eat at his own pace, but this was still far from an unpleasant experience. It was simply mildly uncomfortable, due to the bindings and being stared at by two complete lunatics. It wasn’t like he could do anything about that, right? He just had to sit and eat; whatever made those two happy.

Mint felt a cool breeze along his lower belly as his shirt started to ride up, before grunting as his stomach made contact with his thighs. The binturong couldn’t look down due to the contraption around his muzzle, but he could clearly feel his shirt riding up, his pants growing tighter, the helm digging into his waistline. He couldn’t believe what he was experiencing; he was chugging down the ice cream at an incredible rate, sure, but surely not quick enough to cause this much of a bloated belly! Infact, it wasn’t just his belly that was swelling, his wrists and ankles growing tighter against their bindings.

He was fattening up!

“Oh ho, so you noticed!” Dr. Brinkerhoff cackled as he noticed Mint’s eyes widen. “Zat isn’t ordinary ice cream you’re suckling down, tubby! Zat is a speciality blend, engineered to fatten you up the moment it reaches your stomach! One gulp is enough to add 10 pounds to your body! It’s zee most fattening, high-calorie ice cream imaginable: Häagen-dazs!”

Mint never would have guessed he would spend the night being force fed store bought ice cream through a trumpet, but those were apparently his evening plans now. He also didn’t expect that specific brand of ice cream to have such an impact on his waistline! The buttons of his shirt dug painfully deep into his broad belly, his brown shirt spreading out further and further, until suddenly-

*ping...ping...ping…*

One by one, the buttons popped off, exposing more and more of the bear cat’s belly. That mass of purple flab spilled forward, spreading forward to cover up his thick, jiggling thighs, Simultaneously, the legs of his stretch pants starting to rip and tear at the seams, unable to contain so much leg chub. The sleeves on his shirt followed shortly, tearing away to reveal sausage-like cylinders for arms. Mint still couldn’t fully process what was happening to him, yet he slowly caught on: he was growing fatter and fatter by the second.

And he was loving it!

The cat bear had to suppress a moan of delight as he felt himself slowly rip through his clothes, his flabby body spilling free. He felt so warm and soft all over, as if someone draped a heavy blanket across his entire body. The ice cream was cold, but it was converted into warm flab so quickly that Mint barely felt it, relishing the feeling of his enormous potbelly slowly spilling towards his knees. If only the bindings digging into his wrists and ankles weren’t so-

*Riiiiiip*

Ah, there we go.

The whirring died down, and Mint was disappointed to find his steady flow of delicious ice cream trickle to a halt. The burly alligator stepped forward to untie the trumpet from his chubby, white-stained muzzle.

Mint took the opportunity to glance down at himself, trying not to smirk as he felt his cheeks bob and his chins bunch up. He must have weighed close to the 600, maybe 700 pound range, his clothes now tattered remains strewn across his lavender-hued body. His arms were thicker than his head, his legs thicker than the hunchbacked gator’s tail! And that gut, that yoga ball belly, was the softest, squishiest, cuddliest thing the bear cat had ever seen in his life.

And it was all his!

“It worked!” Dr. Brinkerhoff suddenly cried out, causing Mint to quickly glance back up, his cheeks wobbling. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your treatment, little piggy! Now you shall deal with a lifetime of too-tight doors! Have fun looking for clothes your size at the big-n-tall section that aren’t overpriced!”

Mint stared up at the scrawny mustelid. How could anyone not enjoy being their own best snuggle buddy? This guy really was a nutjob! However, he was a dangerous nutjob, and Mint knew he had to play along. He let out a fake whimper, quivering his lower lip, jiggling his second hanging chin. “A-alright, I’ll tell you what I saw! P-please, no more ice cream!”

“Aha! I knew you vere lying to me!” Dr. Brinkerhoff marched forward, gripping Mint’s broad purple belly tightly into his fingers, squishing the chub. “Tell me, fatty, what did you see!”

“I...I saw…” Mint gulped. He had to make something up, anything to get this guy off of him. “I-I saw a thing...at a place...with another thing.”

Dr. Brinkerhoff raised an eyebrow. “Vas it a red sing, or a blue sing?”

“Sing?” Mint muttered, before shaking his wobbly head. He hated this guy’s fake accent. “I-it was a red thing...I think?”

“Oh, nevermind zen. You’re free to go!”

Seriously?!? If Brinkerhoff hadn’t given him an incredible meal of ice cream, Mint would have punched him in that stupid face of his! Instead, the bear cat leaned back before rocking himself onto his feet, the chair still stuck to his fat rump.

Not even bothering to remove it, the obese binturong slowly waddled and shuffled his way out, casting one last glare at the crazed scientist as he left the facility. At last, he was finally free of the mad doctor, and could finally go home to sleep off his heavy meal. However, that in of itself was proving to be a challenge. He wasn’t used to lugging around so much extra weight, dealing with his body sloshing about with every step, or his bouncing gut protruding so far ahead of him. He might need to take a few breaks along the way. That McDonalds over there looked like a good place for his first rest.

Thankfully, he brought his own chair.

Trade with  sasuke and yes, this story is completely SFW, save for some adult language. This one of my favorites I've written so far, heh.

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Devon awoke with a snort as the subway train lurched to a stop. With a grunt, the drowsy corgsdale slowly opened their green eyes, before letting out a muffled yawn, feeling their lower muzzle sink into a collection of folds known as their chins. The non-binary hybrid hadn’t meant to fall asleep, yet they weren’t surprised they dozed off. Any seat was as cozy as a luxurious bed at their size, after all.

Licking their canid muzzle, the brown puddle of corgi-clydesdale slowly shook themself awake, jiggling from the slight movements. Their pointy ears perked up; according to the announcer, they were approaching Adalpose Dr and Rumble Road, a full 8 stops from their final destination. The hefty hybrid sighed. Public transportation was really becoming a pain, as of late.

Since they were awake, they may as well get some stretching in. As the train slowly slid to a halt, Devon raised their thick and flabby arms, the base of which were twice as wide as their pudgy face, grunting as they heard a few joints pop. Leaning back until they felt the cold subway floor press against his gut, the corgsdale placed their hoofed palms on their back and pushed in an attempt to pop their spine, bunching up the numerous rolls of chub. They had to stifle a moan as they felt those stiff joints pop; they were in public, and they didn’t need to attract any more attention than they already did.

Without looking, Devon could feel the stares of all those furs boarding the train and laying eyes on them for the first time. Even sitting as far back as possible, the corgsdale could feel the occasional bump and jostle as those wide-eyed furs tried shifting past their bulk, despite the hybrid intentionally seating as far away from the doors as possible to avoid this very issue. Of course, there was that guilty pleasure of feeling someone have to actually push into their encompassing stomach just to squeeze by...hurf.

As the train started to accelerate once more, Devon settled themself back into...themself. Their ham hock arms found their way onto their typical resting place atop those shelf-like love handles, that belly overflowing their lap. They were ready to return to their nap, their eyelids feeling heavy, as if they too were encased with layers and layers of blubber.

Unfortunately, they continued to remain conscious, on account of a finger constantly probing their middle.

Furrowing their thick brows, Devon peered over themself, expecting a curious child poking at the absurdly fat corgsdale. To their surprise, they discovered an adult fox pestering them, the vulpine looking as annoyed as the corgsdale was, oddly enough. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Devon retorted immediately, glaring at the fox beyond their own fluffy brown horizon. The hybrid wasn’t doing anything wrong; why the hell was this guy bothering him? The corgsdale tried for a second time to return to their nap, but the constant poking continued once again. They sighed. “Can I help you?”

“You’re taking up four seats, sir!” The fox spat out that last word like it was an insult.

Devon snorted. “Am I?” They weren't trying to be coy this time, the corgsdale genuinely didn’t believe they took up that much space. Slowly, they rocked himself from side to side, their titanic self sloshing audibly back and forth, like water in a bathtub, as they tried feeling the seats beneath that tremendous ass. “One, two, three...huh, what do you know? Guess I am sitting on four,” Devon shrugged. This wasn’t exactly a major surprise; their meals were getting pretty large, as of late. Well, large for them, that is.

The fox was not as amused, crossing his arms across his scrawny chest. “Those seats are reserved for the handicapped, sir. And last I checked, being fat isn’t considered a handicap!”

Ah, he was one of those people. No badge, no uniform, just a dickhead with an ego bigger than the corgsdale’s gut thinking it was his job to police others. Devon tried crossing their own arms, but ended up bunching up their watermelon-sized moobs instead. Grunting, the hefty hybrid simply rested their arms across their broad belly, idly drumming on the squishy surface. “They’re reserved for the handicapped when every other seat has been taken. As you can see,” Devon gestured with both arms, “there are still plenty of seats left.”


Even with Devon filling up a sizable portion of the subway train himself, the majority of the seats were empty. The only reason they didn’t sit in the general area was because those seats were sectioned off in groups of two, and their (apparently) four-seater ass would completely spill into the aisle and inconvenience everyone. Everybody had a place to sit. Hell, there was a wolf sitting in one of the handicapped seats on the other end of the train, and there was nothing noticeably wrong with him. Why couldn’t this douchebag yell at that guy instead?

But the fox was persistent. “Why don’t you sit in the designated seating area, then?”

“Because I can’t fit!” Devon growled back. The hybrid was aware that the other members of the train were starting to stare; well, if they weren’t staring at the two-ton corgsdale to begin with. The corgsdale didn’t care, they just wanted this idiot to get off their back. “Did you fail kindergarten? The sphere does not fit in the square hole, Einstein!”

The fox’s face looked redder than usual, and Devon hoped a fresh serving of humiliation would humble up the obnoxious vulpine. Apparently not.

“Then why don’t you stand or something, huh, lardass?! Or did you fail P.E!? See, I can make wisecracks too, lazy fat blob! Just because you’ve never seen your hooves before doesn't mean they’re not there! Are all hybrids this fat and lazy? I thought horses were supposed to be fit and trim, not a useless waste of space! Do yourself a favor and work those tree trunks you call legs!”

Devon sighed. So much for their nap. They wanted to tell the fox to piss off and ignore any further comments; it wasn’t like that scrawny whelp could budge them, anyways. He’d have better luck trying to push a car without wheels uphill.

However, they were aware of the angry stares being thrown their way, and the corgsdale didn’t want to be a problem for anyone, even if themself in particular wasn’t directly causing a disturbance.

“Fine,” they muttered back matter-of-factly, and started to push themself out of the seats. Gradually, they hauled themself upwards onto their sturdy hooves, grunting softly as they felt their middle rub against the floor once again. With a slight blush, they realized their rump was still rubbing against the seats despite almost standing at full-

The train lurched as it started to slow down, and Devon stumbled forward. The fox had time to let out an “oh, fuck-” before getting swept away in the advancing wall of cinnamon-colored flab. Unfortunately for him, Devon didn’t stop waddling forward until they slammed into the opposite wall, rattling nearly the entire train. A few gasped at the sound of the heavy impact, but Devon just smiled. They knew the fox was uninjured; save for his pride, perhaps.

The hybrid's grin widened when they felt the angry vulpine thrash about, wobbling and jiggling the thick brown blubber. Devon’s belly resembled a pancake as it spread out around the scrawny jerk, lifting the fox off the ground, yet not even the tips of his pointy ears were visible beneath that incredible disk of fat. Anyone who wasn’t looking before would have thought Devon had actually eaten the poor guy! Inside or outside, the fox had no escape from his fluffy, flabby prison. Especially considering that Devon couldn’t even reach the wall with their arms, with all that belly in the way.

But that didn’t stop the fox from trying, who wiggled, wobbled, and screamed. “Let me out, fatass! This is my stop!”

“What was that? I can’t hear you past all this laziness” Devon responded, wagging their fluffy mop of a tail.

“I said let me out! I’m supposed to get off here, you fucking fat fuck!”

“I’m trying, but I’m just sooooo fat and lazy! I might not get you out in time!” Devon laughed, shaking their wobbling gut for emphasis. This guy got on the subway for a single stop, and had the gall to call them lazy? Pot, meet kettle.

The subway slowed to a halt, and the doors opened. The fox yelled and screamed more insults and swears, most of which were thankfully muffled by the corgsdale’s middle. As furs made their way on and off, the hybrid felt a few pats on their broad shoulders, some thanking him for teaching that noisy jerk a lesson. Devon was happy to be of service.

It wasn’t until the subway continued on did the hybrid “worked up the strength” to back off, chuckling humorously as they noticed the fox was actually plastered atop the slope of their gut. That fox did not find the situation quite as humorous as he pried himself off his squishy prison, his limbs still sinking in deep into all that pudge, before finally freeing himself. The vulpine didn’t bother trying to compose himself, his entire body beet red with indignation, or from the heat of being pressed against a flabby corgsdale for several moments. “Thanks a lot, fatty! Your belly fucked up my schedule! Now I’m gonna be late for work!”

“Why are you upset? They’ll forgive you because you’re not fat or lazy, right?” Devon stuck their tongue out. Seeing the fuming fox stimp away, the corgsdale sighed in relief as they lowered themself back into the seats, feeling their rump spread out across every single one of them. Yup, they definitely did fill four seats now.

Gift for  psychicimmortality who is definitely one of the nicest friends I have. They put up with so much of my whining and complaining, and deserve much more than a little story like this. I need to write something proper for him sometime, but until then, I hope you guys enjoy the story~

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Day 5 - Finally Immobile - Aaron

“I’m...I’m not sure I can keep doing this, Aaron.”

Denya frowned, lowering his gaze and his brush. He felt awful, bringing up his concerns to his friend after agreeing to come over to help groom the snake-wolf hybrid, but at the same time he didn’t know anyone else he could turn to for help.

The draolf felt his friend wobble as Aaron tried turning his head to look back at him, the canine’s neck folds bunching up. “That’s alright. You can take a break if your arm is getting sore.”

The hybrid couldn’t help but chuckle, looking at the brush in his paw, covered in clumps of snowy-white and moss-green fur. “That wasn’t what I was talking about, but I might need to stop if I run out of brushes.” Casually, Denya tossed the brush over his shoulder, landing in a massive pile of similarly-used and clogged-up brushes. He reached down for yet another special comb, continuing to groom the massive feral’s sides.

He sighed. “I mean, you know how I’ve been trying to stuff myself like crazy, right? Like, I swear I’ve completely messed up my sleep schedule from all the food comas, but I don’t really think I’m getting any bigger. The scale is going up, sure, but at this rate…” Denya stopped again. He glanced down at himself, rubbing a paw across his round middle. He was gaining weight for sure, his stomach now hung over the hem of his pants, poking out from his XL shirt fairly easily. His hips and rear were also starting to test the limits of his elastic basketball shorts; he was certainly noticeably pudgier than before.

But he wasn’t nearly fat enough. No, not even close.

The fluffy mound of fur and blubber before him wobbled again, and the draolf looked up to see Aaron smiling back at him, those flabby cheeks bunching up against his side. “You’re worrying too much, Denya. Gaining is a slow and steady process. After all,” he chuckled. “It took me more than just a month to end up finally immobile.”

“That’s true,” Denya nodded, stepping back to take in the sight of his friend. Despite being a feral lupine, Aaron was taller than most horses, which impressed Denya all the more when he saw that humongous belly not only touch the floor, but press heavily against it, forcing Aaron to lay on top of it like a fluffy white bean bag. The lupine wasn't simplyimmobile because of his mass; he couldn’t reach the floor! Those plump, wobbly thighs were tucked into his side, resting cozily on that king-sized mattress of a gut, his limbs looking hilariously tiny compared to his enormous torso.

His tail, however, was a different story. The green and white wolf was actually a snolf, possessing a tail thrice as long as his already-lengthy body. And just like his body, that tail was plump and stuffed full of chub, something someone could easily mistake as a morbidly obese snake on its own! Currently, the draolf was using the squishy tail as a step ladder to help brush and groom along the snake-wolf hybrid’s broad back, leaning into the fluffy wall of chub to reach the highest parts.

As Denya scritched and scratched, the snolf let out a happy trill, wiggling the tiny tuft of fluff at the very tip of his tail. “How big are you trying to get anyways?”

“Very big,” the draolf muttered.

“As big as me?”

“Bigger.”

“Oooh,” Aaron smirked, thick dimples forming in his grapefruit-sized cheeks. “What’s the occasion? Did you decide you want to be dragon sized instead of wolf sized?”

‘Well, it was supposed to be a surprise, but it doesn’t really matter if I can’t get big enough,” Denya frowned, leaning his head against the snolf’s side. He set the brush down on the massive feral’s back, taking a moment to and squeeze at Aaron’s bulky sides. He was mildly envious of his friend’s sheer size at the moment, but he had to admit that the feral was incredibly soft and squishy, the perfect stress toy. With his fur nice and groomed, the snolf could have also doubled as a bed, even for the overweight draolf.

“Have you tried weight training?”

The draolf furrowed his brows, looking towards the snolf’s fat head. “Wouldn’t that be counterproductive?”

“I don’t think so,” the feral smiled. “Weight training primes your body for storing mass; you just have to make sure you're doing it just enough to trigger that priming, any more and you'll gain muscle instead of fat. You could try that, right?”

“I guess,” the draolf shrugged. “I was by the track the other day, actually, but it was busy. I saw this chubby dragon and fat bull running on it.” Denya sighed. He had seen so many fatties up and around lately.

Shaking his head, the draolf stepped back off of Aaron’s tail. “Sorry, I got distracted. I think it’s about time to roll you on your back, now. Are you ready?”

“Mhm.” The snolf tucked his fatty legs into his barrel body.

Carefully, Denya placed his palms on the side of his enormous friend and pushed, his paws engulfed in thick blubber past their wrists. Despite possessing inherent strength thanks to his draconic heritage, the hybrid struggled to do more than budge the multi-ton snolf, slowly swaying the sloshing log of fat back and forth. Further and further, Aaron was rocked, the massive hybrid giggling as he felt his enormous body shift about. While it was fun to shove so much snolf back and forth, the draolf was still somewhat anxious. One wrong push and he could accidentally trap himself beneath all that flab!

Fortunately, he was able to fully shove Aaron onto his back with one final push. With a loud thump, the feral was stuck looking up at the ceiling, his massive middle rising before him like a hill. Huffing and puffing, Denya leaned into the rising wall of tum, smiling as he sunk into the soft and squishy stomach. “How...how’s that?”

“Perfectly done,” Aaron affirmed, wiggling his prehensile tail as he took a moment to admire his own rising gut. “But I think it’s time for a break. You’ve been grooming me for over an hour, now.”

“I’m going as fast as I can. Not my fault there’s a ton of snek to groom!” Denya chuckled. The canine perked up when he saw Aaron pat his belly invitingly, the draolf slowly climbing onto the squishy mountain of chub. Letting out a soft sigh, the hybrid laid on his stomach spread-eagle, feeling himself slowly sink deeper and deeper into the memory foam mattress that was Aaron’s belly.

Looking down, he could see the snolf looking up at him happily, those yellow eyes lit up in both affection and approval. “You’re sinking in much deeper than before! I can tell you’ve gotten a lot fatter!”

Denya chuckled. “I could say the same for you, snek.” He teased, patting at the squishy mound of chub before him. “I’m surprised Zaxie would let you get so big. I thought he preferred chubby guys, not immobile blobs.”

“He does, but I get immobility privileges every other weekend,” Aaron stuck his forked tongue out teasingly. The feral continued to gently tap at his own swollen tum, unable to do much else in his position. “Are you gonna be alright, Denya?”

“Yeah...I’ll be fine,” the draolf nodded, kneading at the fluffy belly like dough. “Sorry for complaining earlier. I’ve been feeling really anxious about...this,” he leaned back, patting his chubby belly.

Aaron chuckled, wobbling his massive middle. “You have nothing to apologize for, lil bro. But, if you’re still nervous, you’re welcome to take home some of my homemade gainer shake. That oughta help you out a bit!”

Denya’s ears perked up. “You make homemade gainer shakes? Do they work?”

The snolf gave his companion an amused smile. “You look me in the eyes and tell me they don’t work.”

“Fair enough!” Denya laughed, giving the big wobbly bed-snek as big of a hug as he can mustur. “Thank you, Aaron, for everything. You’re a really good friend.”

“Anytime, lil bro,” the serpent smiled up, wiggling his tail happily. “And thank you for coming over to clean my pelt! My fur feels so much smoother now.”

“Of course.” The draolf smirked, slowly crawling closer to Aaron’s head, jostling the snolf’s entire body. Once close enough, the hybrid’s grin turned sinister as he reached out to grab at those two pudgy cheeks, kneading and squeezing the chubby orbs. “Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy, huh?!”

“D-Denya, noooo!’ Aaron laughed, flailing his stubby limbs helplessly. Soon, the serpent couldn’t help but to shake his wobbling right thigh, jostling his entire mountainous gut as Denya found that sweet spot. “F-fine. I’m the good boy.”

“Yes you are!” Denya smirked, still cupping the snolf’s cheeks in his paws. “Yes you are.”

Commission for  simon-moo featuring  mazaku

I came up with the idea like 10 minutes before I started writing it, haha. I needed another runner and threw Maz's character in because I know he's one of those nerds who enjoys running. Can you believe that?

---

“It feels good to get back on the field again, doesn’t it, Simon?”

“Yeah.” The bull agreed, smiling at the sight before him. It had been over half a year since he and his running partner could do their weekly aerobic exercises, not surprising given it was a half year of quarantine, politics, and other horrible events. Fortunately, the gym-side field remained perfectly preserved, with nary a fur in sight. They had the entire outdoors just to themselves!

With a grin, Simon playfully nudged the murky green dragon beside him with an elbow. “Think you can still keep up with me, Maz? Wouldn’t want you to lag too far behind, what with all that quarantine weight you’ve put on.” The bull cheekily reached out, poking the dragon’s slightly-exposed belly.

Maz grunted in response, pitifully pulling his tank top down in an attempt to hide the squishy scales. “Hey, it’s only a little weight! You try living with a fatass brother who lazes around all day eating.”

Simon snorted. “I thought you had better self control than that.”

“Self cont- excuse me?!” Maz halted in his tracks, staring at the caramel-colored cow in disbelief. “Have you looked in a mirror lately, tubby?”

“Yeah, why?” The bull responded matter of factly, turning to face the astonished dragon.

“Dude, you’re huge! You can’t call me fat if you’re not gonna acknowledge the three hundred pounds you put on!”

The bull blinked, tilting his head enough to make his blond hair flop over. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude.”

“Your XL tanktop can’t even cover your belly!”

“Oh.”

Suddenly, Simon let out a snort, followed by a raccaus laugh, slapping the comparatively-skinny dragon hard on the back. Maz was right, the bull was big. Several months of staying inside, sitting on the couch, and stuffing his face with Ubereats had done wonders for his weight. What was once a potbelly was now an incredible gut that hovered just above his knees, his previously-mentioned tank top tucked into his perky moobs due to the sheer size of that tum. Similarly, the bull’s beefy thighs stretched out his sweats to the limit, thick tears forming along the seems to expose more brown pudge. His once-toned rear was now home to a pair of bouncing bubbly butterballs, engulfing most of his tiny tail. In short, this bull had enough beef on him to feed an entire neighborhood!

He obviously wasn’t afraid to flaunt his girth as well, the hefty heifer playfully bouncing his hip against the slimmer dragon. “I’m just messing with ya, Maz! Yeah, I got a little wide, but that’s not something some jogging can’t fix, right?”

The dragon grunted again, struggling to remain on his feet near the overly-affectionate bull. “W-well...I mean, it might take awhile for you to lose all...that. Did you do any physical activity these past few months?”

“Sure! I got out of bed sometimes!” Simon smiled. He had no idea what Maz was talking about. Wasn’t the point of quarantine to stay home and do as little as possible? The bull did just that; only moving to pick up his delivered food from the doorstep. Admittedly, he was a little out of shape - he was starting to pant before even making it to the field. But he was still the same powerful bull, right? That bull never left, he’s just hidden beneath a few hundred pounds of flab.

Still confident, Simon couldn’t help but jeer at the smaller dragon as they walked onto the track, taking their respective positions. “You ready to lose to a fatass like me, Maz? You’re gonna be eating dust like I eat donuts!”

Maz sneered right back at his heavy friend, noting how the bull’s hips were wider than the lane he was in. “You’re on, tubby. Just don’t get distracted and run off if you hear the ice cream truck.”

Simon snorted in response before crouching low, or at least as low as he could before his fat belly dug into his thighs. In sync, the two out-of-shape runners tapped their tails on the ground thrice, then twice, then once.

And then they were off.

Simon immediately took the lead, his longer legs giving him an advantage. The obese bull felt great! He figured Maz didn’t expect the pudgy bovine to still be in excellent shape! He pumped his thick arms back and forth, his heavy feet kicking up plenty of dust. A wide grin spread across his stubby muzzle. He was still an amazing runner! He could easily win this race backwards. He could...he...he…

Oh god, this was excruciating!

Simon’s lead lasted all of five seconds before the bull felt himself petering out, gasping and wheezing for breath. What was a strong dash soon turned into a slow and lumbering waddle, his hooves dragging along the ground. What the hell happened? One second he was doing great, the next his lungs felt ready to explode, the hefty bovine forced to take big greedy gulps of air just to stay conscious!

On his left, Simon felt Maz pass him by, the chubby dragon snickering. “I’d tell you to eat my dust, but I think you’ve done enough eating!”

“Shut it, pipsqueak!” Simon barked back, too tired to even think of a proper insult. So much for showing up the dragon. Gulping down the buildup of saliva in his throat, the bulky bull leaned forward and continued his jog, albeit at a much more leisurely pace.

Thump thump thump. His knees dug into the underside of his wobbling belly as he moved, making it difficult for the fat bovine to get a single breath in. His tank-top dug deep into his wobbly moobs, sticking to his sweaty chest. He felt a similar dilemma occur with his sweatpants, the fabric ripping and tearing ever so slightly whenever Simon tried stretching his legs.

Wheezing for air, the bull desperately scrambled to recall his knowledge of jogging from months ago. Take deep breaths in a pattern, always pump your arms, keep your head up and your shoulders square. Yeah, he can still do this! He’s a little slower and heavier, but he could still jog just fine! Sure, it was annoying feeling his moobs flop about, or his cheeks wobble with every heavy step. Heck, the bull had to wipe his messy bangs out of his eyes every other step, feeling the sweat build up on his forehead. But at least he was making progress, right?

Simon looked around, before letting out a groan. He wasn’t even halfway done!

“In and out. In and out.” Simon mentally told himself to keep his breathing steady, yet all that accomplished was making the bull crave In-N-Out. He winced when he noticed his pits feeling sweaty, rubbing against his arms and sides while he jogged. His sweatpants were now appropriately named, the bull groaning at the feeling of his sweaty thighs rubbing against each other. It was October, yet the obese heifer was practically burning up!

Simon’s ears flickered as he heard a pair of jogging footsteps beside him, followed by a familiar sneering voice. “If I tied a Twinkie to a string and waved it in front of your face, would it help you move faster?”

The bull groaned, too busy gasping for air to even bother trying to speak. Maz had completely lapped him! The dragon hardly looked more than a bit winded, even temporarily jogging backwards just to watch the butterball bull bounce and jiggle before continuing his jog. Simon’s cheeks grew even hotter, not out of shame, but out of the realization that chasing after food probably would make him go faster!

His eyes started to sting, sweat from his messy hair dripping across his entire face. Simon was on life support, his breathing now hagged and raspy, his jog now a half-hearted shuffle. Sweat poured off his body, leaving behind a trail as he stammered and staggered along. Every muscle in his body ached, not just his legs. His heart pounded furiously, his lungs dry and scratchy.

He was done.

Not even bothering to check where he was, the bull decided enough was enough. He barely had the stamina to waddle towards the grassy field before collapsing onto his back, staring up at the early-morning sky. Even looking straight up, the bovine could see his bulbous belly in his peripheral vision, rising and falling rapidly with his shallow breathing, the brown fur completely drenched in sweat.

He didn’t even hear Maz come over, the fat bull deafened by his own heavy breathing and pounding heart. Soon, his vision focused, and he could see the smaller dragon looking over him, concerned on his chubby face. “You alright, big guy? I heard you falling all the way on the other side!”

“Yeah...I’m fine,” Simon huffed. The cool grass felt incredible on his overheated back. He didn’t want to move from his spot.

The dragon’s snout wrinkled. “Phew. You smell like moldy hamburgers, dude!”

“You’re such a good friend, Maz.” Simon rolled his eyes. He knew he was sweaty and smelly, his clothes were practically caked onto his greasy body. Even raising and lowering his eyebrows felt sticky and gross. It was gonna take more than a single shower to clean himself off.

With a smirk, Maz lowered himself onto his rump, carefully patting the bull’s big belly. “You did pretty good, all things considering.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m serious! I don’t think I could have done a single lap with all that extra flab, and you did a lap and a half!”

Simon looked up at his draconic friend, and saw that he was completely serious. The bull smiled, feeling his spirits lift. “I...didn’t think I finished a single lap.”

Maz chuckled. “Sorry for showing you up like that. I couldn’t just let you smack talk like that and get away with it.”

“It’s fine.” Simon huffed, propping himself up slightly, bunching his thick chins up. “You can make up for it by letting me sit on you.”

“Shower first, then I’ll consider it.” Maz smirked, playfully shoving that jiggling gut. “I told you, I have a fatass brother who lazes around all day. I’m used to it by this point.”

“Pip squeak.”

“Fat ass.” Maz chuckled. “You know, I could make it up to you another way. I hear Krispy Kreme is doing a “buy a dozen, get a dozen free’ deal.”

Simon perked up. “Now you’re speaking my language!”

Sandra lowered her bowl of ramen from her maw, smiling as she let out a soft sigh. That sigh quickly turned into a sudden belch, the sergal gasping and raising a paw to her wedge-shaped muzzle. Her snowy cheeks flushed a shade of pink as she anxiously glanced around, but soon found herself giggling as she noticed the happy grins being given her way. The sergal shouldn’t have been surprised; with how much food she had crammed down just now, it wasn’t a shock that some gas ended up trapped in her gut as well!

Sandra was a neat eater, albeit a gluttonous one, and her table reflected that. Or rather, tables. Two of them were pushed together, all of which were covered in empty bowls, plates, and platters. This scene installed a sense of deja vu in the restaurant workers, who recalled a blond draolf earlier trying to consume a similar feast before passing out in a food coma. The sergal, however, had no trouble polishing off the immense meal on her own.

One look at her body explained why.

“Thanks again for the great grub!” Sandra cheered as she carefully scooted back, sliding her immense stomach off the table while her chairs skid back. With a slight huff, the massive sergal rocked herself onto her feet, her body sloshing back and forth.

The sergal walked into the ramen store a pear, and was about to waddle out a pumpkin. Sandra’s belly drooped heavily once it fell off the table, bouncing heavily against her well-padded thighs. Even with so much food crammed inside, the Vilousian hardly looked bloated; her unique metabolism converting every speck of excess food into pure lard on the spot. As such, Sandra’s middle bounced and wobbled, an apron of pure white chub thick enough to swallow up someone’s arm up to their elbows.

Her rear certainly took in a fair portion of those extra calories as well, the rounded rump jutting out nearly a foot and a half, forcing the sergal’s tail to ride along the upper ridge. Her dark blue back was as broad as a barn, filled with various hanging rolls that converged into a several-inch deep valley along her spine. The dark red markings on her back all seemed to dance and bounce about as she herself wobbled and jiggled, swaying back and forth with all that extra heft.

Obviously, the obscenely obese sergal’s waddle did not go unnotice, and not just for it’s Earth-shaking qualities. One of the waiters, a smaller male fox, quickly approached her side. “D-do you need any assistance, ma’am?”

Sandra giggled softly, her soft cheeks bouncing at the idea of a scrawny thing like the fox being able to handle a tenth of her weight. “Oh, no thank you, dear. I’ll be quite alright.”

But the fox persisted, trailing close beside the massive sergal, even if it meant almost getting hip checked by those incredible hips. “A-are you sure, ma’am? You’re looking...a little…”

The poor thing was blushing! Sandra had to stop herself from laughing at the cute fox, too embarrassed to point out her size. “I’m just fine, hun. It takes more than a couple hundred pounds to stop me from-”

THUMP

To stop her from what? Obviously, it was more than enough to stop her from going outside!

Sandra’s face went beat red as she realized she was wedged in the front door, her upper half stuck firmly in the door frame. Alas, her incredible metabolism was both a blessing and a curse. What was once a simply narrow corridor was now a constricting passage, one that completely barred her exit!

From behind her, he heard the fox give a started yelp. “T-that’s what I was afraid of, ma’am.”

Despite the embarrassing situation, Sanda chuckled softly. “Fair enough. I’m sorry for not listening to you sooner!” Oh well. She got herself into this situation, she can get herself out! Bracing her feet against the carpeted floor, the Vilousian grunted and pushed herself forward, sliding inch by inch further into the doorway. She winced as she felt her plump, sensitive breasts squishing tightly into the tight frame, slowly popping through to the other end one after another.

Her ears folded as she felt a gentle touch on her exposed back.”Ma’am, I don’t think-”

“I’m fine, hun!” Sandra muttered back, slightly exasperated. She knew she ate a lot, but she shouldn’t have this much trouble squeezing through a single doorway! Just working her arms through to the otherside was proving to be a hassle, the limbs pressing tightly into her own doughy sides before finally wiggling through. Fat was malleable and easy to knead; the problem was she just had too damn much of it!

With both arms on the other end, Sandra braced her paws against the sides of the wall and puuuuuuuushed, gritting her sharp teeth as inch upon inch of her flabby form filled outwards. The further she went, the slower her progress became as the doorway constrictor around her lower, wider section. The pain of the door pinching her was growing intense, but Sandra was nothing if not determined. One push...two pushes...three-

Plop!

Sandra gasped as she suddenly fell forward, bracing herself to hit the pavement outside. Fortunately, she only managed to stutter forward a few inches, her wipe hips crashing into the doorway, stopping her fall. The sergal thanked the stars she didn’t end up falling onto her pudgy pointed face...only to realize she may not be so lucky after all.

In her position, leaning as far forward as she was, she could barely touch the ground.

And she was still wedged in the door!

The sergal’s plump cheeks resembled cherry tomatoes as the weight of her situation fell onto her. The doorway was squeezed perfectly in between her hour-glass body, pressing tightly against her waist. From outside, her upper half hung forward, the sergal resembling a blue-and-white muffin top from that end. On the other side, her plump rear was in full display to everyone inside the restaurant, the poor Vilousian bashfully trying to cover as much of her beach-ball booty of hers as she can with her tail. In her awkward, bent-over position, she could hardly find purchase of the ground with her feet, which made it incredibly difficult to either push herself forward or pull herself back.

She was trapped.

Sandra’s ears folded as she noticed several furs outside stopping to gawk at her. Her weight had never been an issue with her before, the squishy sergal having no issues testing the limits of her unusual body. She was prideful in being able to maneuver her gigantic self around with ease, and while she was used to her size being a bit of an inconvenience at times, she still felt ashamed of forcing herself into such an awkward predicament. Hopefully no one wanted to leave the restaurant right about now. The Vilousian sighed.

She felt another gentle pat on her broad side. “Would you like some assistance, ma’am?” The fox asked in a smaller voice.

The sergal smiled softly, even if the fox couldn’t see her. She felt relieved, knowing he was still willing to help her, after he had shrugged off his help several times. “Yes, please. If you wouldn’t mind, that is.”

“Oh, not at all!” The fox chirped loudly from inside; Sandra could feel the cool air generated by the fox’s wagging tail against her own. “Wait right here! I’ll go grab some butter, and some staff!”

True to his word, the tiny vulpine returned with plenty of both. Sandra shivered slightly as the cool greasy paste was rubbed into her flabby sides by several pairs of paws, coating her fur in the slick gel. Once she was nice and slippery, the pushing continued, the sergal grunting as several furs far stronger than the skinny fox pushed and shoved at her bulbous behind. Bit by bit, she squished and squeezed forward, until suddenly-

PLOP!

She was free!

Sandra stumbled forward, huffing slightly. Her sides ached where the door had been pinching her earlier, but otherwise, she felt great! She turned around, expecting the restaurant staff to be angry with her for clogging up their entrance, but to her relief, they were all cheering and applauding with delight. They were just happy to be able to help their best patron out of a sticky situation! Overcome with delight; the obese sergal gave everyone a big, flabby hug, accidentally coating the others in butter as well.

From that experience, Sandra learned two very important lessons: don’t be afraid to accept help from others, and to always take the back entrance!