An amazing story done by  vulpinehero with an accompanying picture by  sugarboy. :D

Her description is better than what I can come up with off the top of my head: :3
"When Tach crash lands on an alien planet during a routine run, he finds the local biology plays hell on his metabolism. Can he fix his ship in time before he eats too much or gets eaten?"

Vulpinehero's upload can be viewed here: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/12897734/
Sugarboy's image upload is here: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/13015443/

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Since I can't upload the ENTIRE story into this space, here's a snippet from where the picture takes place. Use the navigation buttons above to view the full story.

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He stumbled across the tilted floor, nearly falling against the bulkhead, and wrenched the hatch door open a few inches. It was so bright outside that he had to snap it shut again after just a split second, the burned image on his pained retinas still playing in front of his vision. It was morning, all right.

The lynx staggered back to his living quarters and grabbed his uniform, tugging it on the dimness of the emergency lights. Strangely, his pants felt fairly snug and, even more distressing, the tunic couldn’t completely cover his belly. He grabbed his pot belly and his eyebrows rose as he noticed the difference.

Endless boredom snacking had certainly swelled his figure, but he felt positively bloated. He’d certainly never been sagging out of his shirt before. The strip of fur bulging out between his tunic and pants was tender and soft, wobbling easily as he slapped and bounced it. The rest of his belly and his swollen backside, as well was eager to escape from his shirt, with the garment constantly riding up on his torso as he moved.


This had to be an allergic reaction to eating the native fruit. Hopefully the bloating would fade soon enough. He counted his lucky stars that there wasn’t any pain or irritation that would leave him unable to get any work done. The only side effects he could see for now was a more intense sensation of jiggling when he moved and a general sluggishness, though he couldn’t definitively pin the latter on his waistline.

Tugging his shirt down again for what already felt like the twentieth time, Tach hooked on his toolbelt, letting it out another notch as he attempted to tighten it. With an arm raised to shield his eyes, the lynx threw open the door to the outside again, wincing even with the direct sunlight blocked by his forearm. He blinked several times, his pupils slimming like deflating beach balls until they were long and narrow.

Once he could see, the lynx clipped himself to his rappelling line and climbed down to the ground below, feeling his belly and love handles bounce every time his feet slapped against the side of the cargo ship. By the time he got to the earth, his belly had completely escaped his shirt, and he tugged the hem back down over his gut, flushing reflexively.