Art by Yours Truly
Story by  mickeybamboo

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One Little Party Guest Tried Mouthing Off To Heaven…

“And then, Ah say, and then Ah said to her, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and then Ah gave her a melon and told her to tease him a little.” The tall rooster laughed as he continued telling the story to Sulley, who was trying to get away from the blustering avian.

“And she BELIEVED IT! My god, the little hen was as dense as a rock, but had a heart of gold, bless her soul. But as Ah was saying, as Ah was saying, Mr. Bear, you’ve got to get up preeet-ty early to pull one over on old Fog… Wait… Where’d y’all go Mr. Bear?” Leghorn looked back and forth. During his long diatribe on his “multiple” achievements, the feathered fowl seemed to have lost sight of the large monster.

“Hey, you there? Huh, now don’t that just beat all…” Thunder cracked, and lightning illuminated the dark hallway the rooster was currently standing in. Three doors stood before him in the darkness, and the toon knew the big blue “bear” was behind one of them. Scratching his beak in deep concentration, he heard murmuring behind one of the doors.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, boy. Did I tell ya about the time this little chicken hawk…” Opening the door, Foghorn covered his eyes as a bright light flashed in front of his face and he was pulled inside.

“What, Ah say, what is going -- gahhh!” Before the boisterous rooster knew what was happening, he found himself being forced into a stark white, tightly pressed, well-tailored suit that emphasized his figure!

“Mr. Leghorn, your audience is waiting!” A voice from the unknown person answered as he was led behind a curtain.

“Audience? What in tarnation?” The rooster tried to stop himself, but he was suddenly dragged into what seemed to be the upper level of a mall. The bright lights continued to blind the large avian, but he could hear the crowd chanting “FOGHORN, FOGHORN!”

“Why sir, they’re here to hear you speak! Your voice is….growing a movement!” The rooster found himself on an escalator, heading down slowly to where he could see a stage set up with a podium.

“Sir, I’d suggest waving,” the person behind the rooster whispered. Foghorn’s eyes, still fuzzy from the bright lights, seemed to glaze over a bit. “Huh, oh…umm.” He haphazardly began to wave to his guests, his confidence growing as he heard the crowd cheer his name.

Soon enough, the large rooster was dragged onto the large stage, the lighting just so that while he could see the bodies of the crowd, their faces were all distorted. Blinking back tears as he tried to see who he was talking to, the voice from behind him whispered again.

“Go ahead, tell them what you think. The more you talk, the more you’ll…gain in the numbers.” Foghorn gave a slight nod as he coughed, clearing his throat.

“Umm, hallo? Umm, heh, well, Ah just flew in from the farm and boy, Ah say boy, are my arms tired?” As crowd laughed hysterically, the rooster perked up. His chest broadened as he realized these were his kind of people! They knew what he wanted. He could feel a swelling of pride from within. He could say anything to them! He didn’t even hear the slight ripping in his pants, or the straining of his buttons.

“Heh, now you people, Ah say, you people get what’s funny. Usually Ah have to remind people, telling them that’s a joke, son, but you people know what Ah’m talking about!” There was a combination of laughter and applause as he felt more confidence rush into him. He felt the longer he talked, the bigger he was going to be in their minds. The buttons on his suit seemed to be losing the war as a few started to pop off, others straining to keep holding onto his growing “popularity”.

“But what about those, Ah say, what about those foxes! Ah’ve seen more foxes around recently and Ah say we have to put our out feet down and tell them no! No more foxes in our henhouses!” The crowd went wild. Picking up his more ample, rounder belly with confidence, the rooster let it drop and accidentally let loose a massive belch. His features felt thicker, rounder, but he was on a roll. His pants split further as his legs seemed to thicken with power.

“Ah say, Ah said, Ah say this; we need to build a FENCE around our coops to keep ‘em safe, and if Ah had my way, all the foxes would be on the other side of the fence, not that Ah have anything against foxes, mind y’all. Ah met a nice boy, Ah say, Ah met a nice young fox with good manners once, but still! We need to be vigilant!” The crowd erupted into frenzied applause, screams for “Foghorn,” everything the boastful rooster wanted.

The thick rooster’s arms were now at his much more bountiful hips as he cast quite the figure standing next to the podium. His belly drooped to his knees, and his chicken breasts were more ample, straining what was left of the straining coat. He honestly looked less like chicken and more like pork in that ruined suit. Still, he was proud of himself, and the more he spoke, the bigger and better he felt.

“I think that was quite enough. Good job, Mr. Leghorn.” Just then, the rooster heard a click and looked down. A trap door had opened up underneath him.

“Is that what Ah think it is?” He turned to see a grin and a nod as he hung in the air for a moment, suspended over the trap door.

“Oh… Ah think Ah’ve been snookered, then.” And with that, the laws of gravity were remembered and he dropped into the open hole.

At the bottom of the long passage, Foghorn gripped his spinning head.

“Ugh, now that was, Ah say, that was quite the twist.” Looking down at his much more ample form, the large rooster gripped the easily available flab. His whole body seemed to have swollen. Even his chicken legs had a nice thick padding of fat that surprised even the large avian. As he dropped his massive gut, that was all his suit could take, his body exploding out of scraps of fabric that finally lost the will to go on.

“Huh, well, Ah guess there’s only more of me to love…” Foghorn saw his chunkier face in a nearby mirror. His cheeks had thickened up and there seemed to be the start of a triple chin. Heck, his wings also seemed to have gotten as fat as his legs!

Looking around, he saw the plump fox and the tubby turian sitting at a table looking strangely at the ample avian standing in the remains of a white suit.

Aha… more fans! Boy he had some stories to lay on these two!

…His Belly Mouthed Back And Then There Were Seven

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RULES
Read carefully!

- This is your typical 'Survivor' scenario, where instead of voting for who you'd like to win, you all get to VOTE FOR WHO YOU WANT TO LOSE.

- The guest with the most votes at the end of each round will fall into a trap and gain weight before being eliminated from the roster.

- IMPORTANT: One of the guests is actually a conspirator! The last guest left standing is the spy and will not gain weight at all. Who is it? That's for you to decide!

- Each trap is more potent than the one before it! The longer a guest lasts, the fatter they may get!

- Go to https://www.furaffinity.net/view/17858453/ to see which guests are left! ONLY VOTES PLACED HERE WILL COUNT FOR THE FOURTH ROUND!

- Voting ends at 11:59 PM EST, Tuesday, October 13th