FA+
Shop
11305
Views
Views
123
Favorites
Favorites
Category
Story / Fat Furs
Species Red Panda
Size 100 x 100
File Size 64.2 kB
Report this content
More from IndigoRho
Listed in Folders
I mentioned in an earlier journal that I was writing a weight-gain novella, and it's officially finished! Here's a preview chapter to give you an idea about the kind of content in the novella. Includes a fat red panda getting fatter.
Preview 2
And if you enjoy it, the full novella can be purchased on Itchio here: https://indigorho.itch.io/levis-game, or on Amazon here: www.amazon.com/dp/B08R6PFNZ4
Icon art done by
roundroses
Levi's Game - Preview
By: Indi
Heavy panting and the creaking of worn wood echoed down the stairwell and into the cellar. The doughy mound of a massive belly preceded the red panda it was attached to. Every cautious step made the mass jiggle and shift, ripples visible like waves. A skin-tight t-shirt covered his moobs and nothing else. He was pillowy all over, his body a series of curves. His chin practically rested atop his soft chest and his cheeks wobbled as he huffed and frowned. His love handles brushed the sides of the stairwell as he descended, causing him to wince each time. The fabric of his shorts creaked with each step, so loudly he wasn’t sure if they were just straining or finally beginning to tear apart.
When he finally reached the bottom he stopped, one fat paw braced against the wall as he caught his breath. He was still resting as he began to scan the cellar he’d ended up in. The walls were made of stone bricks, and the ceiling arched. It looked more like a tunnel than a room. Pipes crossed the room up high at numerous points, hints of modern to disrupt the relatively ancient-looking space. Uncovered bulbs lit the way, bright enough to make him avert his eyes. Kegs lined the left wall, stacked three high. There was little else in the place aside from them; just a couple old tables, some buckets, and plenty of wine bottles, most empty.
The red panda’s gaze would frequently linger on the kegs and bottles, and he found himself licking his lips. The act made him shudder. Despite being quiet and plain, the hefty red panda was terrified of the cellar.
A cackling voice filled the air, causing the red panda to jolt and jiggle. He looked back up the dark stairwell but shook his head, reluctantly returning his gaze to the cellar ahead. “Congratulations! You’ve only got one more challenge left, and I must admit it’s the simplest yet. All you need to do is waddle on down to the exit and you’re free to go along your merry, massive way, friend.” He’d grown to fear the mysterious voice. As friendly as it sounded, it was always wrapped in mischief. “You handled the other challenges far better than I expected. But while you should certainly take pride in that, I can’t help but remember how lean and trim you were upon arriving at my humble abode. Perhaps not peak condition, but a fine example of athleticism and physical fitness nonetheless. Now you’re looking much more like your old college self. Must be nostalgic, right?”
The red panda blushed. He glanced down at himself, at the wide curve of his belly, and immediately looked away.
“You put so much effort into losing that weight—years,” the voice continued. “Oh well, you’ve done it once before, surely you can do it all over again. I bet you’d shed those pounds even faster now that you’ve got the experience. And maybe this time you won’t mock those at the gym struggling where you’ve succeeded.” There was low, mocking laughter. “Or maybe you’ll decide to keep the weight. You certainly haven’t been going out of your way to avoid it tonight.”
Ignoring the voice was impossible, but that didn’t stop the red panda from trying. He looked straight ahead to where a door was, a glowing green “exit” sign hanging above it. His nightmare would be over once he reached it. Everything that’d happened before, everything that’d happen after—none of it would matter. Freedom was freedom.
And so the red panda awkwardly waddled forward. He wasn’t used to the weight yet, how his bulk would bounce and threaten to pull him to the ground if he attempted to go at his familiar, hasty pace. He didn’t dare try to jog, convinced he’d be out of breath within a few feet. How fat even was he? Four hundred pounds? A pipe dream. Even six hundred might be too low a guess. He shoved the thoughts from his mind.
A faint creaking noise came from one of the unmarked kegs, the nozzle shaking. It opened on its own, suddenly, but instead of wine, a steady stream of soft-serve ice-cream began to pour out. He froze in place, his eyes swiftly upon the ice-cream. An agonizing amount of effort was required to look away from the keg and its delicious bounty. He slowed as he passed it, but he still managed to pass it. Then two more kegs began to release ice-cream.
The temptation was simply too much. The red panda took a step, hunched over, and put his lips over the nozzle. He nearly moaned as he tasted the ice-cream. He gulped it down aggressively, almost using the nozzle like a straw. And as he did, his belly began to swell...and so did the rest of him. From top to bottom the red panda was growing fatter. His tight shirt and shorts creaked as they stretched, yet to rip apart despite his gains.
Well over half of the keg had been drained before the red panda was able to force himself away, shoving off and wobbling backwards. He frowned, even as he moaned in satisfaction from the fattening snack. He pressed his chunky paws down on his middle, feeling how much softer it’d become.
“Why so glum, friend?” The voice had returned. “We both know soft-serve ice-cream is your favorite guilty pleasure. You’ve never turned down the opportunity to have some. In fact, I believe you’ve boasted on a number of occasions about being able to chug the stuff forever if given the chance. So here’s your chance, big guy.”
The red panda was on the move again, waddling slightly faster, and wobbling slightly more. He swore he could feel every pound on his body, a mountain of pudge burying his old, slim form, his pride and joy. No, he couldn’t think about that, not now!
Every other keg was starting to overflow with soft-serve, oozing from nozzles and out of cracks. And there wasn’t just vanilla, either, no. Chocolate, banana, caramel, orange, bubble gum, blueberry, lemon, peanut butter—flavors he’d only tasted once before or merely wished to taste. He wasn’t stopping, but he was sticking out his paw and scooping up as much as he could as he passed. The pawfuls added up, the red panda’s weight steadily increasing.
He knew he was still gaining. But as long as he avoided stopping at the kegs he would make it, he knew he could. The taste-testing would sate his cravings, ensuring his willpower wasn’t completely overwhelmed. He’d learned that lesson the hard way in the first couple challenges, which felt like a lifetime ago as he waddled through the cellar. If only he’d taken the ordeal seriously from the beginning!
A loud and long metal groan caught the red panda’s attention, enough to halt his progress but not his momentum, his middle swaying. He looked around, until his eyes settled on one of the pipes. It groaned again, louder than before, and rattled. As it burst he shielded his face with his arms, but no shrapnel flew forth. He moved his arms away, and saw soft-serve gushing from the pipe.
A pleading rumble echoed from his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to cup his paws below the stream of soft-serve and guzzle it all down. No! He wanted to leave, to escape, that’s what he wanted more than anything else. And yet he looked at the soft-serve the same way someone lost in a desert would look at a bottle of water. A battle was going on in his mind, between the impossible cravings and common sense, and common sense was struggling dearly.
He got himself lumbering along again, but not without a deep gulp from the soft-serve waterfall.
More pipes burst, never blocking his way forward but always within arm’s reach. They were toying with him; it was all about the temptation, all about proving he was incapable of resisting the euphoric tastes presented to him. There hadn’t been a single trap, no bindings or manacles. Just an eager voice challenging him to go from Point A to Point B. Just a “hike”.
A pipe to his right was releasing chocolate, and he took three swipes at it as he passed. His rump and belly swelled.
He’d been so damn cocky to start, hadn’t taken anything seriously at all. Maybe if he’d actually been cautious early on he wouldn’t have ballooned so swiftly. At least then he could still run. The exit was getting closer, but not quickly enough. Faster, damn it, faster!
The red panda’s face scrunched up as he exerted himself more, with no meaningful success. There was just too much of him to move. Maybe if he’d had the luxury of a break at some point, or time to adjust to his size. Not that he wanted to get used to being a furry ball of blubber.
Bigger and bigger, heavier and heavier. So big he wouldn’t be able to change clothes without someone’s help. So big he couldn’t bend down. So big he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand back up on his own power if he sat down. With how enormous he felt, he might essentially be immobile already. He started listing off the various doors and hallways in his life he knew he couldn’t fit through anymore. The entry to his kitchen. The door to his favorite burger joint. The tight corner around the cubicles at work that led to the break room, and free donuts.
Food filled his thoughts...and ice-cream filled his maw. His belly nearly reached the floor by the time he realized he was leaning under a stream of peanut butter soft-serve. He pulled away in dismay. Just concentrating was a struggle, thoughts of food constantly threatening to distract and doom him.
He could still move, but his pace was down to a crawl. Despair was hitting hard, and though he continued onward, he did so with little hope of making it to the end. Giving up and giving in was beginning to sound desirable.
A taste here, a gulp there, swelling everywhere. The kegs were now behind him. Leather creaked as his belt stretched and his boots grew. He knew the seams of his shorts had finally ripped, just not enough for them to fall off yet. There were tears in his shirt as well.
Strawberry filled the last leaking pipe, and for once he actually liked it. Then there was nothing. Just a ten foot gap between him and the doors leaving the cellar, wide enough even for a behemoth of a red panda like him to pass through.
His heart was racing. He let out a choking laugh of disbelief. Freedom. It’d be a Pyrrhic victory, he wouldn’t even begin to deny that, but he’d take it in a heartbeat. Tears were forming, the red panda struggling to wipe them away. Suddenly his ears twitched. There was a sound coming from within the wall, more metallic groaning, but muffled. That’s when he noticed the hose, coiled around a spool only a step away. Slowly his eyes widened, his breath still. The hose shifted, its entire length swelling as something traveled through. Though he knew what it’d be, he couldn’t take his eyes off it. Chocolate soft-serve sputtered out.
The last ounce of self-restraint in the red panda was wiped away. He grabbed the hose with both paws and shoved it into his mouth, his cheeks puffing up as they filled with ice-cream. With every gulp his belly bounced, jiggling the rest of his body as it ballooned. Soon it reached the cool, stone floor, spreading outward. Tears ran freely, but they were from joy.
Slowly the red panda began to lean forwards, his blimping belly turning into a comfortable seat. His boots left the ground, his round rump rose upward, and his bushy tail swayed in frenzied delight. Gallons of soft-serve and dozens of pounds, yet he wasn’t anywhere near sated. He was gaining weight so fast his body wobbled. He was like a balloon attached to a pump, but there was no air within him, only fat.
The red panda’s middle swelled up against one wall, and then the other, wedging him in the corridor. It reached the doors, blocking them with a wall of pudge. Not that he cared about escaping anymore. Thinking about eating was so much less stressful. His worries drifted away as his eyes glazed over.
“See how happy you are now that you’ve given in?” The voice said. “You’re better off like this, you truly are. I expect a heartwarming thank you once you stop guzzling that bottomless soft-serve; if you stop.” The laughter started soft, growing from soft chuckling to full-on cackling echoing from one end of the cellar to the other. It barely pierced through the red panda’s gluttony, though. Eating was the only thing he cared about anymore. Anything else may as well have not existed.
Preview 2
And if you enjoy it, the full novella can be purchased on Itchio here: https://indigorho.itch.io/levis-game, or on Amazon here: www.amazon.com/dp/B08R6PFNZ4
Icon art done by
roundrosesLevi's Game - Preview
By: Indi
Heavy panting and the creaking of worn wood echoed down the stairwell and into the cellar. The doughy mound of a massive belly preceded the red panda it was attached to. Every cautious step made the mass jiggle and shift, ripples visible like waves. A skin-tight t-shirt covered his moobs and nothing else. He was pillowy all over, his body a series of curves. His chin practically rested atop his soft chest and his cheeks wobbled as he huffed and frowned. His love handles brushed the sides of the stairwell as he descended, causing him to wince each time. The fabric of his shorts creaked with each step, so loudly he wasn’t sure if they were just straining or finally beginning to tear apart.
When he finally reached the bottom he stopped, one fat paw braced against the wall as he caught his breath. He was still resting as he began to scan the cellar he’d ended up in. The walls were made of stone bricks, and the ceiling arched. It looked more like a tunnel than a room. Pipes crossed the room up high at numerous points, hints of modern to disrupt the relatively ancient-looking space. Uncovered bulbs lit the way, bright enough to make him avert his eyes. Kegs lined the left wall, stacked three high. There was little else in the place aside from them; just a couple old tables, some buckets, and plenty of wine bottles, most empty.
The red panda’s gaze would frequently linger on the kegs and bottles, and he found himself licking his lips. The act made him shudder. Despite being quiet and plain, the hefty red panda was terrified of the cellar.
A cackling voice filled the air, causing the red panda to jolt and jiggle. He looked back up the dark stairwell but shook his head, reluctantly returning his gaze to the cellar ahead. “Congratulations! You’ve only got one more challenge left, and I must admit it’s the simplest yet. All you need to do is waddle on down to the exit and you’re free to go along your merry, massive way, friend.” He’d grown to fear the mysterious voice. As friendly as it sounded, it was always wrapped in mischief. “You handled the other challenges far better than I expected. But while you should certainly take pride in that, I can’t help but remember how lean and trim you were upon arriving at my humble abode. Perhaps not peak condition, but a fine example of athleticism and physical fitness nonetheless. Now you’re looking much more like your old college self. Must be nostalgic, right?”
The red panda blushed. He glanced down at himself, at the wide curve of his belly, and immediately looked away.
“You put so much effort into losing that weight—years,” the voice continued. “Oh well, you’ve done it once before, surely you can do it all over again. I bet you’d shed those pounds even faster now that you’ve got the experience. And maybe this time you won’t mock those at the gym struggling where you’ve succeeded.” There was low, mocking laughter. “Or maybe you’ll decide to keep the weight. You certainly haven’t been going out of your way to avoid it tonight.”
Ignoring the voice was impossible, but that didn’t stop the red panda from trying. He looked straight ahead to where a door was, a glowing green “exit” sign hanging above it. His nightmare would be over once he reached it. Everything that’d happened before, everything that’d happen after—none of it would matter. Freedom was freedom.
And so the red panda awkwardly waddled forward. He wasn’t used to the weight yet, how his bulk would bounce and threaten to pull him to the ground if he attempted to go at his familiar, hasty pace. He didn’t dare try to jog, convinced he’d be out of breath within a few feet. How fat even was he? Four hundred pounds? A pipe dream. Even six hundred might be too low a guess. He shoved the thoughts from his mind.
A faint creaking noise came from one of the unmarked kegs, the nozzle shaking. It opened on its own, suddenly, but instead of wine, a steady stream of soft-serve ice-cream began to pour out. He froze in place, his eyes swiftly upon the ice-cream. An agonizing amount of effort was required to look away from the keg and its delicious bounty. He slowed as he passed it, but he still managed to pass it. Then two more kegs began to release ice-cream.
The temptation was simply too much. The red panda took a step, hunched over, and put his lips over the nozzle. He nearly moaned as he tasted the ice-cream. He gulped it down aggressively, almost using the nozzle like a straw. And as he did, his belly began to swell...and so did the rest of him. From top to bottom the red panda was growing fatter. His tight shirt and shorts creaked as they stretched, yet to rip apart despite his gains.
Well over half of the keg had been drained before the red panda was able to force himself away, shoving off and wobbling backwards. He frowned, even as he moaned in satisfaction from the fattening snack. He pressed his chunky paws down on his middle, feeling how much softer it’d become.
“Why so glum, friend?” The voice had returned. “We both know soft-serve ice-cream is your favorite guilty pleasure. You’ve never turned down the opportunity to have some. In fact, I believe you’ve boasted on a number of occasions about being able to chug the stuff forever if given the chance. So here’s your chance, big guy.”
The red panda was on the move again, waddling slightly faster, and wobbling slightly more. He swore he could feel every pound on his body, a mountain of pudge burying his old, slim form, his pride and joy. No, he couldn’t think about that, not now!
Every other keg was starting to overflow with soft-serve, oozing from nozzles and out of cracks. And there wasn’t just vanilla, either, no. Chocolate, banana, caramel, orange, bubble gum, blueberry, lemon, peanut butter—flavors he’d only tasted once before or merely wished to taste. He wasn’t stopping, but he was sticking out his paw and scooping up as much as he could as he passed. The pawfuls added up, the red panda’s weight steadily increasing.
He knew he was still gaining. But as long as he avoided stopping at the kegs he would make it, he knew he could. The taste-testing would sate his cravings, ensuring his willpower wasn’t completely overwhelmed. He’d learned that lesson the hard way in the first couple challenges, which felt like a lifetime ago as he waddled through the cellar. If only he’d taken the ordeal seriously from the beginning!
A loud and long metal groan caught the red panda’s attention, enough to halt his progress but not his momentum, his middle swaying. He looked around, until his eyes settled on one of the pipes. It groaned again, louder than before, and rattled. As it burst he shielded his face with his arms, but no shrapnel flew forth. He moved his arms away, and saw soft-serve gushing from the pipe.
A pleading rumble echoed from his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to cup his paws below the stream of soft-serve and guzzle it all down. No! He wanted to leave, to escape, that’s what he wanted more than anything else. And yet he looked at the soft-serve the same way someone lost in a desert would look at a bottle of water. A battle was going on in his mind, between the impossible cravings and common sense, and common sense was struggling dearly.
He got himself lumbering along again, but not without a deep gulp from the soft-serve waterfall.
More pipes burst, never blocking his way forward but always within arm’s reach. They were toying with him; it was all about the temptation, all about proving he was incapable of resisting the euphoric tastes presented to him. There hadn’t been a single trap, no bindings or manacles. Just an eager voice challenging him to go from Point A to Point B. Just a “hike”.
A pipe to his right was releasing chocolate, and he took three swipes at it as he passed. His rump and belly swelled.
He’d been so damn cocky to start, hadn’t taken anything seriously at all. Maybe if he’d actually been cautious early on he wouldn’t have ballooned so swiftly. At least then he could still run. The exit was getting closer, but not quickly enough. Faster, damn it, faster!
The red panda’s face scrunched up as he exerted himself more, with no meaningful success. There was just too much of him to move. Maybe if he’d had the luxury of a break at some point, or time to adjust to his size. Not that he wanted to get used to being a furry ball of blubber.
Bigger and bigger, heavier and heavier. So big he wouldn’t be able to change clothes without someone’s help. So big he couldn’t bend down. So big he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand back up on his own power if he sat down. With how enormous he felt, he might essentially be immobile already. He started listing off the various doors and hallways in his life he knew he couldn’t fit through anymore. The entry to his kitchen. The door to his favorite burger joint. The tight corner around the cubicles at work that led to the break room, and free donuts.
Food filled his thoughts...and ice-cream filled his maw. His belly nearly reached the floor by the time he realized he was leaning under a stream of peanut butter soft-serve. He pulled away in dismay. Just concentrating was a struggle, thoughts of food constantly threatening to distract and doom him.
He could still move, but his pace was down to a crawl. Despair was hitting hard, and though he continued onward, he did so with little hope of making it to the end. Giving up and giving in was beginning to sound desirable.
A taste here, a gulp there, swelling everywhere. The kegs were now behind him. Leather creaked as his belt stretched and his boots grew. He knew the seams of his shorts had finally ripped, just not enough for them to fall off yet. There were tears in his shirt as well.
Strawberry filled the last leaking pipe, and for once he actually liked it. Then there was nothing. Just a ten foot gap between him and the doors leaving the cellar, wide enough even for a behemoth of a red panda like him to pass through.
His heart was racing. He let out a choking laugh of disbelief. Freedom. It’d be a Pyrrhic victory, he wouldn’t even begin to deny that, but he’d take it in a heartbeat. Tears were forming, the red panda struggling to wipe them away. Suddenly his ears twitched. There was a sound coming from within the wall, more metallic groaning, but muffled. That’s when he noticed the hose, coiled around a spool only a step away. Slowly his eyes widened, his breath still. The hose shifted, its entire length swelling as something traveled through. Though he knew what it’d be, he couldn’t take his eyes off it. Chocolate soft-serve sputtered out.
The last ounce of self-restraint in the red panda was wiped away. He grabbed the hose with both paws and shoved it into his mouth, his cheeks puffing up as they filled with ice-cream. With every gulp his belly bounced, jiggling the rest of his body as it ballooned. Soon it reached the cool, stone floor, spreading outward. Tears ran freely, but they were from joy.
Slowly the red panda began to lean forwards, his blimping belly turning into a comfortable seat. His boots left the ground, his round rump rose upward, and his bushy tail swayed in frenzied delight. Gallons of soft-serve and dozens of pounds, yet he wasn’t anywhere near sated. He was gaining weight so fast his body wobbled. He was like a balloon attached to a pump, but there was no air within him, only fat.
The red panda’s middle swelled up against one wall, and then the other, wedging him in the corridor. It reached the doors, blocking them with a wall of pudge. Not that he cared about escaping anymore. Thinking about eating was so much less stressful. His worries drifted away as his eyes glazed over.
“See how happy you are now that you’ve given in?” The voice said. “You’re better off like this, you truly are. I expect a heartwarming thank you once you stop guzzling that bottomless soft-serve; if you stop.” The laughter started soft, growing from soft chuckling to full-on cackling echoing from one end of the cellar to the other. It barely pierced through the red panda’s gluttony, though. Eating was the only thing he cared about anymore. Anything else may as well have not existed.
Category Story / Fat Furs
Species Red Panda
Size 100 x 100px
File Size 64.2 kB
Comments