This is a continuation of  Borusa-Ryalam's Scaling Up YCH, featuring a returning role for his ever-ravenous inteleon Dimitri, featuring plenty of galaxy-gobbling growth! It was a pleasure to work with  Borusa-Ryalam as always, especially given the concepts/ideas he had for this piece. This sequence allowed me to develop and try out plenty of new techniques, and overall, I'm very pleased with how everything turned out, especially in regards to the planets and suns/stars!

Thank you again to  Borusa-Ryalam for commissioning me for this project, and I hope you all enjoy!

—-

Trev shouldn’t have come to work today.

The broad-shouldered and increasingly broad-bellied raccoon let out a heavy, irritated sigh, kicking his feet up on the table in the old-fashioned break room, idly digging into the overloaded donut box plopped in his lap - or, rather, onto his increasingly shelf-like belly. The fat-faced raccoon tossed a pink-frosted donut into his mouth, munching without a care in the world. He hissed as he felt something cold jabbing into his growing love handle, lifting his droopy arm to get a proper look at the disturbance. He rolled his eyes as he looked at the offending bit of piping - the company’s haphazard retrofit of the old boiler room into a breakroom being all too obvious.

He grunts, shifting himself over to avoid the ancient plumbing, his overall-clad stomach resting heavily in his lap. He couldn’t kick back the way he used to - not surprising considering how much of a trap this job’s been. Sure, working in a donut factory seemed beyond sweet at first - flexible hours with plenty of breaks, friendly and welcoming coworkers, and not to mention the perk of being able to eat any donuts you mess up with!

But, as his first month’s gone by and the pounds have piled on… the job’s become sickening in its sweetness. His eyes lazily scan the wall of the ill-maintained room, looking over the corny inspirational posters and overly-cheery company memorabilia. Cute little pictures of animals having “a Case of the Mondays” stood stalwart alongside countless photographs, pamphlets, company memos, and other pedestrian things.

“Donut’In Deer - Family owned and operated since 1882,” read the proudest of the signs, displaying the founder of the popular pastry brand, Daedalus Dough, who resembled a whale more than a deer. The top-hat man was simply immense, with his rolling stomach requiring an entire metal cart to keep him even semi-mobile - and even still, Trev could swear he spotted a few donuts hiding amongst his rolls of flab! It was a miracle that a belly could even grow that big, especially on such a supposedly dapper deer! But, given Trev’s experience with his product, it’s not too much of a miracle…

The loud creaking of the breakroom’s poorly painted metal door interrupts his thoughts, a looming, white stomach filling the whole space as something tried desperately to squeeze itself through the opening. Trev smirks as the bloated beast marched forward on comparatively tiny legs, revealing the flab-caked head of a ferret. The ferret begins to open his mouth, a proud grin cutting at his chubby cheeks, before the well-timed throw of an eclair interrupts him, the overs-stuffed pastry flying straight into his mouth and down his gullet. The fat ferret tetters from the impact, nearly slipping on another old, loose pastry, just barely catching himself with one of the loose pipes, his dropping belly wobbling too and fro and his open off-pink button-up shirt flaps listlessly in the chaos.

Laughter pinches his cheeks as, Trev covers his mouth by shoving a fudge-dipped donut in it, barely stifling his snorts. “Mmf, haha! No matter how fat I get, I can still laugh at your lardchugging ass slippin’ and sliddin’ whenever food gets on your lips!”

The wide weasel steadies, dusting himself off, protesting, “Hey! You’re the one who put that pastry in my mouth - of course, you’re pretty busy stuffin’ your mug at the moment, so, if you’d rather not have me warn ya about the end of the world, that’s your loss fat boy!”

“Hey, don’t start callin’ me fatboy yet, I’m only- wait… end of the world?” Trev’s brow furrowed, “You’re not gonna send me to another seedy site from 1999 that’ll fry my machine, right? Cause you still haven’t paid for those parts, Wess…

While Trev may have a beer gut with some extra pounds to spare, his coworker made him look downright emaciated. Wess was an immensely overfed weasel, with fat caking and sagging off of nearly every part of his body, except for his forearms, making his overinflated upper arm look more like a stylish white water wing, adding to the 6-foot ferret’s overall disproportionate posture. Wess had been working here for 13 months, and, given how much he wobbles, Trev wouldn’t be shocked if he gained a spare hundred pounds or so with each gluttonous month he’d been here.

Worse yet, the ferret had a belly that seemed to double as a batter black hole and battering ram nowadays. His ever-expanding form and gentle warnings about “misuse of company pastry mix piping” were proof enough of the former. As if feeling that the universe was asking him for a demonstration of the latter, the ferret turns just a bit too quickly as he turned to find the TV remote, the curve of his belly colliding with Trev’s feet, knocking him out of his formerly comfortable position. Trev grumbles and would jeer and joke, if it weren’t for the extra donut he shoved in his mouth a moment before. His frown deepens when he realizes that, somehow, in the confusion, the white blimp had managed to snatch the whole box of donuts off the table! How he even reached them defied all known physics.

The ferret shook his head, greedily shoveling donuts into his maw as he says, “No, no, no -mmf- this has nothing to do with that, and also, I’ve more than paid up for those parts with the number of times I’ve paid for your lunch - BURP - pig, but that’s beside the point! I mean, it’s for real! Look-”

The ferret frosting-caked digits eagerly fiddle with the remote, while simultaneously trying to gorge his groaning gut further. Trev rolled his eyes, saying, “Look, I know you’re excited to shock me again, but you should at least put down the doughnuts while you search - right within my reach would be a great place for-”

“Hush! Look!” The ferret whisper-yells, as a news report starts midway through. It was of some feed of a fat lion over… something. Trev and Wess look on in fascination, amazement, horror, and panic, until what they were seeing finally sunk in.

“Dude…” Trev starts, leaning back in his chair as the report cut out, “Was that… just… a mountain-sized fatass eating an entire city?”

“Urp - Yep.” The ferret said, plopping his butt into three of the chairs and resting the box of donuts on his girthy gut, as he continued to graze, his eyes deep in thought, a strange smirk on his face.

“Not the way I expected things to go, certainly, but, I do appreciate it. It’s certainly better than any of the other apocalypses I’ve theorized in the past!”

Trev passively munches on the now-closer pastries as he agrees, “Yeah… it’s better than the moon crashing into the world or the sun going out - but, this one kind of reminds me of your predictions of a big, red blob consuming the whole world, as well as that one black hole idea you had.”

“Hah! See? So I was half right!” The weasel beamed. Trev rolled his eyes but decided not to steal his thunder. After all, what would this one, small victory mean if they were all about to be gobbled up? Wess continued, “I do have some good news for us… Mr. Dough has some deadbeat brother that lives there, and he took the first helicopter out to see if he could nab him before the worst, but, well, I don’t think I have to tell ya that won’t work out, especially seeing as that things eventually gonna gobble up everything - but… there is one silver lining to Mr. Dough leaving so fast.”

Trev cocks a suspicious eyebrow between munches, saying, “Mff- what’s that…?”

The wobbly weasel dangled a pair of keys in front of the round raccoon, gleefully chirping, “He forgot the keys to the vault! Seeing as we’ve got nothin’ to lose… you up for the ‘snack break’ of your life, my Trevvy boy?”

Trev’s eyes went wide for a moment. He sputtered, “ You mean… The donut vault… Where all the most delicious, decadent, and doughy doughnuts… is real? I-I thought that was just some marketing mumbo-jumbo that you took too seriously!”

“Nope! It’s real, Trev - you need to learn to stop doubting me, but, there ain’t much time for that now. But, given the time zone difference… we have about 12 hours till that sea of lard reaches us. What’dya say we spend our last our treating the two doughiest dudes we know with the doughiest doughnuts around?” The weasel said, smirking as he emptied the last of the crumbs into his greedy maw.

Trev smirked, saying, “Gee… sounds like an awful lot of ‘dough,’ doughboy. You sure you’re up for it?”

Wess smiled, leaning to the side, giving a challenging look to Trev, whispering commandingly, “You think I’m a doughboy now? You ain’t seen nothing yet!”

Trev chortles as he got to his feet, stretching and patting his stomach, saying, “Really? Well, I’m gonna make sure I’ll be double the doughboy you ever were then, fat cheeks - I’d race ya there, but I guess I’ll settle with rolling you there instead, seeing as you know the directions…”

Wess laughs, wobbling to his feet with a grunt, his stomach rumbling, saying, “You made a good choice, Trevvy boy… now, who’s ready to spend our last hours in style?

---

To say Trev was full would be the understatement of the year. No - he hit full about 10 hours ago. Right now, he had reached a state of stuffing Nirvana, if such a thing existed. He chuckled between ginormous bites of the soft, decadent dough that made up the tire-sized donut he was plowing through, his overburdened form groaning as more pounds piled onto every part of him. Maybe the adrenaline from the ticking clock was causing this crazy-fast and corpulent metabolism he’d gotten, maybe there was something special in the food, or maybe it was some weird aura that mountain-crushing,
lardbutt gave off - Trev couldn’t tell, and right now, he didn’t care!

Trev finally felt cool brick touch the tip of his furthest roll, a twinkle shining between his fat-caked eyes. “Hey, - OOOURRAPPPP! - fatass! Guess who’s touching all four - HIC - walls? It ain’t you, is it string bean?”

Trev thanked his lucky stars that he happened to be looking in Wess’ direction when they first plopped their fat butts down when the flow of donuts became too much for their legs to bear. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to jeer and gloat to that wimp, Wess! Of course, back then, all those hours ago, Trev looked like a whole different raccoon - now, he had taken on the form of the dough he devoured in every sense of the word. The once plump and pleasant beer belly he held had blimped out into a tremendous sea of flab and rolls, each decadent bite of the heavenly trove of doughnuts adding untold pounds to his form. His weight spread itself out fairly evenly, if one could call anything about this raccoon “fair” - each cheek of his rear was large enough to flatten a tractor-trailer, and his belly was bigger than a house! Despite it all though, his mind, belly, and appetite hungered for more - after all, he had to make sure that ferret didn’t get ahead of him again!

Wess groans in between gulping down his slurry of donut batter and frosting, fresh from the vat, yawning back, “Ooohhhhh, my dear, dear, Tub O’ Trev - did you only just hit four walls? I did that at least an - BUUUUARRRRAAAWWARRPPPP - an hour ago! I can’t believe you’re just now catching up - if eating’s too much hard work, maybe you should just fall asleep against the oncoming tide of my great, bountiful belly - it’ll be - BURRRPPPPP - mighty comfy!”


Wess certainly had a right to his satisfaction - right now, he stood, er, rather, sat at nearly three times the weight of the rotund raccoon! The massive, globular weasel was far, far rounder, and not just in pure poundage. His fat seemed to center almost entirely on his belly, with his ginormous gut adopting more of a spherical shape, aside from the cushion of rolls at the very bottom! The glutting and gorging of this ever-fattening ferret had certainly paid by the pound.

But, unfortunately, all good things must end, and both blobs lurched between their bickering, feeling something massive, far larger than even them, lifting their building. The two overfed lardballs fell to the far wall, smooshing up side-by-side, more or less. Another rotation, and suddenly, the roof came off, and everything else came out with it - except for them. The two let out light whimpers as they saw the remaining doughnuts begin to tumble out around them. To think, all that food going to one guy - and it’s not even one of them!

“Uhh - URP - why aren’t we falling, dude?” Trev whispered in confusion, from between his tubby cheeks.

“I think we’re wedged! My genius plan has come to fruition - erUURRRPPPPP… mostly. I think when fatboy here decides to finish the factory, we’re goin’ down too.” Wess said sheepishly.

“Huh. Ain’t much of a genius plan, now is it?” Trev quipped, before nervously looking down as the last of the doughnuts and appliances emptied into the gaping, blue-ringed hole beneath them, the rays of the sun just barely reaching the wedged wide loads in their awkward space. Trev nervously spat out, “But… uh… it was still a good plan! In the face of… this… I- hey man, not to get sappy, but… if it weren’t for this blob, you’d be the doughiest dude around.”

Wess’ wide eyes welled up as he smiled, his lips quivering, “Aww… you mean it…?”

Trev laughs, feeling another unpleasant lurch, “Of course… this was… the best way to spend a time like this, and I’m glad you managed to nab those keys and take me here. Since I haven’t a clue who that puffed-up Pokemon down there is, you, Wess the Wide, are by far the fattest guy I know!”

Wess continued the bashful pouty routine for just another moment, before slyly smirking as he snuck out an eclair from under one of his neck rolls, and, in a feat of amazing dexterity, somehow managing to hit Trev right in the gob, even with his fat arms! “Well, you’re the fattest guy I know too, blubberbutt! Knew you couldn’t resist one final snack in front of your face, could ya?”

As the factory began to fall, the two fatass friends were too busy laughing to even care.

Nevertheless, Trev couldn’t help but think that he shouldn’t have come to work today...