Once again, thank you for your patience! Previously on A Bird's Appetite, Chuck woke up a heck of a lot heavier than he had been the day before following a drunken dining event. This chapter picks up with Chuck getting to work and starting to figure out his new shape. There are a couple of sketches in this one, so I do recommend checking out the pdf! :]

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Chuck clung to the standing rail of the subway, terrified to fall over again. Learning the ins and outs of balancing with his billowed girth was a bigger transition than he’d expected. He had taken a tumble at the first stop, betrayed by the pull of his own weight, and refused to embarrass himself a second time.
When the train pulled up to his station, he waited for the doors to open fully before releasing the rail. Then he stepped carefully onto the platform and cautiously made his way up the stairs out of the station. He wrung his handfeathers, sore from hanging on for dear dignity.
The parrot lifted his tired eyes to the large clock face integrated centrally in the brick train station architecture. It was fifteen minutes to twelve and all he had eaten was a donut. And two cups of coffee, if it counted. Although his tummy burbled a quiet, unsettled string of complaint, he was grateful that there was no time to grab food. It was probably the only thing stopping him from engorging again. He knew he had trouble stopping when he started, and he really didn’t need to stuff himself again.
The parrot pulled on his sky-blue uniform hat and tried one last time to succeed with just one button on his work shirt, to no avail. Wilbur’s singlet wasn’t exactly uniform, but at least it was presentable. His stretch-marked and reddened tum was well hidden under the white fabric, which was all Chuck cared about. The blue button-up dangled from around his armpits, settling around his back well enough, despite its inability to conquer his front.
He grimaced and dabbed an anxious sweat from his brow. His new two-plus-size work shirt was supposed to arrive today, and he knew it wouldn’t fit. Not even close. How was he going to explain it? He was an awful liar, but in this situation, he would say anything other than the truth.
Chuck took a few steps to continue on his way, but stopped himself shortly. Perhaps to delay the inevitable start of his shift and the gazes of his colleagues, the bird tarried to adjust his waistband. He loosened one notch on the adjustable elastic lining the band, letting his constricted gut have another inch of room to breathe. Pressure came off his chest as his belly sunk lower, swallowed by the crotch of his borrowed jeans. His paunch bulged around his hips.; an inflated innertube of ass and stomach.
He dried his clammy hands on the denim overlying his attention-seeking love handles and took a deep breath. First looking up and down the street, the parrot braved the crossing to the mechanic lot. The tow truck was on its way out for a call. Only two cars sat parked in the queue space, two others at reception. It was a quiet day, just as the receptionist had said.
On quiet days, the mechanics blasted tunes in the workshop to maintain a good workflow. The Rolling Stones filled the air.
Chuck shyly waved to a co-worker on his way to the reception office.
“Alright, Chuck?” the German Shepherd called, polishing a monkey wrench with a greasy cloth.
“Alright, Goose,” Chuck answered, already feeling heat around his collar.
The bird shuffled quickly to the main door to check in at reception and get it all over with before he had a chance to run away. The twinkle of the bell alerted everyone in the office of his arrival, capturing the attention of waiting-room minders and the busty bovine receptionist.
Michelle brightly greeted him with a wave and broad toothy smile, coated in painted red lips. Her big blue eyes found their way to Chuck’s waist almost immediately, and Chuck painfully watched the confusion take over her smile and cloud her stare. Her lips twitched. Then she adjusted, and the confusion was replaced again by that welcoming aura of hers. It was all almost instantaneous.
“Hey darling, how are you doing?”
Chuck awkwardly picked up a pen from beside her and scratched his arrival time onto the weekly roster on the wall. “I’m okay, Michelle. How are you?”
“Swell, as ever.” The cow picked up a plate of cookies and held them out, startling a jumpy Chuck backwards. “Cookie, darling?”
Chuck exhaled and smoothed down his ruffled feathers, blushing. He nodded and daintily plucked one chocolatey biscuit from the presented pile. “Thank you.” His stomach rumbled noisily and he hastily folded his arms over his paunch. He tossed the cookie into his beak and made a break for the door to the garage. Only two steps from where he’d started he was stopped by a bovine claw on his shoulder.
“Hun…” Michelle presented him the plate of cookies, this time pressing them into his grasp. “Take the whole plate.”
“Really, I don’t need—”
“Please, I insist.” The cow wiped her hooves on her apron. “And, Chuck?”
Chuck nervously met her eyes to show he was listening. She pursed her lips and gave a knowing little smile.
“Come with me, hun.”
She put a hoof between his shoulder blades and guided him out of reception and through to the back office. She closed the door behind them and moved her hoof to squeeze his shoulder gently.
“Do you need a new shirt, dear?”
He swallowed and covered his beak in surprise. The heat burned around his collar, and under his pectoral flab. That was new; sudden and uncomfortable. Half-consciously he rubbed his chest with his thickened bicep and elbow.
Michelle cupped her jaw and gave him a look of earnest. “Please, no need to be embarrassed, Chuck. It’s just that your new shirt arrived this morning and I don’t think…” Her eyes wandered down his expanded frame. “I don’t think it’s going to fit.”
“Oh no,” Chuck gulped. “Michelle, I—”
“It’s okay, we can exchange it. No one has to hear anything about it. I just need to know your size, darling.” Michelle gave him a sympathetic smile and rubbed his arm. “We’ll have it sorted between us.”
Chuck shifted his weight uncomfortably and put the plate of cookies on the desk. He halfheartedly lifted his arms in something resembling a shrug and shook his head. “I don’t know my size. Really, I don’t.” The parrot moaned and buried his beak in his hands. “I just… I just blew up overnight. It’s embarrassing. Look, I… I had too much to drink. I woke up twice the size I was yesterday. I can’t explain. I’m fat and embarrassed and the size of my shirt is the last thing I want to think about right now.”
“Oh, hun! Don’t be embarrassed!” Michelle rushed towards him to grab his hands. “Chuck, darling, you look so handsome, and you have nothing to be embarrassed about. Let me check the tag on that singlet you’re wearing, and we’ll get that order sorted right now. Okay?”
Chuck exhaled a shaky breath and reached back to find the tag. The cow stood on the tips of her hooves to squint at it, then gave him a reassuring pat. She bustled over to the desk to write down a number, then picked up the phone.
“I’ll order it right now, okay? Don’t you worry, Chuck.”
Chuck took another cookie. “Thank you, Michelle. I ‘ppreciate it.”
**
By the time the end of his shift approached, Chuck was so hungry that it hurt. Goose and the other mechanic had shot off already, leaving the parrot alone with the last car of the day. The parrot had cranked up the stereo to conceal the unrelenting reports from his stomach. If he had to feel the all the rumbling, at the very least he didn’t have to listen to it.
The light from the outside was just beginning to dim and a gentle evening chill filled the air. A walk to the shopping mall would be nice, followed by a breeze and the early twinkles of starlight. Only a few steps left in the ball joint installation, and his last job of the day would be ready for discharge. Lock-up to ensue. Then, free at last to find new clothes, to gorge on the greasiest food his cravings could drive him to, and to have the biggest, richest, chocolatiest thickshake he could find.
Beside him in the garage, Wilbur’s broken down hunk of junk sat with its under-carriage just about level with the floor. The tow-truck had brought it in, but with Chuck out all morning, all the appointment times were booked out already and the old trash pile was set aside to tomorrow’s line-up. Chuck had the reluctant pleasure of signing on the job to his queue, meaning he would be dealing with his cousin the next day. Or sooner, if he couldn’t bring himself to face Kyle.
“Is that the Bee Gees?”
Chuck jolted abruptly, slamming his head hard on the undercarriage of his last job. He yelped and smacked both greased up hands over the injury.
Kyle’s webbed claws shuffled to the rhythm of How Deep is Your Love as he mumbled and hummed the tune despite how little of the lyrics he knew.
Chuck’s eyes widened and sweat started to stream from his brow, watching his partner quietly groove. From under the car, he could only make out the tailored legs of the flamingo’s grey suit. The parrot wiped his hands on his shirt, frowning anxiously at the car undercarriage.
“How’s your hangover, lovebird?” The flamingo was still dancing. “Drunk Chuck was adorable over the phone. We should absolutely get wasted more often, don’t you think?”
Chuck drummed his fingers on his waist and assessed his escape routes. “I really don’t remember if we had a conversation, and with the state I was in, I’m deeply sorry if we did.”
Kyle laughed. “Adorable.” The Bee Gees faded out, and Kyle squealed at the transition to Elvis Presley.
While the flamingo was distracted by the primal need to impersonate Elvis under the influence of Jailhouse Rock, Chuck rolled out from under the car on the opposite side of where his partner was.
Kyle engaged with him like an Elvis impersonator should with eye contact and gestures and an excellent pelvic thrust that Chuck would have appreciated on any other day.
The parrot’s head poked up over the car while his curvaceous bodice hid behind the car, concealed by tinted windows. “So, what… what are you doing here?”
The flamingo continued swishing his hips and bobbing his head. “Picking you up. Taking you home. Making you dinner. Cuddling on the couch, watching something light. And then…” the flamingo made lewd and suggestive gestures that turned his partner beet red.
“Kyle!” Chuck hid his face. “I’m at work.”
Kyle shrugged and pointed, “Sure, but that’s your last car, isn’t it? Then, your chariot awaits.”
Chuck glanced out to the parking lot, where their car was skewed across two spaces. The parrot huffed and waved his arms at the offensive display. “You’re a menace. A menace. Go fix your parking. I have to discharge this car.”
“Ooh, testy. Forceful.” Kyle winked and stepped back. “I’ll see you in a minute. Someone has to do something about my dreadful parking violations.”
“Oh, scram.” Chuck bit back a smile, shooing the flamingo off with a wave. The well-dressed bird bounced with every step to the car. Chuck waited for him to disappear into the cabin before he moved to lower his last job off the jacks.
The discharge went quickly, and Chuck ran through all the steps of locking up in a well-rehearsed routine. As the last lock clicked into place at the exterior of the garage, arms reached around him from behind. He jumped just about out of his skin, staggering back from his apprehender.
Kyle blinked. Chuck blinked.
Kyle looked at Chuck’s waist. Chuck tried to hide his waist.
The birds were silent for a while. It felt like an eternity.
“I’ll lose it,” Chuck blurted. His hands fluttered. “The weight. I’ll lose it.”
Kyle cocked his head to one side. “Why?”
“Well, I--! I mean, you… I mean… I just…”
“I like it.” Kyle closed the distance between them and slipped his hands under Chuck’s shirt. “Wilbur’s clothes? Not so much. But, you, Chuck. I could never have too much of you.”
Speechless, Chuck hugged his chest and stared down, a spectator to the release of his stomach from the confines of his waistband. He watched pink and purple plumage explore. Warm sensations massaged the flesh, awoken by the hungry touch.
“I’m going to take you home,” Kyle murmured. “Make you dinner. Cuddle on the couch, watch something light. And then we’re going to…”