147 lbs
“Man… I really need to bulk up if I wanna stand a chance at the competition… Gotta crank things up a notch!”

Grr…

Kent was certainly right about his situation - there were some real hulks in the gym’s competition! He had six months to get himself in the proper shape if he wanted any shot at winning that prize, and securing a place in his favorite gym’s wall of fame - heck, maybe he’d even end up in the papers! But, he’d have to pack on the pounds - fast! And there were plenty of fast food joints that would help him bulk up real nice - sure, it wasn’t exactly healthy, but hey, you can’t make any gains without a little risk.

Time for the first binge…

—-

249 lbs
“*Mmf* - Progressing nicely… Buuuut, I should pack on some more, just to be safe…”

Worble…

Well… The bulking was certainly progressing nicely! Perhaps a little too nicely, come to think of it. Kent was 5 months out from the competition, and his twiggish outline was now disrupted by a large, soft, potbelly - although it was swiftly becoming too large to be considered a real potbelly… He really should’ve stopped and started turning those pounds into muscle, but… He remembered how big those muscleheads were… most of em’ still had at least a hundred pounds on him! If he really wanted to win, he should take it juuussttt a little farther…

He licked his chops in determination, as he sank his teeth into the juicy burger in his hands, and, when that was burger was thoroughly vanquished, he gleefully moved on to the triple order of fires, brushing past the already defeated 20-pack of nuggets…

—-

399 lbs
“Heh - Wow! I might be overdoin’ it a little… But… Where’s the fun if I don’t push it to 400…?”

Glurgle… Gwolp… Wob…

Overdoin’ a little? Well, Kent just uttered the understatement of the year, didn’t he? He was a downright fatso! His alarmingly quick gain has caused the fast majority of his greasy, fatty diet to settle on his soft, marshmallow-like stomach, but that uneven gain wouldn’t last for long… Already, his once fit and trim body was becoming used digesting the enormous, unhealthy meals that its owner forced down his gullet, and the fat was beginning to pop up on other parts of him.

His cheeks were a little fluffier than before, his neck a bit thicker, his pecs a bit softer, and his rump a good deal rounder… What did the corpulent cat expect when he bulked up with chocolate ice cream and fatty fast food? If he was lucky, he’d get down to an only-somewhat fat size in time for the competition if he worked it down, but, with three months to go, there was no chance of him turning it all into muscle…

The obese ocelot’s stomach rumbled as he licked his lips, curiosity very clearly getting the better of the cat, as he envisioned the scale reading out a digit higher than it’s already monumental 400… As soon as the cat shifted his bulk off the scale, he was already waddling over to the kitchen, his soft stomach bouncing happily as it anticipated the sweet, fatty galloon of double-chunk-brownie-batter ice cream it’s owner was heading for…

—-

503 lbs
“Mmmf - a - another five pies and I can max out my calories for sure - th- that trophy is mine…!”

Mmf - Blorp - Slorsh - Bwob…

Any delusions of muscular grandeur where surely buried beneath Kent’s heavy boulder of flab, even if the fat feline was slower on the realization himself. With only a month to go until the competition, he was sure to get smacked in the face by reality real soon - what did he think the judges would say? Would they praise him for his mighty, truck-like legs? His blubbery, blorping belly? His impressive - and growing - collection of chins?

In spite of all the alarm bells that should’ve been set off by the scale - as well as his ever-rounding reflection - the ocelot maintained a blissful state of obliviousness… Some part of him deep down must’ve known just how dire his doughiness had become, but outwardly… The ocelot truly believed his gluttony was the key to his success… Could there really be any logic to that theory…?

—-

ERROR
“I - I’m here for the Heavyweight Show! I - urp - do you guys have snacks…?”

“Uhh… Sir… You’re er- too heavy for that competition… But there might be another contest more up your alley…”

“Too heavy for the heavyweights!? Oh-h boy… Well - huff - what’s the other competition.”

Hurp - Huff - Hlorble - Slorrshhhh - Gwob…

In a display of equal parts indignation, embarrassment, and disbelief that Kent - very publicly - became aware of what a blubbery behemoth he’d become… Any hopes of him entering the competition - let alone winning it - were dashed when he clambered his chubby paws onto that scale, shattering it with only half his incredible bulk on the device… He didn’t even try to deny the truth, at that point.

He wasn’t just chubby. He wasn’t just fat. Hell, he wasn’t even a simple fatass - he was a ginormous, grade-A butterball! His toes were doomed to live out the rest of their lives obscured from their owners eyes, as his muscles were similarly fated to remain buried under thick, squishy adipose. His belly sagged down to his knees, the apron threatening to droop down even further, as the indulgent ocelot asked for further snacks after his already gut-busting first, second, and third breakfasts - the feline somehow forgetting about the heavy bag of fast food, and thick, syrupy lemonade that was already in his hand…

But… The ocelot’s heart lifted a little when the organizer mentioned another competition… He would’ve asked if it was Sumo Wrestling, but he winced, remembering the size of even the biggest sumos… he was probably too fat for that, too!

—-

1,989 lbs - Lookin’ Good Handsome!

“The Grand Gain-Off is in full swing for the enormous “Obesecelot” in pen 12, comin’’ in at his first TON real quick!”

“A… Ton? Sh-should I stop…? No… I-I should have some more…!”
Huff… Puff… Huff… Glomp… Jiggle…

The past month was a daze for Kent - his “training” only increased after he got signed on for the competition, which was, from all appearances, much bigger than some state heavyweight competition… But this new contest was… far, far stranger - it was like an eating contest, but it never seemed to end. He’d officially been “in the contest” for the whole month - and somehow it was only “properly” starting now… They weren’t just measuring how much he could eat either, they were specifically measuring how much he gained…!

The food was endless, seemingly, and with both his impressive appetite and the engorging encouragement of his musclegutted gray squirrel trainer - although, perhaps feeder was the better word, he ballooned out even further than before - or, maybe, blimped out, was the right phrase for this juncture! Now, with his weight approaching a ton, with almost all of said pounds still centered on his goliath of a gut, the “Obesecelot” almost had doubts… Before he smelled more of that delicious, fatty food… Suddenly, the spirit of the corpulent competition filled him once more, as he ate on to the big 2-0-0-0, his swollen, sloshing stomach gurgling in excitement…

—-

7,435 lbs - Wow, what a WHALE!

“And the legendary “Obesecelot” has rolled into 1st Place, breaking the record for Fastest Gain!!! This calls for a celebratory pigout, right, big guy?

BWAAAAAARRPPP!

At long last, the ocelot’s gains had consistently evened out - his enormous hoard of heft now spread itself out everywhere, except, perhaps, for his tail - making him resemble a mountain of jiggly, yielding dough… His weight was indulgent, immense, incredible, and insane by any rational standard - but, by the show’s standard, he could use another digit on that pound count of his…

Would the ocelot have said, “no,” if he had known that this competition never ended? Would he have allowed himself to be doomed to the fate of a grand, towering, immobile lump of lard? Would he have saved himself from a fate of ever-jiggling thighs, sunken, swollen chins, ample, flab-buried arms, and a blubbery, blimped-out belly?

The ocelot didn’t really care to contemplate this fact - all he cared about was his next meal… Well… Admittedly, the thought of finally being in the papers like he wanted did make him purr - but, that may’ve just been some additional growling as he awaited his next glut-fest…

I have a distinct feeling that one award won’t be enough for this oceanic ocelot - he’s in it to win this thing… And there’s plenty more bulk to build!

—-

Here’s another Scaling Up YCH from the last batch for EmeraldOcelot - it was lovely getting to draw a character with such a fun and complex fur pattern, picked up a few new tricks for manipulating complex coats and fur textures from this one, which really came in handy for stretching the heck out of those spots and stripes!~ I had a great time working with the “bulk-gone-wrong” idea too, a very lovely concept, and one I really aught to do more with sometime~

Anyhow, thanks again to EmeraldOcelot for commissioning me, and I hope you all enjoy.

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I’m currently running a new batch of this YCH as well - if you’d be interested in getting something like this yourself, feel free to check it out here:

Scaling Up - $80 5-Part YCH!

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 EmeraldOcelot - The Walking - or, Waddling - Cautionary Tale…