The basement of Burger Beacon had changed.

Once it was just an extra storage room full of crates, napkin boxes, and old signage. Now, thanks to Croc’s “special project,” it had become something closer to a private feeding station — a place dedicated entirely to his favorite employee.

Zillion.

Or rather… the massive, soft, mountain-sized otter that used to be Zillion.

He lay on his belly, which had long since grown too large to lift off the ground. The huge swell of it spread across the concrete floor like a living beanbag chair, rolls upon rolls stacked and pooling outward until he took up half the basement. His once-round thighs had puffed into enormous, beach-ball sized pillars of plush fat on either side of him, each bigger around than an industrial fryer.

And his rear, raised slightly because of how his belly flattened beneath him, had grown into a wobbling, rounded hill of otter softness. His tail had thickened enormously too, more like a padded ramp than a tail now, gently draped against his mountainside mass.

Zillion weighed… well, nobody knew exactly anymore.
But Croc estimated he was somewhere around a ton and still growing.

A huge automated feeding hose ran from the ceiling, connected to the basement’s grease tank and high-calorie sauce reserves. The tube rested gently in Zillion’s mouth. He held it with one pudgy hand, rubbing his belly lazily with the other, letting out deep, contented moans as the feeder hummed.

Glorp… glooorp… gluuurk…

Each pump sent warm, rich, savory slurry into the otter, who shuddered happily every time. His chest — a pair of massive, overflowing mounds of soft fat — rose and fell gently with every blissful breath.

Croc lay nearby on his back, equally full, his belly even bigger than earlier that day — open shirt, tie discarded, chest heaving from his own overfeeding session. His gut sat high on his torso like a stuffed pumpkin, wobbling every time he chuckled.

He held his own pump tube, sipping from it between deep breaths, rubbing his round tailbase.

“I knew you’d make an amazing assistant, Zillion,” Croc said, grinning at the massive otter-mound beside him. “But you’re even better as a full-time food tank.”

Zillion’s ears twitched happily above the horizon of his belly.

“Mmmf… f-fuuu… foood…” he muttered in a dreamy, blissed-out tone.

Croc laughed loudly, belly jiggling.

“That’s right. Just food. Don’t you worry, my otter butterball. I’m going to make you much bigger! HUGE!” He waved his arms up, nearly tipping from the wobble of his own gut.
“Bigger than our fryers! Bigger than the kitchen! Biggest mascot this restaurant has ever had!”

Zillion purred so loudly the whole basement vibrated. He didn’t care about anything else anymore — not uniforms, not shifts, not the world upstairs. His thoughts were soft and warm and simple:

More food.
More growing.
More stuffing.
More being Croc’s favorite employee.

He hugged the feeder hose closer, his massive body rising and falling like a soft, breathing hill.

Croc patted the side of Zillion’s immense belly, which jostled like a slow wave.

“Good boy. Keep growing,” he said proudly.
“We’ve got a lot more food to get through tonight.”

And with the pumps humming and the basement warm and quiet, Zillion happily drifted deeper into bliss — growing larger by the minute under his boss’s watchful, satisfied eye.

---

After the feeding session.
Croc let out a low, pained groan, one claw bracing under his stuffed gut. He really shouldn’t have joined the employees in their “protocol meals”… that was supposed to be their burden, not his. His belly sloshed in protest, rounding heavier than he’d ever let it get.

“Never again,” he muttered—though the thick gurgle from his stomach made that promise sound weak.
Rubbing the curve of his overfed middle, he flipped up his clipboard. A new assignment blinked back at him: a bunny taste-tester. Just great.

Croc huffed, waddling toward his company car and struggling to squeeze his swollen belly behind the wheel. If he kept this up—if that bunny fed him even half as hard as the others—he’d end up on the receiving end of the program himself.
He swallowed nervously.

“Yeah… I really gotta lose weight…”
But his gut only churned louder, like it already knew the truth.

To be continued…