Hungry Hungry Guilmon pt 3

“Hurry up, ya big lug. I’d like ta go home and get ta bed as quick as possible.”

“Ulp, ulp, you…got…it, ulp, ulp, Impmon.”

Within the vacant interior of an ice cream factory, Impmon and Guilmon worked on yet another sabotage job. True to his word, it took two weeks for Impmon to set up a job of this scale. A gang of Gazimon had hired them to dispose of a rival ice cream chain’s shipment, clearing out multiple pallets worth of ice cream barrels, all shipped to four individual vans . While Guilmon glutted a heap of ice cream, Impmon shoveled rocks from the bed of his truck into the empty barrels. 

“Come on, come on,” said Impmon, “I’m freezing my tail off. Put that gullet of yours to work.” 

Guilmon blithely guzzled down two ice cream barrels at a time, warming them up with his firebreath just enough for the ice cream to flow like silky smooth butter. In actuality, the two were making great timing, with Guilmon gorging through barrels far faster than Impmon could fill them. The blubbery dino’s belly swelled out onto the floor, burbling with already twenty barrels worth of assorted ice cream flavors. Impmon certainly delivered on his promise to work Guilmon’s stomach hard, and the dino couldn’t have been happier. 

After his feast at Carnival Row, Guilmon’s appetite took an even greater leap in gluttony. In the past two weeks, he snuck out more often for further eating, no longer content with the extra food Impmon fed him. Each night he’d return, contently belching and groaning, hauling himself along with his swollen limbs. Growing fatter as a result, he stressed the threshold of Impmon’s truck, having to haul around his immense weight and the weight of the rock pile. Life was good being a hulking mass of digimon, and Guilmon was eager to see just how much fatter he’d get after tonight’s job. 

Finishing his last two barrels, Guilmon allowed them to roll down the slope of his monstrous gut. The huge digimon stood upright, looking down at his blubbery visage and admiring his gains. His lush arms squished against the sides of his robust chest as he brought them closer together. His claws squeezed and fondled the soft ocean of white lard that was his belly, jostling it about. The sounds of sloshing ice cream delightfully twitched his ears. The feeling of his abundant rolls throughout his sides, back, and neck caused him to huff with flustered bliss. 

He blushed at the pleasure his immense girth provided, and with still room in his belly yet to be filled, the dino scoured the rest of the loading area for more gluttony. “What about, hic, those other barrels, Impmon? Can I, uuurp, eat them too?”

“Don’t you dare. I mean it. Our job was just ta deal with the shipments for these four vans, that’s it.”

Guilmon clutched at his gut, feeling it grumble for more sweets. “What about just one barrel?”

“Am I speaking ta myself here? The answer is no. Everything else in this room is off limits. Just…go take a nap or somethin’ while I finish up here.” 

As Impmon shoveled away, Guilmon scanned the room for a comfortable place to rest. Frowning and unsatisfied with his meal, the other pallets loaded with barrels in the room vexed him; his belly would have been more than sufficiently swollen if he were able to eat them all. Looking over the forbidden feast, his gaze panned over to a double wide door in the back of the room. His head perked up with intrigue; he hadn’t thought about what sweets lay within the rest of the factory. With Impmon busy and dozens of barrels yet to be filled, he could find something to snack on and be back just in time to leave. 

Guilmon shuffled his way forward, belly dragging along the ground while his haughty legs pushed against it. He looked back to Impmon, checking to see if he was watching him; thankfully, his small companion was absorbed in his work, and paid him no mind. At the foot of the double doors, Guilmon leaned forward to push them open. Pushing his way inside, his immense girth pooled all around him, pressing against the surrounding walls. The tight squeeze forced him to wiggle just to move a few inches forward, jiggling his thick waist, shaking his haunches, and swaying his meaty tail. 

He huffed and puffed down the boxed hallway, barely managing to pull himself along the walls with his claws. Halfway through, he stopped short of a door leading into a side room. Through the door windows, he saw dozens upon dozens of pallets all loaded with boxes, filling the room out from front to back. Tall metal racks on the left and right of the room also had their pallets with boxes stacked side by side, with four levels of racks each between them. 

The digimon’s curiosity peaked as his stomach blazed with hunger, despite the cool sweets he already ate. Struggling to turn his body right, he pushed open the doors, forcibly pushing himself through, like an overweight critter trying to emerge from its tiny burrow. He stopped with his hips and tail still occupying the hallway, his upper body looming over several pallets nearest to him. His claws tore through the plastic wrapping holding the boxes togethers, then the tape sealing one of the boxes themselves. The sight of dozens of boxes of ice cream sandwiches sent a cascade of drool pouring down his mouth. He licked his chops, tearing through his first box holding eight chunky sandwiches. 

“Impmon said, hic, not to eat anything in that other room, but he didn’t say anything about this one.” 

His belly blorped in agreement, praising his cleverness and finding more to gorge on. He quickly bit through four sandwich wrappers at once, tossing the sweets straight into his open maw. He swallowed them all with ease, murmuring at the feel of the chocolate breading and block of vanilla ice cream creeping down his throat. Doing the same with the other four, he tossed away the box and opened a new one. With an entire room of packaged sweets for his gluttonous pleasure, he’d have to eat it all quickly before Impmon noticed his absence. 

Gobbling up four at a time, he burned through his first boxed shipment of ice cream sandwiches in over a minute, with still many left to go on the pallet. It didn’t take long for him to slip back into his gluttonous rhythm, cycling between grabbing food, tossing them in his mouth, and swallowing as if he were a veteran worker at an assembly line. Four sandwiches became five, then six, then all eight from a single box. The stacks of boxes on the pallet grew smaller by the minute, until nothing but the wooden pallet remained.

A garbage bin’s worth of empty boxes and plastic wrappers surrounded Guilmon on both sides of him, crinkling and folding under the weight of his widened waistline. Gorging his way through hundreds of ice cream sandwiches, he huffed with contentment, feeling it add a significant weight to his stomach. His tail happily swayed from within the cramped hallway behind him as he gave his gut a hearty squeeze. He licked his chops of any crumbs of chocolate bread; a cold belch left his throat, and with it, a lingering taste of vanilla.

“Mmmff, that filled me up, hic, so good.” Guilmon rubbed at the front of his gut, leaning further on top of it as it pooled around him. “Mmm, so many boxes, orp, to eat still. Oooh, Impmon was right, hic, I’m gunna get, hmmph, so big.” 

His stomach squelched as he smacked it with both his arms. The shifting of his massive pool of gluttony inside him sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine. Everything from his bulging waist to the squished rolls on his back fervently wobbled, pressing against the doorway. Reaching out, he pulled over his next pallet, opening a box to reveal a trove of chocolate coated ice cream bars. Holding a bunch in both claws, he tore off the wrapping with his teeth, and ate every bar in one bite, leaving only a handful of popsicle sticks. 

Box after box, Guilmon would widen with each pallet he finished. The fat of his body pressed tighter against the doorway, wrapped over his thickening haunches like a tight belt. He was oblivious to the discomfort, too engrossed in his gorging to notice how his underbelly smothered the doors themselves. It wasn’t until finishing the pallets nearest to him that he was forced to pull the rest of himself through. With much struggle, and his tail pushing against the hallway wall behind him, he pushed himself through, falling flat on the floor with his belly lifting his legs slightly off the ground. 

Guilmon greedily glutted himself from pallet to pallet, eating a plethora of frozen treats from chocolate bananas, to parfaits and popsicles. The trash littering the room became buried under his bed of a belly, bobbing him up and down like a boat at sea. Its loud bubbling motivated him to pick up his gorging, with the strenuous effort to pull his body forward causing him to sloppily grin. The constant sloshing of his gorge was like a ballet in his stomach, giving him the utmost pleasure at feeling it wobble itself around. 

With the shipments of half the pallets on the floor consumed, Guilmon relished the sloshing-swollen blob he was becoming. The white of his belly took up a majority of his body, with the red of his back, tail, limbs, and head having a difficult time keeping in sight. His back legs now fully rested atop of his underbelly, while his thick tail only partially managed to still touch the floor. His claws would reach out in front of him so that he might pull himself along, stretching his upper body before the rest of his sloshing blubber would follow. 

Groaning due to his added weight, he’d moan at the feel of his lard laden body piling over him from its wobbling momentum. Each pull would jiggle his body forward and back, sending a wave of his own fat squishing against his front limbs and the back of his head. Blubber would pile onto the rolls at the back of his neck, squishing the back of his ears and pressing his neck fat against his chubby cheeks. As a result, he could better hear his gluttony sloshing inside him, growing him more flustered and eager to grow fatter. 

Unaware of how much time had passed, Guilmon assumed Impmon would come around at any second. Thankfully, all that appeared to be left were tubs of different flavored ice cream, which he guzzled down with great speed. Sundry trash remained as the last of the floor pallets were finished; crushed wood and flattened wrappers and cardboard boxes left the room looking like a veritable dumpster. The glorping monstrosity that was Guilmon moaned just to roll onto his back, resting up against the metal rack at the back of the room. With legs outspread and both arms resting atop of his titanic gut, his head barely managed to peek above it. The vast ocean of sloshing white fat spilled out before him, with his tail barely poking out from underneath. Hiccuping with great satisfaction, his body wobbled after giving his belly a series of loving pats. 

“Hic-hilp, so much belly,” Guilmon huskily sighed. “So big, hilp, and fat, and so heavy. Oooh, Impmon would be, hic-hilp, so proud, hmmf.”

With a brief moment to settle on his weight gain, the reality of Guilmon’s fullness weighed on him like a dump truck. Each hiccup caused him to slightly moan, feeling his bloated belly stretch out without any more room to stretch. The tidal wave of ice cream inside him buffeted the inside of his gut like waves crashing upon the side of a cliff. He was better than well fed, with a superior belly than that of previous binges to show for it; and yet, the tantalizing thought to continue overeating hadn’t left him. 

Looking up to the rack behind him, he still had the rest of the pallet shipments hanging on the racks around the room. His belly bellowed at the thought of more eating; whether in protest due to the strain or in greed at growing fatter, Guilmon didn’t know. His dino brain, however, continued to yearn for more sustenance. With some still readily available, why stop now? 

Guilmon made an attempt to roll onto his side so his front would face the rack behind him. As he rolled, his belly pressed against the wall to his right, along with pressing a button hanging from it. A garage door to his right suddenly began to open, with light from the adjacent room shining underneath. To Guilmon’s surprise, he laid eyes on the factory floor. Conveyor belts lined most of the center floor with a large machine which produced the different flavors of ice cream. But what really seized Guilmon’s attention, was the row of vats that lined the side of the room. 

The digimon looked on in bug eyed amazement before falling down on his front and dragging himself into the room. He beelined his way to one of the vats, licking his lips seeing it labeled as strawberry ice cream. On the side of the vat, he found a large hose attached to a spigot the size of a fire hydrant, and a lever right above it. He didn’t hesitate to put the hose in his mouth. Pulling the lever, the hose immediately swelled with the vats contents, gushing into Guilmon’s mouth, and filling out his gullet with sweet ice cream. 

He was taken aback by the initial rush, not expecting his throat to bloat with ice cream so quickly. It felt like swallowing a never ending stream of ice cream barrels he ate back in the garage, with the barrel included. He tilted his head back, making it more comfortable to swallow the large bulges passing down his neck. His chest puffed out, and the strain on his belly felt like a wrecking ball slamming against his insides with each gulp. Still, Guilmon became enamored by the sheer gluttonous bliss of the situation. 

His belly continued to surge all around him, now lifting his bulky tail off the floor and raising his backside above his head. His haunches, arms and face blimped up as the seconds passed, making the claws on his arms and feet and the winged ears on his head look tiny by comparison. His gut poured around him in a blob of white flesh. His gargantuan love handles sported side rolls the size of sofa cushions. Stretching wider than the vat itself, Guilmon’s lust for fat and feeding had put him in a drunken stupor. 

Along with the discomfort of gorging well beyond his limits, the digimon felt a sense of euphoria he had not previously known. His addled mind had trouble focusing on what he adored the most; the feeling of his fat squishing against his limbs and face; the swelling of his overburdened stomach; the richness of barrel sized globs of ice cream constantly filling his throat? It all felt utterly amazing. His dazed eyes looked up to the vat towering over him. Just how much ice cream had he consumed thus far; and how much more would he be capable of consuming, glutting down all of the other vats down the row, before he finally passed out?

Suddenly, the bulk of the hose deflated, and Guilmon took one final gulp of ice cream before his feeding finally stopped. He held the hose in his claw, wondering why the flow of ice cream had stopped so soon. Turning his head back to the lever, he was greeted by the fiery eyes of Impmon standing beside him. 

“What did I tell ya? What did I tell ya ya belly brained, no neck havin’, wobblin’ whale of a mon. Didn’t I tell ya, all the other food is off limits!”

“Oooouuurp, sorry, Impmon,” Guilmon sloppily grinned, so enamored and drunken in his hedonistic state, it was hard to take Impmon’s fury seriously. “I thought you, hic-hilp, meant, buuuraaap, the other room. Hic-hilp, not this one.” 

“Not this-not this one-are ya serious? You think this is funny, do I make you laugh? You know how much trouble we can get into? The mons who work here are gunna notice all their missing product and call the authorities! All because ya can’t stop eating every stinkin’ thing you can get your claws on! You’re gunna get us caught ya big-ya big…dumb-gah-Bada-Boom!”

Igniting a fireball on his index finger, Impmon shot it in rage at Guilmon’s side. The impact caused his belly to jiggle about, swaying like a white wall of jello to the sound of tar like squelching. Guilmon barely felt Impmon’s attack, which hardly left a speck of ash on him. The pleasure he received from his body’s shaking drew more of his attention. To him, Impmon had practically given his gut a congratulatory smack. 

“Ooogh, hic-hilp, so…full.” 

Impmon gritted his teeth, then took a deep breath to calm himself. “Look at ya, so fat my bada-boom just bounces off ya, and ya like it too,” Impmon sighed through his nose, “what am I gunna do with ya, kid? You’re gettin’ ta be more trouble than you’re worth. Come on, we gotta get outta here before the morning shift comes. Come on, let's go ya big lardo.” 

Walking behind him, Impmon pushed from the back while Guilmon pulled himself along the ground. Stuffed and bloated beyond his own comprehension, Guilmon put in a lax amount of effort just to haul himself around. Meanwhile, Impmon struggled against a towering blob of belly fat, sinking into its deep sheet of blubber, and on occasion, having it sloshing on top of him, pinning him to the floor. His disgruntled complaints fell on deaf ears, with Guilmon’s being serenaded by a symphony of sloshing. 

At another nearby garage door, Impmon had already set up his truck to carry Guilmon. However, the dino digimon had grown twice as wide as the truck bed, with his belly alone weighing far more than the truck itself. Rivaling the size of a semi, Guilmon attempted to crawl up the bed. The suspension loudly groaned as his belly poured over the sides, completely enveloping the bed and reaching down to the truck’s tires. Upon hearing the racket, Impmon shouted for Guilmon to stop, but it was too late. The suspension broke, the back tires flattened, and the bed itself slammed onto the floor. 

Impmon was livid at the destruction of his favorite vehicle, while Guilmon simply sloppily grinned, too dazed by his need to lie down and the pleasure of his gluttony sloshing against his innards from the fall. They continued their tiresome ordeal toward the warehouse across the street, which was completely abandoned. Once safely inside, Guilmon comfortably rolled onto his back, while Impmon produced a cell phone from underneath his neck bandana. 

“I gotta call a buddy of mine to tow my truck outta there. Stay here for the time being, and I mean it this time! You so much as roll your way to the nearest window, it’s nothin’ but spinach and broccoli for you for the next few months. Got that?”

“Hooouurp!”

Guilmon needed no second bidding, having grown too full and tired to even move from where he laid. His muffled hiccups caused his monolithic belly to sway forward and back, sloshing over his chunky legs and tail before rolling onto his face and smothering his muzzle. His arms pushed against his tsunami of gut with futile effort, feeling his gorge churning around inside him. His ears twitched at the cacophony of blorping, while the fat around his neck continued to squish his ears and cheeks. 

As sleep gradually took him, Guilmon basked in the joys of being a mountain of soft blubber. Having grown so fat he could hardly caress his own love handles or reach the front of his belly. Growing so heavy even Impmon’s truck was no match for his weight. His stomach swollen to such ample proportions, he could continue overeating well beyond his peak of fullness. His gluttonous future seemed quite bright in his eyes. Impmon’s constant warnings might as well be static on a radio. With Guilmon’s stomach ruling his heart, no amount of danger would potentially dissuade him from gorging himself into absolute blobdom.