Bunnyburrow Blueberry Festival (The Return).

It took two weeks of digestion before the Z.P.D. could finally push Nick out of the cafeteria doors and into the parking lot. Two weeks of resuming work as usual, having their meals, but with a hulking, glorping, wobbling mound of a fox taking up a quarter of the dining area. Despite still feeling well overglutted and overgorged throughout that time, Nick pleaded for more food from his fellow officers, who were all under strict orders by chief Bogo not to so much as toss him a single pea. 

The chief was glad to be rid of Wilde, loading him onto a truck and sending him home. Nick spent the remainder of his digestion in the backyard of his and Judy’s new home. Once he was mobile again, he had become taller than a bus, and half as wide. His belly dragged along the floor, stretching out several feet in front of him, capable of pouring over an average sized vehicle. He huffed with utter delight at its enormity, and that of his arms, legs, and wide rear, finding it incredibly difficult to keep his paws off his own body. More than all of his other post gorging digestions, it felt like a dream to lug around this much fat while technically on an empty stomach. 

Unable to fit through the doorway of any building, Nick was no longer able to take his place behind the Z.P.D. desk; his entire rear would have taken up the back of the desk anyhow. Instead, he was given his laptop and headset and forced to work from home, which the fat fox couldn’t have been happier with. From the comfort under his canopy and laying on a thick collection of blankets and pillows, he took calls and dispatched officers where they were needed, all the while stuffing his face with all the snacks he wanted and completely in the fur. 

It was a decadent existence, getting paid while lounging around, cramming chips and donuts in your maw, and giving your heaps of blubber all the gropes and smacks you could want. When Judy wasn’t around to appease him with more snacks, Nick would simply call for food to be delivered to him. Empty wrappers, bags, and boxes would be littered around him. His belly could be heard burbling through his headset, along with his incessant munching. By the end of the first work week, ten garbage bins were completely loaded up with trash for the city to pick up. Life was good, and was only about to get better. 

It had been a year since the first Bunnyburrow Blueberry Festival, and during this past month, Nick has thought of nothing else. Each day closer to its arrival had been torturous, like a donut hanging from a string just outside of his reach. Curiously, however, every time he would bring it up to Judy, the rabbit wouldn’t seem too excited and quickly tried changing the subject. Since buying the house even, she’s seemed a little more reluctant over buying him too many snacks, or having a third dinner, namely for him. But Nick didn’t think too much about it; his mind was more occupied thinking of the plethora of blueberry goodies that would fill his vast cavern of a stomach. 

On the day of the festival, Nick woke early just before Judy went in for work. Rolling himself on his frontside, he heaved himself up to a standing position, groaning from the exertion of actually having to use his legs. He did her a favor by gathering up his own trash, throwing it all into the bins and catching Judy as she exited the back of the house. She looked surprised to see him up and about so early, and quickly walked around the house toward the driveway. Nick’s titanic gut, still filled with loads of undigested snacks, glorped as he trundled to catch her. 

“Carrots! Huff, wait up.” 

“Sorry, Nick,” Judy didn’t so much as turn her head, “I don’t want to catch any traffic on the way.”

“Just a, uff, second. Hold on, oof, will ya?”

As he rushed toward her, his belly shoved against the line of garbage bins, knocking over a couple at the end. Judy scoffed in frustration, picking up the spilt trash. “Come on, Nick. I don’t have time for this.” 

“Sure you do. You’re the first one through the door at the Z.P.D, huff, and the last one out. I know you got a short day, so I’m just making sure what time you think you’ll be back so we can head to the Blueberry Festival. I’m still holding off on buying new pants, but I got a shirt I can kinda wear. I mean, nobody would mind me being pantless right? They’ll all be too busy bringing me food like last year, more even. You told them all about my gaining, didn’t you? Hehe, oh yeah, can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when they get a load of me this year.”

Nick gave his belly a hearty smack. Then, his grin faded when seeing Judy’s reluctant expression.

“Nick,” said the rabbit, “we’re not…going to the Blueberry Festival this year.”

The fox shook his head, bringing a digit up to his ear and cleaning it of wax. “Sorry, I didn’t think I heard that right.” 

 “I said, we’re not going. Not this year, and frankly…not any other year.” 

A brief silence passed between the two, with Nick’s stomach uproariously grumbling. He chuckled at first, waiting for Judy to laugh back and revealing it all to be one big joke. But her eyes were as stern as a scolding mother’s. Taken aback, Nick clutched at his chest. The sudden betrayal stabbed at him like a blunt dagger. 

“Y-you’re serious? I’ve been looking forward to today for a whole month. I thought we both were. What do you mean we aren’t going?”

“Because, Nick. Just…look at yourself.”

He did just that, patting his sides and giving himself a wobble. “What about it? I look amazing.” 

“No, Nick. You’re growing way too big. I admit, last year was a lot of fun, and in the weeks after, I kinda liked what a butterball you were becoming. Even when you took up half the living room at our old apartment, it was exciting to see how fat you were. But I thought it wouldn’t be long before you slowed down and just settled on a size. But you just keep getting fatter.” 

“Hey, you know better than anyone. I’m naturally a heavy eater. I take untold pleasure and satisfaction from every feast I have. Don’t forget, you’re partly to blame for how I got into overeating in the first place.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I helped you take it too far. Now you’ve outgrown our house, and I know if I take you to the festival, you will only get worse. We have to get your gluttony under control Nick, before it gets too out of hand. We’ll talk about it more when I get back. I’ll bring back some dinner and…maybe we can enjoy ourselves without the festival, okay?”

Judy walked up to the grumpy fox. He could barely feel her tiny paw giving his white wall of a belly a few pats. 

“Please don’t be mad, Nick. I just…want to help. Even if you won’t help yourself.” 

Nick turned his head away, hiding within his thick neck rolls. He barely managed to cross his arms due to his plush chest taking so much space. Standing there alone, he pondered over Judy’s words as she drove off for work. He had known nothing but the intoxicating sensation of gluttony and gaining these past several months, with each milestone bringing another euphoric sensation that shook his previous perceptions of true hedonism. But perhaps, some part of what she said was true. He had outgrown their vehicles, their apartment, and now their home; even the Z.P.D. was now inaccessible, meaning he’d see all his friends less often. How long has it been since he and Judy last patrolled together, or watched a movie in the same room? How long since they shared a bedroom, or ate a normal meal at a restaurant? He hadn’t thought of any of this for a long while, which suddenly began to worry him. 

As if sensing his melancholy, the fox’s stomach gave an uproarious grumble, causing his fur coated blubber to slightly tremble. Returning his attention to his immense bulk, he placed his paws over his gut, kneading his digits deep into its soft flesh. He murmured with bliss at feeling the horde of snacks he ate churning around from his touch. Enamored by his lard, thoughts of further filling his belly with blueberry pies, waffles, pancakes, and other treats, caused him to drool from the corners of his mouth. He needed to engorge himself, he wanted to grow even fatter. He enjoyed it far too much to stop now at the peak of his weight.

“Help myself huh,” said the fox, “oh I’ll help myself, alright. I’ll help myself to every crumb and cake that fair has to offer.”

Nick’s stomach gurgled in agreement. Lifting what he could of it, he waddled himself around and walked back toward his canopy. He groaned as he purposely collapsed stomach first onto his bed sheets, pulling over his laptop and tapping on the keyboard. His chest began to beat more rapidly upon making a call, holding his headset up to his ear. The suspense of each ring caused a trickle of sweat to form on his brown. Upon hearing the dial tone cut off and a familiar grouchy voice in his ear, Nick heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Oh, thank goodness,” the fox huffed, “it’s me, Nick. Hey, I know we haven’t talked in what feels like a long time, but I got a proposition I think you might be interested in. All we got to do…is go for a little drive…”

    * 

Nick waited near the front driveway with anxious anticipation. His contact took longer than expected to procure a ride capable of handling his immense weight, all the while he worried his contact would just quit the job, feeling it wasn’t worth the hassle. Thankfully, a large heavy duty truck entered the neighborhood, backing onto Nick’s driveway with the tailgate already laid down. Nick sat himself upon his chariot, laying on his back while his fat poured over the edges of the bed and caused the entire framework of the truck to groan. Everything all managed to hold together, and with a slow start at first, the two took to the highway. 

It pleased Nick to see the distant mountains and vast farmlands of Bunnyburrow once more. He leaned closer to the driver side window, patting his gut in anticipation of the feast. “You’re a lifesaver, Finnick. You took a little longer than expected, but I’m glad you pulled through.” 

“It wasn’t easy finding something big enough to carry you,” said the fennec fox, “so you better make good on your part of the deal.” 

“Of course. As soon as we get back, all those unpaid tickets of yours will be a thing of the past.” 

“Yeah, they better. Still, don’t know why you need me to bring you to this place. Couldn’t you come with one of your cop friends or that bunny of yours or something?” 

“Nah, they’re all on duty right now, and I couldn’t stand to wait around. I just had to get here as soon as possible.”

“Shoot, wiping tickets off my record for some taxi ride? This better be some fair for you to take that kinda risk.” 

“Oh, believe me, Finnick. It is.” 

After further driving, the flags and tents of the festival soon came into view, along with the decadent-mouth watering aromas that captured Nick’s interest the first time he came here. As the truck parked into the dirt lot, Nick could hardly contain his excitement, grunting and groaning just to push himself out of the truck bed. Finnick grimaced while watching him, repulsed by the whale of white and orange fur jostling around. He also worried about the truck’s condition, hearing its metalwork creak as it rocked back and forth like a cradle; were it damaged in any way, the animals he borrowed it from would be none too happy. 

Turning just enough, the fox rolled himself off the truck, collapsing to the dirt with a squelch. Finnick kept a safe distance from him, barely able to see the fox’s head past his chest, neck rolls, and monolithic belly. 

“Dang, Nick. I didn’t get a good look at you when I picked you up, but…jeez. How the heck you get so fat?”

“Uff, through effort, hnng, and hard work…my friend.” Nick stood himself upright, his belly pouring out in front of him as he let out a relaxed sigh. “It took a whole lot of eating to build up this stomach, and it all pays off today.”

Sniffing the air, the fox melted into his neck fat, euphoric from the multitude of delicious smells. Slightly leaning forward, he slowly trundled toward the front of the fair. Animals in attendance all gasped at the sight of the humongous fox, clearing a path for him till he and Finnick reached the front of the line. Once the fennec fox paid the entry fee, he returned to the truck, driving off and leaving Nick to enjoy himself.

The entryway was wide, but to Nick’s girth, it was as snug as any doorway. His burgeoning waist and hips squished against the wooden poles holding up the archway, while the festival sign forced him to duck underneath it. Wood cracked and the ticket kiosk began to buckle under the weight of his lard bulging hips, causing the sheep inside it to flee. When he was clear, he made his way into the fairgrounds toward his first food tent. The familiar smell of blueberry pancakes beckoned to him, and this time, he would have more than his fill of them.

On his way to his first meal, Nick grinned from all the attention he brought to himself. Animals whispered his name to one another, commenting on his colossal size and comparing it to last year. He licked his drooling chops at the sight of the familiar red tent; the animals queued up in a line quickly dispersed as he approached, revealing the, “Molly’s Pancakes,” banner over a red and white checkered table cover. To Nick’s delight, the chubby rabbit and her husband now had hired help compared to last year, with a few more stoves and pushing out more plates of delicious blueberry pancakes for the public. 

Molly looked overjoyed to see him, running up to her table and standing on the tips of her footpaws. “Golly, is that who I think it is, Judy’s friend, Nick?”

Nick laid down on his belly, just enough to reach head level with her. “That’s right. Back another year to enjoy the best pancakes in the tri burrows area. Good to see you, Molly.” 

“Likewise,” Molly fanned herself with a paw, “well I’ll be darned, aren’t you just the biggest pumpkin in the patch. Helped yourself to a heck of a lot more than my pancakes, hasn’t he bob?”

Her husband sheepishly nodded, wearing the same shocked expression as the other cooks under the tent. Nick gave the side of his belly a heavy smack. “Oh yeah, it’s been a very, huff, good year. And it’s all thanks to Judy bringing me here.” 

“Bless that little bunny. Is she here with you? She hadn’t called us, so we weren’t sure if yall were coming or not.”

“Nah, work’s been rough for her. She needed her rest. But I wouldn’t miss coming back here for anything.”

“Well, you couldn’t have come at a better time.” Molly winked, pulling out a pamphlet from her apron and showing Nick a few of the events the festival had planned for the day. “We got a couple new things added this year, more eating contests, giant fruit competitions, food judging, more vendors, and a huge surprise later from some of the best pastry chefs around. Seems some of us kinda hoped you would come again and prepared for it.” Nick’s belly grumbled up a storm. “Oh my, there I go rambling again while you’re laying there starving. Here you are honey, on the house as always.” 

Reaching behind her, Molly grabbed a plate in each paw stacked with four large blueberry pancakes each, both dripping with syrup and topped with butter, whipped cream, and a cherry. The fox’s eyes bulged wide open, tongue slinking out of his mouth as he greedily reached for them. Molly squealed at how suddenly Nick grabbed each plate, his maw opening wide between his flabby cheeks. In a flash, he tilted both plates toward his mouth, receiving all eight pancakes at once and devouring them in a single gulp. He licked what syrup splotched his cheeks and chins, handing back the plates while smirking and licking his teeth. 

“Mmff, got any more?”

“Sweet cheese and crackers,” Molly gasped, her lips forming a timid smile. “Now I see how you got so big. Bob, heat up those stove tops, we got us a real hungry customer.” 

Bob and the other animals shared worried looks with one another before getting back to work. Soon, plates loaded with even taller stacks of blueberry pancakes made their way to the front. Molly helped with topping off each plate with the fixings of syrup, butter, whipped cream, and cherries, delivering them to Nick like a busy waitress in a packed diner. Other hungry animals were also lured by the rich smell of breakfast, but at the sight of Nick gulping food down and the roaring of his gut, they immediately backed off to the other food vendors. 

Finally getting his feast underway, Nick became fully immersed in his ravenous gluttony. His half shut eyes swooned from plate after plate of fattening, syrupy, fluffy stacks of eight pancakes. His cheeks rounded out larger than the midsections of the animals serving him, until he was forced to gulp down dozens of pancakes at once. As he craned his head back to swallow, it squished against the neck fat behind him. His robust chest popped off one of the buttons of his tight shirt, which continued to ride up toward his neck rolls. His paws patted the sides of his gut, happy to feel more food churning around with all his snacks from earlier. With the space in his stomach slowly starting to fill up, Nick moaned with pleasure at the thought of feeling absolutely stuffed; only then, will the real carousing take place.

Never having dealt with one so gluttonous, the rabbits scrambled to feed Nick as quickly as possible. Frantically, the cooks assembled their pancakes in a varying degree of sizes, with some so large they took up the whole plate. They poured large sacks of blueberries into a stirring pot to mix with the batter, along with other foods like chocolate chips, strawberries, and banana slices. Molly splatted them all with thicker chunks of butter, as well as dumping heaps of cherries, all just to serve them immediately and make room. 

The additional fattening contents made Nick’s belly blorp with delight. Pooling around him, it continued pressing against his legs, his footpaws raising further off the ground by the minute. His bounce house of a backside shaded his back from the sun. His widening hips were stacked with added folds, resembling the very pancakes he was gobbling down. Another set of rolls formed above his waist, jiggling with the former set and his wobbling love handles. The short sleeves of his shirt tore from his fattening arms. His fat face squished against his eyes and ears, with enlarging cheeks capable of stuffing even more pancakes before swallowing. 

A small crowd soon gathered to watch Nick glut himself with abandon, like he were some performing part of the festival. Those who were brave enough brought their own food for him from the other tents, placing them on his table just as he reached for another plate. The constant state of feeling his throat packed, his belly stretch, and his body wobbling after each mound of food, entering like a boulder tumbling downhill, left him in sheer bliss. He had hoped the other festival attendees would help with his fattening, same as last year. Only now, it became yet another activity for everyone and himself to enjoy.  

When the blueberries and toppings ran out, and the large mix bowl was completely empty of batter, the final plate of pancakes was served at last. Gulping them down and licking the plate of remaining sustenance, Nick let loose a husky belch, sloppily grinning through stained cheeks. He moaned at the sea of breakfast sloshing inside him, his belly lifting his footpaws off the ground. Filled with enough pancakes to feed many months worth of customers at a roadside diner, the fox’s belly strained from fullness. 

“Ooogh, what a, buuuraaap, meal,” the fox rubbed at the sides of his amorphous gut, “that was, mmm, everything I had hoped for. Thanks a lot, Molly. You sure know, oooorp, how to fatten up a fox, hehe.” 

“Glad…we can…help, sugar.” 

Molly and the other animals either leaned on furniture or sat where they were, tired and beaten feeding one customer as if doing a full day’s work of food service. Puffing out his chest, Nick popped off the final buttons of his shirt before leaning forward, reaching down to the floor. With what muscle remained in his barrel sized arms, he dragged himself along to the very next food tent; his jello-like body sloshing front to back helped push him along as well. His love handles and globular rear swayed from left to right atop of his bed of a belly, but he still managed to keep himself from rolling onto one side. 

From one food tent to another, Nick paved his gluttonous path down the midway. Knowing who Nick was, the vendors all provided him with free food, both out of reverence and flattered by how he enjoyed their cooking. Buckets of cheese fries, onion rings, and fried zucchini drenched in ranch slithered down his gullet. A farmers market's worth of succulent fruits forcibly stretched his stomach even larger. Corn dogs, hot dogs, and plant sausage links dripping in mustard could be seen protruding from his full mouth before gulping it all down while wincing. His throat was working double time, and his overglutted belly released a grotesque blorp with every mouthful.

He ate until each tent was completely picked clean of food, leaving nothing but exhausted cooks and dirty dishes. Along the way, animals brought him heaps of other food for him to judge, between best desserts, juiciest fruits, and the best deep fried delicacy; the samples they provided however were never enough for him to give a solid opinion, forcing the contendants to provide him with more. For the food size judging contests, he judged each by how well they managed to fill his gullet, swallowing tomatoes as big as golf carts, and eclairs as large as couches. Afterwards, he would return to cleaning out vendors, who prepared themselves with a host of premade food before he arrived.  

The festival was utter bliss, far exceeding the fox’s ravenous expectations. He reveled in the guilty pleasure of feeling his belly strain from fullness. The act of continuing to gorge beyond the point of bursting made him huff with flustered breath in between meals. He muffled pleasured murmuring as his growing bulk swelled with thicker coats of lard, jiggling and folding over one another in a synchronized dance of fat. He loved feeling his butt burying his thighs, his shirt tearing to pieces, his arms brushing against his chest and cheeks barely able to guide food into his mouth. Everything served to fatten him into the fox he was meant to be. 

By the time Nick reached the end of the midway, he had blobbed up enough to fill the entire row. Wider than two buses driving side by side, his pooling belly drew dangerously close to both rows of tents on either side of him. He moaned with decadent triumph, doozy and content after leaving a wake of tired beasts, empty plates, and dozens of filled trash cans behind him. All the while, the crowd clapped and cheered him on, with some taking photos or walking up to give his buttery lard a friendly pat. 

“Hilp, mmmfff, cheese and crackers,” Nick sighed, his face sandwiched between of stained blubbery cheeks, “I love, hilp, this place.” 

Basking in his pleasure, the fox’s dazed eyes noticed animals gathering in the clearing ahead of him, taking their seats around the grandstand at the center. “Hmmmff, well, hilp, well. That could only mean, uuuraaap, one thing. Lets, hnnng, win some, huuuufff, contests.” 

Nick hauled himself toward the grandstand, clearing away the other animals sitting around it. Talking to the awestruck organizer on stage, he confirmed a blueberry pie eating contest was indeed underway. Unable to get on the stage itself, Nick circled behind it, pulling himself onto the stage only up to his chest; his robust bosom was more than suitable to act as his table. The contestants were larger and bulkier than last year’s, but it didn’t matter; with apprehension written across their faces, they knew all of their appetites combined couldn’t hold a candle to their mountainous opponent’s.

Three pickup trucks drove up to the stand, each packed full with boxes containing stacks of pies. The contest assistants then brought over the first set of pies for the competitors, and the contest was underway. While the competition quickly guzzled their pies with the skill of true competitive eaters, Nick channeled his true hog, sifting his muzzle throughout each pie and devouring them all in only a few bites. By the time they finished their first pies, Nick had already finished three, growing his lead more the further they ate. 

The contest assistants scrambled to deliver new pies to the gluttonous fox, with even members of the crowd joining in to relay more boxes onto the stage. Nick rolled his eyes with hedonistic pleasure, feeling the sludge-like stream of blueberry filling and crust trickling down his throat and pressuring his overburdened gut further. The scrumptious blueberry flavor never grew dull, even after his thirtieth pie. As his blubbery rolls and abundant flab continued to squish and bunch up around him, all he thought about was how much he wanted more. 

With difficulty, his bulky arms had grown so fat he could now only bring food up to his face by the tip of his digits. Fortunately, his chest had also blossomed in size, bringing the pies placed on them a bit closer to his mouth. Bunching the pies together, he stretched out his muzzle, sifting through each of them and dropping the empty tins onto the wooden floor. Growing wider, his waist spilled its way toward the competitor nearest to him, forcing them to scoot away. With more of his lard pouring itself onto the stand, its wood work began to creak under its weight. 

The contest finished when the last pie was consumed, with Nick enjoying the lion’s share of the feast. The contestants stood from their seats with a huff, carrying bloated guts peeking out from under their clothes; though they were well stuffed, each of them still had room for more, had Nick not eaten everything else. It took both of the organizer’s arms just to lift Nick’s arm in triumph. While the crowd clapped and cheered, Nick licked his face of remaining blueberry filling, looking around for his next meal. 

“We have our winner everyone,” said the organizer, “two years in a row, and still reigning champion.” 

“Say, oouuurp, when does the next contest start?”

The pig lowered Nick’s arm, “Oh…uh, whenever the sponsors are ready to provide the food I suppose. The ice cream sundae contest starts about twenty minutes from now.” 

“Well, mmff, I’m here now, so why wait? Bring them, urp, down here, in fact, bworp, bring all the sponsors down here. I’m ready to crack out, uff, all the contests, hic, one after the other.”

“Are…are you sure, Mr. Wilde,” the pig grimaced at the fox’s vociferously churning gut. “You’ve eaten close to one hundred pies.”

Nick squished the side of his belly rolls, giving himself a proud jiggle. “Don’t you worry about my, buuuraaap, stomach. Oof, it can handle, hnnf, anything.”

The pig nodded, heading down from the stage and leaving the fox to his intoxicated self admiration. Reveling in his abundant blubber helped to pass the time until the next set of trucks came by along with a new group of contestants. Having played with fat a bit much, his arms hung down at his sides, heavy and tired. The contest assistants obliged to bring the ice cream sundaes up to his mouth, reluctant as they were. 

Another contest began, with Nick guzzling down heaps of ice cream, chocolate, bananas, and cherries all with only his mouth. Trying to keep up with the fox, a couple of the other contestants suffered from brain freeze, giving him even more time to glut down extra sundaes before they had a chance to eat more. Ten assistants stood ready to serve Nick his next Sundae, while only one was able to serve the other three contestants on stage. The contest hardly lasted, with the other competitors simply giving up halfway through. 

When the ice desserts were done, Nick asked the next contest to begin right after. Corn dog contests, funnel cake contests, fried corn contests, and donut burger contests all took place one after the other. With Nick’s widening mass taking up more and more of the stage, contestants were forced to eat on the ground level, until nobody joined to compete altogether. Thankfully, the sponsors willfully allowed Nick to gorge himself on everything, not wanting the food to go to waste. The fox all the while couldn’t have been happier, having the assistants continue to pour food into his maw as he felt himself growing into an evermore massive blob. 

Lost in a gluttonous stupor, Nick sloppily grinned through constantly full cheeks, feeling explosions of churning and glorping within his gut as a lake of indigested gorge sifted around inside him. He could feel its incredible weight rubbing against his innards, giving him a most pleasant inner massage that made him muffle a series of satisfied moans. The dozens of rolls along his back massaged him all the way up to the neck rolls squishing the back of his head, as if kneaded by the soft-broad paws of a dozen lions. His rear eclipsed the entire stage in shade, swaying atop of his monstrous belly and completely enveloping his thighs and footpaws. He was required to stretch out his head just to eat, with his cheeks, neck rolls, and corpulent arms all squeezing him together. 

By the time Nick ate his last meal, his chest and part of his behemoth of a belly, filled out the entire stage. Moaning and slamming his arms down on his fat, the woodwork of the stage finally snapped. The crowd quickly backed off as the stage collapsed, buried under a mountain of fur. Thunderous sloshing bellowed throughout the festival grounds, coupled with Nick’s groans and excessive hiccups. His body violently shook in all directions, becoming more liquid-like in consistency with an avalanche of flab constantly folding and unfolding over his head. 

“Oooogh, this feels, hic-hilp, heavenly.” The fox squished and rubbed at his bulk, his cheeks flushed red as he steamily huffed for breath. “Mmmmffff, so much, hic-hilp, wonderful lard. Hmmff, all of it, huff, jiggling around me. Oooff, I want more. Need, hic-hilp, more…”

Squinting his eyes while his cheeks partially squished against them, Nick surveyed the festival grounds from the height of his belly. Unable to find the white tent from which they kept the raffle prize last year, he pointed to the contest organizer, who with his assistants, cleared the area of chairs and debri. 

“You,” called Nick, “where’s the raffle, hic-hilp, taking place this year?” 

The pig nervously tipped his hat. “Oh, uh, begging your pardon, Mr. Wilde. There isn’t any raffle this year.” 

“Why not,” the fox scowled. 

“Well…you see…we all decided as a community to give you the raffle prize this year by default. And-uh-rather than have it be just another large funnel cake, all the top bakers of the Tri Burrows area decided to make something real special. Oh, here it comes right now.”

Seeing the pig point behind him, Nick struggled to turn his body. His overabundance of blubber anchored him in place, making adjustments like pushing himself off of his own belly feel like climbing up a hill. Barely managing to reach the floor with his nearly enveloped paws, he pulled himself in a circle, groaning from the intense labor of dragging so much weight. When he made a full turn, his eyes lit up at the splendor he saw before him. Three trucks with wide flatbed trailers, they types used to transport entire houses, made their way toward him in reverse; their cargo, a two story tall pie, stretched just as wide as he was. 

Nick’s mouth dropped, tongue slinking out and saliva dripping down it. His eyes bulged wide with glee, pulsating with disbelief at this monstrosity of a dessert. Served directly to him, he wasted no time scaling his way up the giant aluminum tin, and collapsing his entire upper body inside. He became lost in an ocean of blueberry filling; his mouth opened as wide as it could, gulping down everything around him, as if trying to drink his way out from the bottom of a pool. Overglutted and overgorged many times over, the surge of filling caused him to wince in pain, but not without a sloppy grin plastered across his face. 

His body swelled with added blubber, reaching obscene heights that even began to unsettle the crowd. Incessant glorping and sloshing echoed throughout the festival, like a loud music concert capable of being heard from the highway. As the fox ate, his amorphous blob of a body widened to such lengths, it resembled a block of melting butter. The orange parts of his fur were vastly overwhelmed by his white belly and chest pooling all around him. Even with his arms and legs buried in fat, he resiliently snaked his way around the pie, glutting it across each and every corner until he made his way into the pie tin itself, crushing the flatbed trailers holding the pie up. 

It took a solid couple hours of relentless eating before Nick finished the entire house sized pie. He pleasurably moaned as the raging sea of glut and gorge inside him jostled his misshapen form. He could barely see beyond the fat burying his face; his muzzle being the only thing still not swallowed up by his fat. Hiccuping and belching, he fought to remain conscious, with each spasm and breath making him feel like he would burst at any moment. Still, the fox wouldn’t have had it any other way. Overglutted beyond his wildest dreams, he wallowed in his drunken stupor, until his loss of consciousness would eventually take him. 

“Oooouuuraaaap, guuuh, what a, hic-hilp, smorgasbord,” the fox groaned. He felt as if his gluttony built up toward the back of his throat. With his stomach being impossibly full, it was as if his feast had no place else to go. “Hnnnng, Uff, so, buuuraaap, full. Gunna, hic-hulp, burst. Ooooh, feels so, uuurp, good. So, ummmf, much, hic-hulp, fat!” 

As he savored the decadence of his blobdom, Nick felt the curious squishing of what felt like something climbing up his hillside of chins. Feeling them stop in front of his mouth, the flab covering his eyes was suddenly lifted. He squinted from the rush of light, blinking until the gray blur in front of him revealed itself as the scolding face of Judy Hopps. 

“Hulp, Carrots,” Nick spoke with a husky tone and sloppy grin. “You, orp, made it.” 

“I thought you would try to come here, but I didn’t think you would actually make it.”

Nick’s smile was barely visible past his swollen cheeks. “I have, hic-hilp, my ways.” 

“Shame on you, Nick! What have you done to yourself?”

“Oooh, hic-hilp, Judy, you should have seen, orp, the time I’ve been, umf, having. So much feasting, oof, and carousing. Everybody, hic-hilp, feeding me, helping me to grow, ooog, fatter, hnng, and fatter. This festival, hic-hilp, is a glutton’s paradise. I’m, oorp, so full. Could barely, mmmff, stay…awake.” 

“You’re out of control! You can’t see it, but you’re half the size of the ferris wheel! Anyone driving by can see you a mile away! This has to stop! You’re not going to make a buffet out of where I grew up when the next festival isn’t enough to feed you.” 

“Oooh...can’t…stop. Want, hic-hilp, more. Bigger, hnnng, fatter, bworp. Want…to eat, hmmff, every-thing…guuuh.” 

With one last exhale of breath, Nick finally passed into a food induced coma, shutting his eyes and slumping into his rolls of fat. Judy released his back flab, plopping it down onto his muzzle, leaving only his nose to poke out. Looking down below, she could see the various food tents being packed up and put away far too early, due to having nothing left to serve. She looked out to the miles of farmland in the distance and its abundance of crops, picturing it all as a barren wasteland, with a titan sized Nick gobbling up everything in sight. Whether his last words were spoken from a food drunken state or not, she couldn’t afford to take any chances. She was the bunny who got him to realize his gluttonous potential, and unleashed this ravenous fox out into the world. It is now up to her, to put a stop to it.