Hungry Hungry Guilmon pt 2

It was a busy day down by the race track. Digimon of all shapes and sizes flocked to witness the event, enjoying many overpriced snacks and concessions, leaving the rows of seats littered with sundry trash. Those who didn’t buy anything on the inside, instead enjoyed food outside from one of the many dozen food trucks parked along the outer edge of the parking lot. Vendors saw great business, especially as the crowds left the venue, hungry for something besides popcorn and nachos. Once the crowds were gone and night winded down, the vendors would shortly take their leave.

The last food truck in the parking lot belonged to a gabumon, who casually smoked a cigarette between his long claws. Right alongside him was Impmon, who parked his own truck alongside him while also enjoying a smoke, both of them waiting for Guilmon to finish eating the last of Gabumon’s food supplies. The glutton happily wolfed down warm trays of taco meat, minced veggies, shredded cheese, and any leftover taco shells, emptying the truck of all edibles.

Gabumon blew out a puff of smoke, nodding his head. “That boy of yours sure can put it away. If I had customers that ate like that I could open up my own restaurant.”

“Believe me,” said Impmon, “ya don’t want customers like this kid. Not unless you can keep ya restaurant locked up like a bank vault.”

“Really? He’s that much trouble, huh?”

“Eh, he can be. But he’s a good kid; kinda dopey, but good.”

As Guilmon devoured the last box of veggies, he looked around for anything he might have missed. Gabumon tossed his cigarette, stomping it out before pushing himself off Impmon’s truck. “Guess he’s done. Look at him, ate at least a day’s worth of supplies and still looking for more, heh.”

“Yeah, he’s a big lug. Thanks again for callin’ me up. As you can see, it ain’t easy feedin’ him.”

“It’s no problem. Beats paying a fee just to dump it all. Got to make space for the fresh supplies. Maybe I’ll call the two of you again next time, huh?”

“Yeah, sure thing. Take it easy, Phil.”

The taco truck’s suspension creaked as Guilmon stepped out from the back, stomach glorping as it hit the floor. Gabumon shut the back door and drove on his way. Guilmon hopped onto Impmon’s truck bed, sitting down and poking his head through the back window. His large chunky tail hung off the truck bed’s back door, dangling and swinging from left to right. As they drove out of the lot, Guilmon licked his chops of any lingering food. His stomach burbled with activity, still containing a plentiful amount of space to fill with further gluttony.

“Where are we going now, Impmon,” Guilmon looked to every place of business along the streets, anticipating them to drive up to some fast food place. “I promise I can still keep eating.”

“I know ya can, ya bottomless pit, but we’re going home. You’ll just have ta make due with what Phil fed you.”

“I like Phil,” Guilmon smiled, “I wish more digimon gave away their food for free.”

“He only gave it to ya for free because it was all expiring. Every week or so, all these restaurant owners and vendors have to restock themselves with fresh goods, and throw out all the expiring stuff.”

“Really, Impmon? They just throw everything away?”

“Yeah, you know, can’t anybody go around serving expired food. It’d get you sick.”

“Not me,” Guilmon shook his head, “I would be just fine.”

Impmon chuckled. “That’s because you’re a furnace with legs, and that stomach of yours can handle anything. It’s why I keep you around.”

Guilmon smiled from ear to ear, his tail swinging a little faster. “Still, I can’t believe they just throw everything away.”

“Oh yeah, anything that ain’t fresh and hasn’t sold gets thrown out. It happens all around the city, even especially at Carnival Row. You know, that street with the back to back restaurants? I’d imagine they got loads of junk they’re throwing out today. Must be a good payday for the garbage company. But hey, glad I got you, right? Don’t gotta throw anything out when I can just give it to ya, hehe.”

It hadn’t occurred to Guilmon until now why Impmon gave him several snacks and drinks from his own convenience store at the end of every week. It amazed him to learn how places could throw out a plethora of food he would otherwise be perfectly fine with eating. The thought of it caused his stomach to rumble. Despite finishing up all of Phil’s leftover supplies, it paled in comparison to some of the sabotage jobs they had. It pained him to pass by all these adjacent restaurants, but he knew no amount of pleading with Impmon would get him to change his mind.

They drove around the back of their convenience store, parking the truck in the back garage. Beside the truck were two large mattresses on the floor, which served as Guilmon’s own bed. He turned in for the night while Impmon slept in a makeshift bed in his small office. Doing his best to rest, Guilmon tossed and turned into the late night. His meal from earlier, though hearty, left him craving for more. Woefully underglutted and undergorged, he could only think about how much stuffed he ought to be.

Food jobs had been slow as of late, and he’d only grown larger and hungrier since his last. Laying on his back, he looked down at his corpulent gut. The mountain of white blubber loomed over him, blocking off part of his front view of the garage door. He squished his claws against its soft-doughy flesh, playing with the sloshing sounds of his last meal. It pleased him to have amassed such an ample amount of fat since meeting Impmon; which made it more difficult to be content having eaten so little.

He rolled himself out of bed, clutching his grumbling gut as it touched the cold floor. Sleep felt impossible to achieve while he fervently hungered for more food; at least just enough to help him feel full and content. He thought of snacking on some of the food in front of the shop. The worst that would happen would be Impmon taking anything he ate out of his allowance; but then, he won’t have enough to enjoy his favorite fast food spots throughout the week.

Then an idea hit him, landing in his stomach like a whole turkey, Carnival Row. With it being garbage day today and the garbage trucks not roaming around the city until sunrise, he had plenty of time to see if what Impmon said was true. Two parallel rows of restaurants stretching down one street, all with dumpsters jam packed with thrown out food to make room for their fresh shipments. The thought of it made his body tremble with excitement. If it were true, Guilmon couldn’t resist letting this tantalizing opportunity go.

The hefty digimon left the garage, creeping past Impmon’s office and through the front of the store, unlocking the doors; he knew Impmon would be livid leaving the door unlocked, but he couldn’t risk waking him by opening the garage. In the dead of night, the streets were fortunately empty of any passing cars or other digimon. Save for the chirping of crickets and his stomping around, all was quiet on the way to Carnival Row. He walked several blocks before finally reaching his destination, his chunky hips feeling sore from the exercise. It amazed him to see such a bustling row of restaurants and the busy street now completely dead of any activity. Even the interiors were all dark with only the dim lights of the street lamps to illuminate some of their insides.

Guilmon initially didn’t smell anything, which disheartened him after walking so much to get here. A sushi restaurant was nearest to him, with a seafood restaurant right beside it. He approached them both, entering an alley that contained both their dumpsters. Swallowing his own spit, he opened the sushi restaurant’s dumpster first, gasping at a collection of white trash bags all huddled together. He leaned inside, pulling one of the bags out and grinning from its weight. Plopping it on the floor, he tore it open with a claw, revealing a trove of delectable sushi rolls and other ingredients all thrown out.

“Impmon was right,” Guilmon rubbed at his rumbling gut, “they really do throw everything away. I’ll just have a couple bags and be back before Impmon wakes up.”

Tearing open a larger hole, he dove into his nightly feast. He dined on delectable rolls of sushi drizzled in soy sauce, lapping up as much as he could into his mouth before taking a big gulp. Expired or not, it tasted delicious all the same. His belly burbled in agreement, pleased from the added sustenance filling out its remaining empty space. After ten hearty mouthfuls, the bag laid flat and emptied. He gave his gut a hearty smack, happy to feel it packed with more food.

Bag by bag, Guilmon glutted on a variety of rolls consisting of krab, lobster, and even octopus. It was as if he were swimming through the whole ocean, guzzling down all of its sea life like a blue whale among krill. The different flavors made him murmur with such delight, he rubbed at his glorping gut after each swallow. Heaps of rice also made up much of his feast, cool and clumped up in massive lumps bigger than his head. It didn’t take long for him to feel sufficiently stuffed, but by then, he was too enthralled by his glutting to want to stop.

Finishing every bag in the sushi dumpster, he trundled over to the seafood dumpster next. The bags were much heavier to lift than those of the sushi dumpster, forcing him to arch his back just to hoist them out. Tearing them open, his greedy claws grabbed at large chunks of salmon, trout, snapper, and catfish. Though cold, their tenderness still fell apart in his mouth. The fatty contents of each mass of fish caused his gut to burble with glee.

Gorging on lobster and crab, cold potatoes and pasta, Guilmon’s feast had a rapid effect on his waistline. Pouring further onto the floor, his belly widened the more he packed inside of it. His thickening legs squished against his underbelly more with each gulp, while his arms rested on top of it as he leaned over to eat. His chunky tail swayed slowly from left to right, dangling a foot off the ground and possessing more girth than most digimon’s midsections. The rolls on his back squeezed together when he stood himself upright, belching into the night air before tossing each finished bag back into the dumpster.

“Ooogh, *ooorp*, that’s much better,” Guilmon grinned with satisfaction, making his way out of the alley. “Food fills you up, *bworp*, so much better, *mmff*, when it’s free.”

Stepping out the alley and into the moonlight, he proudly looked down at his superior gut, now much more rounded and spilled out in front of him. He jutted it outward, feeling his gorge blorp and burble with digestion. He partly lifted some in his arms, huffing from the added pressure causing his gluttony to churn. “I could definitely go to bed now, and Impmon would never know I left.”

Suddenly, his belly let out an uproarious gurgle, causing the crickets around him to stop chirping. Taken aback, Guilmon stared at his belly, then looked to his surroundings. The other ten restaurants on this single street all had their own alleyways between one another, complete with dumpsters of their own. There was the deli and bakery right beside him, and the ice cream shop across the street. The burger restaurant at the corner served fries by the bucketloads, and the burrito restaurant sold them almost as big as his own forearms. Like a stewing pot ready to boil over, Guilmon’s gut bellowed for more; despite feeling full and content, the greedy digimon was more than happy to glut himself with abandon.

“Well, it was a long walk to get here,” Guilmon wryly smiled, sheepishly scratching at his chin. “Maybe I don’t have to go back so soon. Besides, we can still get, *orp*, so much fatter.”

He happily bounced his rotund gut in his arms before dropping it down to the floor with a squelch. Licking his chops, he waddled along to the next alleyway, dragging his hefty corpulent gut along the floor. The dumpster for the bakery was loaded with bags of baked bread, donuts, and cakes that didn’t sell, while the deli dumpster contained bags full of sandwich making ingredients such as meats, cheeses, and veggies. He resumed his gorging, becoming enthralled in the euphoric spectacle once more.

Guilmon rapidly glutted through each bag, feeling each one add to his widening gut and further pressing it against the dumpsters whenever he reached in for another. He barely managed to smile with his pudgy cheeks packed with bread, sweets, meat, and cheeses. Each mouthful he swallowed felt like a boulder crashing into the rest of his indigested gorge with a loud glorp. The confines of his gut stretched well past what he’d considered a day’s worth of eating, stretching well into the overeating category with how his feast pushed against the interior of his bloated gut.

Finishing off his fourth dumpster of food, Guilmon murmured with pleasure at the weight of his gut. He stuck it outward as he walked, arching his back just to lift what he could and give his legs room to walk. Within the next alley, he dined on his next bags of food from within the dumpster, not bothering to lift them out. He ate like a true hog, sifting his muzzle through opened bags and munching on whatever he found. Over time, his belly brushed further and further against the dumpster itself, steadily matching its width and further pressing against his enveloped knees and corpulent thighs.

Gorging on thrown out food from hot dog, noodle, fried chicken, and pasta restaurants, Guilmon began to resemble more of his ideal self. The amount of food he ate from each dumpster could serve a full couple days worth of customers. With all of it crammed in his overfilled gut, the rest of his fattening body found it difficult to keep up. His gut practically swallowed any dumpster he pressed against, forcing him to lean forward, barely touching the floor with the claws of his feet. His red outer hide became dwarfed by the white expanse of his belly, which had grown more than large enough to fit a whole dumpster inside it as well.

As Guilmon finished the dumpsters in the last alleyway, he wore a sloppy grin, groaning as he pulled his body across the street with his own claws. Filled with twelve dumpsters worth of food, his belly had swelled into a wobbling gelatinous mound of white flesh, completely lifting his legs off the ground. His chunk of a tail rested down the side of his gut, its own weight squishing into it like sinking into a marshmallow. His thick love handles squeezed against a hillside of back rolls trailing down to his back shoulders. Despite how difficult it was hauling around such heft, the blubbery digimon couldn’t have been happier.

“*Hic-hilp*, Carnival Row, *hnng*, is a Guilmon’s paradise.” His eyes pleasurably rolled at the apex of his pull, feeling a wave of his gluttony roil inside him, pressing the thick rolls between his back shoulders behind the back of his head. “Oh, to feast like this, *hic-hilp*, every garbage day, *hmmf*. I would get so huge, *buuurap*, so fat, *uuff*, after every month. I could even, *hic-hilp*, eat more food for Impmon. Become so fat, *oof*, he will have to buy, *hilp*, a bigger truck.”

The thought of it made him smile; with gorging like this and food sabotage jobs on top of it, he’d likely be able to submerged Guilmon’s truck under his own belly in a month or two. Growing to such a colossal size made him drool at the mouth, along with how much more food a belly that grand would be able to hold. The motivation gave him the extra zeal he needed to pull himself faster, eager to finish off the last remaining dumpsters across the street and end his night with a bang.

He fervently wolfed down taco and burrito — pizza and cheese burger ingredients from the other restaurants, along with many piles of unsold fries, breadsticks, cheesesticks, and personal sized apple pies. From one alleyway to the next, the distance between the two restaurants grew dangerously closer; even turning himself to face a dumpster suddenly became an issue. The fatter he grew, the more difficult it became to squeeze down the alleys.

Eventually, Guilmon’s belly filled in the alley from wall to wall. His waist and hips brushed against each building on either side of him, forcing him to wiggle his way through just to reach the dumpsters of the last two restaurants. By then, he was a butterball of blubber; so wonderfully overglutted and overgorged, his belly managed to lift his upper body several feet off the ground. Its waterbed-like consistency constantly bobbed him around after every hiccup, creating an endless series of sloshing about, even within the tight alleway.

Guilmon finished his final two dumpsters by pulling them toward him, afterwards he attempted to back his way out toward the street. He pushed himself along the buildings on either side of him, filling the alley with his white ocean of blubber as he shuffled himself into a standing position. Feeling his feet reach the sidewalk, he walked backward, freeing the rest of his mountainous body from their tight confines. He reeled back once his belly popped out, unable to keep himself balanced before falling backward. Flat against the floor, he looked on in shock at the tidal wave of white fat bearing down on him. His face and arms were soon enveloped by soft lard; his ears heard an uproar of thick guttural sloshing, while his gorge massaged his insides. The momentum of his belly shifted forward, pulling him up to a sitting position where he rested atop of his own mountainous girth; his legs spread apart, and his body stretched wider than a limousine, with his gut more than capable of crushing one.

“*Hic-hilp*, what a night,” said Guilmon with a sloppy grin, “such good, *ooourp*, eating. *Uff*, I feel so big, *hic-hilp*, so fat. *Mmmf*, Impmon was right. My stomach, *hic-hilp*, can handle anything.”

His belly squelched as he gave it a series of pats, wobbling to and fro as if he were a red and white mound of jello. Belching to the sky, he looked up to the moon, noticing it in a different position from where it was at the start of his feast. Giving himself a few more pats, he rolled back onto his front, legs lifted off the ground and claws touching the asphalt of the street. Thus began the long journey home, hauling his corpulence while moaning with pleasure from its churning. The feast had been a terrific success; but despite feeling more than overgorged, he might not be able to resist a few more restaurant stops along the way.

* * * * *

The blue dawn came over the city, and with it, Impmon’s alarm clock set itself up. Within his cramped messy office, he rubbed his eyes, hitting the snooze on the clock sitting on a lamp stand right beside him before rolling out of bed. Folding his sheets, he folded the bed back into its couch form, performed his daily hygiene within an adjacent restroom, and walked out into his store. The coffee machine beeped right on que, and the sweet drizzle his mug being filled helped him to wake up. The day appeared to start off as normal, only…there was an absence of a beastly snoring he had grown accustomed to hearing.

“Oh for the love of…don’t tell me.”

Impmon angrily walked to the garage door, shoving it open. He gnashed his teeth at Guilmon’s absence, pounding his head with the palm of his hand. “*Grrr*, that darn peanut brained gallute! I feed him a whole taco truck and he still leaves ta get more food. Unbelievable, he even left the garage door op—.”

Expecting Guilmon to have left through the garage, he was surprised to see it still closed up. “Wait, so if he didn’t leave through there, that would mean…”

Impmon ran back to the storefront, passing  aisles full of snacks before reaching the front doors. He gasped at being able to push them open; the locking latches had all been pulled apart. “That no good, greedy, gluttonous, pin headed, butter ball with legs! I swear when I find him I’m gunna wring his fat neck and—.”

As he pressed his hands together in a choking grip, Impmon gasped at what crawled just outside his very doors. His elephantine associate hauled himself across the street toward the back of the store. Guilmon was at least thrice as big as when he last saw him, bigger and wider than an ice cream truck. Laying atop of his own belly, it loudly bubbled like a hot stew, glorping and sloshing with every pull. Impmon stormed out of his store, confronting Guilmon’s dopey smile between stacks of neck rolls.

“*Hic-hilp*, morning, Impmon.”

“What the heck’s the matta with you, ya fat-swollen dope. Come on, *hnng*, get in the garage before, *huff*, anyone sees ya.” Impmon pushed Guilmon from behind, helping him reach the garage a little faster. “I take one nap and you go rogue on me? You better not have pulled a solo job, cuz I swear—.”

“*Uuurp*, don’t worry, Impmon. I didn’t break into any place.”

“Alright, *hnng*, then how the heck did you get so fat?”

“*Hic-hilp*, Carnival Row.”

Impmon circled around to the garage door, putting in the code for the electric lock. “You serious? Because of what I told you last night?”

Guilmon hauled himself into the garage, having to wiggle himself just to squeeze under the arch. “Oh, you should have seen it, *hic-hilp*, Impmon. Empty streets with dim lights, dumpsters filled with huge bags, *hic-hilp*, full of so much thrown out food. I just kept eating and eating, *uff*, growing bigger, *hic*, and bigger. Then when I was pulling myself back home, I even ate from three more restaurants. I feel, *ooourp*, so full. Oh, it was rich, Impmon. Riiich, *hic-hilp*.”

Reaching his mattress beds, Guilmon rolled himself on top of them, burying them underneath his wide bulk. Impmon grimaced at the sight of him. The sheer size of Guilmon’s belly stretched wider than his own truck bed could fit. The top of his belly brushed against the ceiling. It seemed to have a life of its own, constantly undulating after each hiccup, never settling and filling the room with its echoing sloshes.

“Well aren’t you a piece of work,” Impmon shook his head. “You know one of these days you’re gunna eat so much even that enormous gut of yours is gunna turn on ya and make ya sick.”

“No it won’t, Impmon,” Guilmon patted his belly like a drum, “you were right, *hic-hilp*. My stomach can handle anything.”

Impmon closed the garage door. “Yeah, well…you’re gunna pay for leaving my front door unlocked for some lowlife to come rob the place while I slept. So you better hope that stomach of yours is as durable as you think. Because Imma make sure this next job is a real big one. So big, it’ll really put ya through the ringer. Understand?”

“*Hic-hilp*, thanks you, *urp*, Impmon.”

Impmon shook his head, watching the ball of white lard slosh from left to right, and the edge of Guilmon’s blubberous tail thumping on the floor. With the dinosaur’s gut blocking any avenue to reach the other side of the garage, Impmon reluctantly tried squeezing his way through between the belly and his truck. He fought against a glorping wall of fat, shimmying himself through before becoming completely sandwiched, feeling the gelatinous mass practically absorb his entire body. He knew Guilmon purposefully pressed it against him; once he was free on the other side, he scowled at the dopey glutton, gave his gut a punch, and walked out the room. Yawning, Guilmon closed his eyes and let his arms slump down to his sides. Muffling his hiccups, his fat gut was all that tossed and turned now. His was a blank, overcome with the desire to fall into a long well deserved sleep. His belly’s burbling mixed with his husky snoring, which carried into the store area as Impmon unlocked his register. He nodded his head now that all was right in the store. Sipping his coffee and munching on a small pack of donuts, he sighed with relief through his nostrils; relieved that his gluttonous red butterball hadn’t gone missing, and that he hadn’t destroyed his store just to satiate his nightly hunger.