Hungry Hungry Guilmon

The dark blanket of night swept across the sky. The searchlight glow of the moon and its legion of stars hid under thick clouds, leaving only streetlamps and the dim-moth covered alleyway lights to illuminate the city. It was the ideal setting for Impmon to begin his operation, parking his truck at the edge of an alleyway right beside the back door of a building. His partner Guilmon hopped out of the truck bed, head held downcast as his claws rubbed at his large stomach.

The two walked to the door, Guilmon lifting Impmon by his muzzle in order to unscrew the lightbulb. In the cover of darkness, Impmon produced some tools from under his neck bandana and began picking the locked door. He winked at Guilmon, watching him clutch his middle; it’s muffled gurgling disturbed the night’s tranquil song of crickets chirping and the patter of moth wings.

“Don’t worry, big guy,” said Impmon, “there’s plenty ta eat inside. From what I heard, enough to even fill ya up.” Guilmon wryly smiled, ears drooping like a pet dog waiting to be scolded. Impmon’s grin faded, eyebrows furrowing as his gaze became stern. “What’s the matta? You usually get real excited whenever we’re on a job…what did you do?”

“N-nothing, I-Impmon,” said Guilmon.

“Come on, I know that look. Ya did somethin’, ya just afraid to tell me. Ya feelin’ sick or what?”

“N-no, I-Impmon. It’s not that.”

“Then what? Spit it out. Ya didn’t eat anythin’ all day like I told you, right?” Guilmon averted his eyes, fiddling around with his claws. Impmon gritted his teeth, “you already ate? Ya big lummox. How much?”

“Just a few tacos…some burritos…a couple drinks and snacks. B-but I’m still hungry Impmon, honest. I can still do the job.”

“Unbelievable, I leave ya alone for a few minutes while I talk ta the client, and you head over ta the taco joint down the street? What did I tell ya before? Don’t eat anythin’ the day we’re on a job. We get paid ta sabotage food related businesses, and we can’t do that if you’re too full ta eat everything inside.”

“Sorry, Impmon. I was just so hungry, and the food across the street smelled so good. I swear I didn’t eat too much, see, I really am still starving.”

Guilmon jutted out his stomach. Impmon pushed it away. “You’re always starvin’, that’s why I keep you around. Just do ya job in there and stuff your face with every scrap of food they got, or I’ll shove it all down your gullet myself.”

“You can count on me, Impmon.”

Guilmon gave an enthusiastic salute, his long tail wagging left and right. After successfully picking the lock, the pair entered the dark room and shut the door behind them. Impmon flipped a nearby lightswitch, revealing dozens of wooden crates, boxes on top of wooden pallets and plastic bags of frosting as big as potato sacks. Guilmon walked over to the stack of boxes, sniffing a delectable fruity scent that caused his mouth to water. Cutting through the tape with a claw, he was overjoyed to find a chocolate and vanilla cake topped with banana slices.

“We’re eating cake,” said Guilmon.

“You’re eatin’ cake,” Impmon picked up a nearby crowbar and began opening some of the wooden crates. “This new bakery will be shippin’ out all these goods ta every supermarket and convenience store throughout the city. Our client doesn’t want the competition, so we’re clearin’ this place out. We only got till mornin’, so put that stomach of yours ta work.”

Guilmon needed no second bidding, licking his chops with great relish. With a room full of cakes and sweets all to himself, he gleefully rubbed at his fat belly, excited to commence another gluttonous capper with his pal Impmon. He made quick work of the cake, stuffing it in his jaws, chomping down and finishing it in a single gulp. He licked his lips of frosting as the ball sized glob slid down his throat, entering his stomach with a glorp. Pushing the empty box aside, he moved on to the next cake.

Wolfing down cakes one after the other, Guilmon murmured with delight as he surrendered himself to his gluttony. It was a pleasure going on food heists with Impmon, a future he never thought he’d experience considering how they met. Being a lonely and hungry guilmon wandering the streets, the lights of Impmon’s convenience store beckoned to him like the glow of a warm fireplace. Starved and thin, he rapidly gobbled snacks and drinks as if he were competing for a medal. By the time Impmon returned to the front of his shop, he found half his stock gone and the swollen guilmon sleeping among wrappers and empty bottles. Guilmon thanked his lucky stars that Impmon decided not to report him to the authorities; instead, Impmon introduced him to a new feast every week, keeping him well fed and fattened up.

With each new job Guilmon took on, the amount of food he had to gorge steadily increased. The first weeks of feasting merely left his belly hanging an inch off the ground; but in recent weeks, Guilmon was made sufficiently full, having to crane his head back just to haul around his swollen gut. The increase in eating reflected on his figure, growing him to twice the size of any average guilmon. He quickly grew to love his added size, often patting his wobbling gut, and when the opportunity arose, sharing its heft with Impmon as well.

A quarter of the cakes were finished, their empty boxes laid bare with crumbs and smudged streaks of licked frosting. Guilmon increased his gluttonous pace, smiling as he felt his gut reaching down to the floor, and his sides beginning to pool around his limbs. His haunches and waist widened, along with extra thickness added to his tail. A tire-like ring of fat formed around his neck, squishing against his double chin and brushing against the rolls on his back. The added softness delighted him, giving him something to look forward to by the end of his feast, with so many sugary delicacies pumping him full of blubber.

Guilmon held a cake in both his claws, tossing them in his mouth one after the other. He watched as Impmon pushed the opened wooden crates over to him, salivating at the different snack cakes and pies that filled each crate to the top. With a free claw, he waited for Impmon to come close to him, pulling him in and hugging him against the side of his soft-bubbling belly. Guilmon held him as he wolfed down another cake, making sure Impmon heard it glorp as it entered his stomach and squished against him as it grew another inch.

“*Nnnff*, guh, let me go, *mmff*,” said Impmon, hands seeping into the marshmallowy surface of Guilmon’s belly before retching himself free. “Ya big galoot. Quit foolin’ around.”

Guilmon smirked back, amused at how much of a mattress his gut was compared to Impmon’s tiny frame.

Finishing the last of the cake boxes, he blew a contented sigh, giving his gut a hearty smack. He groaned with pleasure hoisting as much as he could off the floor, sloppily grinning as it covered the entire palette. The impact upon dropping it produced a sickening squelch, sending a pleasant chill down his back. His stocky legs pressed against his belly’s underside while he laid on top of it, sensually patting it with his claws just to hear its soothing sloshes.

Guilmon lifted up all the belly his arms could hold, weighing its sizable heft. He looked over to Impmon who laid against a sack of icing, eyes closed and arms crossed behind his head.

“Hey, Impmon,” Guilmon bounced his gut in his arms, “how come you don’t gorge yourself with me? We could both get huge and fat together. Won’t that be fun?”

Impmon opened one eye, only to close it once he saw the white mass of vanilla pudding that was Guilmon’s gut, jostling around. “I’ll leave all the fun to you, tubbo. I don’t join ya because I’m the brains of this outfit, and you’re the stomach, practically a walkin’ belly with legs. Keep eatin’, you could play with that stomach of yours later.”

Guilmon released his belly, chuckling as it briefly wobbled in place. Dragging it back onto the ground, he lugged his way over to the wooden crates. He gleefully smiled back at Impmon who didn’t take notice, grateful that he took the time to remove each snack cake from their pesky wrappers while he ate his previous feast. Picking up heaps of them in his claws, he tossed them into his maw, devouring them far easier than the cakes before. Eager to have more occupy his gullet, he lifted the whole crate and tilted a corner toward his mouth, pouring down snack cakes like a garbage truck dumping into a landfill.

He did this for much of the smaller foods like cupcakes, mini donuts, muffins and bread rolls. His crooked grin stretched from ear to ear as food cascaded down his gullet, spilling his belly further outward the wider he grew. Several boxes down the line, he encountered food that was still packaged, forcing him to hunch forward over his gut. His legs dug into his underbelly, trying their best to hoist him over just to reach the food in front of him; they lifted further up the more his belly grew, the tips of both feet barely touching the ground.

The empty boxes of Guilmon’s previous feast flattened under the weight of his encroaching belly. Though he was only able to keep one foot on the floor at a time, Guilmon murmured with bliss at how immensely overglutted he felt after finishing half of the crates. The amount of vociferous sloshing and how his body swayed to and fro like a waterbed left him sloppily grinning. It was truly the peak of his gluttonous career thus far, with still far more food to gorge. Moving from crate to crate, he would slide along his own corpulence, as if his stomach had a mind of its own, wresting control of his movements. At his size, it felt like he was a passenger to his blubber’s undulating motions; but so long as he continued to eat and fatten up, Guilmon enjoyed each moment.

Finishing a crate of cinnamon rolls, Guilmon belched and wobbled his belly. As it jiggled, he felt a crate wedged underneath it, prodding him like an overly tight belt buckle. He looked over to Impmon with a devious grin, giving his belly a series of congratulatory pats for coming up with such a fun prank. Holding as much of his stomach back as he could, he sucked it in and arched himself back.

“Im-Impmon, *hrf*, c-can you, *huff*, help me?”

Impmon groaned, “what is it now?”

“Crate, *hnng*, under belly, *wheeze*, can’t reach.”

Impmon stood up, walking toward Guilmon’s front. He spotted the wooden crate squishing against the large cave of white blubber, overshadowed by its mass. “So, it’s Impmon to the rescue again, is it? I swear, you’re such a clutz whenever ya get fat enough.” The crate unlodged as Impmon pulled it off, pushing it further away. “There, it’s out.”

“Actually, I think I feel something else. You see it?”

“What do ya mean? There’s nothin’ else there.”

Guilmon struggled to hold back his laughter. “It feels small, come a little closer.”

“Ya got cake in your ears? I’m tellin’ ya, there’s nothin’—.”

Before Impmon could finish, he saw the shadow of Guilmon’s belly bearing down on him like an avalanche. He only managed to back away a few steps before the sea of blubber folded over his feet and poured over his body, submerging him in sloshing white lard up to his ears. He struggled to move his arms as the weight of Guilmon’s fat pressed against his cheeks. Inch by inch, his hands freed themselves from their captivity, squeezing deep into Guilmon’s blubber just to pull the rest of his body out.

It pleased Guilmon to feel Impmon squirming underneath his mountain of blubber. He purposely patted his belly with the full weight of his arms, feeling its wavelike ripples enveloping Impmon’s body. It wasn’t the first time Guilmon had fun throwing his weight around at Impmon’s expense, but it was a new experience to completely bury him under his own fat. Upon feeling Impmon pull himself free, he felt a light tap at his belly as Impmon kicked it. He circled around into view, scowling back with fury.

“Ya think you’re funny, eh lard for brains,” Impmon began rubbing his back, “well, lets see ya laugh when I take my trip to the massage therapist out of your cut tonight. Your stomach weighs a ton, nearly crushed me.”

Guilmon chuckled, “sorry Impmon, it was a lot of belly to hold back. My arms got tired.”

“And I’m gettin’ tired waitin’ here while you goof off. Hurry up and finish so we could go.”

Unable to hold back a belch, Guilmon nodded his head and returned to his feast. After finishing a few more crates, leaning forward to access his food became too difficult. His mountainous gut forced him to lean over sideways; his bulging waistline and hips proved far less cumbersome, although, balancing his weight toward one side brought its own challenges. Growing larger, he collapsed to the ground, pulling himself over to the next crate with one arm while his belly towered over him, spilling further across the floor.

Once all the crates had been finished, Guilmon lay moaning on his back, overglutted and overgorged more than he ever had been to date. His bulky arms and legs spread themselves outward, giving his gut plenty of breathing room. He moaned with both pleasure and discomfort whenever his stomach sloshed, and it sloshed whenever he hiccuped. The noise stirred Impmon from his rest, who grimaced at the sight of the titanic red and white wrecking ball lying in the center of the room.

“Geeze, Fido,” Impmon walked toward Guilmon’s head, looming over the dinosaur’s swollen face sinking into his roll of neck fat. “Ya really packed it all away today. What happened with all these frosting bags? Why haven’t ya eaten them yet?”

“*Ooog*, sorry Impmon,” said Guilmon, “I feel, *hic-hilp*, *hnng*, so full.”

Impmon raised an eyebrow. “Full? Oh no, you can’t be full. We still got some work ta do here.”

“*Orp*, it’s okay, Impmon. I ate, *hic-hilp*, all the cakes and treats they were sending out. It’s just the frosting that’s left. They can’t, *huff*, do anything with that.”

“They can make more cakes, ya bloated dope. See, this is why I do all the thinkin’, for the both of us.”

Impmon pulled over the hefty plastic sack of frosting he had been sleeping on, cut off a corner and positioned it near Guilmon. “Come on, open your pie hole.” Guilmon reluctantly opened his mouth, muffling as Impmon heaved the sack inside of it, positioned the hole toward his throat and gave it a tight squeeze, gushing the frosting down his gullet like a slushy machine.

“Don’t give me that look,” said Impmon, “I told ya not to eat anythin’ before we got here. You wouldn’t be full if you’d just listen ta me. We still got all these sacks of frosting to go, and frankly, all them boxes of cake mix at that table over there. Buckle up my boy, your stomach’s earning its pay tonight.”

Muffling as he gulped down icing, Guilmon watched Impmon walk to a wide table at the end of the room. From a nearby fridge, Impmon pulled out dozens of egg cartons, mixing them into bowls along with cake mix, vegetable oil and water. Taking an empty plastic sack from the end of the table, he filled it with the bowl of cake batter, tying up the opening once it filled near the top. He did this until every egg, box of mix and bottle of oil was completely used up. The pile of batter filled sacks caused Guilmon to gulp in apprehension, sweat dripping down his head after barely being able to swallow one sack of icing alone.

As Guilmon diligently tried gulping down more icing, Impmon brought the sacks of cake batter closer, along with the remaining icing sacks in the room. By the time he finished, Guilmon was only on his third sack, gulping down a trickling stream of icing like drinking through a straw.

“Sheesh,” said Impmon, “you’re gunna take all night at this rate. Here, Gilly, let me help ya out with that.”

Impmon leapt onto Guilmon’s thick roll of neck fat, back pressing into the dinosaur’s bubbling belly. He hugged the sack with both arms, unable to wrap them fully around due to its portly size. As he squeezed the sack, he deviously grinned at the sight of Guilmon wincing with discomfort, muffling his moans as frosting gushed down his throat. He made sure the sack was emptied to its last drop, folding it up like a tube of toothpaste and tossing it away when finished.

“Now that’s more like it,” Impmon patted Guilmon’s gut, “your stomach enjoys it too. Grab another one of them sacks, this is actually kinda fun.”

Guilmon reluctantly reached for a sack of cake batter, hoisting it up to Impmon for more feeding. The night carried on with Guilmon feeling his overburdened stomach stretching beyond its limits, filled with more indigested gorge than he ever dreamed of eating. While he helplessly winced from Impmon continuing to feed him, he also felt a conflicting pang of pleasure to the gluttony as well. It was overeating like he never knew himself capable of, only possible with help from his pal Impmon. It pained his stomach, warmed his heart and tingled him with a sense of euphoria as his corpulence grew increasingly bigger with each gulp.

Guilmon opened his eyes, dazedly looking at his mountainous belly and sloppily grinning with pride. As Guilmon no longer physically showed any discomfort, even after Impmon gave the sack an extra tight squeeze, Impmon’s satisfaction quickly faded. He was once more repulsed at the look of hedonistic satisfaction on Guilmon’s face, and his role in further enabling it. It sickened him to sink his feet up to his ankles in neck fat, watching it squish against Guilmon’s puffy cheeks. The dinosaur’s smug grin forced him to squeeze each sack even tighter, gushing icing and batter through the holes like water from a firehose, just to speed things up.

As Guilmon grew fatter, he watched as his lard laden belly became too swollen to control. His legs were completely enveloped, with only his fat tail barely peeking out from the bottom. His expanded waistline propped up his arms, while his towering belly attempted to collapse on top of him. He held it back with his claws, preventing Impmon from sinking in; their bodies molding into its white pudge. Still, Guilmon couldn’t help but wobble his belly, letting out a muffled moan as his feast churned around, to which Impmon demanded he stop.

A pile of empty plastic sacks stacked to the right of Guilmon, with the final empty sack of cake batter being added to it and ending the feast. Impmon jumped clear of Guilmon’s neck fat, and the tower of blubber that nearly consumed him. Without Impmon’s body to help hold it back, Guilmon’s arms tired out. His eyes widened with shock as his own belly pounced on him, smothering his muzzle and arms in a thunderous symphony of sloshing. Feeling his own gelatinous belly crush him as it did with Impmon, his face flushed a bright crimson, enamored by the churning of his feast and the immensity of his stomach.

Feeling his legs and tail free themselves of his gut for a moment, they were once again enveloped as it surged forward. Its momentum lifted Guilmon to a standing position; the churning of his gorge like laundry tumbling in a dryer, caused him to moan with intense glee. He leaned forward onto his belly, legs and tail lifting off the ground until his chest was flat to the floor. Unable to move, he felt the weight of his back blubber pour over his arms and the back of his head. His muzzle was all that was visible before his fat sloshed away, returning him up to an upright position once again.

Impmon shook his head, “gosh, you’re one fat butter ball, aren’t you? They ought to call you Jellomon at this point, ya greedy guts.”

Guilmon slumped over his mammoth of a gut, wearing a crooked smile while gently patting it. “*Hic-hilp*, it’s not that bad, Impmon. It’s fun, *mmff*, having so much, *hic-hilp*, belly. You should join me next time, *huff*, you’ll like it.”

“Yeah, think I’ll pass, lard fat. Open the garage door if you can. I’ll bring the truck around.”

Guilmon hiccuped and waved as Impmon left out the back door. The button to the garage door was to his left along the wall, just a few steps away. He arched his back and firmly planted his stocky pillar-like legs on the ground, and with what little strength he possessed in his limbs, lifted up as much of his belly as he could. He got none of it off the ground, but managed to toss up enough of his weight to walk forward one step at a time. He continued until his arms and legs grew tired; by then, he was close enough to roll onto his belly and push the button to the garage door.

Impmon waited on the other side with the truck bed tailgate lowered. The bed and suspension of the truck’s wheels creaked as Guilmon’s blubbery corpulence crawled onto it; his vociferous sloshing breaking the peaceful night’s silence. Impmon feebling tried pushing him up, arms sinking into the fat surface till his cheeks rubbed Guilmon’s belly. Once he climbed aboard, Impmon patted his partner’s chunky tail before heading to the driver’s side door.

“Ya did good, kid. This’ll do a lot for our rep. Keep that stomach of yours nice and big. We got much bigger jobs to look forward to in the future, you and me.”

The truck’s engine revved, and they began cruising down the road. Guilmon laid sprawled on his back, right arm slumped over the truck while his left leg did the same. He looked up to the night sky, watching the lush clouds pass by, freeing the moon and starry sky from their shroud. At peace under the stars and lulled by his burbling belly, his eyes grew heavy with sleep. He gave his gut a heavy smack with his left arm, murmuring blissfully as it sloshed against his muzzle. His eyes shut and he began to snore, dreaming of the bigger feasts that awaited on the horizon, and the new feats of fatness he had yet to comprehend.