Foxington of Fat pt 2

“You sure you don’t need any backup,” said Mr. Wolf, “it feels irresponsible to let you take on a whole gang of weasels on your own.”

“I fought off over a hundred guards breaking you out of prison,” said Diane, “I can handle a couple of weasels.”

“But you were much more…agile…back then. Maybe I should have the chief stand by just in case.”

“Trust me Wolf, I still know a couple moves. You just make sure to have the truck outside the warehouse an hour from now.”

“Can I at least ask why?”

“You’ll see when I open the garage. Now, it’s real important you get the right truck: a double wide bed, the widest they got. Got that?”

“Yeah, I got it. See you soon, Diane.”

The fox slipped her phone into her pocket. After a week of hard investigation with Mr. Wolf and the other Bad Guys, they managed to track down the lair of a notorious gang of weasels who have been pawning and selling stolen goods around the streets of Los Angeles. Currently at the end of the month, the gang would bring their loot to an abandoned warehouse where they’d take inventory and distribute the goods to dealers in the city. For one day, everyone in the gang was gathered in one singular place, and Diane Foxington couldn’t have been more excited.

Weeks have passed since her first life changing feast at Wolf’s hideout, most of which she spent sleeping off her excess weight. Once her footpaws were able to touch the floor and her belly lifted off the ground, she worked to grow accustomed to her larger body. She’d glut herself just enough to maintain her weight; the image of her voluptuous curves and hanging gut were too alluring to waste away. In the back of her mind however was the ravenous fox still waiting for the next massive feast to push her beyond her previous largest size, and once the weasel’s routine and hideout were discovered, her mouth watered at the new opportunity.

Her new titanium lined grappling hook helped her to get onto the warehouse roof, and hauling herself over the edge, she pulled down the face mask of her crimson paw jumpsuit to blow a labored breath. Even with its extensive size adjustment, her suit fit snugly around each crevice and roll of her corpulent body. She took great pride in being even larger than Mr. Shark, oftentimes giving her hips a smack or her belly a playful shake, but clothes never quite felt the same after feeling her fat freely jiggle while in the fur. Tugging on the tight parts of her suit, the thought of her fat tearing through it caused her spine to tingle with delight.

Sneakily waddling to the roof access door, Diane pulled from her utility belt a lipstick blowtorch to burn through the lock. She walked down the stairwell until she reached the second door, opening it the same way. The dimly lit room was filled with rows of file cabinets she could barely squeeze through on her way to the next door. Feeling her butt and belly flattening like a sandwich, she tried wiggling through without making too much noise.

The next room she entered looked to be someone’s private office, complete with an exceptionally nice wooden desk, a velvety red chair behind it, and two chairs sitting across. Two cabinets were at the back and right side of the room, both with glass panes. The back one had different bottles of vintage liquor on display, while the right side one had different assortments of jewelry. There was a cigar box on the table, and a photo of a weasel in a white suit, smugly smiling with a gold fang.

“Nice suit,” said Diane, “but tacky taste in jewelry.”

Walking to the office door, she peeked her head out getting a full view of the rest of the warehouse interior. Another office was to her left with stairs leading down to the warehouse floor. In front of her were two more rooms with signs hanging over their doors, the closest one reading, “breakroom,” and the one beside it, “conference room.” The rooms were all that consisted of the second floor, with only a balcony connecting each room. Peering past the guardrails overlooking the main warehouse floor, she saw hundreds of weasels all at different workstations, sorting through storage containers filled with different commodities. Hundreds of the beasts scurried around to the barking orders of underbosses as they worked to complete the day’s task.

From up high, the number of weasels looked slightly more intimidating than Diane had bargained for. As fervently pleased as she was to gorge herself on all of them, she now wondered if it would actually be best to call the chief of police for backup. As her paw slipped down to reach for her phone, a tantalizing aroma brushed past her muzzle. She immediately turned her attention to the conference room, tip-toeing along until she peeked through open window blinds, eyes bulging as wide as dinner plates.

Within the breakroom were fifteen weasels of varying shapes and sizes, all packed into a small space like a sardine can. They were much bigger up close, each standing near chest height of her. Five refrigerators stood side by side at the back of the room; a weasel opened one of them, revealing four rows filled to the brim with bagged lunches. As the weasels stuffed their faces, Diane’s stomach growled with anticipation. Her previous misgivings had vanished. With her hunger flared up, she was determined to turn this warehouse of crime into her own personal buffet.

Diane giddily rushed to the break room door, wiggling her wedged hips through before shutting the door behind her. The talkative weasels grew dead quiet, apprehensively standing upright ready to charge her at the flick of a claw.

“Who are you,” spoke the burliest of the weasels, “you’re not supposed to be here.”

“I’ve just come to join you for lunch,” Diane removed her hood, “hope you boys don’t mind.”

“Is t-that the g-governor,” spoke a different weasel.

A short pause ensued before the group of weasels bellowed out in uproarious laughter. They were left in stitches, flailing on the floor or holding onto each other for support.

“What on earth happened to her? She’s a blimp.”

“I’ll say, she’s raided one too many hen houses.”

“Did you see how she had to wiggle through the door? What a fatty.”

“And she’s joining us for lunch? I think that stomach’s had more than enough for one day.”

The burly weasel wiped a tear from his eye as he walked up to Diane. “Alright boys, I’ll handle her. The boss will give me a bonus as big as you when I turn you—.”

As he reached out to grab her, Diane leaned forward, pulling him by the lapel of his shirt till he bumped into her belly. His claws clutched around her paws to wretch them away before he looked up, seeing her unnerving smile and piercing green eyes, staring at him with wonton desire. His courage faded once she opened her drooling maw; his pointed muzzle slid seamlessly toward the back of her throat, fitting like a glove. He struggled to push himself out, but the power of her throat swallowed him down to his wrists in a matter of seconds. Once she lifted him off the ground, it was like going down a fleshy slide, then…there was darkness.

Diane licked her chops, leaning against the doorway for support while giving her gut a hearty smack. Her black jumpsuit stretched from her bulging belly, bouncing around as her meal squirmed about; his muffled protests caused the other weasels to freeze in fright. “*Oooouurp*, oooh, I’ve waited so long to do this again. Now, who’s next?”

Locking the door and shutting the blinds, the vixen strutted her way toward her dinner. Some of the weasels attempted to fight back, while the rest tried making a break around her for the door. In such a tight space, Diane was able to keep them all in front of her. She easily lapped up the weasels who fought back, sometimes swallowing two at a time, while kicking and pushing the runners into each other. Even as her gorge kicked with their legs protruding out of her maw, she held her next meal in both arms, and pinned the next two against the fridges with her massive belly. Not one weasel managed to escape her hunger, leaving her smacking her lips, murmuring with great satisfaction.

“Mmm, goodness I’ve missed this so much,” Diane leaned her back against the fridges, looking down at her enlarged body. “Just look at how fat you’ve all made me. *Bwoorp*, uh, I can’t wait to gorge on all of your friends down below. I’m gunna turn into such a blob!”

Diane wrapped her arms around her enlarged gut, barely able to lift half of it up as she wobbled it about. Jutting several feet outward, it hung down to her knees, glorping against them with each jostle. The flexibility of her suit had reached their limits, tearing in rows around the front of her gut, waistline, hips and the back of her rump. Her paws clutched at each new soft blubbery inch of fat she had gained, groping her rear and cinder block sized love handles. She admired her girth till she ran out of breath, grinning through her pudgy cheeks and giving her belly a final series of pats.

“Alright, Diane. There’ll be plenty of fondling later,” she turned around, facing the fridges, “for now, we have to get fatter.”

Opening her first fridge, she grabbed at every plastic or brown bag of lunch till her arms could hold no more. Her nimble—but chubby—paws plucked each lunch from their bag and immediately popped it in her mouth, not even bothering to see what she found. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, tuna sandwich, chips, bowls of pasta, and burritos were among most of what she tasted. Pot pies and other packaged lunches she also gobbled up with speed, tossing the remains toward the back of the room. Everything washed down nicely with the numerous energy and soft drinks she found at the back of the fridge, chugging multiple down at a time.

She let out a bellowing belch after finishing all the food and drink in the final fridge, ending her count at eighty four lunches. Her orange belly tore a sizeable hole in her suit, seeping out of it like a crop top. Diane proudly patted it before making her way to the door. She struggled more than before to get out, trying to push a belly full of food and fifteen squirming weasels through. Like toothpaste squeezing through its tube, she gradually exited the room until her hips became stuck between the doorway. Belly spilling onto the balcony, she leaned forward, pushing with her legs. The moment she broke free, she lunged toward the guardrail, pressing against it with a loud glorp and dangerously bending it with her weight till she almost hovered over the bustling warehouse floor.

Diane blew a sigh of relief at nearly becoming a pancake splattered down below. The railing ominously creaked as the nuts and screws holding it in place began to buckle under her weight. She made an effort to back away but was suddenly drawn to the garage doors. Sunlight poured in as they opened, and three pickup trucks drove in reverse to the center of the room, bringing with them a mouthwatering smell that put Diane in a trance. The truck beds held a heavy cargo of square boxes, which Diane was all too familiar with. From the center truck, a weasel with a white suit and fedora stood on the truck bed. Every weasel down below ceased their work when they heard him raise his voice.

“Alright all of you mangey bags of fur, stop what you’re doing and come here. That’s right, everyone gather around.” The horde of weasels all gathered in a circle directly beneath Diane. “We’ve had a real productive year so far, and it’s thanks to all of you hustling and moving your tails out in the streets to make this business happen. This latest haul was the biggest we’ve ever had, and let me tell ya, I couldn’t be happier. So, I thought hey, why not have us a little celebration. Boys?”

Three weasel henchmen lowered the back gate of each truck. The head ferret hopped down, opening up one of the white boxes. “Hope you all like pizza. There’s more than enough for everyone, take home a box, or ten boxes. Hopefully now you all can say, ‘maybe Monty isn’t such a hard tail after all’, hehe. But seriously, eat everything or take it home. I’ve spent too much just for you all to throw out the leftovers.”

The circle began to disperse as weasels walked up to the trucks to get their box of pizza. Diane’s belly gurgled with envy, squishing between the bars of the bent guardrail. She licked her chops, fixated on the gooey cheese sticking to the box as she watched the weasels bite off large chunks. Her mind was too fixated on food to remember the failing guardrail, and before she knew it, the rail suddenly snapped off, sending her falling in mid air. The fall felt like an eternity as the world spun around, her whole body encased with such fear she couldn’t produce so much as a scream. She landed with a thunderous squelch, not onto concrete, but a dozen furry bodies that cushioned her fall, all of which now groaned with pain from having a bovine of a vixen land on them.

Diane groggily returned to her feet, rubbing her head while surrounded by a horde of weasels. All eyes were on her, shocked and angered by her sudden intrusion. The head weasel rubbed his eyes, convinced what he saw had to be some trick of the eye. “Governor Foxington, is t-that you? I heard talk around town that you turned into a complete sow, but I didn’t want to believe it. What on earth are you doing here?”

“I’m here to, *urp*, shut you down, Monty.”

“Really? You’re gunna do that with your ridiculous belly hanging out of your suit? I’d say you’re gunna have a hard time running for reelection after my boys are done with you, but you don’t seem to be doing a lot of running these days. A hundred bucks to the first weasel to grab her. Maybe I could use her as a garbage disposal to eat all the leftover pizza.”

“Oh I plan to eat a lot more than that, trust me.”

Diane wobbled her gut at the head weasel, then bashed it against the first weasel that ran to grab her. She thrusted her large rump behind her, knocking over a few more advancing weasels. Despite her massive size, she managed to offensively throw her weight around, but found herself getting winded rather quickly.

“Come on you bunch of wimps,” shouted Monty, “she’s a pile of lard for pete’s sake. Just pile on top of her or something.”

After knocking a few weasels to the ground, she became too exhausted to fight back. A mass of weasels rushed her, grabbing her arms and legs. Suddenly, the horde of weasels began to dog pile her, forcing her to a sitting position. The weight of her adversaries barred her from moving her limbs, leaving only her head to swivel around atop of her roll of neck fat. She became buried under them soon after, with the remaining weasels forming a large pyramid above her. They snickered and sneered, foolishly confident to have subdued the governor of Los Angeles. But the weasels closest to her head desperately tried pushing their way out of the pile to no avail.

“Well done boys, that should teach that fox to mess with—.”

*Ulp*.

Monty ears perked up. “The heck was that?”

*Ulp*....*ulp*.

For all his bravado, the head weasel grew deathly quiet upon hearing the echo of hefty gulping. The fur on the back of his neck stood up like needles. His footpaws trembled with the desperate urge to run, but both intrigue and horror nailed him firmly on the truck bed. The gulping grew louder, and the sound of panicked weasels could be heard underneath the pyramid. Too frightened to give orders to his goons, Monty simply watched as the top of the mound began sinking in on itself.

Suddenly, the mound began to pulsate, bobbing the weasels up and down after each gulp; then the patches of orange fur began to peek out of the brown fur. Like a leviathan bursting through the surface of the ocean, Diane’s head emerged from the top of the mound, mouth stretched to an impossible degree and with five weasels wedged halfway inside of it. Two gulps and she swallowed the five whole before swooping up another five like a pelican hunting fish.

Diane became awash with ecstasy, so enslaved to her lust for gluttony and fat that she threw any caution she had to the wind. She forcibly packed as many weasels in her mouth as she could scoop up, fitting up to eight once the grip around her arms loosened. Her suit had been torn to ribbons, unable to contain her mountainous body. The weasels closest to the ground became pinned under her encroaching belly, hips, and rear, while those near her arms and front she held up to her chest, squeezing them tightly against her bosom as she gobbled them up multiple at a time.

Some of the weasels who managed to get off the mountain of fox tried saving those underneath her flab, or the ones she held onto. But they soon suffered the same fate, with no weasel having the sense to save themselves. It was as if a conveyor belt of weasels helped to blob her up enough to flatten one of the three pickup trucks under her weight. Once she ate the final weasel in her arms, she let out a thunderous belch. She managed to stand herself upright, then began inching her way toward the head weasel.

Monty’s heart skipped a beat watching the sloshing behemoth cast her wide shadow over him. A groggy weasel ran to the front of the truck and turned on the ignition.

“Get us out of here,” shouted Monty, “go-go-go-go!”

Just as the tires screeched, Diane lunged herself at the truck. She managed to hold the truck in place with half of the upper portion of her belly, tires burning rubber before blowing up completely. She crawled further up the truck bed, breaking the suspension of all four tires as more of her corpulence poured over it. She smuggly grinned at the head weasel with cheeks the size of beach balls, pulling him close to her neck folds.

“Looks like your trucks, *ooouurp*, can’t handle me, Monty.”

“P-p-please, all that stuff about you being fat, I didn’t mean it. All the stuff in this warehouse, I’ll give it back, honest, just let me go.”

“And have you miss out on all this pizza, come on.” Diane reached around the truck to the drivers seat, pulling the weasel out of the window and eating him. “You said so yourself, *bworp*, you paid far too much to let it all go to waste. Who better to enjoy this feast than the big boss himself?”

Opening up one of the pizza boxes at the front of the truck bed, she skillfully rolled one up with a chubby paw and thrusted it into the weasel’s mouth. The grease and sauce splattered onto Monty’s pristine white suit while Diane held him by the back of the scruff. He tried pushing himself away, but his paws sunk into her neck rolls like he was kneading dough. Keeping his mouth shut didn’t help thanks to her twisting his scruff, forcing him to yelp in pain, giving her enough time to quickly shove another pizza into his gullet.

Pie after pie she fed him, watching his belly and chest burst the buttons off of his suit. After twenty boxes he had become so painfully full his moaning gave her the opportunity to feed him. With both paws free, she shoved twice as many pizzas into his maw, licking drool from her chops at the sight of her final meal fattening to her liking.

After being fed every box of pizza on the truck, Monty looked as if he had swallowed a rhinoceros, laying on his back and groaning with discomfort. Diane gave his belly a hearty pat before slugging herself off of the truck, knowing he wasn’t going anywhere. She turned her attention to the remainder of the weasels groaning on the warehouse floor, barely able to move after having tons of fox flab completely flatten them. She picked them up off the ground, popping them in her mouth like candy and swallowing with ease. The ones who managed to get back on their feet, she elegantly tossed in the air before catching them directly in her mouth, giggling at how single meals barely made a bulge in her throat anymore.

With no more weasels to eat beside Monty, Diane finally had time to admire the titanic amount of weight she had put on. Her arms were the size of couches. Her butt stretched wider than the pickup trucks, fully capable of crushing them under her globular buns. Stacks of rolls formed underneath her arms, folding over each other like pancakes. Her gelatinous belly was her pride and joy, stretching several inches outward and piling onto the floor like melted ice cream. It writhed with ten score of her prey, sending ripples throughout the rest of her blubbery body.

Diane leaned forward, arms outstretched as she fell flat onto her enormous gut. It felt like falling into a bubbling bed, feeling her hulking legs squish against it, barely able to move forward. “*Hic-hilp*, oooh, I’m so massive,” the fox moaned with pleasure, “eighty lunches, a hundred weasels, *hic-hilp*, can a girl get any, *bwooorp*, fatter?”

Gleefully patting her ocean of lard, she sloppily grinned looking over at Monty. “*Buuuraaap*, *huff*, right, can’t forget about you, *hic-hilp*. You’ll make for some perfect fox blubber.”

Inching herself over to the weasel, she pulled him onto her bed of a belly, resting his head against her chest. She carried him over to the left side truck to resume his feeding, doing the same with the right side truck as well. Her excitement welled up the more his weight would further press down on her gut, causing her own fat to pool around him. Drool poured down the corners of her mouth as his tantalizing heft mesmerized her with its jiggling. By the time he finished the final pizza, he was large enough to fill out a whole truck bed.

The fox deviously giggled, proudly fondling his sloshing gut with great relish. “Mmm, yes! *Hic-hilp*, you’ll make for one fattening, *hic-hilp*, final meal.”

Monty could only moan as Diane hoisted him up to her chest. It was arduous work heaving such a heavy meal with her lard coated arms, feeling his sloshing weight glorping against her own body. Once his head reached her mouth, she guided him in, immediately feeling the plush expanse of his chest fill up all available space. So malleable was the fat weasel, It was like devouring the world’s largest marshmallow. His fat completely enveloped her muzzle as she tilted her head upward, feeling his corpulence pour over her face and brush against her neck rolls. He was certainly the largest meal she had ingested to date, wider than wolfing down eight weasels at once.

Diane was in complete heaven, wobbling her landscape of orange lard as it expanded with each gulp. She could feel the weight of her body further stretching in all directions, growing fuller rolls that fought to envelop each other, and a body that sought to swallow up her limbs and head. The wide expanse of her stomach surpassed that of her hips and waist, becoming a big blubbery wall that sat in front of her.

Taking her last few gulps, she catapulted her stomach outward with a sickening squelch. She collapsed onto her belly, moaning with bliss as it bobbed her up and down like a water bed. “*Ooouuurp*, mmm, so much, *hic-hilp*, fat. So much, *urp*, blubber. Oooh, this is the life, *hic-hilp*.”

With all her meals finished, Diane shuffled her way toward the edge of the warehouse, toward the open garage door. Each inch she moved caused her massive belly to erupt in a symphony of sloshing as she pushed against it. She could feel her indigested gorge squishing against the walls of her inner stomach, pushing against lard or crushing her innards, giving her a pleasurable inner massage. Her hefty cheeks blushed a bright red from the plethora of stimulation caused by her wobbling mass of a body, feeling everything from her rump and thighs rubbing together, to the neck fat behind her head brushing against her ears. She was beyond enamored by her size, unable to keep her paws off her amorphous blobby figure.

By the time she reached the edge of the garage, a large yellow dump truck began pulling up in reverse. Diane grinned upon seeing the shocked face of Mr. Wolf as he exited the vehicle. Belching to the sky, she gave her belly a hearty shake before attempting to turn around. “I might be, *hic-hilp*, heavier than I originally thought, but this truck, *orp*, should be able to handle me.”

Mr. Wolf walked beside her, scratching the back of his head. “You know, I expected you to do something like this, but part of me was hoping this truck was to load all of the stolen goods. Did you really eat the entire gang of weasels?”

“*Bwooorp*, all accounted for,” Diane patted her belly, “along with all their lunches, *hic-hilp*, and a ton of pizza.”

“And you don’t feel the least bit ill? Honestly, just listen to that gut, it sounds like a stew ready to boil over.”

“I told you, *orp*, this stomach can handle anything. Take me some place nice, *hic-hilp*. I’d like to digest all of this in peace.”

Wolf shook his head as he went back to the front of the truck. Seating her rump on the back of the bed, Diane leaned herself back, causing the truck to groan under her weight. She managed to pull herself toward the front of the truck bed, tapping the truck top to signal Wolf to drive. Her mountainous belly towered over her as she lay on her back, pouring over the truck’s edges along with her hips. Her blubber had filled up all available space, as if she were wedged in a bathtub. Still, the ride remained pleasant. Each bump in the road or uneven surface would slosh her belly up to her face, squishing against her muzzle and giving her an earful of its tar like glorping. Scooping up large armfuls of her lard, she melted into her sea of blubber, basking in its soft-undulating glory. She never thought she could surpass her previous feast until now, which began to form other dreams and possibilities in her head. After she had finished digesting the weasels, she would have to look for her next huge gluttonous opportunity, reaching a level of corpulence that would surpass her expectations once more. A new potential feast existed around every corner of the city. If she allowed her gluttony to truly come off the leash, she may have to make the Los Angeles crater her new place of residence.