First off, big thanks to  Crunchy Scribbles for this- Sandra and Caleb both feral, but looking no less well-fed! Make sure to show some love to the original here, too! http://www.furaffinity.net/view/13736786/

As a bonus treat, however, I wanted to write at least a short vignette of how it'd be for them to live so fat and happy in the wild...


The smell of fresh, ripe strawberries tickled Caleb’s nose, rousing him from yet another long nap in the evening shade. Lifting his head, he yawned and sniffed at the breeze that rushed over the hilltop where he lay- May’s late twilight turned the edge of the sky a milky gold, where it nestled atop the treeline, long shadows stretching their shade out from the forest behind him. By the brook, at the bottom of the hillside’s slope, swallows spun and wheeled and dove, skimming the water for a late-night meal, while within the forest, the lilting song and churr of cardinals repeated, his ears swiveling to listen in.

Grunting as he rolled onto his side, he was only to be greeted with the sharp, sudden poke from one of many licked-clean bones from the chicken he’d managed to finally enjoy the last of. Getting onto all fours, he lowered his chest to the ground in a stretch that at the same time brought his incredibly round belly brushing the ground at the mouth of the large den. Quite wonderfully, he found his stomach no longer ached with the strain of having feasted on an entire chicken for the fourth day in a row, leaving him with a sated contentment he never would have known a year ago.

He was easily three times the fox now that he’d been back then; before, he was a scrawny thing that just barely managed to make it through the winter, holding off starvation by nibbling fallen birdseed- staring enviously (and hungrily) at the plump, round squirrels able to gorge themselves on as much as they pleased from the bounty of the winter feeders.

Now, however… he leaned forwards, stretching his hindlegs out to feel them splay around the swell of his belly, so round and overfed that it bumped the ground, bulging against the insides of his thighs until he eased back down, where warm, sandy ground tickled and shifted against the underside of his furred stomach. It was a pleasant, constant reminder of just how fat he’d become. His sides bulged out nearly as far as his belly hung low- turning his once lean, slight vulpine body entirely as round as a barrel when he rested back on his stomach, fattened flanks and sides giving a quiver as he held a chicken bone between his paws to gnaw.

A soft breeze swept down the hillside, catching a few stray chicken feathers scattered around him, and setting them tumbling and careening away. For the fox, staying so well-fed had simply become a matter of patience… just like when he was a cub, waiting for his mother to return with a squirrel or mouse in her jaws. Only now, an even more capable huntress now brought him entire chickens, wildfowl and rabbits, daily; each sunrise would bring with it the promise of dozens of songbird and chicken eggs for breakfast, even.
A bit of movement appearing out of the trees caught his eye, a gray figure silhouetted against the dim, washed-out gray the world was becoming as the sun’s last light fell beyond the reach of the tallest treetops. Ah, there she was! Only slightly larger than him, but every bit as astoundingly well-fed, a coyote trotted into view, thick belly swaying pendulously from side to side in a prancing, proud, triumphant step that made her sides and flanks bounce and wiggle in plumpness- irrefutable evidence of her prowess as a masterful hunter and scavenger.

Feeling his muzzle water in spite of himself, her pleased gait meant only one thing- she’d found something extra special to treat him with… the last time he’d seen her walk that way was when she’d brought back an entire turkey for them both to devour, leaving them both too gorged and sated to do anything more than spend the rest of the day grooming one another.

Lifting his nose to the wind, his muzzle hung open when he smelled what she carried… chicken, but covered in the scent of being cooked in its own fat until the skin had grown crisp and crunchy, and the flesh beneath, savory and succulent. His bushy plume of a tail began to lift and wiggle back and forth when she approached- prize held between her jaws.

How far had she ventured into the town, this time? He could only marvel at her bravery and resourcefulness… as their stomachs and sides grew, so did her territory- what other gorgeous creature could claim to prowl both forest and alleyways with equal cunning and effortless craft? Whining in greeting, he tilted his head up to meet her muzzle. Letting the drumstick fall at his crossed forelegs, she greeted her wonderfully well-fed fox, as he nuzzled and licked her cheek in return. Oh, yes, he adored her. She always knew where to find the best late-night snacks.