A food loving husky believes he's found his true calling when a touring eating competition comes to town looking for competitors. Will he eat his way into the team, and what awaits him on the road ahead?

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People really seem to like that drawing I made of the chubby husky post eating contest, so I decided to flesh out a character for it! I'm planning to make this story a long, gradual weight gain- with a few other elements here and there. This project won't be short in making time or in length, and each thumbnail will describe what happens in the chapter, not in the overarching story. Part two will be out soon!

I highly recommend not downloading the .txt and instead reading this story below this description, or HERE: https://docs.google.com/document/d/.....it?usp=sharing

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"I can't believe it! I just can't get over it!"
"Slow down, Bax... start over. The... what's coming to town?"
"The touring eating contest! Of all the places in the area they could have chosen to stop at for a day's show, it was this one! And they were looking for an opening. Isn't it incredible?" Manny couldn't help the smile teasing his expression. Baxter was an energetic soul, and his demeanor was almost always contagious. Manny didn't understand the appeal of an eating contest, of all things... but only a cold, absolutely barren-hearted, dead-eyed bastard would feel anything but fondness for Baxter's excited rambles.
"I take it you tried for the opening?"
"DUH! This is like- my opportunity. My calling." Baxter's curled over tail gave a happy, bouncing swish. It would be easy to mistake the overly enthusiastic husky for some optimistic puppy, what with his height and soft features.
"And... did you make it? Are you going to participate?"
"YEAH!!! I just said that- weren't you listening?"
"Of course! It all just- sort of blended together. I bet you'll do great." Somehow Baxter's expression gained a little extra shine. He's just the sweetest…
"I hope so. Man, there's a chance that I could be on the team long-term."
That was actually news to the maned wolf perched on the edge of the bed. His ears pricked up slightly. "Woah, what?"
"They choose the competitors based on who ranks into the top five."
"But- aren't there-"
"I'm getting to that!" Baxter plopped down next to Manny, causing the bed to bounce and sag, nearly knocking the scrawny wolf off. "Yeah, there are eight competitors- but that's the challenge. You have to at least rank as the fifth best eater in order to stay on the team on tour. That's why there was an opening. Dude- imagine if I ranked fifth- maybe even fourth! I'd be able to travel with them!"
The thought jumped to the back of Manny's throat that it was harder than it looked. His knowledge of the... etiquette of eating contests is limited, but he knows those competitors are experienced. They pull incredible feats, and not on accident. Rather than explaining this, though... he just smiled.
"Sounds exciting."
"Yup."
"So... you doing any prep work before you go up there?"
Manny's question lingered with Baxter right up until he was standing at the head of the audience. Yes, he's starving right now. He hadn't touched anything but water for the last twelve hours. His poor stomach gave a pitiful gurgle to punctuate his misery. There was no time for remorse, and he would be more than full in just a few minutes. He just had to hold out until-
"Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado," When did the announcer get on stage?! Baxter felt his posture stiffen, a little jolt of shock shooting up his spine and down his arms. Boy, he must have really been spacing. "...our competitors!"
Baxter nearly crashed into the deer next to him as he made a move towards the stairs to the stage. "Sorry!" They were a little disgruntled, but just turned their head slightly and let him pass without a fuss. Thank goodness. A bit more squeezing through the crowd and it felt like he appeared suddenly on stage. It was difficult to keep his hands from shaking as he looked over the crowd.
"And the competitors are in place! You may be witnessing history, folks, there are records set to be broken, and a first place prize to claim!"
In the excitement of the moment Baxter hadn't looked over his competition while he was in the audience. He might as well know what he’s up against. To his left were four variously sized anthros, some looking more confident than others, and to his right were three others. Farthest to the left was a rather muscular looking bull, who had a calm, yet somehow cocky half-sneer on his snout. He looked miles more confident than Baxter felt. To the bull’s right was a short grey cat who’s large golden eyes darted wildly across the crowd. Beside the cat was an otter with a straight posture, arms folded over their chest. Next to Baxter was a fox who leaned heavily on their left hip. They had a bored look in their eyes. The three anthros to his right were all familiar. They clearly came from nearby towns- they all looked just as nervous as he felt.
“Now, I presume you all read the fliers around, seeing as you’re here, but in case you missed the memo...” The announcer waved someone over from stage right. On que, a long cart pulled by two anthros was wheeled on stage, revealing eight piles of bun-laden sausages and huge bottles of ketchup and mustard. “Today’s challenge is centered around the prime choice of hot dogs!” The announcer waited for the cheers to die down before he waved again and the two anthros started to distribute the plates. As soon as the first plates were lifted off the cart Baxter felt his knees weaken, his mouth filled with drool, and it took effort to hear what the announcer said next over his senses.
“So here’s how today’s show’s going to go. Each contestant will have ten minutes to eat and keep down as much as they can! It’s simple, it’s entertaining, and I don’t know about you all, but I can’t wait to see the results of this crew.” Once again, the audience cheered, but Baxter hardly heard. All he could see was the pile of hot dogs in front of him, the steam coming off the sausages. The only thing holding him back from going in head first was the timer, and the fact that some part of him knew he was still being watched.
Baxter took a deep breath in. He was breathing hot dog... it smelled perfect. And strong. The chefs didn’t cheap out- these things clearly had more to them than your run-of-the-mill five dollar package. They weren’t spicy, as some fancier sausages came, but they were made with those same meats that come so well in spicier tones. Spicy or no, they would go perfect with the massive bottle of stone-ground mustard just inches away from his plate.
He almost didn’t hear the countdown, but the loud buzzing sound of the timer snapped him back just enough to snatch the mustard, pop the cap with a claw, and hurriedly squeeze a thick strip on one of the topmost ‘dogs. In a split-second decision he continued to butter up his plate, not even thinking about why. His stomach ached and yearned for the food in front of it... he couldn’t wait any longer.
Both relief and even more intense desperate need overwhelmed him with the first bite. The sausage popped in his mouth between his teeth, mustard teased the roof of his mouth, and soft, squishy bun pressed against his cheeks. Suddenly, one bite had turned into three and then five, but who was keeping count? Baxter only paused his feast when he bit down on a ‘dog with no mustard, surprised he had run out of the dressed ones so fast. They were still flavorful without the condiment...
With that settled there was nothing stopping him from grabbing one hot dog in each hand and cramming as much as a ‘dog and a half in his mouth at once. Soggy bun squished through his teeth as he chewed. Not that he chewed for long, his poor stomach needed to be accommodated for the calories he missed out on yesterday. Now.
Once Baxter reached down for a ‘dog, pawing the plate with confusion and wondering why there was nothing to grab, but wasn’t confused for long as another was set down on top of it with a pile just as large. Not giving much thought to it, Baxter resumed his rather frantic pace. It was a relay race for his hands to get as much food possible in his gullet while he still felt somewhat good.
The time window for feeling good didn’t last much longer, though. He had hardly cleared anything off the plate when his stomach gave a lurch and he had to hold off swallowing to process the issue. A heavy weight was pressing against the bottom of his ribcage, a low ache had crept up on him while he was too busy thinking about taste and texture. It was okay... Baxter closed his eyes for a few moments and swallowed a little slower. There was an uncomfortable travelling lump sensation as he felt the large piece of food go down... but he knew he still had room.
He took another two hot dogs in both hands and exhaled slowly before cramming one in his muzzle. The drool pooling around his teeth felt suddenly hot and sickening. The marvellous pile of food had gone sour. It was a heavy swallow to get that one down, and Baxter had to take another deep breath to force himself to bring the other one to his mouth. He didn’t get the chance to put it in, though, as suddenly a hand was around his shoulder and he was being tugged away.
His now painfully full stomach lurched as he was shuffled up to the front of the stage. Blinking in confusion, lights popping in front of his eyes, he was held there for a moment or two before he was pushed off by those arms and taken by a stronger pair. Baxter only had the awareness to walk down the steps, accidentally dropping his last hot dog on the way down, and stumble through muffled sounds with the support of whoever the arms belonged to.