I've been playing a little too much pocket camp lately and maybe, maaaybe I get just a little irritated when I work hard on a contest only to have it swept out cause I didn't have time to dedicate myself to an app game for hours. Maybe!! But I'm back at it again with more animal crossing stuffing so please take the time to enjoy this one!

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You outright refused to believe it.

You’d spent the last few hours of your day fishing by the waterfall and you had the nets to show for it-each bag still wriggling with your many catches of the day-a feast of early winter salmon and trout that begged for the coals of a nice open bonfire.

You wouldn’t have minded doing so much hard work for a meal that nice...if it hadn’t been for the fact that such a feast wasn’t ever in the cards. “Sorry sport! I reckon you’re just a might too late for the deadline! I’ll be heading out by nightfall I think!”

This beaver, Chip, had become your biggest enemy and your guiltiest pleasure over his last few visits. His fishing contests had brought new life to your campground, literally reeling in the customers and bringing you something fun to do on your offtime. A fishing contest wasn’t anything special, but it was the way Chip went about doing it that really drew the eye and moistened your lips.

Chip was a glutton. That much could be made out from the moment you first met him-and your eyes immediately trailed down to land on his wobbling, furry potbelly while he’d set his pole in the sand to shake your hand. If there was one thing Chip loved more in this world then fishing, it was devouring his prizes. Whole. And fresh enough to wriggle and slosh in his gut for some vague chance of escape.

Big fish, little fish, spiky fish, shrimp, lobsters-they all vanished down that greedy gullet in no time flat and would end up pooling onto his waistline like water down a swimsuit. And for the most part, he seemed to relish it. From the sloshing of his guts to the drawn out, wet belches that erupted from him after every mouthful...to put it simply, it was hot as hell.

But you liked it for other aspects too-mainly those adorable fish tank prizes. Those were a delight, absolutely. You had a whole room back at the cabin made up like a little aquarium and it was missing a lovely little salmon tank that you were now being denied after working so, so hard for the last few hours. Hell, Chip had seen you dragging up the nets yourself! He had to know!!!

You must have looked upset enough, cause Chip seemed to falter in his explanation, “Aw cmon now, don’t cry, don’t cry…” You could hear a soft rumble as his eyes trailed down to the squirming nets at your side, and he seemed to sigh, giving a smile, “Tell you what-lemme see whatcha got here and if we got enough, I’ll let you slide with coming in late, eh? How’s about it?”

Blinking, your frustration turned to surprise as he pawed through the bag, lifting up the first hefty salmon and looking it over with a critical eye. “Hmmm...I’d put this one at about….thirty centimeters! Not bad, not bad one bit!” His head tilted back, going tail-first into his mouth as he lowered and swallowed with the air of an expert on the subject. And you got to watch that first salmon slide so easily down his throat, landing with a slosh down into his chubby belly. A salmon that big would’ve satisfied any normal fella easily. But Chip was already going for his second.

Every fish he held up and examined he seemed to know by eye just how long it was, chalking it away in his own head before doing the same thing he did before: swallowing the fish down whole to let it writhe and wriggle in his gut. And god what a gut it was. Bulged out at odd points from his fish dinner and only getting bigger with each new prize he added to it. Soft layers of packed on blubber unfolding and expanding around the catch like his belly was a filling net. When his legs grew unsteady, he simply sat back on his cooler and rubbed over his stomach, breathing in slow and letting out a mighty “HURROOURP!!”

Chip laughed, patting a paw over his gut, “Well well! You caught quite a bit in that first net!! Lucky duck! You might get close to that goal of yours after all! But we ain’t finished judging yet, right?” His hungry eyes went to the second bag, the one shifting even harder given how recent most of the catches were. “My movement’s a little impaired though...ya mind?”

Absolutely you didn’t. Dragging the bag over the soft grass, you quickly reached in for that first salmon-watching the twinkle in Chip’s eyes as he licked over his lips, somehow still hungry despite sporting a beach-ball sized gut full of fish. It was a testament to how much these fishing contests had added to his ample waistline, no doubt, and probably years of doing it to his own catches overtime. But he still had that critical eye, reading off the centimeters like he was reading it etched into their scales before letting you lower it into his mouth, watching his throat bulge with it, trailing your hand down its path to settle where it settled in his stomach and feeling it clench just slightly, bringing up another fruit-shaking belch up the beaver’s throat. “Hooof! Excuse me! Well c’mon, keep going!”

You let Chip read off the centimeters but you were only half paying attention. Your eyes were locked on his stomach, watching the subtle undulations of whole, healthy fish twitch inside, watching the way every new one caused his stomach to grow out several inches at a time, the way his appetite didn’t seem bothered in the least by the impact this was sure to have on him. Still shotgunning fish like he’d only just begun and relishing the taste of each. He was belching a lot more though, no doubt trying to free up any air he swallowed with the tasty morsels, and you could see his stomach compact and twitch whenever he did-see the outlines of all those fish crammed into one titanic belly.

One last salmon-the biggest one you’d caught all day-struggling with hefting it up yourself. You could see Chip’s eyes bulge in amazement, “Holy smokes!! What a whopper!! Two hundred centimeters!!!” He waved you on, “C’mon bring it here, bring it here!! I gotta taste this beauty!”

Even you, despite how much this entire session had turned you on, couldn’t help but give a vague look of worry at how full he looked already, but he waved you off with a paw and a huff. “C’monnnn…”

Well, he asked for it! And so you gave-bringing over the salmon head-first to cram between his fuzzy lips. You could see his eyes roll back, both at the thickness and the taste of the fresh fish, moving them to it to start guiding down towards his throat. It slipped an inch at a time with your careful maneuvering, watching him swallow slow, then tilt his head back for better ease of access. His stomach clenched and quivered, maybe starting to feel the strain of such a binge on the near horizon, but if Chip noticed, he ignored it. He was entirely lost to the feeling of choking down such a massive fish. As the thickness of its body tapered to its tail and bulged obscenely in his throat, he panted through whatever space he had available in his mouth. You pulled back your hands, watching him gulp and strain, and finally get it down with a wet ‘POP!’ to slosh into his overpacked guts.

His stomach gave a low, warning rumble as it swelled, bigger and bigger, looking almost too tight, before he tilted his head back and let out the longest one yet: BURRRRRRRORURRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPP!!

Chip pants, clapping a paw on the side of his belly and wobbling it as gentle as he could, “Boy, you really were fishing up a storm today, huh kiddo? Been a while since I packed away this much goodness…” He gave a slight grimace, and at first you thought maybe it was from the tummy ache coming on before he laughed, “But um...afraid you might just be a bit...just a smidge too short for the tank.”

Ah, there’s that frustration. Where’d you been all this time, huh? “I really appreciate it though-I mean I was drooling over that bag of yours, watching it fill up all day, but uh-” ...Hold on. The way he was talking it...it almost sounded like he knew you wouldn’t make it in time. That he could have you at his mercy, basically hand-feeding his fatass till he’d have to be rolled into his own tent. This guy KNEW you wouldn’t get the prize you wanted!!

Oh that son of a-

“But thanks for tryin’! I’ll be sure to give you more warning next con-Eh?” Chip blinked at the question, “Am I thirsty?...Well...a little, yeah!” He’d perked up, smiling in a way that showed off his cute buck teeth, “You got a coke or something, kiddo?”

In no time flat, you’d run to your camper-the sound of pots and pans and other equipment banging and shifting around before you’d returned-a garden hose clenched in your hand. Chip blinked at that, but he quickly smiled as you brought it over for him, gripping it in his paws, “A drink from the hose? Man oh man, haven’t had one of those since I was a kid! Course I’ll get it on my vest but-MMPH?!” He glanced up at you shoving it down his throat, brows tilted up in confusion. But not suspicion yet.

Which gave you the chance to run back to your camper, crank the cold water on high, and run back in time to watch him smile and start to dutifully glug, paws going back to rest on his belly. You could just see it on his face-he probably assumed you just shoved it in there to make things easier on himself, to let him drink with no worries of a pesky gag reflex coming up. You, on the other hand, had a bit bigger plans in mind.

The bumps and folds of those fish within him gradually began to disappear, making way for a smoothed over belly that stood out-sloshing with every gulp he took. It began to surpass its beach-ball size and go right into yoga-ball territory, the heft of it slowly pulling, pulling… until with a resounding slosh he’d landed belly-first on the ground. And now you could see him starting to look a little worried, glancing up at you with a nervous smile on his face.

As his stomach had grown, so had the distance between those little paws and his mouth, his struggles to grab the hose in vain as he kept looking up at you with growing anxiety. But you weren’t really in a merciful mood. You rolled him over, planting his butt down and letting his flat tail do the balancing for you, watched him grope at his own belly. They must be confused, his face seemed to say, Maybe if I let them know I’m full…

He clapped his paws against his belly, watched the skin ripple like an overfilled water balloon as he shook his head at you. When you just smiled, the look of sudden dread on his face made all those hours of fishing and the soreness in your casting arm absolutely worth it.

Those rolls of fat had kept on stretching, filling out into his love handles and making his whole body begin to go completely round. His belly moved from every heavy gulp he took to avoid drowning, but also from all those live fish. They’d unspooled from their cluster in his gut and took advantage of all the water flooding in, beginning to swim around in his massive belly.

His fur had begun to part and thin out, and you smiled as you could start to see it through his creaking, groaning skin-hand upon the cool surface as you easily watched that massive salmon swim by, tail flicking irritably in your direction. That’s it, that’s it. Just a little more…

Chip was quickly running out of room. He didn’t even know he was this stretchy, feeling his vest groan and tear at his back, the swelling of his hands and legs, becoming soon no longer able to even paw desperately at his belly. Gulp, gulp, gulp, ulp, urk, gulp…You watched his panicked eyes start to lose their luster-maybe finally realized what sort of trap he’d walked into and accepted the inevitable. Or it could be that his neck and cheeks had begun to bloat and swell, putting pressure on his skull till his eyes threatened to pop out, sent his body quivering, almost ready to tear.

That’s when you chose to pull the hose out and let him cough up some of that water. Just enough to balance out the pressure before you tied a bandanna firmly around his mouth to trap the rest inside. His pleading, watery eyes glanced to you with a mix of betrayal, fear, and pangs from his massively rotund stomach threatening to give out. But you weren’t paying much heed to him. You were on the phone, looking at your nails as you leaned back on the cool, sloshy surface, a simple request in mind.

“Eh? What do I know about building fish tanks?” Cyrus’ voice came through on one end, “Can’t say I know much...but I am eager to try! But uh, Chip might know a little more then me on the subject. You can’t ask him?”

Oh you would...but...Chip was sorta pinned down at the moment.