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A commission for Blitz on Twitter! It's a sequel to this story here, featuring sudden and dramatic weight gain, gluttony, and boyfriend shenanigans. Here, Damien, finally losing most of the weight, trusts his two employees who have one brain cell between them with a very important package.
Carl felt there was little more he could do but sit and stare with increasing anxiety as Hank turned the statue around, looking for the source of the rattling. "Please be careful with that, dude! What if we…" the bear trailed off, as his eyes were drawn away from the statue, and down to Hank's middle.
"Augh, whatever this scent is, it is good stuff," Hank murmured. "I can practically taste burgers and like… I don't know, a peach milkshake?" The caracal took in another deep breath. Carl bit his lip, for his feline coworker was beginning to change. It was a small thing at first; the bear was half certain it was just a trick of the light, or perhaps Hank had been skipping out on his gym nights, but his belt started to look tighter. Then, as the caracal shifted around, he saw there was a slight jiggle to his step. The bear rubbed his eyes, shaking his head— was he just over tired, and had been seeing things? No— the normally trim and fit feline was growing rounder, softer— fatter?
"Uhm… Hank?" Carl cleared his throat.
The caracal lowered the statue in his hands to look at the bear. "Carl, relax. I'm not going to… hm." The feline reached down to tug at his body armor; it must have started to feel a little tight. "Anyways," he grunted, shifting the statue in his hands. "What's your problem now? I've almost got it."
"Hank, look at yourself! You're getting bigger— you're blowing up!"
The feline's eyes boggled as he glanced down, and as he shifted his body, he began to see soft, pliable rolls of flesh straining his shirt and pressing against the straps of his body armor. "Qu'est que cette merde?!"
Hank whined plaintively, feeling the tightness of his body armor as the straps began to creak, and his newfound belly began to press forward, billowing out into a proper, butterball gut. The caracal panicked, tossing the statue to Carl, who instinctively caught it, letting out a gasp.
"Wh-what… I don't understand!" Hank said, grunting as the tightness of his body armor now made it hard to catch his breath. He kept the statue tucked under one arm as he hastily and desperately undid the straps of his body armor, and that was all his belly needed to shove forward, pushing his arms slightly to the side as a tell-tale sound of tearing cloth made the caracal's ears flatten. His face fell as he looked over his shoulder, seeing that his pants had split while his rear had filled out as well, now bouncing softly with each stop. "Gah!"
He panicked, and tossed the statue in the air. Carl gasped, instinctively leaping into action to catch the statue, only just catching it as he breathed a sigh of relief. "Careful!"
"You want me to be careful?!" Hank nearly shrieked, the feline wincing as one of the buttons of his shirt clattered on the floor. "Look at me, Carl! I'm blowing up like a balloon!" He grabbed either side of his new, hefty belly, giving it a firm shake— it wobbled with a worrying sense of heft and weight. "Oh mon dieu, this isn't— I-I thought I was getting bloated or something, this is… this feels like actual weight! H-how is this happening?!"
Carl tucked the statue under his burly arm, gently approaching the panicking feline. "Look, uhm, i-it's alright, we can figure this out…" The bear offered a crooked smile, shrugging his broad shoulders. "You carry the weight pretty well, all things considered."
"I carry the weight well?!" Hank shouted, tearing off his body armor and smacking Carl's side with it. "I shouldn't be carrying it at all! I-I diet, I work out, I do all the things you're supposed to do, bon sang!"
Carl felt there was little more he could do but sit and stare with increasing anxiety as Hank turned the statue around, looking for the source of the rattling. "Please be careful with that, dude! What if we…" the bear trailed off, as his eyes were drawn away from the statue, and down to Hank's middle.
"Augh, whatever this scent is, it is good stuff," Hank murmured. "I can practically taste burgers and like… I don't know, a peach milkshake?" The caracal took in another deep breath. Carl bit his lip, for his feline coworker was beginning to change. It was a small thing at first; the bear was half certain it was just a trick of the light, or perhaps Hank had been skipping out on his gym nights, but his belt started to look tighter. Then, as the caracal shifted around, he saw there was a slight jiggle to his step. The bear rubbed his eyes, shaking his head— was he just over tired, and had been seeing things? No— the normally trim and fit feline was growing rounder, softer— fatter?
"Uhm… Hank?" Carl cleared his throat.
The caracal lowered the statue in his hands to look at the bear. "Carl, relax. I'm not going to… hm." The feline reached down to tug at his body armor; it must have started to feel a little tight. "Anyways," he grunted, shifting the statue in his hands. "What's your problem now? I've almost got it."
"Hank, look at yourself! You're getting bigger— you're blowing up!"
The feline's eyes boggled as he glanced down, and as he shifted his body, he began to see soft, pliable rolls of flesh straining his shirt and pressing against the straps of his body armor. "Qu'est que cette merde?!"
Hank whined plaintively, feeling the tightness of his body armor as the straps began to creak, and his newfound belly began to press forward, billowing out into a proper, butterball gut. The caracal panicked, tossing the statue to Carl, who instinctively caught it, letting out a gasp.
"Wh-what… I don't understand!" Hank said, grunting as the tightness of his body armor now made it hard to catch his breath. He kept the statue tucked under one arm as he hastily and desperately undid the straps of his body armor, and that was all his belly needed to shove forward, pushing his arms slightly to the side as a tell-tale sound of tearing cloth made the caracal's ears flatten. His face fell as he looked over his shoulder, seeing that his pants had split while his rear had filled out as well, now bouncing softly with each stop. "Gah!"
He panicked, and tossed the statue in the air. Carl gasped, instinctively leaping into action to catch the statue, only just catching it as he breathed a sigh of relief. "Careful!"
"You want me to be careful?!" Hank nearly shrieked, the feline wincing as one of the buttons of his shirt clattered on the floor. "Look at me, Carl! I'm blowing up like a balloon!" He grabbed either side of his new, hefty belly, giving it a firm shake— it wobbled with a worrying sense of heft and weight. "Oh mon dieu, this isn't— I-I thought I was getting bloated or something, this is… this feels like actual weight! H-how is this happening?!"
Carl tucked the statue under his burly arm, gently approaching the panicking feline. "Look, uhm, i-it's alright, we can figure this out…" The bear offered a crooked smile, shrugging his broad shoulders. "You carry the weight pretty well, all things considered."
"I carry the weight well?!" Hank shouted, tearing off his body armor and smacking Carl's side with it. "I shouldn't be carrying it at all! I-I diet, I work out, I do all the things you're supposed to do, bon sang!"
Category Story / Fat Furs
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 115.9 kB
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