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Feasting (Random Writing for MeltingFoxy)
🕑 Added 2020-09-04 14:05:58 +0000 UTC
It did take most of her morning, and left her a sweaty, barely-able-to-breathe mess, but it was done. A sumptuous feast awaited her in the middle of her kitchen, several tables brought together purely for the sake of holding it all at a convenient enough height that she didn’t need to worry about moving around or adjusting her position. All that was needed was for her to sit her plump butt down on one of those chairs, extend her arms forward and let instincts kick in; as soon as the first bit of food touched the tip of her tongue, then her brain would be running on auto-pilot.
It was important for the rat to gorge herself properly, hence the repast she prepared for herself, for Foxy had a date later that night. Well, “date” was perhaps pushing the definition just a bit too far; it was more like a restaurant outing, except instead of a fancy dining room it was wherever she collapsed from exhaustion after eating several times her body weight in food, and instead of a dinner it’d be a very big, very fat mouse. Honestly, it was quite a good comparison, assuming one was willing to overlook the whole predator-prey duality of it all; Foxy sure was, hence why her mouth was watering not at the prospect of losing herself in a literal ton of lunch, but at the idea that all of it was naught but stuffing for the real meal she had planned for later that day.
The rattie looked down at herself, feeling slightly disappointed with how much she’d let herself go in the previous few weeks. Hard work and very breaks had left her looking something less than a blob, and in many ways her body looked to be somewhere along the way to becoming fit again, a travesty that hadn’t been wrought upon her for several years at that point. She was still able to sink her hands into her belly or ass, of course, and there were enough fat rolls to the former that they formed a small stack, but she could actually see her feet if she bent down enough, and that was just absolutely unacceptable; it wouldn’t do for her to present herself like that, how was her playmate going to survive on such a sparse meal? Better to make sure she was nice, plump and full for when she came knocking later that night.
Hence, the meal.
Everything was in there, from the staple vegetables to far more meat than would ever be considered remotely acceptable for one person to eat in a single sitting. Honey-glazed, regular-glazed, chocolate-and-caramel-glazed, it was all there; hell, she had a table exclusively for desserts and it was probably the biggest one of the bunch, conveniently located on one edge of the arrangement so she’d have to make a mess of herself just to get there, precisely in order to cover herself with as much of the sauces as she could without literally bathing in them. Wouldn’t be the first time that happened, but it was too much of a hassle if her would-be predator ended up getting cold feet.
She huffed, clearing her throat and rubbing her hands together. There would be no need for forks or knives in that feast, only her own two hands digging into everything that was within sight. She was lucky her body was as malleable and easy to stuff as it was; anyone else would’ve quit after finishing the first roast, especially after one considered there were a good five pounds of potatoes in that thing, but to Foxy it was just an appetizer. Her stomach growled and rumbled loudly enough for her to feel it, but it wasn’t uncomfortable; if anything, it was her body letting her know how grateful it was that she went back to her old habits, having gone without a good overboard gorging session for far too long. The meals vanished into her waiting gullet, her very body groaning as it was forced to process absurd amounts of calories, working overtime to ensure they were all turned into delicious, savoury pudge.
It was all part of the plan, really; what was the point of having such an hyperactive metabolism if not to thoroughly exploit it to the best of her ability? The rat didn’t have to constantly binge just to start gaining some pounds; sit at a table and eat for long enough and she’d be ripping through clothing like nobody’s business just an hour or two in, and that was with a regular meal size! With the banquet she arranged for herself, the rattie was already looking like she had been a few months prior, with her torso appearing to be glued onto a lower body that belonged to someone much, much larger than her; it made for the perfect seat once she got through the first couple of tables, with her only really needing to lean forward the tiniest bit in order to reach for more food. Her belly came next, taking in the infusion of mass about as well as her ass and thighs had, spilling over her legs and very quickly reaching the ground; in fact, if it weren’t for that bloated gut, poor Foxy would’ve had to walk over to the next table, rather than just tipping herself forward and allowing her undulating body to carry her close enough to where her stubby fingers could start devouring the next course.
Once the main meals were done, it was time for the desserts, and just as expected she was already practically immobile from everything else. Her head, neck, arms and legs were already melting into a ton of rat-fat, leaving her with very little room to move around, let alone bring food to her mouth. This was obviously quite terrible, hence why she still tried her best to stuff as much of it into her as she could; the end result of course being that her whole face turned into a mess of chocolate, frosting and caramelized sugar, smelling quite nicely at the end and giving her something to lick at when the last of puddings were thrown down her maw. By the end, everything was consumed and the floor was a mess of scraps, sauces and the odd broken plate, while Foxy herself was… unrecognizable.
She let out a burp, all the stored-up gas finally erupting upwards when she, goodness knows how, managed to heave herself up into a sitting position, shaking the whole kitchen in the process. Amazingly, her head was only about a foot from the ceiling, despite the fact she hadn’t grown an inch; the throne of fat that she was sitting on, the body she had made for herself, gave her so much new perspective that a part of her wished it didn’t have to be eaten. The rolling hills of pudge, the way her hands vanished into her arms and had to be carefully navigated around just so she could grab at her own body, how her field of view was warped by her neckfat and her puffy cheeks. It was all just… perfect.
But being perfect meant she had responsibilities, responsibilities towards the person she did all of that for. The rat hadn’t gone and stuffed herself silly just to appease some inner desire (though that did sound nice now that she thought about it), but to provide the best possible meal for her playmate later that day. And as a good, obedient little mouse dish, she knew it wasn’t just the taste that mattered, but the presentation; it was only then that she regretted setting the meals up in the kitchen, because now she had several hours in which to roll and squeeze her way into her living room. For a few minutes she considered the option of simply barrelling through the wall; she was certainly big and heavy enough to do it, and no one was going to really care once her dinner date was over. But that would probably leave her covered in cuts, scratches and, perhaps most importantly, dust and rubble; and the last thing anyone wanted to eat was bits of concrete or plaster.
Thus, Foxy resolved to do things the old-fashioned way: by slowly moving from side to side, sliding her body towards the nearest door, and then spending goodness knows how long trying to squeeze through it. She had to do so one limb at a time; trying to get her whole body through at once was just sheer madness, and would most likely get her stuck. The upside to it is that the physical exertion left her so exhausted that she was a sweaty, drenched mess barely one arm into the whole thing; she could barely see with the amount of water dripping in front of her eyes, her whole body screaming at her to stop trying to squeeze it, lest something terrible happen to it. Resolute, Foxy ignored the warnings; she was going to turn herself into a proper meal, darnit!
She popped out the other side with enough pressure to roll around onto her flanks and end up marooned atop of her own fat, her upper torso on such a weird angle that Foxy had to take a few moments just to figure out where exactly she was supposed to be situated. Somehow, the rattie was practically upside down, sticking out the mountain of flab next to a wall; this realization made her blush so heavily that it only made the sweating worse, as the sudden knowledge of just how colossally overweight and stuffed her body had become left her thinking of a great many things, none of which were remotely wholesome. Off in the distance, Foxy heard her alarm go off, signalling she only had one hour before Annabelle would arrive; and seeing how the cat had a key to her house, she wouldn’t be waiting too long before barging in.
This gave the rat the energy to force herself into the living room, though not necessarily the speed or grace required to go along with it. It was less a glorious sprint towards a final destination and more her haphazardly waddling from side to side while her mountainous weight jiggled and wobbled aggressively with each motion, which only served to make her arousal that much worse; by the time the poor girl was putting the finishing touches to her presentation, her “Eat Me” shirt was already stained dark pink by the shower of sweat it had been put under, her whole body glistening thanks to it as well. Poor thing could barely even breathe, as her lungs had taken such an immense beating from all the physical exercise that each breath came out ragged and labored… not that she could do anything about that. She’d just have to hold there and wait until her dinner date arrived, though mercifully she didn’t have to wait long.
Annabelle’s heavy steps were audible even from all the way down on the ground floor, though her voice certainly helped when she “kahndly” informed the guard at the front desk that she had business upstairs with her “better half”. The old man wasn’t going to put his life on the line trying to say no to a cat that outweighed him by several orders of magnitude and yet managed to move unimpeded like a much lighter individual, so he wisely sat down and allowed Annabelle to pass. Her thundering mass made a right mess of the stairs up to Foxy’s apartment, leaving a handful of cracks in her wake and even bending part of the rails hard enough that they’d need a replacement; nothing that the rat had to worry about, as her night’s end was fast approaching.
Despite having a key, the feline chose not to use the door. At least not traditionally; one moment there was a door, the other there was a very large hole where said door used to be, replaced with a pink cat with a very wide, very toothy smile. It was simultaneously the most amazing and yet most terrifying thing Foxy had ever seen in her life, but the knowledge that soon enough those chompers would be closing around her stuffed body made it so much easier to accept things. This is what she had always wanted, and now that Annabelle was there, they could get ready to take things to a whole new level.
Wouldn’t be the first time Foxy tried to do this. Half the reason she was so fat even without the feasting was precisely because of all the other attempts at being eaten having gone wrong; either her would-be predator chickened out at the last moment or they weren’t nearly as stretchy and flexible as they claimed to be, leaving the rattie to work off the excess weight while feeling immensely disappointed. But she had a good feeling about that cat, and not just because the duality with her being a big mouse; Annabelle had shown herself to have both a voracious appetite and the body to go along with it, capable of swelling to several times its size if it meant devouring a particularly savoury meal… or twenty. Foxy had made up her mind when she saw the cat on the news after a feeding frenzy, where she’d not only emptied out multiple houses’ worth of food, but multiple houses’ worth of people too; sure, they were willing and even helped set everything up, but it was still impressive nonetheless.
“Dahling, ah I have to say,” the feline purred, waddling towards her with as much grace as Foxy herself had demonstrated beforehand, “you’ve truly outdone yourself. Ah wasn’t expectin’ such a… sumptuous feast to present itself, but now ah’m quite glad to have taken you up on your offer~!”
“Pleasure’s al-bwuuurp!-a-all mine!” the rattie replied, the sudden burp leaving her even more blushy than before, “Sorry for the mess, I jus-”
“Dahling, please,” Annabelle cut through, raising a finger to shush the rat, “the time fer talk’s long gone. All that’s needed of ya is to sit nice and quietly, lakh a good lil’ prey animal~”
Magic words for Foxy’s ears, which perked up so hard on hearing them they practically jumped off her skull. The rattie’s smile melted into a broken, shattered mess as her lust took over, her eyes half-lidded and her body turned to mush as every muscle she had relaxed at once. It was finally time, she had finally found someone willing to go through with it and had the ability to do so… and she was thoroughly stuffed. The feline barely had the opportunity to lay her hands on Foxy’s form before the latter experienced the biggest pleasure crash wave rocking her body, the mere thought of having turned herself into a stuffed meal enough to set her off. By the time that cat’s paws were sinking into her pudge, she was already spent; anything that happened afterwards was nothing more than a bonus.
The last thing Foxy saw was her predator’s wide-open mouth, its jaw practically unhinged as it forced itself to swallow the colossal meal that was the rattie’s body. Despite Annabelle’s insistence that she would be devoured “in a single bite, love~”, it still took her a few tries before everything went down properly; the rat had done one hell of a number on her own body, and even someone as experienced as the feline had trouble gobbling up everything she had to offer. Foxy, meanwhile, was simply enjoying her trip down the tight, pulsating interior of her pred’s body, feeling her whole form be slowly swallowed up and caressed on every side by a warm softness she could never have imagined ever feeling. It was like going to bed on a massage chair, except it was literally everywhere and refused to stop, constantly prodding and poking at her until she was close to reaching her edge just moments after crossing it. The rattie was barely halfway down Annabelle’s throat before she squeaked, her voice cutting short in her throat as another shockwave coursed through her, face redder than ever… not that anyone would be able to see it.
A few more moments was all it took before she emerged into her final destination: the immense, vast and cavernous stomach of that pink cat. Foxy’s pred was already feeling the regret bubbling up inside of her when she slurped up the tip of her meal’s tail, rubbing her titanic belly with both hands and groaning at how much her insides were being forced to stretch out just to accomodate for her snack. Typically, she’d eat a lot more before trying for anything of that caliber, but the night’s encounter had been a challenge for her as much as it had been for Foxy; one she was seriously regretting taking now that she could barely even get up, let alone walk back home. At least her meal was happy about things, if all the noises coming from inside of her were any indication; it was hard to tell which ones were the rattie moaning like the gut slut she was, her stomach growling because of all the movement and rubbing she was just subjected to, or the feline’s own body complaining loudly thanks to being forced to take in such a massive meal in a handful of gulps. Whatever the case, Annabelle sighed and did her best to try and get up, hoping to be home within the following two days.
Inside of her, Foxy was settling in for whatever might come. She was completely lost inside of her own fat; her pred’s stomach was large, but it was still cramped enough that her body doubled up on itself and forced her to plunge into her own belly. It was a testament to how bloated it was that she didn’t feel the slightest amount of discomfort; in fact, she could go for a second meal just to stuff herself more thoroughly.
But for now, she slept; it’d take a while to digest.
