Hey Readers,
Continuing where both I and the movie left off in my first story Templeton’s Smorgasbord, here’s an imagining of what Templeton’s up to at the fairgrounds through the next morning when he visits Charlotte and Wilbur. You can expect more feasting, more growing, and a deeper dive into Templeton’s inner-monologue as he discovers how good it feels to get obscenely huge. Enjoy!
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As Templeton waddled off to continue his gorging, still getting used to how hugely stuffed the banana made him, his gait was slow, unsteady, and fighting against gravity. His swollen and distended belly, now the size of a softball, swayed side to side with each step of his stubby feet. He could feel its weight dragging him forward, tugging at his back, forcing his spine into a permanent arch just to balance it.

He didn’t want this feeling to end.

Every bounce and jostle of his bloated gut filled him with pride. He felt like a balloon in a parade float, his engorged stomach a monument to his excess.

“Ughhh,” he groaned, with awe, “I’m truly a sight. Soon to be an even BIGGER marvel with the rest of these goodies inside me.”

His paws reached down to cup the underside of his gut, lifting it slightly, only for it to drop again with a plop against his thighs. The sensation was addictive. The pressure, the tightness, the way his skin stretched to accommodate the sheer volume of food inside him, how it gurgled and glorped with every movement was pleasure he never thought possible.

“Let the others fuss about moder-HIC-ation,” he muttered. “I’ve found my calling. To glut like there’s no tomorrow.”

And with that, he lumbered on, giddy and food-drunk, his gut sloshing audibly, towards rows of picnic tables littered with leavings. His eyes were set on his first target; a tray of untouched corn dogs.

He moaned as he lowered himself, belly down on the dirt, then eagerly stuffed the first one into his mouth, hardly chewing. It went down easily. Then another. And another.

Gulp. HIC. Gulp. HIC. Gulp. URP.

He couldn’t slow down despite the increasing pressure in his gut. Not when it feels this good. The food slid down, settling heavily atop everything else he’s already devoured. After swallowing down five, his stomach audibly gurgled. He felt a shift and a slosh so jarring that a sudden HIC-HILP escaped his throat, which caused his stomach to expand further outward, lifting him up a few inches higher off the ground.

“Ooohhhh,” he moaned, slinking onto his side with a hand resting atop his mound of a belly, made rounder from the corn dogs. He can feel the contents of his feasting resting on the ground out to his side, bubbling and churning away. With a loving pat of his stomach, he asked aloud “Why…why does this feel better the more I stuff inside me?”

Resting on his side, he sees under just one table over, are elephant ears, still sticky with cinnamon sugar. The only challenge now is how to move when you’re at least five times the rat you were less than thirty minutes ago and are too fat to see your hind paws. So Templeton did the only thing he thought he could do and began rocking back and forth to build some momentum.
The first heave didn’t get Templeton very far, he rocked to his side and his stomach, loudly squelching, barely lifted off the ground. Eyes on the prize of that sweet, succulent, fatty fried dough, Templeton heaved again making it a bit higher. The sensation of his gorge sloshing around him was as amusing to Templeton as it was pleasurable. With the third strong rocking motion his mountainous gut was now directly above him, a sight which made his heart sing. He could truly take in just how big he was, bloated beyond any creature known, and still with a craving for even more girth and greed.

But his bulging gut was only on top for a few seconds, until it began to topple over to the other side towards the elephant ears. With a deep, resounding glorp his stomach hit the ground again, and to Templeton’s chagrin he found himself with his back in the air resting on top of his stomach. Now picking up momentum, Templeton began rolling towards his target.
“Why waddle when I can let my gut do the rolling for me?” Templeton joked to himself.
Templeton continued to gain a bit of speed with each tumble, his belly bubbling and churning with each rotation, tickling his insides.

After a few more rolls he suddenly stopped with a PANG, and realized he’d hit a picnic table leg. His gut was sticking straight up again and his nose was pointed towards the sky. As Templeton tried to focus his eyesight above him, he noticed a large, round, shiny, object wobbling back and forth on the edge of the table, just above his ballooned belly.
“A caramel apple, eh? There’s room in here for you too” he said seductively patting the sides of his gut.

The apple kept wobbling, eventually tipping to its side and rolled off the end of the table. Templeton braced for impact as it bounced off his stomach back into the air and toward’s Templeton’s face. And of course, Templeton followed his instincts and did what he knows best.
He opened his maw, and with one loud gulp, the sweet and sticky apple bulged down his gullet and slid into the rest of his gorge with one deep GLORP. His belly suddenly exploded out in size above him even bigger, now the size of a soccer ball.

He laid still to savor this moment; the feeling of having just rapidly swelled again like after swallowing the banana. He embraced the heavy, full feeling now surging all over his body. 
“Yes…HIC-HILP, this is what I was meant for,” he groaned out of satisfaction. For a few moments, he allowed himself to lay flat, savoring the continuously new sensation of getting fatter. Fulfilled. Powerful, in a strange way. Like no one else could’ve eaten this much. Like his obscenely engorged stomach is proof of something other animals wouldn’t understand: freedom, abandon, defiance.

Templeton lifted his head from the ground to get a good look at himself, his massively round gut letting out a deep, syrupy, churning squelch like pudding being stirred in a balloon with every movement. He could hardly believe the size of his stomach, swollen and round as if he’d swallowed a whole Thanksgiving turkey. He squeezed the sides of his gut which gurgled and sloshed at the touch. 

“Oh, stomach,” he cooed lovingly, “I should have known you could handle anything, HIC-HILP, I stuff you with, and you still have room for more. Even when I’m not URP hungry, just greedy.”
His stomach audibly churned in response like a man jumping on a water bed as he rested his head back on the dirt. Looking to his right, he eyed a bowl of a melted hot fudge sundae, perfectly thick and warm, begging to be slurped down. He tried to shift, to adjust, to find a better angle to reach another bowl, but discovered he couldn’t. His limbs no longer answered. His belly had grown so massive, so dominating, that it pinned him in place.
His gluttony had won. It claimed him.

“I did it. Too stuffed to move,” he whispered, eyes fluttering. “Oh, this is HIC-HILP rich.”
And with that, Templeton closed his eyes, splayed his four paws out to let his engorged gut tower proudly above him, and drifted into a greasy, glorious food coma, dreaming of the morning when he can proudly show off his excessive girth to Charlotte and Wilbur.
As dawn began to spread across the sky, his eyelids fluttered awake. His belly still felt full, still stretched and round, but the intense pressure had shifted. Digestion had begun its work. What had once been a tight, sloshing dome of trimmings, fruit, corn dogs, and the banana and caramel apple that bloated him bigger than he thought possible, had softened. Settled. And expanded outward.

Templeton blinked, staring down at himself.

His stomach was still massive, about the size of a softball like after he gulped down the banana, but not all of it was the bloat of his gorge anymore. Beneath the swollen top of his belly now rested a soft, permanent mound of fat, heavy and pliable, spreading slightly to each side and tugging at his balance. He reached down with both paws, squeezing the doughy new underlayer, and let out a chortle.

“Well, well, well…looks like the fair left me a souvenir. Hic.”

He grunted and rolled to the side. His belly shifted with him, sloshing forward as he rocked himself upright. The movement was slow, clumsy, but at least he was moving again. He wobbled to his hind legs which trembled under the added mass. Every part of him felt thicker. Heavier. Softer.

He gave his newly fattened belly a firm pat. It jiggled. And jiggled. It didn’t stop jiggling.
“Well would you look at that…” he said with a grin. “Not just stuffed anymore, I’m built. Hic. Just wait until the other animals get a load of this.”

His first few steps were more like drunken stumbles. His belly now sagged lower than before, grazing the grass, pulling at his frame as his weight shifted. And with every step, he could feel the difference. His body carried the evidence of last night’s binge in both fullness and form as he waddled his way to pay Charlotte and Wilbur a visit.

—————

As the morning light peeked into the barn, Wilbur was already pacing, nervously glancing toward the path Templeton usually returns from.“Where is he? What if something happened? What if he got caught?”

Charlotte, calm as always, descended gracefully from the rafters of the barn. “Patience, Wilbur. Templeton’s always been a rat on his own time” she said knowingly.

A rustling sound came from the tall grass, and out waddled Templeton.

Or rather, out sloshed Templeton. His gait was wide, legs stiff and awkward beneath the undeniable weight of his new, globular body.

“I’m back, hic…did you miss little ol’ Templeton?”

Wilbur gasps. “Little old Templeton?! You…you’ve gotten so… big!”

Templeton winked smugly, hoisting his belly with a paw and giving it a proud jiggle. “You think I’m big now? You should’ve seen me before my stomach started digesting my binge. I glutted until I couldn’t move. Hic.” he says, waddling a little closer and flopping onto a hay bale with a groan. “Sandwiches, beer, hot dogs, corn dogs, and a whole watermelon, just to name a few, all met their fate in this gut of mine. Hic. I didn’t realize how much life I haven’t lived until I felt myself balloon to a size no rat has business being.”

Wilbur watched in fascination as Templeton closed his eyes, lost in the sensation. “Templeton…it sounds like you like being this huge?”

The rat chuckled, eyes still shut. “Like it? I adore it. I crave it now.”

He fixed Wilbur with a reverent look. “You see, my dear pig, every inch of this belly is a testament to who I am.”

He gave his gut a gentle pat, which responded with a soft squelch. “I live for pleasure. For indulgence. For gluttony. And there’s no greater pleasure than feeling yourself swell bigger and bigger with each greedy gulp of fatty, well-ripened leavings. Feeling the contents of your gluttony churning and sloshing around inside you. Every bite I took, every treat I couldn’t say no to ended up right here.” He lifted his belly and let it drop with a satisfied grin.

Wilbur blinked. “But doesn’t it hurt being that full? I sometimes get a tummy ache if I eat too much slop at once.”

Templeton chuckled. “Wilbur, my boy, this belly, ” he slapped it for emphasis, producing a soft gurgle and many jiggles, “isn’t a burden. It’s a tribute to my love of all things delicious and decadent.”

Charlotte raised a leg. “Well, I hope you’re proud of yourself, Templeton. You’ve eaten so much it’s now all you can think about.”

Templeton smirked. “Why shouldn’t I be proud? Everyone else lives under rules that hold them back. Why not gorge ‘til your belly leads the way and your paws are just along for the ride? Every swallow and slurp was a little act of rebellion. And this, his,” he leaned back, belly sloshing towards his snout,“is the result.”

Wilbur was still staring. “But won’t this level of gluttony catch up to you?”
Templeton let out a long, indulgent sigh. “That’s the dream, my friend. The bigger I get, the more I become myself. I used to eat to survive. Now, I eat to celebrate. This belly is proof I’ve lived on my terms.”

Charlotte chuckled disapprovingly, “You’ve turned your vices into virtues.”

“Exactly,” Templeton beamed. “Some see gluttony. I see freedom.”