Templeton's arrival back at Lurvey's farm sent shockwaves across the rest of the animals. He was larger and rounder than any rat in barnyard history. It was now days after the fair but Templeton's appetite hadn't slowed down. Every meal became a feast, every gulp a celebration of his own gluttony. Even the smallest morsel made him fantasize about how much bigger he could be with just that much more inside him. He imagined each crust of bread or spoonful of slop expanding his already-swollen belly just a little further, testing its stretch, swelling him into new delightful dimensions.

He was proud and continually astonished that no matter how much he shoved down his gullet, his stomach welcomed it all by expanding with a deep, appreciative glorp, just like it did for the first banana he swallowed that was responsible for bloating him out obscenely huge for the first time, awakening the insatiable need to glut, feast, and grow.

Everything edible that he could swallow was just more heft he could add to himself.

His belly sloshed as he waddled across the farm looking for his next meal, his limbs straining to keep up with the slow, delicious wobble of his body. He reveled in every quiver, every shift of his own weight was a reminder that he had gorged with such abandon that his body had given way to gluttony in its purest, most glorious form. 

And Templeton thrived every chance he had to show his belly off.

He’d deliberately saunter through the barnyard making sure each step caused a jostle, a bounce, a wobble of his swollen gut. He’d slap his sides with glee, let out loud burps, and moan dramatically after every meal.

“Watch it jiggle, my friends,” he’d purr to the other animals, “it's okay to stare."

The other animals were half amazed, half appalled, yet endlessly entertained.

“Templeton,” squawked the goose, tilting her head as she circled him, “when I sent you off to the fair I never thought you'd BECOME the fair! Just how many veritable smorgasbord's have you eaten?"

"More than you'll ever have in your life, Goose. And yet, still not enough," Templeton sneered, patting his gut for dramatic effect.

“You look like a furry balloon with legs,” muttered the old cow, chewing her cud. "You keep this up and you'll be as big as me!"

"How dare you suggest I'll be as big as you, you old cow!" he snorted back, half offended. "I'll be even BIGGER.” The joke made the cow roll her eyes.

But the teasing was almost affectionate, not mean-spirited. The animals were fascinated by Templeton's transformation, especially as he seemed to revel in every new inch of wobbling fat and strained bloat. The more they poked fun, the more Templeton flaunted his size.

“Oh, tease away, it only makes me hungrier” he’d sigh, laying back against a hay bale while his gut surged outward, nearly covering his legs. “You only wish you could live like this.”

It wasn’t long before the animals began to hatch a scheme.

“He says he wants to get bigger,” whispered the goose, “and I say we give him what he wants.”

“A surprise feast?” asked Wilbur.

“Better,” said the goose, eyes narrowing with mischievous glee, “a feast he doesn’t even know he’s having. I say we put those gluttonous urges of his to the test; feed him so full, so constantly, that he balloons up bigger than he ever imagined. Let’s see what happens when he can’t waddle around showing off anymore. If he still loves it when he’s too round to move, too full to breathe, just a furry ball of belly pinned to the earth by his own indulgence.”

The goose huddled with the Wilbur and cow in the shade of the barn to iron out the details. "He always crashes after his third breakfast," the she said, rubbing her wings together. "That’s our moment. We wait until he flops under your trough like he always does, Wilbur, to beg for scraps."

"Then we'll stick a funnel in his mouth," the cow added thoughtfully. "And with your permission, Wilbur, tip the fresh slop right down that greedy rat's gullet."

"That rat needs to be taught a lesson of what unchecked gluttony can get you," Wilbur agreed, "If it means I lose one day's worth of breakfast, so be it. I'm tired of his begging and pleading for more, more, MORE, since we got back from the fair."

The plan was simple: Templeton would fall asleep in his usual bloated stupor beneath Wilbur’s trough. Once he was out, they’d nestle a funnel into his open mouth and let gravity do the rest.

The next morning, the animals waited until their moment came. Templeton, overstuffed from a midmorning binge of stale biscuits and corn bread, waddled under Wilbur’s feeding trough and flopped onto his back with a moan.

“Just a little nap,” he groaned, his voice muffled by the slosh of his stomach. “Let the digestion do its work until the next snack time.”

Within minutes, he was snoring. His mouth fell open, belly rising and falling in lazy rhythm, his limbs sprawled wide. The animals sprang into action.

Wilbur and the goose nestled the tip gently into Templeton’s open mouth, wiggling it between his teeth.

“He didn’t even flinch,” whispered Wilbur.

Now it was the cow's turn. She stuck her head under the trough and tipped it over the funnel,  just enough to let a slow, steady stream of warm, gooey, nutrient-rich slop flow through the spout, down that inflated rat’s gullet.

And down it went.

Chunky, syrupy slop flowed thick and slow into Templeton’s throat. His throat twitched, and then began swallowing in reflex. GULP. GULP. GULP.

His cantaloupe-sized belly began to swell. Slowly at first, then faster. It bloated outward like rising dough, pushing up and out from under him. His limbs began to twitch his stomach got bigger and bigger, churning and gurgling until it swelled to the size of a ripe watermelon.

Then:

“UuuuuuUUUURRRPPP—hic?” Templeton stirred.

The funnel slipped from his lips and his eyes fluttered open. He tried to sit up.

He couldn’t.

His belly was colossal. It surged out from his middle and towered over him, skin taut, rumbling and churning with gallons of rich barn slop. He moaned, long and low.

“Ohhh, I feel...so stuffed. I feel like I swallowed a HIC cow. I LOOK like I swallowed a cow. Cow!” he shouted at his engorged gut, "Are you UURRRP in there?” He gasped, searching his gut for evidence of the cow.

The animals surrounded him, eyes wide, jaws slack.

“No, you gluttonous oaf, I'm right here," chuckled the cow. 

The goose was stunned. "My, my, your stomach can handle anything."

"Feeling like you've had enough yet, Templeton?" Wilbur teased.

Templeton blinked. In a daze he examined himself, now twice as big as he was when he laid down for a nap. His paws reached up to touch the sides of his engorged belly. It was enormous. He couldn't reach the top. It jiggled under his touch like water balloon filled with Jello, and churned and bubbled with every poke.

“Had enough? Never!” he whispered, shivering with pleasure. "This is everything. Ohhh, it feels divine. So stuffed. So bloated. So BIG. Hic-HILP. I don't remember being this engorged when I laid down for a nap.”

“We didn’t think you could handle it,” the cow joked. "We tipped that entire trough of Wilbur's breakfast right down your throat."

Templeton let out another long, wobbling moan. He squirmed slightly, his belly sloshing with thick gurgles, his body pinned beneath it.

"You really thought you could find my Hic-HILP limit? Well, guess what, my friends; UURRP, you've helped me discover I truly have no limit." He gave his own gut a loving slap, triggering another thunderous belch.

Templeton lay there, belly rising like a great dome, hiccuping, moaning, laughing as his massive gut gurgled and pulsed with the churn of gallons of slop. He closed his eyes in bliss.

He slowly began to explore the edges of his new bulk. His paws skimmed over his taut stomach, tracing the curves of its surface. The skin was tight and smooth, stretched drum-like, but still squishy beneath the surface, a reservoir of swirling, overfed delight.

"My stomach can make room for anything. Everything I can gulp down ends up right UUURP here. HIC!" he bragged, poking at his engorged gut.

When he tried again to sit up, the weight of his belly kept him grounded. He rocked back, then forth, and each time his gut sloshed audibly with a wet glorp. He moaned at the sensation, equal parts struggle and euphoria.

“But Templeton," Wilbur challenged, "You're stuffed too fat to move! How can you find your next feast if your stomach is pinning you down?" With a curious prod, Wilbur poked the side of Templeton's overengorged gut, and the whole thing jiggled violently in protest. A surge of bubbles churned within, followed by another BWOOORP of a belch.

Templeton giggled dreamily, hiccuping again as the pressure shifted inside him.

“Where there's a will there's a way, my humble Wilbur. I'll learn to roll if I have to,” he exclaimed.

With effort, the cow dug her nose into Templeton's sides causing him to roll from his back, to his side, to finally on top of his gut. "I don't know how you're gonna roll yourself when I hardly can," the cow said.

Templeton was now eye-level with the Goose as he rested on top of his gorge, feeling everything warmly churn and swirl under him. "Goose, I gotta thank you, Hic-HILP, for sending me to the fair and starting my own growth. Name a rat who can get as big as a goose like you, I'll wait. "

The goose, now eye-to-eye with him, chuckled. “Templeton, I’ve seen personal growth before, but you’ve taken it to a whole new level. The size of your stomach is almost eclipsed by the size of your ego.”

He hiccuped again, belly letting out a loud glorp, and sighed with pleasure.

The group roared with laughter, and as Templeton lay perched atop his own belly like a king on a throne of slop-fed indulgence, the last rays of morning sun spilled across his bulging frame. He hiccuped, giggled, and moaned, utterly content in the enormity of his body. As sleepiness overcame him, he asked the other animals to roll him onto his back so he could finally take that nap.

His belly rose and fell above him like a tide, each slosh a lullaby, each gurgle a reminder of just how far he’d come and how much farther he dreamed of going. Around him, the animals chuckled and whispered, stunned by what they had witnessed and secretly wondering just how much bigger he could possibly grow.

And there, in the shadow of Wilbur’s trough, the roundest, proudest, and most unrepentantly gluttonous rat the barn had ever seen drifted back into a food-drunk dream.

Bigger.

Blissful.

And more hopelessly, gloriously full than ever before.