The sun was setting over the Lurvey’s farm, painting the sky in streaks of pink and gold. Fireflies blinked in the warm air, and the smell of grilled corn and smoked meat drifted from the long wooden tables set beneath the old oak tree. It was a night of fireworks, of celebration, and of feasting; it was the 4th of July.

Templeton watched it all from the shadows of the barn, his whiskers twitching with excitement. The humans had outdone themselves this year: plates of crispy fried chicken, smoked brisket, buttery cornbread stacked high, heaping bowls of potato salad, juicy watermelon sliced into hefty wedge, pies so sweet the air itself seemed sticky with sugar.

To most, it was a feast. To Templeton, it was destiny.

As the Lurveys and their neighbors lit the first sparklers and ran shrieking across the yard, they left the feast unguarded. Templeton’s heart quickened at the opportunity in front of him. His gut now rounder from weeks of feasting growled in hunger and anticipation.

“Ah… the perfect chance,” he whispered, a sly grin spreading across his face. “They’ll be busy with their lights and noises, and I’ll be busy glutting.”

He scurried forward, paws shuffling forward and his bulk sloshing back and forth has he crawled towards the feast. The temptation on the table looming above him was almost too much to bear. He scrambled up the bench, hauling himself up with a grunt as his soft belly pressed against the wood.

He paused at the edge of the table, eyes gleaming in the flickering light of the distant sparklers.

“You’re not just food,” he murmured, stroking the curve of his gut. “You’re the start of something bigger. You’re not just a watermelon, you’re a juicy roundness that’ll swell me out farther like a badge of honor. You’re not jus a pie, I imagine you melting inside me, sloshing and swirling away making me bigger and heavier. You’re not just a fried chicken, you’re a tribute to my gluttony, a thing to slide down my greedy gullet and all I can see is how you’ll stretch me out, make me fuller, rounder, and tight as a drum.”

He lunged forward, grabbing a square of cornbread and shoving it into his mouth. It was warm, buttery, dissolving into sweet crumbs on his tongue. He didn’t just taste it, he felt the way it settled in his gut, adding a little more weight, a little more size.

Templeton tore into fried chicken, skin crackling as he swallowed it whole. He could almost feel each drumstick pressing outward inside him, stretching him rounder and tighter.

“Oh, yes,” he moaned softly, one paw cradling the taut ball of his stomach. “Each bite is another inch of me, adding to what I’m meant to be.”

His mind raced with overwhelmingly pleasurable fantasies: he imagined how the smorgasbord would look when it was all inside him, how it would pad out the underside of his belly, how the potato salad would fill in the soft sides, how each mouthful would make him bigger.

Wilbur’s voice startled him from his greedy trance. “Templeton…at it again?” the pig squeaked, his eyes wide.

Templeton laughed a deep, greedy chuckle that made his swollen belly jiggle beneath his paws. “Oh, I’m just getting started. Don’t you see, Wilbur? I look at this feast, and I don’t see plates and platters. I see pieces of me waiting to be added!”

He patted his gut, feeling the soft mound beneath the tight drum of his gorge. “This isn’t just eating. It’s a celebration. I no longer eat until I’m full, my humble Wilbur. I eat until I’m transformed.”

Wilbur took a hesitant step closer, eyes flicking to the spread. “It’s true you haven’t found your limit yet, Templeton. That stomach seems to handle anything! But what happens when you discover you truly HAVE no limit?”

Templeton’s grin grew wider. “Oh, Wilbur… that’s the point. Don’t we all want to see how big I can get? How much of this feast will end up right here” His voice dropped to a husky murmur as he poked his belly. “I see it…the pie settling in the bottom of my gut, the coleslaw filling out my sides, the hot dogs bloating me out bigger and rounder with each gulp.  I see it, and my stomach will claim it all.”

Wilbur swallowed. “You’re…something else,” he admitted. He couldn’t help his fascination with the greedy, gluttonous, arrogant rat. He reached up and gave Templeton’s belly an experimental poke. It was firm and warm, yet so obviously full of shifting softness.

Templeton moaned at the pleasure of his gut glorping in response. “Yes… you feel it too, don’t you, Wilbur? All of that sloshing away inside me was once sandwich trimmings, a pitcher of foamy beer, a banana, and even your trough of slop. But now it’s all ME, a trophy of my gluttony. Feel my stomach now, because in just a few minutes, it’s going to be even bigger.”

Across the field, the first firework cracked in the sky, showering them in red light. With the Lurvey’s and their guests so distracted, Templeton needed to feast fast.

Templeton turned back to the table, eyes gleaming. “I need to devour more than just corn bread. Help me, Wilbur! Push that platter of hot dogs closer.”

Wilbur hesitated, then nudged the heavy platter within Templeton’s reach. “You’re… really going to eat all that?”

Templeton’s grin was a wolfish, hungry. “Watch me.”

He grabbed the dozen hot dogs and shoved each one into his maw, swallowing whole. His belly pushed outward as each hot dog slid down his throat.  He gave his gut a playful slap, moaning as it wobbled under his touch.

“Oh Wilbur, the sensation is incredible. I can feel each hot dog churning and settling in my gorge. Oh how they slither and snake around inside me! Take a good look at me now, Wilbur, bigger than before, but not big enough!”

Templeton stared in shock, awe, and admiration at the greedy rat, and chuckled as he saw him waddle over to the bowl of potato salad, push the edge down, and ravenously slurp the rich mixture of chunky morsels, swelling his belly, each swallow making it jiggle as one ginormous, swelling orb.

Next, Templeton rocked himself to the plate of watermelon wedges, pink and glistening in the glow of the sky and fireworks. He leaned in, opened wide, and swallowed chunk after chunk tirelessly. Templeton was immediately reminded of the watermelon he devoured that night at the fair, and how that watermelon sitting in his gut was the first time he, as a regular-sized rat, ever felt full. That first watermelon was even before the banana that bloated him to an obscenely huge size, the first time he felt the pleasure of expanding into all directions at once, but oh how proud he is of his size now; at least ten times the rat he was back then…and still growing.

With the watermelon wedges now resting inside him with the rest of his gorge, causing a cacophony of sloshing and glorping from his gut, Templeton leaned back to feel the full weight of his feast on top of him. He felt the desire to examine the new size of his stomach, rub and massage it, worship it into being ready for me.

“Templeton,” Wilbur gasped, “You’re as big as me! Never thought I’d see the day where a rat is as fat as a pig.”

“You really think so, Wilbur? You flatter me. And you better get used to not being the fattest animal on Lurvey’s farm.”

Templeton’s gut towered above him, both firm from his bloat and soft from his corpulent fat, swaying in all directions. His bubbling and stewing gorge heaved to the right, causing Templeton to momentarily rest on his side, feeling his gluttony spill out in front of him with a loud and audible squelch. His engorged stomach, packed full and heavy, began leaning off the edge of the table. Templeton could feel himself being pulled to his right as his stomach sank down farther and farther, gaining speed, before he realized he was about to tumble right off the table.

As he fell, Templeton desperately grasped at the red and white checkered table cloth to hoist himself back up, but his heft was too big and the tablecloth fell with him to the grass, along with what was left of Lurvey’s feast including a whole smoked brisket.

The brisket, slick with sauce and glistening with fat, tumbled off the table’s edge and plopped right into Templeton’s gaping mouth. His eyes fluttered with delight as he gulped. He felt it settle in his gut heavily after one final strained gulp, and as it joined the rest of his gorge with a sickening glorp, and his gut surged forward. Templeton moaned softly as he felt it happen: his body, stretching and swelling to house the feast he refused to deny.


His frame seemed to lengthen ever so slightly, his back arching to support the new girth and his spine lengthening. His sides bulged outward, his belly spreading further in every direction, a soft, yielding swell that was still so tight from the gorge. He ran his paws over the new expanse, marveling at the sensation.

“Oh… oh, yes…HIC” he moaned, eyes rolling back. “My body… it’s HIC keeping up with me. It knows what I want. It knows… I need to be UUURRRP, bigger.”

Wilbur took a cautious step forward. “You’re…you’re huge, Templeton. Not just stuffed and bloated beyond belief, but actually BIGGER everywhere. Your frame has grown from the size of a rat to the size of a gluttonous cat.”

“HIC-HILP, and some day the size of a grossly oversized UUURRP, cow,” Templeton said dreamily, his eyes taking in his new bulk. “Oh Wilbur, HIC, this sensation is incredible. To be not only positively engorged HIC, and UURRRP, fatter, but actually BIGGER all around. To have stretched larger to house this gut. Oh Wilbur, I truly am destined for HIC, big things.”


Templeton’s gait thundered as he waddled, getting used to his new height and girth, and made his way to the blueberry pie and half gallon of vanilla bean ice cream that now awaited him on the ground. He lifted the pie to his lips and licked the pan clean as if it was nothing. He then sat back and hoisted the ice cream up on top of his gut and let the rich, melted substance slide down inside him. 


With a soft belch and a satisfied hiccup, Templeton realized he can hold much more. SO much more. His body has expanded beyond limits, once a small emaciated rat, now something much bigger, greedier, and addicted to growth.


He gave his gut a final, proud slap, the resulting wobble and glorp music to his ears. Then he let out a long, low moan of pleasure as Wilbur gave his belly a few playful pokes, a stomach bigger than he’s ever seen, and packed more tightly than he ever thought possible. As Templeton food-drunkenly stumbled back to he barn, the fireworks died down above him, and the Lurvey’s were shocked to find nothing but crumbs left of their 4th of July feast. Their own confused exclamations of surprise drowning out the glorping, sloshing, hiccuping, overfed stomach of a rat splaying out in the barn to dream of future gorging and unimaginable growth. 


“HIC.”