A story I was working on for a while. I'd love to finish it some day. As always, comms are open. Shoot me a note!


120

Carmelita Montoya Fox was tired. Not a physical tiredness, but instead a weariness of the soul. Her investigation into a certain raccoon had been foiled again. Months of work and progress gone up in flames in a single night. She walked back to her apartment, shoulders slumped and feet dragging on the pavement. She had always viewed herself as a relentless force of nature but, as her failures stacked up, I seemed less and less true. Rather, it seemed she was mortal after all. What's worse, she was a failure.

Years of her life chasing Sly Cooper had let to nothing other than disappointment and career stagnation. An otherwise sterling resume now had noticeable holes and gaps. Other INTERPOL officers had begun to whisper. Promotions that had rightfully been hers had been given to others far less deserving. Maybe, she thought, it was what she deserved.

The fun of chasing the theivius raccoonus had worn off long ago. One can only come so close so many times without being broken down. Carmelita remembered the early days,m when she was able to trade verbal wit with Sly without feelings of guilt and shame bubbling up in her heart. She loved Sly, in her own way, but he was also a monument to her failures. How could she love him without her own pride intact? Should the world's greatest inspector have to always play second fiddle to the world's greatest theif? Thoughts banged around in her head discordantly.

Carmelita reached her apartment. Climbing the steps slowly. Once in the apartment, she walked to the fridge and grabbed a tub of ice cream. She scooped out a little, putting it in a bowl and walking over to her couch. She shrugged put of her clothes on the way, stripping down to her bare underwear. Setting the bowl of ice cream to the side, she grabbed some pajamas that were folded neatly on the couch and changed. Carmelita then slumped into the couch, grabbing the bowl of ice cream and nibbling on the sweet and sugary treat.

It felt good, oddly good to enjoy that ice cream. So much so that Carmelita had to get another bowl, then another after that. She found herself unable to turn away from the treat. It did not lift her bruised spirits and wounded ego, but it masked them in a way. She ate, fighting back tears with each bite. Between bites, when her mind had a chance to think, she saw years of her life turning to ash. What had she accomplished? Carmelita couldn't answer.

Four generations of law enforcement pride is not an easy thing to discard. And when it dies, things are bound to change. Drastically.


300
(Introduce Satchka here)

Carmelita sighed as she lumbered through the house. Another day. Her stomach jutted put in front of her far enough that she could comfortably rest her fat hands on it. She nestled them underneath her breasts, which had also been growing quickly as of late. The former INTERPOL agent's upper assets had grown large enough that they were starting to block vision of her lower body. . .despite how much they had grown. All in all,

Carmelita had reached a stage of fatness where she


600


"Whew. . .how is it. . .so. . .hot." Carmelita wheezed, her accent helping to hide how exhausted she was. She lumbered down the street, sweat dripping from her now 600 pound body. Carmelita had continued to spiral down into gluttony and sloth, unwilling to put forth the effort to change herself. What was the point? Who did she have to impress? The answers to both were dismal. So, in an effort to not address them, Carmelita had continued her headlong rush into morbid obesity. She had certainly earned that title too. Belly that hung down to her thighs, breasts that had outgrown every pair of bras she owned, and an ass that could flatten a car. All of that and more was packed into a pair of grey sweat pants and matching sweater that had become heavily food and sweat stained. Stains of all kinds were a constant for Carmelita now.

Her rolls dripped and poured with sweat, hating being outside of her climate controlled apartment. Yet, even when she was home, she was not free from the buildup of sweat. Her clothes were drenched, rivers of darker Grey marking where the sweat pooled. She had trails between her breasts, her ass, and back. Carmelita did her best to ignore it, there were far more obvious issues that took her attention. Mainly, hexercise.

The weight hung heavily on her body. Her knees seemed to creak and pop too often, while the rest of her seemed to always be sore. . .despite lack of excercise. Carmelita did her best to limit movement, sparing her massive body from the horrors of physical exertion, but it couldn't always be avoided. Especially not when the blue haired fox had an unignoreable craving for Mexican food. Southwest Taco, the finest eatery near her, refused to deliver so she was forced to waddled her 600+ body in. It had been days since Carmelita had been put of her apartment, preferring to hole up in her den and ignore the world that had forgotten her.

She elbowed the door to Southwest Taco open, her arm leaving a smear of sweat and grease, and waddled further into the establishment. The line was long, swollen with lunch rush customers, and Carmelita was forced to stand at the back. Carmelita stood, shifting her weight from one overtaxed knee to the other. Her booty, juicy in more ways than one, propped the door open with its sheer mass. The former INTERPOL agent grimaced, hating how much reality was bearing down on her.

She could feel eyes in her, judging and hateful. It seemed that wherever she went there was someone staring at her. Women gossiped, children pointed, and teenagers snickered. Everyone had their way of reaching to her weight. Carmelita bore it in the same way she bore her weight, silently and with healthy doses of denial. She wiped her forehead, moving locks of hair that had become plastered there by her sweat. She panted openly, not caring how uncomfortable it made the people around her. A group of teenage girls in front of her looked back in disgust. Carmelita tried to ignore them and mind her own business. Yet, when she took a half step forward,, her belly smacked wetly against one. The girl shivered, clearly distgusted by the obese, sweaty mess behind her, but she had enough manners to not say anything. The girls moved out of line shortly after.

Carmelita passed the time by reading and rereading the menu to herself, dreaming of the food she would bury herself in. She had a genuine love affair with food at this point. Food was more than a comfort, it was her way of life. It sustained her, pleasured her, and comforted her when she was down. The side effects were worth it. She scratched at her stomach which growled and begged for food. The list of what she going to order grew rapidly, each order with several off-menu additions.

750

. . .
A quiet beeping filled the room. Carmelita’s eyes fluttered open and focused on the ceiling. She gasped almost immediately, her mind rushing back to her last moments. The pain that she had felt was gone, but the memory of it still lingered. She tried to raise a flabby hand to grasp her breast, but found herself too weak. Her arm flopped down. She winced as she felt a pulling sensation, as if something was attached. In fact, there was an IV that was attached, running from her meaty bicep into a machine that recorded her vitals and other pertinent information. One did not have to be a doctor to realize how bad they truly were. The numbers were either vastly high or low, none of them comforting. “He. . .help. . .somebody.” Carmelita wheezed, her voice little more than a whisper. She raised her head a little, before letting it fall back into the cushion of her moist chins. Carmelita tried to look around, but found herself unable to see past her mounds of fat and flesh.

“Ahh, my little one is awake!” Satchka’s voice came tenderly to Carmelita’s ears. “You had me so worried for a second. The arctic weasel rubbed Carmelita’s arm, gently squeezing into the gigantic puddle of fat. “They say you had a heart attack.It was rather serious.” She nodded gravely, looking down at her charge. Carmelita was piled into the bariatric bed, overflowing it in some areas. She had a hospital gown draped over her, just barely big enough to cover her most important bits. The rest of her doughy, orange and white body was left to jiggle freely. How beautiful she was. Satchka had to force herself not to cuddle and kiss Carmelita. She longed to bury her face in between her massive breasts, kissing and licking her salty, sweaty folds. The only thing that held her back was the knowledge that the massive fox needed her rest. “But you are safe and sound now. We wait for the doctor to return, he can discharge you.” She smiled before reaching into her purse. Her thin, long hand brought with it a candy bar. It was extra sugary, banned for consumption and only available in certain countries. They had become a favorite of Carmelita.

“Thank you, whew, Satch. Would you huff be able to ufff feed me.”



“Aww, my poor, little fox had an episode because she was a little pent up.” Satchka smiled knowingly, patting the top of Carmelita’s enormous gut. Her hand massaged the folds of fat, sensually rubbing and sloshing the field of blubber. Slowly, much to both Satchka and Carmelita’s liking, the hand slid further and further south. Soon Satchka had her hand in a deep, cavernous well of mois fat. Carmelita moaned and then threw her head back and panted openly. This was exactly what she had been missing. As Stachka stroked her, she felt her blubber move faster and faster. Satchka handled this with the same expertise she handled everything. Carmelita had never felt so. . .taken care of. Her heartrate increased, causing spikes of pain to shoot through her chest again. She tried to flap a flabby hand to tell Satchka, but couldn’t muster the strength. Instead, she sucked more from her oxygen mask and trusted to fate. So she was balanced between life and death, pain and pleasure. It felt like she was drifting in and out of consciousness even. She couldn’t remember when she started to lick her plump lips and make feeble grasps for her massive tits, but she refused to stop. Her legs were too large to buck and kick, especially given her recent heart attack, but she could still move her feet and wiggle her toes.

“Sassh. . .Sasscchhkaa.” Carmelita whined as the pleasuring continued. Satchka had found her most secret place, her womanly temple, and was cleansing it with her nimble fingers. It was then that Carmelita had her epiphany. She couldn’t run her own life. Her entire life had been one of radical independence and self-reliance and it hadn’t gotten her anywhere. She had been miserable and bereft of success. Yet, the less she had done for herself, the happier she had gotten. She felt he desire to guide her life slipping away. In its place she felt the need for comfort, love, and gluttony. Satchka continued to work between her thighs, one hand sinking into her massive thigh balance. Carmelita could do nothing besides lay back and let her nurse work. “Thiiissccchhh issscchhh too good.” She wheezed, coughing a little. “I want thisch every day.” she moaned in a low voice.


“Satchka, I. . .” Carmelita swallowed, Satchka and the Doctor’s words battling for prominence in her mind. Could she give up the life she had? Especially when she had come so far? It had gone from eating out of despair, loneliness, and depression to eating out of pure joy. Food and fattening herself up was her life now. Could she really turn from another lifepath. But, how would she shoulder the health risks. She was already so at risk, adding fifty, a hundred, three hundred pounds on was only going to magnify those risks. How safe was your life before? She thought. Danger had stalked and followed her when she was an INTERPOL agent. Was she really any further from death then? Besides, at least this life was comfortable. Satchka loved and cared for her. Since meeting the weasel, she had never wanted for anything. Not food, nor care, nor pleasure; Satchka gave it all to her freely. Carmelita pushed her hands deep into her rolls, feeling the soft, sweaty bulk that she had built up. “. . .I want to you to keep taking care of me.” She pulled the weasel down, kissing her softly. “Fatten me up. Bigger than anyone else.” She whispered before letting her nurse go.

Satchka nodded, pleased.


800

"Sooo, full. " Carmelita said, leaning back in her feeding chair. She smacked her belly, grabbing and jiggling the lowest fold for extra effect. Owing to her girth and sheer mass, only a portion of her belly looked truly stuffed while the rest hung in a doughy mess as usual. The rest of Carmelita spread over the too-small-chair, causing the once massive thing to look small. Carmelita's fat oozed in every direction. Her fur was the usual mixture of sweat and foodstained. Once she had been mortified to discover that she was becoming too big to adequately care for or clean herself. Now she reveled in it. When Satchka or her doctor said something, she would giggle and look away bashfully. With Satchka's help, Carmelita had turned her insecurities into points of pride. "Satchka, can you rub my stomach?" She asked, her voice a pleading moan.

"Ya, ya, anything for my poor, pitiful patient." Satchka teased. Her snow white, well groomed fur perfectly contrasted against Carmelita's smudged, grease covered coat. "Too fat and lazy to even rub her own stomach. Tsk, tsk, tsk." She turned her head in mock disapproval. Her hands soon were squishing and squeezing at the flabby fox's behemoth gut. Carmelita was fast approach land-whale status, so Satchka had to work in order to actually rub her belly. Her small hands plunged deep into Carmelita's damp fat, causing rivulets of sweat to run from out of her various crevices. She started low but worked her way up the gigantic belly, taking time to lovingly caress each of Carmelita’s rolls. She loved to tickle between the rolls, the places where all the sweat and oil collected most deeply.

“Oh. . .BUUUURRRPP. . .that feels so. . .URRRPP.” Carmelita wheezed and belched as Satchka worked her magic. The fattened fox was perpetually out of breath these days, drained of her ability to do anything besides eat and receive Satchka’s boundless attention . Not that she minded, those were the only things she wanted. The white weasel worked her fingers deeper and deeper into Carmelita, the experience perfectly held between painful and pleasurable. “Burp. . .URRRRRPPPP.” As she felt more and more comfortable, Carmelita could do little more than belch her approval. Her eyes glazed over, her arms went limp, and a little bit of drool pooled at the edges of her mouth. She was lost in pleasure, her senses all pointed towards the magic that Satchka was working on her multi-tiered gut.

Carmelita was naked, as always these days. She had declared herself too big for clothing at 715 pounds, but it had become true at 800. So she was left to bare her blubber to the world, excused from the social taboo on account of her weight.

1000

"Such a messy girl today. Am I taking care of a fox or a pig?" Satchka teased as she sponged over Carmelita's corpulent mass. While the sponge whisked away food, grease, and sweat, it was quickly replaced. Carmelita's body was a factory for such things now. She was a well oiled gluttony machine. Food in, sweat, grease, and belches put. Satchka hefted an immense breast up with one hand, quickly swabbing it with her sponge. She then stopped to wring out and cleanse it, dirty and polluted water ran off quickly. One swipe across Carmelita was enough to dirty a sponge and no sponge lasted through an entire bath.

"Both." Carmelita grunted before returning to her food. She lay heaped on her beds, her doughy body requiring two to adequately house and support her blubber. She was naked, her only accouterments being the different monitors and attached to her body. 1000 pounds of morbidly obese fox was a difficult thing to take care of, so Satchka had to outsource the job to medical devices. Heart monitor, IV tubes, oxygen machine, circulation inducers, and various other electrical devices and tubes snaked from Carmelita. Her body rose and fell as she wheezed lightly, her lungs struggling to lift in her heavy chest. "But. . .I might. . .be. . .more. . .PuuuurrrrrrRRUUUUp. . .pig." Carmelita forced the belch out, her heart rate monitor spiking as she did so.

Satchka, whenever that monitor sounds, stood erect and rushed over to Carmelita's side. She checked that nothing was seriously wrong before h turning her attention to her foxy blob. She rubbed her cheeks, coated and stained with food, drawing the massive lump of facial fat into her own bosom. "You always give me such a scare when you do that." Her Russian accent filled with genuine concern. She quickly fished out Carmelita's oxygen plugs and inserted them into her nose, allowing fresh and clean air to fill her lardy system. Satchka then planted kissed on Carmelita's cheeks, burying her lips deeply in the sweaty flab.

"Ha. . .ha. . .gotcha." Carmelita wheezed, before coughing. Her whole body heaved as she hacked and coughed. Her breasts shook, shoving the myriad of chords around with them. She nuzzled Satchka back before turning and kissing her. Her heartbeat slowly started to settle down to a more normal pace. Carmelita kissed passionately. Until she was forced to stop. She had lit stamina for anything now and even kissing felt like running a marathon. She panted, sweating starting to form along her face's chubby curves. She sucked deeply on her oxygen nasal tubes, filling her lungs with clean oxygen. That helped settle her down. It was hard to breathe and even eating left her winded. "Just. . .a little. . .burp."

Satchka shook her head and sighed. “I do not think you do a little anything anymore.” Satchka flicked the end of Carmelita’s nose before returning to her cleaning work. There was so much fox left to scrub clean of grime. She brought out a new sponge, throwing the old one into a trashcan where it lay with five of its fellows. “Not even big, anymore. Everything is HUGE with you.” she looked back and smiled at Carmelita, slapping the low underside of her gut. Carmelita smiled, her heart rate monitor speeding up noticeably. Satchka winked, noticing how excited the talk was making her blob. She continued swabbing and cleaning, making sure that every inch of Carmelita was clean. . .so she could dirty it later. “The biggest appetite, the biggest belch, the biggest butt.” Satchka continued swabbing her patient down, grimey water running down Carmelita's folds.

"Ca. . .can’t. . .help it." Carmelita said, practically foaming at the mouth with excitement. She ignored the pain springing across her chest. Satchka was on a roll and she wanted more. "Have . . .to be. . .the biggest." She said, tongue lolling out of her mouth. The excitement and physical strain made yet more sweat pour from her rolls. . An oily heat rose from the immobile fox, thick enough to almost be steam. Her chest pumped and thumped with an erratic heartbeat, the kind you only get from being far, far too big. “Need to. . .fatten up. . .grow bigger.” She moaned, her thick fingers grabbing at her immense breasts. Satchka shook her head good naturedly. She loved watching Caremlita enjoy herself, even at the cost of her own body. From the moment she had met her, back when Carmelita was only a heavy 600, Satchka knew that the blue haired fox was special. She was one of a very few that had the drive to get truly huge. A drive that Satchka knew she could bring forward and make the primary motivation of her life, no matter what the cost.

"Yes, yes." Satchka said, rubbing a hand on Carmelita's uppermost belly fold, right in the place where her enormous breasts fell off to either side. Satchka leaned in, not minding the sweat or grease that pooled on Carmelita’s face. She planted a kiss, tasting some of the food that hadn’t been wiped away yet. “I’ll keep my piggy-fox or foxy-pig growing no matter what.”[/center]