Having splurged himself as he pleased, Templeton decided to complete his original task. Not that he cared about the spider and pig now that he had a seemingly endless utopia of food to feast on, he would miss his rattie home back on the farm; and who could forget those humble slops, which nourished him for a long time. It would also give him a chance to show off his glorious transformation. That he, Templeton, had returned twice, nay, thrice the rat he left as. Everyone will be in awe over his blubbery visage.
Shaking his massive swell happily, he attempted to stand up. But with each attempt, his burbling, over gorged corpulence would quickly push him back down.
“C’mon now,” he huffed, “work with me. There’s still much more out there to glut.”
As if understanding him, all his nights gluttony sloshed and rolled Templeton forward. Then, on the brink of tipping over, his body became balanced, his tiny footpaws still miraculously touching the floor, and allowing him to move. Jiggling his blubbery frame with delight, he resumed with his quest for food, and a word.
* * * * *
Throughout the fair grounds, delicious treats were in plentiful supply. While looking for the word, Templeton had consumed two donuts, a bag of chips, a slice of cheese, a box of curly fries, and half a cup of soda; growing all the more fatter, and loving every new inch. It was becoming apparent that he was doing more eating than word searching, and pondered on how to improve his searching efforts.
Resting against a trash can, he rested a paw on the soft, furry tub of lard that was his belly, and scratched his chin. Having continuously gorge himself without stop, his belly growled and sloshed louder than his thinking.
“Now, what would be a good place to look for a word?” While he said this, his brain asked something different. What was a good place to look for more food? Hah, thinking, a pointless waste of time. His all consuming stomach would do all the thinking for him.
“So, where do you think I should go,” he asked his globe like belly, giggling as he sloshed around his feast with every playful slap. It was more food then he could think of, all rolling around in a massive cavern of blubber and digestive liquid.
The groaning gray balloon spoke in a language Templeton could actually understand.
“To the vegetable judging stand it is.”
His belly, growling in excitement, sloshed loudly as he pulled himself forward, and as he dragged his bulk across the fairgrounds.
Thankfully, the fruit and vegetable judging section wasn’t too far off, so the task of moving didn’t deplete much of the rats precious calories. What did however, was climbing the stand. Determined and with enough motivation to fill his stomach 10 times over, he managed to hoist himself up, thanks to his claws and the long table cloth hanging down to him. It was miraculously enough to sustain his weight-without him pulling it off. There truly must’ve been something up there heavier than him.
And there certainly was. There in front of his eyes was the largest squash, pumpkin, and potatoes Templeton had ever seen; truly deserving of first prize. Plus, there were boxes with writing conveniently placed within paw reach. Using both paws to shake his abundant amount of belly, he thanked his body for helping him find the way, and got straight to repaying it.
He began with the potatoes, each one about the size of his bloated belly when he first began the night’s feast after abandoning Charlotte and Wilbur. Grabbing the first one in the basket, he took a massive chomp. As the juicy succulent chunks of the spud slithered down his throat one by one, he squinted his eyes; oblivious to the fact that each massive swallow was a little more than his throat could handle. But he muscled his way through the pain, the satisfying sound of every chunk glopping and bouncing in the pit of his titanic belly. When he couldn’t reach for another potato, he climbed into the basket, then truly let himself go. His waist and abdomen growing with every slurp, every content swallow.
When he was finished, he climbed out, a gray obese ball of fur and fat, with a sloppy grin slapped on his face. As his grotesquely large belly lightly grazed the table top, his large body erupted in a symphony of sloshing and squelches. Hiccupping loudly from his victory, he continued his gorging. His plump arm muscles straining to drag his massive girth.
Once he moved up to the squash, he took a large bite. It was soft, squishy, and filling, just like his belly. Suddenly, he stuffed his head within the hole he made, and attempted to eat it from the inside out. All ready at the brink of fullness, he was shocked at how much his monumentally enormous gut could hold. While mouthful after glorious mouthful was shoved down his throat, he thought about all he’d eaten. It must’ve been enough to feed a family for a week, maybe longer. He was truly proud of his gluttonous achievement; this was what he lived for. Being an enormously fat greedy rat couldn’t of been better.
After unbelievably feasting the inside of the giant squash, he finished off the outside in a similar fashion. Licking the flavor from his lips, and holding in a massive hiccup, he swallowed the last of the remaining fruit, and looked to his belly. Slowly, the largest most pleasurable grin he ever had formed across his face. It was so much, and felt like too much for him to handle. So tight, round, and incredibly big. His stomach now seemed to make up 91% of his body; his arms, legs, tail and head making up 1.5% each. His arms, large and flabby, unable to feel any bone when he squeezed them. His legs, lost under his incredible burbling gut. His head, physically merging with the other 91% of his body. His tail, forgotten and probably would never be seen again. And then, his vociferously groaning belly, the epitome of over eating. The tank of lard swayed to and fro hypnotically, sloshing with the slightest movement; all of it pure glorious fat. Lifting up his arms, Templeton allowed them to slap the squishy part of his body that used to be his chest, which was now part of his gigantic stomach.
Sending a jiggling wave throughout his body, the rat’s entire stomach began to collapse like an avalanche. With too much fat for his small paws to push back, the weight of his belly crushed him for a moment, then toppled him backwards; continuing to happen again, and again, and again. Until his fat back pressed against something, sending all the fat in front of him to smother against his muzzle. Making him smile from feeling all the warm fluffy adipose.
Straining his head to look behind him, he found it was the pumpkin that stopped him. Then, looking back to his blob like groaning swell, he shook it with his paws, which slowly sent undulating waves pleasurably coursing throughout his plump body.
“You planned this out didn’t you,” he asked his gut, which loudly gurgled in response. “This is the hic…HILP!!! Final thing for tonight. I hic…HILP!!! Want to show off to the pig and the hic…HILP!!! Spider.” Understanding, his stomach caused him to erupt in a gaseous belch. Then, he took the first bite.
The pumpkin being as big as it was, took a lot of eating. So much eating not even Templeton was up to finishing it off. But it was fine, he got the word he was looking for from one of the boxes which read, “come to humble hanks! We’ve got the largest crops around.” Humble, a good word, one the spider would probably like. But, that’s if he could get back to her.
Having been much more eating than he thought, the gargantuan rat was only able to finish off half of it. Still, he relaxed with his back against it, allowing his glorious achievement to flow like jello. He spent about 10 minutes, stroking and squeezing his large mound of fat. It was no question now that he would literally burst if he would take one more bite. The pain excited him, but also saddened him. Only because he was now reduced to rubbing his claws across such a plentiful amount of belly, and was afraid that the slightest slap would cause it to rupture. He was even afraid to snuggle it with his muzzle lest he explode it. Everything, so tight and tense. He didn’t know what to do. He had already grown to ungodly proportions, and now he currently could eat. It was as if he purpose for coming had now left him. But at least he has the word. Now comes the decision for what to do.
Should he take the word back and be scolded for his feasting and coursing. Should he take a nap and sleep if off. Or, should he take the bold risk and finish the pumpkin, regardless of the consequences. With his stomach now resting and out of commission, making his own choice seemed hard. Rubbing as much of his body as he could, he made his decision…..
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