Two Big Meals for Lucy

A hungry young fox named Lucy crept slowly through the darkness. She tried to keep silent, but one part of her simply wouldn’t stay quiet. Her tummy growled, hunger gnawing at her. She smiled. That was good. For what she had in mind, she’d need every bit of her appetite.

Just past the last few trees stood the sprawling land of a large, thriving farm. And right at the edge of the fields of wheat was a large, sturdily build chicken coop. Lucy took a whiff. The air was heavy with the scent of chickens. The thought of the feast that awaited her made it difficult to maintain her care and stealth. She wanted to dash inside and stuff herself silly. But she would only have one shot at this, and she couldn’t afford to make a mistake.

Drool began to drip from her lips as she approached the door. She could hear them now. Resting peacefully, completely unaware of the hungry predator approaching. With every last ounce of will power she had, Lucy lifted the latch and pushed slowly at the door. It was dark inside, and aside from the odd rustle of feathers, there was no motion but the steady breathing of sleeping birds.

She let the door shut behind her. Her sharp eyes from the moonlit outdoors to the near pitch-blackness inside. There they were. A dozen of the plumpest, most delectable chickens she’d ever seen. She licked the drool from her lips and made ready. Only the first one would be free. She’d have to work for the rest, and work quickly. Best to choose the meatiest morsel first.

Lucy gazed over the sleeping birds and stopped at a glorious specimen. The chicken was huge, so heavy she was causing her roost to sag under her weight. Again Lucy licked her lips. Yes. This one would do nicely.

In a lightning motion she threw her head wide, her glistening maw clamping tight over the birds’ head. It’s wings spread and it’s feet scrabbled as it awakened to find its head buried deep in the throat of the hungry fox. Lucy acted quickly, clamping her paws over the wings and hefting her head back. Muffled as its cries were inside her throat, the creature made very little noise. She stuffed with her pause and darted her head forward. Her lips stretched around the downy feathers and plump flesh of the creature. Bit by bit it went from sleeping bird to struggling lump straining the fox’s throat. She gulped and gobbled, tongue slathering the bird to soak up it’s wonderous flavor. Greedy shoves and powerful swallows wrapped more of the chicken in her mouth until, with a satisfying gulp, her lips closed over its rump and the whole creature slid down into her waiting stomach.

Lucy shut her eyes and threw her head back, basking in the pleasure of a full tummy. The fat chicken was still struggling, causing her suddenly round belly to wobble and ripple with little, futile bulges. She tried to hold it still, rubbing it with her paws and murring with delight.

Suddenly she remembered that time was of the essence. She opened her eyes, fully expecting to see the rest of the coop in chaos. To her surprise and relief, she’d acted quickly enough that the muffled clucks and struggles of the first chicken hadn’t awoken the others. If she took equal care with the rest of the chickens, maybe she could eat her fill without any trouble.

She took a step toward the next morsel, but the creature in her belly gave a might kick. It didn’t do any good in helping it to escape, but it did cause something to happen.

*BURRRRRRAAAAAAP!*

The dislodged belch practically rattled the rafters of the coop and startled the rest of the chickens awake. They filled the air with terrified clucking and flapping wings.

Oh well. No one said it would be simple.

She snatched the first bird she could reach and crammed it in her mouth. She’d already taken care of the largest, so the rest were comparatively easy to gobble up. A few powerful swallows and a second bulge slid down to meet the first. She reached out and caught a third and fourth bird, working her lips around their tasty forms at the same time, drool coating their feathers and making even the double mouthful smoothly glide down her gullet. Her belly was enormous now, hanging down and swaying as its residents shoved and struggled in vain. She heaved herself forward and grabbed another bird, which in a flash of teeth and a curl of her tongue went down the hatch.

Lucy was nearly as frenzied as the birds now. Despite her already epic meal weighing her down, she waddled and lunged after birds too frightened to know where to run. One by one the chaos died down, as the maddened birds disappeared into her gut. Finally there was only one bird remaining. She dragged her tummy, easily larger than the rest of her body, and flopped down atop it, trapping the chicken in the corner. It leaped and scrabbled at the wall, trying to escape. She rocked back and forth, until finally she overbalanced and fell forward, jaws popping over the final meal. She held it in her massively stretched mouth, licking and squeezing it as it bulged her cheeks until every last drop of flavor—and fight—had been wrung from the beast. She then swallowed it down and delicately urped.

After so heavy a meal—her belly was like a squirming sack of fur so large she had to struggle to reach the ground with her paws—all she wanted to do was sleep. She snuggled her pudgy tummy drowsily, then blinked her eyes open again. Distantly, she could hear the sounds of human voices. The farmer… She had to get out of here.

She sucked in her gut as best she could, which earned her about an inch and brought fresh struggles from her meal. It was just enough for her to begin dragging herself toward the door, leaving a rut in the soft earth of the coop floor as she dragged along.

Lucy nudged at the door and tried to exit. Her fat tummy was wider that the doorway, lodging her good and tight as she squeezed and shoved.

With her head outside, she could see the lights on in the farmhouse. There was no time to lose. She dug her paws into the dirt, shoved herself and…

*Cre-e-e-e-e-a-a-k THUMP*

She launched from the doorway and tumbled end over end into the surrounding clearing, rolling like a runaway bolder on her bulging tummy. She managed to get her paws under her and turned her ungainly roll into a wobbling, sloshing run.

~~~

Some time later, panting and winded, Lucy slid to a stop in a nice, safe section of the forest. Her titanic tummy had stopped struggling and begun to soften during the run—a bit of exercise always did help get her juices flowing—so now there was nothing left to do but settle in for a long nap to let her meal digest. She flopped forward and felt her tummy sag and spread slightly against the soft bed of leaves. Her paws kneaded at the pudginess. Soft burbles and gurgles were music to her ears, lulling her into a deep, delightful slumber.

Many hours later she stirred. She was more or less resting on the ground now, rather than her soft bed of stuffed tummy. This was because the meal had been reduced to a nice, pudgy layer of fat. But her body wasn’t quite done with the former residents of the chicken coop.

She stood and paced a short distance into the woods then squatted down and raised her tail. With a light push, the fragrant remnants of the massive feast eased out. A tight coil of scat plopped bit by bit into a mound. Flecks of white marked the powdery remnants of bones. A light grunt caused a skull to *splut* onto the pile. She felt oddly proud of the heap of droppings. She kicked a few stray leaves atop the pile—an old habit from when she wasn’t quite so fortunate with her meals, and paced happily off for another well-fed day.

As she ventured through the woods, she caught an interesting scent. It wasn’t prey… or at least, it wasn’t supposed to be. The scent on the breeze was that of a pack of wolves, somewhere nearby. She shifted from her usual prowl back to a stealthy creep, moving through the shadows of the trees. There was something to the scent that suggested these particular wolves were nothing to be afraid of right now.

She reached a sun-dappled clearing. Again a smile curled her lips. There were six wolves, and by the looks of their tummies they had each had a nice, tasty meal before drifting off to sleep. Lucy padded closer and gave the burbling belly of the nearest male a gentle prod. This dislodged a soft belch from the sleeping predator. Though the firm, tightly packed stomach was respectable, it was no match for the one she’d had yesterday… Or the one she would be sporting soon.

Lucy dropped to the ground and crept close to the sleeping wolf’s muzzle. If she did this properly, she wouldn’t have any trouble at all. Chickens were skittish, easily spooked. But she knew from experience that a well fed sleep was a good heavy sleep.

With drool running down her chin, she opened her maw and eased it over the nose of the wolf. She let her teeth rest softly on the furry head and gave the fuzzy chin a good, thorough lick to savor its flavor and help it slide down. A stretch or her neck and another soft nibble caused her throat to bulge around the wolf’s head. Nibble by nibble, Lucy eased her lips down the wolf’s neck. His forelegs slid aside, pinned easily by the corners of Lucy’s mouth… and then her throat. He wriggled softly, just a bit of tossing and turning as his body slipped deeper into the warm embrace of her stomach. Soon she was gnawing softly at his churning belly, her jaws stretched impossibly wide. She almost giggled as she watched his hind legs twitch and kick. Maybe he was dreaming of chasing rabbits. When her tongue lapped at his bulging navel, then curled past the point of no return and slurped his belly fully into her mouth, she clutched him tightly with her throat and swallowed him down. The feet and tail slithered between her lips and packed tightly in with the rest of his still sleeping body.

She hefted herself unsteadily to her feet. That was quite a meal… but it seemed such a shame to leave her plate half-full. She dragged herself to the tail of the next wolf, a female, and popped the tasty little morsel in her mouth. After the stretching the first wolf had given her, this snack went quicker. Legs folded, tummy squished and grumbled, and each was forced into her gut by careful swallows and powerful waves of muscle. Not until her maw snapped shut over the female’s face did the creature wake, but it was far too late. She had scarcely time to make a peep before she was just another lump drifting down her throat. This bulge packed in beside the first, and though she struggled enough to wake the first meal—causing a bit of bulging and struggling—there was no escaping her greedy gut. When both meals resigned to their fate, she continued.

After a third wolf, she could barely move herself, so she switched her tactics. She wobbled and hobbled her way to the final three, plopped herself down so that she was near all three of their hind legs, and carefully, slowly, fed the first set of paws into her mouth. Now instead of inching herself forward, working her way down over the body of her meal like a snake might, she let her powerful throat slurp them in, dragging them backward with every swallow. Down went the fourth wolf. Down went the fifth.

The final wolf was the slowest of all. Another female, this one moved barely half an inch with each swallow. There simply wasn’t any room left for her. Every gulp forced the sleeping wolf’s body between two other of her pack who had already been eaten. Inevitably, right around when she’d tucked the wolfess’s forepaws into her mouth to trap them there, she finally awoke. A startled, confused howl followed, but Lucy didn’t care. The rest of the pack was little more than a meal already. At the sound of the howl, a few of the stirred and struggled, but they were packed so tight they could scarcely budge. Without the need to be gentle any longer, Lucy reached up with her paws and gripped the final wolf’s pelt, forcing her inside far faster. Finally she placed a paw on the wimpering’ meals nose and shoved her inside.

The vigorous struggle of the last wolf shook loose a massive belch, so mighty it rattled some leaves from the branches overhead. Lucy sighed happily and looked down. Her belly was enormous. Many times the size of the rest of her. A sharp eye could make out the head of a wolf here or a few paws nudging at the round, lumpy sack of wolf her stomach had become. Her legs didn’t even touch the ground now. She was held aloft on the satisfyingly filled tummy, completely unable to move. But where would she go? She’d had her breakfast. Now all she had to do was laze about in the sun until it had added to her pudge like the chickens had.

As always, though, the fun of a meal was only half in the eating. Everything that goes in, comes out. Hours passed. The wobbling and struggling slowed and stopped. The defined features of her meal softened away. By the end of the day, after a few naps and plenty of pleasant gurgles and burbles, she raised her tail for the first time. Plop, plop, plop went the remains of her massive breakfast. Through most of the night, every few hours she added to the warm pile. Not until the mound of coiled droppings was nearly as large as her had she eliminated enough of the pack of wolves to finally drag herself forward. There was something oddly pleasant about the smell of one’s own poop, but it certainly wasn’t something you wanted to spend too much time lingering around. She found some fresh grass and eased the rest of the pack out in one monumental, smelly turd. She smirked when she noticed a nice, white skull peeking out of the pile.

This was the pack’s clearing. It seemed only right that they remain here.