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Species Squirrel
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"Mmph, ish good shtuff..."
The squirrel muttered to herself as she dove back into the meager crafts table, grabbing handfuls of chips to shove down her gullet like the rest of the productions wasn't staring at her after that raucous burp she'd let loose. Though it wasn't like that all the attention hadn't been on her already with how her the expanse of soft bulk spilled out of her clothing like a waterbed with a harness tied around it, already drenched in sweat from the mere walk to the commercial shoot from the studios parking lot. The body-hair spilling out under her arms and up her stomach probably wasn't helping either, but Melissa had figured they'd want a 'natural figure' for the model they were gonna do her soda's anniversary commercials with, and considering she couldn't exactly remember when she'd taken a razor across herself, the squirrel figured she could meet that aim.
To be fair, the case or two of beer she'd downed before having someone drive her here probably hadn't helped, but that wasn't really her fault since she'd only found the email about the shooting today buried in her mailbox an hour or so before. If they wanted her not drunk for this, they should've made the email easier to find!
But it'd been a while since she'd gotten dressed like this too, she thought as she fully crammed herself over the table to slather one of the mini-sandwhiches (and her own paw) in the flows of the cheese-fountain on the other side of it. The over-bloated squirrel couldn't remember the last couple months when she'd bothered putting on pants in the morning, much less squeezing back into largest set of her exercise clothes-
"M-Melissa? Is that you?"
"Omph-hm? Yeah? Whashup?"
Huffing, the squirrel plied her hands down to push herself up from where she'd practically sprawled over the table, sending the few plates her blob of a gut had quashed into onto the floor as she waddled around. Needing to back herself up like an 18-wheeler trying to make a turn as her ponderous weight sloshed back and forth, and in her shitfaced stupor she swayed with it as she turned to face him, momentarily speechless until he summoned the nerve.
"I-wow!" The vulpine director tried to turn his cringing expression into a grin as he curved the edge of his mouth up. " H-how long's it been? Eight-eight years?"
It seemed believable enough as she went back to chomping on the cookies closest to the side, with some slurred acknowledgement beneath her rampant gulps as a response. He'd heard the ex-athlete had really spiraled off after her last embarrassing loss in the junior preliminaries of her last tournament, and fired her agent as a result, but the company checks for her likeness on the brand were still getting cashed, so he hadn't really thought much of it. He hadn't figured she'd get this bad as he watched her snack, oblivious to the salsa from the bowl that'd been caught under her thick apron of an abdomen slop off the thatch of pubic hair running up her last belly roll and onto the floor.
"So-ah. So what're you...?"
"Heard mmph-BWHUURRRHP" The fox, squinted in disgust as the morbidly obese rodent belched toward him, rubbing her overbearing stomach as it grumbled beneath her. "Heard that'cher makin' the ten-year annivershary for the shoda! For shome reason I didn't get the-the memo n' all sho I jushd threw shomethin' on n' sho'd up. Craft table'sh kinda shit though sho I ordered shome chineshe food for my dreshing room..."
The vulpine took a breath as the sudden news he'd gotten earlier about a delivery-man wandering around on the shoot site made sense now.
"R-right. How about you wait in there for now, and I can have that delivered as soon as possible? We'll-um. We'll let you know when we start rolling."
Warily, the director turned to his assistant, pulling her aside as Melissa seemed to accept that- grunting as she sluggishly toddled over to the cast dressing rooms. As they took to the opposite corner away from her, they could still hear the hairy piss-drunk slob begin to puff as she tried to squeeze in, her width from the swollen rolls waves of her thighs and mass of her stomach lodging her in the door despite how her sweat-greased fur had let her slip partway in. With another rock, she seemed to give up yelling at an intern to help her get inside as he timidly complied.
"We still have the casting list's phone number, right? Just...get the next person we have from the list, I'm sure people won't care too much-"
His eyes closed in a pained expression the trumpeting sound of the squirrel blasting a fart rose high over the sound of the equipment moving. Behind them, the assistant could see the intern that'd come to help unlodge her back away with bleary eyes as the squirrel let out a content moan at the space it seemed to make inside her as her flabby arm flailed at the takeout boxes of the approaching deliveryboy.
"And quickly, please. For the love of god, please do it quickly."
The fourth part of the sequence from.
Volkenfox, and the end will be coming tomorrow!
"Mmph, ish good shtuff..."
The squirrel muttered to herself as she dove back into the meager crafts table, grabbing handfuls of chips to shove down her gullet like the rest of the productions wasn't staring at her after that raucous burp she'd let loose. Though it wasn't like that all the attention hadn't been on her already with how her the expanse of soft bulk spilled out of her clothing like a waterbed with a harness tied around it, already drenched in sweat from the mere walk to the commercial shoot from the studios parking lot. The body-hair spilling out under her arms and up her stomach probably wasn't helping either, but Melissa had figured they'd want a 'natural figure' for the model they were gonna do her soda's anniversary commercials with, and considering she couldn't exactly remember when she'd taken a razor across herself, the squirrel figured she could meet that aim.
To be fair, the case or two of beer she'd downed before having someone drive her here probably hadn't helped, but that wasn't really her fault since she'd only found the email about the shooting today buried in her mailbox an hour or so before. If they wanted her not drunk for this, they should've made the email easier to find!
But it'd been a while since she'd gotten dressed like this too, she thought as she fully crammed herself over the table to slather one of the mini-sandwhiches (and her own paw) in the flows of the cheese-fountain on the other side of it. The over-bloated squirrel couldn't remember the last couple months when she'd bothered putting on pants in the morning, much less squeezing back into largest set of her exercise clothes-
"M-Melissa? Is that you?"
"Omph-hm? Yeah? Whashup?"
Huffing, the squirrel plied her hands down to push herself up from where she'd practically sprawled over the table, sending the few plates her blob of a gut had quashed into onto the floor as she waddled around. Needing to back herself up like an 18-wheeler trying to make a turn as her ponderous weight sloshed back and forth, and in her shitfaced stupor she swayed with it as she turned to face him, momentarily speechless until he summoned the nerve.
"I-wow!" The vulpine director tried to turn his cringing expression into a grin as he curved the edge of his mouth up. " H-how long's it been? Eight-eight years?"
It seemed believable enough as she went back to chomping on the cookies closest to the side, with some slurred acknowledgement beneath her rampant gulps as a response. He'd heard the ex-athlete had really spiraled off after her last embarrassing loss in the junior preliminaries of her last tournament, and fired her agent as a result, but the company checks for her likeness on the brand were still getting cashed, so he hadn't really thought much of it. He hadn't figured she'd get this bad as he watched her snack, oblivious to the salsa from the bowl that'd been caught under her thick apron of an abdomen slop off the thatch of pubic hair running up her last belly roll and onto the floor.
"So-ah. So what're you...?"
"Heard mmph-BWHUURRRHP" The fox, squinted in disgust as the morbidly obese rodent belched toward him, rubbing her overbearing stomach as it grumbled beneath her. "Heard that'cher makin' the ten-year annivershary for the shoda! For shome reason I didn't get the-the memo n' all sho I jushd threw shomethin' on n' sho'd up. Craft table'sh kinda shit though sho I ordered shome chineshe food for my dreshing room..."
The vulpine took a breath as the sudden news he'd gotten earlier about a delivery-man wandering around on the shoot site made sense now.
"R-right. How about you wait in there for now, and I can have that delivered as soon as possible? We'll-um. We'll let you know when we start rolling."
Warily, the director turned to his assistant, pulling her aside as Melissa seemed to accept that- grunting as she sluggishly toddled over to the cast dressing rooms. As they took to the opposite corner away from her, they could still hear the hairy piss-drunk slob begin to puff as she tried to squeeze in, her width from the swollen rolls waves of her thighs and mass of her stomach lodging her in the door despite how her sweat-greased fur had let her slip partway in. With another rock, she seemed to give up yelling at an intern to help her get inside as he timidly complied.
"We still have the casting list's phone number, right? Just...get the next person we have from the list, I'm sure people won't care too much-"
His eyes closed in a pained expression the trumpeting sound of the squirrel blasting a fart rose high over the sound of the equipment moving. Behind them, the assistant could see the intern that'd come to help unlodge her back away with bleary eyes as the squirrel let out a content moan at the space it seemed to make inside her as her flabby arm flailed at the takeout boxes of the approaching deliveryboy.
"And quickly, please. For the love of god, please do it quickly."
The fourth part of the sequence from.
Volkenfox, and the end will be coming tomorrow!
Category All / Fat Furs
Species Squirrel
Gender Female
Size 2254 x 1635px
File Size 1.95 MB
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