“Barkeep, beer me!” A blue-and-pink skunk yelled across the crowded bar. Sol, the skunk, knew that it was too early to drink more than one or two at the most, but he had been invited to the brewery for an early brunch with friends, and that did mean he had to drink. The large panda behind the bar just turned to him and grunted slightly, looking to be somewhat annoyed by the order. He was having to keep up with so many already, so the skunk could understand, but the attitude was still unacceptable, especially this early in the day. Sol frowned a bit in return and leaned on the bar between a pair of chatting felines, who barely noticed the interruption and continued on as normal. Sol was going to have to wait while listening to them, and he could only hope that he wouldn’t have to wait long. They were droning on about some report on the news or something; the skunk was barely listening to begin with. He just wanted the drinks for himself and his friend, and then to get back so that he could enjoy the French toast he had ordered a bit before. Beer and French toast was not the best combination, but it was his day off and he wanted to relax; why not?
A pair of brews slid over to the skunk as he contemplated what he was going to do after he left the brewery. Sol gave a nod of thanks to the bartender but didn’t get so much as a wave in return for the gesture. It was a little disheartening for the skunk, but he decided not to pursue the rudeness and instead just flicked his thick tail around behind him and began to walk back over to his table. His toned, somewhat thin build navigated the space easily, and his height advantage over several in the room made that even easier. He hadn’t expected the place to be so crowded at that time of day, but it was a popular place so he had to at least expect something. His friend Jac swore by the food too, so a trip out was of course going to happen on their day off. It was nothing for the skunk to complain about however, and instead he just let it happen and made sure that Jac paid for it.
Sol eventually made it back to the table, sighing a bit as he saw that Jac was nowhere to be found. The badger had been complaining about his stomach all morning, so he had to imagine a trip to the bathroom for the mustelid had been in order. This did leave Sol alone with two beers and table full of food though, and his more devious side wanted to just eat all of it and drink everything he could. He wasn’t in the privacy of his home, so his more gluttonous side couldn’t shine through, but it was there and wanted to get some action. Sol could easily resist though, and instead just lowered himself into his seat and sighed yet again. He was grateful to be off his feet, and now that he was closer to his French toast and could get a better look at it, his gratefulness turned into happiness.
The stack of breaded goodness was huge, easily four inches tall and over a foot wide. How one could make pieces of bread that big was beyond the skunk, but he didn’t care and instead just wanted to eat them all right on up. Putting the beers onto the table and grabbing his utensils in short order, he planned on doing just that too. Knife in one paw and a fork in the other, he cut off a huge piece for him to eat before stopping and frowning. He had forgotten to drench his feast in syrup, the most important part of any meal involving breakfast food. Putting down his knife and reaching out for the syrup which was in the middle of the table, the skunk just grinned to himself as he felt the heft of the bottle and saw the label which was on it. Imported from Vermont, the stuff had to be amazing, and Sol drenched his battered breakfast in it just to get all of that taste out of the bottle and into his muzzle.
Satisfied with the coating he had given his breakfast in the sugary liquid, he stabbed the chunk he had cut off the block of food and pushed it right into his maw. He immediately rumbled with bliss at the taste of it, his eyes rolling back and shutting as he chewed slowly to savor the flavors which were utterly assaulting his tongue. Jac’s praise had been well deserved, and Sol now knew it as he instinctually cut off another chunk of the French toast and shoved it into his muzzle the second that he finished chewing the last. Beers all but forgotten, the skunk was lost in the bliss that was his French toast, and his greedy side took over in full now that he knew just how good the food was. That, and that no one was really looking at him. Those battered bread hunks weren’t going to stand a chance against the skunk.
Less than ten minutes later, that was proven by the fork scraping the last of the crumbs off the plate for Sol. He was slightly saddened that the food was gone, but it was sitting so heavily in his gut that he couldn’t complain. He felt well and truly full after eating all of his meal, and leaned back in his chair once the last few crumbs made their way into his muzzle. His paws went straight to his packed stomach and began to rub along it, caressing that surface and just trying to soothe the turmoil that was starting in it thanks to his overindulgence. Sol didn’t really care about it one way or the other, but rubbing his stomach and leaning back as he was felt too comfortable not to do it. He could feel a couple eyes in the brewery on him, but the skunk didn’t care in the slightest about that right at the moment. He was lost in his own little happy place, on his day off, nearly thirty miles from home; no one would care if he let his hair down a bit.
It was then that he remembered his beer, and decided to wash his gluttony down with the sweetened alcohol. Bringing the large mug up from the table after gingerly leaning forward and grasping it, he toasted to no one and took a long swig. The syrup from his breakfast still coated his lips and made the beer unusually bitter, but it was nothing that he could complain about and instead just forced him to drink more to get the taste from his maw. He could feel the cold liquid pouring down his throat and into his gut, making him rumble deeply with contentment and just rub at his stomach with his other paw as he drank. The mug was large, but it felt just large enough to fill the holes in his stomach and make him go from full to stuffed, but not break into being sick. On he drank with that knowledge, the large mug nearly half-gone before he even had a chance to think about the consequences.
The last bits of foam remained in the mug after a few more moments of drinking, which lined the skunk’s upper lip like an alcoholic mustache as he pulled the mug down and set it roughly back onto the table. It made a loud clang that got a few more looks in his direction, but Sol was far too busy with himself to even notice them at this point. Both of his paws raced to his packed stomach, the bloated ball on his abdomen churning and groaning loudly as he tried to make sense of what the skunk had just stuffed into it. He could feel a burp coming up in him, but it would need to make its way past the food which was sitting on top of that bubble of gas. Just groaning faintly to himself and shutting his eyes, the skunk continued to rub at his stomach to soothe it and lean back in his chair while he waited for the belch to come out of him. It wasn’t coming though, so he gave his stomach a very light tap, which jostled the packed thing just enough to release that gas bubble. He felt it come up from his stomach, work its way into and up his throat, and in anticipation the skunk opened his muzzle for it.
Nothing came though.
Not a single bit of gas left him, which made Sol very perplexed. He had no idea as to what was going on with his gut there, but he intended to find out. He repeated the process, still unwilling to open his eyes or stop rubbing his gut with his other paw. He got the same result again, and began to feel even more bloated now that he was doing that. He had to stop, but his gut felt like it was just beginning something. There was no pain, but it did feel like it was bloating out more with every passing moment. It wasn’t a quick thing either, it was a constant and slow swell that seemed to be building up inside his gut. Sol wasn’t even sure if it was real either, as he pushed his paws against his stomach slightly and tried to feel if there was any give there. Sol couldn’t feel any, but there was something else strange about what he felt when he pushed into his gut. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he chanced a look down to see if his mind was just playing tricks on him.
It wasn’t; he was swelling out just as he felt like he was, only much more than he thought. His beginner paunch had turned into a full-blown beer belly from the looks of it, and was just getting bigger at a steady pace as he rubbed over it. Sol wasn’t terribly surprised by this, but he was fascinated by it. He just watched that belly of his swell, and only his belly for that matter as it grew thicker, rounder, and tighter as time went on. The whole process was ceaseless, just more growing and stretching and growing and stretching. The skunk could also feel more and more alcohol forming in him, or bubbles; he wasn’t sure which. There was definitely more inside him than there had been to start, and the skunk had to wonder just how that was possible. He hadn’t drank more, that much was for sure, but he could just feel the liquid forming and bubbling up in him.
Sol glanced at the table as he realized this, and immediately saw the culprit from the table. The glass which he had drank from was full again, and even began to overflow in spite of the fact that nothing was being poured into it. The skunk had to wonder just how that was happening as his stomach went from beer belly into being downright fat. It was still taut as a drum too, looking like a beachball attached to the skunk’s torso. He hadn’t worn a shirt, like most furs, but even his pants were beginning to feel the strain of such a massive ball being forced onto them. There was no fat being put into the skunk just yet, but there was starting to be more booze than blood in his body, and that was starting to affect the beast in a rather obvious way. Sol was getting drunk, and it was going to be one hell of a drunk if the continued flow of beer kept up.
Further and further he swelled, all of the bar patrons gaping and pointing at him now that they had all noticed. Sol’s table finally tipped over from so much stomach being forced onto it, and the skunk hiccupped drunkenly as he felt the release of pressure on his painfully tight gut. His whole body was slowly starting to fill with booze too, his gut nearing its limits in the skunk’s inebriated mind. There was no way he could hold more in there, so it had to go somewhere in him. The beer did too, flowing down into his thighs first and starting to bloat them out. It was hardly fattening or sloshing, just like they were being pumped full of the excess carbonation. It went into his chest too, bloating that out into more of a bump along the sphere of his gut rather than a pair of bloated moobs. The skunks lower legs and arms lagged behind though, getting no love from the carbonated forces building inside the fur, nor the liquid which was continuing to replicate itself over and over in his gut. Sol didn’t really care though now, for he was teetering on passing tipsy into full-blown drunk at the moment, and just trying to rub what little he could still reach of the ball belly now attached to him.
A few moments later, the skunk’s fate to just grow until the booze said otherwise was sealed. The chair beneath him broke, and sent the sloshing, hiccupping mass of fur onto its back. Sol grunted loudly and yelped a bit at the sudden slam down onto his back, the weight of all in his middle sloshing heavily above him. He could feel his stomach still growing, still stretching, and reaching new heights above him. It was spread out nearly as wide as his arms could reach, and was just about brushing his ankles at that point. His head was forced to look back from the mass coming up and resting roughly against his chin. It didn’t really move so much as it spread, much like a balloon on a constant hose. The gasses being built up weren’t helping either, as the need to belch for the skunk was becoming one of his main priorities. HIs pants were still somehow intact beneath the massive ball of gut he had, but the button had long ago snapped off and the fall had snapped more than a few seams. All in all, Sol was trapped.
The panda bartender walked his way over towards the skunk now, bending down and getting a look at the red and blue eyes on him. Looking back with a red set of his own, he just smiled and gave the slowly growing sac of beer on the skunk a hearty slap just for good measure. Another hiccup came as a result of that, along with a slurred, inaudible complaint from the gut’s owner. He was well and truly sloshed at this point, all of the beer in his system making him truly drunk. Shaking it up and having to hold it was only speeding up this process, but strangely he wasn’t going anywhere past drunk; there was at least some mercy from the creator of this plight. The panda stood up once he saw that and gave the ball of beer another slap, eliciting another groan and a louder complaint from the skunk. The ursine didn’t care though, and simply removed his apron and laid it out on the skunk’s immense, swelling surface. He then turned to face the crowd of onlookers, adjusted his tie, and began to walk towards the door.
“Four,” he murmured on his way out, and Sol caught that. His drunken mind took a long moment to process that, and it had a comeback for anything right now it was so far-gone. With all the drunken snarkiness he could muster, he tried to point and succeeded only in poking his massive gut. His words came out slurred and barely as words, more like sounds. A few understood him though, and had to wonder if there was just something between the panda and the skunk.
“No YOU’RE four!”