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", "count": "7", "submission_right_submission_id": "3417472", "submission_right_file_name": "5198499_Jethrabbit_a_tempting_offer_1.txt", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/5198/5198499_Jethrabbit_a_tempting_offer_1.jpg", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/5198/5198499_Jethrabbit_a_tempting_offer_1.jpg", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/5198/5198499_Jethrabbit_a_tempting_offer_1.jpg", "submission_right_thumb_huge_x": "300", "submission_right_thumb_huge_y": "140", "submission_right_thumb_large_x": "200", "submission_right_thumb_large_y": "93", "submission_right_thumb_medium_x": "120", "submission_right_thumb_medium_y": "56" } ], "description": "Sibada, a vicious, greedy rat and her band of forty thieves take advantage of a cunning orphaned fox, and unknowingly create a monster that will destroy them all.\n\nWhats this, a new story?! Yes, it sure is. This was a collab between myself and Sigil-Prince, and its probably the darkest story I've ever come up with. Sigil did most of the writing, and I added on to a few of my favorite scenes.\n\nCheck out Sigil's page here and if you like his work drop him a note about commissions. http://www.furaffinity.net/user/sigil-prince\n\nPart One: You are here.\n\nPart Two: https://inkbunny.net/s/3417472\n\nPart Three: https://inkbunny.net/s/3417478\n\nPart Four: https://inkbunny.net/s/3417540\n\nPart Five: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/48440541/", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Sibada, a vicious, greedy rat and her band of forty thieves take advantage of a cunning orphaned fox, and unknowingly create a monster that will destroy them all.

Whats this, a new story?! Yes, it sure is. This was a collab between myself and Sigil-Prince, and its probably the darkest story I've ever come up with. Sigil did most of the writing, and I added on to a few of my favorite scenes.

Check out Sigil's page here and if you like his work drop him a note about commissions. http://www.furaffinity.net/user/sigil-prince

Part One: You are here.

Part Two: https://inkbunny.net/s/3417472

Part Three: https://inkbunny.net/s/3417478

Part Four: https://inkbunny.net/s/3417540

Part Five: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/48440541/", "writing": " It was not difficult to imagine Rakooma a barbarous place. Surrounded by the dunes of the mighty Southern Desert, far from the seat of the Empire, the small city was often characterized by travelers as a bone-dry labyrinth inhabited by merchants, thieves, and the occasional insane cultist. But, there was much about Rakooma its residents prized.\n\n   For one, the law was strict, but merciful. The Empire's strong aversion for violence and the Southern Continent's dislike of imprisonment combined to make Rakooma's courts among the gentlest in the world. Here, there were no beheadings or public floggings, which were so common elsewhere in the desert. The few public punishments were humiliating, but not painful, and the rare death sentence happened out of sight. Here, too, the labor camps and prisons were replaced with community service and heavy fines.\n\n   For two, the gods of the world did not trouble Rakooma with wars. The city, though it was filled with strange beliefs and stranger customs, rarely suffered from conflict. Here, the Empire's Church and the First Temple's priests could walk down the same street and speak as friends. Though people still feared and distrusted the solitary sorcerers and the secretive cults, no one dared raise a paw to them. Even the prostitutes that worshiped the Sacred Self-Devouring Serpent, Ouroboros, so hated everywhere else, ran their brothel-temples without fear.\n\n   For three, the city's merchants were good people. Though Rakooma seemed at times a plutocracy, it was so only because the elders of the place welcomed the words of those who would feed the city in a famine or provide water in a drought free of charge. Bribery was unheard of, and those few who would upset that state of affairs often found both their fellow traders and Rakoom'a Elder Council turning against them.\n\n   Thus, the old city in the desert was, for most, a Utopia in the sands, not a fiery Hell. Of course, a few suffered within its walls, and would describe the place as unjust or even evil, but their opinions were rarely asked by good citizens.\n\n   Sibada was not a good citizen.\n\n   “You must be in a hurry to die, kit. You hate this place so much, or something,” she growled, staring down at the street urchin standing bravely before her.\n\n   He was a fox, a pitiful beggar, a runt of the litter. Ribs, painfully visible under his sparkling silver fur looked broken in several places, and badly healed. He looked no older than ten, but Sibada suspected he was simply stunted by starvation and illness. In spite of all that, the vulpine stood in her way on the crowded main street, and demanded money, something no other creature dared do.\n\n   The beggars of Rakooma were not stupid. A six-foot-eight rat wearing nothing but a blue cloak and sand-white pants, a sword at her hip and several tough-looking males following her was not the sort of generous soul they depended on for survival. Her bare breasts, each as big as her head, suggested she worshiped Ouroboros, but she lacked the cultist's ecstatic smile and submissiveness. She was the picture of wild rodent beauty, untamed by male or female, forged by blade-work. To the practiced eye of an ascetic or hobo, she was a bandit. The silver fox before Sibada was probably just desperate.\n\n   “I hate this place, but I love life,” he answered, looking up at her, past her heavy tits, into her eyes, completely unafraid.\n\n   “You know who I am,” she growled.\n\n   “Yes, I know you have money,” the kit said, and a smile that did not touch his eyes appeared on his unwashed face. “It is honorable to give to the poor.”\n\n   Sibada chuckled. The bandits behind her shuffled back involuntarily. No one wanted blood on their clothes.\n\n   “Do I look like I hold to any faith this dune-feeding town would preach?” She grinned, jiggling her breasts with a paw, her other coming to rest on her scimitar's handle.\n\n   The silver fox met her grin with his own cold smile, as predatory as the rat.\n\n   “This is Rakooma. It is not going to feed the dunes any time soon. And, there are golden minarets of the First Temple just three streets down. Every second week of the month, the priests go on a drinking binge, and anyone can walk into their inner sanctum, and rob them blind. You know, it's the second week of the month...” The fox raised a paw up to Sibada.\n\n   “Well, well. This one knows my faith.” She laughed, her potbelly jiggling before the kit's eyes, her paw slipping off the sword's pommel. “It is indeed honorable to give to the poor... when they have something to offer me.”\n\n   “How valuable,” the fox asked, his open paw shaking slightly from the effort of holding it out.\n\n   “Ten gold.” Sibada nodded to Harl, her faithful tiger, and he produced some coins from a bag around his waist, stepping up to drop them to the beggar.\n\n   “Twenty.” The boy stepped back from the large feline.\n\n   There was a moment, in which the bandits expected their leader to slay the child where he stood. The street was narrow, empty of people, and the shut doors of its houses were blasted by the sands of the wind. A beggar dying here would be a mystery no guard would pursue. Sibada's tail lashed like a whip, and she rumbled like a thundercloud, her eyes going from mirthful to furious in a moment. Then, the moment passed, and her smile returned.\n\n   “Fifteen, and I expect you to work for me from now on.” The large rat leaned down to glare right into the vulpine's green eyes. “You're coming with us for the robbery, and if you do anything funny, I will slice you in half. Now, what do you call yourself, street-trash?”\n\n   The fox's jade eyes lit up, and Sibada saw him transform into a child in an instant, hopping with joy. She wondered where the cold, calculating creature she was dealing with disappeared to, but cast the thought aside. He was only a child, even if he had some strength in him.\n\n   “Thank you for taking me with you! I'm Varkude! I promise I'll be good!” He eagerly grabbed the coins from Harl, and shuffled close to Sibada, his arms open.\n\n   The rodent hissed with disgust, and stepped back.\n\n   “What the fuck do you think you are doing, you little vermin? I said you work for me. I didn't say I was your mother,” she spat down at him.\n\n   He stepped back smartly, and as they walked, followed behind her, like her bandits. Sibada smirked, adjusting her cloak. She was a tough, powerful creature, not some simpering mouse wife, and the kit had to know his place, the rat told herself.\n\n   The temple proved just as deserted as Varkude said. Sibada's boys broke open the ceremonial jars, collected the gold inside them, and walked out of the First Temple before any of the priests stumbled in. It was the perfect job.\n\n   “Good work, Vark.” A fat jackal, Orrib, clapped the tiny fox on the shoulder when they were safely away from the golden minarets and the confused, angry shouts of the drunk priests. “You wanna come with us and celebrate?”\n\n   Sibada wrinkled her nose. Before Varkude could open his mouth, she turned around.\n\n   “He stays right where we found him. He got us the easiest job we've ever pulled. He can do it again,” she said. “And, besides, don't you have a whore to visit? Wouldn’t that be inconvenient with a kit.”\n\n   The jackal was a pervert, a glutton, and a shortsighted fool, but Sibada knew he would never stand against her. And, their haul was quite substantial. Orrib nodded, grumbling, and stomped after her like an obedient pet, leaving Varkude behind, the silver fox staring after them in shocked betrayal. He looked down at his paw. Fifteen gold pieces and three more for the job glittered before his eyes.\n\n   Varkude sighed. He was not Sibada's child or her bandit.\n\n   Years passed.\n\n   The fox obeyed his mistress. But, if he hoped for a generous, kind bandit to take him under her wing and teach him her ways, he chose poorly. Instead of adventure, he was beaten and taunted. Instead of money, Sibada always paid him in food or clothes, treating the necessities as rewards. She saw only a resource to be exploited at as little cost to herself as possible. Soon, he was only her slave, and rather than blossoming into a fox worthy of respect in spite of his occupation, Sibada forged him into a ragged, starving informant, clutching every bit of copper as if it was his life.\n\n   Sibada made her home in a cave nestled among the rocky dunes outside the city, and over ten years, made a fortune off the orphan. Varkude would listen to the city guards, playing the role of a beggar, and come to her cave bearing news of merchants, tax caravans, and other opportunities to make gold without much work. And every time she looked at her vast wealth Sibada heard a faint whisper from her hateful heart. Without the fox, she would have still been a wandering bandit, and her boys would be only a bunch of beggars with knives and swords. She wished dearly that she did not need him, and every time he acted as if he were her son, she became furious. Vanity, envy, and fear mixed in her, and she tried to dull his mind and break his body, waiting for the day he would be useless to her.\n\n   “Shouldn't Varkude be a member of our little band by now? He's been in the city for ages! The guards will catch on someday, and then they'll have him killed, all quiet-like,” said one of her bandits one night after they settled down for drinks.\n\n   “He's only good at one thing. Keeping his eyes and ears on the business of the city. He doesn't know the sword, or the map, or anything else,” she hissed back before returning to her drink.\n\n   “But, we could teach him. Maybe, someday, we could even,” her faithful began.\n\n   “We? You mean ME! I see how you look at me when I talk to him. You're waiting for me to soften up! Well, I won't. And, y-you can all fuck yourselves with your swords.” She hiccupped slamming a fist on the table.\n\n   After that, no one spoke with her about Varkude. It was clear that only the stream of gold he provided kept her from killing him, so poisoned was her mind. Even for a criminal, Sibada was an evil creature. A part of her loved that, wallowing in the dark thoughts and rough pleasures of cruelty.\n\n   But, Varkude only seemed to become a victim. Every day, he would take his lumps and disappear, looking for his fortune. In the city, he would beg enough coppers to begin saving up. Every once in a while, he would even steal some gold during Sibada's own robberies, pocketing a piece or two. In ten years, he had a hoard of his own, a modest pile of coins buried somewhere no one knew. Years of abuse gave him preternatural patience and sharpened his wit instead of breaking him. He found that complimenting the vain rat's looks and being openly in lust with her made her feel better about having him around. The truth, of course, was more complicated.\n\n   Varkude loved Sibada, and unable to find himself a mother, he found a monster he desired but could never have. After a decade of serving her and her band, the silver fox's soul became twisted. His lust found its outlet in sadism, in fantasies of destroying everything the rat was. Looking at her chest, still as full and perky as it ever was, he longed to bite the breast-flesh, to draw blood. Masturbating in his pitiful hovel within the city walls, well away from the bandit cave, Varkude imagined the rat's eyes wet with tears as he took her like a whore. Eventually, even those fantasies were not enough, his hate building up so much the fox desired her death in a slow, horrible way.\n\n   When he came to her one day with news of a caravan of gold from the royal treasury coming to the city in only two days, she laughed and even poured him some wine. The prospect of such a big score made her giddy, and she promised herself she would at last reward the poor boy with a nice, hard fuck. In spite of her cruelty, he was not ugly. A bath and a change of clothes, and Sibada could even imagine him in some palace, serving the local ruler. He was no child, now, and he was obviously not against it! His poems declaring his need for her 'bountiful behind' were especially flattering.\n\n   Things seemed possible that she would have previously only dreamed of, and she felt herself becoming softer. Sibada decided it was the wine, and withdrew the promise, forgetting the fox entirely as she thought of the piles of gold her cave would have now, of the wonderful things she could buy in the city.\n\n   When the time arrived Sibada came out to meet her wealth half-way. She and her trusted band waited on the road, well away from the city and its guards. Though Sibada was impatient to get her paws on the gold, she was no fool. Every bandit wore a thin canvas cloak over their normal clothes, to better blend in with the sand. Each one hid behind a dune or rock facing the road. Sibada knew just how to ambush the caravan, even one as heavily guarded as the king's. She sat behind her rock, drooling at the sight of the camels loaded with supplies and fat sacks of coin. With glee, she noted that the many, many bags were each as big as her breast. The coins within would be a difficult haul to store in her cave. Sibada would have to have the stuff buried, somewhere safe.\n\n   When it looked like the caravan was in their midst, surrounded on all sides by hidden bandits, Sibada yelled, jumping out from behind the worn boulder, and charged the nearest of the royal guards. She heard their weapons were coated in poisons, so wasted no time on threats of negotiation. She took off his head with a single swing, stabbed an official who was trying to climb a camel to escape, and looked around, watching the rest of the carnage.\n\n   Her forty thieves made short work of the guards, the royal fools stumbling around to get cut to ribbons by the better organized, well-watered force. Supplies and bodies were hastily buried, blood covered in sand, and the road cleared of any signs of trouble. The camels were led back up the road a few miles, and then around some rocks, the patient, dumb animals accepting their new masters with the same reluctance that they showed their original owners. Then, when they were far enough away, Sibada gave the order, and the beasts of burden were killed, and covered in sand themselves. Her fortune would be safe in the dunes until the royals stopped looking for their stolen gold.\n\n   A few of the risk-loving bandits did take a bit of coin for themselves, and she did not even stop them. She was giddy, her blood singing in her veins, her every breath tasting as sweet as rose preserve. She won! Not even a scratch on any of her people! Finally, everything was perfect, and she was going to be the richest rat in the whole kingdom. Even the royals in their palace would be envious, someday! She sent her band to the city to enjoy themselves, laughing about their greatest robbery, and hurried to her cave. All that violence and excitement made her too fierce to enjoy the quiet city, she told them. But, the truth was, she was furious with Varkude. Once again, the silver fox gave her a fortune, and this time, she was set for life. She hated herself for even considering being kind to the orphan. In her mind, he was already a powerful bandit, and she, merely a fat, rich nanny for the thieves. Varkude was no longer a tool, the fox had become a threat. He had to be put down!\n\n   When she stormed into her cave, yelling for the pathetic young vulpine, she wondered why he did not come running. He was never late, even for a punishment. Sibada sighed, her anger simmering down quickly. She was, after all, fabulously rich now. Why was she so obsessed with being strong and fierce? What did she have to lose with her band? Why treat the fox so badly? But, as she sat there alone, pondering these things while staring at the cold ash of the previous night's fire, she did not hear Varkude sneaking up on her.\n\n   A single hit from a shovel, and she went down like a sack of flour, flopping over unto her side. Consciousness came back in spurts, her head continuing to swim for what felt like hours. She heard banging, felt herself roughly maneuvered. Once, she feebly fought back, but found her fist striking only thin air. When her delirium passed, her legs and feet were bound to thick iron nails driven into the hard, rocky floor of the cave. She was stuck on her back, staring at the ceiling of her old home. No clothes, no weapon at her side, and only hunger and thirst in her belly. The rat was out for a long time. A simple sleeping mat lay beneath her, and Sibada felt something soft underneath her ass. She looked over, and saw Varkude, smiling like he did when he first met her, a calculated, predatory smirk. He had a fire built, and was busy stirring an enormous cooking pot.\n\n   “Good evening, my lady,” he cried, and she flinched, his eyes flashing with a cold, hateful rage she so often heaped upon him.\n\n   “Ah...hello...Varkude,” she said nervously. “Could you untie me now?”\n\n   “I don't think that would be wise. You only came back here from your greatest triumph to beat me for delivering it to you on a silver platter. And now, I have you at my mercy. Were I to release you now, you would slice me open on the spot.” He chuckled, raising a ladle to his nose, sniffing. “But, don't worry. I will let you go when you no longer present a threat to me. I promise.”\n\n   “You fucking bitch-fox! I'm gonna rip you open and stuff your gut with shit, sew you back up, and throw you down the nearest well to drown and bloat up like the worthless stinking ghoul-feed that you are,” she shrieked, pulling at her restraints, succeeding only in wiggling, her tail lashing this way and that.\n\n   “Funny you should mention stuffing guts. The Capitol has a history of punishing especially horrible criminals by feeding them and then hanging them from the city walls. The last such execution was way before our time, before the Empire came to the South, so you've never had a chance to witness it. I, on the other paw, was fortunate enough to watch this grand spectacle just the other day. It was quite the show. Too bad you missed out!” Varkude laughed as she continued to curse him, barely hearing his words.\n\n   “My dear Sibada, you waste your breath on curses and threats.  Try to relax, we will be spending a lot of time in this cave, you and I. So, let me tell you what happened.” The fox patted her belly, and continued stirring the pot.\n\nVVV\n\n   The fox, dressed in fine clothes, washed, and his whiskers oiled with perfumes came to the city guards, and told them he had overheard a group of toughs talking about the royal caravan and how it would never reach the capital. They carried an awful lot of coin for people so badly dressed, the young silver fox added. The pair of city defenders did not even recognize Varkude without his ever-present rags and mud-caked fur. They thanked him for his information, and promised to spread the word throughout the city.\n\n   The next pair of guards he met got a similar story, and this time Sibada's name was mentioned. A third pair of guards, stationed further down in the city's poorer districts were simply bribed to add rape to the charges hanging over the forty thieves. In a single day, the gang went from a whispered secret among the beggars and a mystery to the guards to the most wanted criminals in the city. The pickpockets of Rakooma shouted about Sibada's disgusting lust for the flesh of the dead. The priests finally had someone to blame for their sacred jars being shattered years ago. Prostitutes and drug dealers of the market swore to everyone they met they had no dealings with Sibada's people, and never would, after what she said about their trades. Even the tax collector suddenly found the identity of her brother's killer that day.\n\n   It did not take long after that for the infamous bandits to be brought before the judges of the city. Grabbed from their many celebrations, they were dragged into the largest law chambers of the capital. The courthouse filled with people from every walk of life, from humble food merchants to the highest ranking officials.  Everyone carried an accusation, rumor, or complaint. Some brought swords and demanded to duel the accused. A few offered their services as executioners, unashamed of their skills.\n\n   The judges, four older meerkats and a groundhog, unused to the chaos around them, consulted the books, and could find no precedent. This was the single worst group of criminals anyone had ever seen. Their crimes would take up an entire book in the legal library to describe, and any punishment they received would be a mercy. So, the five judges had no choice. The Empire's officials would complain, but without Southern justice, the city would be plunged into chaos.\n\n   “Rakooma is a trading city, and our coin is valued highly. But, the highest value belongs to our promises. This group of degenerates stopped the royal palace's delivery of coin into our city. They made it impossible for our banks and our businesses to obey the word of their contracts. They tarnished everyone's name, dishonoring clans and families, guilds and priesthoods alike. Worse than that, these monsters are accused of every other crime we have on record. No defense, no investigation could possibly prove them innocent before the law,” the groundhog spoke, his hoarse voice enough to shut up even the loudest present in the courthouse. “Many years ago, we gave up on the punishments our ancestors invented. We chose kindness over cruelty. But, today, I take on the heavy burden of declaring these forty... animals worthy of the most torturous execution our city has ever given a prisoner.”\n\n   No one raised a paw to silence the city elder.\n\n   “The court passes this sentence, in the knowledge that all of us must carry it out. There will be no privacy. No pretense of honorable suicide. So, fetch your oil, your rice, and your ropes,” he said, and turned to the forty bandits. “Prepare to enter the gates of whatever Hell you believe in.”\n\n   The accused begged for mercy, tried to defend themselves, to sell each other out, but the applause of the mob drowned them out. Each was grabbed up by the crowd, guards doing nothing but helping the furious people, and carried them, struggling, up to the city walls. Vast stores of oil were brought, and even greater stores of rice. Before sundown, the forty were assembled. Each was forced to swallow mouthfuls of oil and rice until they looked so full they would burst, and then flung from the wall, their paws tied together, the rope anchored safely to the walls. Their deaths were horrible, but only a few stuck with Varkude.\n\n   “Please! I only stole! I don't deserve this,” the tiger, Harl, screeched in a high-pitched, whining tone the silver fox had never heard from the right paw of Sibada before. “Please! Don't!”\n\n    He was held down by so many paws that his muscles meant nothing. The big cat might as well have been a kitten. They forced his mouth open, almost breaking his jaw, and Harl mewled in agony, eyes desperately searching for someone, something to spare him. As the first spoon-fulls of oil-drenched rice entered his mouth, the mass sliding down his throat in spite of his efforts to hack it up, Harl saw Varkude. Wide, pleading eyes filled with tears, and his struggles briefly renewed. A guard kicked him in the groin, and the feline whimpered, accepting his fate.\n\n   The crowd fed him more and more. The rice piled within his gut, weighting down on the cat's organs. Sometimes, he sought to bite the paws stuffing him, but each time, his jaws were forced open, and more slimy, bland rice went down his gullet. Soon, his once-slim stomach resembled a sack filled to its limit, his guts painfully shifting with each new mouthful. Bruises formed, grew, encompassing his whole middle, whatever was visible beneath the thinning fur gaining the color of dried wine, blood pooling just beneath the skin. The purple soon turned dark blue in splotches, and Harl shivered each time they shoveled rice out of the cauldron, anticipating the agonizing stretching of his skin. Finally, the crowd was satisfied with the tiger's last meal. A rope was hastily wrapped around his arms, and he was lifted up by the mob.\n\n   “No No No NOOO! PLEASE,” he shrieked, flailing as his overstuffed body was heaved over the wall.\n\n   He fell, screaming and clawing at the air. The rope ended too soon. Jerked back up for a moment, and Harl managed a pitiful squeal. Varkude looked down on the weakly kicking tiger, smiling cruelly. The heavy rice in his stomach pulled the cat down even more than his well-toned muscles. His dangling maleness seemed to swell for a moment, as if he would enjoy the end, but ultimately, there was not enough time even for that mercy. Gasping, bulging eyes rolling in his head, Harl felt his hide part. He instinctively kicked, as if to get away from the inevitable. His belly button ripped, the navel stretching open wider and wider. The tiger drooled onto his chest and enormous stomach, limbs slowing their struggles, muscles exhausted from holding on. All too soon for the crowd, the bandit fell to twitching, and went limp, his muscles giving up the fight. Harl's swollen belly tore asunder, spilling its contents out unto the rocks below.\n\n   The next to catch Varkude's attention was the jackal Orrib. He was no one special, of course. Merely another in a long line of robbers to be filled and thrown over the wall to dance their last. But, the bored crowd saw how his potbelly jiggled a little, saw his wider hips and his soft feminine body. Worse, they saw his shameful secret. Orrib, Varkude already knew, was a creature of lust, who hired the prostitute cultists of Ouroboros often and even partook of their sacred drugs. His cock, grown hard at the thought of being force-fed by the angry mob, betrayed him as a self-destructive lover of pain. Jeering, many paws tugged at his thick member, played with his fat balls, patted his gut as it slowly grew. The attention was too much.  Orrib eagerly gulped down the slick paw-fulls of rice, licking the swarms of paws affectionately as they came and went. Distracted by his arousal, the people simply kept feeding Orrib. He, for his part, did not resist, accepting the tasteless meal with pleasured moans. The silver fox watched with interest as the jackal's once chubby belly rounded and bulged farther and farther from hips that thrust into the air, his dick poking out from under it, twitching and drooling, close to climax. \n\n                  At first he looked merely pregnant, his belly smooth and round, the once deep hollow of his bellybutton stretched into a puckered hollow at its peak.  Devoid of fur the twisted nub throbbed, on the verge of popping outwards completely.  One guard pushed through the crowd with a large ladle bearing at least three pounds of tasteless rice slop.  It dripped with oil, and without hesitating the guard shoved it into the jackal's gasping muzzle.  Orrib flopped and twitched, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he struggled to swallow the tremendous amount of grain.  With an agonized squelch the muscles of his throat finally sent the lump into his packed guts, and with a meaty pop the Jackal's belly button launched outwards, thick and rounded like a nipple. Varkude could have sworn he heard flesh squeezed and deformed by sheer weight as he watched Orrib's gut tighten, the stuffing showing through the thinning hide.  It reminded the fascinated fox of an egg sac, or a leather bag heavy with coin.  It hung low between his wide spread legs, lashed with widening red stripes, twisted and contorted by the mass of rice continuing to expand within him. Orrib's belly button was now a disgusting, bleeding whorl on his stomach, a red mountain pulsing as if preparing to become a volcano, each panting, lustful breath threatening to end him before his time.\n\n   Please...please...just...make me cum...I don't wanna die...please!” he whined, and a prostitute in the mob laid down before his throbbing length, now buried and pushed low between his thighs by the jackal's groaning tortured stomach, and pushing his aching gut upwards with her head the eager fennec wrapped her mouth around his cock-head, sucking the bandit off in one last humiliation.  A few spectators stepped forward with a length of rope, and taking either side hoisted the tortured bag of organs upwards, giving the young prostitute better access.  Orrib gagged as his throbbing belly was pushed upwards into his lungs.  The rope slung below his darkening pink and red mottled hide caused the jackal's belly to jut far before him now, drooping downwards towards its peak to rest on the head of the fennec whose lips engulfed his throbbing length.\n\n   A cultist of Ouroboros, she went into her task with enthusiasm. Perhaps, he had failed to pay her enough for her services before, thought Varkude. The others, for all their blood-lust, were taken aback, and let the busty fennec go about her business. In moments, the jackal went into a spasm, panting and gasping, clutching at his stomach as climax robbed him of control. Cumming into her mouth, he awkwardly humped into her, his belly flopping upwards for a brief moment with a heavy slosh, convulsing and groaning wetly, and something within him tore. In an instant, his lumpy gut was slashed by gashes of deep purple that dripped with red, his hide unable to handle the pressure. The fennec wiggled out from under him and stepped back, giggling. Hot blood poured over his squirting erection, over his ball sack, down his legs, instantly washing away his cum. He squealed, eyes tearing up, and was thrown over the wall before he could realize his reprieve was over.\n\n   The male jackal's body was not as strong as Harl's, and his gut already carried far more than any creature before him. His plump body hit the end of the rope, his shoulders straining, paws nearly breaking in the midst of a pitiful cry for help. Orrib's words turned into desperate yelping and whimpering. His cum-leaking body shivered, and the skin holding back all his innards broke at last. Oil and rice-crusted entrails tumbled from the jackal's body, blood and meat and grain splashing down below. Emptied and broken, the husk of the jackal spurted blood like a broken cask, and his blinking, shocked eyes froze in a perfect expression of terrified lust.\n\n   Varkude could not resist after that show. Even knowing that the bandits could reveal him, the silver fox grabbed a paw-full of rice from a nearby cauldron, and headed for a pitifully whimpering hyena. The bandit recognized him the moment the vulpine's paw thrust into his maw, but he was already too stuffed to do much more than try to chew before the next mouthful arrived and whine up at Varkude. The fox knelt alongside several other 'concerned citizens' running their paws over the swollen male's gut. Trembling, he put a claw on the stretched hide. It felt taut, turgid, almost like a pregnancy, the hyena's organs fighting for space while overfilled, making strange, liquid noises that sent Varkude into new shivers of pleasure. Something about the surrender, humiliation, and lust of the bandit before him gave the fox more than any fantasy he ever came up with. Doing his best to cover his erection, Varkude stood up, and retreated back into the crowd to lean against one of the emptied rice cauldrons and watch what happened next.\n\n   He longed to paw the hyena and shower him in insults, or to at least keep feeding him as the crowd did, but Varkude knew himself. Once he was aroused, the silver fox would not stop, not even if it meant discovery. No, thought the fox. He would wait until he could be alone with someone special...\n\n   The hyena's stomach soon wobbled with his weak struggles, colored like a sickly berry, red and pink streaks marring its spherical surface. To Varkude's surprise, there was no bruising. The hyena simply stretched, and then kept stretching. Perhaps, it was the alcohol he smelled on the bandit's breath, or the way the hyena's skin strained. Though his sides looked ready to rip, the unfortunate male was hard as a rock between his legs thanks to the constant attentions of many paws caressing and slapping his belly and thighs. Satisfied with his stuffed state, or simply bored of him, the crowd shoved him off the wall as soon as he went limp and his breathing grew shallow.\n\n   Arms wrenched back, the hyena had time to hang in place, mouth opening and closing in agony. Varkude smiled as he saw the tell-tale squirming of red lines around the bandit's navel. The hyena spread his legs, raising them up around his gut as if giving birth, and with a long, drawn out howl, split down the middle a heartbeat later.\n\n   They chose a mink next. He wiggled out of the crowd's gasp, snapping his jaws and spitting curses, until some clever soul shoved his snout down into a cauldron. Suffocating on rice, the mink was forced to eat, until at last he quieted down, and chewed his last meal while draped over the massive metal pot. Varkude knew him as Knives. The sadistic weasel was known for torturing anyone who so much as raised their paw to him in a robbery, and now, he was dooming himself, eating more and more rice, until his stomach looked almost as big as the cauldron he desperately clung to. When they grabbed him, Knives screeched that he could keep eating. Then, as the edge of the wall approached him, the mink sobbed that he did not want to go to the Hell of Hot Stakes.\n\n   Varkude snorted with barely contained laughter. Of all the crimes to feel guilty about, the mink thought he was destined to damnation for taking it up the ass? The Northern Church Knives grew up with certainly had unusual ideas!\n\n   They threw the mink over the wall. He fell, as predictably as others, a sack of rice with legs, arms tied together. He shrieked and sobbed and gibbered in a panic the moment he recovered from the drop. At first, Varkude thought the weasel was about to burst asunder, but with each new scream, it became clear the mink was too stretchy for that. Though his gut could easily crush the silver fox beneath its size and weight, it’s practically fur-less expanse did not show many signs of strain. There were some veins, and the beginnings of stretch marks, but Varkude saw no reddening, no bruises. It was as if the mink was bottomless!\n\n   “Cut the rope,” a rabbit next to Varkude yelled.\n\n   “YEAH! CUT THE ROPE, CUT THE ROPE!” The cry was taken up by the crowd, and one of the guards produced a dagger from his belt.\n\n   “No! Please! Save me! Pull me up! Pleee-eease!” The mink sounded just like one of his own victims, now, legs scrabbling weakly against the wall behind him, trying to find purchase.\n\n   There was a dry snap, the twists of hemp holding Knives up failing. Varkude watched, mesmerized, as the mink tumbled downwards, shrieking all the way.\n\n   SPLABOOSH!\n\n   When the mink hit the rocks below, there was an explosion. He was, after all, too stuffed. His skin had just been strong enough to endure it until the bandit's middle met a sharp outcropping. He tore open spectacularly, blood and half-digested food flying up to splatter the wall. The crowd booed and cheered in equal measure.\n\n   By the time the last bandit was ready to be fed and thrown off the wall, the silver fox saw all he wished to see. Some, like the tiger, pleaded. Others, like the mink, fought. A few, in the grip of some insanity, pawed themselves and encouraged the crowd. One, a slim antelope, was so engrossed in the pleasure and pain of his punishment, that he came, and burst open before the crowd could throw him off the wall. The citizen executioners, covered in the bandit's last release and many pounds of stinking rice, rushed away, thoroughly sickened, though others soon took their place.\n\n   A fox, red and wiry, went to his fate crying in mourning as the final roped bandit. He grabbed the rice from the oily pot himself, and though the crowd still held him down, their rage was mostly appeased.  They were content to watch him stuff himself as he knelt before them, his stomach rounding into a heavy orb before their eyes. His name was Sul, and Varkude despised him. The other fox was lucky enough to join Sibada as an adult. His fur was always well-groomed, and his eyes always shone with glee. Now, though, Varkude was happy to see the fox defeated. He was no longer smiling. Instead, bloody drool from a guard's punch ran down his chin and over his white chest. He swallowed each mouthful with a grimace of pain. The silver vulpine guessed the bandit had a broken tooth. But, soon he looked as if he carried a litter of six, his swollen belly crisscrossed by stretchmarks and thick, pulsing veins. But, he was pregnant with death, not life, his gut barely churning. The fennec prostitute from before offered to give him a good send-off, and he nodded, weakly murmuring something Varkude could not hear.\n\n   The fennec laughed, and briskly pumped her paw on the fox's member, bringing him to hardness, and then allowing the whimpering, exhausted vulpine to cum. She cooed to him, rubbing oil over his bulging gut, her paw tips tracing the deep red and purple gashes that shined through his thinned fur. It was a cruel mercy, because the massage sensual and soothing to the unfortunate fox, while at the same time, jostling his sore, aching belly. He relieved himself in waves, cum spurting over his underbelly, coating the thicker downy, white fur. The white flood pooled in his shallow navel, ran down his oiled gut, only for the fennec to rub it into him. Sul cried out, again and again, enjoying a climax no one, including Orrib, could ever imagine. Just as Varkude was beginning to wonder if the red fox would be spared for his immense virility, the pleasure-stricken vulpine's production slowed, and sputtered out. Finally, his magnificent cock stopped its flow of seed, his balls emptied. He smiled sadly to the people around him, waved, and struggled to his feet, cradling his girth.\n\n   “Thank you. I deserve this for my many years with Sibada. She was not a kind rat, and I hope someday, she will know the punishment I am about to receive. Please, I beg you, pray for me in your temples and churches.” A tear ran down the fox's cheek, and he jumped off.\n\n   The force of the stop at the end of the rope burst him instantly, Sul having no time to even gasp before his heart emptied out unto the rocks down below. The corpse swung in a slow circle, sweat, oil, and cum running down his feet. Varkude wondered at Sul's guilt. Had the fox truly wanted to atone for his crimes so badly? The idea of giving into punishment like that never even occurred to the silver fox. It struck him as supremely stupid, and he shook his head as he left with the sadly murmuring crowd. He heard the words of one of the judges, a meerkat lady well into her sixth decade of life:\n\n   “When Sibada is caught, she will suffer a million times worse than this.”\n\nVVV\n\n   Halfway through his tale, Sibada grew quiet. She ran out of threats and insults to hurl, and the deaths of her boys, her entire band, weighted upon her. She found tears welling up in her eyes, and no matter how much she wished, they would not disappear.\n\n   “You...sold us out,” she asked, struggling not to sob. “How do you plan to get the gold?” “\n\n   What makes you think I need the gold from your latest robbery? I have all the fortune I need right here. Besides, I think the city guard recovered all the coin from that caravan already. One of your boys was so scared that he blabbed about its location. The mob didn't even wait for him to swallow; just kept shoving in rice until he split. You should have seen him, his gut was a magnificent crimson by the time it ruptured, you could even see his twisted organs through the paper thin flesh.\"\n\n   Varkude trailed off after that, a thin lipped smile upon his muzzle as he relived the moment. “B-but, I was gonna...,” the rat trailed off, remembering the countless times she deprived the silver fox of his fair share. The silver furred fox turned his head quickly, locking eyes with the rat and cutting her off. “I wanted to fuck you pretty badly for years, you know,” he said.\n\n   “Then, please, stop this madness! We have enough treasure here! If it's not split 42 ways, it's more than enough! Things can be different! I promise!” Sibada lied through her teeth.\n\n   Varkude laughed, but his eyes remained cold and lifeless. “How stupid do you think I am? I know what you really want to do to me right now.” Varkude shook his head. “No, I won't trust you until you've proven yourself safe.”\n\n   “You won't ever trust me,” she said. “I will always be a poisoned dagger at your back.”\n\n   “Sigh. Again with your threats. No matter, you'll be singing a different tune soon enough. I will come here every day, and show you all the care you never showed me.” Varkude ran a paw over her left breast as he spoke, squeezing the nipple roughly.\n\n   “Watching all those executions gave me the perfect idea for how I can help you become the perfect specimen of docile, trustworthy femininity. First, what you need is some meat on your bones.”\n\n   With that, he grabbed the ladle, and brought it to Sibada's lips. The rat grimaced, turning her head, but the smell of meat, broth and spices, combined with the bandit leader's hunger, eventually won. She drank the broth, chewed up the tiny bits of meat, and licked her lips, clenching her eyes shut to avoid his lustful, hate-filled gaze.\n\n   “You will eat, or I will slit your throat. Every day, you will finish this cauldron. Down to the last drop,” he snarled, banging his ladle against the blackened metal.\n\n   “But, it's bigger than I am...,” she whispered, horrified.\n\n  The silver fox before her was mad. She could not eat even a half of the cauldron, let alone the whole.\n\n   “Eat!”\n\n    He filled the ladle up again, and Sibada opened her mouth, shocked at her obedience. “It's starting to sink in, isn’t it? No one knows about this place. Without me, you will die here, tied to the ground. With me, you will blossom into what you should be.”\n\n   He spooned another mouthful into her, and then another. “Fuck you,” she snarled, nevertheless accepting more and more of the soup, drenching her breasts with the stuff, gulping as quickly as possible.\n\n   “I forgive you, Sibada. Please, have some more,” he nodded, encouraging the rat. Once her hunger was sated, the female rat tried to turn her face away from the ladle. A knife at her throat stopped all rebellion, and she gulped the stuff down. In an hour, Sibada felt fuller than ever. Her belly stuck out from her, a round melon that almost brushed her tits. It gurgled, visibly rising and falling with her labored breathing. Each swallow was accompanied by gagging and helpless, furious sobs. Protests vanished, and soon thereafter, all resistance. She mechanically opened her mouth to each new ladle, crying as Varkude gave her more and more delicious, painfully filling soup. It tasted heavenly, a mixture of bitter and sweet spices, some exotic meats, and just a hint of milk, but she could feel her innards on the verge of rupture. Her poor stomach and guts stretched so much Sibada feared each stabbing sensation heralded her doom.\n\n    The rat, now merely a prisoner of the mad fox, looked as if she were pregnant, full-term with twins. Her full, round tits rested on, and were spread apart by, a tightly packed belly. She could even see a faint line bisecting her now, running from between her breasts up to her delicate belly button. She was so full it was hard to think, but it registered that this meal had destroyed her beautiful hide already. Stretchmarks covered every surface of her massive globe, and her light brown fur, where it wasn't splattered with broth, looked to be sparse around her middle.\n\n  “Aww, I ran out of soup,” Varkude sighed, looking for all the world like a sad clown in a play, only his glinting eyes and full erection betraying how he really felt.\n\n  “Oh...thank gods,” Sibada gasped.\n\n   “Now, it's time to help you digest your first meal, my lady.” The silver fox cast aside the cauldron, and scooted closer to the rat.\n\n  “You...think...raping me,” she began, indignant, and found a paw on her mouth. “Please, my lady. While I will admit I am excited by your...growth, especially after having witnessed the lewd events in the city, you will not be merely a fuck-toy for me. You will accept me of your own volition soon enough. After all, how many times have you promised me a night with you?”\n\n  He giggled, pawing himself and running a paw through the pricked-up fur of her belly. Sibada shivered, in spite of herself. The new sensation of her stretched, torn skin being slowly rubbed by someone's paw sent shivers through her body. She struggled to think about her band, about her gold, but the food made her drowsy and weak. She whimpered, and humped upwards into his touch, causing her drum tight stomach to slosh and shift. Varkude laughed, and his other paw joined in, giving the rat a gentle belly massage. Then, things became horrible. Just as she was beginning to fall asleep, the horrors of the day exhausting what reserves she had left and the soft petting of her gut, the silver fox fell upon her with his whole weight. She squealed, eyes bulging, body shuddering as her stomach spread out under his paws, the press of the full-grown male on her innards almost enough to break her open there and then. She groaned, burping, and retched, but precious little soup left her.\n\n  “Please! Stop! I'm gonna burst,” she screamed the second her throat was clear, fighting back waves of nausea as Varkude sloshed her this way and that, his paws dragging across her gut in circles, pushing down roughly.\n\n  “No, you won't, my lady. You are going to grow more and more. I'm just getting you ready for tomorrow,” he calmly said. Her bonds held well. Sibada whined and begged, but he would not let up. To her surprise, however, her innards seemed to feel much, much better in only a little while. Where the fullness was an unpleasant weight in her, it was now more manageable. When Varkude was satisfied with her digestion, he stood up, erection dripping, and went to a corner of the cave the rat could not see. Soon, she heard wet smacking sounds, and in only a little while, the quiet gasps of release. Laying alone in the cave, warmed by the fire, too full to plot her escape, much less struggle, she could not help but imagine the young fox's length in her. Sibada shook her head, trying to clear the mist from her brain.\n\n    When the silver fox returned, his dick was flaccid, and instead of more groping and pressing, he brought a washcloth and a bucket of water. Despite her weak protests, she welcomed the cleaning. Sticky soup mixture clung to her fur, and she reeked of days in the desert.\n\n  “Thank you,” she whispered, wondering if the meal burbling away in her guts was drugged.\n\n  “I told you I would care for you.” He smiled down at her, and fished a rose-scented oil from behind the empty cauldron. “This will help you with the stretchmarks.” Sibada found herself accepting Varkude's service. If the fox planned to stuff her every day, paw himself furiously in some cold, dark corner out of her sight, and come back to wash her, she had a chance. No guards, no furious city-dwellers; the rat could rest, plan her moves, and wait for the heat to die down. Soon, she would be free, and the pathetic fool who thought he could tame her would be dead. She went to sleep while Varkude smeared thick oil over her gut, imagining her return to the city with another name and a fortune, perhaps a bit plumper, but no less powerful for it.\n\n   The next day, she awoke well past noon. Even after an entire night of digestion, she still felt larger, too bloated to do much. Her girth had shrunk slightly in the night, and her skin no longer felt on fire with tightness, but still she looked slightly overdue with child. Varkude helped her relieve herself, threw out the waste, and sat down with the cauldron on the fire again. He stirred the same delicious soup, as much as before, the stuff bubbling with fat chunks of meat, even larger than before.\n\n  Sibada gagged, but he put a paw on her stomach. With a gentleness that still surprised her the fox's paw tips rubbed soothing circles around her shallow innie, his palm pressing lightly into the lower swell of her ripe round abdomen. “My lady, do you need something to settle your stomach for today's meal?”\n\n   “Pleeease,” the rat whined, eyeing the metal pot that looked ready to overflow.\n\n   “Of course,” he smiled, and slowly poured wine into her eager mouth. With a hiccup, Sibada felt her insides relax, even at the prospect of the tremendous amount of soup. This time, she simply relaxed, and allowed the hours to roll by.\n\n   Once, she made the mistake of looking at her stomach. Sibada's body was adapting quickly to the feeding, but not quickly enough. Her breasts were already plumper, and almost a claw-width of fat had settled over her whole body. Her belly now rivaled the size of the cauldron itself, a smooth hill, its apex an outie belly button. Sibada let out a tiny gasp. Only that morning her shallow navel still felt as if it were deep enough to take more abuse, but now it stood thick and proud, silhouetted on the horizon of her tortured gut. Veins and stretchmarks were more pronounced, and even with the pampering her stomach received from Varkude, she knew nothing would erase the widening scars of her meals.\n\n   “You are more beautiful than ever,” she heard the whisper from her captor. “More beautiful, and much less angry.”\n\n   “You...drugged the food,” she panted, stumbling over the words. The sun had already set, and the cauldron was almost empty. The rat did not remember anything about the feeding, besides the last few delicious bites. There was only one explanation.\n\n   “No, no. You just never felt full enough before. This is what satisfaction REALLY feels like.” He laughed, and stuffed more meat into Sibada's mouth.\n\n  “You killed my friends.” She gulped down the food, but kept talking. “They were only a necessity of your trade. Without them, you yourself said this cave's loot would make you very rich.” Varkude nodded towards the piles of gold just a little distance away.\n\n “You still have me bound here, helpless.” Sibada sighed, realizing to her surprise that the fox knew her so well; even at their best, her boys were just tools for her greed and lust.\n\n  “And, you are enjoying yourself. You didn't struggle the whole day. You kept eating bite after bite, curling your toes and swishing that lovely tail. I know you are thinking of escaping and killing me.” The silver fox's smile turned mischievous. “But... you won't.”\n\n  “Varkude... please... let me go! I learned my lesson,” she whimpered up at him, sincerity creeping into what she thought was merely a lie to appeal to the crazy fox.\n\n  “This isn't a lesson,“ the vulpine's amber eyes turned cold again. “But, that new tone of voice is very welcome. Another couple of feedings, and I might let you out of your restraints, my big, beautiful rat.”\n\n   Sibada allowed Varkude to scoop the last bits from the cauldron right into her maw. One last swallow, and she felt the same agonizing fullness as before. But, somehow, the bizarre massage Varkude subjected her to felt less painful. She welcomed the rough kneading of her stomach, the pressure on her insides, even the odd feeling of food sloshing about in her. The former bandit leader knew her body was now larger than ever. She could feel her naked tail twitching in between her bigger ass cheeks, could feel herself weighed down by her own body in a thousand new ways. Even her chest felt different; her breasts felt softer, more sensitive. For the first time, she felt unquestionably lady-like, a fantasy popping into the overfed rodent's head: a hedonistic noble pampered by her servant. For a few blissful moments, Sibada's inhibitions disappeared. Her pussy wet, her panting breath more urgent, she lapped up the compliments and encouragements Varkude heaped upon her, just putty in the mad fox's paws. She opened her mouth to beg for the fox's maleness in her, but resisted the urge, biting back her desire. Instead, she focused her mind on the thick, root-like veins covering her stomach, on the tingling of her navel as each shallow breath caused it to push outwards, on the mind-boggling size she had become in only two days.\n\n   She failed. Her eyes strayed to the fox's maleness, eagerly anticipating every bump of Varkude's length against her enormous sphere of a belly. Varkude noticed her attention, and gently pressed his cock up against her side. His length didn’t make a dent in her rock hard orb, but as he slid it slowly back and forth along the side of her gut it brushed over the bruised purple blotches that marked burst blood vessels, and the roughly textured, ever widening gashes that striped her hide. Sibada instantly stilled, paralyzed by the strong heartbeats she felt reverberate through her stretched-out hide.\n\n  “Oh, gods,” she shrieked, struggling against the metal keeping her trapped. Even as she writhed, snarling, she wondered what she would do if she did escape now. Would she kill him? Or, as her desperate need sang to her, ride the fox until they both fell exhausted into sleep? She hated him. But, he was right! She needed to feel full, to feel so relaxed! She needed to be... noble. Sibada imagined herself in the cave, better appointed thanks to her fortune, lying upon cushions, a fattened queen, cared for by the lustful, twisted fox who she allowed to make love to her. The rat stilled, pacified by the fantasy playing in her head and the massage-improved action of her guts.\n\n   Varkude withdrew, looking more than a little aroused, his dick bobbing at the very edge of blissful release. He grinned down at the dull-witted rat, her mind clearly in some other realm.\n\n   “Whatever you are imagining now, I can provide for you,” he whispered, and walked away before she could say anything. Sibada tried to get his attention several times, but no matter how much she begged, he was either away from the cave or stubbornly refusing to heed her words. Rather than go hoarse, the rat chose to nap. Her dreams were full of food and wine and sex. The feeding continued after she awoke. More wine entered her, and more food helped her swell up even more. Now, her limit seemed to have doubled. Sibada could now fit her old body in her newly expanded gut, and she barely felt any pain when Varkude rubbed it for her. With pride, she lazily surveyed the pair of tits jiggling with each breath she took, grown several sizes overnight. Her nipples felt incredible, and when a stray paw brushed across her areola, the rat went into a seizure of need.\n\n  “PLEASE! JUST FUCK ME ALREADY,” she screeched.\n\n   Varkude nodded. It was going according to plan. The rose-scented oil he put on her after every feeding was far more than a bit of medicine. It was laced with alchemical mixtures he was assured would have any female humping in bliss. In his labyrinthine mind, the fox gloated that he hadn't lied about the food, and watched in glee as Sibada begged for his cock. Varkude knelt before the front of the rat’s oblong girth. It rested heavily on the stone floor between her legs, and jutted past here toes. Wrapping his paws around as much of her warm, vibrating solid gut as he could, the fox pressed into its mass, pushing it upwards into the air to gently position himself up against her entrance, rubbing his length over her drooling pussy lips. Her belly smothered his face, and Varkude nuzzled and licked the barren, battered surface as he thrust into her. Sibada was almost finished. Already, he could glimpse tell-tale redness and bruising under her skin, the hide pulling apart and deforming from the impossible gorging she was forced to endure, day after day.\n\n   “My lady, prepare yourself.” He hoped she would survive another week. She spread her thighs as much as she could while bound, answering his teasing rubbing with flustered squeaks and twitches. With each powerful stroke she gushed. No other male pleased her so, and the shock of reaching climax so quickly and unexpectedly had the rat gasping in confusion. Brief pangs of pain returned to her stomach as it was forced to bob and wobble in the fox’s strong grip, but she ignored them, desperately wiggling, helping the fox hump deeper into her. Sibada, for all that her new size and weight made things difficult, eagerly shoved herself unto Varkude. The fox, for his part, anticipated her early climax, and raised her to new heights of pleasure. Giggling in between pleasured gasps, he licked whatever he could reach of her gut. Mysterious drugs fizzling on his tongue, mixing with the rat's sweat, Varkude redoubled his efforts.\n\n   It was hours later that the two fell from each other, their bodies running out of strength at last. Varkude finally passed out atop her aching belly, his arms and legs spread wide to hug as much of her as he could. His slowly softening cock pressed into her thinned flesh and twitched every few seconds, pouring seed in great, white globs down the front of her gut and over her grapefruit sized, red and purple tinted navel. Sibada had no choice but to lay on her back, cursing her bonds, leaking liberally and squirting whenever a stray late-coming climax hit her. This strange after-sex cuddle was a welcome change, and in her blissed-out stupor, the rat felt only love for the master of agonizing pleasure who had uncovered her fantasies.\n\n   Gone was the child who would pull her down into motherhood. Gone, too, was the strong-willed, charismatic rival. Even Varkude the perverted kidnapper was wiped from the rat's memory. Only Varkude, the creator of her joy, the liberator of her appetites, remained. She dreamed of him in her, humping endlessly, cumming, growing her stomach with food and child until she could no longer even see her navel over the mountain of flesh she had become.\n\n   Waking up with a satisfied yawn, she blinked. Her body was sore, but pleasure still lingered in every corner of her mind. She readily gave into it, calling for Varkude to come to her aid. The fox shot up, and the two spent a few blissful minutes in heaven. Flopping over her belly, exhausted, Varkude barely had time to catch his breath before the rat begged for food. He laughed, and got the cauldron started. Hours later, and another love-making in, the rat surprised him.\n\n   “Please, can I have more,” Sibada asked.\n\n   “Of course, my lady. But, are you sure you can handle it?” His eyes were cold, but his tone of voice was that of a concerned lover. “Of course...*burp*... I can.” The rat giggled at herself.\n\n   Varkude looked over her form. Veins formed ugly branches of blue over her belly, the skin barely restraining Sibada's innards, pulled so thin that he thought he could glimpse the rat's stuffed entrails pressing up against it. Repeated overdoses of aphrodisiac had her nipples permanently engorged, her tits a pair of enormous melons that would make a milking cow green with envy. Her pussy looked fat, a puffy flower crowned with a clitoris bigger than the biggest cherry, leaking its juices all over the sullied sleeping mat beneath her. Whatever miracle of alchemy and slow feeding had allowed her to survive so far was growing weaker. Soon, she would end as other bandits. Worse, perhaps, for all the attention he gave her. But, for now, he could enjoy himself.\n\n   “Very well. But, I will have to put more oil on you... and, of course, fuck you more. Throughout the night. This soup takes a while, you know.” Varkude patted her stomach, producing a deep echoing thwump, and Sibada whimpered, eyes tearing up. The wine was not dulling her pain any more. Even after three massive jugs had been emptied into her cavernous guts the rat still shuddered and groaned with the sharp piercing ache that shot through every inch of her massive belly.\n\n   Varkude had very little time, now. He cooked more soup, staying up throughout the night, periodically humping her, or tending to her belly when it revolted with the contractions of her crushed abdominal muscles. He told her what he saw, and more. Sibada's belly button, long since lost from her view, now hung low on her bloated gut. The once thick, rounded nub had flattened out, becoming the center of a crimson flower. The line up her belly and down to her chest was similarly inflamed, and Varkude compared it to an exotic vine, from which that gorgeous blood blossom grew.\n\n   “My lady, you have almost completed your transformation,” he said, and ran a paw over her cheek. She leaned into it, eyes unfocused, her breathing a slow, labored gurgle.\n\n   “Please...more...” she begged. Sibada did not know how much time passed after that. Time after time, thick, warm soup slid down her throat, each mouth-watering bit of mysterious meat adding to her size. Oil was spread over her, literal bucket-loads of the strong-smelling perfumed goop running down her body. She was fattening, her body struggling to repair damage, to accept the food, but it was simply too much. The rat recalled throwing up, once. There was blood in her spit, but Varkude cleaned her off as always, and assured her she was beautiful. Nearly brain-dead, she told him she loved him. Asked about children. The silver fox laughed, a cruel, metallic sound that hurt her ears. But, he kept feeding her, kept making love to her, kept telling her she was becoming something amazing.\n\n   “Tomorrow, you will be freed. You have become the perfect female,” he told her, and she nodded, eager for the day that her wonderful fox would make her a queen.\n\n   And when she woke up, she was free. A full, steaming cauldron in front of her, and a mess of regretful memories surfacing in her mind. She felt sick, in mind and soul. She shifted, her bloated middle pinning her to the floor, her spine cracking painfully on the cold floor of the cave. But, her paws were free. She could reach the cauldron, now. She tried to drag herself away. A horrific slosh and a searing pain, like the rat's insides were being sliced open, kept her where she was.\n\n   Varkude appeared from behind the angry red and purple marbled mountain that pinned her to the ground, his meager belongings stowed away within his traveling pack. Noticing the dazed, weakened rat's loving gaze he stopped, flashing a predatory grin. \"Awake at last I see, well you’re just in time to say goodbye.\"\n\n   “B-but...why are ...gasp...you leaving ....I love you...” She struggled to remember how it happened, but somehow, the creature she should have hated now filled her only with desire and desperate, animal need to please.\n\n   “I told you, I would let you go when I am sure you present no threat to me.” He casually placed a paw on her gut, feeling the trembling, gelatinous guts within struggling to process weeks and weeks’ worth of food.\n\n  “You are in love with me, and you can't move. You can't and you won't harm me now, Sibada.”\n\n   “B-but...DON'T YOU LOVE ME,” she cried out, loud enough that her voice shook the walls.\n\n   “You spent ten years of my life treating me like a slave. The torture, the beatings. Do you really think I am even capable of love now,” he asked, all calm, deadly ice playing in the depths of his eyes.\n\n  “I...I deserve this?” She questioned the air, week paws feeling across her misshapen stomach, touching parts of herself she was unfamiliar with. Thick rolls of fat, enormous ass underneath her, veins standing out like the clogged pipes of the city sewer, deep, leaking gashes of stretchmarks; the rat was a prisoner in her own body. Sibada sobbed, all the fear, hate, and sorrow of her situation returning full force, competing with her newfound attachment to her captor.\n\n   “Please, please, please! I love you,” she whined, toes curling and uncurling, arms flailing, stomach bobbing sluggishly from side to side as she desperately rocked her fattened frame in hopes of sitting up. “PLEASE!”\n\n   “Shut up,” he hissed, and raised his paw, as if to smack her belly. “I enjoyed our time together, but now, you're just about spent. I took the liberty of hiding all the treasure in this cave somewhere nice and safe. Somewhere far away from you and this accursed place.”\n\n    “Varkude! I want to be with you! You don't have to do this! I'm yours,” she shrieked, wide eyes watching his paw, but he did not hurt her.\n\n   “When I leave this cave, I will rush to the city. I will tell the city guard where you are. You can either sit here and wait for them and the punishment the city will have for you, or you can eat that cauldron next to you and finally pop like the bloated whore you are.” The silver fox laughed darkly.\n\n   “Please...” her voice failed her, she huffed, clutching at her chest, and then continued. “There is a third option... you can choose me... was I not... good? You called... me beautiful. You said...I was perfect”\n\n   “I may not be a noble, but I am quite rich, and I have a reputation to maintain. I can't marry a cannibal,” he said, narrowed eyes watching for her surprise, which came only moments later.\n\n   “What?...What do...you mean,” she gasped, her heart almost failing her, the rising tides of despair and the weight of her body squeezing the muscle in a vice.\n\n   “All that delicious, yummy soup you guzzled down? All that meat? It's from the wall! I cooked your dead gang and fed them to you!” He laughed, and this time, Sibada knew he was a demon.\n\n   “And...the cauldron...now?”\n\n   “More of the same. I hope you choose it, over the city's justice.” Varkude stopped laughing, as if a clockwork mannequin broke, and knelt down, grim and serious. While she sobbed, he planted a kiss on her head, and left. She did not call out to him.\n\nVVV\n\n   When the city guard arrived at the remote cave off the main road, hidden among the tall, bladelike rocks, they did not know what to expect. Cautiously, they made their way into the darkened tunnel, and into the spacious chambers that once housed forty-one thieves and an abused orphan. What they saw lying on the floor of the central room horrified them. Sibada, once a beautiful, large rat, was now a bloated ghoul. Her once-gorgeous brown fur was gone, nothing more than a thin fuzz matted with viscera and slimy brown gravy. The rat's gigantic stomach looked ready to brush the ceiling. As naked as her tail, it was a dark blue, red-cracked sphere. Between her legs, red pooled and mixed with a bizarrely thick clear juice. The stench of decay swirled from her sweating form in tangible clouds, overpowering rose perfume. Her breasts would be beautiful pillows, soft yet perky, but the veins pulsing across them looked frighteningly large and prominent. Tears streaked down her cheeks, and faint, gurgling sobs echoed throughout the cave. She could not speak. A thick, muscular arm was stuck in her mouth, half of its length already down her throat. Sibada struggled to breathe. The guards took one look at the pitiful thing, and stepped back.\n\n   “We stay until it's over,” one of them, an older fennec, said. They did not have to wait long. She shoved the disembodied arm down her throat, swallowed repeatedly, her throat bulging around the thick length. She looked over at the cauldron next to her, and with a wretched whimper, threw her head back. Clenching her teeth, shutting her eyes against the agony, she clung to herself, sharp little claws digging into unyielding, already-cooling flesh, and screamed around the paw that still dangled from her lips. With a sound like an overfull wine-skin bursting, she split asunder, and all that she was, now, poured out over the cave floor. Sibada the rat choked in the midst of her last anguished cry, seized up, and fell limp. When the twitching, slimy organs spilled everywhere stilled, and the rodent's reflexive kicks ended, the city guard cut off Sibada's head. They swore to never mention the bandit's end to anyone, and left the cave to the scavengers and demons of the desert.\n\n ", "writing_bbcode_parsed": " It was not difficult to imagine Rakooma a barbarous place. Surrounded by the dunes of the mighty Southern Desert, far from the seat of the Empire, the small city was often characterized by travelers as a bone-dry labyrinth inhabited by merchants, thieves, and the occasional insane cultist. But, there was much about Rakooma its residents prized.

   For one, the law was strict, but merciful. The Empire's strong aversion for violence and the Southern Continent's dislike of imprisonment combined to make Rakooma's courts among the gentlest in the world. Here, there were no beheadings or public floggings, which were so common elsewhere in the desert. The few public punishments were humiliating, but not painful, and the rare death sentence happened out of sight. Here, too, the labor camps and prisons were replaced with community service and heavy fines.

   For two, the gods of the world did not trouble Rakooma with wars. The city, though it was filled with strange beliefs and stranger customs, rarely suffered from conflict. Here, the Empire's Church and the First Temple's priests could walk down the same street and speak as friends. Though people still feared and distrusted the solitary sorcerers and the secretive cults, no one dared raise a paw to them. Even the prostitutes that worshiped the Sacred Self-Devouring Serpent, Ouroboros, so hated everywhere else, ran their brothel-temples without fear.

   For three, the city's merchants were good people. Though Rakooma seemed at times a plutocracy, it was so only because the elders of the place welcomed the words of those who would feed the city in a famine or provide water in a drought free of charge. Bribery was unheard of, and those few who would upset that state of affairs often found both their fellow traders and Rakoom'a Elder Council turning against them.

   Thus, the old city in the desert was, for most, a Utopia in the sands, not a fiery Hell. Of course, a few suffered within its walls, and would describe the place as unjust or even evil, but their opinions were rarely asked by good citizens.

   Sibada was not a good citizen.

   “You must be in a hurry to die, kit. You hate this place so much, or something,” she growled, staring down at the street urchin standing bravely before her.

   He was a fox, a pitiful beggar, a runt of the litter. Ribs, painfully visible under his sparkling silver fur looked broken in several places, and badly healed. He looked no older than ten, but Sibada suspected he was simply stunted by starvation and illness. In spite of all that, the vulpine stood in her way on the crowded main street, and demanded money, something no other creature dared do.

   The beggars of Rakooma were not stupid. A six-foot-eight rat wearing nothing but a blue cloak and sand-white pants, a sword at her hip and several tough-looking males following her was not the sort of generous soul they depended on for survival. Her bare breasts, each as big as her head, suggested she worshiped Ouroboros, but she lacked the cultist's ecstatic smile and submissiveness. She was the picture of wild rodent beauty, untamed by male or female, forged by blade-work. To the practiced eye of an ascetic or hobo, she was a bandit. The silver fox before Sibada was probably just desperate.

   “I hate this place, but I love life,” he answered, looking up at her, past her heavy tits, into her eyes, completely unafraid.

   “You know who I am,” she growled.

   “Yes, I know you have money,” the kit said, and a smile that did not touch his eyes appeared on his unwashed face. “It is honorable to give to the poor.”

   Sibada chuckled. The bandits behind her shuffled back involuntarily. No one wanted blood on their clothes.

   “Do I look like I hold to any faith this dune-feeding town would preach?” She grinned, jiggling her breasts with a paw, her other coming to rest on her scimitar's handle.

   The silver fox met her grin with his own cold smile, as predatory as the rat.

   “This is Rakooma. It is not going to feed the dunes any time soon. And, there are golden minarets of the First Temple just three streets down. Every second week of the month, the priests go on a drinking binge, and anyone can walk into their inner sanctum, and rob them blind. You know, it's the second week of the month...” The fox raised a paw up to Sibada.

   “Well, well. This one knows my faith.” She laughed, her potbelly jiggling before the kit's eyes, her paw slipping off the sword's pommel. “It is indeed honorable to give to the poor... when they have something to offer me.”

   “How valuable,” the fox asked, his open paw shaking slightly from the effort of holding it out.

   “Ten gold.” Sibada nodded to Harl, her faithful tiger, and he produced some coins from a bag around his waist, stepping up to drop them to the beggar.

   “Twenty.” The boy stepped back from the large feline.

   There was a moment, in which the bandits expected their leader to slay the child where he stood. The street was narrow, empty of people, and the shut doors of its houses were blasted by the sands of the wind. A beggar dying here would be a mystery no guard would pursue. Sibada's tail lashed like a whip, and she rumbled like a thundercloud, her eyes going from mirthful to furious in a moment. Then, the moment passed, and her smile returned.

   “Fifteen, and I expect you to work for me from now on.” The large rat leaned down to glare right into the vulpine's green eyes. “You're coming with us for the robbery, and if you do anything funny, I will slice you in half. Now, what do you call yourself, street-trash?”

   The fox's jade eyes lit up, and Sibada saw him transform into a child in an instant, hopping with joy. She wondered where the cold, calculating creature she was dealing with disappeared to, but cast the thought aside. He was only a child, even if he had some strength in him.

   “Thank you for taking me with you! I'm Varkude! I promise I'll be good!” He eagerly grabbed the coins from Harl, and shuffled close to Sibada, his arms open.

   The rodent hissed with disgust, and stepped back.

   “What the fuck do you think you are doing, you little vermin? I said you work for me. I didn't say I was your mother,” she spat down at him.

   He stepped back smartly, and as they walked, followed behind her, like her bandits. Sibada smirked, adjusting her cloak. She was a tough, powerful creature, not some simpering mouse wife, and the kit had to know his place, the rat told herself.

   The temple proved just as deserted as Varkude said. Sibada's boys broke open the ceremonial jars, collected the gold inside them, and walked out of the First Temple before any of the priests stumbled in. It was the perfect job.

   “Good work, Vark.” A fat jackal, Orrib, clapped the tiny fox on the shoulder when they were safely away from the golden minarets and the confused, angry shouts of the drunk priests. “You wanna come with us and celebrate?”

   Sibada wrinkled her nose. Before Varkude could open his mouth, she turned around.

   “He stays right where we found him. He got us the easiest job we've ever pulled. He can do it again,” she said. “And, besides, don't you have a whore to visit? Wouldn’t that be inconvenient with a kit.”

   The jackal was a pervert, a glutton, and a shortsighted fool, but Sibada knew he would never stand against her. And, their haul was quite substantial. Orrib nodded, grumbling, and stomped after her like an obedient pet, leaving Varkude behind, the silver fox staring after them in shocked betrayal. He looked down at his paw. Fifteen gold pieces and three more for the job glittered before his eyes.

   Varkude sighed. He was not Sibada's child or her bandit.

   Years passed.

   The fox obeyed his mistress. But, if he hoped for a generous, kind bandit to take him under her wing and teach him her ways, he chose poorly. Instead of adventure, he was beaten and taunted. Instead of money, Sibada always paid him in food or clothes, treating the necessities as rewards. She saw only a resource to be exploited at as little cost to herself as possible. Soon, he was only her slave, and rather than blossoming into a fox worthy of respect in spite of his occupation, Sibada forged him into a ragged, starving informant, clutching every bit of copper as if it was his life.

   Sibada made her home in a cave nestled among the rocky dunes outside the city, and over ten years, made a fortune off the orphan. Varkude would listen to the city guards, playing the role of a beggar, and come to her cave bearing news of merchants, tax caravans, and other opportunities to make gold without much work. And every time she looked at her vast wealth Sibada heard a faint whisper from her hateful heart. Without the fox, she would have still been a wandering bandit, and her boys would be only a bunch of beggars with knives and swords. She wished dearly that she did not need him, and every time he acted as if he were her son, she became furious. Vanity, envy, and fear mixed in her, and she tried to dull his mind and break his body, waiting for the day he would be useless to her.

   “Shouldn't Varkude be a member of our little band by now? He's been in the city for ages! The guards will catch on someday, and then they'll have him killed, all quiet-like,” said one of her bandits one night after they settled down for drinks.

   “He's only good at one thing. Keeping his eyes and ears on the business of the city. He doesn't know the sword, or the map, or anything else,” she hissed back before returning to her drink.

   “But, we could teach him. Maybe, someday, we could even,” her faithful began.

   “We? You mean ME! I see how you look at me when I talk to him. You're waiting for me to soften up! Well, I won't. And, y-you can all fuck yourselves with your swords.” She hiccupped slamming a fist on the table.

   After that, no one spoke with her about Varkude. It was clear that only the stream of gold he provided kept her from killing him, so poisoned was her mind. Even for a criminal, Sibada was an evil creature. A part of her loved that, wallowing in the dark thoughts and rough pleasures of cruelty.

   But, Varkude only seemed to become a victim. Every day, he would take his lumps and disappear, looking for his fortune. In the city, he would beg enough coppers to begin saving up. Every once in a while, he would even steal some gold during Sibada's own robberies, pocketing a piece or two. In ten years, he had a hoard of his own, a modest pile of coins buried somewhere no one knew. Years of abuse gave him preternatural patience and sharpened his wit instead of breaking him. He found that complimenting the vain rat's looks and being openly in lust with her made her feel better about having him around. The truth, of course, was more complicated.

   Varkude loved Sibada, and unable to find himself a mother, he found a monster he desired but could never have. After a decade of serving her and her band, the silver fox's soul became twisted. His lust found its outlet in sadism, in fantasies of destroying everything the rat was. Looking at her chest, still as full and perky as it ever was, he longed to bite the breast-flesh, to draw blood. Masturbating in his pitiful hovel within the city walls, well away from the bandit cave, Varkude imagined the rat's eyes wet with tears as he took her like a whore. Eventually, even those fantasies were not enough, his hate building up so much the fox desired her death in a slow, horrible way.

   When he came to her one day with news of a caravan of gold from the royal treasury coming to the city in only two days, she laughed and even poured him some wine. The prospect of such a big score made her giddy, and she promised herself she would at last reward the poor boy with a nice, hard fuck. In spite of her cruelty, he was not ugly. A bath and a change of clothes, and Sibada could even imagine him in some palace, serving the local ruler. He was no child, now, and he was obviously not against it! His poems declaring his need for her 'bountiful behind' were especially flattering.

   Things seemed possible that she would have previously only dreamed of, and she felt herself becoming softer. Sibada decided it was the wine, and withdrew the promise, forgetting the fox entirely as she thought of the piles of gold her cave would have now, of the wonderful things she could buy in the city.

   When the time arrived Sibada came out to meet her wealth half-way. She and her trusted band waited on the road, well away from the city and its guards. Though Sibada was impatient to get her paws on the gold, she was no fool. Every bandit wore a thin canvas cloak over their normal clothes, to better blend in with the sand. Each one hid behind a dune or rock facing the road. Sibada knew just how to ambush the caravan, even one as heavily guarded as the king's. She sat behind her rock, drooling at the sight of the camels loaded with supplies and fat sacks of coin. With glee, she noted that the many, many bags were each as big as her breast. The coins within would be a difficult haul to store in her cave. Sibada would have to have the stuff buried, somewhere safe.

   When it looked like the caravan was in their midst, surrounded on all sides by hidden bandits, Sibada yelled, jumping out from behind the worn boulder, and charged the nearest of the royal guards. She heard their weapons were coated in poisons, so wasted no time on threats of negotiation. She took off his head with a single swing, stabbed an official who was trying to climb a camel to escape, and looked around, watching the rest of the carnage.

   Her forty thieves made short work of the guards, the royal fools stumbling around to get cut to ribbons by the better organized, well-watered force. Supplies and bodies were hastily buried, blood covered in sand, and the road cleared of any signs of trouble. The camels were led back up the road a few miles, and then around some rocks, the patient, dumb animals accepting their new masters with the same reluctance that they showed their original owners. Then, when they were far enough away, Sibada gave the order, and the beasts of burden were killed, and covered in sand themselves. Her fortune would be safe in the dunes until the royals stopped looking for their stolen gold.

   A few of the risk-loving bandits did take a bit of coin for themselves, and she did not even stop them. She was giddy, her blood singing in her veins, her every breath tasting as sweet as rose preserve. She won! Not even a scratch on any of her people! Finally, everything was perfect, and she was going to be the richest rat in the whole kingdom. Even the royals in their palace would be envious, someday! She sent her band to the city to enjoy themselves, laughing about their greatest robbery, and hurried to her cave. All that violence and excitement made her too fierce to enjoy the quiet city, she told them. But, the truth was, she was furious with Varkude. Once again, the silver fox gave her a fortune, and this time, she was set for life. She hated herself for even considering being kind to the orphan. In her mind, he was already a powerful bandit, and she, merely a fat, rich nanny for the thieves. Varkude was no longer a tool, the fox had become a threat. He had to be put down!

   When she stormed into her cave, yelling for the pathetic young vulpine, she wondered why he did not come running. He was never late, even for a punishment. Sibada sighed, her anger simmering down quickly. She was, after all, fabulously rich now. Why was she so obsessed with being strong and fierce? What did she have to lose with her band? Why treat the fox so badly? But, as she sat there alone, pondering these things while staring at the cold ash of the previous night's fire, she did not hear Varkude sneaking up on her.

   A single hit from a shovel, and she went down like a sack of flour, flopping over unto her side. Consciousness came back in spurts, her head continuing to swim for what felt like hours. She heard banging, felt herself roughly maneuvered. Once, she feebly fought back, but found her fist striking only thin air. When her delirium passed, her legs and feet were bound to thick iron nails driven into the hard, rocky floor of the cave. She was stuck on her back, staring at the ceiling of her old home. No clothes, no weapon at her side, and only hunger and thirst in her belly. The rat was out for a long time. A simple sleeping mat lay beneath her, and Sibada felt something soft underneath her ass. She looked over, and saw Varkude, smiling like he did when he first met her, a calculated, predatory smirk. He had a fire built, and was busy stirring an enormous cooking pot.

   “Good evening, my lady,” he cried, and she flinched, his eyes flashing with a cold, hateful rage she so often heaped upon him.

   “Ah...hello...Varkude,” she said nervously. “Could you untie me now?”

   “I don't think that would be wise. You only came back here from your greatest triumph to beat me for delivering it to you on a silver platter. And now, I have you at my mercy. Were I to release you now, you would slice me open on the spot.” He chuckled, raising a ladle to his nose, sniffing. “But, don't worry. I will let you go when you no longer present a threat to me. I promise.”

   “You fucking bitch-fox! I'm gonna rip you open and stuff your gut with shit, sew you back up, and throw you down the nearest well to drown and bloat up like the worthless stinking ghoul-feed that you are,” she shrieked, pulling at her restraints, succeeding only in wiggling, her tail lashing this way and that.

   “Funny you should mention stuffing guts. The Capitol has a history of punishing especially horrible criminals by feeding them and then hanging them from the city walls. The last such execution was way before our time, before the Empire came to the South, so you've never had a chance to witness it. I, on the other paw, was fortunate enough to watch this grand spectacle just the other day. It was quite the show. Too bad you missed out!” Varkude laughed as she continued to curse him, barely hearing his words.

   “My dear Sibada, you waste your breath on curses and threats.  Try to relax, we will be spending a lot of time in this cave, you and I. So, let me tell you what happened.” The fox patted her belly, and continued stirring the pot.

VVV

   The fox, dressed in fine clothes, washed, and his whiskers oiled with perfumes came to the city guards, and told them he had overheard a group of toughs talking about the royal caravan and how it would never reach the capital. They carried an awful lot of coin for people so badly dressed, the young silver fox added. The pair of city defenders did not even recognize Varkude without his ever-present rags and mud-caked fur. They thanked him for his information, and promised to spread the word throughout the city.

   The next pair of guards he met got a similar story, and this time Sibada's name was mentioned. A third pair of guards, stationed further down in the city's poorer districts were simply bribed to add rape to the charges hanging over the forty thieves. In a single day, the gang went from a whispered secret among the beggars and a mystery to the guards to the most wanted criminals in the city. The pickpockets of Rakooma shouted about Sibada's disgusting lust for the flesh of the dead. The priests finally had someone to blame for their sacred jars being shattered years ago. Prostitutes and drug dealers of the market swore to everyone they met they had no dealings with Sibada's people, and never would, after what she said about their trades. Even the tax collector suddenly found the identity of her brother's killer that day.

   It did not take long after that for the infamous bandits to be brought before the judges of the city. Grabbed from their many celebrations, they were dragged into the largest law chambers of the capital. The courthouse filled with people from every walk of life, from humble food merchants to the highest ranking officials.  Everyone carried an accusation, rumor, or complaint. Some brought swords and demanded to duel the accused. A few offered their services as executioners, unashamed of their skills.

   The judges, four older meerkats and a groundhog, unused to the chaos around them, consulted the books, and could find no precedent. This was the single worst group of criminals anyone had ever seen. Their crimes would take up an entire book in the legal library to describe, and any punishment they received would be a mercy. So, the five judges had no choice. The Empire's officials would complain, but without Southern justice, the city would be plunged into chaos.

   “Rakooma is a trading city, and our coin is valued highly. But, the highest value belongs to our promises. This group of degenerates stopped the royal palace's delivery of coin into our city. They made it impossible for our banks and our businesses to obey the word of their contracts. They tarnished everyone's name, dishonoring clans and families, guilds and priesthoods alike. Worse than that, these monsters are accused of every other crime we have on record. No defense, no investigation could possibly prove them innocent before the law,” the groundhog spoke, his hoarse voice enough to shut up even the loudest present in the courthouse. “Many years ago, we gave up on the punishments our ancestors invented. We chose kindness over cruelty. But, today, I take on the heavy burden of declaring these forty... animals worthy of the most torturous execution our city has ever given a prisoner.”

   No one raised a paw to silence the city elder.

   “The court passes this sentence, in the knowledge that all of us must carry it out. There will be no privacy. No pretense of honorable suicide. So, fetch your oil, your rice, and your ropes,” he said, and turned to the forty bandits. “Prepare to enter the gates of whatever Hell you believe in.”

   The accused begged for mercy, tried to defend themselves, to sell each other out, but the applause of the mob drowned them out. Each was grabbed up by the crowd, guards doing nothing but helping the furious people, and carried them, struggling, up to the city walls. Vast stores of oil were brought, and even greater stores of rice. Before sundown, the forty were assembled. Each was forced to swallow mouthfuls of oil and rice until they looked so full they would burst, and then flung from the wall, their paws tied together, the rope anchored safely to the walls. Their deaths were horrible, but only a few stuck with Varkude.

   “Please! I only stole! I don't deserve this,” the tiger, Harl, screeched in a high-pitched, whining tone the silver fox had never heard from the right paw of Sibada before. “Please! Don't!”

    He was held down by so many paws that his muscles meant nothing. The big cat might as well have been a kitten. They forced his mouth open, almost breaking his jaw, and Harl mewled in agony, eyes desperately searching for someone, something to spare him. As the first spoon-fulls of oil-drenched rice entered his mouth, the mass sliding down his throat in spite of his efforts to hack it up, Harl saw Varkude. Wide, pleading eyes filled with tears, and his struggles briefly renewed. A guard kicked him in the groin, and the feline whimpered, accepting his fate.

   The crowd fed him more and more. The rice piled within his gut, weighting down on the cat's organs. Sometimes, he sought to bite the paws stuffing him, but each time, his jaws were forced open, and more slimy, bland rice went down his gullet. Soon, his once-slim stomach resembled a sack filled to its limit, his guts painfully shifting with each new mouthful. Bruises formed, grew, encompassing his whole middle, whatever was visible beneath the thinning fur gaining the color of dried wine, blood pooling just beneath the skin. The purple soon turned dark blue in splotches, and Harl shivered each time they shoveled rice out of the cauldron, anticipating the agonizing stretching of his skin. Finally, the crowd was satisfied with the tiger's last meal. A rope was hastily wrapped around his arms, and he was lifted up by the mob.

   “No No No NOOO! PLEASE,” he shrieked, flailing as his overstuffed body was heaved over the wall.

   He fell, screaming and clawing at the air. The rope ended too soon. Jerked back up for a moment, and Harl managed a pitiful squeal. Varkude looked down on the weakly kicking tiger, smiling cruelly. The heavy rice in his stomach pulled the cat down even more than his well-toned muscles. His dangling maleness seemed to swell for a moment, as if he would enjoy the end, but ultimately, there was not enough time even for that mercy. Gasping, bulging eyes rolling in his head, Harl felt his hide part. He instinctively kicked, as if to get away from the inevitable. His belly button ripped, the navel stretching open wider and wider. The tiger drooled onto his chest and enormous stomach, limbs slowing their struggles, muscles exhausted from holding on. All too soon for the crowd, the bandit fell to twitching, and went limp, his muscles giving up the fight. Harl's swollen belly tore asunder, spilling its contents out unto the rocks below.

   The next to catch Varkude's attention was the jackal Orrib. He was no one special, of course. Merely another in a long line of robbers to be filled and thrown over the wall to dance their last. But, the bored crowd saw how his potbelly jiggled a little, saw his wider hips and his soft feminine body. Worse, they saw his shameful secret. Orrib, Varkude already knew, was a creature of lust, who hired the prostitute cultists of Ouroboros often and even partook of their sacred drugs. His cock, grown hard at the thought of being force-fed by the angry mob, betrayed him as a self-destructive lover of pain. Jeering, many paws tugged at his thick member, played with his fat balls, patted his gut as it slowly grew. The attention was too much.  Orrib eagerly gulped down the slick paw-fulls of rice, licking the swarms of paws affectionately as they came and went. Distracted by his arousal, the people simply kept feeding Orrib. He, for his part, did not resist, accepting the tasteless meal with pleasured moans. The silver fox watched with interest as the jackal's once chubby belly rounded and bulged farther and farther from hips that thrust into the air, his dick poking out from under it, twitching and drooling, close to climax. 

                  At first he looked merely pregnant, his belly smooth and round, the once deep hollow of his bellybutton stretched into a puckered hollow at its peak.  Devoid of fur the twisted nub throbbed, on the verge of popping outwards completely.  One guard pushed through the crowd with a large ladle bearing at least three pounds of tasteless rice slop.  It dripped with oil, and without hesitating the guard shoved it into the jackal's gasping muzzle.  Orrib flopped and twitched, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he struggled to swallow the tremendous amount of grain.  With an agonized squelch the muscles of his throat finally sent the lump into his packed guts, and with a meaty pop the Jackal's belly button launched outwards, thick and rounded like a nipple. Varkude could have sworn he heard flesh squeezed and deformed by sheer weight as he watched Orrib's gut tighten, the stuffing showing through the thinning hide.  It reminded the fascinated fox of an egg sac, or a leather bag heavy with coin.  It hung low between his wide spread legs, lashed with widening red stripes, twisted and contorted by the mass of rice continuing to expand within him. Orrib's belly button was now a disgusting, bleeding whorl on his stomach, a red mountain pulsing as if preparing to become a volcano, each panting, lustful breath threatening to end him before his time.

   Please...please...just...make me cum...I don't wanna die...please!” he whined, and a prostitute in the mob laid down before his throbbing length, now buried and pushed low between his thighs by the jackal's groaning tortured stomach, and pushing his aching gut upwards with her head the eager fennec wrapped her mouth around his cock-head, sucking the bandit off in one last humiliation.  A few spectators stepped forward with a length of rope, and taking either side hoisted the tortured bag of organs upwards, giving the young prostitute better access.  Orrib gagged as his throbbing belly was pushed upwards into his lungs.  The rope slung below his darkening pink and red mottled hide caused the jackal's belly to jut far before him now, drooping downwards towards its peak to rest on the head of the fennec whose lips engulfed his throbbing length.

   A cultist of Ouroboros, she went into her task with enthusiasm. Perhaps, he had failed to pay her enough for her services before, thought Varkude. The others, for all their blood-lust, were taken aback, and let the busty fennec go about her business. In moments, the jackal went into a spasm, panting and gasping, clutching at his stomach as climax robbed him of control. Cumming into her mouth, he awkwardly humped into her, his belly flopping upwards for a brief moment with a heavy slosh, convulsing and groaning wetly, and something within him tore. In an instant, his lumpy gut was slashed by gashes of deep purple that dripped with red, his hide unable to handle the pressure. The fennec wiggled out from under him and stepped back, giggling. Hot blood poured over his squirting erection, over his ball sack, down his legs, instantly washing away his cum. He squealed, eyes tearing up, and was thrown over the wall before he could realize his reprieve was over.

   The male jackal's body was not as strong as Harl's, and his gut already carried far more than any creature before him. His plump body hit the end of the rope, his shoulders straining, paws nearly breaking in the midst of a pitiful cry for help. Orrib's words turned into desperate yelping and whimpering. His cum-leaking body shivered, and the skin holding back all his innards broke at last. Oil and rice-crusted entrails tumbled from the jackal's body, blood and meat and grain splashing down below. Emptied and broken, the husk of the jackal spurted blood like a broken cask, and his blinking, shocked eyes froze in a perfect expression of terrified lust.

   Varkude could not resist after that show. Even knowing that the bandits could reveal him, the silver fox grabbed a paw-full of rice from a nearby cauldron, and headed for a pitifully whimpering hyena. The bandit recognized him the moment the vulpine's paw thrust into his maw, but he was already too stuffed to do much more than try to chew before the next mouthful arrived and whine up at Varkude. The fox knelt alongside several other 'concerned citizens' running their paws over the swollen male's gut. Trembling, he put a claw on the stretched hide. It felt taut, turgid, almost like a pregnancy, the hyena's organs fighting for space while overfilled, making strange, liquid noises that sent Varkude into new shivers of pleasure. Something about the surrender, humiliation, and lust of the bandit before him gave the fox more than any fantasy he ever came up with. Doing his best to cover his erection, Varkude stood up, and retreated back into the crowd to lean against one of the emptied rice cauldrons and watch what happened next.

   He longed to paw the hyena and shower him in insults, or to at least keep feeding him as the crowd did, but Varkude knew himself. Once he was aroused, the silver fox would not stop, not even if it meant discovery. No, thought the fox. He would wait until he could be alone with someone special...

   The hyena's stomach soon wobbled with his weak struggles, colored like a sickly berry, red and pink streaks marring its spherical surface. To Varkude's surprise, there was no bruising. The hyena simply stretched, and then kept stretching. Perhaps, it was the alcohol he smelled on the bandit's breath, or the way the hyena's skin strained. Though his sides looked ready to rip, the unfortunate male was hard as a rock between his legs thanks to the constant attentions of many paws caressing and slapping his belly and thighs. Satisfied with his stuffed state, or simply bored of him, the crowd shoved him off the wall as soon as he went limp and his breathing grew shallow.

   Arms wrenched back, the hyena had time to hang in place, mouth opening and closing in agony. Varkude smiled as he saw the tell-tale squirming of red lines around the bandit's navel. The hyena spread his legs, raising them up around his gut as if giving birth, and with a long, drawn out howl, split down the middle a heartbeat later.

   They chose a mink next. He wiggled out of the crowd's gasp, snapping his jaws and spitting curses, until some clever soul shoved his snout down into a cauldron. Suffocating on rice, the mink was forced to eat, until at last he quieted down, and chewed his last meal while draped over the massive metal pot. Varkude knew him as Knives. The sadistic weasel was known for torturing anyone who so much as raised their paw to him in a robbery, and now, he was dooming himself, eating more and more rice, until his stomach looked almost as big as the cauldron he desperately clung to. When they grabbed him, Knives screeched that he could keep eating. Then, as the edge of the wall approached him, the mink sobbed that he did not want to go to the Hell of Hot Stakes.

   Varkude snorted with barely contained laughter. Of all the crimes to feel guilty about, the mink thought he was destined to damnation for taking it up the ass? The Northern Church Knives grew up with certainly had unusual ideas!

   They threw the mink over the wall. He fell, as predictably as others, a sack of rice with legs, arms tied together. He shrieked and sobbed and gibbered in a panic the moment he recovered from the drop. At first, Varkude thought the weasel was about to burst asunder, but with each new scream, it became clear the mink was too stretchy for that. Though his gut could easily crush the silver fox beneath its size and weight, it’s practically fur-less expanse did not show many signs of strain. There were some veins, and the beginnings of stretch marks, but Varkude saw no reddening, no bruises. It was as if the mink was bottomless!

   “Cut the rope,” a rabbit next to Varkude yelled.

   “YEAH! CUT THE ROPE, CUT THE ROPE!” The cry was taken up by the crowd, and one of the guards produced a dagger from his belt.

   “No! Please! Save me! Pull me up! Pleee-eease!” The mink sounded just like one of his own victims, now, legs scrabbling weakly against the wall behind him, trying to find purchase.

   There was a dry snap, the twists of hemp holding Knives up failing. Varkude watched, mesmerized, as the mink tumbled downwards, shrieking all the way.

   SPLABOOSH!

   When the mink hit the rocks below, there was an explosion. He was, after all, too stuffed. His skin had just been strong enough to endure it until the bandit's middle met a sharp outcropping. He tore open spectacularly, blood and half-digested food flying up to splatter the wall. The crowd booed and cheered in equal measure.

   By the time the last bandit was ready to be fed and thrown off the wall, the silver fox saw all he wished to see. Some, like the tiger, pleaded. Others, like the mink, fought. A few, in the grip of some insanity, pawed themselves and encouraged the crowd. One, a slim antelope, was so engrossed in the pleasure and pain of his punishment, that he came, and burst open before the crowd could throw him off the wall. The citizen executioners, covered in the bandit's last release and many pounds of stinking rice, rushed away, thoroughly sickened, though others soon took their place.

   A fox, red and wiry, went to his fate crying in mourning as the final roped bandit. He grabbed the rice from the oily pot himself, and though the crowd still held him down, their rage was mostly appeased.  They were content to watch him stuff himself as he knelt before them, his stomach rounding into a heavy orb before their eyes. His name was Sul, and Varkude despised him. The other fox was lucky enough to join Sibada as an adult. His fur was always well-groomed, and his eyes always shone with glee. Now, though, Varkude was happy to see the fox defeated. He was no longer smiling. Instead, bloody drool from a guard's punch ran down his chin and over his white chest. He swallowed each mouthful with a grimace of pain. The silver vulpine guessed the bandit had a broken tooth. But, soon he looked as if he carried a litter of six, his swollen belly crisscrossed by stretchmarks and thick, pulsing veins. But, he was pregnant with death, not life, his gut barely churning. The fennec prostitute from before offered to give him a good send-off, and he nodded, weakly murmuring something Varkude could not hear.

   The fennec laughed, and briskly pumped her paw on the fox's member, bringing him to hardness, and then allowing the whimpering, exhausted vulpine to cum. She cooed to him, rubbing oil over his bulging gut, her paw tips tracing the deep red and purple gashes that shined through his thinned fur. It was a cruel mercy, because the massage sensual and soothing to the unfortunate fox, while at the same time, jostling his sore, aching belly. He relieved himself in waves, cum spurting over his underbelly, coating the thicker downy, white fur. The white flood pooled in his shallow navel, ran down his oiled gut, only for the fennec to rub it into him. Sul cried out, again and again, enjoying a climax no one, including Orrib, could ever imagine. Just as Varkude was beginning to wonder if the red fox would be spared for his immense virility, the pleasure-stricken vulpine's production slowed, and sputtered out. Finally, his magnificent cock stopped its flow of seed, his balls emptied. He smiled sadly to the people around him, waved, and struggled to his feet, cradling his girth.

   “Thank you. I deserve this for my many years with Sibada. She was not a kind rat, and I hope someday, she will know the punishment I am about to receive. Please, I beg you, pray for me in your temples and churches.” A tear ran down the fox's cheek, and he jumped off.

   The force of the stop at the end of the rope burst him instantly, Sul having no time to even gasp before his heart emptied out unto the rocks down below. The corpse swung in a slow circle, sweat, oil, and cum running down his feet. Varkude wondered at Sul's guilt. Had the fox truly wanted to atone for his crimes so badly? The idea of giving into punishment like that never even occurred to the silver fox. It struck him as supremely stupid, and he shook his head as he left with the sadly murmuring crowd. He heard the words of one of the judges, a meerkat lady well into her sixth decade of life:

   “When Sibada is caught, she will suffer a million times worse than this.”

VVV

   Halfway through his tale, Sibada grew quiet. She ran out of threats and insults to hurl, and the deaths of her boys, her entire band, weighted upon her. She found tears welling up in her eyes, and no matter how much she wished, they would not disappear.

   “You...sold us out,” she asked, struggling not to sob. “How do you plan to get the gold?” “

   What makes you think I need the gold from your latest robbery? I have all the fortune I need right here. Besides, I think the city guard recovered all the coin from that caravan already. One of your boys was so scared that he blabbed about its location. The mob didn't even wait for him to swallow; just kept shoving in rice until he split. You should have seen him, his gut was a magnificent crimson by the time it ruptured, you could even see his twisted organs through the paper thin flesh."

   Varkude trailed off after that, a thin lipped smile upon his muzzle as he relived the moment. “B-but, I was gonna...,” the rat trailed off, remembering the countless times she deprived the silver fox of his fair share. The silver furred fox turned his head quickly, locking eyes with the rat and cutting her off. “I wanted to fuck you pretty badly for years, you know,” he said.

   “Then, please, stop this madness! We have enough treasure here! If it's not split 42 ways, it's more than enough! Things can be different! I promise!” Sibada lied through her teeth.

   Varkude laughed, but his eyes remained cold and lifeless. “How stupid do you think I am? I know what you really want to do to me right now.” Varkude shook his head. “No, I won't trust you until you've proven yourself safe.”

   “You won't ever trust me,” she said. “I will always be a poisoned dagger at your back.”

   “Sigh. Again with your threats. No matter, you'll be singing a different tune soon enough. I will come here every day, and show you all the care you never showed me.” Varkude ran a paw over her left breast as he spoke, squeezing the nipple roughly.

   “Watching all those executions gave me the perfect idea for how I can help you become the perfect specimen of docile, trustworthy femininity. First, what you need is some meat on your bones.”

   With that, he grabbed the ladle, and brought it to Sibada's lips. The rat grimaced, turning her head, but the smell of meat, broth and spices, combined with the bandit leader's hunger, eventually won. She drank the broth, chewed up the tiny bits of meat, and licked her lips, clenching her eyes shut to avoid his lustful, hate-filled gaze.

   “You will eat, or I will slit your throat. Every day, you will finish this cauldron. Down to the last drop,” he snarled, banging his ladle against the blackened metal.

   “But, it's bigger than I am...,” she whispered, horrified.

  The silver fox before her was mad. She could not eat even a half of the cauldron, let alone the whole.

   “Eat!”

    He filled the ladle up again, and Sibada opened her mouth, shocked at her obedience. “It's starting to sink in, isn’t it? No one knows about this place. Without me, you will die here, tied to the ground. With me, you will blossom into what you should be.”

   He spooned another mouthful into her, and then another. “Fuck you,” she snarled, nevertheless accepting more and more of the soup, drenching her breasts with the stuff, gulping as quickly as possible.

   “I forgive you, Sibada. Please, have some more,” he nodded, encouraging the rat. Once her hunger was sated, the female rat tried to turn her face away from the ladle. A knife at her throat stopped all rebellion, and she gulped the stuff down. In an hour, Sibada felt fuller than ever. Her belly stuck out from her, a round melon that almost brushed her tits. It gurgled, visibly rising and falling with her labored breathing. Each swallow was accompanied by gagging and helpless, furious sobs. Protests vanished, and soon thereafter, all resistance. She mechanically opened her mouth to each new ladle, crying as Varkude gave her more and more delicious, painfully filling soup. It tasted heavenly, a mixture of bitter and sweet spices, some exotic meats, and just a hint of milk, but she could feel her innards on the verge of rupture. Her poor stomach and guts stretched so much Sibada feared each stabbing sensation heralded her doom.

    The rat, now merely a prisoner of the mad fox, looked as if she were pregnant, full-term with twins. Her full, round tits rested on, and were spread apart by, a tightly packed belly. She could even see a faint line bisecting her now, running from between her breasts up to her delicate belly button. She was so full it was hard to think, but it registered that this meal had destroyed her beautiful hide already. Stretchmarks covered every surface of her massive globe, and her light brown fur, where it wasn't splattered with broth, looked to be sparse around her middle.

  “Aww, I ran out of soup,” Varkude sighed, looking for all the world like a sad clown in a play, only his glinting eyes and full erection betraying how he really felt.

  “Oh...thank gods,” Sibada gasped.

   “Now, it's time to help you digest your first meal, my lady.” The silver fox cast aside the cauldron, and scooted closer to the rat.

  “You...think...raping me,” she began, indignant, and found a paw on her mouth. “Please, my lady. While I will admit I am excited by your...growth, especially after having witnessed the lewd events in the city, you will not be merely a fuck-toy for me. You will accept me of your own volition soon enough. After all, how many times have you promised me a night with you?”

  He giggled, pawing himself and running a paw through the pricked-up fur of her belly. Sibada shivered, in spite of herself. The new sensation of her stretched, torn skin being slowly rubbed by someone's paw sent shivers through her body. She struggled to think about her band, about her gold, but the food made her drowsy and weak. She whimpered, and humped upwards into his touch, causing her drum tight stomach to slosh and shift. Varkude laughed, and his other paw joined in, giving the rat a gentle belly massage. Then, things became horrible. Just as she was beginning to fall asleep, the horrors of the day exhausting what reserves she had left and the soft petting of her gut, the silver fox fell upon her with his whole weight. She squealed, eyes bulging, body shuddering as her stomach spread out under his paws, the press of the full-grown male on her innards almost enough to break her open there and then. She groaned, burping, and retched, but precious little soup left her.

  “Please! Stop! I'm gonna burst,” she screamed the second her throat was clear, fighting back waves of nausea as Varkude sloshed her this way and that, his paws dragging across her gut in circles, pushing down roughly.

  “No, you won't, my lady. You are going to grow more and more. I'm just getting you ready for tomorrow,” he calmly said. Her bonds held well. Sibada whined and begged, but he would not let up. To her surprise, however, her innards seemed to feel much, much better in only a little while. Where the fullness was an unpleasant weight in her, it was now more manageable. When Varkude was satisfied with her digestion, he stood up, erection dripping, and went to a corner of the cave the rat could not see. Soon, she heard wet smacking sounds, and in only a little while, the quiet gasps of release. Laying alone in the cave, warmed by the fire, too full to plot her escape, much less struggle, she could not help but imagine the young fox's length in her. Sibada shook her head, trying to clear the mist from her brain.

    When the silver fox returned, his dick was flaccid, and instead of more groping and pressing, he brought a washcloth and a bucket of water. Despite her weak protests, she welcomed the cleaning. Sticky soup mixture clung to her fur, and she reeked of days in the desert.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, wondering if the meal burbling away in her guts was drugged.

  “I told you I would care for you.” He smiled down at her, and fished a rose-scented oil from behind the empty cauldron. “This will help you with the stretchmarks.” Sibada found herself accepting Varkude's service. If the fox planned to stuff her every day, paw himself furiously in some cold, dark corner out of her sight, and come back to wash her, she had a chance. No guards, no furious city-dwellers; the rat could rest, plan her moves, and wait for the heat to die down. Soon, she would be free, and the pathetic fool who thought he could tame her would be dead. She went to sleep while Varkude smeared thick oil over her gut, imagining her return to the city with another name and a fortune, perhaps a bit plumper, but no less powerful for it.

   The next day, she awoke well past noon. Even after an entire night of digestion, she still felt larger, too bloated to do much. Her girth had shrunk slightly in the night, and her skin no longer felt on fire with tightness, but still she looked slightly overdue with child. Varkude helped her relieve herself, threw out the waste, and sat down with the cauldron on the fire again. He stirred the same delicious soup, as much as before, the stuff bubbling with fat chunks of meat, even larger than before.

  Sibada gagged, but he put a paw on her stomach. With a gentleness that still surprised her the fox's paw tips rubbed soothing circles around her shallow innie, his palm pressing lightly into the lower swell of her ripe round abdomen. “My lady, do you need something to settle your stomach for today's meal?”

   “Pleeease,” the rat whined, eyeing the metal pot that looked ready to overflow.

   “Of course,” he smiled, and slowly poured wine into her eager mouth. With a hiccup, Sibada felt her insides relax, even at the prospect of the tremendous amount of soup. This time, she simply relaxed, and allowed the hours to roll by.

   Once, she made the mistake of looking at her stomach. Sibada's body was adapting quickly to the feeding, but not quickly enough. Her breasts were already plumper, and almost a claw-width of fat had settled over her whole body. Her belly now rivaled the size of the cauldron itself, a smooth hill, its apex an outie belly button. Sibada let out a tiny gasp. Only that morning her shallow navel still felt as if it were deep enough to take more abuse, but now it stood thick and proud, silhouetted on the horizon of her tortured gut. Veins and stretchmarks were more pronounced, and even with the pampering her stomach received from Varkude, she knew nothing would erase the widening scars of her meals.

   “You are more beautiful than ever,” she heard the whisper from her captor. “More beautiful, and much less angry.”

   “You...drugged the food,” she panted, stumbling over the words. The sun had already set, and the cauldron was almost empty. The rat did not remember anything about the feeding, besides the last few delicious bites. There was only one explanation.

   “No, no. You just never felt full enough before. This is what satisfaction REALLY feels like.” He laughed, and stuffed more meat into Sibada's mouth.

  “You killed my friends.” She gulped down the food, but kept talking. “They were only a necessity of your trade. Without them, you yourself said this cave's loot would make you very rich.” Varkude nodded towards the piles of gold just a little distance away.

 “You still have me bound here, helpless.” Sibada sighed, realizing to her surprise that the fox knew her so well; even at their best, her boys were just tools for her greed and lust.

  “And, you are enjoying yourself. You didn't struggle the whole day. You kept eating bite after bite, curling your toes and swishing that lovely tail. I know you are thinking of escaping and killing me.” The silver fox's smile turned mischievous. “But... you won't.”

  “Varkude... please... let me go! I learned my lesson,” she whimpered up at him, sincerity creeping into what she thought was merely a lie to appeal to the crazy fox.

  “This isn't a lesson,“ the vulpine's amber eyes turned cold again. “But, that new tone of voice is very welcome. Another couple of feedings, and I might let you out of your restraints, my big, beautiful rat.”

   Sibada allowed Varkude to scoop the last bits from the cauldron right into her maw. One last swallow, and she felt the same agonizing fullness as before. But, somehow, the bizarre massage Varkude subjected her to felt less painful. She welcomed the rough kneading of her stomach, the pressure on her insides, even the odd feeling of food sloshing about in her. The former bandit leader knew her body was now larger than ever. She could feel her naked tail twitching in between her bigger ass cheeks, could feel herself weighed down by her own body in a thousand new ways. Even her chest felt different; her breasts felt softer, more sensitive. For the first time, she felt unquestionably lady-like, a fantasy popping into the overfed rodent's head: a hedonistic noble pampered by her servant. For a few blissful moments, Sibada's inhibitions disappeared. Her pussy wet, her panting breath more urgent, she lapped up the compliments and encouragements Varkude heaped upon her, just putty in the mad fox's paws. She opened her mouth to beg for the fox's maleness in her, but resisted the urge, biting back her desire. Instead, she focused her mind on the thick, root-like veins covering her stomach, on the tingling of her navel as each shallow breath caused it to push outwards, on the mind-boggling size she had become in only two days.

   She failed. Her eyes strayed to the fox's maleness, eagerly anticipating every bump of Varkude's length against her enormous sphere of a belly. Varkude noticed her attention, and gently pressed his cock up against her side. His length didn’t make a dent in her rock hard orb, but as he slid it slowly back and forth along the side of her gut it brushed over the bruised purple blotches that marked burst blood vessels, and the roughly textured, ever widening gashes that striped her hide. Sibada instantly stilled, paralyzed by the strong heartbeats she felt reverberate through her stretched-out hide.

  “Oh, gods,” she shrieked, struggling against the metal keeping her trapped. Even as she writhed, snarling, she wondered what she would do if she did escape now. Would she kill him? Or, as her desperate need sang to her, ride the fox until they both fell exhausted into sleep? She hated him. But, he was right! She needed to feel full, to feel so relaxed! She needed to be... noble. Sibada imagined herself in the cave, better appointed thanks to her fortune, lying upon cushions, a fattened queen, cared for by the lustful, twisted fox who she allowed to make love to her. The rat stilled, pacified by the fantasy playing in her head and the massage-improved action of her guts.

   Varkude withdrew, looking more than a little aroused, his dick bobbing at the very edge of blissful release. He grinned down at the dull-witted rat, her mind clearly in some other realm.

   “Whatever you are imagining now, I can provide for you,” he whispered, and walked away before she could say anything. Sibada tried to get his attention several times, but no matter how much she begged, he was either away from the cave or stubbornly refusing to heed her words. Rather than go hoarse, the rat chose to nap. Her dreams were full of food and wine and sex. The feeding continued after she awoke. More wine entered her, and more food helped her swell up even more. Now, her limit seemed to have doubled. Sibada could now fit her old body in her newly expanded gut, and she barely felt any pain when Varkude rubbed it for her. With pride, she lazily surveyed the pair of tits jiggling with each breath she took, grown several sizes overnight. Her nipples felt incredible, and when a stray paw brushed across her areola, the rat went into a seizure of need.

  “PLEASE! JUST FUCK ME ALREADY,” she screeched.

   Varkude nodded. It was going according to plan. The rose-scented oil he put on her after every feeding was far more than a bit of medicine. It was laced with alchemical mixtures he was assured would have any female humping in bliss. In his labyrinthine mind, the fox gloated that he hadn't lied about the food, and watched in glee as Sibada begged for his cock. Varkude knelt before the front of the rat’s oblong girth. It rested heavily on the stone floor between her legs, and jutted past here toes. Wrapping his paws around as much of her warm, vibrating solid gut as he could, the fox pressed into its mass, pushing it upwards into the air to gently position himself up against her entrance, rubbing his length over her drooling pussy lips. Her belly smothered his face, and Varkude nuzzled and licked the barren, battered surface as he thrust into her. Sibada was almost finished. Already, he could glimpse tell-tale redness and bruising under her skin, the hide pulling apart and deforming from the impossible gorging she was forced to endure, day after day.

   “My lady, prepare yourself.” He hoped she would survive another week. She spread her thighs as much as she could while bound, answering his teasing rubbing with flustered squeaks and twitches. With each powerful stroke she gushed. No other male pleased her so, and the shock of reaching climax so quickly and unexpectedly had the rat gasping in confusion. Brief pangs of pain returned to her stomach as it was forced to bob and wobble in the fox’s strong grip, but she ignored them, desperately wiggling, helping the fox hump deeper into her. Sibada, for all that her new size and weight made things difficult, eagerly shoved herself unto Varkude. The fox, for his part, anticipated her early climax, and raised her to new heights of pleasure. Giggling in between pleasured gasps, he licked whatever he could reach of her gut. Mysterious drugs fizzling on his tongue, mixing with the rat's sweat, Varkude redoubled his efforts.

   It was hours later that the two fell from each other, their bodies running out of strength at last. Varkude finally passed out atop her aching belly, his arms and legs spread wide to hug as much of her as he could. His slowly softening cock pressed into her thinned flesh and twitched every few seconds, pouring seed in great, white globs down the front of her gut and over her grapefruit sized, red and purple tinted navel. Sibada had no choice but to lay on her back, cursing her bonds, leaking liberally and squirting whenever a stray late-coming climax hit her. This strange after-sex cuddle was a welcome change, and in her blissed-out stupor, the rat felt only love for the master of agonizing pleasure who had uncovered her fantasies.

   Gone was the child who would pull her down into motherhood. Gone, too, was the strong-willed, charismatic rival. Even Varkude the perverted kidnapper was wiped from the rat's memory. Only Varkude, the creator of her joy, the liberator of her appetites, remained. She dreamed of him in her, humping endlessly, cumming, growing her stomach with food and child until she could no longer even see her navel over the mountain of flesh she had become.

   Waking up with a satisfied yawn, she blinked. Her body was sore, but pleasure still lingered in every corner of her mind. She readily gave into it, calling for Varkude to come to her aid. The fox shot up, and the two spent a few blissful minutes in heaven. Flopping over her belly, exhausted, Varkude barely had time to catch his breath before the rat begged for food. He laughed, and got the cauldron started. Hours later, and another love-making in, the rat surprised him.

   “Please, can I have more,” Sibada asked.

   “Of course, my lady. But, are you sure you can handle it?” His eyes were cold, but his tone of voice was that of a concerned lover. “Of course...*burp*... I can.” The rat giggled at herself.

   Varkude looked over her form. Veins formed ugly branches of blue over her belly, the skin barely restraining Sibada's innards, pulled so thin that he thought he could glimpse the rat's stuffed entrails pressing up against it. Repeated overdoses of aphrodisiac had her nipples permanently engorged, her tits a pair of enormous melons that would make a milking cow green with envy. Her pussy looked fat, a puffy flower crowned with a clitoris bigger than the biggest cherry, leaking its juices all over the sullied sleeping mat beneath her. Whatever miracle of alchemy and slow feeding had allowed her to survive so far was growing weaker. Soon, she would end as other bandits. Worse, perhaps, for all the attention he gave her. But, for now, he could enjoy himself.

   “Very well. But, I will have to put more oil on you... and, of course, fuck you more. Throughout the night. This soup takes a while, you know.” Varkude patted her stomach, producing a deep echoing thwump, and Sibada whimpered, eyes tearing up. The wine was not dulling her pain any more. Even after three massive jugs had been emptied into her cavernous guts the rat still shuddered and groaned with the sharp piercing ache that shot through every inch of her massive belly.

   Varkude had very little time, now. He cooked more soup, staying up throughout the night, periodically humping her, or tending to her belly when it revolted with the contractions of her crushed abdominal muscles. He told her what he saw, and more. Sibada's belly button, long since lost from her view, now hung low on her bloated gut. The once thick, rounded nub had flattened out, becoming the center of a crimson flower. The line up her belly and down to her chest was similarly inflamed, and Varkude compared it to an exotic vine, from which that gorgeous blood blossom grew.

   “My lady, you have almost completed your transformation,” he said, and ran a paw over her cheek. She leaned into it, eyes unfocused, her breathing a slow, labored gurgle.

   “Please...more...” she begged. Sibada did not know how much time passed after that. Time after time, thick, warm soup slid down her throat, each mouth-watering bit of mysterious meat adding to her size. Oil was spread over her, literal bucket-loads of the strong-smelling perfumed goop running down her body. She was fattening, her body struggling to repair damage, to accept the food, but it was simply too much. The rat recalled throwing up, once. There was blood in her spit, but Varkude cleaned her off as always, and assured her she was beautiful. Nearly brain-dead, she told him she loved him. Asked about children. The silver fox laughed, a cruel, metallic sound that hurt her ears. But, he kept feeding her, kept making love to her, kept telling her she was becoming something amazing.

   “Tomorrow, you will be freed. You have become the perfect female,” he told her, and she nodded, eager for the day that her wonderful fox would make her a queen.

   And when she woke up, she was free. A full, steaming cauldron in front of her, and a mess of regretful memories surfacing in her mind. She felt sick, in mind and soul. She shifted, her bloated middle pinning her to the floor, her spine cracking painfully on the cold floor of the cave. But, her paws were free. She could reach the cauldron, now. She tried to drag herself away. A horrific slosh and a searing pain, like the rat's insides were being sliced open, kept her where she was.

   Varkude appeared from behind the angry red and purple marbled mountain that pinned her to the ground, his meager belongings stowed away within his traveling pack. Noticing the dazed, weakened rat's loving gaze he stopped, flashing a predatory grin. "Awake at last I see, well you’re just in time to say goodbye."

   “B-but...why are ...gasp...you leaving ....I love you...” She struggled to remember how it happened, but somehow, the creature she should have hated now filled her only with desire and desperate, animal need to please.

   “I told you, I would let you go when I am sure you present no threat to me.” He casually placed a paw on her gut, feeling the trembling, gelatinous guts within struggling to process weeks and weeks’ worth of food.

  “You are in love with me, and you can't move. You can't and you won't harm me now, Sibada.”

   “B-but...DON'T YOU LOVE ME,” she cried out, loud enough that her voice shook the walls.

   “You spent ten years of my life treating me like a slave. The torture, the beatings. Do you really think I am even capable of love now,” he asked, all calm, deadly ice playing in the depths of his eyes.

  “I...I deserve this?” She questioned the air, week paws feeling across her misshapen stomach, touching parts of herself she was unfamiliar with. Thick rolls of fat, enormous ass underneath her, veins standing out like the clogged pipes of the city sewer, deep, leaking gashes of stretchmarks; the rat was a prisoner in her own body. Sibada sobbed, all the fear, hate, and sorrow of her situation returning full force, competing with her newfound attachment to her captor.

   “Please, please, please! I love you,” she whined, toes curling and uncurling, arms flailing, stomach bobbing sluggishly from side to side as she desperately rocked her fattened frame in hopes of sitting up. “PLEASE!”

   “Shut up,” he hissed, and raised his paw, as if to smack her belly. “I enjoyed our time together, but now, you're just about spent. I took the liberty of hiding all the treasure in this cave somewhere nice and safe. Somewhere far away from you and this accursed place.”

    “Varkude! I want to be with you! You don't have to do this! I'm yours,” she shrieked, wide eyes watching his paw, but he did not hurt her.

   “When I leave this cave, I will rush to the city. I will tell the city guard where you are. You can either sit here and wait for them and the punishment the city will have for you, or you can eat that cauldron next to you and finally pop like the bloated whore you are.” The silver fox laughed darkly.

   “Please...” her voice failed her, she huffed, clutching at her chest, and then continued. “There is a third option... you can choose me... was I not... good? You called... me beautiful. You said...I was perfect”

   “I may not be a noble, but I am quite rich, and I have a reputation to maintain. I can't marry a cannibal,” he said, narrowed eyes watching for her surprise, which came only moments later.

   “What?...What do...you mean,” she gasped, her heart almost failing her, the rising tides of despair and the weight of her body squeezing the muscle in a vice.

   “All that delicious, yummy soup you guzzled down? All that meat? It's from the wall! I cooked your dead gang and fed them to you!” He laughed, and this time, Sibada knew he was a demon.

   “And...the cauldron...now?”

   “More of the same. I hope you choose it, over the city's justice.” Varkude stopped laughing, as if a clockwork mannequin broke, and knelt down, grim and serious. While she sobbed, he planted a kiss on her head, and left. She did not call out to him.

VVV

   When the city guard arrived at the remote cave off the main road, hidden among the tall, bladelike rocks, they did not know what to expect. Cautiously, they made their way into the darkened tunnel, and into the spacious chambers that once housed forty-one thieves and an abused orphan. What they saw lying on the floor of the central room horrified them. Sibada, once a beautiful, large rat, was now a bloated ghoul. Her once-gorgeous brown fur was gone, nothing more than a thin fuzz matted with viscera and slimy brown gravy. The rat's gigantic stomach looked ready to brush the ceiling. As naked as her tail, it was a dark blue, red-cracked sphere. Between her legs, red pooled and mixed with a bizarrely thick clear juice. The stench of decay swirled from her sweating form in tangible clouds, overpowering rose perfume. Her breasts would be beautiful pillows, soft yet perky, but the veins pulsing across them looked frighteningly large and prominent. Tears streaked down her cheeks, and faint, gurgling sobs echoed throughout the cave. She could not speak. A thick, muscular arm was stuck in her mouth, half of its length already down her throat. Sibada struggled to breathe. The guards took one look at the pitiful thing, and stepped back.

   “We stay until it's over,” one of them, an older fennec, said. They did not have to wait long. She shoved the disembodied arm down her throat, swallowed repeatedly, her throat bulging around the thick length. She looked over at the cauldron next to her, and with a wretched whimper, threw her head back. Clenching her teeth, shutting her eyes against the agony, she clung to herself, sharp little claws digging into unyielding, already-cooling flesh, and screamed around the paw that still dangled from her lips. With a sound like an overfull wine-skin bursting, she split asunder, and all that she was, now, poured out over the cave floor. Sibada the rat choked in the midst of her last anguished cry, seized up, and fell limp. When the twitching, slimy organs spilled everywhere stilled, and the rodent's reflexive kicks ended, the city guard cut off Sibada's head. They swore to never mention the bandit's end to anyone, and left the cave to the scavengers and demons of the desert.

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