Virus by tcyk89

It was only seven p.m., but the sun had already set and the city was drowned in darkness. All the lights in furries’ houses had been turned on and everyone on the street was being cautious, knowing that a homicidal maniac could grab them from behind at any moment and slit their throat and dump their body in the dumpster. It was a very dangerous city at night, full of all sorts of odd individuals, such as the brown weasel with patches of white fur hiding out in one of the alleyways. He had been loitering there for quite some time, watching all the furries and scalies go by, until he came across a canine wearing a black shirt and red jeans. He skimmed the canine’s body for a few seconds before grinning and stepping out of the alleyway in front of him.

“HEY!”

The canine screamed and stumbled, almost falling backwards, shocked by the weasel’s sudden appearance.

“Jesus! You almost scared the shit out of me!” he muttered.

“Hehe, I tend to do that a lot. What’s your name?”

“…What?”

“Oh, no, no, no, it’s, it’s nothing weird I assure you. I’m just curious! You see, my name’s Cremshy, and-and I specialize in performing all sorts of experiments and create all kinds of gadgets and gizmos in my laboratory! And you look like the perfect test subject for my new vial!”

The canine examined the brown and white weasel, noticing his white lab coat and black pants. He certainly did look like a scientist or a doctor, but he seemed…odd. He was fidgeting a little, his fur was messy, and he smelled awful, like he had been sleeping in a dumpster for the past four days. He wanted to believe the weasel, but something told him that Cremshy was a homeless drug addict.

“So…you gonna tell me your name?”

“Err…Tony.”

“Tony! Hehe, that’s a strange name—never heard of that before!”
“Nor have I heard of Cremshy. Look, I’m not sure what your deal is, but maybe you should get some help.”

“Help?! Help with what?!”

“Well, you don’t look like you have much money, or a home, or a job, you’re sweating a little, probably jonesing and you seem…fairly aromatic.”

“I’m not a fuckin’ junkie!” snapped Cremshy, suddenly angry.

“Then you’re a crackhead?”

“NO! I-I-I just want you to come into my lab and just-just try out my new potion! That’s all. It’s no drugs, nothing that will get you high!”

“Uh-huh. Sure. What is this magical ‘potion’ you speak of?”

“Oh, that! It’s a vial that turns you into a filthy, smelly obese slob!”

Tony nodded, putting his tongue in his cheek. “See ya.”

The canine walked past the maniacal weasel, leaving him confused and angry.

“But I—you can’t just—where are you going?!”

“Home. I don’t know what’s up with you, but you need to get some help man, seriously. Stop smokin’ crack or whatever, take the needle out your arm, take a nice, hot bath, and get into rehab. And even if this vial you speak of is real, there’s not a chance in hell that I’d want to become a slob. So, goodbye. I hope you find a great psychiatrist.”

Cremshy was left standing on the sidewalk, alone and upset, but mostly frustrated. He spent so much time creating that potion, wasted so many of his life, even if most of his “life” was sitting at home making gadgets capable of ripping your asshole in half. And now his perfect test subject was walking away, leaving him with his dick in his paws. He muttered something to himself and started to create a fist while gritting his sharp teeth. Meanwhile, Tony was trying to cross the busy intersection, but everytime he pressed the button on the traffic pole, all he could see across the street was the sign with the red paw and the words “DON’T WALK” written on it in red. The canine sighed exasperatedly and looked at his watch after standing there for several minutes. He even tried to cross the street when he thought the coast was clear, but he yelped when a sports car sped by and nearly ran over his leg.

“Fuck it anyways.”

Tony turned around and started to head down an alleyway so he could try the traffic post on the other street. Hopefully he’d be able to cross that way. He’d have to take the long way home, or even have to catch a bus, but it was a better alternative than ending up splattered on the road like Frogger. When Tony was halfway through the alley, he thought he caught a glimpse of something shiny in someone’s doorway, but ignored it when he heard the bus pulling up on the other street. As the canine started to run towards it, Cremshy tackled the dog to the ground and stabbed a syringe in the back of his neck. Then he depressed the plunger and injected Tony with a highly potent sedative. Tony didn’t even have time to scream before his vision started to go hazy, and he passed out.

He woke up inside a brightly lit hi-tech fortress looking building in some neighborhood he knew nothing about. Tony started panting hastily, knowing he was in trouble, and tried to sit up so he could see what was going on. As he tried to move his arms and legs, he noticed that he was bound by something, some kind of leather straps tightly fastened around his wrists and ankles. He couldn’t sit up either due to the straps secured around his abdomen, crotch and just underneath his throat. However, he still managed to look down at the metal table he was tied to. Tony started to freak out a bit now, realizing that he had just been captured and was being held against his will.

“HELP! SOMEONE GET ME THE HELL OUTTA HERE!”

“Oh, It’d be best not to scream. You’ll wake the other test subjects you know.”

Tony looked to his left and saw that same scruffy weasel he ran into in the alleyway walking towards him with a syringe in his right paw and a wide grin on his face.

“You again?! I already told you I don’t—”

“I know, I know—I was there, standing in front of you. I know what you said!”

Tony sighed, his fear suddenly turning into annoyance. “You let me go now, I won’t tell anyone about this. Hell, I may even recommend you to some—”

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” he suddenly snarled, stabbing Tony in the neck with the syringe.

Tony shouted once he was pricked, and glanced over to see the weasel inject him with another odd substance. He was still conscious, so at least it wasn’t sedatives. And he knew that if this demented mammal wanted to kill him, he could’ve slit his throat back in the alley.

“What did you just do?”

“The slob formula my soon-to-be stinky pet! I just injected you with the vial that you said was bogus! I know, you-you must be thinking, ‘But I don’t wanna turn into a fat stinking slob! I wanna go back home and forget about the crazy weasel who clones gorillas just so he can fuck ‘em all in the ass!’”

“…Gorillas…?”

Tony looked over at the weasel and noticed he was inhaling sharply with his teeth grit, and he had his paws open, like he was about to choke someone to death. He was also foaming a bit at the mouth, the drool rolling down his chin onto the floor.

“But no, no, no says I! I have bigger and better things for this world! Many, many wonderful creations as far as the eye can see! And you will all see what marvelous miracles my mind can create and bow down to me!”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Cremshy sighed and rolled his eyes. “I injected you with my slob vial. You’re gonna turn into a slob in the next few minutes while I force feed you.”
“WHAT!”

Cremshy giggled cheerfully. “Oh, don’t worry! It won’t hurt at all! You’ll just put on hundreds of hundreds of pounds and smell so horrid that a skunk will wither up and die upon taking a whiff of your feet!”

Tony started to pant and sweat a little, whining softly to himself. “But I don’t want that to happen!”

“And I didn’t want my wife to cheat on me, but she did that too, THE BITCH! Life isn’t fair, Tony. Accept it. Accept your fate to be my little slobby miracle. Accept that you won’t be able to make it to the bathroom before soiling your trousers!”

Cremshy giggled again and sighed, an eerie, wide smile showing up on his face again.

“But enough rambling. I think it’s time that we begin the process, don’t you?”

The brown and white weasel walked over to a machine and pulled down a dark blue lever. Tony looked up at the ceiling and saw a clear, plastic tube slowly descend until it was a few inches away from his maw.
“What-what the hell is that supposed—”

Tony gagged loudly once the tube suddenly hummed loudly and inserted itself right into his mouth. He muttered something and tried to spit out the tube, but it wouldn’t budge. Whatever was going to come out of that tube, he was gonna have to swallow; vomiting it back up would only make things worse. The canine moved a little and muttered a few more phrases at the weasel, but it was nothing he could understand.

“Just relax Tony. Everything you’re about to ingest is edible, trust me.”

Cremshy pressed a green button on the machine, and after it beeped, Tony heard a loud buzzer go off and saw a strange, mushy, creamy colored substance flowing down the tube rapidly. He could heard the substance gurgling and sloshing as it traveled down, and it wasn’t long until it started to pour down his throat. At first, Tony gagged and his eyes grew wide. He tried to keep the substance in his mouth, but it was useless, and he wound up swallowing some of the substance. At first, he hated it, but after a few seconds, he realized that mashed potatoes were being shoved down his throat. Tony began to swallow the potatoes without hesitation, even though he didn’t really want to. He coughed a couple of times and nearly choked when too much of it was lodged in his throat, but he managed to get it all down. Cremshy watched with much delight as the canine ate all the food and saw his belly bulge upwards a bit, growing just a tad bit fatter. Tony ingested all the mashed potatoes, but only had time for a short breather, as a mixture of fluids and food came down, soaring into his mouth very quickly. He gagged again and coughed several times, having a hard time swallowing what was going down the tube. It tasted like cranberry juice and bell peppers, and if he wasn’t mistaken, large chunks of steak. Not exactly a bad combination, but the concoction was pouring into his throat three times faster than the potatoes. At one point, Tony coughed so hard that some of the juices shot out of his mouth and he started choking, gagging loudly and making guttural noise that sounded like he was about to vomit. Cremshy chuckled to himself and pushed the blue lever back up, thus removing the tube from Tony’s maw and stopping the flow of food. Tony retched twice before coughing up some of the mixture, inhaling and gasping as much as he could.

“How silly of me! I forgot to tilt the table up so you don’t choke! We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Cremshy walked besides the metal table and grabbed the side of it before tilting it upwards so it was at a fifty degree angle from the floor, and Tony was looking at the front door and walls, not the ceiling. He coughed a few more times before looking over at Cremshy.

“Just let me go. Please. I won’t tell…what’s that smell?”

Tony looked down at his fur and noticed that it was a bit damp, and his shirt was a little wet. But it looked like someone threw grease on him, not water. Whatever it was, it smelled terrible, even worse than Cremshy did.
“Well, that was fast! You’re already showing symptoms! I expect you to gain weight shortly! But don’t worry; I’ll make sure you’ll get all the nutrition you need!”

Cremshy pulled down the lever again, and the plastic tube was shoved back into his mouth yet again. He pressed the button on the machine, and more mysterious sludge started pouring down the tube, an unknown dark red substance. Once the food hit Tony’s uvula and tongue, he realized that he was being filled with diced-up pieces of sausage and ribs. Even though Tony loved the spicy taste of it all, he was once again having trouble keeping it all down his throat. He could fill his stomach bulging outwards with each gulp, and his cheeks were becoming a little chubbier now. He also noticed that the smell was a little stronger now, and his shirt was wetter. It wasn’t unbearable, but if what Cremshy said about a skunk dying just from sniffing his toes was true, then this was only the start of it. He swallowed and swallowed and swallowed some more until he finally gagged and a lot of the crushed meat began to spill out the corners of his mouth onto the floor, creating a mess. A loud ding was heard, and the tube stopped delivering meat into Tony’s maw. He took a deep breath and exhaled, hearing himself breathing through the hollow tube. The buzzer sounded again, and more mysterious sludge poured from the ceiling and down into his throat. It was white again, but it tasted more like tuna and onions instead of mashed potatoes. He didn’t like the combination at all, and gagged several times, shutting his eyes as he attempted to regurgitate the revolting concoction. But no matter how hard he tried, it still continued to go down his gullet, short of the small amount he managed to get out the corner of his mouth. His belly slowly bulged outwards even more as it was filled with food, and due to the slob toxin. His pants were becoming a bit wet now, his thighs were growing a bit wider, and his arms gained a little more meat on the bones. Cremshy grinned and giggled evilly as he watched his masterpiece unfold, although the smell was that of a carrion flower blooming. The demented scientist backed away a bit, overcome by Tony’s odor.

Once Tony was finished ingested all the tuna and onions, he retched loudly and belched, spitting up a little bit of the mixture. He didn’t vomit though, although he retched again and could feel some of the bile making its way up his throat. That’s when an odd, royal blue substance started to slither its way down the plastic tube. Tony could hear the sludge as it oozed its way down, like slime moving down a stalactite. Then, when it was inches away from reaching his mouth, the slithering intensified, and the jell-o like blob inserted itself right down Tony’s throat. It felt like jelly going down, and was obviously fattening, because after Tony gulped it down, his stomach bloated up, like he had just been inflated with air. Cremshy waited for a few more seconds before hearing the canine’s stomach churn loudly. He pushed the lever back up and removed the tube so Tony could let out a thunderous burp, followed by a loud, five-second fart. The weasel chuckled as he heard the comical trumpeting sound and waved a paw in front of his nose. He glanced at Tony’s body and saw that it was caked in even more of the greasy substance, and smelled immensely foul. If Cremshy wasn’t mistaken, a light brown haze was appearing over Tony, indicating that the smells his body was giving off weren’t exactly pleasant to smell. Cremshy pulled the lever back down and the tube shoved itself back into the canine’s maw. He continued to gag and even tried to release himself from his restraints. He began to notice how repugnant his scent was as well, and wanted to go home and take a hot bath, wash all this thick sludge from his body. But Cremshy wouldn’t allow that, and more food was being shoved down his gullet into his growing stomach, a messy combination of mashed broccoli and beans now. Again, Tony didn’t mind the taste much, but it was all going in so fast he was having trouble swallowing it. Tasty or not, Tony did not want to become a disgusting, fat slob, and tried to regurgitate the food yet again. His attempts were futile once again, although he managed to succeed in having some of it come out the corners of his mouth. His belly was huge now; the shirt he was wearing was too small for him, and his belly button was showing. His arms and legs were growing wider, his feet were growing bigger, and he was starting to get another chin. His cheeks were bulging now—naturally, not because his mouth was full, and his buttocks were gradually expanding, getting fatter and fatter by the minute. The slime forming around his body was everywhere now, even on his face. It was as though someone was bathing the fat canine inside a vat of rancid lard.

Speaking of which, the next mixture that began to enter Tony’s bloated body was hot butter with some other fats and oils mixed in along with it. Tony couldn’t tell whether or not it was tasty, but all of it brushed past his uvula so fast it seemed like all he could do was vomit everywhere. The buttery concoction splashed all over his face and the floor, and some even slid down his chin (which was starting to gain an additional chin). Tony felt more pressure in his bowels and grunted as he let out another bombastic fart, quickly filling the air with the stench of rotten eggs. He felt full now, like his belly was about to burst wide open. Although, judging by the intense pain he felt in his innards, chances were, it was all gonna come soaring out of his ass. His belly continued to grow, bulging past his belt line and popping off the button the fastened them together. His feet were becoming bigger too, and his thighs, legs and arms were thick and flabby, like someone injected fat directly into them. His fingers and toes were so plump they looked like sausages. Cremshy cautiously stepped towards the canine with a set of clothespins on his nostrils and giggled again as he watched Tony grow and grow, turning into a slob right before his eyes. The sludge forming in his fur was thick and rich now, spread all around his body and face, dripping down onto the floor like syrup. Cremshy couldn’t take it anymore. He just had to see how vile his creation was. The weasel walked over to Tony’s bloated feet and gave them a nice squeeze, murring as he felt all the greasy filth from them get on his latex gloves. He rubbed them up and down for a brief moment before removing his clothespins and leaning forward so he could sniff both of them. At first, Cremshy was lost inside the delicious odor of stinky cheese and corn chips, but after some time, the stink turned into something very, very horrid. It was like acid was being poured inside his nostrils, or someone doused his nose with gasoline and lit it on fire. Whatever the smell was, it was so strong that the scientist immediately backed away and started coughing and hacking. The smell made him woozy and he stumbled and fell on the floor, his vision becoming cloudy and going dark. He tried to breathe, but everytime he inhaled, that horrid stench would creep into his nose and mouth, and made his vision even worse. His head was beginning to hurt, and he was coughing so much that he couldn’t breathe. He rolled over and retched loudly, grabbing the set of clothespins he dropped and clamping his nose shut. But that did him no good, as he could still smell the stench rolling off the obese canine’s slimy body. Cremshy retched again and coughed, expelling a sickly colored blotch of gunk from his mouth. He covered his mouth and rushed over to a nearby trash can, where he promptly threw up his dinner. After puking into the can, he coughed again and spat out the remaining bile hanging from his mouth, giggling softly as he turned and grinned at Tony.

“It’s…it’s working.” he said softly.

Cremshy could see that Tony was choking on the buttery substance and decided to give him a breather by removing the tube from his mouth. He immediately leaned over to his left and expelled a horrible gurgling noise as he regurgitated enough butter to fill a tall glass. He tried not to look at the bile, but as he watched the pale yellow color with bits of food stuck in it splatter against the floor, it only made him more ill. He retched again before vomiting a second time, making a mess all over the floor. Once he was done, he coughed multiple times and looked up to see the tube coming right back down. He didn’t have time to protest before the tube jammed itself in his maw, and more of that royal blue sludge slithered its way down into his mouth. There was three times as much this time, three times more fattening. As Tony was forced to swallow it all, his massive belly expanded in diameter little by little by little, enough for Cremshy to see what was happening. It was so big now that the leather strap holding him down couldn’t take all the pressure, and it snapped right off. His zipped came down by itself, and his shirt was beginning to tear. The weasel was fascinated by all of this, but couldn’t marvel at his smelly work of art because his eyes were burning as tears fell from them (not to mention he was too busy looking for his gasmask). Tony shut his eyes after his stomach churned and released a gust of wind so strong from his anus that the building began to shake, and a few instruments sitting peacefully on a shelf or on a table toppled over. The smell of it was so overwhelming Cremshy thought he was suffocating on mustard gas. He collapsed again and coughed and hacked multiple times, looking like a frail, diseased animal on its deathbed. Lucky for the twisted scientist, he got to his feet and snatched the dark green gasmask he had sitting on a table and panted as he hurriedly strapped the mask onto his face. He took a nice, long breath, and exhaled with victory, free to breathe fresh air.

Tony whined and muttered something that sounded like, “I wanna go home!” or “Stop tormenting me!” or something of that nature. But the weasel wanted Tony as big as possible, and pressed another button on the machine so liters upon liters of water and juice were delivered into his gastrointestinal system. Tony shut his eyes and swallowed all of the fluids. He didn’t want to ingest any of this, but at least he was glad the doctor was kind enough to give him something to wash all the food down with. Tony was so obese that he had a muffin top, and it was nearly impossible to see his waistband. His fingers and toes looked like éclairs full of way too much lard and custard. Cremshy could imagine his ass was big enough to flatten an elephant’s head, and his legs and arms were thick, ready to burst the leather straps right off. The scientist took a tongue depressor he had on a nearby counter and lightly tapped Tony’s gut with it, giggling like a child as he watched and heard it sloshing around. He tapped it again, but this time looked at the piece of wood and saw that it was caked in the grease Tony was covered in, which was also spilling down onto the floor. He tapped the canine’s gut multiple times, amusing himself with the sloshing noise, before he took cover when canine passed another bombastic amount of flatulence. The canine shut his eyes and started whimpering, wiggling his toes and thrashing his legs around. Cremshy removed the tube and let Tony speak (after he coughed up more water).

“Something wrong my malodorous pet?”

“I-I-I gotta…I gotta use the bathroom!”

“Then go.”

Tony shut his eyes and whimpered loudly when he felt his bladder tightening. The next thing he knew, his pants were growing uncomfortably warm, and very moist. The weasel stepped in front of Tony and watched as the canine wet his pants, making a large stain that expanded in only a matter of seconds. He had only pissed himself for four seconds before the yellow fluids started to leak onto the floor, although leak is a major understatement. Tony was peeing so much that the puddle was already expanding around the table he was strapped to, quickly making a disgusting mess. Cremshy frowned and backed away as the puddle approached him, before shutting his eyes and shaking his head.
“I’m gonna be up all night mopping this mess up…” he muttered.

Once Tony was done urinating (and leaving an immense puddle on the floor) Cremshy went back to the machine and continued with the operation. The dog didn’t care anymore about what the tube fed him. He just wanted to go home, take a hot bath—no, a bath couldn’t cure this stink. He’d have to be quarantined, and then bathed, and then rolled around in dishwashing soap. That would get rid of at least half the stink. One minute Tony was being stuffed with steamy hot fondue, the next he was being stuffed with scrambled eggs and bacon bits. He watched as his belly grew more and more after each filling, and he had several chins. Saliva was dribbling down his face along with the fluids he couldn’t swallow. His arms and legs had exceeded their limit, and were so fat that the leather straps snapped right off too. He was free, but he weighed 300 pounds more than he did when he was kidnapped. He wasn’t used to his new, slobbery body, and couldn’t move. He could barely even lift his head. Even if he wanted to escape, he’d just fall right back down after taking his first step. And all this grease and slime dripping off his body was so thick and putrid; it looked like it would stick to his foot like a chewed-up piece of gum. Cremshy merely laughed and toyed with the obese and slobby canine, tapping him on the stomach multiple times and feeding him more food (however he made sure to keep his mask on). If the scientist didn’t know any better, the metal table Tony was lying on was rusting, and he heard it pop a couple of times and lose a few bolts. It was going to collapse at any moment.
It wasn’t until after Tony was fed more sludge—this time mauve colored—that his stomach rumbled some more and he had to use the bathroom. Tony grunted and tried to grab his tummy, but his fat arms couldn’t reach. He lay there gritting his teeth after Cremshy removed the tube again and shut his eyes. The canine started to cross his flabby legs, but it was no use. He could feel the hard, lumpy blocks of shit quickly filling up his jeans as they quickly exited his tailhole. They were smushed between the table and Tony’s buttocks and smeared all around his underwear and pants. However, due to all the food, Tony was actually hyper shitting. It only took a short time before some of the hard feces began to spill down his furry legs and splattered onto the floor. Compared to the stench of Tony himself, his shit smelled like flowers. Of course, the canine was upset that he was ruining a good pair of jeans; he already ripped them during his transformation. Whilst defecating, Tony belched another time, expelling a funky mist from his maw into the air. A second later, the table collapsed with a loud bang and Tony fell to the floor, letting out another fart as he sighed and let out more dung. The amount of sludge Tony was caked in now was horrendous. His fur was drenched in the fetid muck, which was so thick now that it could be considered an adhesive. The smell was strong enough to kill flowers and other plants, and if a skunk was in the room, probably make it suffocate on the smell until it died. Even with the gasmask on, Cremshy could still smell some of the musk and slobby odor rolling off his flabby body. He stepped towards the canine and grinned, patting him on his gargantuan stomach and making him belch again. Tony had gained at least 500 pounds, and was so stinky that his odor could peel the paint off a wall. But Cremshy still had another trick up his sleeve that he should play.

After Tony was done releasing excrement into his pants (and all over the floor), Cremshy pulled the lever down one last time, grinning once the tube was inserted into his mouth.
“You know, with how fat you are I’m sure it’ll only be a matter of time before your ravenous appetite starts to come about. But…before that happens, maybe you can help me out. See, my septic tank’s becoming a bit full so…”
Cremshy grinned and looked up at the plastic tube after the buzzer was heard. He watched as the feces stored in his septic tank began to slide down the tube noisily, and splashed into Tony’s maw. The instant the taste of the fecal matter hit his tongue, he retched and started shaking his head, gagging multiple times as he desperately tried to induce vomiting. But the tube was lodged far into his gullet, almost to a point where he couldn’t move his tongue. It wasn’t necessarily the smell that got to him, but rather the nauseating taste. Whatever Cremshy and all the test subjects were eating tasted five times more disgusting in the form of slurry. It was so bitter, like Tony was swallowing hot mud and butter simultaneously. Even if the taste was appetizing, the canine couldn’t ignore the fact that the brown, squishy material pouring into his maw was something that came out of a weasel’s derriere. He screamed multiple times, jerking his head around a little and retching as he choked on all the shit, while Cremshy simply watched, unable to keep that grin off his face. After ingesting about a liter or two of the filth, Tony remembered that his arms and legs weren’t tied to the table anymore. He could move his arms at free will now. The slobbery behemoth grunted and let out a loud, but short fart as he closed his eyes and started to lift his fat arms, which were full of lard. Unfortunately, along with the abysmal stench and obesity came laziness and the ability to grow weary very quickly. Tony hadn’t even lifted his arms six inches from the floor before his heart began to beat rapidly, and he started to have trouble breathing, like he just got through running five miles. He wanted to remove the tube from his mouth so, so bad, but he just didn’t have the energy for it. He was far too fat to do much of anything, except lie there and take what was coming to him. He exhaled with defeat and lowered his arms. Cremshy decided to give Tony a little breather and removed the tube for a short moment. Immediately after it was gone, Tony began to puke all over the floor and himself, regurgitating as much slurry that got into his system as possible. God, there was so much sludge everywhere, Tony thought he’d pass out from his own body odor; he was already feeling a bit hazy, although that was probably from the excessive vomiting. He puked for twenty seconds, belching and expelling a ghastly gurgling sound from his maw, before he coughed a couple of times and moaned loudly. Then the tube came right back down, and the excrement started to flow again.

Words couldn’t describe the grossness of the situation. Tony didn’t even look like a dog anymore. He just looked like a giant, furry brown blob covered in grease and drool and vomit. The only way Cremshy could test out Tony’s stink level was by giving the pedestrians outside a nice whiff of his odor. So he unlocked one of his windows and pushed open the pain, letting the smell emanating from the canine roll off his body into the wilderness. At first, there was nothing, but then thirty seconds later, a small bundle of furries started sniffing the air and groaning with disgust over the unknown stench seeping into their nostrils. Suddenly, the clamoring became louder and louder and a few furs began to cough and retch. One of them even rushed over to a trash can to go vomit. And to think, only a minute had gone by and a small crowd could smell Tony’s odor, and one—no, two of them had already thrown up. Cremshy closed the window and chuckled evilly to himself before standing next to his bloated creation, making sure he wasn’t close enough to get any of the feces on his lab coat.

“My dear, sweet, slobby dog…oh, you’ll make such a ruckus tomorrow when I set you out in the field. Just remember: there’s only one way to cure your hunger,”

The last thing Tony saw before passing out was a weasel wearing a mask that made him sound like Darth Vader. He let out a low, hollow laugh before grinning widely and watching the canine close his eyes and lose consciousness.
He was still alive. Stinky, lazy, and weighing about a thousand pounds more than usual, but alive. The canine woke up and saw that he was sitting in a bed (which broke under his weight) and that he wasn’t in Cremshy’s lab anymore. He wasn’t in his own room that was for sure; he would’ve gotten stuck getting through the front door. He noticed that he was also wearing a pair of boxers and a sweaty, smelly white tank-top that actually fit his body (although his belly was still bulging out beyond the waistband). As the bloated Tony started to wake up, he ripped a fart so gargantuan he could’ve blown a TV right into the wall if his ass had been aiming in that direction. But to his surprise, he didn’t mind the horrid stench of rotten eggs and the sludge his body was caked in. He just sighed and closed his eyes, letting out another titanic gas bubble that shook his entire room. He was going to get up, but why bother? He was a lazy fat bastard; the only thing he was good for was lying in bed and sleeping all day, rolling around in his own filth like a pig. At least, until he realized that he was hungry, and that he had to pee real badly. It wasn’t just a simple piss you take after drinking too much water, more like one where if you don’t use the bathroom this very second, your kidneys will rupture. And due to his size, Tony knew that if he wet himself again, he’d flood the room he was in. So, he groaned loudly and gradually lifted his head from the pillow, hearing a loud squelch as the thick sludge his head was caked in stretched off the fabric like rubber cement. After sitting up, Tony looked at his clinically obese body, his fat arms, legs and footpaws, and grunted as he let out another muffled fart. It was so massive he thought he’d blow a hole in his underwear. Tony then grunted and tried to move one of his legs off the bed, but all he managed to do was wiggle his toes. He was so lazy and obese he could barely even move his limbs. Tony was already panting and sweating, and all he did was sit up. He looked down at his flabby legs and grunted again, this time trying to move his left foot. Tony managed to slide it along the bed sheets a few inches, hearing the slimy gunk stuck on his legs squish as he moved. He looked down at the corner of his bed and grimaced once he noticed how much grease and malodorous slime was on the floor. It looked like gel now, and was so revolting the older version of Tony would’ve puked if he saw it jiggle. But the new Tony didn’t mind. He didn’t like being fat and stinky and flatulent and unable to move, but now that he was, he just had to deal with it. No amount of bitching or crying would solve his condition.

Tony huffed loudly and jerked his left leg sideways; smiling once he finally got the limb on the floor. He looked at his other leg and saw that it was already beginning to slide to the side from all the grease, so all he had to do was jerk it to his left as well. He huffed again and moved his leg, smiling widely once his right footpaw made contact with the wooden floor. He felt accomplished with himself, happy that he succeeded in moving his legs from the broken bed. Sure, he was an obese slob, but at least he could still move, maybe even walk. The smile quickly turned into a frown when Tony looked down at his boxers and saw that they were becoming very warm and soggy again. He forgot that he had to use the bathroom so badly and wound up wetting himself again. Like last time, the urine dripped down his legs in a matter of seconds, and his feet were soaked in a yellow puddle in record time. Tony sighed exasperatedly and grumbled. He wasn’t ashamed that he pissed himself, like last time. Actually, he found it annoying, like a house fly buzzing in his ear, because he knew that now he had to change his undies or walk around wearing a pair of drawers that were literally soaking wet. Oh, fuck it anyway, he thought. I weigh over a thousand pounds and I’m already battered in all this stinky muck; no one’s gonna give a shit that I peed myself too. The canine sighed with defeat and waited until he finished wetting his boxers, watching as the giant rivulet spread all around the room and even into the hallway a little. His room began to reek of piss, which was intensified due to his slobbiness and girth. But eventually, he stopped peeing himself. Tony huffed several times and moaned loudly as he slowly rose from the broken bed, his bulbous fat ass no longer crushing the bed. He lifted his right foot and struggled as he took a step and headed for the closet, leaving a giant footprint made of slime on the floor. He huffed again and groaned as he stepped forward with his other foot, desperately trying to keep himself balanced. If he toppled over and fell on his back or belly, he wouldn’t want to get up for another five hours. So the blubbery dog slowly but surely headed towards his closet, grabbing the doorknob and twisting it so he could put on some clothes. He figured he might as well have the decency to dress up a little. As he opened his closet, he sighed heavily again, realizing that the only outfit for him to wear was a gray sweat suit complete with a sweatshirt and sweatpants. They were so large Tony thought a feral rhino could wear the pants and they’d fit perfectly. He huffed again and grabbed the suit. Now that he was out of bed, he could finally find a way to cure his voracious appetite.

Walking was tough, especially in the sweat suit. As if it wasn’t already bad enough trying to keep himself balanced and refraining from wetting himself again or having a heart attack, he had to deal with the dozens of pedestrians who saw him on the street and, for no reason, either shouted at him to lose some weight or to get quarantined, stuff in that manner. Everywhere he walked, he left a thick trail of stinky gel behind him, so adhesive that anyone who stepped in it would have to wait until it dried so they could shatter it to pieces with a hammer and remove their foot. It was like wet cement, only four times thicker. A navy blue wolf was the first to see just how powerful the gel was, as he tripped and landed face first into his muck. After gagging from the smell of it, he began to panic when he tried to lift his head, and couldn’t move because his right cheek was stuck. Tony knew that he smelled vile, but Cremshy wasn’t kidding about that skunk comment. The fat canine saw a mephitidae walking in the grass about five feet away from him, and after it stood on its hind legs and smelled the air, it squeaked and suddenly fell on its back, dead. Tony raised an eyebrow and waddled over to the deceased skunk, tapping it lightly with his rancid toes to see if it would move. It didn’t. Tony looked left and right before he bent over, grabbed the skunk, and shoved it down his mouth. He was just so damn hungry that he couldn’t wait any longer. He needed a snack until he reached the nearest restaurant he could. As he bent over and ate the skunk, he heard several distasteful comments from nearby furries about how fat his ass was, and that he made the inhabitants of Viletopia sound clean. Tony turned around and saw the pedestrians making the comments (including one who looked like he was about to puke) and promptly farted in their direction. He passed gas so hard everyone on the block heard him. It was so rambunctious that a few furs thought an earthquake was happening. And even though the fart was only aimed at the jeering pedestrians, it could be smelled almost a mile away, maybe more. Two of the furs threw up instantly, another was thrown off his feet, and another collapsed to the ground, coughing and hacking on the noxious fumes until he passed out (or died; Tony didn’t check to see if he could feel a pulse). When he finished eating the skunk, he stood back up, got back on the sidewalk, and continued heading for the restaurant.

“Must…have to…get food.” he wheezed.

Tony came to an intersection and stood near the Don’t Walk/Walk sign next to a couple of other scalies. All of them glanced at the blubbery, slobbering beast for only a few seconds before they decided that it would be better if they left him alone, and moved as far away from the foul blob as possible. Only, Tony’s hunger was getting worse as each second went by. So, as one of the lizards began to walk away, the canine grabbed the scaley by his tail and dragged him towards his massive girth, struggling to lift his entire body into the air. It wasn’t that he wasn’t strong enough, but he was just too damn lazy to do much work. When the lizard was near his maw, he opened his mouth and shoved the lizard into his maw head first. The lizard squealed as he was slowly being devoured by the beast, encountering a wave of thick drool and muck, not to mention the nauseating, humid breath swirling around in Tony’s mouth. He wanted to throw up, the smell was so strong, but that would only make things worse. Even though his mouth wasn’t big enough, Tony had no trouble swallowing the cold-blooded animal. The pedestrian started panting and shaking as he slowly slid down his slimy, red gullet and landed into his fat tummy. The canine slurped up the lizard’s tail noisily before gulping as hard as he could and huffing afterwards. He then proceeded to bend over a little so he could pass gas again, making all the leaves fall out of the bush behind him. The sign up ahead finally changed and Tony sighed heavily as he began to walk in the middle of the street. Unfortunately, no matter how hungry he was, he still moved as slow as a tortoise, if not slower. The furries in their cars covered their noses and snouts with their shirts as the fat canine walked by, the smell of his B.O. enough to make them all puke. It took him over a minute to walk just one foot, and by that time, the sign read “DON’T WALK” again and the cars began to move. Many of the drivers honked their horns at him and swore at him while waving their fists in the air, but he ignored it all and continued to move…up until his stomach began to act up. Tony groaned twice and hunched over, hearing his stomach rumble so loudly he thought he was about to explode. Instead, he let out a foul, greasy fart and started to soil himself.
He didn’t even feel it coming. Maybe it was because of the lizard he just vored, maybe the skunk, but Tony had no control over his bowels anymore; incontinence was one of the side effects. At first, it was only one thick log, but after a short time, Tony shut his eyes and grunted, and more logs the size of thick bratwursts started to fill up his underwear. Everyone who could see Tony’s fat butt saw his sweatpants bulging outwards, and then turn bright brown. A few pedestrians raised an eyebrow and questioned with disbelief if a grown dog was really shitting himself in the middle of the street, and their questions were answered when he let out another greasy fart, and multiple lumps started to fill his pants. Some of the drivers groaned with disgust and drove around the flabby beast, whilst others got out of their cars and attempted to shove Tony out of the way, only to veer their head backwards and vomit when the odor of his body got caught in their nostrils. Tony felt relieved, but he also felt annoyed, because he was hyper shitting. As a result, his underwear and pants began to bulge and sag towards the ground in only a couple of seconds. There was so much shit in his underwear that it couldn’t fit anymore, and several of the lumps slid down his pants and plopped on the ground or his feet. He didn’t try to hold any of it in, figuring it’d just be better to let his body do all the work. So he stood there, hunched over, drooling and shitting himself ridiculously as the lump in his pants sagged along the ground, now light brown and smelling so foul…well, if Tony’s B.O. killed a skunk with one whiff, then nothing good could be said about the smell of his shit. Tony soiled himself for a good forty seconds before he finished up and released a short, but still wet and foul-smelling gas bubble. He panted a couple of times when he finished, and then sighed and stood up so he could continue his journey. He didn’t have to worry about anyone disturbing him. Everyone on the block had either run away or was unconscious.

He stormed right into the fast-food eatery, dragging more of that foul sludge behind him with each step he took. A dragon yelped when he slipped in the thick adhesive he left behind, but Tony paid no attention. He was finally here, at a restaurant that served chicken that had been fried in fat and oil. The smell of it all made his mouth water; so much that he was making a small pool of saliva on the floor. Everyone who smelled Tony turned to stare at him, and the immense brown lumps pressing against his sweatpants. It was obvious that he shat himself, but even more surprising was that he didn’t care. He didn’t even bother to change himself, or even take off his pants. The canine waddled over to the front of the line (which took no time, since everyone left once they smelled him) and stood in front of the counter. He started huffing and panting with his jaw hanging and drool spilling out of his mouth onto the floor. Everytime he tried to speak, he just wound up exhaling, trying to catch his breath after walking for so long. The cashier standing in front of him was turning a little green in the face, trying to hold her vomit in each time Tony exhaled. His breath was so strong and noxious that it was nauseating, and the ferret couldn’t cope with the smell. She retched and ran into the back of the restaurant, where those who remained inside heard her throwing up. Tony sighed exasperatedly, knowing that he was gonna have to get all the food himself. So he grabbed the counter and hoisted himself into the air, grunting and moaning as he strained himself and tried to make his flabby arms support his entire mass. He let out a humid burst of gas from his ass and sighed, making many of the patrons eating their meals scream and gag once they smelled the odor. Once Tony was halfway over the counter, with his gargantuan ass high in the air and pointing at the customers, he expelled another fart, one so big that the entire restaurant shook. Chairs started to rock, a couple of windows shattered, and several cups of soda vibrated and danced their way to the edge of the table, where their contents were spilled all over the ground. The patrons who didn’t pass out from the smell were busy vomiting all over themselves or running out of the restaurant, wheezing and hacking. The floor was covered in various colored patches of yellow and red and green puke, as well as Tony’s muck, the air was thick with the stench of decaying meat and rotten eggs, and there was a giant blob in the middle of the building desperately trying to grab a chicken leg from one of the metal trays on the counter next to the deep fat fryer. All the employees did exactly what the customers did, and decided that it was best to leave before they puked all over their uniforms. Tony had the whole place to himself, and could stink up the building as much as he wanted to.

The dog got across the counter (after straining and farting for ten minutes) and landed on his puffy, smelly feet. He smiled widely and giggled before he headed towards the tray and began to dump all the chicken into his mouth. He didn’t chew the meat off the bones—he didn’t chew at all actually. He just dumped all the fried chicken into his maw, gulping it all down without much effort. Once that tray was empty, he tossed it aside and dunked his grimy paws into a container full of French fries. He grabbed a giant handful and scarfed it all down his throat, stuffing his face over and over and over again, smacking noisily as bits of food spilled down his chins and belly. Once half the fries were gone, he let out a seismic burp and grabbed another tray full of chicken, dumping all of that down his mouth too. When that was all gone, Tony patted his now fatter belly and farted triumphantly, feeling good about himself. But as strange as it was, he was still hungry—thirsty too. And if he didn’t know any better, he had to use the bathroom…again. It was already bad enough he was hauling a boulder around in his sweatpants, now he needed another one lodged back there? Tony ignored his abdominal trauma and headed over to the drink machines, where he lowered his head underneath one of the slots and pressed the clear button with his meaty index finger. He opened his mouth and chugged as much of the beverage as he could, disregarding the fact that some of it was getting in his fur. He burped after drinking half the concoction, before moving his head over to the side and pressing the clear button for that beverage so he could down all of that as well. Tony was so busy drinking the soda that he didn’t even realize he was wetting himself again. His pants were turning dark grey, and the stain was running from his groin all the way down his legs, until urine was splashing all over his footpaws and the floor. He was practically flooding the area from pissing so much, creating a puddle that quickly spread all around the kitchen. Eventually, Tony noticed that his pants were becoming warm again, and stopped chugging the soda to look down and see the giant mess he made. But once again, he didn’t seem to give a damn, and was more annoyed than embarrassed that he wet himself. He thought about changing his pants, but before he had the chance to pull them down, he shouted, hunched over, and began to pass gas and defecate. He was hyper shitting again, unfortunately, and his pants couldn’t cope with all the dung anymore. There was so much of it that some was actually spilling out over his waistband and plopping onto the ground. The sound of it was revolting, like stepping on wet sponges followed by a loud, and somewhat humorous splattering noise. It looked like Tony really did have a boulder shoved in the seat of his pants, and the mess was quickly overflowing by each second.

Once Tony finished defecating for 90 seconds, filling his pants with balls of shit the size of his head, he was rendered immobile. There was just so much shit in his pants that he literally could not move, not without toppling over on himself and being buried underneath all the shit. With no other option, he sighed and huffed as he pulled down his pants and underwear and got out of them, revealing his musky nether regions and gigantic ass, the buttocks smothered in grease and his own excrement. He didn’t care that he was naked from the waist down. He didn’t care that he stank. He didn’t care that he left a pile of shit that weighed over 100 pounds in his pants. He just wanted to satisfy his hunger, by any means necessary. But there was no more food left. What the hell was he supposed to eat now, his feces? …Actually, all the brown sludge looks just like chocolate pudding, thought Tony. He knew it was gonna be gross, and taste awful, but it was the only way he could appease his insatiable hunger. So he waddled towards the sweatpants, got on his knees, and bent over so he could grab the excrement and stuff it all in his mouth. He didn’t like the taste of it, or the smell for that matter, but it was edible to him, so he continued to eat. Tony was smearing it all over his mouth, chewing on it or gulping it down like ice cream, and letting out nasty, foul belches periodically. There was so much shit in his pants he knew that once he was finished, he could finally go back home and digest, hopefully without the worry of pissing the bed again. It was until Tony devoured a good ten pounds or so that the smell and taste finally kicked in. The dog looked in his right paw and saw that it was covered in shit. Dark brown, dirty, stinky shit. The sight of it made him feel queasy, so queasy that he retched and had to cover his mouth. But that didn’t help him any, and he leaned forward and puked all over the pile of shit, letting out the disgusting gurgling sound and adding a new, dark yellow tint to his shit. He threw up for ten seconds, wiped his mouth, and then puked again. This time he was regurgitating all the French fries and whole chicken he forced down his throat. It wasn’t as bad as throwing up all that shit, but frankly, looking at chunks of chicken and fries mixed with dark green sludge wasn’t a pretty sight either. Tony finished puking after another ten seconds and wiped his mouth, letting out labored breaths. He was tired now, exhausted from walking around and eating so much. And yet, there was a big pile of vomit and dung right there in front of him, waiting to be eaten. Tony thought about just tilting backwards and falling asleep right then and there, but he was still hungry…and there was a giant pile of excrement and bile right there. He looked left and right, and then dunked his face into the slurry and started chowing down again.

It wasn’t until about several minutes later that the cops showed up once everyone called to complain about a strange dog stinking up the city, and causing chaos at a local chicken restaurant. Once the officers showed up, they stepped inside the building and gagged or puked upon their discovery. There was an canine who weighed more than 1000 pounds sleeping on a pile of his own piss, shit and vomit, nude from the waist down and passing gas in his sleep. At first, the cops thought about calling the hospital, but after seeing the unconscious, probably dead civilians, and noticing that the air was thick with a noxious and rather fetid odor, they thought it was best to call HAZMAT so they could quarantine the area.

“Wow, uh…well, you certainly proved us wrong, Dr. Cremshy.”

The weasel was standing inside another laboratory showing off his latest creation to a few cougars wearing dark suits and sunglasses who work for the government. On display inside a locked room with walls made of steel nearly five inches thick and bulletproof glass windows was a giant, brown, smelly blob that was busy drooling all over himself and scarfing down as much food as possible. The canine inside the room wasn’t sure where he was or how he got there, but he was okay, because he had a smorgasbord sitting right in front of him.

“As you can all see, the potion that you all said were impossible to create and that didn’t exist is highly effective.”

Tony stopped eating so he could pass gas, making the building shake so much the cougars nearly fell down.

“…You mean to tell us you created that with just one injection of your vial?”

“I had to force feed him to speed up the reaction, but yes.”

“That’s incredible! Well, I have to say we’re impressed. We’ll uh, just be confiscating that supply of slob TF potion you have now…”

The cougar yelped when Cremshy whipped out a scalpel and sliced his paw open, grinning maliciously.

“After you pay me.”

One of the felines grumbled to himself, but eventually picked up a briefcase and opened it up so Cremshy could see all the money inside. The weasel nodded his head with approval and grabbed the case before sliding his supply of the slob TF formula to the government agents.

“Pleasure doing business with you. Just remember, you never saw us, and this never happened.”

“You know, I don’t think I’m the one who should be worried here. Tell me, do any of you know what it feels like to have your head severed from your shoulders, and to survive the ordeal so I can use your severed head as my personal fuck-toy?”

The agents decided not to answer and hurriedly left the building.

In a hospital back in the city, a navy blue wolf was sitting down in his hospital bed after the paramedics were forced to remove most of his right cheek from the ground. He remembered falling into some sludge a fat dog left behind, but he didn’t think it was that sticky. As he sat in bed, waiting to fall asleep, he smelled something foul in the air. Curious, he sniffed his armpits and groaned with disgust, before removing his covers and smelling his toes as well, which stank like Limburger cheese. He didn’t know why, but he was starting to stink, and felt a little greasy. He looked down at his belly and noticed it was bigger than before, and he was overweight now. The wolf tapped his belly twice, and it growled at him and bulged outwards a little.

“The hell?”

If he didn’t know any better, it was like he was getting fatter and stinkier as each second passed by…