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The New York Run

By Psion

A Silicon City Story

All Rights Reserved

New York City, the largest city in North America if not the entire world, a sprawling metropolis full of apartments, office complexes, culture, industry, and more vehicle traffic then any being born outside of the city would consider healthy. A towering beacon of hope and opportunity for some, and a festering den of crime, inequity, and violent ends for others...

Within the ethnic neighborhood of Little Italy, the small pawnshop hardly looked like much. A space barely bigger then a celebrity's walk-in closet filled with neatly organized piles of junk locked away in glass cases, the only real oddity about this particular shop was that it was owned by a Russian mink operating in a traditionally Italian neighborhood. Other then that, people hardly paid the establishment any attention at all. Which is exactly how the Glazkovs, a fledgling Russian crime family trying to establish themselves in America, wanted it. Even if anyone did come in, the floor and basement were completely soundproof, making it impossible for shoppers to hear the trafficked slaves imprisoned below their feet. Still, a few sloppy missteps made recently were costing the family big. A recent rash of abductions had caused the police to inspect every exit going in and out of Manhattan Island. Most of their usual smugglers had flatly refused to work with the family until the blockade was lifted, forcing them to resort to an unusual individual who could allegedly smuggle past any cordon...

It was the end of the day when the heavy-set vixen arrived. The mink, a younger member of the family, was starting to close up for the night and allow the property's other business to take over. Watching her while going through the motions of counting the day's earnings and making sure every transaction was logged and accounted for, the pawn broker paid her no mind at first. Outside of a distinctly pear-shaped figure with a pronounced gut, there wasn't anything particularly unusual about the white-furred fox. Fur pattern was normal, clothing appeared a bit baggy but nothing particularly outlandish, nothing seemed unusual.

"May I help you?" The Russian mustelid asked at last.

"I was told to come here to pick up a delivery." She replied, discreetly sliding a small card with the family's crest across the counter.

The male's eyes briefly flickered as he picked up the card and hid it under the cash register. "You must be the one I was told to look for. I hope you're as discreet as the others think you are though, it's bad form flashing our seal around like that."

"Yes it is, fortunately you're smart enough to recognize it as such. I suppose that means at least one of the underlings isn't completely brainless." The vixen replied, her voice carrying an accent that took the Russian a moment to recognize as Canadian. It was staunchly urbane, lacking the traditional "Eh?" of the more rural Great White North.

The mink decided to take her remark as a compliment and declined to comment. Finishing up his work, he checked the store one last time to make sure he was alone with the vixen before locking the door, activating the security cage, and flipping the sign to "closed." Wordlessly he led the waddling vixen into the backroom and down a hidden flight of stairs into the basement where several family members were in the midst of a heated discussion.

"We shouldn't have hired this vixen. Surely we can wait out the police activity and resume business in the next few weeks?" One voice argued just as the vulpine smuggler was lead down to the door.

"Our clients are already getting impatient. If we wait any longer they might start thinking about finding other suppliers... We need to get this out of the city now."

Before the argument could continue, the vixen was ushered into the room and the door promptly shut behind her. The clerk wasn't the one who caused the family to be in an uproar but he certainly wasn't going to take any chances by walking into their line of fire. The smuggler wasn't fazed by this, very rarely was she hired to smuggle live cargo when business was going smoothly. The nature of how she hide her freight made others uneasy to hire her for running slaves unless they absolutely had to.

One of the mustelids, presumably the patriarch of this family, looked up. "Welcome Barge, glad you could make it." The weathered mink smiled as the vixen walked in.

"This is the mutant?" One of his neighbors asked in a whisper that Barge's vulpine ears picked up. The question brought a smile to her lips. Yes, Barge the mutant with the ability to swallow a small car. Barge the super-powered big eater. Barge the bitch willing to eat anything or anyone for a quick buck. At a glance, "super-eating" was perhaps one of the most useless powers to be given but the vixen made it work, she made it work brilliantly in the discreet shipment of contraband. No one ever thought to ultrasound or x-ray a fatfur's stomach and at a normal weight of roughly three hundred pounds, she hardly fit the profile of the usual half-starved drug mules desperate for even a pittance. Conversely, her forays into handling live cargos had caused people to get uneasy around her. Rumor was she enjoyed the bloating and squirming of ingesting a live person... which was true, she enjoyed it immensely. She enjoyed it almost as much as stuffing herself to her limits with anything and everything.

Taking her seat in a chair just a few inches too small for her ample bottom, she joined the meeting in earnest and listened for what was expected of her. The shipment was locked away in a storeroom behind the conference room. In addition to the freight, there was a member of the family chosen to "make sure" nothing happens to the goods. The way he said it made it clear to her how he was supposed to "protect" his charges, the vixen smiled as she thought about how much extra meat she was being fed. The meeting adjourned soon afterwards, the vixen was shepherded into the backroom and promptly left alone to start the loading process.

Barge smiled and licked her lips as she eyed up what they wanted her to ship; three female mice, all of them pleading with her in Russian, and a tied up and beaten down thug who apparently overstepped his bounds and necessitated her hiring. The mice anthros were cargo, the legbreaker was just packing material to make sure the girls arrived safely.

Starting with the dazed enforcer, a muscular weasel tied with straw rope, the short-haired female opened her mouth wide, detaching her jaw with an audible pop, and stretched her maw out further then the rodents thought possible. A greedy glint in her eyes, the fox gulped the male down headfirst. Pressing his shoulders together and gently coaxing them down her throat, getting down to his ankles in three quick gulps. With his shoed feet still sticking out of her mouth, the smuggler straightened herself out and undid her belt before she finished swallowing shoes and all. Her stomach finished bulging out into a round orb as big as a beachball. Looking like a female nine months pregnant with triplets, Barge smiled and rubbed her swollen belly. This was always her favorite part of the job...

The mice were small and half-starved from captivity, offering little resistance to a greedy maw capable of swallowing a fat ursine whole. Barge still took her time, savoring the flavor of each mouse as they slowly slide down past her tongue. Slurping up the tail of the last one like a thin noodle, the vixen suppressed a belch with her fingers and giggled softly. Giving her gut another loving rub, she drank in all the sensations flooding through her body. The gentle squirming struggle of prey, the bloated fullness, and the feeling of... of girth, of size, of mass, however one wanted to describe it she was enormous, a waddling battleship on legs. This was why she loved her powers, for a little while at least she was a titan without peer....

Her belly started to groan and gurgle ominously, reminding her of the ticking clock, and the vixen smiled before starting the laborious task of navigating her massive gut out the door and upstairs to her car. With the fleshy white-furred orb sagging down to her knees and jutting out a full three feet in front of her; that became quite the achievement. Slowly and with no small amount of help from the pawnbroker clerk, she managed to make her way back to the parking lot where she left her car. Pushing the driver's seat back as far as it would go, she squeezed her bloated body into the seat and smiled as the suspension groaned slightly.

Nodding in understanding as she received her instructions for the delivery, Barge drove off and slowly navigated her way out of the city. New York traffic was as horrific as she remembered it being, her pace was slowed to a crawl for at least an hour as her modified sedan slowly crept towards the city limits. On the plus side, this was looking like it would be a very gentle trip on her tummy. One restrained morsel and three that were too weak to offer much resistance, the only pain came from where her steering wheel gently bit into her bloated abdomen.

Soon, she arrived at the police cordon. It wasn't much but then it couldn't be much or otherwise it would have attracted too much attention. Just a few officers performing what looked like a sobriety checkpoint. Smiling when the cop waved her into the queue, she pulled up and rolled down her window. "Good evening officer, is there something I can help you with?" She asked cheerfully.

The raccoon in the police blues was clearly trying not to appear taken aback by her size, unable to figure out if she was heavily pregnant, immensely fat, or both. In any case she was clearly sober and not acting suspicious so she ended up being waved through and was able to get onto the state highway. Her stomach groaned as she drove on, threatening to start breaking down her occupants if it didn't get more food soon. The vixen merely smiled and tried to recall where her favorite buffet in the area was...

The Chinese buffet was a little hole in the wall dive tucked away in a strip mall about two miles off the highway in Bethlehem Pennsylvania about a hundred miles away from New York; surprisingly good food given the location and general reputation of Chinese places in the backwoods of Pennsylvania, why they even accepted her diner's club card.

The lithe red panda raised an eyebrow as he watched this big-bellied vixen waddle in and raised her index finger. "One, please." She asked politely.

The host blinked for a moment, wondering why this female looked vaguely familiar and why he thought he saw her somewhere before. Shaking his head and eyeing the platinum Gourmet Club diner's card, he decided that whoever she was couldn't be too important or she wouldn't be eating here. Smiling, he nodded and led her to a corner table near the buffet line. Placing a drink order, she made her way over to the buffet line and started loading up plates. Carefully balancing three dishes loaded high with food, she sat back down. Lo mien, General Tso's chicken, a mix of steamed and mixed rice, and Mongolian stir-fry. Each dish heaped with a pile of food bigger then her head.

The cacophony of flavors slid down her throat as she shoveled one steaming forkful after another into her mouth. Giggling, she slid a second chair underneath her swelling buttocks before finishing up her first course. Getting back up, she slowly repeated the process. Wonton soup, beef teriyaki, even the disgustingly half-hearted chicken nuggets, French fries, and onion rings they reserved for picky eaters too afraid to even try the pseudo-Chinese that passed for food in most of these places. By the time her bill came around about an hour later, she had tried each of the entrees at least once and was starting to think about dessert. Her stomach had further bulged and distended outward, groaning softly as her silent prisoners were buried in chewed up food. Giving her middle an appraising prod, she decided to go for dessert. One bowl of ice cream and three plates of flavored gelatin later, the vixen waddled back to the cash register to pay her bill. Growing by nearly half of her starting weight, the engorged diner's shape had more in common with a fruit then a mammal. Hips swayed wildly as her legs struggled to support her immense frontal ballast; Barge leaned up against the counter and smiled as she handed her card to the shocked cashier.

Lumbering out of the restaurant and back to her car, the smuggler belched heartily and squeezed back into her vehicle. Her stomach protested to being squeezed against the steering wheel, bloated with her cargo and at least one serving of an entire buffet menu. Groaning and fussing, she checked the time. Her deadline was to be in Pittsburgh by tomorrow evening, there was still plenty of time to dust off a few more buffets and find a motel for the night...

After the second buffet, the vixen dragged her bloated body into the motel. The desk clerk was surprised to say the least but still handed her a room key on the first floor... at his insistence. Barge was too tired to care, the ground floor sounded perfectly fine. Locking her car and squeezing her immense belly through a door she was almost twice as wide as, the snow-furred vulpine sealed up her room and laid down without pulling up the covers.

Lying on her side, lovingly rubbing her belly, the smuggler let her gurgling middle lull her to sleep. Hopefully the shipment was properly padded, it probably was properly padded; she certainly ate enough. Enough to want to avoid hitting those same stops again in the near future if she could help it. Granted, she was more likely to be blackballed from these places then turned in to the police, such was the beautiful absurdity of her powers. In any case, tomorrow would certainly tell the tale well enough...

The next morning the mattress and metal bed frame groaned as its occupant shifted her weight into an upright position. Yawning, the vixen slowly pulled herself up out of bed and slowly lumbered towards the mirror. Admiring herself with a grin, she estimated her body to be twice as wide as the mirror. Her pear-shaped figure flared out from a stocky upper torso to an elephantine pair of hips and a large, pregnant belly that resembled an over stuffed mattress. Nervously she prodded her fat gut, feeling a swell of relief as her fingers picked out three separate mouse-shaped lumps. Her prisoners stirred and kicked slightly in reply to her probing. Yes, they'll survive until the drop off, assuming their squirming didn't make her want to murder them before then.

Turning around to survey the damage to the rest of her figure, the vulpine belly smuggler bent over and mooned her reflection. Black lacy panties scrunched in-between two gigantic round orbs that jiggled slightly as she turned to look over her shoulder and admire the view. No arguing that the rest of her gorging had digested marvelously...

Getting washed and dressed, she checked out of the motel and made her way back to her car. Waddling back, she felt the eyes of the morning clerk watch her rump cheeks playfully bounce inside tight denim jeans. Smirking, she slowed her pace slightly and made sure to put on a good show getting into her car before driving off. One never should disappoint their audience...

Much like Barge herself, Pennsylvania was much wider then it was tall. To head from the eastern to western sides of the state took almost twice as long as it did to go from north to south. Driving through Happy Valley and heading southward before going west once again, it was almost time for dinner when she arrived in Pittsburgh. Lunch was typical, a trio of combo meals and a sundae at a fastfood restaurant, but it was still several hours ago. The vixen couldn't wait to unload and be done with this run, maybe sink the payment from this job into some technotoys for her car like the superheroes always had in the comics. She didn't want much, just a computer smart enough to drive the car for her in the middle of rush hour traffic and a remodeled passenger cabin so she could carry some really big cargos in her lovely little tummy. Nothing too outrageous like invisibility or an engine that could go at the speed of sound, just some subtle little tricks for making her ride smoother and subtler. The fox shook her head and focused back on the road, still had a drop off to make.

The meeting place was fairly typical of the kind of drops Barge made in her line of work. A seedy riverside marina that had seen better days, the pleasure craft long gone and the docks in danger of collapsing under weights much lesser then hers. Pull into the empty parking lot; she waited until a midnight black sedan pulled in. Three males stepped out, all wearing nice two-piece suits and rose carnations, the sign of the Malchette mafia. The lead footman smiled. "Do you have the package?" He asked calmly, the equine's voice carrying a soft, barely noticeable Italian accent.

"I'll have it in a minute, I just need to go back to my car first. Not everyone is comfortable with how I handle freight."

"All three of us have heard how you 'handle' deliveries. You can release them now." The tall, well-dressed stallion replied curtly.

"Alright..." She smiled. "Don't say I didn't give you the chance to look away." The vixen chortled and gripped her stomach tightly. Her face fixed in a look of nausea as the smuggler gagged and with a hearty retch vomited up her surviving contents. One, two, three, three Russian mice sold to work in an Italian-American brothel. Sure enough, her clients started to look a little pale after the display, seeing the trio of rodents slick with saliva and half-digested gunk.

"Three, as promised. Now where is my money?" Barge asked as she gasped for air.

One positive that always came out of this trick was that no matter how well armed the other party was, seeing her regurgitate "lunch" rattled them enough to not think about double-crossing her. The lead enforcer head out his hand to his colleague and the vixen was presented with a suitcase full of hundred dollar bills. Inspecting the payment and checking the heft of the case, Barge nodded and thanked the three Italians.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you, we will have to do this again sometime."

"Yes... of course... you wouldn't happen to have any towels to wipe off the merchandise with wouldn't you?"

Barge merely smiled, it really was always a pleasure doing business