Cravings
In his section of a European resort, the otter was lucky to have such an excellent source of food; a huge variety of fish, amphibians, and even the occasional bird. This was thanks to his location; a man-made canal, separating the ocean with a large stone barrier; the fish and other amphibian creatures making their way back and forth through a pipeline deep underwater. His favorite prey is the fish though; easy to catch, easy to swallow, and they remain alive and wriggling inside his stomach the longest. Quite unique to his fellow otters, he would swallow his meals whole; adoring the sensations his wriggling prey would provide, but also the incredible feeling of having his gut feel so heavy and full.
But recently, food is scarce. There is enough to keep him going, even if he isn't getting the satisfactory fill he wants, but it has taken toll on his energy; the otter primarily spending most of his time dozing on a rock. Concern increases when he goes a whole day without any food. Are the humans taking it?
A week passes, and his meals are still small; a fish a day, at the most, and maybe some crabs if they happen to be about. It just doesn't make sense... until he discovered the issue: a blockage. He approached the pipeline one day and found some debris caught inside; a mass of which no one of his size could have attempted to remove. That settles it: he knows he has to leave.
A dismal otter swims his final length of the canal, reaching the stone wall, not even bothering to look at the depressing blockage that ruined his home, nor assessing his home for fish - what will have changed today? He climbs atop a rock, scoots up, and gazes across the top of the barrier into the endless horizon of the ocean. He takes a final look at his home, eyeing the tourists passing by; the gloomy, overcast clouds casting an appropriate dismal light on the dark water. But despite the cold weather, the otter spots an older human by the edge of the canal, sitting on their pop-up chair as they arere... fishing?
The otter is not surprised by the human's ignorance - this had been a good spot for fishing, even though those hooks were a threat. Even though fishing in the canal is not allowed, people defied the rules all the time. He thinks he recognizes this human: they came down once a month or so, though didn't fish for too long, possibly to avoid getting caught. Perhaps they are unaware of the blockage. He feels sorry for them, but he soon returns his focus to the present, not wanting to be reminded about--
"Finally - got one!" the human shouts in their gentle Norwegian tone; soon realizing that mistake, looking about quickly, and secretly storing the fish in the black bucket beside them.
The otter's eyes widen. Chirping in surprise, he quickly dives back into the water; suddenly spotting another lone, albeit very small, bleak fish. But it's something! He rushes over, his body propelling itself quickly to steer its way down, not even bothering to grab the fish and simply engulfing the thing whole into his jaws; swallowing it down easily. It feels so good to be eating again; to feel even one fish flapping around in his stomach, even if it doesn't create the satisfactory bulge he likes.
It is then that he realises just how hungry he is, the otter voraciously searching the bottom of the canal-bed, soon spotting a school of mackerel swimming back and forth in a large group. He propels himself back down, grabbing two in his paws, the other fish darting away as he stuffs one of them into his maw. A little bigger of a prey, and without some practice, he almost gags as he shoves it into the back of his throat, having to thrust himself forward to let the fish slide down his gullet; gulping hard as it writhes in an attempt to free itself in the drier throat. The huge lump is finally sent down, the other fish he intended to eat having escaped in his struggle to consume; the otter surfacing to take some air. As he submerges, he looks down at his furry stomach, noticing the pleasant lump of the mackerel as it struggles inside, causing his gut to shudder and bounce.
But one morsel isn't enough. Need he remind himself it has been days without a good meal - he is going to get his fill. He identifies the school of fish once again, darting towards them and grabbing a slightly larger specimen which he engulfs, gulping hard, the size difference not too significant to make it any harder than last time; his hunger bypassing some of the strain his throat was facing. Another huge swallow sends it down, and he feels it plop into the other mackerel bobbing around in his belly, soon finding another bump that sloshes his stomach about, much to his amusement; the activity increases quite significantly as he feels them struggle about. Their weight is hardly impressive, but he can already feel his prey begin to to take a toll on his own heaviness, the fish adding a few pounds onto the otter; emphasized even more as they swam about inside, throwing off his composure at times with sharp 'kicks' into his stomach wall.
Mackerel aren't particularly that interesting in size nor taste, though he gathers two more, getting them down quite easily one after another, his belly twice its original size and a mass of wriggling; and certainly also a lot heavier than before. At times, he desired to swallow other things also; crabs, clams and other crustaceans, just for a change. What's more, they were a pleasant fill, and created unique bumps in his gut that he could rub over, and he would love the feeling of them as they crawled around with their spindly legs.
Belly swaying as he approaches, the otter swims towards the barrier once more, noticing the hole, as he had suspected, was clear. The crustaceans that linger there have returned, and he interrupts them, grabbing a handful and shoving them individually into his jaws, making sure he swallows them fast to avoid them realizing their situation; reacting with their pincers, which he had experienced a few times before he learned how to deal with them. One by one, the slimy crabs are swallowed; only a couple big enough to cause some issues in his gullet, and yet he gets them down just fine. He pauses to experience the sensation in his gut, rubbing his paws over it, spotting a few smaller bulges where the crabs were now sunk at the bottom and crawling about their dark home.
Clams? They consider trying them, though the last time he had done so he had almost choked. Why not - it was a special occasion! He scoops up a few, eyeing them cautiously, putting a smaller one inside his jaw and quickly gulping it back. It is tougher to swallow than the crabs, for they at least have less rigid solidity, but he gets it down, and soon it is felt being thrown about by the rest of his prey that continue to writhe inside him. He takes another - gulp. Another - gulp. Another... gluck... gulp! The last one was a little too big, in retrospect, though his cravings are taking over such reasoning. The feeling is fantastic, though; he will certainly be trying them again in the future, but somehow make them easier to get down. Neither crustaceans added much size nor mass, but they certainly create a wonderful sensation and effect in his belly, for the otter can see the largest one bulging out at the top of his belly, bumping up and down as a result of the fish interacting with it.
Briefly concerned with his appetite's potential, he is soon distracted by another school, only this time of some petite herring; perhaps only 8 inches each. He quickly surfaces, taking some air, imagining the delightful sensations their combined squirming will create, and is soon diving back down, bloated belly swaying as he swims at them jaws-wide; engulfing a couple and swallowing them down easily, grabbing a handful and gulping them down too, his gullet intermittently bulging as couples were sent down like clockwork. Soon, the entire school, amidst their confusion at their vanishing friends, are defeated; the otter having swallowed them all.
He grunts as he stops to enjoy his fill, starting to feel some discomfort with just how stuffed his stomach is, and finding it all the more difficult to swim with such a heavy load sag beneath him. He looks at it, the furry brown belly is now almost ball-like in shape, albeit the shifting mounds that continuously thump against their cage. As he swims around, the large mound below him is throwing off his swimming ability, making it a strenuous task to search the canal for more critters, and so he stops to resurface for a while, finding it more effort to remain afloat as he gathers oxygen, kicking repeatedly as his head bobs below the surface. He can tell his limit has been reached, but his belly demands a greater fill.
One more? One more. The otter is almost done, but he wants to end with something big; something to top it all off. He spots it, slowly snooping around the canal-bed; a lone wolf fish, and one just a little off his own length. Perfect. He wants to sneak up on the creature, but his current passengers aren't allowing it, causing him to awkwardly approach the fish in an unpredictable path as they writhe and jolt around inside him. This ends up benefiting him, for soon he lands on top of the poor fish, it squirming eagerly in an attempt to escape. The otter halts this chance, grabbing it by the 'neck', fixing its jaw in place and shoving the writhing head into his jaws. He slowly lifts himself off the long creature, thrusting his body against it to wedge it inside, feeling it hit the back of his throat. He starts swallowing, feeling the scaly length jiggling inside his mouth, cheeks bulging hugely, his meal putting up a great fight. He takes no mercy, grabbing the rest of it, slurping and gulping as more of it enters his muzzle, feeling it start to bulge out his neck. Gulp after gulp, more of his meal is sent down, and in moments it is already halfway, still rather active in its struggle, the otter very much relishing the experience of such an intense commotion going on inside him. As he reaches the tail, he grunts, shoving the rest inside, tilts his head back and swallows continuously, watching the rest of it disappear until he slurps the rest of them into his flat muzzle. In combination with the mass of bulges in his belly, his throat and chest are risen as his meal slithers through, still fighting away until he can feel its head bump his stomach wall; the rest almost instantly pulled inside the organ with a big swallow.
The otter chirps in pleasure, watching the long fish make its way round his stomach, its thick form creating a soft tube-like lump as it squirms about with the other fish. Now, although feeling quite sickly on top of his satisfaction, the otter begins to resurface towards the dim sky refracted above him. An attempt to swim upwards is met with resistance from his weight, his movement reduced to a mere bounce from the sandy floor. He yelps, attempting again, finding himself back on the floor. The otter is beginning to panic, squirming in his anchored position. How on earth is he going to get back up? He failed to consider what the extra addition to his stomach might do, and now he was paying the price. Amidst his alarm, the otter quite literally rolls on his belly onto his feet, soon realizing it was his ticket back up. He rolls again, back and forth, a breath of air escaping from his lips before he finally lands firmly on his feet, using the momentum of his ball-belly to help propel him upwards, the otter squirming intensely as he rose slowly back up to the surface; the effort taking all the energy he can muster as he carries the swollen mass up to the surface.
The fight hasn't ended, however. Suddenly, the wolf fish jerks violently, thrashing into the walls of the otter's belly, throwing his swimming off. Still rising at a dreadfully slow pace, he thrashes around in the water, twirling clumsily until he finally breaks the surface, just as he can feel his vision start fading. He spots a rock by the wall, grunting as he submerges slightly, making sure not to go too far down as he heads towards it, his gut bouncing as it sags tremendously below him; the otter actively having to ensure he was swimming upwards to prevent it from dragging him into the abyss once again, especially with the huge wolf fish continuing its barrage against his stomach. Finally, he grips the rock with his stubby paws, pulling as hard as he can to raise himself to the top, but to no avail. He whines, panting hard, unsure of what to do - he has certainly overdone it this time round.
In the distance, he spots a small sandbank, perhaps ten feet away, and he realizes this will literally be his only chance. He stops to catch his breath briefly, then continues on, kicking off the rock with as much thrust as he can muster, kicking down to keep his head above the water, his neck beginning to ache with the position he must hold it to allow his intake of oxygen. Two thirds of the way, he can feel his vision beginning to blur again, the huge strain of holding not only his own weight but something almost twice his own size draining his energy fast. He is only awoken by his head submerging, the otter quickly wrenching himself from the depths once again, spluttering and coughing. The sandbank! He was so relieved to approach it, his huge gut bumping into the slope that gradually forms it, its only current benefit being the anchor to secure his place.
He stops to catch his breath, coughing out the remains of the water he had accidentally taken into his lungs, and he breathes deeply to gain back the oxygen he desperately needs. The otter whines as bobbles atop the sand, bloated belly bumping up and down until he manages to finally squirm his way a safe distance from the water. As he secures his spot, he rocks back and forth, finally rolling onto his back after a few attempts, the otter lying there limp as the large, bulging gut squirms and jiggles atop him; the outline of the wolf fish still quite visible, though its behavior has seemingly lessened, frustratingly after his near-death experience in the waters of the canal.
With no ability to even get his stubby paws and arms halfway up the belly, he settles with rubbing its squirmy sides instead. After a while of this, he reflects upon the mound above him; the otter pleased by just how huge he's been able to get - a definite new record. Appropriately for such a day, the otter feels the sun beam down as it breaks through the clouds, spreading its rays over his soggy fur, coating the belly in a blanket of warmth; particularly beneficial at such a time in the day when the sun is up high, its heat aiding his digestion by slowing the fish down as they grow too hot to continue their struggling. Their fat will certainly add to his large body, though he will lose the rest and use their protein for his muscles. However, as he looks at the jiggling mound atop him, he considers such a process may take a little more time than usual.