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Octummber 1st: Breakfast

Rouge was late. She had finally found her way to the Master Emerald upon its shrine on Angel Island, but at 5:30 in the morning, she had precious little time before the sun would crest the horizon. The night sky overhead was already brightening.

The secret agent, by her late 20s, had become the most respected covert operative in G.U.N.--that is, to those who knew her at all. And success presented itself thick on her waistline, with plump sides and a chubby layer of adipose over her abs. But despite her healthy middle, she maintained an hourglass figure, with a protruding rack nearly as wide as her shoulders and hips even wider. Her rump had two quivering globes, supported proudly atop fleshy thighs that tapered into rounded calves. Her short tail poked outward over her ass, cute and straight. This morning, her curves were all concealed under a skin-tight suit in black. Her breasty neckline and her white-furred head were the only bare parts on her, and her large ears were on alert for the slightest sound.

She stood atop a stone altar, a circular shrine that held up the Master Emerald in its center. It was a magnificent green gemstone, round cut, that came up to Rouge's hips. She knelt, took a portable laser drill, and cut into it.

Her current mission was to retrieve a portion of the Master Emerald for study. If just a tiny shard went missing, no one would be the wiser. And so, she began etching a small curve using the drill. She carefully made a shallow cut into the oversized gem and sliced off a long, slender shard. It fell into her hand as easy as could be. She pocketed the shard in her vast cleavage.

It seemed like she was home free when the emerald issued an ominous rumble. And then, with a sudden, shrieking explosion, the Master Emerald burst apart in every direction. Rouge ducked behind the altar as green shards flew violently from the site.

She wasn't sure why the Master Emerald had shattered, but she knew what would come next. Angel Island would sink to the ocean below. With the ground already rumbling under her feet, she bolted from the altar--thick thighs chafing, bubble butt bobbing, big boobs bouncing, and chunky gut shaking--and flew towards the nascent dawn.

Her flight home over the sea was long but pleasant. Her wings felt stronger. They kept her aloft with ease, despite her chubby weight. She flew to Station Square. Over the water, she first saw its clustered skyscrapers on the horizon. As she got closer, she could make out its shipyards, already busy with the day's work.

She landed on a pier and walked inland. Her stride was wide, with broad hips cast side to side and meaty thighs that rubbed together and juggled her behind. She planned to head home and rest, but her stomach growled pitifully. She clutched its pillowy girth. It felt much emptier on the inside than on the outside. Her favorite diner was nearby...

She sat back in the booth, finally satisfied. She had gone through five glasses of whole milk, six pancakes, just as many eggs, and... some other things that she had ordered, eaten, and forgotten. She now nurtured a food baby that made her look a few months pregnant. Her skin-tight suit had mercifully split down her sides. Her waist bubbled through the sundered seams at her sides, showing fuzzy rolls of flab. Her distended gut felt like a rock. She couldn't see it past her gratuitous chest, but she could feel it with her hands. She parted her chunky thighs wide to give her bloat more room. It jut out, taut and round.

She rose with her check in hand to pay. Her stuffed gut groaned. She put one hand underneath to cradle it; she wrapped her fingers underneath its pregnant curve to ease its pressure. She had planned on walking home, but now, taking a cab sounded pretty good.

* * * * *

Octummber 2nd: Harvest

Knuckles wandered the farmers' market. On a sunny day with clear blue skies, he walked past stalls of fresh produce. His blue jeans swished from his brisk stride, and his tan buckskin jacket parted to show his broad, firm chest. His brilliant red dreadlocks flowed behind him.

He was here to find the Master Emerald. Now 30, he had been its guardian for as long as he could remember. Yesterday, someone had stolen it just before daybreak. There was no clue as to its whereabouts. But, as its guardian, he had a supernatural ace up his sleeve. He possessed an instinctual inner radar that could locate the gem, no matter how far away, and lead him to it.

He felt its presence grow stronger and stronger. Finally, he found himself in front of a stall of watermelons.

The storefront was a wooden crate of large watermelons, ripe and glistening. A nearby rabbit noticed his pause and greeted him. "Howdy! I see you noticed I got the biggest melons aray-ound."

Knuckles turned from the bin to the rabbit. She had sleek gray fur with long, slouching ears, and she wore overalls pulled taut over her broad hips. A bit of belly pudge escaped its sides. But, most of all, he was floored by her breasts: two large orbs that pressed on the top of her overalls and pursed around its shoulder straps.

Knuckles gulped. "Yeah, I can see that," he said.

"Wanna hold one? They're purdy heavy, but you look like a strong feller," she said. She wrapped her thumbs under her shoulder straps and tugged them, bouncing her generous jugs. Knuckles feared, or maybe hoped, that they would flop right out of her overalls.

"I don't know--" Knuckles said.

But before he knew it, she had put a watermelon in his hands. It was wider than his shoulders, and heavy, too.

"Oh, hehe. Yeah, you're right." He enjoyed her company, but there was a task at hand. He could feel it. A shard of the Master Emerald had been here, but now it was gone. That could mean... "Have you sold any watermelons today?"

"Yeah! Plenty. Go ask the gator over there if you like, she's been workin' on hers for some time now." The rabbit raised her arm to point forward, jostling her breasts so that they quaked side to side.

Knuckles followed her finger to a group of picnic tables set aside from the market. Most of them were occupied by normal folk enjoying the nice day. But one person in particular stuck out: an alligator with her face jammed into a watermelon half.

"Thanks," Knuckles said before heading over.

The alligator wore a shirt with a bare midriff and jean short shorts. Her body was wide, with hips that smothered half of the picnic bench under her. Her thighs bunched into rolls where they billowed out of her shorts, leading down to chunky calves and plump feet. Knuckles noticed the way her toes dwarfed her sandals. Her stomach was corpulent, too, and it pressed into the table. Her bare, yellowy belly scales slumped against it. Her breasts, by any normal measure, would be enormous; but, sitting on her blubbery gut, they looked tame.

Knuckles approached her side. From there, he could see her backside hang off the back of the bench, and her thick, plush tail hung heavy and lazy. She withdrew her snout from the watermelon, dripping with juice. Her cheeks bulged outward, while her chin was padded with plenty of fat under her long mandible. Out of nowhere, she yelped, "HIC-uhp!" He could feel the Master Emerald emanating directly from her watermelon.

Knuckles asked, "Hey, is that a good one?"

The alligator nodded sluggishly. "Uh-huh. A little too--hhhIC!--good." When she hiccuped, her whole body leapt upward, launching her breasts up before they plopped back down on her bloated belly. "I can't find the bottom. No matter how much I--HICup--put back, it just seems to go on forever." Her belly gurgled.

This definitely sounded fishy. The work of the Master Emerald, perhaps? "Could I take a look?"

She patted her belly, gorged on magical watermelon. "Maybe. If you could do an itty bitty favor for me, first." She swung her legs around. As she pivoted, her bloated belly scraped against the table. Then, she leaned with her back against the table, letting her paunch slouch outward with no obstruction. "I've got a tummy ache somethin' fierce after all that watermelon..."

Knuckles considered his options. He didn't want to cause a stir if he didn't have to. And besides, that watermelon wasn't going anywhere. Really, he told himself, his choice had nothing to do with the bloated allure of her midsection. He rolled up his sleeves and stepped before the alligator's rotund stomach.

He worked his hands up and down over its breadth. Her doughy scales rolled under his grip, but he could feel that under layers of lard she had a stiff, stuffed gut. She moaned as he pressed gently into her pudge. He ran his fingers over the protruding dome of her upper belly, through the creases folded over her fattened waist, and into the puffy cavern of her pudge-lined navel.

All too quickly, she spoke. "Alright, (yawwwn), you better quit 'fore I get to sleeping," she said drowsily.

Not without the Emerald, he thought. While she basked in post-massage afterglow, he moved to the table. Decisively, he punched a fist directly into the watermelon's meat. He reached around and found something hard. He pulled it out to find just what he expected, a shard of the Master Emerald.

It was long but slender. "If they're all this size," he said to himself, "this could take a while."

"Hey!" the alligator shouted. As she flapped her jaws angrily, her cheeks bounced and chin rippled. "What was that about--HIC-UP!--size?!"

* * * * *

Octummber 3rd: Sweets

In the dead of night, under cover of darkness, Rouge entered the back entrance of Lucky's Loot. Unfortunately, its name was tongue-in-cheek: this was just a neighborhood candy shop. On the plus side, that meant security was light. She'd hacked past its flimsy security system with ease.

While Knuckles followed his instincts to find pieces of the Master Emerald, Rouge already had her own shard of the Master Emerald. It pulled her to this location, where she just knew she'd find another fragment. She was under orders from the President to retrieve the other pieces.

And that wasn't the only thing it had pulled her towards. The shard had inspired within her a tremendous hunger. In just two days, she had packed on 14 pounds. By now, she couldn't jam her extra booty into her catsuit. And so, here she was in black sweat pants that hugged her rump and dug in with a wedgie. Her belly bulged above the waistband, showing a sliver of her soft, peach-furred paunch. Its spare tire poked out under an ill-fitting black sweater. Her breasts pulled the sweater thin, making them hefty sweater puppies.

She held her shard in her hand. Now inside Lucky's Loot, the gem pulled her towards a door marked "EMPLOYEES ONLY." But her stomach pulled her elsewhere.

Along the wall was a series of bins full of candy. Licking her lips, she approached the candy corn. She had snuck in without a sign. Surely, no one would notice if she just had a taste. So, she dug her hand in and dredged up a handful of candy corn. On the way up, excess pieces spilled out of her hand like sand. She parted her juicy lips and threw the candy down the hatch immediately.

Candy corn's strange, bittersweet flavor had always been alluring, and this handful was no exception. But it went down far too quickly. On the other hand, there was plenty here. She scooped up another handful, and another, and another. Little sugary cones packed her cheeks and poked against them, like she'd crammed a durian into her mouth whole. She crunched through the dense mouthful and gulped it down.

She was suddenly smitten with sweets. She smacked her round lips, eager to continue. Next, she clutched a handful of gummy worms. They flopped in her grip, and then, they squished in her jaws. She grabbed enough to pack her mouth again, and her tongue swam with hyper-saccharine flavor while her teeth shredded their rubbery bodies.

While she continually piled more in, the worms' volume contributed to her belly. Its flabby exterior pushed further out an inch or two, causing her sweater to ride up just past her cushy belly button.

Next came a bin of small caramel chews. She mashed as much into her mouth as she could, and the sugary taste was heavenly. However, their dense toughness posed more of a challenge, and she had to force through with long, slogging chews to mash it all down. That didn't keep her from overfilling her mouth a few more times, though. Each heavy swallow pumped just a little more into her belly. Its surface was losing its pudgy texture as it bloated further, and her sweater inched higher up her expanding abdomen.

By now, she was getting thirsty. Luckily, Boo-hoo, her favorite chocolate-esque drink, was on the shelf behind her. She picked up a 16 ounce bottle, flicked the cap off, and threw it back. She chugged that bottle like she hadn't seen water in two weeks. She put the empty bottle back on the shelf and pounded down one more, glug-glug-glug, then one more, glug, glug, glug, then one more, glug... glug... gulp. With 64 ounces down the hatch, she hiccupped, wet and heavy. This was a lot to take in.

Her middle agreed. She ran her hand up and down her gut, which had distended even tighter. She pressed her fingers inward, and its formerly doughy squeeze was now replaced by a stiff, tense squish, like a stress ball. And of course, her sweater had risen even higher.

She had enjoyed herself, but she realized that now would be a good time to make her exit. She waddled to the back room. Her step wavered beneath her newfound pounds, sloshing her stuffed gut. The emerald shard was just sitting out on a table with some paperwork and junk. Clearly, these people did not realize the treasure they had found. She pocketed it and left.

On her way back out, one more bin caught her eye. This one was full of chocolate truffles. She was almost full, but... she couldn't help herself. She bent over the bin, resting her enormous knockers on the rim and letting her heavy belly hang from her waist. She shoveled handful after handful into her puffy cheeks and scarfed them down with abandon. Occasional pieces would land on her sweater-straining rack, and she would dip her head to lap up those as well. Her gullet ran thick with luscious chocolate. In the massacre of mastication, smears of chocolate coated her lips, replacing her shining pink lipstick with dull, fattening chocolate. She could feel her stomach swell out, she could feel its taut ballooning, and that was simply part of the fun.

But, soon enough, her belly snarled in pain. No more, it demanded. She put her hands to the bin and pushed off of it to lean upright--not an easy feat when you're lugging an entire candy store in your middle. Her stomach was now bulbous and tight, decorated with long, pink stretch marks. Her sweater had given up on covering her middle at all, and it now fancied itself a crop top.

She snagged a few bags of candy for the road and waddled to her escape.

* * * * *

Octummber 4th: Thief

"I'm not your thief," Knuckles said, frustrated. He was at a police station, sitting in a tiny room with a lumpy bulldog detective.

Earlier this morning, he had arrived at a candy store called Lucky's Loot, hot on the trail of the Master Emerald. But, when he arrived, the police accosted him and brought him in for questioning.

So, here he was, responding to their inquiries. The bulldog questioning him wore khakis and a polo. Her wide rump overflowed the chair under her, while her thighs splayed wide and puffy over it. She opened her legs and leaned forward, so that her gelatinous leg chonk flopped off the chair and dangled. Her hefty belly rolled into the new gap between her legs. Its pudgy lower roll plopped down and peeked out under her shirt. Above, the top of her shirt was unbottoned, and as she leaned forward, Knuckles could make out shallow cleavage over a sprawling belly.

She asked, "Then how did you come into possession of that green crystal?" Her loose jowls flapped as she barked at him.

He held a fragment of the Master Emerald. "I already had this when I got here." His voice was gruff and impatient. "I didn't steal it."

She snarled at him, but not while baring her teeth. No, it was her stomach, growling angry and loud. She put a paw to it and kneaded its doughy density. "Then who did you get it from?"

Knuckles sighed. "I got this gemstone two days ago. Someone at a farmer's market had it. It has nothing to do with whatever went missing at your candy shop."

The detective's stomach crooned now, a pitiful howl. "I'm getting pretty peckish here, pal. But. I can't get lunch until we're through with you. So. I'm gonna let my partner speak with you, and if you don't tell her anything," and here she lowered her voice, "let's just say you won't like me when I'm hungry."

She got up and stomped out of the room, wagging her rotund butt and stubby tail with her thick gait. Another detective entered, this one a doberman, and closed the door.

She put her hand on a nearby table and grunted as she lowered towards the chair. When her plump ass landed, the chair groaned under her weight, and she heaved a sigh of relief. Her big, round belly jut over her lap, gurgling. She put her paws to it and rubbed. Her breasts were full and heavy, hanging over her gut like kettlebells of fat.

She stopped a minute to breathe before talking. She had flabby cheeks that looked even puffier as she huffed. "Look--urp--I'm here to help." She leaned back, giving her gut more room and exposing her pale brown underbelly. "But I need to--hic--start hearing the truth from you, first." She dug her paws under her stomach, fiddled with her pants button, and popped it open. "Phew," she sighed. Her belly relaxed further into her lap, altough it was still quite tight.

Knuckles calmed at the sight, although he was still stern. "I said everything I know to your partner. I can sense the Master Emerald, but I can't find where that missing piece has gone unless you let me go find it."

The starved bulldog popped her head back in the door. "We've recovered some surveillance camera footage from the store behind Lucky's. Turn on the TV, you'll wanna see this."

On the table beside the stuffed doberman was a TV. She flicked it on, and the bulldog stepped in. Knuckles sat between two noisy bellies: the bulldog's belly grumbling for food and the doberman's stomach gurgling from gluttony. They watched a dark, blurry video on the screen.

At first, it seemed like an empty night scene. Then, a figure stumbled into view. It was like a floating, peach-colored ball. Then, Knuckles realized: he was watching a bobbing belly. The figure wore black clothing except for their bloated middle, which bulged out of their clothing. He focused on that image. Two bulbous breasts in a black shirt rest on the belly. The figure also seemed to have generous hips in dark pants. They swayed left to right in a heavy gait. He could just barely make out a pair of wings on the figure, too, and their head--though masked--had unmistakably large, pointy ears. Could it be her...?

"That's definitely--gurp--not him," the doberman remarked.

"I know," the bulldog responded. "All this for nothing. I'm seriously hungry now." She pointed to Knuckles. "You better make yourself scarce before I get the hankering for a Knuckles sandwich."

* * * * *

Octummber 5th: Pear

Rouge stood in the window of a factory, many stories above the ground. This was one of Eggman's manufacturing plants, and Rouge had just absconded with a shard of the Master Emerald. He had been using it to power his machines. Hopefully he wouldn't miss it too much.

Rouge's plan was to climb down to make her escape. She couldn't hold the shard in one of her hands while scaling a wall. She had brought a satchel for carrying it, but that had been sliced off when she crossed a buzz saw. She considered her breasts. They were certainly large enough to snuggle the shard. But that wasn't the problem with their size. They had grown so much in the past few days that she felt like they would spill right out of the heart-shaped bust on her suit. They pursed around its edges, and their areolas were just barely visible. She didn't trust that her clothing could contain them, and if her copious boobs popped out, the shard could come free and fall below.

At least everything else fit in her suit, for now. She had put on 30 pounds since the Master Emerald shattered, an impossible rate of gain. Relatively little of that adipose had gone to her middle. It was true, her waist was softer now, and her belly measured a few inches thicker than before. But most of it seemed to go to her hips.

Rouge put a hand on her hip and thought. She'd always had thick, womanly hips, and the more weight she put on, the bigger they got. Her current suit stretched over them and her bubble butt, although it was past uncomfortably tight. Her thighs felt squeezed in. Even then, their pudge slumped into each other, smothering her inseam with doughy flesh and grazing her crotch.

In fact, they were just big enough. She took the shard and guided it between her upper legs, slotting it into place in the crease at the top of her right thigh. It felt good to slip something long and hard between her pudgy, jiggly legs.

She turned around and backed out of the window butt-first. Her big cheeks wobbled side to side as she crawled backwards over the window's rim. She dug one boot into the wall, then the next. After that, she pricked the wall with one hand's nails, then her other hand. Now she was suspended in the air, held up only by her grip on the wall. Despite her rapid gain, she hadn't lost her knack for wall climbing.

Now, her ass was literally hanging in the breeze.

She lowered her left leg along the wall, rubbing its abundant thigh against her right leg, then dug in again with her left boot. She lowered her right leg. This would be the test. She could feel the shard nestled between her legs, smothered by her thunder thighs. As her right leg moved down, it quivered ever so slightly as it scraped past her left leg. But, she had more than enough flesh to bury the shard and secure it with swaddling, pillowy pudge. She swung her right boot into the wall without a problem.

Rouge was relieved. She picked up her pace with confidence. As she lowered her left leg again, her broad hips tilted rightward. The shard remained in place, but her shifting legs rippled with replete adipose. Her ass bobbed to the right as well. It jiggled constantly; its hefty flesh bounced this way and that, packed with enough meat that it never stopped. And so, she extracted the Doctor's newfound battery, clutching it between her chunky thighs, throwing her ass left and right.

* * * * *

Octummber 6th: Labor

"Look, lady, that shard belongs to Angel Island. You have no right to withhold it."

Knuckles stood in the sitting room of an opulent mansion. A massive panther laid back on the chaise before him. For modesty, she wore a sheer white dress draped over her entire body. He had come around to her side because her belly rose higher than her head. Her legs were impossibly thick as well, stacked with rolls of lard that piled up and propped her belly higher. They also draped off the chaise, leading up to hips that were far too wide for the furniture under her. From there, her waist tapered inward, giving her flabby biceps room to rest on the chaise while her chubby forearms leaned on her heaping gut. Her breasts were also too wide for her chest, and their fat nestled into the pudge-swaddled seams where her bicep flab slumped into her upper waist.

She turned her head to Knuckles, smooshing her floppy cheek into the backrest. She spoke in a deep, husky voice, "I'm not withholding your precious little bauble. I have more than enough already." She raised her pudgy hand to show five digits, each adorned with a ring that had a large gem. The fat of her fingers plumped around each ring. "It's just... you will have to work for it." As she talked, she squished rolls of fat under her chin.

Knuckles could sense it. "It's under you, isn't it?"

"Well done. If you could help me up, you could just take the stone for yourself."

"I can do that," Knuckles said. He took her hand.

"No! No, you mustn't pull. You'll rip my poor arm right off. No, a woman of my stature needs proper support, from the back."

"Alright then," Knuckles grumbled.

He walked around to the back of the chaise and put one hand under her head and his other hand under her upper back. He supported her head from its back, cradling a swell of pudge that coated the lower back of her head, where it met her neck. His other hand dove as far under her upper back as it could. Her back was warm and soft, luxuriously inviting. He pushed up through her flab and lifted her up from the couch. He was especially grateful now for his super strength.

But he still couldn't see the shard of the Master Emerald under her.

So, he put one foot up on the chaise and stepped up into it, all while holding up the panther. She wasn't yet leaning upright, so he pushed more, but she didn't move.

She barked, "Hey! Careful there. You're squeezing my stomach into my legs. Push me to the edge first."

She was right. Propped up 45 degrees from the couch, her big, broad stomach was now compressed into her dense, massive thighs. Fat pressed to fat and had nowhere else to go, so long as her legs laid flat on the chaise.

So, Knuckles put his back to hers and started scooting her forward, away from the backrest. She was just a touch shorter than him, but she was far wider. So, he held his arms out to the sides and gripped her jiggling biceps, as if to create a dam that held her adipose from flooding back down to the seat below.

"YEOW!" she howled.

Knuckles looked down. His foot was on her long, plump tail. He stepped off. "Sorry," he said.

Knuckles kept pushing. Her pudgy little hindpaws, poking out of pillowy calves, poked over the edge of the chaise. He pushed further. Soon, her calves altogether cleared the edge. Her feet slammed to the floor, pushed down by their own weight and the weight borne on them from her belly. In fact, with her legs lowered, her gut had more room. It oozed forward, drawn by gravity to fall, and yanked her back forward. Her stomach plopped to the floor while her back leaned upright. Her waist wobbled for a few moments afterwards as the vibration from landing played through her adipose.

"There we go. Do you see it?" she asked.

"No, but it's close." Knuckles fingered her back folds quickly, flipping through them to check for anything there. Her lovehandles were certainly big enough to hide a piece of the Master Emerald, but they didn't.

While pushing her, her dress had lifted up to her butt. So, Knuckles ran his hand under the left globe of her rump. Each cheek was immense, big enough to serve as the back cushion on this chaise. Its blubber ran off the sides.

He lifted her left cheek, and the panther purred. "Ooh, do scratch, will you?"

Absent-mindedly, Knuckles complied. He tugged and shoved his hand under her protruding backside to scratch its underside. It quivered from his effort. Her tail slinked through the air slowly.

She moaned. "Alright, now do the other one."

With just as little thought, Knuckles moved to the other cheek. His hand was under a large store of lard, which formed creases around his hand as it weighed down onto his grip. His hand fumbled through ephemeral rolls, trying to scratch the full surface of her butt without pinching it.

But, as he navigated one of these fleeting folds, his fingers crossed something hard. He clutched it, pulled it out, and there it was: a long, green fragment of the Master Emerald.

Great! But, maybe he could scratch her just a little longer.

* * * * *

Octummber 7th: Popsicles

Now at 225 pounds, there was no denying it: Rouge was blimping up at an impossible rate. Luckily, she had tracked her next piece of the Master Emerald to the beach, where her bikini was suitable attire. Her belly bubbled past the waistband of her royal purple bikini bottom, teetering over it as an overfull muffin top. Hearty lovehandles puffed out over its backside, where it ran down between her protruding cheeks like a strand of floss. Its front mostly managed to hold her fupa, although her mound's edges peeked out beyond its cover. Her thick, wobbling thighs rolled her mons at the middle of her stride.

Her bottom was revealing, but her top was just plain insufficient. Copious sideboob billowed over its straps, and it offered little support for her growing knockers. They just pulled her top tight and dug it into her thickening back fat. Just about all it managed to do was hide her nipples and areolas.

At least the breeze felt nice in her light bat wings and her fuzzy bat ears.

She carried a tote bag with her to blend in. In it, she kept one of her emerald fragments, which led the way. She had tracked her next gem shard to one little cart on the boardwalk. This was a popsicle vendor selling icy treats on a hot day. A tubby penguin in swimming trunks ran the shop.

The shard was inside his cart. Somehow, she had to gain access to its contents without arousing suspicion. So, she approached and leaned her elbow on the cart, crossing her forearm under her breast to nudge it upward. She asked, "Hey there. If I ask real nice, will you let me pick my own popsicle?"

The penguin looked at her with a stern countenance. "No," he said simply.

Rouge could tell she wouldn't get anywhere with this guy. But, maybe she would get lucky and get it on her first try. "Alright then. Get me a lime one." She produced money from her tote to pay for it.

He reached into the cart's cooler and pulled out a bright green icy treat, wrapped in clear plastic, on a tongue depressor.

No luck... "Hey, get me another while you're at it."

The penguin gave her a suspicious look, furrowing his brow and squinting his eyes. "Why...?"

"Look, I just want another one, okay?"

He mulled it over. "Fine." And she bought a second lime popsicle.

Now she held two of them. "Actually, get me a third?"

The penguin scoffed. "I don't know what you're up to, but I don't like it."

Never was there a more difficult salesman. "Look, I'm just... really hot, okay? Just let me buy another off of you."

The penguin turned his head away.

This would be tough... "Look, I'll prove it to you, okay?" She unwrapped the first popsicle, sucked it off the stick, and swallowed it down. Then, she gulped down the second just as quickly. "See? Now get me another."

The penguin looked askance at her, slowly retrieved a third green popsicle, and exchanged it for her cash.

Rouge looked at the new popsicle in her hand. This could take a while.

She sucked down popsicle after popsicle. At first, it was easy; the things are mostly water, after all. She managed to eat the first 25 without thinking.

She walked up to the popsicle cart yet again. With each step, her wide hips cast side to side, swaying her belly. A liter and a half of melted popsicle stirred inside from her rolling gait, slish, slosh, slish, slosh.

"Another five--HIC!!--please," she said. Her breasts leapt from her sudden hiccup, then rocked from side to side on her waterlogged gut.

"What flavor?" the penguin asked.

Rouge scowled. "Lime. I only want lime. Get me five lime popsicles."

She produced more cash and clutched five more popsicles. She unwrapped them all, then jammed them into her mouth all at once. They stretched her mouth wide. She bit down with her teeth and pulled out the sticks clean. Now with a mouthful of ice, she crunched her teeth down through it all. Her lips were green, and her chewing was loud.

She pounded down the chewed-up ice and grunted, "gyah!" She bent her head down and held it in her hands.

"Ma'am?" the penguin asked.

Rouge looked up and shot him daggers with her eyes. "What, never seen an ice cream headache? In your line of work? Just get me five more, alright?"

And so she continued. After her 50th popsicle, she took a seat on a nearby bench. Her belly felt distended now, swollen with water and syrup. Her hands were sticky from her popsicle binge, and her fingertips left green splotches in her fur. Weary, she stroked her gut. The slight inward pressure of her touch eased her middle and popped out a petite burp, "blurp." Three liters is a lot for anyone to guzzle, let alone someone new to water bloats.

She looked up to the penguin from her seat. "Five, pant, more," she said.

The penguin frowned. "Alright," he said with hesitation.

After popsicle #75, Rouge felt flooded to the brim. She leaned backwards on the bench. Her belly was taut and jutting, and every breath she took rocked the body of water inside her like the ocean waves crashing against the beach behind her. Her entire gut pushed outwards to contain its inflated volume. She felt like a beach ball filled up with water and sugar.

"How many... left?" she asked weakly.

"Just one. Looks strange, though."

"Gimme," she demanded, holding up more cash. She was beached on the bench for now.

The penguin reached into his cart and took the last lime popsicle, then handed it over to Rouge.

Habitually, she unwrapped it and shoved it in her mouth. But suddenly, she realized it had no flavor. She took it back out and realized: she'd finally done it! Here was the piece of the Master Emerald that she'd been chasing.

She wanted to jump up and celebrate, but there was definitely no use trying to lift herself from the bench.

Instead, she moaned, "Mmm. You know, that last one really hit the--HI'CUP--spot." She patted her reliable gut, which rocked and sloshed in response.

* * * * *

Octummber 8th: Experiment

Knuckles wandered through a junkyard, following the signal of the Master Emerald. Debris crunched underfoot.

When suddenly, he heard a slam. He noticed a shack now that had simply blended in with a pile of garbage. And from that shack burst forth a purple bird on a floating board. Knuckles ducked as she zoomed overhead, blowing back his dreadlocks.

He looked towards its high-pitched whir and got a good look. This was someone riding an airboard, a floating board that surfed the air.

The rider was a purple bird in a white tube top and bell-bottom pants. Two long feathers streamed elegantly from her head as she cut through the air. Her face itself was chubby, with a healthy second chin and big cheeks that puffed around her beak. They flapped in the wind. This was Wave the Swallow, an old rival.

Her chest was full, with two round breasts. They remained stationary during her flight. Her top did well to secure them.

Which was to say nothing of her flabby gut. A chunky lump of lard bulged forward from her waist and rippled in the wind, bare. Wind coursed through its feathers and folds, caressing it thoroughly.

Her waist made way for prominent lovehandles that bubbled over and beyond her waistband. Those widened into prodigious hips--big, sweeping hips. As she crouched in her riding stance, she pushed her bulbous ass out behind her, letting her long, slender tail feathers flap in the wind. Each butt cheek was the size of a basketball. While her tail feathers trailed elegantly, built for cutting the air, her ass jostled awkwardly, laden with lard that was built for sitting in place. On the other hand, her billowing thighs and plump calves granted her a low center of gravity that improved her control on the board.

Knuckles could also feel the Master Emerald. It was coming right from the board. What if she was using its energy?

And then she took off, out of view. Knuckles cursed his inaction. But, before he had decided on his next move, she returned on her board with a grease-stained paper bag.

Shortly, she slowed down, descended, and approached her shack. She leapt off the board and grabbed it before going in.

Once inside, she took a seat in a ratty chair. Plopping her wide load in it made it squeak. Sitting, her chubby belly smooshed into folds. She grabbed a pulled pork sandwich from her bag. She bit down, and its gushy contents squished in her bright yellow beak. Sauce scattered onto her cheeks and beak. She sunk further into her chair with her tail feathers jutting out under her legs.

While Wave was distracted by her lunch, Knuckles walked up to her open shack. Its walls were lined with advanced tools and mind-boggling technology, all in a dump like this. He rapped his knuckles on the corrugated metal door and said, "Afternoon there."

Shocked, Wave blasted out hasty, belly-jiggling flatulence--"FRRAPF!"--and raised her head, beak dripping with sauce. "Yeah? What is it?" Nobody came out here, nobody.

"You've got a fragment of the Master Emerald there. I need that."

Wave turned back to her sandwich and tore a big bite. The damp sandwich squelched as she chewed it up in her beak, and her esophagus swallowed it with a wet, pronounced GRUNK. She licked her beak with a loud slurp to lap up any remaining sauce. "That sounds like your problem, not mine." She burped to punctuate her apathy, "nghURP."

"You know, without the Master Emerald, my homeland is grounded. Maybe that's something you can relate to."

Wave hesitated. She scowled. "You tell no one," she muttered.

Her airboard was on the floor next to her chair. She leaned over the side of her chair to reach her board, popping out a wet belch as she scrunched her blubbery middle. She fumbled around inside the board and leaned further, raising her right hip and uttering a high-pitched, squeaky fart. She finally snatched a long, green gem and fell back into her seat. Her hips and rump filled it out, and then some, deepening its disrepair.

She tossed the gem his way, and he caught it. "Now get outta my office!"

* * * * *

Octummber 9th: Monster

Rouge entered the restaurant in a sparkling black dress. A slit ran up the side of her leg, showing its quivering pudge as she strode through the dining hall. Her gait pumped her hefty ass cheeks more than usual due to her high heels. As a result, each cheek bounced up in the air as she thrust her broad leg back, only to crash back down with a heavy wobble as she swept the leg forward. Another slit ran down the front of her dress betwen her big, heaving breasts and over her chubby tummy. The openings in her dress were more than just stylish; they gave her burgeoning figure room to breathe.

Many patrons left their food alone. Instead of eating, they stared at twin doors that led back to the kitchen. Rouge could hear a commotion back there, with crashing pans and sudden shouts. When she drew close, a mouse chef fell out through the doors and landed on his back.

He looked up to Rouge. "Run!" he said.

Patrons nervously started to rise from their tables. But Rouge stepped into the kitchen, past fleeing cooks.

Inside was a mess. Dishes lay shattered on the floor under sauces and amidst half-prepared food. Overturned pots and glistening knives littered the counters. And in the back was the strangest monster Rouge had ever laid her eyes on.

The beast had an off-white hide and stood at just about her height. Its arms and legs grew thick towards their ends, and its hands had three long, lanky claws as their digits. Its head had a big, thick horn as well as two thick tendrils running down like hair.

It reminded her of something she'd seen in Professor Gerald's notes.

A strong garlic scent emanated from the creature. It stared her down while stepping towards her. Each footfall landed wet: plip, plop, plip, plop. It reared back its arm, then cast it forward, stretching it out towards Rouge.

She sidestepped it, but the creature swept its arm after her and clutched her neck. Its skin was mushy and malleable, like... well, like mashed potatoes.

She put her hand around its arm and tried to grab it, but her fingers just pressed into it. She hadn't grabbed the arm; the arm had swallowed her hand. The creature yanked back on its arm, pulling Rouge off her feet and throwing her to the ground. She landed with a thud, and her bare belly slapped against the tile floor of the kitchen. Her butt wobbled in the air.

The creature reeled its arm inward, dragging Rouge along the floor by her hand. She tensed her flabby bicep and pulled her hand to her mouth. She opened wide and bit down on the creature's arm. Her teeth severed its wrist, freeing her hand and confirming her suspicions. This was indeed a demon made of mashed potatoes. Buttery, salty, creamy, garlicky mashed potatoes. She swallowed and licked her lips.

She stood to her feet, now ready. The creature shot its arm at her again. In a flash like lightning, she raised her buxom leg, slicing off its arm with her pointed toe while her thunder thigh jiggled. Disconnected, but still bearing momentum, the arm splatted harmlessly against her. Well, almost harmlessly. She just had that dress dry cleaned.

She lapped up some that had hit her face, and she was enchanted by its taste. She would have to come back here when there wasn't an Eldritch demon composed of spuds trying to kill her.

It tried to grab her again, but now its arm was simply a nub. It had lost too much body. Down, but not out, it shot forward its other arm.

Rouge lowered her stance to catch its hand in her waiting maw. Delectable mashed potatoes spurted into her mouth. The creature tried to retract its arm, but Rouge sucked inward. She had it now.

Gallon after gallon of monster slid down her throat. She sucked without end, cramming her mouth, puffing out her cheeks, overloading her taste buds, and flooding her esophagus. She pumped her gullet thick with dense but creamy potatoes, and every last ounce filled her growing stomach.

While the monster struggled to reassert its stance, Rouge's gut swelled. It started the battle as a pudgy pooch poking out of her dress. Now inflating with a kitchen's worth of mashed potato, it gradually pushed open the front of the dress. Rouge gulped forcefully to keep up her momentum, and bare belly fur rounded outward like a water balloon on a hose. Mashed potato splattered against her cheeks and gushed into her mouth, and her throat vacuumed it all into her gluttonous gut, pulsing with every surge of potato that she pounded into it.

Her stomach felt heavier by the second, while the creature's form grew thinner and thinner. Her belly forced her dress open and sagged over the opening, pulled down by the incredible weight of her binge. As the creature thinned out, she could see her goal. A green, potato-splotched gem stuck out of its head.

She sucked and sucked. She grasped her gut in both hands. Its taut surface felt tender, and every hammering gulp made its distended volume throb. The monster thinned to a series of connected, mushy twigs while her belly blimped into a tight medicine ball.

The creature finally crumbled, splattering to the floor, unable to hold its form. Its jade jewel plopped into the remaining potatoes spilled across the tile. Rouge panted, catching her breath after a fierce, gut-stretching fight. Her heavy breasts rest on her heavier belly, trembling as she huffed. The widened opening in her dress revealed even more of her rack than when she had entered. She put her hands to her back and widened her stance to keep her balance, thrown off by the tremendous weight now occupying her middle. Her stomach groaned a gurgle of triumph over its culinary foe.

She was left with one last problem: how to bend over and pick up the shard of the Master Emerald with a nigh-bursting belly.

* * * * *

Octummber 10th: Teeth

Knuckles stood on the edge of a rocky cliff. Below, waves crashed against the jagged shore. He held a fragment of the Master Emerald in his hand.

"Finally found it," he said to himself. He turned around, and there she was.

Rouge stood before him in outgrown attire. She wore a scarlet halter top and leather pants, both tight on her widening frame. At nearly 250 pounds, she had a prominent gut, a rounded, gelatinous belly that was getting big enough to hang down over her pelvis a few centimeters. Her waist pushed the hem of her top up so that its bottom could bulge outward. Her breasts, meanwhile, pushed the neckline down, weighing heavily on it. They plumped over it, and the top squeezed them together into round orbs. Her pants fared about as well. They came halfway up her hips. Her haunches were too densely padded, and so the waistband had gotten stuck before completing its journey up Rouge's bulk. As a result, the top few inches of her bare waist pressed out over the waistband, and the top of her ass bubbled out in the breeze behind her. Those pants also hugged her thunderous thighs, both smooshed together by their breadth.

He tucked the shard in the inside pocket of his jacket. "I knew you were behind this," he said. Slowly, he stepped towards her. "Hand over what you stole."

"You think I'm behind this?" she asked. She walked towards him as well, and her luscious hips swayed side to side. As her hips danced, pudgy creases on each side of her waist deepened. "Then I'll show you what's behind me."

Knuckles took the first swipe at her with his big fist. Rouge spun, whipping her tits around as she dodged the punch, and launched her backside into Knuckles. Her big ass walloped his firm chest. Her massive rump commanded so much power in its heft that he went down like a sack of potatoes.

With the wind knocked out of him, Rouge descended onto Knuckles. She pinned his arms down in her hands, and her globular breasts bopped his muzzle. They felt heavy but soft against his face. Then, she lowered along his body, dragging her tits down from his face, along his chest, and onto his stomach. She flung open his jacket, spotted the Master Emerald fragment, and leaned down. She pressed her husky bosom into his lean stomach and nudged her face into the jacket before claiming the shard in her teeth. She leaned back up, and Knuckles saw what she'd done.

Her lusty bat's teeth had snatched the shard right out of his pocket. Her hungry teeth glistened, and her sharp canines secured the shard against her dull molars. Knuckles gazed into her mouth, past her parted lips, at two rows of teeth clamped firm around the long, hard rod.

When her teeth closed down on the shard, she tapped into an invisible essence. She felt power like she had never before. She ascended into the air on her bat's wings.

From the ground, Knuckles looked up at her, flapping her wings hard to stay aloft. With each wing flutter, her body bobbed up while her belly bobbed down, and her body fell as her belly jounced up. The delay in her belly's vertical sway emphasized just how juicy and thick its adipose had grown. And that was scarcely the thickest part of her. Her big breasts bounced up and down over her gut, surfing along its fatty wave. They barely fit in her top as it was, and the twin orbs of flesh threatened to flop right out of it. The only thing keeping them in was their immense weight, which limited how high they could hop. Even her face was lined with buoyant pudge, with two chunky cheeks that waved in time with her flaps. It was impressive to see her keep her ample heft airborne.

Rouge spun around in the air, and at that point, Knuckles really was looking at the thickest part of her. Her broad ass bopped up and down rhythmically, with heavy oscillations rippling across its large surface. Its adipose, big and curved, flopped up and down. Her ass cheeks were so plump that they seemed to slap against the air itself and rebound, jiggling and jostling in great waves of blubber.

And then, when Knuckles realized what was happening next, it was too late. She stopped flapping and let herself slam right onto his face, pummeling him in the jaw with her tremendous backside. Her ass struck him hard, and its fat quivered with such a shockwave that her pants split right down the middle, letting her bare ass slump out around his bare muzzle. Her thick legs shredded her pants at her inseam, too, and naked flab flooded out of her pants and against Knuckles. Her jiggling thighs felt especially tender, and they tickled against his jacket.

And, not that he could see or feel, but the downward thrust popped her tits right out of her top. Her stomach scrunched outward, too, forcing its hem up to her chest like it was just a bra. She fumbled with her neckline for a minute, trying to pull it up enough to at least hold her breasts in place and offer a modicum of support. She pressed her hand into their blubbery, curved tops, trying to squeeze her jugs back into a top a few sizes too small.

She succeeded and stood. She looked back to Knuckles, who was at least breathing, though dazed. And she took off, tattered clothes fluttering in the air.