Ray had been cooking up a storm for three-and-a-half days. It was the fourth of July, and he was ready to pig out. Things had been a bit rough when he first moved into his new house. He had suffered an unexpected breakup with his girlfriend of 2 years, he was working 12 hours a day at FastFoodPlace just to cover the costs of life, and the bank was already on his ass about the mortgage (not to mention his college debt). He had to sell all the things that brought joy to his old life — books, gaming consoles, sports equipment, et cetera — and borrow more money from his folks just to get by. It took him a painful while to get over the heartbreak and land a decent job. It took all the strength he had not to move back in with his parents and spend the year drinking, but he pulled it off. Now that he had his life sorted out, he thought it would be nice to celebrate. Hard. Since starting work at his new job, he had been setting aside a tiny bit of cash every week to buy nice things for the feast, and he had taken an entire week off to do all the shopping, cleaning, and cooking for it. Everyone on the block was invited, in addition to his extended family, coworkers, college buddies, and childhood friends. He was determined to impress them all, and was looking forward to catching up with all his old pals. It was about time he got to know his neighbors, too. Most of all, he could not wait to see the look on his parents’ faces when they saw his perfect lawn and walked through the tidy halls of his beloved home. It would be such a weight off their shoulders, knowing their son was financially and emotionally stable once again. When he took the last pizza out of the oven and laid it on the table alongside its 15 deliciously smoldering brethren, he had a full ten minutes to spare before the party started. He popped open a beer, nestled himself into one of his deck chairs, and admired the fruits of his labor. 

The scent of a hundred steaming dishes rose to his nose, bringing a flood of saliva to the wolf’s mouth. Melted cheese glistened in the sun atop pizzas and lasagnas, teasing him with its salty glow. The chocolate fountain sang its sweet song, splashing and burbling as it pumped its delectable contents round and round. Grapes. strawberries, blueberries, and melons of all sorts shone below the clear sky. Ripe and juicy, they practically screamed to be eaten. Droplets of cold water clung to the well-washed berries, bathing the entire yard in their refreshing aura. Fruit salad containing freshly-chopped pineapple, orange, pear, apple, and grapefruit filled the air with its sugary aroma. Freshly-baked bread and thick, cushy waffles released tempting vapors from their golden-brown bodies. Dozens of bowls containing various types of pasta waited in an orderly line, garnished with olive oil, butter, or tomato sauce. Potato chips, doritos, crackers, popcorn, and other dry snacks occupied an entire table; Ray knew you can never have too much of those. The desserts present included chocolate cake, cheesecake, red velvet, and angel food. Additional bottles of icing and whipped cream were positioned beside them in case the cake was not sweet enough for some madman’s palate. Green, yellow, and red Jell-O wobbled in the wind, begging Ray to suck it down his hungry throat. Gallons of iced cream waited in the freezer alongside packs of popsicles and freezies, to be taken out when the guests were ready to cool off.

Trays full of french fries of different thicknesses sat beside a great bin of onion rings. Sweet potato fries were also available, for those who would prefer a change of pace. Baked whole yams sat on a nearby platter, soft and squishy as could be desired. Sausages, veggie dogs, steaks, and burger patties formed towering stacks beside the grills — Ray had rented out more than one so the other guests wouldn’t have to wait in line for just the one. More than enough condiments were available, and numerous unopened bags of buns stood at the ready. Anything that could be put in a sandwich was to be found in ample amounts, accompanied by a commensurate quantity of bread. All sorts of salad adorned the tables, providing a healthy alternative (or supplement) to the greasier fried foods. A wide selection of dressings were provided, so nobody would be able to resist eating their greens. As if that were not convincing enough, a bowl of crispy croutons was stationed beside every salad. Even the robin sitting in the birdbath looked delicious to Ray, as if she were part of the buffet. When it comes to big backyards, you get out what you put in. Ray intended to make the best use of his property, and if the cookout went well, he would consider making it an annual event. Maybe someday, he would be able to buy a pool. Then, he would truly be the perfect host. His parties would be legendary.

All this food was backed up by an appropriate variety and amount of drink. Fruit juices of ordinary and exotic origin lined the tables. There was Kool-Aid for the kids, if any were to be brought along. Cold lemonade, sweetened and unsweetened, filled pitchers upon pitchers. Limeade and pink lemonade were there, too. A dozen different types of fruit punch sat in a row, showing off their deep color through shining glass bowls. Bottles of wine and liquor were to be found indoors, allowing the adult attendees to craft any concoction they could imagine. Coke, Pepsi, 7-Up, and every other popular soft drink resided in the coolers beneath the tables. Iced tea, both brand-name and home-brewed, was sure to quench the thirst of all who would partake. San Pellegrino and plain water would hydrate those who did not want something sweet. Beer, of course, filled multiple crates on its own. Naturally, all fluids were kept cool by ice, whether they sat in a cooler or on a table. 

It was 11:50 AM when dark clouds blocked out the sun. A fat raindrop struck his Ray in the snout, warning him of the coming tempest. He rushed to pull as much food as possible indoors before the full brunt of the storm reached his location. Calls and texts bombarded his phone — dozens of guests were canceling their plans by the minute, faced with flooded roads and fallen branches elsewhere in the city. Ray rushed to bring all the food inside; he soon ran out of space on the tables and had to start leaving dishes on chairs, coolers, and eventually, the floor. As soon as he brought the last of it inside and shut the grills, the torrential downpour reached his house. The sheer amount of rain limited his vision to a few yards beyond the window. He could no longer tell if it was day or night, owing to the sheer depth of the black mass above. He heard a loud CRACK a few houses away, and the power went out — a tree must have fallen on the cable. Ray could only see when lightning struck, which was about every 4 seconds. He had checked the weather forecast about a thousand times, and it had not given him the slightest indication of the storm to come. The party was dead, without a doubt. There was nothing left for him to do but grab a fork and start working on the massive surplus of food he had cooked. He sat alone in the dark, munching on an ungarnished waffle and feeling sorry for himself. All his preparations were wasted, and his high hopes for the afternoon were shattered. But he could still make the most of it. He was a hungry man with a houseful of food, and if solitude had created a void inside him, he could damn well fill it with snacks. He tore open a bag of doritos as big as his torso and started pouring them into his mouth, crunching them into crumbs as he basked in the cheesy, slightly-spicy flavor of the triangular chips. He washed it down with a pack of Kool-Aid, belched out an unrestrained HUOOOOOOORP, and browsed the buffet for his next course. He settled upon a mound of green Jell-O the size of his head. He opened his jaws wide and grabbed the jiggling mass at its base, lifting it off the plate and sucking the whole thing down his throat in one giant GULP. He heard it splash into his acids and felt it splatter against the bottom of his stomach. He grabbed the nearest pizza, folded it into a taco, and started tearing great chunks out of it. He ravenously swallowed each one with minimal chewing, eager to get its tender dough in his belly as fast as he could. Mangled scraps of cheese and crust piled up in his gut, falling apart as his sizzling acids soaked them through and melted them into slop. The taste of garlic and spicy pepperoni coated his mouth, and his throat was slick with a thick layer of oil and pesto. He tossed a sweet potato in the air, opened his maw under it, and let it plummet straight into his belly, where it landed with a resounding SPLOSH. He dug into a bowl of baked vegetables, stuffing an army of soft carrots, lightly-browned cauliflower, and puffy broccoli down his throat without a second thought. He grabbed an enormous bundle of crispy bacon in each hand and locked his slobbery lips around one. He chopped the meat into mince and forced it through his esophagus gluttonously, addicted to the growing weight of his tummy. When he was done with that, he wiped the grease off his face with his arm and chugged a cold beer. He shot the resulting gas from his mouth in a raunchy BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP, covering the table in flecks of fizz and spit. For dessert, he grabbed a creamsicle from the freezer and sucked the whole thing off its stick with a loud, hungry SCHLRP.

Before Ray could gobble up his next portion, he heard a knock on the door and snapped out of his greedy trance. Someone had made it, after all! He rushed to the front door and opened it with his tail wagging. It was his old pal Mike, a bright orange fox with a white underbelly. He had not seen him since middle school, and he had grown like a weed. Ray was a man of average proportions (maybe slightly on the stocky side), but Mike was half his width and two feet taller.

“Hey, Mike! It’s been an eternity, I can barely recognize you! Make yourself at home and eat as much as you want; nobody else showed up, so most of this food is probably gonna go to waste. You know I can pack a whole lotta fuel in the tank, but even I have my limits. Be careful where you sit though; there are plates everywhere.”

“Aw man, it smells delicious in here! When’d you learn to cook? And don’t worry about waste; my appetite’s grown an awful lot since we last spoke. Split between the two of us, a hundred meal’s worth of food is nothing at all. Hell, we could eat all the food in the world if we had to. I skipped breakfast so I could pig out here, so we should eat first and catch up later.”

“Amen to that, all this cooking and setting up has worked me up a nasty hunger. As you can see,” Ray said while patting his slightly-distended gut, “I’ve already started digging in, but a meal always tastes better with company.”

Mike slapped Ray’s potbelly just to hear it slosh, making the green wolf blush and look away. Mike chuckled at his bashfulness and picked up a bowl of cold fruit salad, starting with dessert like the greedy cunt he is. He poured the whole thing into his mouth in one go, eviscerating its succulent components to extract their sweet juices before condemning the resulting pulp to swift destruction in his stomach. He shredded a dozen salads to ribbons in his vicious jaws, compacting the loose leaves in his tight throat and further squashing them behind his lean abs. Plump cherry tomatoes burst between his teeth, gushing their delicious insides all over Mike’s tongue and palate. He went nuts when he found the burrito station, packing a fat wrap full of every available topping until it could hold no more and shoving it into his maw whole. His cheeks bulged out while he chewed it up, and its tattered remains formed a large bump on his throat when he finally gulped them down. Ray stuffed his face with lasagna while Mike bit into a stack of cold cuts, tearing the flavourful meat into smaller bits with infinite ease. They flowed smoothly down his throat, slithering down that slimy tunnel as if they wanted to be digested. He sucked entire lengths of spaghetti through his gullet without chewing or cutting, inhaling multiple basins full of pasta in the span of five minutes. Ray did likewise. The two men got into a burping contest; good belches were heard from both sides, but Mike clinched the victory with a house-shaking OUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP that Ray could not possibly compete with. He conceded defeat with a round of applause, visibly flustered by his old friend’s insatiable gluttony. Ray stuck his snout deep in a bucket of onion rings while Mike emptied out a pan of french fries, squirting ketchup and mustard directly into his mouth as he pounded the long chips into mush. He then grabbed a pot of well-steamed green beans, slurping up their tender bodies and swallowing them without so much as a nibble. After an hour had passed, Ray found himself unable to keep eating, struggling to finish a bag of goldfish crackers while Mike finished off his eleventh pizza. He was consuming everything he could reach, and struggled to drag his heavy gut over to where more food could be found. Ray brought him dish after dish, barely able to keep up with the pace at which he scarfed his food down. Before long, over half the trays were empty, and he showed no signs of stopping. His mountainous midsection gurgled and groaned as it broke his meal down, causing his host to blush awkwardly.

___________

By the time the boys were done, Ray’s paunch stuck fourteen inches out and Mike was completely immobile. The fox’s belly was as long as a car, and equally tall. Not a single scrap of food remained outside the fridge. It was all packed away in their tummies, quickly melting into sludge to fuel their brawny bodies. Mike was panting, exhausted from shoveling a ton of food into his formerly-flat gut. 

“Holy -huff- shit, Ray. That was the biggest and -huff- best meal I’ve ever had. I need -huff- more.”

“More!?” asked Ray in disbelief, astounded by the tall boy’s apparently limitless stomach capacity.

“Gimmie -huff- sausages,” said Mike without a hint of sarcasm.

“Yes, man!” exclaimed Ray, putting a pot of water on the stove and boiling a long chain of franks inside. When they were ready and had cooled down enough not to burn him, he placed the first link on Mike’s tongue, getting his paw drenched in hot slobber. The fox’s eyes lit up when the mouthwatering taste of sausage hit his mouth. Ray watched in awe as he drew the processed meat into his maw by the strength of his throat alone, chewing it enough to enjoy its potent juices without breaking the chain. Each section vanished into his chest with a slimy glnk, adding unnoticeably to the gargantuan size of his belly. When he was done, he grabbed Ray (who was clearly enjoying the show) and locked him in a surprise kiss, exchanging his spice-tainted saliva with him. The wolf reciprocated the probing, wrapping his tongue around Mike’s and emitting a low moan. Ray had to break the kiss when Mike pumped a massive belch directly into his mouth; their lips made an airtight seal, forcing him to inhale all the stale air that came out of his guest’s gut. After taking a moment to get some oxygen, Ray leaned in for another round. Mike’s maw greeted his tongue lovingly, allowing it to slurp the flavorful spit from every corner of his mouth. The taste of Ray got Mike’s heart pounding; he wanted the kiss to last forever, but on the other hand, he wanted something more. He pulled his head back and looked Ray in the eyes, inviting him to a level of intimacy neither canine had experienced before, far deeper than sex: 

“Gosh, Ray, you’re the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. Stop me if this sounds weird or gross to you, but what I really wanna do now is eat you.”

“E-eat me?”

“Yeah, like, swallow you whole. I want the chance to savor your fur, your thick muscles, your gentle paws… I want to feel the weight of your broad chest in my mouth, the beating of your heart on my tongue, and your arms pushing their way down my throat. I want you squirming inside my tummy, all warm and happy and comfortable.”

Ray stood still for a moment, unsure how to respond to such a sudden and unusual overture.

“Nevermind, actually. This whole thing is stupid. Just forget about it. I’m sorry for ruining the moment.”

“No,” said Ray, “it’s perfect. Everything you just described sounds like heaven to me. Eat me, Mike. Slowly. Soak me in your slobber and savor every inch of my skin. I belong in your belly; I want to rest on a bed of rice and meat, using your abs as a blanket. I can’t wait any longer, please just let me in.“

The fox obeyed, stretching his maw as wide as he could. Ray climbed on top of his belly and stared down his throat, carefully sliding his arms between his jaws and into his gullet. He slipped his head between his lips, allowing spit to dribble onto his head from the teeth and palate. He felt Mike’s strong tongue tasting his pectorals, squirming and pulsating as it covered his torso in thick, warm saliva. The force of gravity pulled his lubricated body deeper into his predator’s maw, bringing his nose to the top of his esophagus. As his snout descended his throat, he heard his boyfriend sucking him down with soft glks, carrying him towards his deeper destination. As his head poked into his stomach, Mike’s tongue caressed his belly up above, preparing to force the doughy mass down his throat. It left a massive bulge on his neck as it sank, but the fox was able to cram it down all the same. He swallowed the rest of Ray easily, taking in his feet with one last ulp. The wolf let his body sink into the mushy remains of the feast, warm and moist as could be. Surrounded by the spicy smell of sausage and the protective might of his new boyfriend, he could not stop himself from closing his eyes.

“Hey Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“Mind if I nod off in here?”

“Absolutely not, I’d love to keep you inside a little longer. Just give me a kick when you want to come out; I’ll throw you up at 5:00 if you’re still asleep.”

“Thanks.”