To Feed A Skunk (Patreon)

Sorry for the late post! Had a bunch going on this month. But here's To Feed a Skunk! A 4 part, 4k word story/picture combo about a skunk who receives a mysterious benefactor, and the effect it has on her waistline! 

Includes wg, humiliation, bbw/ssbbw and a bit of happy self actualisation at the end

I hope you enjoy it, shoot me a comment and lemme know<3

Our mysterious benefactor is Firefox's Kasara! Shhh, don't let Violet know

--- 

BRRR. BRRR.

Past the loud video game music pumping from her headphones, Violet heard the gentle vibration of her phone before a notification bloomed on her desktop. Usually another email wasn't enough to warrant interest, much less distract from her MMO, but Violet was in a lull in the gameplay, standing around waiting for another queue to pop.A casual glance at the title of the email which flashed gently on the lower right of her screen piqued her interest.

Please accept this modest donation, think of it as a long term investment~.

It didn't read like a scam. The message had been sent through a social media site she frequently used and sometimes posted selfies to. Leaning back in her chair, the skunk alt-tabbed from her video game to read the email proper.

I’m sure you’re busy running MSQ so I'll keep this brief: I do believe you recently posted about being out of work, and it wouldn’t do to see such a precious, fledgling talent go to waste. Here’s a little something to keep you going. Use it for food, or however else you might see fit.

Sincerely,                                    
DrinkUpDarling

Just as she had finished reading the message, Violet heard another ping. Her paypal indicated she'd received money. Fifty dollars from a ‘friend’. For a moment she considered refunding the payment; she'd never asked for help and wasn't sure how she felt about accepting it. But a pang of hunger pushed that idea away. All she had to do was look around to see how many meals she had made of instant noodles lately and cheap noodles weren't enough for a skunk to live on. Not long term. It would be nice to be able to afford something a little more nutritious. So instead of refunding the money, Violet considered what to write for a few minutes before typing back what she thought would sound like a heartfelt acceptance and thank you for the money. She really did need it, she just wasn't that great at conveying herself properly. It had been a recurring theme with her online friendships that people told her she came across as distant and standoffish, that she felt hard to approach. This suited Violet fine enough; she never really cared to have a lot of social media followers. But it grated on her that sometimes she could have trouble properly conveying herself. Hoping her mysterious benefactor understood how much fifty dollars would help her, Violet decided she'd had enough for her game and signed off, though a lingering thought remained. How had they known what she was doing?

The skunk's room was dark, lit only by the screen of her computer and the crack of sunlight that her blackout curtains could never truly banish. Her floor was a mess with empty grocery bags making a small pile to the left, clean and used clothes claimed their own respective spots next to her bed and by her desk a mound of clean but empty food containers fought for space with a bin she emptied too rarely. Stepping into a clear space required some practiced footwork as Violet stood and stretched, cracking her aching back.

She was attractive in a conventional sense, even if it was hard to see through the gloom. Violet had long, dark hair that fell to the small of her back and curled around her face. She was small chested and flat stomached, though likely the size of both would have been more healthy if she ate better. Violet tried not to care too much for her appearance, she wasn't really interested in dating at the moment anyway and who would she bring home to a room full of empty ramen containers? She pulled on her hoodie, far too large for a girl her size but just right for Violet, and walked towards the front door. Her small apartment fared better in general than her room did, but that was largely because of disuse. It had been a while since she needed to clean her kitchen – it was rarely used after all.

Violet worked computer repair – that is, she used to work computer repair. The computer shop she used to work at shut down and lately she had neither the energy nor inclination to do freelance work around town. That meant far too much interaction with the average person than she could stomach. Applications to other computer repair shops had been rejected or ghosted, to the point where the skunk was considering a change in career. But to what? She chased those thoughts out of her head as she picked up the keys to her apartment. Everything else could wait, what she needed now was a proper meal. Even if she had to cook it herself.

–

The groceries she bought were combined into a delicious meal, the leftovers of which lasted for several days. For several days Violet felt happy and satiated like she rarely felt on her regular diet of ramen noodles and vegetables. It was with a note of sadness that she finished off the last bowl of the mapo tofu she had made herself – a delicious spicy beef mince dish with tofu served on rice. But such was the way of things and while her job search had yielded no further results she was at least more open to the idea of doing random repair jobs around town now she remembered what proper food tasted like. It was after she was mopping up the last of the mapo tofu sauce with rice that another ping caught her attention.

I imagine you’re about due for a grocery run. Here you are, my dear.. ;3

Another message from DrinkUpDarling, accompanied by another fifty dollars. A frown curled the corners of Violet's mouth. It was nice, but it was too much. Who was this person? She recalled mention of “a long term investment.” What did they expect in return? Violet wasn't going to allow herself to be held to the whims of some stranger. A one time donation was one thing, but what if this became regular? Better to cut things off now, she thought. A little annoyed at herself for not just taking the money, Violet sighed and hit the refund button.

Ping.

Perhaps that was a misclick? At any rate I’d hate to think you might go hungry.

The reply came instantly. It was a confrontation that Violet didn't really expect, even if the tone was far from hostile. It also came attached to another donation, this one more than the last. She set herself in her chair and typed back a response.

ViolentViolets: Thank you for the donation, but I don't need your money.

DrinkUpDarling: You had mentioned on socials that times were hard, or am I mistaken??

ViolentViolets: No. But I'll be fine, I'm looking for a new job.

DrinkUpDarling: I understand that this may be a matter of swallowing your pride, but I’d much rather you swallow something tasty instead.

ViolentViolets: Uh…

DrinkUpDarling: I phrased that poorly, apologies. But the point stands, you can’t exactly hunt for gainful employment on an empty stomach. It’s a bit forward of me, I know, but I want to see you thrive, so please, take the money and take care of your needs.

Violet blinked and found herself slumped into her chair. Whoever this benefactor was, they weren't wrong. Violet did need the money. A thousand expenses haunted her anxieties. Alright, she decided. She would accept the donation, and any more that would come. So long as they came with no strings attached, of course. Violet typed out a grateful response, but even as she finished it she was already thinking about the next meal she would make. Maybe a thick, Japanese curry with potatoes to help spread it out. She wondered if she could afford proper beef. She could, now.

–

A month slowly passed, and while it wasn't every day, whenever Violet seemed like she was running low on funds she would receive an encouraging message and a donation from DrinkUpDarling. It took her a week or two, along with sparse conversations but finally the skunk decided that she was okay with accepting such contributions. For whatever reason this person had decided to help her out, and that was okay. Conversations with her benefactor tended to be uncommon, short and actually rather strange. They rarely asked for details about Violet's life, but asked about things like how she was feeling. What her long term plans were. It gave her the strange feeling that she was talking to someone who knew her, but at the same time, she knew nothing about. That's not to say the conversations were one sided, her benefactor was happy to talk about herself – she lived on a farm somewhere, or at the very least seemed to own one. She had a lot of projects in the air but nothing that was really pressing. Like an author writing a book, she seemed to work at her own pace and got things done when she wanted to. She seemed interested in Violet's health, and making sure the girl was eating right, and often.

Violet was certainly doing both of those, with regular donations her kitchen was dusted off and pushed back into constant use. Every meal she had denied herself over the past half a year was finally something she could eat again and she couldn't wait to eat them all. She cooked her childhood favourites first, lasagnes and spaghetti that her mother used to cook, all slathered in thick meats and creams and cheese. Then she branched out to things she wanted to try. One pot pastas, chicken pot pies, french onion soup. They were meals she had no experience with, but thanks to the powers of the internet got a fairly solid idea of how to make. And gods, were they delicious.

Night after night the skunk sat in her computer chair, playing, raiding and writing short stories. And every night there was a bowl or a plate piled high with whatever she had made. It would be picked clean, of course. With the money she got from DrinkUpDarling she was able to make big portions for leftovers, and she ate well every day. Perhaps a little too well. Violet didn't notice herself outgrowing her clothes, she didn't seem to notice the way her stomach was slowly pushing her shirts up as, day after day, night after night, she ate so much of the heaviest meals she could make that she was left panting for breath afterwards. She didn't notice as her chair began to creak or her gut began to round out – growing from the flat little thing that it was until it developed a crease along the sides. Her stomach would push out into two rolls that flattened with every night, every stuffing.

At some point, in the back of her mind, the skunk understood what was happening to her. She was putting on weight. She could feel it getting up from her futon bed every morning, just like she could hear her futon's groaning protest as she collapsed into it every night. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and saw how her body had softened. Everything looked the same except for her stomach, which had grown out like an expanding marshmallow, straining her all of her tops. It was a problem or, it would be a problem if she was going out at all. A little weight gain seemed like an acceptable trade for being able to suddenly eat actual food instead of noodles. Cradling her stomach in one hand while she looked at herself in the mirror, she decided she didn't really care about it. She could exercise when she found a job and finally had to go out for more than groceries. Until then the only problem her growing middle presented was a struggle for her shirts to manage.

Besides, it's not like she was fat or anything. Chubby at the most. Someone asked when she was due while she was shopping for groceries and for some reason Violet blushed. She mumbled some excuses and hurried away, but the interaction stuck with her long afterwards. That one voice, when was she due?

–

CLACK CLACK CLACK

Trams weren't known for being quiet.

Violet stood, gripping the hand grip to guard against the constant motion of the tram, its sudden stops, starts and turns. With every motion, every bump, she could feel herself jiggle like her body were made of jello. No, not made with, covered by. How absolutely mortifying. Sure if she could have afforded the Uber, Violet would have taken that instead. But it wouldn't have done anything for her in the end, it wasn't the journey that had the skunk's heart beating a mile a minute, it was the destination.

Standing there, no matter how hard she looked at her phone, the motion of the tram reminded Violet of just how fat she had allowed herself to become. Well past chubby, even her oversized hoodie was starting to ride up the curve of her massive, wobbling, sloshing stomach! For the thousandth time that day, she thought back to how this could be possible. How this could have crept up on her so quietly. Sure, she felt it every time she got up from her computer chair, and oh how that chair was starting to complain. Sure she had been concerned when the arms of the chair began to dig into her sides and finally just snapped off. They wouldn't be put on again, the screws were all bent. But back then it felt like everything was normal – yeah she was bigger, but she could lose weight if she wanted. It was nothing to worry about. Now she could feel the stares of the other passengers of the tram on the back of her head. She felt them, mumbling apologies sometimes, often just quiet as they pushed past her down the aisle. Whoever was sitting in front of her was doing their level best not to even look in her direction. If they did, they would see Violet staring determinedly at her phone, but she would probably blush all the same.

Violet shifted on her feet. Even with the hand hold above her taking some of the weight, her knees still hurt. That too had crept up on her suddenly – the sheer amount of aches and pains that came with being fat. Fat. She was fucking fat. A fucking whale. Clenching her eyes shut, the skunk pushed that train of thought away and went back to thinking about the aches and pains. It had started with her back and knees in the kitchen. She found her back ached when she leaned forward too long to chop vegetables. That problem came to an end when one day she felt herself leaning on her stomach as it pressed against the counter, a handy solution to a problem that really only got in the way of her cooking. But still it felt like the rest of her had suddenly just become heavy. The kind of heavy where going from her chair to the bathroom now left her out of breath. Nothing intense, no sweating and panting, just a few little needy huffs of air when she stopped in either direction. At the time it had been nothing to worry about, she could have just worked out, after all.

“Excuse me.”

A doberman seemed to think those words excused just about anything – he practically elbowed her as he walked past, like he was carving a way through tall grass. His push into her back sent her wobbling forward against the poor doe sitting in front of her and her gut – HER GUT – actually pushed into the woman's face!

“I'm so sorry!” Violet mumbled, stepping back as quickly as she could, which wasn't nearly so fast as she had been a year ago. The doe mumbled back something as well and shuffled away on her seat but all the other seats were full so it was really just an awkward shuffling that made no actual movement. The two of them resumed pointedly not looking at one another though Violet could feel her blush burning on her face.

She all but jumped with relief when the tram's automated voice called out her stop. Violet, along with a handful of others shuffled towards the nearest door and she wished, like she had wished a hundred times before, that she had discovered her largest hoodie too small for her before she had had to go out. There was nothing to be done about it now, but she could see the others looking her up and down and deciding it was for fashion that she was showing her fat gut to the world. She blushed and kept her head down, eyes glued to her phone.

Somehow, some time during the last few months her mysterious benefactor had managed to wrangle Violet’s address out of her. She had offered to send Violet food - it all made sense at the time. The benefactor had sent plenty of donations, if she wanted to ubereats Violet some food she couldn’t see the harm in it.

How naive she had been. Now along with her home made meals she had ubereats drivers showing up practically every day providing the most fattening lunches and dinners that Violet had ever seen. Of course, she could simply have not eaten the triple stacked burger, but why would she do that? She had survived for months off of ramen noodles. She could eat a big burger for lunch and then take a light dinner, she thought. But that was never how it really worked out. If she made her own dinner she always made a lot, and if she didn’t, well another uber eats driver would show up at her door.

Outside the tram the passengers dispersed in their own directions and a familiar sensation of effort came over Violet as she began to waddle, waddle! - down the street. Sweat began to bead on her forehead. She thanked her lucky stars that her destination wasn’t too far, or she wasn’t sure she would be able to make it. But quickly enough she found herself standing in front of a small set of stairs leading to an innocuous looking green door.

They must have been waiting for her, because on Violet’s approach the green door opened and a skunk and vixen opened the door - her parents. Each looked at her with a mixture of happiness, surprise, and a subtle undertone of shock.

“Violet! You’ve... grown?”

--

ViolentViolets: This has to stop.

DrinkUpDarling: I don’t understand, did something happen?

ViolentViolets: I went to my parents today, they freaked out. I’m huge!

DrinkUpDarling: I see. I do hope they weren’t angry.

ViolentViolets: More like concerned. I should be too!

DrinkUpDarling: You’re living comfortably and safely, they should be content with that.

ViolentViolets: That’s not the point!

DrinkUpDarling: I’m afraid I don’t follow. What do you want, if not an enjoyable lifestyle?

ViolentViolets: I don’t know, not looking like a fucking whale?

DrinkUpDarling: I see. I apologize if it seems that I’ve inadvertently had a hand in contributions to your waistline. If you really want to lose weight, you can. All you have to do is stop eating.

ViolentViolets: ... if things keep going the way they are, I’ll be too fat to work.

DrinkUpDarling: Then perhaps you’d be better suited to a line of work that doesn’t revolve around running yourself ragged playing errand girl. I’d be more than happy to continue supporting you as I have been, though it would admittedly be more direct if you were to visit my farm.

ViolentViolets: pfft..

DrinkUpDarling: I do believe I’ve proven myself enough to warrant more than a raspberry. At any rate, spend the donations as you please. But I do hope you continue to pursue what makes you happy.

The night after Violet got back from her parents it felt like something snapped inside of her - with the help of her conversation with her benefactor. Maybe they were right, maybe she should pursue happiness. It’s not like eating made her feel miserable. And it’s not like being fat felt bad. She could work it off, if she wanted to, but after that conversation she felt no... desire to exercise. The meals would keep coming and she would keep eating them, experimenting with her own cooking and making the most of the time she had to eat what she wanted to.

That’s how, nearly a month later, Violet found herself stumbling under the weight of her own girth. The stove was off and beads of sweat trickled down her face as she clasped either side of her massive, round, wobbling gut to stabilize herself. The last time she had stepped on a scale it broke beneath her, and even had it not she had been too fat to actually see the display. She estimated she was somewhere north of five hundred pounds, and a new scale was coming in the mail that would confirm this. Heaviness was now a constant companion, from the drag of her stomach to the general feeling of weight that accompanied her where-ever she went. But Violet was far from unhappy as she made the finishing touches on her meal. The smell of the delicious cheesy chicken pie she had just made permeated the air and stimulated her saliva. Her stomach, already so massive it felt like it was getting closer to her knees by the day, grumbled and gurgled needily. It wasn’t like she was hungry, a large lunch provided by DrinkUpDarling was still sitting heavily inside her gut, but the smell of that chicken pie was irresistible. With a grimace she pulled her hoodie back over her gut, only to watch it slowly creep back up again and turned to her kitchen counter.

The portion she collected on her plate would have made her oggle a few months ago. Back when she was living on ramen it seemed ludicrous to eat so much in one sitting, but these days it felt commonplace. Another change gone by that Violet barely even recognised. Her knees were already aching from all the cooking and waddling around she had been doing and she longed to sit back in the comfort of her computer chair - an upgrade she had had to purchase after the base of her old one cracked and broke under her weight. It didn’t matter, the new one was much more comfortable.

One more change that had gone unnoticed was that her room was cleaner too, these days. Far fewer empty containers and bags were strewn across the floor and the pile of clothes she actually fit into was far diminished, with the rejects that she’d slowly grown out of finding their way into the garbage, ripped in various places as they were. New clothes were actually stored in her wardrobe, which was easier to access than bending over to the ground every time she wanted to grab something. With her plate set down on her desk, she lowered herself slowly into her computer chair, paws grasping at the sides of her massive stomach as it settled, and slowly roving across its surface. Her stomach was a companion she was still getting used to, something she was still not sure about. In her quiet moments she enjoyed it, the feel of it, the softness. She enjoyed keeping herself full, stuffed so full of food that she could barely breathe. It made her heart pound and her cheeks flush. It seemed like the benefits of keeping it outweighed the negatives, which were the occasional new diet article her parents would link now and then.

And besides, a new career path had come to her attention. NO ONE MUST EVER KNOW. But as she sat on her computer and took the first tantalizing bites of her meal, Violet started looking over the pages of those who she would be working alongside (figuratively) as a cam girl. She blushed at the thought, even now, but the money seemed good. Of course, her benefactor kept her well looked after, but the thought of making something her own, that she could be the girl laying on the bed, filling herself with food and groping her stomach, that made her squirm in a way she thought was well worth pursuing.

She had a feeling her benefactor would approve.