Beast's Binge- Part 3 (Patreon)

Beast can't help himself around more Disney treats, but when the last of his clothes rips, he resolves to diet- until he sees his next delicious meal, anyways. Enjoy!

*************

It was settled- Turkey Legs were Beast's new favorite. They were cheap, they were big as a bowling ball, and they tasted great. He was already on his tenth for the day, and it was only with that, a particularly meaty and juicy specimen, that he was starting to slow down and consider maybe getting something slightly healthier- like a chocolate-dipped, frozen banana. That was a fruit, so that counted as healthy, right? Beast nodded to himself, rounded jowls and multiple chins jiggling softly.

Speaking of a particularly meaty and juicy specimen, however, Beast himself was certainly turning more and more heads as his Disney-themed binge stretched on into multiple weeks. Most people who saw him weren't entirely convinced he was the real Beast- something he took some small offense to, because really, who else could he be? Some seemed to think he was wearing a body suit, something to make a joke or statement about the company, which only made him furrow his brow. Okay, sure, he wasn't entirely in denial- he had put on a few pounds. But he had always been the biggest Disney prince, pound for pound, so what difference did it make? He tried holding on to that thought as he trundled along, chunky thunder thighs churning against his massive, roiling gut. It billowed out like a weather balloon filled with jelly, not quite hitting the ground, but it sank well beneath his knees, making it harder and harder to navigate around the parks. He nearly took up entire sidewalks on his own, huffing softly as his pillowy chest inflated, thick, fat-swaddled arms swinging to keep his balance.

"It's… it's just a little extra weight," Beast grumbled darkly to himself, even as his one free hand sank deep into the voluminous love-handles spilling over his taut sweatpants. He wore a custom jacket, royal blue and adorned with his coat of arms, to give some semblance of a complete outfit, but the sleeves were fit to burst with his chunky arms packed in like sausages, and it hung limp at his sides, any chance of traversing the crest of his gut melting like a snowball in hell. "I'll just… diet after my vacation," he muttered, tearing another huge chunk of roasted meat from his latest turkey leg. "Yeah. Some running, some hunting, lifting weights… I'll be back in shape in no-"

Then it happened. All it took was one shuffling, waddling step too many as he tried to turn, swinging his chunky leg out as far as it could go without being weighed down by his sagging belly. His sweatpants tore, revealing the pair of blubbery globes that made up his rear, his tail curling out of shock and embarrassment.

"Or… now. I can start dieting now," he mumbled, the nearly spherical, monstrous prince shuffling as quick as he could for the park exit. This had gone on long enough, he had to get his appetite under control. No sooner had he made his decision, however, that he got a notification on his phone- his reservations for dinner at EPCOT's Chefs de France was in an hour. It was too late to cancel, they would charge him for being a no-show.

"One more meal," he sighed. He hefted up as much as his gut as he could, a truly monumental weight bearing down on his thick arms before letting it drop, the whole great mass bouncing and trembling like a waterbed in an earthquake. "One more meal can't possibly make much of a difference now…"