The glowing ring light of my webcam illuminated the Everest of food wrappers and half-eaten containers surrounding Saber. Her massive, striped body was splayed out on the beanbag, looking less like a majestic predator and more like a very fluffy, very stuffed sausage. This "stuffing drive" stream had been going on for hours, and the viewers, bless their insane hearts, just kept donating.

"Alright, that’s another five bucks from 'PizzaPaloozaPete'!" I announced to the camera, trying to sound chipper despite the growing dread in my stomach mirroring Saber’s. "Looks like Saber gets another… an entire family-size lasagna this time?"

Saber groaned, a sound that was half purr, half-death rattle. She’d already plowed through ten greasy burgers, three large pizzas (which now seemed like a light snack), a glistening Christmas ham bone picked clean, two dozen cookies that had vanished like magic, two jugs of Dr. Pepper that had made her burp like a foghorn, and a party-size bag of Doritos. Oh, and the thick chocolate cake – the one where poor Curry had gotten comically stuck in her saber teeth, leading to a frantic, chocolatey rescue mission.

"Ugh… my ‘Tumby’ huwts," she whined, her voice naturally slurred around those impressive tusks. She looked up at me with wide, golden eyes, a slice of pepperoni pizza dangling precariously from the corner of her mouth, already halfway slid down her chin. Her fur, usually so vibrant, seemed a shade paler, and yes, her face was looking distinctly green. The camera probably couldn't pick it up, but I certainly could.

"I know, baby," I sighed, gesturing vaguely at the mountain of empty containers. "Maybe we should stop? You look like you're about to pop."

"Nooooo," she elongated the word, shaking her head. The pizza slice wobbled. "Still hungwy… but my ‘Tumby’ huwts." She patted her distended belly with a paw, a faint 'thump' against the tautness. It was a truly massive, packed gut, stretching her fur to its absolute limit.

"Okay, okay," I relented, knowing it was useless to argue. The chat was still spamming 'MORE FOOD!' and 'GO SABER!' She thrived on the attention, even if it meant risking a stomach rupture. "Come here, let me rub it for you."

Reluctantly, I leaned over, my hand hovering over her painfully full stomach. It radiated heat, and I could almost hear the digestive processes churning within. As soon as my palm made contact, gently pressing into the taught, rounded mass, a deep rumble vibrated through her chest. Saber began to purr, a powerful engine of sound that shook the very beanbag.

But it wasn't a purely contented purr. It was laced with a pained whine, a low, guttural grumble that spoke of immense discomfort. My fingers kneading against her belly felt like I was massaging a rock-hard balloon, stretched to its absolute limit. Every now and then, a tiny burp escaped her, smelling faintly of Doritos and ham.

"Mmm… that’s nicew," she mumbled, eyes half-closed in a mix of bliss and agony. Her whiny eyes stared up at me, a silent plea for both relief and continued attention. The pizza slice finally detached from her mouth and landed with a soft splat on the beanbag. Without missing a beat, she slowly reached down, picked it up, and popped it back into her mouth.

Her face, still tinged green, scrunched up as she chewed, a soft groan escaping her. She looked like she was teetering on the very brink of disaster, but the purr continued, the painful whine persisted, and the chewing never stopped. I just kept rubbing, trapped in this bizarre, full-bellied purgatory, wondering how much more punishment her 'Tumby' could possibly take. I’m