Poutine Story

The spicy sweet smell of churros… the salty savory scent of fish tacos… and the intoxicating scent of fried chicken… The indistinct noise of a bad cover band… The radiant heat of the late-summer sun…

“I’m home”, thought the amazonian head-headed woman. The unending series of lock downs and opening up made the memories of this food truck festival feel distant and nostalgic. Yet here she was, dressed in her flowiest shirt and shortest shorts, finally re-experiencing the hedonistic delights she so desperately missed. Her feet were rushing her from stall to stall, unable to control her needy excitement. Where to start?!? Pulled Pork? Bánh mì? Fried Chicken? Mini Donuts? She could spend hours wandering around and selecting truck to christen a day that one can accurately described as “near pornographic hedonism”.

But she had to start somewhere, all the anxious pacing about only highlights her growing hunger! Everything smells incredible, and every thought leads towards stuffing her mouth with every delight she can get her grubby hand on!

The need to feed grows with every woodfired pizza truck, every Kansas City-style barbeque truck, that she passes! Finally, her ravenous ID forces the anxious readhead to stop. Enacting a unconscious plan, she closes her eyes, steps up to a truck, and opens her mouth.

“Hi, uh, can I get a uhh…” she sputtered witlessly.

“Fuck, bad plan.” she thought. A quick glance at the menu. First item. ‘Fish and Chip’. Yes. Okay. Good plan.

“…uh, can I get some Fish and Chips.” Alright, good idea.

The glassy-eyed man in the truck completes the transaction with a disassociated silence and immediately gives her a basket of Fish and Chips that was already sitting behind him. Under a warming lamp.

“Oh. A heat lamp.” she sarcastically whispered silently. Never a good sign. Hopefully they weren’t sitting underneath long…

The next bad sign, the condiments lining the truck included only white vinegar. Not even the fake malt vinegar authentic chippy’s would have. “Fine then,” she thought, “lets see if this is even any good.”

The first bite of the cod was dry. Dry and bland. Dry and damp. Dry and flavourless. It’s fucking dry and a big goddamn disappointment. The sour taste of vinegar didn’t even help. It’s like chewing on a big battered block of overcooked tofu with the taste of vinegar stinging your mouth! Even the fries fucking suck, undercooked and wilty fries that don’t even have any salt!!!

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS???” the angry patron screamed “THIS IS AWFUL. THIS ISN’T EVEN FISH. THIS IS SOME OVERCOOKED LEATHER YOU DIDN’T EVEN BOTHER TO BEER BATTER!!! IS THAT FRESH OIL YOU USED??? NO WONDER IT TASTES LIKE NOTHING! AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN SALT THE FRIES!”

The man in the truck looked back with the same blank and distant stare. “Wow, can’t even give a shit when I’m yelling at him” she whined internally.

He heard a comment from the cook inhabiting a hidden part of the truck, the man nods and turns back to the bitchy woman. The man has a thick valley accent, “Hey, if ya don’t like it, we’ll give ya a poutine. On the house. Promise it’ll good.”

The taste of disappointment still lingered in the knot of her throat. Yet, the hunger in her belly intensified at the lack of resolution to it’s need. That very same id spoke up once again;

“Fine. I’ll take it.”

The man turned back to the cook and after an agonizing series of hunger pangs and idle waiting, he finally returned with another basket of fries. Now the fries were now a more satisfying colour of brown; but the gravy was a light brown chicken gravy, and some blocks of fucking cheddar instead of curds? As she was about to throw it into his face, the man leans forward holding a bottle of yellow-brown liquid in front of the furious woman. “Try it with the curry sauce, it’s pretty good.”

One more sharp pain in her stomach reminded the ginger that she was hungry, and desperate to get it over with. She snatched the bottle and drowned the cheese fries. Hoping that it’ll mask the disappointment via alchemy or some shit. Finally, she takes her first bite…

Holy fucking shit. It’s good. Like, it’s still not poutine; but the sauce makes these cheese fries really fucking good. It coats the inside of your mouth with a thick spicy-sweet flavour of an Indian Masala. Yet combined with the gravy and cheddar it combines into a melody of western flavours too. A taste almost as nostalgic as the festival, yet somehow totally new and novel. So overwhelming that everything fades away; the bad cover of “Seven Nation Army” playing in the distance, the mouthwatering smell of woodfired pizza nearby, and the crowds almost bumping into the ginger beauty lost in the curry sauce.

And it ends before she knows it, she unknowingly inhaled her entire meal. Yet the lingering taste in her mouth leaves her wanting. Her anger now doused in a blissful meal, she sheepishly returns to the truck. Gripping exact change and looking up with puppy dog eyes, “I’m sorry about earlier… had a bad day. But that, uh, ‘poutine’ was really good. Could I get another one?”

“Coming right up. One poutine!” he says with the same dispassionate tone.

The wait is even more agonizing, her unsatisfied stomach is protesting for more of that deep fried ambrosia. Even bouncing on her feet doesn’t even distract. But soon enough he hands her another basket. Drowning the cheese fries in curry sauce, and the first bite of this basket tastes even better than the last.

The flavour is even stronger, with each note of the melody becoming more prominent and nuanced. Saffron leads into brown sugar which highlights the taste of malt vinegar that compliments the flavour of cinnamon. Each bite is practically orgasmic, as every sense of the woman is heightened by the intense euphoria. The music returns to senses, and can now make out the words of the song. The gentle summer breeze feels incredibly calming as it drifts across her skin. This incredible moment seems to stretch on and on in bliss, and she hopes it doesn’t end…

Aaaand there’s no more. Yet the heightened sensations still linger. The other trucks smell even stronger now! Gosh there’s a Chicken Penne Alfredo that is calling her name just steps away. Bacon Wrapped Steak Bites that scream to be eaten. Heck! Even a proper Poutine truck that she can smell around the corner! Yet…

Yet her feet and mouth began working before she could think. “Another poutine please!” her eyes looking even more needily at the man inside the truck, and barely catching glimpses of the cook off to the side.

“Oh, uh, be careful. Ya might get a little, uh, thick if ya keep eating this stuff.” She finally notices that her clothes are feeling a bit tighter… her belly is looking a bit more prominent. But also her shorts are starting to really dig into her legs and waist.

“I-it’s fine!” she didn’t even give a second thought to her expanding waistline. “I’m just hungry, alright?”

In spite of his protestations, he apparently has a pre-prepared basket of the cheese fries just off to the side. Silently paying for it, she desperately grabs the food and once again slathers it in curry sauce practically filling the basket now. The slurry of fried potatoes and cheese and sauce fills the air with an aroma impossible to resist. The first bite… well… it does more than just deposit calories into her.

Once again distracted by her food trance; she doesn’t notice the hair on her head straightening out and going from a bright red to a deep purple. She especially doesn’t notice the little nub starting to poke out above her waist. Quickly growing and unfurling into a white and black tail.

Her transformation hastens as the each bite makes her fall deeper into a foodie trance; she feels electric as her skin tingles with each gust of the summer breeze. Unaware it’s the result of her skin lightening as millions of strands of fur suddenly poke out. Leaving patches of jet black on her muzzle and back as the rest fills in with white.

Small bumps poke out of the top of her head as it reaches the same shade of white as the rest of her. Sending euphoric tingles down the top of her head as the ears grow in; mistaking it as another wave of euphoria from the rich curry fries.

The fur spreads up from her neck, the white spreading up to her mouth, as the rest of her face gains the same snow white fur. Finally, she begins to notice all the changes as the normally forgettable nose in the corner of her eyes begins to darken… and grow longer. With one final bite of this serving of cheese fries, a final wave of intense orgasmic joy overcomes over her. Heat radiating from her middle while pins and needles grows across every inch of fur covering her body. Mind going blank as her crotch writhes and twitches in a hands-free climax. Every muscle tensing up as incredible pleasure numbs every single sense in her body. Noiselessly screaming in within this crowd, while her orgasm masks the sensation of her muzzles growing out; and her tail expanding to an impossibly large size. Almost dwarfing her already large frame. The large and densely furred tail punctuates the transformation as two parallel black streaks flow to the tip.

She was now a chubby skunk, straining her clothes and recovering from a very public and very intense orgasm.

With each passing moment, her mind clarifies. But instead of processing the changes to her body, the skunk instead can only focused on one thing. Another basket of those incredible cheese fries.

Her new digitigrade legs struggles to maintain balance, weakened by the life changing orgasm she just experience; in addition to accommodating her oversized tail. But with great effort she inches closer to the window of the truck once again, desperate for more.

This time instead of the slacker welcoming her, she saw a lean and self-satisfied skunk woman at the counter. The brand new skunk barely has a moment before the one inside the truck begins prattling at her, “ah so did the brat have a good time eatin’ my cookin’?” The strange skunk spoke in some strange unidentifiable mix of Canadian, Scottish, and… pirate? “Didja come up just to say thank ya for the delicious food, or to guzzle some more of that good stuff? I warn ya, it’s just gonna turn ya into more of a butterball! Is that what ya want? To be more of a big lardy skunk?”

The nervous former human could barely comprehend what the skunk was trying to communicate. But she knew what she needed.

“I-I want more…”

“Oh wow! Ya do admit it ya fatty! Maybe we should just call ye Fatti! Since ye seem ta be so desperate to pack on them pounds! Just wait a minute Fatti!” The domineering skunk turns around and prepares one more serving. Meanwhile, the anxious chubby skunk fidgets in place. Tugging at her shirt and shorts, looking for relief from the digging and tugging at her body. When that fails, she unconsciously reaches back at her tail, and grips it to her front. Nuzzling and gently grooming it…

“Order’s up Fatti!” She once again hands over the cheese fries; an oversized order this time, and absolutely covered in gravy and cheddar squares. Fatti then grabs the curry sauce once again, struggling to add more. Desperate to taste it and feel the pleasure overwhelm her once again.

This time, the first bite did something curious. The waves of euphoria are missing. Instead she just felt something akin to pressure grow inside her body; and then dissipate, except for the remaining tightness around her hips and chest. Another bite of the delicious food does the same. With the pressure around her chest and hips intensifying once more. Curious she looks down and finds… a much larger white-furred belly poking out beneath her shirt. Giving it a curious poke, and it confirms that a ridiculously huge and jiggly belly is attached to her. It almost looks as if she swallowed a beach ball, if it wasn’t so flabby and covered in rolls.

Attempts to tug at her shorts reveals that her belly and thighs are cartoonishly puffing out around them. Her thighs are enormous, as wide as the wheels of the truck she’s standing before. She could hear people snickering around her at how goofy she looked, a tiny pair of shorts somehow containing this lardass’ incredible rear end.

Heck if she could see herself, she would also see her own tail thickening with each bite as well. It’s almost as wide as she is, and puffing out to as thick as her as well.

The stares and giggles made Fatti more anxious, and she did the only thing she could do. Listen to her hungry id once again and eat. Another couple of bites and she felt her chest relax, as her tits finally escaped her bra by snapping the clasps at the back and dangle out. Now barely covered by her now tight top. Likewise, she felt her shorts finally begin to split. Stitch by stitch, the relief cascaded until the prison her ass was confined within finally rested in tatters around her legs.

Still she ate, as her chest became the size of watermelons, her belly fold over her crotch, and her colossal butt become big enough to break chairs. But the part of her dominated the most of her figure was her tail, now the size of a small car as she had the final bites of her comforting meal.

And with that final bite, the spell was broken; her mind sober enough to realized that she had gone from a stunning and tall ginger woman to an absolutely and cartoonishly huge skunk. Almost entire nude except for a shirt that is acting more like a bralette. A crowd of people stands in front of the truck, gawking and giggling at the hilarious sight in front of them. Fatti was humiliated, and that shame brought her to look for the only thing that she knew would soothe it. More poutine.

Fatti struggled to waddle up to the truck; getting out of breath from just struggling to walk (most assuredly creating more smirks and giggles in her direction). The struggle gave her time to finally read the side of the truck after all this time, “Patti’s Fresh Catch”, with a cartoon of a fishing skunk above the logo. It seems that Patti is the one staring at her with a smirk and a swishing tail inside the truck.

“So, ya want more, eh?” Patti stared looking for an answer. But Fatti could only reply with a single nod. “Well I guess some six hundred pounds is enough punishment for a bratty butterball like you for insulting my cookin’. If ya want more though, ya gotta make up for all the customers you scared away with your little temper tantrum earlier! That sound agreeable?” Another single and enthusiastic nod was the only response Fatti could muster as she stepped closer. “Take this then,” Patti said as she threw an apron overtop with a hastily made sticker saying “Hi I’m Fatti”

She handed a tray of samples of fish and chips before saying, “alright! Now hand out these samples and get us some customers! Then you’ll get some more, alright?” Once again, a single nod and then Fatti waddles into the crowd; holding a tray with samples of Fish and Chips daydreaming about eating more…