Renamon’s relaxation space was a bit of an odd one, to say the least. The basement of your place was small, cramped, and mostly cleared out of anything that would be of use; why she would’ve chosen to set up camp in there would’ve been a mystery to anyone who didn’t know of the one useful thing that was actually in there- an old computer from the turn of the millennium that you never bothered to actually get rid of. The two of you found the old thing in the attic one day, and since then she’d constantly be pestering you to hook it back up to ‘see what’s inside’. Eventually you’d stopped relenting, and from there you’d be privileged to see just how literal that statement was.

The Digimon had taken up residence *inside* the computer, using that strange technomagic that you’d never been able to understand and quite frankly didn’t want to. From your comprehension, the desktop acted as its own little portion of the digital world, one she insisted acted as her own virtual dojo. Thus, the reason why your old Dell pc had been on for the last week straight, Rena hanging out and reveling in what you considered a relic of the past.

Of course, what was happening inside the beige box was far from athletic. No, Renamon’s routine whilst inside your computer seemed to be… hard to explain, really. There was a phrase to describe what you see whenever you come back to the monitor’s dull screen, but you couldn’t quite place it. Maybe you’d figure it out with your daily check-in with the Digimon. Approaching the monitor for what felt like the tenth time since you plugged it in, you were greeted with the teal desktop background, an assortment of odd files, and of course…

A chibi pop-up of Renamon obscuring the lower-right part of the screen.

“Hello there, and welcome to Rena.mon!” said the avatar of the digital monster, a little cheerful expression popping onto its face. “What can I do for you today? Organize your files? Play a game with you?”

Hey, you just figured out what her role-playing reminded you of: Bonzi Buddy.

The virtual kitsune continued on, unbated by your thoughts of her. “I am capable of many helpful actions. Click me to get started!”

Perhaps you would have a few days ago, but a week straight of indulging Renamon’s personal fantasies of being a digital assistant has left you more than a bit apathetic of the whole routine. Having her sit in on you creating a fake spreadsheet can only be interesting so many times in a row, and now you’re left looking for other ways to have fun with her.

And today, you think you’ve indeed found that other way to mess with her.

Rena is delighted to have you click on her body, unaware that you’re not left-clicking, but right-clicking on her visage. A small grey context menu pops up, briefly covering her (prompting a little quip from the chibi fox about turning out the lights). You scroll down to the bottom of the menu, hovering over the ‘advanced options’ tab. Clicking that, a window pops up- all the configuration you could ask for a Rena.mon to give you is included within. Scrolling to the end of *that* menu, you finally find what was buried away from you: a little button labelled “Digi-Hax 2000 Edition”.

You don’t particularly remember when you installed the modification to your computer; your best guess was the summer when you thought the Matrix was the greatest film ever made (and still is, let’s not kid ourselves). Regardless of how well you could date it, the program was still installed after all this time, and ready to modify any compatible piece of software it could work with. It didn’t take a computer genius to know what worked with the device- the fact that the button even appeared in the first place told you that Digi-Hax was more than compatible with Rena.mon.

The off-brand panel that’s appeared is so neon you swear that even Rena can see it, and from the looks of the amateur hacker display you now have access to all of the forbidden Digimon training tools that you were always warned about as a kid. It’s a dizzying display of number generators and sliders, but the mess of a UI doesn’t faze you. You’re here for only several crucial modifiers, and you’ve already rehearsed where to find them.

Clicking through a section marked “Languages”, you sample the options at your disposal, alongside the preview button attached to it. Spanish, German, Bulgarian… the list starts out simple enough, but as you scroll down menus upon menus the options begin to take a turn for the weird, first going through niche, barely known languages, and then to complete joke options like ‘Pirate’ and something called ‘Esperanto’. Mouse resting atop a very peculiar choice, you set the option to default and then slap the preview option like your life depends on it. Minimizing the panel, you’re now ready to hear Renamon’s role call once more:

“hewwo thewe, and wewcome to rena.mon! OwO Whut can i do fow u today? owganize ur filwes? pway a game wit u?”

Renamon’s synthesized voice comes out loud but not clear, sounding as if she’s cartoonishly congested. As soon as she’s done with the sentence, the monster seems to instantly realize what’s gone wrong. She glares at you with as much annoyance as her little kitsune body can muster.

“o_0 hey, wut did u do owo? Whawt have uwu done tuwu my voihce?”

You’re too busy laughing at her to give her a dignified response. The fox’s temples turn red as she attempt to berate you for your antics:

“Thiws isn't funny, yu jewk! chwange me bawck, wight thiws instint!”

Like hell you would. Hearing Rena cough and sputter up leetspeak is the most fun you’ve had all week, and the humiliation is just beginning. Grabbing an old text file from your desktop, you drag it directly into Renamon’s face. Slapped with a pile of half-written code, the fox begins to object, only for an automated response to force her into place. The thumbnail for the file shrinks into her mouth, bitcrushed munching sounds simulating eating.

“Mmmm, that was dewiciouws! can i have mowe? UwU”

It never even occurred to Renamon that her role as a digital application might have allowed her to dispose of files like this. The fox stares at you blankly, her mind currently stalling in a state of “what the hell did I just do?”. You’re more than happy to show her what she’s just done, dragging another text file or two to her mouth, which she’s forced to wolf down in quick succession.

“Mmmm, that was dewiciouws! OwO i think i'm getting weally full, thouwgh. Pwease uwse the recycle bin fow any mowe dewetion needs, thank yu.”

Yeah, that’s not going to cut it for you. Pulling Digi-Hax 2000 back up, you search the cavalcade of menus for a section marked “Hunger”. You find a box labelled “turn off hunger meter” and check it quickly. A ludicrously long warning pops up to try and tell you the consequences of the action you’re about to perform. You ignore it with another click of the mouse and minimize the application completely.

Time to stress-test this so-called application.

Cracking open a folder, you’re keen to dump its entire contents into Renamon. Unsurprisingly, she’s forced to oblige, file after file lining up to force itself into her mouth.

“Cume on, stwahp!” cries Renamon in-between byte bites. “i a-awweady t-towd you i-i'm full!"

Sure you are, Renamon. The data doesn’t lie, though: she’s eating through a day’s worth of bits with mechanical precision, an out-of-place hunger that certainly is hers and hers alone. Having depleted the one folder, you just move on to the next, this one filled with all sorts of visual images and gifs you saved from your valiant time perusing the web. You plop them around Renamon’s mouth, and the images gradually coerce themselves into the kitsune’s maw, same as the text files albeit with one key difference: the sounds of chewing have become deeper, heavier as the poor fox attempts to chew and swallow a much larger amount of data at a time.

It's a lot for any program that could be called chibi to digest. You swear you can see her lithe frame begin to fill out as you force more into her, Rena’s stomach beginning to bulge out on her sprite, inflating pixel by pixel as if she swallowed a small ball. Each photo that disappears into her rounds her out a tad more, curve broadening into a tight little potbelly that seems like it’s begging to continue down the path of unabated growth.

You certainly don’t abate it. Gif after gif is sucked down whole by your digital vacuum, her stomach now audibly sloshing and gurgling as it grows. The bitcrushed organ sounds are indistinguishable from dial-up tones at first, but soon they grow tighter, more guttural, hitting a audible peak as you decide to ramp the data destruction up by selecting multiple files at once. Rena can barely chew at this point, anger having taken over her mouth muscles:

“Stowp thiws at once, yu *nom* bastawd! i'm shtuffed tu the gills, any more awnd i'wl *hic* pawp!”

Oops, she shouldn’t have talked with her mouth full. For that, you’ll be properly punishing her by selecting the entire folder and ramming it down her throat. Renamon’s belly wastes no time letting the files go to waist; her belly begins to swell out rapidly, bloating like a beach ball attached to an air compressor as it swells over her crotch and makes room by forcefully spreading her thighs. You didn’t think a sprite could so easily sell the emotion of overfilled nausea, but Rena’s wearing the expression all the same. You’d probably get slapped by her if you admit it, but it’s certainly cute.

“Ohhhhhhhh….” The Rena.foodballoon grumbles. “Noh moar… pwease…… *BELCH*”

No more? Not when she’s just made all that extra space in herself! Renamon moans and belches, rubbing her distended tummy as you dig deep into the system files, dragging out a much, much larger folder labelled ‘games’. Now here’s where the good stuff lies: DOS shovelware, area shooters, and all sorts of real-time strategy games are stored in here; they’ve aged anything but gracefully, and it’s far past the time that they all get placed in a willing receptacle.

You slide the smallest games in Renamon’s mouth first, waiting for periods between burps to brush them against her lips. The munching sound effect plays once more, only this time distorted into a mess of bass and static. The message is clear: every bite is a forced challenge for the poor Digimon, and her reward for completion? Yet more for her to glut on. Renamon’s balloon of a belly lurches forward with each piece of shareware she swallows, bloating down past her knees like a runaway airbed. It’s as mesmerizing for her as it is for you; you swear she’s been put into a trance by this point, her subservient stomach doing most of the legwork for her consciousness.

“Noh moar…” repeats the kitsune as she guzzles graphics, though you can barely hear the demand over her stomach. It’s touching the virtual floor now, and as it churns it begins to sound like purely mechanical machinery working on full blast. The stretched white fur is turning red, visible strain showcasing just how brutally overloaded her drives have become. It’s prime amusement for you, but it’s also a clear warning; you might want to cool it with the game deletion or you won’t even get to the final part of your scheme before she blows.

Leaving the absolutely stuffed fox to gurgle to herself, you pull up Digi-Hax one last time. Clicking through the ‘spawners’ section, you quickly assemble your big finale and hit Enter. Instantly a purple circle labelled “Blueberry.exe” pops onto your screen, right above Renamon’s waiting head.

yu awen't thinking awf doing w-what i twhink ur doing, are yu?

You are, and you’ll be doing it now. Blueberry.exe gets nommed by Renamon the same as all the others, but with a distinctly squishy eating effect. Before she has time to react Rena’s vibrant yellow fur is changing colors, sliding down a long gradient from orange to red to bright fuchsia until finally it hits a swimmingly violet shade of purple, one that isn’t unlike the color of grape jelly.

Renamon gulps, a noise that is quickly overtaken by the groaning of her entirety.

The fox’s legs and thighs are the first to go, bloating up to match her stomach at an astronomical rate. Her arms soon follow suit, and sudden Renamon looks downright obese compared to simply looking monstrously pregnant. Her tits *phwoomp* up like bags of popcorn, while her face takes on a distinctly sloshy chubbiness that can only be recognized as the result of a very peculiar condition. All of Renamon is sloshing hard, really; it seems that all of sudden her guts aren’t just full of your run-of-the-mill data heap…

“ *BWURP* I’ll gets yu foe thwis, bahstard! I dohn’t wanna be a big damn bewwy!”

Luckily for you it’s not her choice to make. Renaberry’s filled out dramatically now, her curves enveloping her limbs and turning her as round as a jawbreaker. Her contents jiggle and crash around within her like waves, juice slushing around like it’s trying to jump-start evaporation. All that liquid’s stretching her innards to a breaking point, ballooning her out bigger, and bigger, and bigger. The unfortunate digital assistant now demands her own digital airspace, taking up a solid half of your computer screen and then some. Files are knocked off their grid as Renamon begins to grow over them, and your bottom taskbar is beginning to noticeable warp underneath her increasingly swollen footpaws. You’ve heard of computers struggling to run applications but this is ridiculous! Nevertheless you speed up the process by spawning several more copies of Blueberry.exe, cursor launching them like softballs into Renamon’s mouth until the poor ui element is pinned by Rena’s blimping girth.

Your computer’s really sputtering and shaking now. Renamon’s starting to outgrow the entire screen, with only her ballooned muzzle visible amid a sea of purple fat. You can make out her paws uselessly flapping against the remnants of her gloves, and maybe streaks of juice leaking out of her nipples, but other than that you have no visual on the full body part of this full-body experience. Renamon’s in hysterics, further helped along by the fizzy belches escaping her muzzle every second. She’s a perfect sphere of blueberry juice and cellulite, and she’s about to give you a piece of her mind:

“w-w-what has you d-done…”

What have you done? You can hear a distinct crackling coming from not your speakers, but from the computer itself. It sounds like something’s trying to break through from the inside, and you’re scared to realize just what that means. One by one cracks appear on the computer’s screen, the monitor’s display struggling to handle this much Rena at once. Instantly the computer bluescreens, and then for a second the display goes black.

And then it’s as if someone detonated an inflatable life raft from inside your monitor. Rena’s decidedly non-chibi-but-still-very-doughy body begins to pour from your computer at every angle until finally the plastic hull of the computer screen gives up and explodes outward, pelting your dumb ass with computer parts. The digiblimp begins to inflate like a waterbed in fast-motion, spilling out from its impossible space all over your desktop until the damn thing collapses in a heap. Rena’s still growing, though, and soon you’re forced to back away and let her fall play out in its entirety. By the end of it, your basement is now home to a 8 foot tall digital balloon that’s moored on her back like an upside-down turtle…

…and that upside down kitsune is leaking from a very special place. Renamon’s pussy is sopping wet, a mixture of blueberry juices and her own special brand’s flowing from where you’d assume her crotch would be. Given the waterbed-like nature of her form right now, that places her snatch right at crotch-level (even though she’s laying on her back). You hear Renamon’s sore voice from behind her bulk just as you make the obvious connection:

“If you go down on me right now I’ll pretend nothing happened.”

Well, you don’t need to be told twice. Ripping your pants off, you expose your massive erection to the world (and don’t lie to me, you’ve had one this entire time :3) and immediately climb aboard, slamming your cock into that babbling brook and sending a cavalcade of guttural moans through her system at the same time. The kitsune can only rock back and forth in motion with you as you pound her, rubbing her drum-tight walls with the intensity of a power drill. Gradually the moans dissolve into gas, as burping once again becomes Rena’s primary method of communication.

“Ohhhhhhh, yes! *BWURRRRRRPPPP* Give it all to me, make me your fruity bitch!”

With each thrust it’s as if you’re sending another puff of juice into Renamon’s hide, gassing her up and distending her comical form out even further. She’s already tighter than any waterbed on the market, but with your orgasms building up her pressure’s become truly obscene. You swear you’re starting to feel tight as her fingers and toes swell up one last time like grapes on a vine. Her ears puff out and her eyes strain; even her belly button has fwimph-ed out like a pop top on a soda can. With juice building up in literally every last place it can, you hit max speed and ram her with all your might. With one last thunderous slap you hit the cusp of a massive climax, spraying her pussy with rope after rope of pure semen…

***KA-BLOOSH***

...It’s a large load, one that proves to be just a bit more liquid than Renamon can handle. The Digiberry plaps open like a freshly squeezed fruit, flooding the basement with blueberry juice and sending scraps of Renamon flying everywhere. You just manage to avoid landing painfully as the sweet tide carries you across the floor, bathing you in many kinds of juices and reuniting yourself with the ruined bits of computer that worked so valiantly to prevent a disaster like this.

Forcing your tired self to your feet, you realize that a very regular-looking Renamon’s currently flush in the middle of the room, having reformed quite easily (possibly thanks to the sheer amount of fruity health she had just contained). She’s practically dry heaving, and glaring daggers at you.

“N-n-next time…” she pants, “I’m stuffing you in the damn computer instead…”

With that said, the tired kitsune kneels over and passes out in the fruity muck. You briefly wonder how much the various repair bills are going to cost to clean this all up, and as a result you soon join her unconscious on the floor.