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As much as he squirms and sucks it in, he can't stop eating the cakes, the meeting droning on and on, the buttons popping...\n\n...and all hell breaking loose.\n\nLucky he has his buck to look after him when he gets back home!\n\n\n\n---\n\n\n\nThis is a story that I have really been looking forward to sharing with everyone and I really hope you'll get as much from it as I did in writing it! Here, Gehart, a stag with a round to his gut, finds it more and more difficult to lose weight despite his diet. Is he cursed? Curses aren't real, surely not, but sometimes there is no other explanation for the horror of all that is happening to him as his partner, Khen, lusts for him all the more as he bulges out and out and out, gaining so much weight so quickly that he is no longer recognisable...\n\nThis is inspired by and an erotic parody, of course, of Thinner, commissioned by the lovely Khendar over on Furaffinity who has been an absolute pleasure to work with throughout the entire process. You should definitely go follow them to see what their characters get up to in the future!\n\nLet me know what you think as we go through! This is an 80,000 word novel and has nineteen chapters in total. Each chapter will be posted up on a Friday until completion. I hope you very much enjoy it!\n\n\n\n---\n\n\n\nThis story has been available for early reading one to two months ago on SubscribeStar and Patreon (SubscribeStar contains extreme content while Patreon does not)! Please check the tiers on the following links if you would like to support!\n\nPatreon (no extreme content): https://www.patreon.com/arianmabe\n\nSubscribeStar (includes extreme content): https://subscribestar.adult/arian-mabe\n\n\n\nMy erotic eBooks are available on Kindle and Smashwords worldwide also!\n\nKindle (Alis Mitsy):\nhttps://www.amazon.com/dp/B07GLWQZFP\n\nSmashwords:\nhttps://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ArianMabe\n\n\nAs always, I am open for commissions starting at 30 GBP per 1,000 words - please e-mail arianmabe[at]gmail.com for more information or see my profile!\n\n\nStory © Amethyst Mare / Arian Mabe\nCharacter © respective owners\n","description_bbcode_parsed":"In a meeting, Gehart's shirt grows tighter and tighter, his pants straining to contain his buttocks, the fat rolls on his hips... As much as he squirms and sucks it in, he can't stop eating the cakes, the meeting droning on and on, the buttons popping...
...and all hell breaking loose.
Lucky he has his buck to look after him when he gets back home!
---
This is a story that I have really been looking forward to sharing with everyone and I really hope you'll get as much from it as I did in writing it! Here, Gehart, a stag with a round to his gut, finds it more and more difficult to lose weight despite his diet. Is he cursed? Curses aren't real, surely not, but sometimes there is no other explanation for the horror of all that is happening to him as his partner, Khen, lusts for him all the more as he bulges out and out and out, gaining so much weight so quickly that he is no longer recognisable...
This is inspired by and an erotic parody, of course, of Thinner, commissioned by the lovely Khendar over on Furaffinity who has been an absolute pleasure to work with throughout the entire process. You should definitely go follow them to see what their characters get up to in the future!
Let me know what you think as we go through! This is an 80,000 word novel and has nineteen chapters in total. Each chapter will be posted up on a Friday until completion. I hope you very much enjoy it!
---
This story has been available for early reading one to two months ago on SubscribeStar and Patreon (SubscribeStar contains extreme content while Patreon does not)! Please check the tiers on the following links if you would like to support!
Patreon (no extreme content): https://www.patreon.com/arianmabe
SubscribeStar (includes extreme content): https://subscribestar.adult/arian-mabe
My erotic eBooks are available on Kindle and Smashwords worldwide also!
Kindle (Alis Mitsy):
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07GLWQZFP
Smashwords:
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ArianMabe
As always, I am open for commissions starting at 30 GBP per 1,000 words - please e-mail arianmabe[at]gmail.com for more information or see my profile!
Story © Amethyst Mare / Arian Mabe
Character © respective owners
","writing":"Thicker\n\nChapter Four\n\n499\n\nThe stag huffed and puffed still as he arrived home, closing the door on his heels as if he was trying to keep out the demons of hell. But if there were any demons out there at all, they were only of the food persuasion. He'd had a hot dog for lunch, cheekily scarfing it down between meetings at work, though Gehart knew that he really shouldn't have. One hot dog should never have had so much of an effect but the end of the day found him drenched in sweat, soaking through his shirt, although that was partly because he'd had to run for home a couple of blocks away - the only space to park, for some reason, that he'd been able to find.\n\nAlas, his shirt had finally given up and his suit jacket too was a lost cause, though that had not even buttoned across his belly that morning, so it was not a total loss even if it would not fit. However, he could not deny any longer that he had fully-fledged moobs (who in the world thought up that term deserved to be strung up by their ankles) spilling out of his shirt, the buttons hanging on by mere threads. Of course, that did not mean that his decency was preserved as his belly spilt out and out, straining the buttons that were left while those that had given up the cost littered the street outside, perhaps even a few in the car itself. His pants only held on due to the belt, even though the leather itself cut into his stomach viciously, straining tighter and tighter as he grunted and tried to loosen it, not even wanting to see the state of his underwear.\n\nBut he had little choice in the matter as the mere shift of his weight split the seat of his pants completely between his legs, revealing his underwear in a burst of crimson shame. So glaring was the revelation that they could not even be hidden by pinching the edges of the fabric together, frozen in place, sucking his rumbling gut in to no avail. It had not been the day, not by a long shot, to wear the white boxers with red hearts on them (a joke gift, of course, from Khen) but he could only be ever so slightly thankful for the fact that they had not split until he'd made it back inside. His tail twitched and he turned his muzzle away from the dimly lit hallway mirror, not even wanting to see the state of himself as he swallowed a groan. It didn't deserve to have life breathed into it, not when he just wanted to be alone.\n\nAnd yet he could not seal away his concerns, each step he tried to make sending another button popping off or ripping his pants further, hardly able to move from how tightly he was restricted. Unable to stop himself, he cursed and swore out loud, not caring who heard him, hot with sickening humiliation, skin crawling, dripping where sweat all but poured down him. The curses flowed from his lips like water, like the very sweat flowing from him, too hot and heavy to do anything with himself, a snarled swear driving forth that was not like him, not like him one bit.\n\n``Fucking useless fucking clothes!'' He growled, dredging up every last bit of fury in his heart as he spat the words with due venom. ``Even this fucking...oh, for fuck's sake!''\n\nHis underwear could not even keep up, his fat buttocks pushing through the fabric as they gave up at long last with a rip and a tear, revealing his fur below. Damp and matted with sweat, he was most certainly a sight to be seen even as he howled, twisting and trying to cover himself up even as the stairs loomed before him, the privacy of the bedroom screaming at him to just go, go and hide, hide himself away where he didn't have to share how big he was getting with anyone else.\n\n``Gehart! What the hell's going on out here?''\n\nFuck it...\n\nOf course, he would have been a fool to forget that Khen was home and there to hear everything, rushing from the office with his paws flapping, entirely ineffectually. It was obvious that his Khen couldn't do anything but he tried anyway, hastening to help, tugging off Gehart's jacket, although it got stuck on the stag's meaty shoulders, the fat pads heavier there than they had ever been before. Gehart was larger and larger every day, easily dwarfing his smaller lover, though it only made the difference between them starker, Khen shivering as he helped, more than a little distracted as much as he tried to keep his thoughts to himself. Gehart's cheeks heated up with a blush that he would have much rather have kept to himself, but things were not that easy when he was half stuck in his clothes, bursting out of them like a sausage out of its skin.\n\nStill, it was nice that Khen tried to comfort him, saying that the clothes he'd bought him must have been bad quality, that he'd take them back to the shop for him after they'd been cleaned, that it was all going to be okay. As much as he struggled to help his grunting, swearing lover out of his clothes, the buck was gentle in his care for him, smoothing his paws over Gehart's shoulders as they rounded and shook, though the stag would never have revealed the strangled sobs to anyone but Khen. It was Khen and only Khen who got to see him at the lowest points of all the lows, when he wanted nothing more than to give up, the one who helped him up the stairs, holding up his pants so that he wouldn't trip over them, trying not to look like he was trying to cop a feel. \n\nGehart jumped as Khen snuck a kiss, grumbling under his breath, a few of the curses slipping away. Khen's paws grew bolder and bolder, sweeping over the rounds of his gurgling flesh as his stomach bulged out, demanding attention. And that attention was something that his buck would always give, soothing him softly, knowing all the right things to get Gehart to ease down, breathe a little more quietly with a soft smile given at just the right moment. Gehart's swearing may have died down but that only meant that he was locking it up inside, lips pressed tightly together as he fought with the belt, which was on the last hole.\n\nIt was Khen, however, who removed it for him, sliding it gently away as he helped Gehart sit back on the bed, the mattress creaking obnoxiously under his weight and startling another frustrated growl from the stag's lips. Hanging his head, he bumped Khen with his antlers but his lover did not even react as he scooted in close, putting an arm across Gehart's back (he couldn't get it all the way around him at his size) without even considering the matted, sweaty fur. What was a little sweat between partners, after all?\n\n``It's going to be okay,'' Khen murmured. ``What happened? Can you tell me what happened?''\n\nGehart took a deep breath. He was the only one that he could tell.\n\n*\n\nEarlier that day, Gehart had known that it was going to go south right from the point that he'd had trouble getting into his work attire for the day. His formal, smart wear just didn't sit right anymore, to say the least, shirt strained wide so that fur was visible between the buttons, gawping and strange. He had to wear it though as it was the largest one he had and he tried to mitigate the effect of not fitting into his clothes one little bit with huge, fatty shoulders and layers down his arms too by wearing his jacket open over the top. It didn't make much of a difference but, at least, it made him feel a little better.\n\nThe real issue came at work as his heaving chest strained and stressed the buttons of his shirt more and more the stairs residing to his back. The stairway was tighter and narrower than usual at work, although he would never have normally gone up there, considering the fact that they had elevators for convenience. They were much more useful, he had to admit, particularly when one was carrying a hot coffee or two (hey, they weren't many calories at all without cream or anything in them and gave him a good kick for the day) than the stairs, though sometimes the option was simply taken from him.\n\n``Damn it, god damn it...''\n\nHe pushed the stronger language that he really wanted to use to the back of his mind: work was neither the time nor the place for that! Although it was more and more tempting to let it all hang out, just like his gut, as he waddled, coffee held in both paws, chest heaving and wheezing as his lungs felt quite as if they were crackling with every breath. There wasn't as much coffee left in them as when he'd started, with most sloshed out over his paw and the cup holder, and he cursed, once again, the fact that the elevators were down, something that hadn't happened once, not even a single time, in his time of employment there.\n\nIt was strange, very strange, and he didn't want to consider it more as he sweated his way down the hall, popping into the bathroom only to find that that too was out of use. The cleaner glanced up at him, a slim and small feline with quivering whiskers, and he backed away hastily, uncomfortably aware of the size difference between them. His gut, however, bumped the sign to warn others of a wet floor on the way out, the yellow plastic sliding to the floor with a noisy clatter. She sighed and put her paws on her hips, glaring at him even as he tried, so very desperately, to back away without knocking anything else over.\n\n``Sorry!''\n\nBut just a sorry didn't always cut it when someone had their back up over him and he groaned to himself as he paused in the hallway, wedging his coffee into the pot of a fake plant that some dozy intern had still, yet again, managed to water. The bottom of the cups would be a bit damp by the time he got to his meeting but he had to adjust, had to fiddle with his belt, hopelessly try to smooth his hair back down from where it was surely sticking up in all directions. Yet his belt still dug in and cut in as if it was trying to saw him in two, the stag huffing and puffing back along his way, even a little bit of a waddle entering his step. It was more comfortable, in a strange way, but he was just glad to scoot inconspicuously into the meeting room, the long table of partially seated furs beckoning him in.\n\nHe breathed a sigh of relief: there were plenty of seats left and it would be easy to ensure he had enough space, a section of empty chairs at the end of the table beckoning him down. Wherever he perched, he would have a little more room than usual and that was always a very good thing.\n\nOf course, it went without saying that there was a plate of cakes in the middle of the table - the sort of finger food that one could pick up and nibble on, perhaps not quite daintily - during a long meeting. Although Gehart's eyes immediately zeroed in on the food, he clamped his lips together as if against temptation, even shaking his head as he wiped off his damp, coffee-stained paw on the inside of his jacket, trying to be as discreet as possible. No one was looking...but he still had his diet to stick to. But did it really count if no one saw him swipe a cake?\n\nWhile the others mingled and chattered lightly, he exchanged a smile with someone from another department, attempting, at least, to appear calm and in control despite his current state. He didn't need the bathroom to fix his appearance and instead triumphantly pulled out his phone to use ``selfie mode'' to fix his hair. Indeed, it did stick up in all directions but he had to try anyway, smoothing it down more carefully, tucking a little back behind his ears. It would have to do but he did have to hold his paw out in front of him a little more just to get his whole muzzle in the frame, his round face no longer quite seeming like his anymore.\n\nGehart flinched but a quick glance around told him that no one was paying him any attention, which was just as well, his appearance as fixed as it could be as he put the phone away and shifted his position on the chair. They were a little more robust in the meeting room, which he was thankful for, as they had to cater to all kinds of guests as a host there; it would not have done to have anyone be uncomfortable there when they may have been looking to do business to the company, which suited Gehart just fine. Where he was, he could spread his legs a little with room to spare, his arms spaced apart as if to show off the thickly meaty lines of them, paws comically small at the end, although he told himself that that was just the angle at which he saw his paws. He wasn't that big, no... No, he wasn't all that large.\n\nThe seats were wider too and better-suited for him, though the fat of his buttocks still spilt over the edge: at his size, that just wasn't something that could be helped but he tried not to think of it as hard as it was. The seat squeaked lightly beneath him and he smiled, knowing, for once, that he didn't have to worry about a seat like that, for he was not that bad, no, not at all. Actually, he was so good that he could have one of the cakes on the table, reaching for it quickly as if he thought he could fly under the radar.\n\nHe hadn't meant to, not really, but the cake was in his mouth, crumbs on his fur before the stag even felt that he could react, making a soft murmur of appreciation even around the mouthful of food. There was pink and yellow in the cake but all he could taste was sugary sweetness, no flavour attached, the meeting room filling up as some of the newer employees and someone from another site looked him up and down.\n\n``Jared,'' a stoat side, impossibly slender with a shrewd expression. ``Pleasure to meet you.''\n\nDusting off the crumbs, Gehart smiled widely and rose to meet the stoat but the other fur backed off a step, although he had the generosity to make it appear as if he was just allowing room for others to move into the room, seating themselves.\n\n``Gehart,'' the stag said, pushing the conversation on as he took the stoat's limp paw. ``You'll enjoy it here! Did you only start this last week?''\n\nIt was not the usual way of things, at least not for him, but Gehart could only blink and shrug as the stoat mumbled something and slunk away. Now that he was paying attention to more than just trying to make his appearance somewhat sufficient, he could take in that others were shooting him sidelong glances too, looking him up and down as if there was something that he was missing. Did he not look okay?\n\nGehart grimaced, greeting a couple of others that he knew, itching to reach for his phone. It had to be him, had to be his hair. Maybe his beard was a little too long, making him seem rough and unkempt but, well, it was too late to worry about that (even if he was going to anyway) as the boss came in, a burly bear with a gut that Gehart had once thought was large but now paled in comparison to his. \n\nA hello here and a nod there, a pleasant smile through which he sweated profusely. Eyes slid off him and he exhaled softly, his gut pushing out against the buttons of his shirt, straining more and more with every second that, so very tenaciously, dared to pass. Gehart tuned out the speaker, something that he had heard before in other pointless meetings, pressing the tips of his fingers together as he tried, at the very least, to appear as if he was paying attention. His chair did not swing so he could not fidget in that way but that was all by the by as he smiled pleasantly, everything about him soft and pleasant, so very pleasant, the taste of sugary sweet cake still lingering in his mouth.\n\nWould another be all that bad? It wasn't cheating on his diet, not really, if he didn't log it on his app, he was sure, and his paw was halfway to the plate again when a white cat anthro, whose name he could not say he knew, warily eyed him, her gaze lingering a little too long to be entirely innocent. But he was not the type of fur that gleaned himself admiring looks from colleagues, not even when he'd hit a particularly challenging goal and his overzealous direct manager commended him in public, duly suspicious. What was wrong? What was her problem?\n\nAs if defiantly, he locked eyes with her, a squirm of wicked glee rumbling in the swell of his gut, taking another cake and plopping it into his mouth whole. Chewing slowly, his forced eye-contract drove her to look away, Gehart's stomach gurgling triumphantly, though the stag barely knew what battle he thought he'd won.\n\nIt's just a cake...\n\nBut it was never just a cake and Gehart was a fool for thinking that. The speaker droned on about potential growth earnings (Gehart knew that they were not feasible) and Gehart shifted in his seat, the substantial chair squeaking under him again. They really needed to fix that, it was a little annoying. The projector lit up and he blinked in the glare of it, some graph that, yet again, he'd seen before popping into fading existence, blurring at the edges. It needed replacing but the bigger, better meeting room was taken up by another meeting that had got in ahead of them. Maybe there would have been a bit more room for him in that one. \n\nHe should have been happy to simply catch his breath in peace and relax for a moment, even if he could well have been paying better attention, the strain growing and growing across his stomach and chest. Maybe it was his fault for not paying attention to anything much, not even to himself, but the pressure was there, a rising thrum and strain that not even he should have been able to ignore. And yet it was so very commonly said too that ignorance was bliss and he chuckled under his breath, eyes half-lidded and heavy, weighing him down with the chaos of the days, and even the weeks too, that had preceded that one meeting.\n\nThe pink and yellow sugar-laden cake sat heavily in his stomach, even though it had only been one cake - that he'd counted, of course. Just one: that was what he always told himself, regardless of how many had passed into his mouth, chewed up and sweetly sliding down into the pit of his ever-hungry stomach. As his stomach growled, however, Gehart would come to know that one cake could be too much and one, regardless of how many cakes that lie of ``one'' actually was, would never be enough.\n\nCrumbs toppled down his shirt and the hill of his belly like hikers failing to traverse slopes that were beyond their capability, chewing as sugar flooded his mouth, a pleasant hit of sweetness, sliding down his throat as something tightened across him like a seatbelt. What was that? What was he doing? He didn't think about it, chewing reflexively, barely tuned in. He reached for another one, the plate almost empty, his eyes glassy and unfocused, but little did he know what he was setting in motion, his stomach yawning and swelling, fatter and yet emptier than ever at the same time. The sensation was out of place and he sat up a little straight, yet it was that tiny, little action that set off a chain reaction, the sensation of bulging, pushing out, growing more and more urgent as Gehart shifted and, without thinking, scratched his stomach.\n\nPing!\n\nWhat on earth was that? Something knocked against the underside of the table but he was so squashed in with his stomach pressed up to the edge of it that he couldn't see, heaving and grunting very lightly, trying to be discreet. Nobody else seemed to have noticed the strange noise, however, and so he tried to concentrate, gulping down the leftover crumbs of cake from his muzzle, a pink sweep of tongue catching them from his lips.\n\nThe strain across his stomach increased and he tried to suck in his gut, thinking that there were still eyes on him. He had to be imagining it, really, but things weren't quite right there still, bulging and pushing and yearning for a break, a respite from the overly tight confines of his clothes. Like a prisoner striving to break free, his belly pushed out and out, straining between the buttons of his shirt, his brown fur showing through like fingers between bars.\n\n``And in the third quarter...''\n\nGoodness, could they not get through the presentation any quicker? Gehart frowned and slid down another notch, a popping noise bursting forth, three quick pops one after the other in swift succession. Again, he ignored it, shifting his weight to a more comfortable position, though the pops only increased, Gehart turning his head one way and then the other as if that would, somehow, reveal the source of the strange noise to him. Others noticed it too and he half-shrugged as if to say he didn't know what it was either, questing noses twitching as other more astute furs sought to suss it out.\n\nYet the rising staccato could not possibly be ignored at such a pace and Gehart gasped, suddenly realising with a sickening shock of horror as the stoat who had backed off from him earlier locked eyes on him, though not with his eyes. Blood roared in Gehart's ears and his jaw dropped but everything happened so quickly, his world slowing down while everything around him speeded up, the coolness of the plastic seat caressing his buttocks as his breath caught, wanting to stop the course of events but, horrifically, finding himself unable to.\n\nHis pants! Well, not actually his underwear but his work pants, well...no... Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no! He tried to press his hips down but that only made the problem worse, his pants tearing open right across the buttocks as the leather belt sawed into his belly, sweat dampening marks even between his thighs. If he stayed perfectly still, would they not notice it? Could he get away with it? Oh, good lord!\n\n``And, at the climax of this year, we are expecting explosive growth to occur, particularly in...''\n\nHe couldn't concentrate, Gehart sweating, not even listening, muzzle slack and eyes screwed up, narrowed into slits that he hoped would not be noticeable. And yet there were so many other things for them to notice, the crowd of colleagues and people that he was supposed to be impressing, though there was a rather large impression that he was destined to leave on them that particular day. He stayed as still as he possibly could but, alas, there was nothing he could do to stop the inevitable from happening, glancing down with a gulp of horror only to find the gaps between his shirt buttons widening more and more with every passing second.\n\nNo...\n\nHis shirt strained more, yawning grotesquely, flesh spilling between the buttons. One had already popped off - that must have been what hit up under the table to begin with!\n\nIt was only one cake...\n\nHis pants tore all the way up under his tail, straining to hold his thick buttocks, flesh pushing out, his body no longer to be constrained by the fabric that he was forced to wear, forced to don.\n\nOkay, maybe two cakes...\n\nEven if it had not been two cakes, that was what he had told himself it was. So many had passed down his throat but they still should never have caused such a scene and the stag was left suppressing a groan, straining out and out and out as his belly bulged as if he was just then releasing a breath that he had been holding for too long. He couldn't suck it in any longer, not even as the speaker went on and on about their broadening reach and expanding their brand, all that they would need to do going forward, though Gehart didn't think he could do anything about the forward in the company any more. He was stuck, trapped right where he was, a prey to the whims of his body as more and more fur poked out between the buttons of his shirt, one after the other ripping free, one shooting across into the arm of another fur that he dared not look over at.\n\n``Ow!''\n\nGehart flushed heavily, ducking his head. It did not excuse him.\n\nMuch more than two cakes...\n\n``There will most certainly be inflation too to be taken into account in the first half of next year...''\n\nInflation! If he'd been in any other situation, Gehart may have laughed but he could not as the pops continued, his shirt giving up the ghost as he swallowed a whimper and closed his ears to the creaking of his belt, the horror of his gut bulging out, the terror of it all. He couldn't stop it, could not do a damn thing to escape the humiliation of the situation that he had found himself sweltering in, sweat marking patches under his arms that he hoped too would remain hidden even as his seams began to tear.\n\nThose began slowly, ripping down the length, one thread at a time as if his body was trying to drag out the embarrassment of it all for as long as possible. But not even the stag in question could deny that everything was far, far beyond any kind of control, though he sank in his seat as much as possible, imagining that he was bypassing any kind of attention, a sausage bursting out of its skin, fat and heavy and, as always, thick. \n\nYet he was no such delicious morsel to be enjoyed and he tried to keep a perfectly polite, perfectly normal, smile plastered across his muzzle, oddly beatific and soulless, something that could slip away at a moment's notice. His seams prickled and strained and popped and he tried to ignore it all, to act simply as if nothing was happening, breathing shortly and harshly, breath rasping through his throat.\n\nNo one was looking. And yet everyone saw.\n\nHe counted down the seconds as the speaker closed, the name of the fur eluding him. He faked something, looking down and shuffling, playing with his cold coffee cups, only a few of his buttons left on his shirt as he tried to angle his jacket just so, allowing it to hide most of it. It was the most he could do right then and there to hide what was happening, even if everyone was in the loop and nothing at all had passed by the notice of his colleagues, breathing slowly and shallowly as if he did not have the energy left to keep on drawing air into his lungs. He didn't have to look up as no one was about to make eye contact with him right there and then, shuffling away and filing out as if they simply could not acknowledge the elephant in the room, even though he was actually a stag.\n\nHe dared to take a larger breath, pushing out his stomach a little more as the last fur left the room (he didn't bother turning around to see just who that was), though that was to his demise as the middle button sprang free as if escaping the mortal coils of his shirt. It flung itself forth and skittered across the table but that one was the undoing of the end, the others dangling, straining, yet still clinging on for dear life.\n\nGehart gulped. It was time to go.\n\nAnd that was just how he'd ended up darting out to his car as fast as his increasingly chubby legs could carry him, one paw trying to cover his stomach and the other holding his briefcase (so rarely used) over his buttocks. \n\nIt was the longest walk of his life.\n\n*\n\n``That sounds so dreadful, darling...''\n\nKhen soothed him the best he could as Gehart told his story. The smaller deer had listened to his whole, sorry tale, grumbling through it, though he calmed as his partner's paws swept gently over him, easing away the aches and pains of the day.\n\n``It was humiliating, just lucky it was at the end of the day, that everyone else was going home too... I don't think anyone saw me.''\n\n``Don't worry,'' Khen hushed him softly. ``It's okay, no one saw you. No one would even notice a thing there, don't worry.''\n\n``But what will they think of me?''\n\nGehart would always worry about things like that, his concerns lying with what others thought of his size, his figure, so many taunts still rising forth from his younger days. It was harder still though for Khen to remove Gehart's belt, the leather drawn so taut that he had to dig further into Gehart's flesh to unbuckle it, although even that seemed too much in the moment. It was uncomfortable and the stag could not help but grunt, trying to suck in his enlarging belly as he was, so very kindly, undressed.\n\nBut his partner was just who he needed to take care of him right then as Khen coaxed him softly with the lightest of presses of his paws to lie back on the bed, relaxing while he did the work for him. Still heaving and sweaty, Gehart was only too happy, at least as happy as he could be, to let him do his work, to look after him, to care for him, sliding down his pants as the belt came free at last, the sticking point on the leather finally giving up the ghost.\n\n``There we go... Don't worry about anything, okay, hon?''\n\nKhen's gentle paws were softly soothing and Gehart could not have asked for anything else right there and then, Khen pulling away the remnants of his shirt too so that he was left in nothing more than his underwear. Those did not serve to do anything at all to hide the bulge of his shaft, however, resting on his crotch, even though his rolling gut did more to hide it than anything else in such a position.\n\nThat wasn't going to stop Khen from making his lover's day just a little bit better, however, nuzzling softly under his gut as he pushed it up lightly, holding it reverently in his paws. The smaller buck would never have claimed to not adore larger body figures and shapes but there was something about seeing his partner grow larger and larger that stoked a deeply rooted need within him. He groaned softly as he drew Gehart's underwear down, the red hearts allowing him a moment of a smile, the flesh clinging to the fabric as if it was loathe to give up its grasp on something that it had only been splitting away from but a mere moment ago.\n\n``Hm...'' Gehart twisted, trying to look down his body at his lover, though there were only the small antlers, which Khen kept short for him, to catch sight of. ``What...''\n\nBut he didn't need to say any more than that as Gehart groaned, slumping back against the bed, the mattress soft and welcoming beneath him. It was where he wanted to be, where he needed to be, and it was too tempting to just stay there, right where he was, as Khen gently kept his stag's belly lifted, his muzzle on his cock, lips and nose twitching over his hardening shaft. Gehart panted, letting out a moan, stomach rumbling and seeming to rise even more, pushing against Khen's paws as if it wanted to get in the way. It didn't take any time at all for him to harden up with that sweet muzzle caressing and teasing his length, even if it had been unexpected.\n\nGehart groaned, antlers digging into the bed as he pushed his head back, a paw thrown up beside his rounder, plumper muzzle, grasping the sheets. He caught sight of that paw in the corner of his eye, even that being thicker and meatier than before, fingers like sausages coming to life where, before, they had at least been a little slimmer. Who knew that paws could even change like that?\n\nHis stomach rumbled lightly, reminding him of the busy day he'd had, the lack of snacks. He was surely under on his calorie goals and he groaned out loud, letting Khen's sweet muzzle chase away the stress and troubles of the day. Those lips knew just what to do, closing around and tugging lightly at the very tip of his shaft, lapping and swirling, pushing down his length to tease at what more was to come.\n\n``Oh... Oh, that feels good...''\n\nOf course, Khen knew his body, in that way, better than even he knew himself, even trembling there, fat and whale-like in his manner. \n\n``Mmm... You don't need to do this, you know,'' he breathed, though it was harder and harder to get the words out as Khen's muzzle slipped down more and more, slowly and tentatively engulfing his length. ``It's...ah...okay... Oh... Oh, Khen...''\n\nYet not even he could ever have possibly have held back a whine of pure, raw appreciation, pounding more eagerly than ever before. It was hard to think about anything else but just how good his buck's lips felt on his cock, pushing over the head, slurping down his length. Khen moaned around him, hardly shy about taking him deep up into his muzzle, knowing the lengths of his shaft like the other best things in his life. He groaned and grunted and Gehart's sounds of appreciation matched his, the stag wriggling as much as he could on the bed, sheets twisting and rumpling up beneath his body even as the bulk of his belly strained to keep him down, pinned where he needed to be.\n\nHe shouldn't worry. It was too much to worry. Gehart groaned, his cock throbbing, seeming to twitch more within his lover's mouth than it ever had done before, every tiny, little sensation heightened, ramped up in line with his need. Every last nerve-ending in his body quivered with desire as he moaned open-mouthed, his eyes half-lidded, though any complaints and protests that may have slipped from his lips fell on deaf ears - even his own! He wasn't even listening to himself as Khen slowly and lovingly bobbed his head on his cock, taking him deeper and deeper, the fleshiness of his tongue pressing up to the underside of Gehart's smooth length.\n\nIt had been a bad day and it was about time that he let it all go, he told himself, groaning softly. Better to relax there, to let Khen do his best work on him. If there was one thing he knew about the buck too, it was that he liked nothing better than to have a fat length of stag-meat in his muzzle, slurping and suckling, his cheeks hollowing a little more just to better suck on that length. He needed it, Gehart knew that too, and there was nowhere else that either of them would have preferred to be than in the positions they were in right there and then.\n\nSometimes...one didn't have to mess with perfection.\n\nWhy it had happened so swiftly, however, was another question indeed and the answer came as a dollop of pre-cum flowed forth, splattering lewdly into the back of his maw. His buck suckled wantonly, bobbing his head softly, speeding up, though he knew how far and how fast he could go as Gehart lusted for him, rumbling a growl that would have not befitted a deer - except for the fact that the deer in question was, of course, Gehart himself. The stag could do anything and own it...besides his weight. That was just the one thing that forever had held him back in many different ways during his life.\n\nBut that question remained, what made him huff and puff and try to push his head and torso up, the rise of his gut blocking out most of Khen still as if his belly didn't want him to see what was going on, despite the rise of his antlers. That didn't mean that he couldn't feel his buck's mouth around his shaft through, drawing him deep up into the back of his muzzle as he swallowed, savouring every last, lustful inch.\n\nAround his length, Khen moaned, the subtle vibrations travelling up Gehart's shaft even as his paw dropped, seeking out the stag, sliding over his short hair, though it required a trim again already. \n\n``You didn't seriously...'' He chuckled to himself, not expecting an answer as his paw closed around the buck's antler. ``You didn't actually...get turned on from...ah...fuck...the story?''\n\nOf course, there was only one answer that his little buck could give and that came in the heat of his cheeks, moaning louder still around his cock. Khen wouldn't say anything, for that would mean having to let go of his partner's shaft, but he could show him in other ways, paws sliding up over Gehart's thick thighs, meaty logs, as he bobbed his head more and more quickly. The stag grunted in the back of his throat, licking his lips, need rising. Such a light touch made him want his buck all the more, a touch of dominance pressing on the back of his mind much as his stomach pressed down on him at all times.\n\nGehart tightened his grip on Khen's antler, controlling how much he could bob his head, as he could not thrust up from such a position. A groan rolled from his lips, the most he could either do or say at such time, losing himself in the moment as his fat rolls jiggled, Khen barely even holding up his gut any more but letting it rest on his head softly, in front of his antlers. With Gehart holding his antlers, guiding his muzzle, he didn't have to worry about harming his lover, the points of his antlers smoothly dulled and rounded too so that they could not hurt anyone. \n\n``Yeah, buck, keep going...''\n\nGehart grunted, forcing the words out as he rubbed Khen's head, running his fingers lightly through his hair. He had to reach around and over the swell of his belly to get down to Khen's muzzle but that was the least of his worries when he groaned deep in the back of his throat, needing more, rocking his hips, grinding up the best he could. Around his cock, Khen moaned and sucked him deep up into the back of his mouth, tongue swirling, suckling at the tip whenever he was allowed to draw back enough to please the most sensitive part of Gehart's length.\n\n``Just like that...''\n\nHe couldn't have held back and didn't want to hold back, each bob of Khen's muzzle drawing a grunt from his lips, silencing the words that he yearned to spill. Yet they were still there, desperate to be freed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he panted, body heating up, though it was impossible to discern what sweat was fresh where his fur had already been soaked. The erotic note of it, however, swept away even the trauma and trouble of all that had, earlier, come to pass, gritting his teeth and hissing through them as he growled and grunted, heaving for the release that was still yet to come.\n\nThose lips... Oh, how he needed it even more, moaning loudly, head spinning, twisting back and forth, hips rocking, though he could not thrust all that much. He needed it too much and he thrust the buck's head down, holding him there even as Khen struggled and gulped anxiously around the head of his cock.\n\n``Oh...'' He groaned, trying to wiggle his hooves down for purchase so that he could arch up, not having the strength left in his abs to do it any other way. ``Almost there... Come on, finish me off, lad, come on.''\n\nBut his climax was coming either way, a whimpering moan rising forth in a heady grunt, sounds of raw, ardent pleasure thrusting themselves forth in a way that could never have been held back. His groan of relief, softening overly tense muscles, came with the bliss of climax, cock throbbing, pulsing.\n\nHe held Khen's head down even as some of his seed bubbled up fruitfully from the corners of Khen's lips, not even the gulping, swallowing buck able to keep it all within his mouth or forced down his throat. Khen was not about to give up though as he stayed obediently right where he was put, the only sign of tension in his body the digging in of his fingers into Gehart's thighs, though the dimples they formed were still hardly noticeable in the grand scope of his flesh.\n\n``Ah... Whoa...''\n\nGehart moaned out loud, chuckling lightly, the base of his member wet as the thought of filling Khen too - from a very particular entrance of his - slipped into his mind. The buck, truly, was the only one he wanted with him and that was most certainly evidenced by just how Khen was able to make him feel more like himself again after such a dreadful day, a humiliating day, had come to pass.\n\nEventually, however, he had to lift his paws again and flip them back over his head with a throaty grunt, Khen gasping as a softening length of meat slipped from his muzzle. Khen was forced to drag in breath after needy breath where he had, before, not been permitted to breathe, even if it had been himself that had kept his filled muzzle from breathing. Gehart growled softly, loving how his buck gulped and gulped, imagining that it was because he just didn't want a drop of his cum to go to waste. No, Khen was not one to waste, still gasping as he squirmed up alongside Gehart with a dopey grin on his muzzle, eyes falling heavier and heavier, half-lidded at best.\n\nGehart's arm snaked around him, pulling him against him, tight and safe and warm, where the two of them needed to be, two bodies pressed together. Even with his fat quivering, not seeming a part of his true and real body anymore, Gehart could not have wanted anything else, moaning softly. Dreamily, Gehart's paw ran down his buck's body to his belly just to feel how much he had poured into his, stomach bloated out with Gehart's seed, though nowhere near as much as Gehart's bulky swell.\n\nKhen's stomach bloated out lightly, soft and plump and yet still not as firmly fleshy as what Gehart boasted. It was a different kind of softness to be found there and Gehart pressed his arm more firmly over the buck's stomach, holding him close, a soft murmur of appreciation rumbling up from the pit of his belly.\n\n``That...''\n\nHe meant to voice his appreciation but they knew what one another meant, what they wanted to say, pushing in close to one another as they dozed, slipping down into the realm of sleep, a teasingly light tickle of lure drawing him down and down and down. Khen was right there with him, of course, his lover's paw pressed into his gut as he stroked and stroked, feeling just how full of his seed he was.\n\nNothing could have been more perfect. And, yet, there was still someone or something there set to spoil the moment.\n\nOn the edge of sleep, Gehart twitched, nose quivering.\n\n``Thicker...''\n\nThat word would follow him into his nightmares. \n\n","writing_bbcode_parsed":"Thicker
Chapter Four
499
The stag huffed and puffed still as he arrived home, closing the door on his heels as if he was trying to keep out the demons of hell. But if there were any demons out there at all, they were only of the food persuasion. He'd had a hot dog for lunch, cheekily scarfing it down between meetings at work, though Gehart knew that he really shouldn't have. One hot dog should never have had so much of an effect but the end of the day found him drenched in sweat, soaking through his shirt, although that was partly because he'd had to run for home a couple of blocks away - the only space to park, for some reason, that he'd been able to find.
Alas, his shirt had finally given up and his suit jacket too was a lost cause, though that had not even buttoned across his belly that morning, so it was not a total loss even if it would not fit. However, he could not deny any longer that he had fully-fledged moobs (who in the world thought up that term deserved to be strung up by their ankles) spilling out of his shirt, the buttons hanging on by mere threads. Of course, that did not mean that his decency was preserved as his belly spilt out and out, straining the buttons that were left while those that had given up the cost littered the street outside, perhaps even a few in the car itself. His pants only held on due to the belt, even though the leather itself cut into his stomach viciously, straining tighter and tighter as he grunted and tried to loosen it, not even wanting to see the state of his underwear.
But he had little choice in the matter as the mere shift of his weight split the seat of his pants completely between his legs, revealing his underwear in a burst of crimson shame. So glaring was the revelation that they could not even be hidden by pinching the edges of the fabric together, frozen in place, sucking his rumbling gut in to no avail. It had not been the day, not by a long shot, to wear the white boxers with red hearts on them (a joke gift, of course, from Khen) but he could only be ever so slightly thankful for the fact that they had not split until he'd made it back inside. His tail twitched and he turned his muzzle away from the dimly lit hallway mirror, not even wanting to see the state of himself as he swallowed a groan. It didn't deserve to have life breathed into it, not when he just wanted to be alone.
And yet he could not seal away his concerns, each step he tried to make sending another button popping off or ripping his pants further, hardly able to move from how tightly he was restricted. Unable to stop himself, he cursed and swore out loud, not caring who heard him, hot with sickening humiliation, skin crawling, dripping where sweat all but poured down him. The curses flowed from his lips like water, like the very sweat flowing from him, too hot and heavy to do anything with himself, a snarled swear driving forth that was not like him, not like him one bit.
``Fucking useless fucking clothes!'' He growled, dredging up every last bit of fury in his heart as he spat the words with due venom. ``Even this fucking...oh, for fuck's sake!''
His underwear could not even keep up, his fat buttocks pushing through the fabric as they gave up at long last with a rip and a tear, revealing his fur below. Damp and matted with sweat, he was most certainly a sight to be seen even as he howled, twisting and trying to cover himself up even as the stairs loomed before him, the privacy of the bedroom screaming at him to just go, go and hide, hide himself away where he didn't have to share how big he was getting with anyone else.
``Gehart! What the hell's going on out here?''
Fuck it...
Of course, he would have been a fool to forget that Khen was home and there to hear everything, rushing from the office with his paws flapping, entirely ineffectually. It was obvious that his Khen couldn't do anything but he tried anyway, hastening to help, tugging off Gehart's jacket, although it got stuck on the stag's meaty shoulders, the fat pads heavier there than they had ever been before. Gehart was larger and larger every day, easily dwarfing his smaller lover, though it only made the difference between them starker, Khen shivering as he helped, more than a little distracted as much as he tried to keep his thoughts to himself. Gehart's cheeks heated up with a blush that he would have much rather have kept to himself, but things were not that easy when he was half stuck in his clothes, bursting out of them like a sausage out of its skin.
Still, it was nice that Khen tried to comfort him, saying that the clothes he'd bought him must have been bad quality, that he'd take them back to the shop for him after they'd been cleaned, that it was all going to be okay. As much as he struggled to help his grunting, swearing lover out of his clothes, the buck was gentle in his care for him, smoothing his paws over Gehart's shoulders as they rounded and shook, though the stag would never have revealed the strangled sobs to anyone but Khen. It was Khen and only Khen who got to see him at the lowest points of all the lows, when he wanted nothing more than to give up, the one who helped him up the stairs, holding up his pants so that he wouldn't trip over them, trying not to look like he was trying to cop a feel.
Gehart jumped as Khen snuck a kiss, grumbling under his breath, a few of the curses slipping away. Khen's paws grew bolder and bolder, sweeping over the rounds of his gurgling flesh as his stomach bulged out, demanding attention. And that attention was something that his buck would always give, soothing him softly, knowing all the right things to get Gehart to ease down, breathe a little more quietly with a soft smile given at just the right moment. Gehart's swearing may have died down but that only meant that he was locking it up inside, lips pressed tightly together as he fought with the belt, which was on the last hole.
It was Khen, however, who removed it for him, sliding it gently away as he helped Gehart sit back on the bed, the mattress creaking obnoxiously under his weight and startling another frustrated growl from the stag's lips. Hanging his head, he bumped Khen with his antlers but his lover did not even react as he scooted in close, putting an arm across Gehart's back (he couldn't get it all the way around him at his size) without even considering the matted, sweaty fur. What was a little sweat between partners, after all?
``It's going to be okay,'' Khen murmured. ``What happened? Can you tell me what happened?''
Gehart took a deep breath. He was the only one that he could tell.
*
Earlier that day, Gehart had known that it was going to go south right from the point that he'd had trouble getting into his work attire for the day. His formal, smart wear just didn't sit right anymore, to say the least, shirt strained wide so that fur was visible between the buttons, gawping and strange. He had to wear it though as it was the largest one he had and he tried to mitigate the effect of not fitting into his clothes one little bit with huge, fatty shoulders and layers down his arms too by wearing his jacket open over the top. It didn't make much of a difference but, at least, it made him feel a little better.
The real issue came at work as his heaving chest strained and stressed the buttons of his shirt more and more the stairs residing to his back. The stairway was tighter and narrower than usual at work, although he would never have normally gone up there, considering the fact that they had elevators for convenience. They were much more useful, he had to admit, particularly when one was carrying a hot coffee or two (hey, they weren't many calories at all without cream or anything in them and gave him a good kick for the day) than the stairs, though sometimes the option was simply taken from him.
``Damn it, god damn it...''
He pushed the stronger language that he really wanted to use to the back of his mind: work was neither the time nor the place for that! Although it was more and more tempting to let it all hang out, just like his gut, as he waddled, coffee held in both paws, chest heaving and wheezing as his lungs felt quite as if they were crackling with every breath. There wasn't as much coffee left in them as when he'd started, with most sloshed out over his paw and the cup holder, and he cursed, once again, the fact that the elevators were down, something that hadn't happened once, not even a single time, in his time of employment there.
It was strange, very strange, and he didn't want to consider it more as he sweated his way down the hall, popping into the bathroom only to find that that too was out of use. The cleaner glanced up at him, a slim and small feline with quivering whiskers, and he backed away hastily, uncomfortably aware of the size difference between them. His gut, however, bumped the sign to warn others of a wet floor on the way out, the yellow plastic sliding to the floor with a noisy clatter. She sighed and put her paws on her hips, glaring at him even as he tried, so very desperately, to back away without knocking anything else over.
``Sorry!''
But just a sorry didn't always cut it when someone had their back up over him and he groaned to himself as he paused in the hallway, wedging his coffee into the pot of a fake plant that some dozy intern had still, yet again, managed to water. The bottom of the cups would be a bit damp by the time he got to his meeting but he had to adjust, had to fiddle with his belt, hopelessly try to smooth his hair back down from where it was surely sticking up in all directions. Yet his belt still dug in and cut in as if it was trying to saw him in two, the stag huffing and puffing back along his way, even a little bit of a waddle entering his step. It was more comfortable, in a strange way, but he was just glad to scoot inconspicuously into the meeting room, the long table of partially seated furs beckoning him in.
He breathed a sigh of relief: there were plenty of seats left and it would be easy to ensure he had enough space, a section of empty chairs at the end of the table beckoning him down. Wherever he perched, he would have a little more room than usual and that was always a very good thing.
Of course, it went without saying that there was a plate of cakes in the middle of the table - the sort of finger food that one could pick up and nibble on, perhaps not quite daintily - during a long meeting. Although Gehart's eyes immediately zeroed in on the food, he clamped his lips together as if against temptation, even shaking his head as he wiped off his damp, coffee-stained paw on the inside of his jacket, trying to be as discreet as possible. No one was looking...but he still had his diet to stick to. But did it really count if no one saw him swipe a cake?
While the others mingled and chattered lightly, he exchanged a smile with someone from another department, attempting, at least, to appear calm and in control despite his current state. He didn't need the bathroom to fix his appearance and instead triumphantly pulled out his phone to use ``selfie mode'' to fix his hair. Indeed, it did stick up in all directions but he had to try anyway, smoothing it down more carefully, tucking a little back behind his ears. It would have to do but he did have to hold his paw out in front of him a little more just to get his whole muzzle in the frame, his round face no longer quite seeming like his anymore.
Gehart flinched but a quick glance around told him that no one was paying him any attention, which was just as well, his appearance as fixed as it could be as he put the phone away and shifted his position on the chair. They were a little more robust in the meeting room, which he was thankful for, as they had to cater to all kinds of guests as a host there; it would not have done to have anyone be uncomfortable there when they may have been looking to do business to the company, which suited Gehart just fine. Where he was, he could spread his legs a little with room to spare, his arms spaced apart as if to show off the thickly meaty lines of them, paws comically small at the end, although he told himself that that was just the angle at which he saw his paws. He wasn't that big, no... No, he wasn't all that large.
The seats were wider too and better-suited for him, though the fat of his buttocks still spilt over the edge: at his size, that just wasn't something that could be helped but he tried not to think of it as hard as it was. The seat squeaked lightly beneath him and he smiled, knowing, for once, that he didn't have to worry about a seat like that, for he was not that bad, no, not at all. Actually, he was so good that he could have one of the cakes on the table, reaching for it quickly as if he thought he could fly under the radar.
He hadn't meant to, not really, but the cake was in his mouth, crumbs on his fur before the stag even felt that he could react, making a soft murmur of appreciation even around the mouthful of food. There was pink and yellow in the cake but all he could taste was sugary sweetness, no flavour attached, the meeting room filling up as some of the newer employees and someone from another site looked him up and down.
``Jared,'' a stoat side, impossibly slender with a shrewd expression. ``Pleasure to meet you.''
Dusting off the crumbs, Gehart smiled widely and rose to meet the stoat but the other fur backed off a step, although he had the generosity to make it appear as if he was just allowing room for others to move into the room, seating themselves.
``Gehart,'' the stag said, pushing the conversation on as he took the stoat's limp paw. ``You'll enjoy it here! Did you only start this last week?''
It was not the usual way of things, at least not for him, but Gehart could only blink and shrug as the stoat mumbled something and slunk away. Now that he was paying attention to more than just trying to make his appearance somewhat sufficient, he could take in that others were shooting him sidelong glances too, looking him up and down as if there was something that he was missing. Did he not look okay?
Gehart grimaced, greeting a couple of others that he knew, itching to reach for his phone. It had to be him, had to be his hair. Maybe his beard was a little too long, making him seem rough and unkempt but, well, it was too late to worry about that (even if he was going to anyway) as the boss came in, a burly bear with a gut that Gehart had once thought was large but now paled in comparison to his.
A hello here and a nod there, a pleasant smile through which he sweated profusely. Eyes slid off him and he exhaled softly, his gut pushing out against the buttons of his shirt, straining more and more with every second that, so very tenaciously, dared to pass. Gehart tuned out the speaker, something that he had heard before in other pointless meetings, pressing the tips of his fingers together as he tried, at the very least, to appear as if he was paying attention. His chair did not swing so he could not fidget in that way but that was all by the by as he smiled pleasantly, everything about him soft and pleasant, so very pleasant, the taste of sugary sweet cake still lingering in his mouth.
Would another be all that bad? It wasn't cheating on his diet, not really, if he didn't log it on his app, he was sure, and his paw was halfway to the plate again when a white cat anthro, whose name he could not say he knew, warily eyed him, her gaze lingering a little too long to be entirely innocent. But he was not the type of fur that gleaned himself admiring looks from colleagues, not even when he'd hit a particularly challenging goal and his overzealous direct manager commended him in public, duly suspicious. What was wrong? What was her problem?
As if defiantly, he locked eyes with her, a squirm of wicked glee rumbling in the swell of his gut, taking another cake and plopping it into his mouth whole. Chewing slowly, his forced eye-contract drove her to look away, Gehart's stomach gurgling triumphantly, though the stag barely knew what battle he thought he'd won.
It's just a cake...
But it was never just a cake and Gehart was a fool for thinking that. The speaker droned on about potential growth earnings (Gehart knew that they were not feasible) and Gehart shifted in his seat, the substantial chair squeaking under him again. They really needed to fix that, it was a little annoying. The projector lit up and he blinked in the glare of it, some graph that, yet again, he'd seen before popping into fading existence, blurring at the edges. It needed replacing but the bigger, better meeting room was taken up by another meeting that had got in ahead of them. Maybe there would have been a bit more room for him in that one.
He should have been happy to simply catch his breath in peace and relax for a moment, even if he could well have been paying better attention, the strain growing and growing across his stomach and chest. Maybe it was his fault for not paying attention to anything much, not even to himself, but the pressure was there, a rising thrum and strain that not even he should have been able to ignore. And yet it was so very commonly said too that ignorance was bliss and he chuckled under his breath, eyes half-lidded and heavy, weighing him down with the chaos of the days, and even the weeks too, that had preceded that one meeting.
The pink and yellow sugar-laden cake sat heavily in his stomach, even though it had only been one cake - that he'd counted, of course. Just one: that was what he always told himself, regardless of how many had passed into his mouth, chewed up and sweetly sliding down into the pit of his ever-hungry stomach. As his stomach growled, however, Gehart would come to know that one cake could be too much and one, regardless of how many cakes that lie of ``one'' actually was, would never be enough.
Crumbs toppled down his shirt and the hill of his belly like hikers failing to traverse slopes that were beyond their capability, chewing as sugar flooded his mouth, a pleasant hit of sweetness, sliding down his throat as something tightened across him like a seatbelt. What was that? What was he doing? He didn't think about it, chewing reflexively, barely tuned in. He reached for another one, the plate almost empty, his eyes glassy and unfocused, but little did he know what he was setting in motion, his stomach yawning and swelling, fatter and yet emptier than ever at the same time. The sensation was out of place and he sat up a little straight, yet it was that tiny, little action that set off a chain reaction, the sensation of bulging, pushing out, growing more and more urgent as Gehart shifted and, without thinking, scratched his stomach.
Ping!
What on earth was that? Something knocked against the underside of the table but he was so squashed in with his stomach pressed up to the edge of it that he couldn't see, heaving and grunting very lightly, trying to be discreet. Nobody else seemed to have noticed the strange noise, however, and so he tried to concentrate, gulping down the leftover crumbs of cake from his muzzle, a pink sweep of tongue catching them from his lips.
The strain across his stomach increased and he tried to suck in his gut, thinking that there were still eyes on him. He had to be imagining it, really, but things weren't quite right there still, bulging and pushing and yearning for a break, a respite from the overly tight confines of his clothes. Like a prisoner striving to break free, his belly pushed out and out, straining between the buttons of his shirt, his brown fur showing through like fingers between bars.
``And in the third quarter...''
Goodness, could they not get through the presentation any quicker? Gehart frowned and slid down another notch, a popping noise bursting forth, three quick pops one after the other in swift succession. Again, he ignored it, shifting his weight to a more comfortable position, though the pops only increased, Gehart turning his head one way and then the other as if that would, somehow, reveal the source of the strange noise to him. Others noticed it too and he half-shrugged as if to say he didn't know what it was either, questing noses twitching as other more astute furs sought to suss it out.
Yet the rising staccato could not possibly be ignored at such a pace and Gehart gasped, suddenly realising with a sickening shock of horror as the stoat who had backed off from him earlier locked eyes on him, though not with his eyes. Blood roared in Gehart's ears and his jaw dropped but everything happened so quickly, his world slowing down while everything around him speeded up, the coolness of the plastic seat caressing his buttocks as his breath caught, wanting to stop the course of events but, horrifically, finding himself unable to.
His pants! Well, not actually his underwear but his work pants, well...no... Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no! He tried to press his hips down but that only made the problem worse, his pants tearing open right across the buttocks as the leather belt sawed into his belly, sweat dampening marks even between his thighs. If he stayed perfectly still, would they not notice it? Could he get away with it? Oh, good lord!
``And, at the climax of this year, we are expecting explosive growth to occur, particularly in...''
He couldn't concentrate, Gehart sweating, not even listening, muzzle slack and eyes screwed up, narrowed into slits that he hoped would not be noticeable. And yet there were so many other things for them to notice, the crowd of colleagues and people that he was supposed to be impressing, though there was a rather large impression that he was destined to leave on them that particular day. He stayed as still as he possibly could but, alas, there was nothing he could do to stop the inevitable from happening, glancing down with a gulp of horror only to find the gaps between his shirt buttons widening more and more with every passing second.
No...
His shirt strained more, yawning grotesquely, flesh spilling between the buttons. One had already popped off - that must have been what hit up under the table to begin with!
It was only one cake...
His pants tore all the way up under his tail, straining to hold his thick buttocks, flesh pushing out, his body no longer to be constrained by the fabric that he was forced to wear, forced to don.
Okay, maybe two cakes...
Even if it had not been two cakes, that was what he had told himself it was. So many had passed down his throat but they still should never have caused such a scene and the stag was left suppressing a groan, straining out and out and out as his belly bulged as if he was just then releasing a breath that he had been holding for too long. He couldn't suck it in any longer, not even as the speaker went on and on about their broadening reach and expanding their brand, all that they would need to do going forward, though Gehart didn't think he could do anything about the forward in the company any more. He was stuck, trapped right where he was, a prey to the whims of his body as more and more fur poked out between the buttons of his shirt, one after the other ripping free, one shooting across into the arm of another fur that he dared not look over at.
``Ow!''
Gehart flushed heavily, ducking his head. It did not excuse him.
Much more than two cakes...
``There will most certainly be inflation too to be taken into account in the first half of next year...''
Inflation! If he'd been in any other situation, Gehart may have laughed but he could not as the pops continued, his shirt giving up the ghost as he swallowed a whimper and closed his ears to the creaking of his belt, the horror of his gut bulging out, the terror of it all. He couldn't stop it, could not do a damn thing to escape the humiliation of the situation that he had found himself sweltering in, sweat marking patches under his arms that he hoped too would remain hidden even as his seams began to tear.
Those began slowly, ripping down the length, one thread at a time as if his body was trying to drag out the embarrassment of it all for as long as possible. But not even the stag in question could deny that everything was far, far beyond any kind of control, though he sank in his seat as much as possible, imagining that he was bypassing any kind of attention, a sausage bursting out of its skin, fat and heavy and, as always, thick.
Yet he was no such delicious morsel to be enjoyed and he tried to keep a perfectly polite, perfectly normal, smile plastered across his muzzle, oddly beatific and soulless, something that could slip away at a moment's notice. His seams prickled and strained and popped and he tried to ignore it all, to act simply as if nothing was happening, breathing shortly and harshly, breath rasping through his throat.
No one was looking. And yet everyone saw.
He counted down the seconds as the speaker closed, the name of the fur eluding him. He faked something, looking down and shuffling, playing with his cold coffee cups, only a few of his buttons left on his shirt as he tried to angle his jacket just so, allowing it to hide most of it. It was the most he could do right then and there to hide what was happening, even if everyone was in the loop and nothing at all had passed by the notice of his colleagues, breathing slowly and shallowly as if he did not have the energy left to keep on drawing air into his lungs. He didn't have to look up as no one was about to make eye contact with him right there and then, shuffling away and filing out as if they simply could not acknowledge the elephant in the room, even though he was actually a stag.
He dared to take a larger breath, pushing out his stomach a little more as the last fur left the room (he didn't bother turning around to see just who that was), though that was to his demise as the middle button sprang free as if escaping the mortal coils of his shirt. It flung itself forth and skittered across the table but that one was the undoing of the end, the others dangling, straining, yet still clinging on for dear life.
Gehart gulped. It was time to go.
And that was just how he'd ended up darting out to his car as fast as his increasingly chubby legs could carry him, one paw trying to cover his stomach and the other holding his briefcase (so rarely used) over his buttocks.
It was the longest walk of his life.
*
``That sounds so dreadful, darling...''
Khen soothed him the best he could as Gehart told his story. The smaller deer had listened to his whole, sorry tale, grumbling through it, though he calmed as his partner's paws swept gently over him, easing away the aches and pains of the day.
``It was humiliating, just lucky it was at the end of the day, that everyone else was going home too... I don't think anyone saw me.''
``Don't worry,'' Khen hushed him softly. ``It's okay, no one saw you. No one would even notice a thing there, don't worry.''
``But what will they think of me?''
Gehart would always worry about things like that, his concerns lying with what others thought of his size, his figure, so many taunts still rising forth from his younger days. It was harder still though for Khen to remove Gehart's belt, the leather drawn so taut that he had to dig further into Gehart's flesh to unbuckle it, although even that seemed too much in the moment. It was uncomfortable and the stag could not help but grunt, trying to suck in his enlarging belly as he was, so very kindly, undressed.
But his partner was just who he needed to take care of him right then as Khen coaxed him softly with the lightest of presses of his paws to lie back on the bed, relaxing while he did the work for him. Still heaving and sweaty, Gehart was only too happy, at least as happy as he could be, to let him do his work, to look after him, to care for him, sliding down his pants as the belt came free at last, the sticking point on the leather finally giving up the ghost.
``There we go... Don't worry about anything, okay, hon?''
Khen's gentle paws were softly soothing and Gehart could not have asked for anything else right there and then, Khen pulling away the remnants of his shirt too so that he was left in nothing more than his underwear. Those did not serve to do anything at all to hide the bulge of his shaft, however, resting on his crotch, even though his rolling gut did more to hide it than anything else in such a position.
That wasn't going to stop Khen from making his lover's day just a little bit better, however, nuzzling softly under his gut as he pushed it up lightly, holding it reverently in his paws. The smaller buck would never have claimed to not adore larger body figures and shapes but there was something about seeing his partner grow larger and larger that stoked a deeply rooted need within him. He groaned softly as he drew Gehart's underwear down, the red hearts allowing him a moment of a smile, the flesh clinging to the fabric as if it was loathe to give up its grasp on something that it had only been splitting away from but a mere moment ago.
``Hm...'' Gehart twisted, trying to look down his body at his lover, though there were only the small antlers, which Khen kept short for him, to catch sight of. ``What...''
But he didn't need to say any more than that as Gehart groaned, slumping back against the bed, the mattress soft and welcoming beneath him. It was where he wanted to be, where he needed to be, and it was too tempting to just stay there, right where he was, as Khen gently kept his stag's belly lifted, his muzzle on his cock, lips and nose twitching over his hardening shaft. Gehart panted, letting out a moan, stomach rumbling and seeming to rise even more, pushing against Khen's paws as if it wanted to get in the way. It didn't take any time at all for him to harden up with that sweet muzzle caressing and teasing his length, even if it had been unexpected.
Gehart groaned, antlers digging into the bed as he pushed his head back, a paw thrown up beside his rounder, plumper muzzle, grasping the sheets. He caught sight of that paw in the corner of his eye, even that being thicker and meatier than before, fingers like sausages coming to life where, before, they had at least been a little slimmer. Who knew that paws could even change like that?
His stomach rumbled lightly, reminding him of the busy day he'd had, the lack of snacks. He was surely under on his calorie goals and he groaned out loud, letting Khen's sweet muzzle chase away the stress and troubles of the day. Those lips knew just what to do, closing around and tugging lightly at the very tip of his shaft, lapping and swirling, pushing down his length to tease at what more was to come.
``Oh... Oh, that feels good...''
Of course, Khen knew his body, in that way, better than even he knew himself, even trembling there, fat and whale-like in his manner.
``Mmm... You don't need to do this, you know,'' he breathed, though it was harder and harder to get the words out as Khen's muzzle slipped down more and more, slowly and tentatively engulfing his length. ``It's...ah...okay... Oh... Oh, Khen...''
Yet not even he could ever have possibly have held back a whine of pure, raw appreciation, pounding more eagerly than ever before. It was hard to think about anything else but just how good his buck's lips felt on his cock, pushing over the head, slurping down his length. Khen moaned around him, hardly shy about taking him deep up into his muzzle, knowing the lengths of his shaft like the other best things in his life. He groaned and grunted and Gehart's sounds of appreciation matched his, the stag wriggling as much as he could on the bed, sheets twisting and rumpling up beneath his body even as the bulk of his belly strained to keep him down, pinned where he needed to be.
He shouldn't worry. It was too much to worry. Gehart groaned, his cock throbbing, seeming to twitch more within his lover's mouth than it ever had done before, every tiny, little sensation heightened, ramped up in line with his need. Every last nerve-ending in his body quivered with desire as he moaned open-mouthed, his eyes half-lidded, though any complaints and protests that may have slipped from his lips fell on deaf ears - even his own! He wasn't even listening to himself as Khen slowly and lovingly bobbed his head on his cock, taking him deeper and deeper, the fleshiness of his tongue pressing up to the underside of Gehart's smooth length.
It had been a bad day and it was about time that he let it all go, he told himself, groaning softly. Better to relax there, to let Khen do his best work on him. If there was one thing he knew about the buck too, it was that he liked nothing better than to have a fat length of stag-meat in his muzzle, slurping and suckling, his cheeks hollowing a little more just to better suck on that length. He needed it, Gehart knew that too, and there was nowhere else that either of them would have preferred to be than in the positions they were in right there and then.
Sometimes...one didn't have to mess with perfection.
Why it had happened so swiftly, however, was another question indeed and the answer came as a dollop of pre-cum flowed forth, splattering lewdly into the back of his maw. His buck suckled wantonly, bobbing his head softly, speeding up, though he knew how far and how fast he could go as Gehart lusted for him, rumbling a growl that would have not befitted a deer - except for the fact that the deer in question was, of course, Gehart himself. The stag could do anything and own it...besides his weight. That was just the one thing that forever had held him back in many different ways during his life.
But that question remained, what made him huff and puff and try to push his head and torso up, the rise of his gut blocking out most of Khen still as if his belly didn't want him to see what was going on, despite the rise of his antlers. That didn't mean that he couldn't feel his buck's mouth around his shaft through, drawing him deep up into the back of his muzzle as he swallowed, savouring every last, lustful inch.
Around his length, Khen moaned, the subtle vibrations travelling up Gehart's shaft even as his paw dropped, seeking out the stag, sliding over his short hair, though it required a trim again already.
``You didn't seriously...'' He chuckled to himself, not expecting an answer as his paw closed around the buck's antler. ``You didn't actually...get turned on from...ah...fuck...the story?''
Of course, there was only one answer that his little buck could give and that came in the heat of his cheeks, moaning louder still around his cock. Khen wouldn't say anything, for that would mean having to let go of his partner's shaft, but he could show him in other ways, paws sliding up over Gehart's thick thighs, meaty logs, as he bobbed his head more and more quickly. The stag grunted in the back of his throat, licking his lips, need rising. Such a light touch made him want his buck all the more, a touch of dominance pressing on the back of his mind much as his stomach pressed down on him at all times.
Gehart tightened his grip on Khen's antler, controlling how much he could bob his head, as he could not thrust up from such a position. A groan rolled from his lips, the most he could either do or say at such time, losing himself in the moment as his fat rolls jiggled, Khen barely even holding up his gut any more but letting it rest on his head softly, in front of his antlers. With Gehart holding his antlers, guiding his muzzle, he didn't have to worry about harming his lover, the points of his antlers smoothly dulled and rounded too so that they could not hurt anyone.
``Yeah, buck, keep going...''
Gehart grunted, forcing the words out as he rubbed Khen's head, running his fingers lightly through his hair. He had to reach around and over the swell of his belly to get down to Khen's muzzle but that was the least of his worries when he groaned deep in the back of his throat, needing more, rocking his hips, grinding up the best he could. Around his cock, Khen moaned and sucked him deep up into the back of his mouth, tongue swirling, suckling at the tip whenever he was allowed to draw back enough to please the most sensitive part of Gehart's length.
``Just like that...''
He couldn't have held back and didn't want to hold back, each bob of Khen's muzzle drawing a grunt from his lips, silencing the words that he yearned to spill. Yet they were still there, desperate to be freed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he panted, body heating up, though it was impossible to discern what sweat was fresh where his fur had already been soaked. The erotic note of it, however, swept away even the trauma and trouble of all that had, earlier, come to pass, gritting his teeth and hissing through them as he growled and grunted, heaving for the release that was still yet to come.
Those lips... Oh, how he needed it even more, moaning loudly, head spinning, twisting back and forth, hips rocking, though he could not thrust all that much. He needed it too much and he thrust the buck's head down, holding him there even as Khen struggled and gulped anxiously around the head of his cock.
``Oh...'' He groaned, trying to wiggle his hooves down for purchase so that he could arch up, not having the strength left in his abs to do it any other way. ``Almost there... Come on, finish me off, lad, come on.''
But his climax was coming either way, a whimpering moan rising forth in a heady grunt, sounds of raw, ardent pleasure thrusting themselves forth in a way that could never have been held back. His groan of relief, softening overly tense muscles, came with the bliss of climax, cock throbbing, pulsing.
He held Khen's head down even as some of his seed bubbled up fruitfully from the corners of Khen's lips, not even the gulping, swallowing buck able to keep it all within his mouth or forced down his throat. Khen was not about to give up though as he stayed obediently right where he was put, the only sign of tension in his body the digging in of his fingers into Gehart's thighs, though the dimples they formed were still hardly noticeable in the grand scope of his flesh.
``Ah... Whoa...''
Gehart moaned out loud, chuckling lightly, the base of his member wet as the thought of filling Khen too - from a very particular entrance of his - slipped into his mind. The buck, truly, was the only one he wanted with him and that was most certainly evidenced by just how Khen was able to make him feel more like himself again after such a dreadful day, a humiliating day, had come to pass.
Eventually, however, he had to lift his paws again and flip them back over his head with a throaty grunt, Khen gasping as a softening length of meat slipped from his muzzle. Khen was forced to drag in breath after needy breath where he had, before, not been permitted to breathe, even if it had been himself that had kept his filled muzzle from breathing. Gehart growled softly, loving how his buck gulped and gulped, imagining that it was because he just didn't want a drop of his cum to go to waste. No, Khen was not one to waste, still gasping as he squirmed up alongside Gehart with a dopey grin on his muzzle, eyes falling heavier and heavier, half-lidded at best.
Gehart's arm snaked around him, pulling him against him, tight and safe and warm, where the two of them needed to be, two bodies pressed together. Even with his fat quivering, not seeming a part of his true and real body anymore, Gehart could not have wanted anything else, moaning softly. Dreamily, Gehart's paw ran down his buck's body to his belly just to feel how much he had poured into his, stomach bloated out with Gehart's seed, though nowhere near as much as Gehart's bulky swell.
Khen's stomach bloated out lightly, soft and plump and yet still not as firmly fleshy as what Gehart boasted. It was a different kind of softness to be found there and Gehart pressed his arm more firmly over the buck's stomach, holding him close, a soft murmur of appreciation rumbling up from the pit of his belly.
``That...''
He meant to voice his appreciation but they knew what one another meant, what they wanted to say, pushing in close to one another as they dozed, slipping down into the realm of sleep, a teasingly light tickle of lure drawing him down and down and down. Khen was right there with him, of course, his lover's paw pressed into his gut as he stroked and stroked, feeling just how full of his seed he was.
Nothing could have been more perfect. And, yet, there was still someone or something there set to spoil the moment.
On the edge of sleep, Gehart twitched, nose quivering.
``Thicker...''
That word would follow him into his nightmares.
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