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Thicker

Chapter Eighteen

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1599

It was a relief to finally tell everything to Khen but no amount of distraction could take him from the knowledge that it was still ongoing. Their last date hadn't made it any better either as he'd broken and crushed all manner of things, even knocking a full tray of champagne flutes off a waiter's tray as he stood to go to the bathroom. Weight made him clumsy when he was not used to it, though Gehart knew that he had to find a way out of the curse sooner rather than later, his steps slow and heavy, stomach waddling with a life and mind of its own. It may as well have been its own separate entity by that point, larger than a whole fur all by itself, though its body only craved food, rumbling for more, always hungry. It too always just wanted to be thicker.

And thicker he became, his stomach rumbling for sustenance that he ground his teeth together against and refused to give it. He could not, would not, could never do such a thing. It would be the end of him, he knew so, if he even allowed one sweet treat to pass the barrier of his lips. And it was a drawbridge that he well enough had to keep sealed shut against the sins of temptation, for it was gluttony that had gotten him into the mess in the first place, the first stirrings of true guilt clawing at the inside of his empty stomach, seething and hissing, the demons of devouring closing in around him, feasting on him from the inside out.

The stag shook himself, antlers rattling against a picture frame on the wall, knocked askew. What a thought to have?! That shouldn't have been in his mind... Yet there was more still to take up his attention as Khen brushed his arm gently with his fingers, leading the way.

"Come on," Khen said, pausing by the door as if he was wondering if the autumn weather was enough to warrant a scarf. "Let's get going. I know just where the taco truck is."

Gehart's heart stopped.

"What? Where?"

The buck sighed.

"I'll tell you on the way..."

He wasn't going to get any more of him than that and Gehart was left with no other choice than to blindly follow along, although he barely fit in the car anymore. Truth be told, they'd had to rent a larger vehicle that he could get into, though he let gravity do most of the work of getting him in and out of it whenever needed. The vehicle rocked, a large minivan that was probably breaking the limit of what an actual minivan was supposed to be, and he squatted in the back, squirming down onto a makeshift seat that, again, barely passed driving regulations where they lived. However, for the time being, it would have to do.

Yet Gehart could not push the guilt from his mind, knowing that his buck was acting from a place of love - what did that then make him in that equation? The villain? He wasn't the hero, no... Not by a long shot. Khen didn't know that there had to be a willing participant to assist him with the curse but the knowledge that he didn't know what that other fur would have to do weighed more heavily on him than his fat and his guilt combined. Gehart squirmed in place, stomach churning, even though he could not honestly tell if he was truly hungry anymore or what.

Pressing his nose to the window, Gehart blinked at the brightly coloured flags and tents, waving lightly in an autumn breeze. His nose twitched even against the glass, mouth salivating openly at the sweet aromas wafting through, clearly pulled through the cooling and ventilation system of the car. He dared not open his window, trying to sink back into the seat to get away from the sight beside the car park they were pulling into. Of course, he failed dismally.

"What are we doing here?" He said quietly, unable to tear his gaze away, willpower already shattered, in all but shreds. "Khen... This... I can't. You said we were looking for the taco truck? That you knew where it was?"

"It's harvest time now, isn't it, traditionally?" Khen said with a small smile that appeared sad tugging at his lips, however light it was. "It's the time of year that these things are on. They will be here."

Gehart frowned.

"How do you know that?"

"Maurice told me."

Khen was gone, lithely swinging himself from the car with lightness to him that Gehart could never hope to match up to. He scrambled and heaved and hefted his weighty bulk from the car, leaving against the minivan as he regained his breath. Even that action alone had exhausted him but Khen was ahead and he had to hustle, hastening along his way to catch up with his buck. Whereas he was no longer very much of the hasty sort, at least trying to rush to catch up with Khen stopped him from pausing at food tables laden until they creaked with the weight of so much food, eyes shooting off here, there and everywhere.

He'd never seen so much food all in one place before, drooling as he tried to hold a handkerchief to his muzzle, hiding his carnal delight at such pleasures. It was wrong, he couldn't eat - why wasn't Khen there helping him? Couldn't they have gotten the crows to come out of the festival to see them, if they were at all inclined to help them in any way? Still, he did not know what was to go down there, stomach rumbling more and more loudly as he headed towards a huge tent that seemed to be the centre of it all, splashed in brown and white like a giant cinnamon roll drizzled in icing. It didn't seem to be open yet but Gehart caught sight of Khen's antlers disappearing inside, so that was where he would go, stomach growling so urgently that he turned the heads of even passing bystanders.

The cool of the tent was welcome, though it did not ease the trickle of sweat beneath his fur as he grunted and mopped at his forehead ineffectively. Gehart blinked, allowing his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness of it, though the tent only enhanced the aromas of the many, many foods within, colliding against one another as if they were all rushing to the forefront in their haste to sway him, to tempt him in.

Gehart whimpered, mouth watering. That was apple pie... And that, over there, was a fruit tart. Sickly sweet and higher in calories than one may expect, especially with a huge dollop of cream on top. He hadn't indulged since Khen's birthday. Bar the cake. He wasn't sure if he was counting the cake still.

"Where's your truck?" He said stupidly, his voice carrying to the end of the tent, which seemed to be an awfully long way away for his stumpy, trunk-like legs. "What are you doing here?"

The crow stood at the far end with Maurice on one side and Khen on the other, although they did not stand as if they had just been talking. On the contrary, they faced off against one another as if they were squaring up: in that moment, there was no clear victor to be had. Gehart took one, wobbling step towards the tables, self-resolve weakening.

He couldn't do it.

He _wouldn't_do it.

It would be the end of him.

The fact that there was more traditional Mexican food laid out - more the fare of the taco truck and maybe even the other businesses of the crows too - only made it all the worse, stomach writhing, rumbling, craving. He needed it, needed it all, but there didn't seem to be anything left to hold him back as he took another step and another. If he ate it...well...Gehart already knew what would happen to him, his belly a yawning pit that had to be sated.

Khen cast him a look that could have conveyed worry or something darker still but his buck was no longer even there to hold him back as Maurice drew the other deer outside. Left alone in there, Gehart strained to hear but they were too far away with the waterproof, shiny canvas between them, a heavy fall of a tent flap more than enough to muffle their voices. Only the elderly crow, whose name he did not know, remained, smirking and rocking back on her heels, winged arms folded across her chest. She was not the one who had anything left to hide though.

Gehart swallowed hard. Cream cakes. Stuffed tacos. Desserts upon desserts... There was everything that he could ever have wanted as if she had known, inherently, just what she needed to set out for him to tempt him beyond all belief. The worst of it all was, of course, the tacos, brimming over with filling, the right amount of beans to the beef and, well, he wasn't so concerned about the vegetable aspect of such treats. They had been a staple for him before and, as much as Gehart never again wanted to look another goddamn taco in the face, he stared it down, trembling in place, spices assaulting his nose.

Thicker.

_ _

No.

Thicker.

_ _

NO.

Thicker.

_ _

NO!

Thicker.

_ _

Nononononono_no_!

And, yet, it was inevitable, his doom laid out prettily before him as if he had been brought there in the first place merely to be the esteemed guest, the one that everyone had been waiting for. The tent was empty bar for the two of them but he could not resist the sickening pull of the food, one waddling, lumbering step at the time. It was not that the world around him was teasing into slow-motion but rather that he simply could not move any more quickly, desperate for what was there before him.

He didn't realise there was food in his mouth, eyes wide and staring, until his taste buds exploded, something that was like cheesecake but not quite sliding down his throat. He could not help but gulp, the action of the reflex beyond him, whimpering and moaning.

So good...

_ _

But wasn't good. It wasn't good at all.

Thicker.

_ _

Yet he did not stop, could not stop, whining and crying, tears moistening his eyelashes as he grabbed another slice of cheesecake-like stuff blindly, groaning out loud. He knew she was there, watching his downfall, but there was nothing he could do, nothing he felt he was at all capable of as his belly groaned, straining to accept more when it had already, through the weight of his fat alone, been pushed to his limit.

Thicker... You be thicker.

_ _

It had been her voice in his head all along. And yet the revelation held no joy in it for him. Nothing, he felt, ever would again for the rest of his woefully short time.

Thicker... Eat up. Be thicker. Always thicker, yes. Much thicker.

_ _

The stag could only obey.

He grabbed a pawful of tacos, one in each paw, maybe more than that, he didn't care. Down his throat they went, one after the other, beans and rice and meat spilling everywhere, but he wasn't anywhere near enough with himself to care. It was time to give in and the curse ramped up to completion, the crow smirking cruelly, his jailer who, he now knew, had never had any intention of ever letting him go. His paws moved as if of their own accord, finding paella, fajitas, nachos... Oh, but it was the desserts that he wanted the most, the very most of all. Gehart's sweet tooth had been legendary but he had been too afraid of late as his weight continued to balloon to even lay a paw on anything that could have sweetened his taste buds, denying himself all that may have given him just a little touch more willpower than he had in the moment it mattered the most.

He didn't know many Mexican desserts but Gehart had surely eaten them before, but it was the ice cream that he lunged for, shocked that he was even doing it, stuffing himself full of it. It was not as sweet as he'd been expecting but surely that only meant that he could devour more of it? He was not in with any rationality right there and then, shovelling more and more ice cream down his throat on a big serving spoon as his stomach rumbled, bulging out and out as if he was actively being inflated.

He should have thought that that was not real, that it could not actually happen. He would have been right but also wrong, the lines between the fantastical and the real blurring in the wake of her curse, its twisting influence sinking prongs into him, fat and ready to be held to the open flame. But where Gehart would roast was in the stuffing, whimpering and whining as he tried and failed to stop himself from eating and eating more before even the thought itself had had a moment in which to solidify in his mind.

He was going to eat himself to death in there. And there was nothing he could do about it.

He stuffed himself to the brim with food but an overly swollen stag no longer had a limit or a brim to reach until it was past a true point of no return, belly grumbling and swelling with each and every mouthful. Ice cream, cakes, towers of jelly, cheesecake, churros, sweet things like dumplings: they all met the same fate as they slid down his throat, easing the way for the one that followed it. There was no sense of his stomach filling even as his hide ballooned out, fat arms struggling to push slices of cake to his lips, tears streaming down his face as he choked and gagged and yet still kept right on swallowing.

Watching him, the crow-lady scoffed and jerked her head at him, her eyes narrowed, although he was too wrapped up in sating his stomach to look at her.

"Ergh... You pig. Pig-stag. You right to be thicker. Thicker, thicker, thicker."

Her words of disgust, turning away even from the cursed monster of a fur that she had created, rang in-between his ears as he groaned, lips wet with cream, though he could not tell what desert it was. It didn't matter. Everyone thought he was disgusting at his size, even the one who had done it to him in the first place, and all the guilt that he'd carried along with him was coming to rights, setting him in the place that he'd always been meant to fall.

She grunted, a sound of disgust rising from her throat again, a strangled groan that didn't seem to have any place in such a scene. She was the one who had orchestrated it all and, as he shovelled whipped cream, scoop after scoop, straight down his throat, Gehart finally knew that he truly deserved every last second of it.

"He tell him now, your boyfriend," she said, clacking the edges of her beak together. "You no tell him that someone else take curse? Maybe... Maybe curse. Maybe I be kind. But why anyone kind to you, thicker, I no know."

She was right. She'd always been right. Scoffing down more cake, he glanced at her, desperation shining in his eyes. It wasn't going to do him any good, however, any apologies that he may have had for her sealed away behind his lips by more food - always, more food.

"He decide your fate, deer. You no say now. Keep eating. Eat up, pig-stag, such a piggy, fat stag. Eat up, thicker."

Thicker and thicker, he tried to pause in his eating, teary-eyed, as she left the tent through the flap that the others had ducked through. She didn't even want to see how her handiwork ended up. Figured as much. He was fat and disgusting and eating himself to death, belly groaning, squeaking and creaking as it strained to contain too much food, was only the beginning of the ultimate end for a fur who had been unkind in the extreme.

But as she lifted the flap to leave, Khen darted in, his jaw dropping, Gehart standing there before him, a blimp of a fur who was simply impossible to miss. His wobbling belly rolled out and spilt onto the ground, almost stopping him from getting to the desserts table but, of course, not quite, not as he froze in Khen's line of sight, heart pounding in his throat, tightening there where it had no use for him anymore.

"G-Gehart?"

He couldn't even get the stag's name out without stuttering and, wide-eyed with terror, Gehart groaned, swallowing his mouthful of cake, crumbs littering his muzzle. He wanted to cry out, say anything, beg for help, but there was a pie in his paws, an apple one, and, as he met Khen's eyes, he knew that he was going to succumb to that too.

Down his throat it went, barely popping the whole thing out of the metal tin before devouring it all down like it was his last meal. For all Gehart knew, it was going to be his last meal but there didn't seem to be anything the stag could do about that, eyes on Khen, who he realised, for some reason, was completely naked. How could that be? Was it all a dream? Gehart shuddered. No... No, it felt too real to be a dream, not even like those nightmares. This time, it was the real deal.

Stepping towards him with one paw raised as if he was warding off a dangerous beast, the buck took a slow, steadying breath, though the situation called for more urgent action. In his other paw, notably, he held a large, cream pie with a thickly luscious filling gleaming in the soft lighting of the tent.

"Okay... Listen here, Gehart. It's going to be okay. I just need you to do this one thing for me."

"This pie... Here." Khen swallowed hard, maintaining eye contact as much as Gehart tried to strain away. "I need you to eat this one thing, Gehart. It will all be over then, I promise."

What? Gehart gasped but his lips barely seemed to move apart if it was not to stuff more into his gob. But he couldn't, he wouldn't, the remnants of the last apple pie sliding sweetly down his throat to rest in his stomach, his belly spherical, arms and legs sticking out as if they had been glued onto his body by a child as a mere afterthought to his design. He knew, he had to know - the crow lady must have told him!

He staggered, trying to run, but only found himself pivoting around back to the feasting table again as if it was drawing him back repetitively, knowing what he needed above all else. And, still, Khen was there, advancing with that pie, a pie that, now, sent trembles of fear through him, crying without tears as he tipped forward onto his overly round stomach, using it for balance even as he strove to push himself away, to get away through any means.

"It's going to be okay..."

But it wasn't going to be okay! Nothing was ever going to be okay ever again if Khen forced him to eat that pie, the stag panicking and half-screaming, though the chub on his face and neck swallowed up his cries like he'd swallowed down so very much food. It was all coming to a head and Khen wasn't trying to save him anymore - he must have thought that Gehart was throwing him under the bus, saving himself in a fit of desperation! That wasn't what Gehart had intended at all though, never, not even the once, he'd thought that Khen would find another way to end the curse, to break the curse, he was always the smart one, the one that looked after them both and made sure everything was good and in order. He would find a way, he always found a way, but it seemed that the way that his sweet buck had found was to take charge and take his lover out of the picture entirely for his sins.

Thicker.

_ _

His stomach bulged and creaked as if he was still trying to push more and more food down his throat, though he couldn't, clamping his mouth shut against the ultimate terror. No! NO, he wouldn't, not even as Khen spoke so very soothingly at him, backing away on tottering legs that were barely enough to hold his weight anymore, his vision blurring with traitorous tears. He tried to step away but even movement itself was beyond him as his buttocks took his weight, rolling back, helpless and fat, lolling and rolling, denting one of the tent poles that only stopped him from rolling away further still. But maybe, just maybe, that was just what Khen needed.

Slowly, he approached, though Gehart had nowhere to go, his eyes fixed on Khen's paw, the pie in it, as he peered over his gut, squinting and trying to see. He had to see, had to know, but his lover's face was solemn and quiet and he didn't know what to make of it - all he knew was that he could not eat anymore or he was going to burst! That would be the end of it, the end of him, whimpering and squealing and grunting and flailing the very best he could as he fought to escape, panic kicking in at the height of fight and flight. And Gehart had never been very good at fighting back...

"It's okay... Just eat this one thing, Gehart, and it will all be okay..."

No! That would be the end of it! But he couldn't do anything to stop his buck as he easily climbed into his lap, using his fat as handles like many, many love handles. It was more awkward for Khen to rest there on the rolling belly with Gehart still struggling, one arm outstretched to place the pie on his chest. Pinned against the tent pole, Gehart grunting, his body reacting instinctively, horrifically, striving to thrust up. To his sordid, twisted mind, it still felt like something sexual, the tip of his cock - how was he bare there? Had Khen worked that quickly? - brushing Khen's tail hole. The buck grunted and wiggled his hips but it was more his movements than Gehart's, his belly merely wobbling, that made him squeeze down against his cock in the first place.

"Ah... Soon... But you've got to eat this, Gehart."

Even fear could not completely override Gehart's lust as his eyes remained glued to the pie in horror, Khen taking a piece as if in slow-motion, very slowly lifting it, offering it to him, just like it had been in his nightmare. He didn't want to eat, could not eat, shook his head over and over again, said he wouldn't do it. Khen listened to none of it. It was pressed to his lips and, still, he refused to eat, belly groaning, threatening to burst.

It was then and only then that Khen had to use his secret weapon, sinking down on his cock quickly, ignorant to the fact that he was not ready and there was not a drop of lube for either of them. Of course, out in a tent was hardly the place for such a thing but neither of them was thinking about something like that at the point of desperation, grunting and gasping, Gehart's lips parting as Khen took his chance and shoved the spoonful of pie into his mouth just as he moaned, open-mouthed. He can't help himself from chewing even as he sobbed, gulping it down, tears streaming down his fat cheeks, those wobbling too. Everything about him wobbled and jiggled and the taste was wickedly wonderful, just like in his nightmare, only this was reality and so much worse than that.

Khen slid along his pole, his under-tail a velveteen-tight grasp, and he moaned out loud, the pressure inside him building and building in sharp judders, like a balloon being pumped full of air. His belly bulged out, pushing Khen up, and the buck put another piece to his mouth, demanding without words - they were not needed then - that he take it down too. He looked Khen deep in the eyes, even as his own blurred with thick and fast tears, his stomach straining, but there was not a single flicker of indecision or even pity, only determination. What did that mean? And could he even fight back against it?

Silently, Khen pressed the next mouthful to his lips.

He had to do it.

Whether it was trust or a failure of willpower on his own part, Gehart slowly opened his mouth, his jowls shaking with fear, bloated chin and cheeks making it different to even do that, but he did it. All for Khen. If that was what Khen wanted him to do, he would try it, do anything for him, the buck riding his cock still, adding the extra thrill of sexual pleasure to the terrifying ordeal. Tenderly, Khen placed another piece into Gehart's mouth, not so much that it was overwhelming for him, the stag swelling a tiny bit more, yet even that amount was noticeable at his great mass.

Yet it was not only his stomach that swelled but the part of him that was inside Khen too, the buck's gasp softening everything just a touch as Khen's ears flicked back, eyes shaded with lust.

More. Always more. He fed the stag another piece and another, each piece making that member throb inside Khen with greater urgency, swelling and thickening, straining and stretching him in the best of ways. Gehart was not so comfortable, his stomach strained, a perfect round, no rolls of fat at all showing through as he gave rise to a perfect sphere, pushing up and up and up with an audible creak that sent fear trickling down his spine all over again like a cold sweat.

He was going to burst. Gehart shook his head, not wanting any more, but Khen coaxed him on, either way, his cock larger and larger, pushing him on until, finally, there was only one piece left. And it was that one, last piece that would cause him the most trouble as it shook before Gehart's eyes, though the stag could not tell whether that was from anticipation on Khen's part or some other reason that he could not know of. Yet he couldn't do anything, heart pounding, hide groaning, every inch of his strained to his very limit, cock buried up under a wanton tail.

He had no choice. He had to do it. He couldn't look away, terror sealing him in place, stifling a sob as he took one, last stuttering breath.

Khen... It was Khen. What was trust if he could not trust him...whatever the outcome?

Could he?

And, so, he had to open his mouth, taking the very last bite and chewing slowly, though he could barely open his bloated lips and swollen face enough to even get it into his mouth. Khen helped him manage though as he accepted his fate, eyes glued to it as Khen hesitated, pushing it deeper, placing it right onto his tongue for him to chew. Gehart closed his eyes, one more tear pushing out as his lips pressed down, closing oh so very gently around the tips of Khen's fingers.

Eyes shut, the taste exploded in his mouth, chewing and swallowing as if by reflex, the pressure in his groaning hide reaching a peak, bloating paws strained down just to clasp the side of his gut, fingers fat and unwieldy. There was nowhere for him to go, nowhere for him to hide, his breath too tight in his lungs to even take another, head spinning and spinning as if he was about to pass out. If not for Khen riding his cock, rolling his hips, the pain of his gut swelling to that point would have been too much, pain ringing through and yet still, somehow, cancelled out by the bliss of his buck, his lovely buck, on top of him.

Khen would never do anything to hurt him.

He had to think of that, remember that, the pressure unbelievable as Khen's scent caught his nose, cervine musk mingling with his aftershave, the one that Gehart liked that was a little oaky and a little fruity at the same time. It overpowered his own and he gladly leaned into it as his bloated, fat nuts twitched, feeling that the veins in his cock were standing out, defined even within the stag's tail hole. There was no way for him to know that but it all ceased to matter as orgasm, that sneaky devil of delight at the point of no return, ecstasy crashing into fear and pain in one erotic moment that could not be held back despite anything else.

He groaned, dimly aware of Khen grunting above him, slamming his hips down on his cock, euphoria washing over him in blissful waves, his buck riding him as if he was a bucking bronco, each spurt of his rampant cock sending another pound of ecstasy through him. The pleasure had to be accounted for as he exploded, pouring his lust into the buck, balls aching, giving out every last drop they had to give, panting and heaving, though it was, at least, a little easier to breathe, which was, at least, something that he was grateful for, even then.

He had never cum so much before, but he couldn't open his eyes to see, Khen's bouncing on him slowing even as he spurted out more and more, filling his buck to the brim. Cum oozed down over his shaft, splattering his gut, need rising even as it was spent, balls wet with his own seed, groaning deep in the back of his throat, unaware of anything else that was going on around him. There was still pressure there, his whole hide strained, but he couldn't tell just how much with ecstasy demanding his attention, Khen slowing on him, coming to a stop, his weight settling on Gehart's lap. Gehart's brow furrowed. Was he heavier than before?

He struggled to open his eyes but it was even more of a struggle to take in what was right there before him, his buck settled in his lap but with his torso rounder than he'd ever seen it. Gehart gasped but it was hard to focus through the haze of sensation, Khen's tail hole around his cock squeezing down, demanding more from the stag who was terribly spent already, his cock still spurting. Khen's belly was rounder than ever, like a beach ball, bloating more and more with every throb of his own cock as he continued to pour a thick stream of cum up into the buck.

Gehart blinked, head rolling from one side to the other. Could that all be happening? Could things happen like that? It was hard to say but easier to feel, fear slipping down a few notches as sensation overpowered all else.

Khen's brow furrowed, his eyes closed, a paw on his own gut as he groaned. The buck swallowed hard and Gehart's eyes snapped open wide, jolting back to reality, everything bouncing off him all of a sudden in shocking clarity.

No!

_ _

Intensely focused on Khen, he clenched his jaw and moaned as Khen bloated out larger, the buck's eyes shut tighter as his cheeks and neck puffed up a tiny bit, though they were nowhere near as thick as what Gehart was boasting, if it was even anything of a boast. He was thicker, yes, but not his thickest, a trickle of cum oozing from the corners of Khen's mouth as Gehart watched in aroused horror, staring and staring, his buck giving the tiniest of groans, as strained as his lover was.

But there was more to be known and he struggled again, trying to roll his bulk back, as good as it felt to have his member driven up inside Khen. If he climaxed too much inside Khen...would that mean that it would be the end of Khen and not him? It couldn't be normal, not when it was his arms and his legs puffing up too with fat - that wasn't his cum! That couldn't be him! Gehart clenched his jaw, balls still churning desperately so. He had to block it out, had to show it, had to prove it...for Khen's sake.

He took a few deep breaths, drawing back, forcing down the pleasure. He had to think it away, pulling Khen off him rather than pulling out, his fat length slipping slickly from under Khen's tail as his buck collapsed on him, the pulses of cum flowing from him spurting, covering his buck's thighs and crotch, soaking his own fur. But Gehart didn't care about something like that as the pressure inside him eased off a notch, pulling back and back and back as he let out a sigh that could only be described as content, the kind of sigh that only came in the absence of pain.

At last...

_ _

Yet what that meant for Khen was more troubling than ever as his stomach rumbled, uncomfortably full, but, suddenly, no more so than if he had simply eaten too much at a very nice dinner. Khen propped himself half-up on Gehart's stomach, arms flailed and spread out to the sides, hanging down. His belly pushed against Gehart's even though it was not anywhere near the size of the near-enough spherical stag's, fat and swollen with seed, a fleshy roll of lust that bore testament to the sheer volume of cum that Gehart had pumped into him.

But...he wasn't quite responsive up there either.

"Hey... Hey... Khen? Khen, are you listening?"

After a terrifyingly long pause, the buck's eyes closed, Khen let out a soft, barely audible grunt. And there was no grunt that Gehart would have rather have heard, sighing yet again in relief and reaching for his lover with arms that were, at least then, a little more mobile than they had been before. They were still fat and like tubes of lead but there was a little more flexibility to them, enough to stretch around and hug Khen as closely as possible, even with the mass of their swollen bellies to strain them apart. Gehart, however, would no longer let such a "little" thing keep them apart ever again.

Khen roused and wriggled, struggling as Gehart rolled Khen to the side, wrapping as much of him as possible into a powerful hug, drawing him in tight and close, their bellies squished wantonly together. Gehart's whispered apology was by the by at that point as Khen nuzzled him faintly, coming back to himself as he stroked his partner's gut, saying over and over again that they were okay, that everything was okay, that they were both going to be okay.

Stretching his neck as far as he could, Khen allowed Gehart to dip his head and pull the stag into a passionate kiss, tongues entwining, sliding softly against one another as deeply as possible. Gehart, embarrassingly, remained erect as he tasted his own cum on Khen's tongue, mixed feelings swirling inside him as, of course, lust topped them all. It had to come as he groaned, the two of them resting like that for a while, Gehart trying to come to terms with everything.

The fear he'd felt as Khen's stomach had bloated up... Was that just like how Khen had felt when the curse had been on him? But Khen was not larger than ever before and even the bloat of his belly was not as vicious as before, softening as Gehart's gut never had ever since the curse had begun. And then there was the arousal beyond sanity colliding aggressively with the guilt, knowing that it was wrong to be so turned on and, still, doing it anyway. Was that the way of it with such a thing?

It was hard to think and harder still to focus on each other as a strangled squawk burst forth as the elderly crow re-entered the tent, only to leave as quickly as she had arrived in a flutter of tail-feathers, muttering something in her first language. Even Khen had to chuckle as Gehart's head fell back, joining in with the laugher, wobbling through it all, his arms tightening around Khen, drawing him in even closer, relief lending strength to his giggles.

It was over. It was finally over.

In a daze, he was barely aware of Maurice coming back with his eyes shielded, returning Khen's clothes that no longer fit, offering Gehart something like a tablecloth to cover up where his gut had, earlier, burst through his pants along with his fat thighs. So, that's how his cock had gotten itself out in the first place! It was good to know but he didn't even have the energy to laugh or be embarrassed by his nakedness. If Maurice had been around his strange and crazy grandmother for so long, Gehart had an inkling that a naked, fat fur most probably was not the strangest thing that he'd seen.

The world didn't seem real even as they got the side-eye waddling back to the car, Gehart covered up the best he could as they laughed breathlessly, heads hanging as if they didn't even have the strength to keep their heads up after the ordeal that they'd been through. So much had come to pass and all they had was each other, Maurice's details scribbled on a note tucked into Khen's back pocket in case he ever again needed it. But, as Gehart said, lifting his voice a little too much with crowds around them, if the curse was broken and neither of them was harmed, why ever would he need to return to thinking about such a thing?

Khen struggled with the walk too, the fluid sloshing around inside him making it harder for him to walk too as Gehart did his best to support him and also not expose himself to the greater public around them. It was easier said than done but he had to try, an arm around Khen's waist, keeping him pressed up close to him. Truth be told, after everything that had come to pass, he couldn't bear for Khen to be further apart from him than he was.

"Gehart?"

"Yeah?"

Khen shot him a look, though there was a twinkle in his eye.

"If there are any more curses...you tell me straight away, next time, alright?"

Gehart blinked, a chortle rising from the pit of his jiggling belly. Yet he had no answer for the buck even as Khen muttered something or the other about reporting her, the crazy crow who had started it all, though Gehart was sure that he was not serious. After all, there had been an apology at hand and it had, ultimately, had to come from his lips even if the elderly crow had point-blank refused to come back and see him. Gehart couldn't blame her but he knew too that he had done the right thing. He'd take the online reviews down later to make that side of it right too. It was, after all, the very least he could do.

Driving home, Khen mused, the seat pushed back to allow for his extra gut.

"Does this mean that you'll be losing the extra weight now?" He said wistfully, as if he already knew the answer. "That's...uh..."

"Yeah, I know, hun. I get it... Really, I do."

Khen smiled at him, his side-on half-smile that always turned his heart over in the right way. Maybe that had brought them together in a strange way, despite everything that was coming together.

"Don't worry, it won't go away anytime soon."

Khen laughed and shook his head but he was not the sort of buck to not take advantage of a good thing, laughing softly, his mirth bubbling up and up and up as if it had merely been waiting to be released. Autumn sunshine beamed down with a touch of cold on the air and they drove with the windows down, Gehart squirming and wriggling until he hefted his belly out of the way, pushing his muzzle between the headrests from his place in the back of the minivan to kiss Khen, tenderly, on the cheek.

It would all be alright. They'd come through it...just about. They were still together and that was all that mattered.

His stomach remained quiet.