Thicker Ch 01

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.

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Thicker

Chapter One

425

Gehart pressed his lips together, the deer glancing between his phone and the paunch of his stomach. It was not the largest that it had ever been for the deer, his size fluctuating as he jumped on crash diets and fitness regimes that, not even once, had any lasting, long-term impact, but his belly was sizeable enough to give him cause for concern. He was a large deer and had never been slim and svelte like others of his species, boasting a full rack of formidable antlers that sometimes drew more attention to him than he would have liked. A brown beard (darker than the smooth brown shade of his fur) and trimmed head of hair helped him stand out for other, better kept, reasons, always presentable when he had to be out and about with other furs.

Again, Gehart looked at his stomach. Was it bigger than it had been yesterday? His calorie counting app, which did more than just mark down calories but allowed him to track macros and micros too if the fancy so took him, gleamed at him from the phone screen in green and white, seeming to mock him with its healthy glow. On the homepage was a slim otter that looked as if he belonged in the Olympics, nicely muscled with not an ounce of spare fat on him with his fur wet and slicked down.

"You can do it too!" The otter proclaimed in silence from the screen, as if weight loss was that easy. "Try for free for one month only! Limited time deal!"

It was a wonder that they'd found space to put the model and spokesperson for the calorie app up there with all the text and Gehart growled in the back of his throat, the big stag rumbling with discontent.

"Damn thing must be broken..."

Were the noted calories off? Had he missed some things out that he'd eaten? No... No, he'd been careful and yet it still looked like he was gaining. Maybe he could try again later, stepping on the scales without anything in his pockets that time. Definitely without the specially designed boots that most ungulates wore out in public, better for cloven hooves than more shoes were for furs that had paws. Even those were too tight for him sometimes when they were a little too long, squeezed down by his calves whenever a few pounds crept up on him yet again.

He muttered to himself, tapping his phone lightly on the bathroom counter, although not too hard. He wasn't so frustrated that he wanted to take the risk of the device breaking and, well, he wasn't one for expenses that didn't need to be made, despite earning a cushy wage at his place of work in a mid-level marketing position.

The office, however, came with its fair share of sweets and cakes and chocolates and pot luck lunches, meals out... The stag swallowed hard, drooling at the mere thought of what lay at the office, surely waiting for him. He may have gotten the side-eye on more than one occasion on going back for his second piece of pizza but to hell with it -- a guy only lived once!

But he couldn't do anything about that, oh no, he told himself. He had to be part of the group, part of the team, and he had a hard workout last night. That definitely counted as a three-mile run too, sprints or something, perhaps that interval training stuff? It didn't matter but the fact of it was that the app said that he should be losing weight and he'd been working out mighty hard too. So, why weren't the scales showing results after him and Khen...

He chuckled lightly and shook his head. Ah, he'd weigh himself again later, another time, a lighter time. Maybe even after he'd had another "workout" with his partner. Against himself, Gehart smirked, clopping lightly into the tiled kitchen at just the same moment that his partner, the very deer that he had been "working out" so very diligently with, trudged into the kitchen looking just a little worse for wear. Despite the lighter cream streak running down his neck, chest and stomach, it was his shorter antlers that drew Gehart's eye, the smaller stag keeping them trimmed and smoothed down just for him. There were slight bags under his eyes as if he had been kept up for a little too long the night before and Gehart's smirk deepened, the smaller deer only wearing his sweatpants, what usually ended up on his body while he worked from home in the software field. He didn't often have to go into the office (the meetings just didn't involve him when he was developing, most often) and that was something that suited Gehart just fine as he got a cute little prize of a buck boy to come home to every day.

They seated themselves at the kitchen table, Khen prepping a quick bowl of cereal for both of them. Even though the app showed him gaining rather than losing weight, Gehart could not resist digging in, crunching eagerly as his stomach rumbled for more. Yet the buck opposite him, so different in stature but with a keen, sly smirk pulling at his lips even then, could not wash Gehart's scent off him so easily, the stag's musk layering him, regardless of how fresh he had tried to make himself. It was Gehart that needed to be fresher for work, of course, but the lighter aroma of Khen's passion left in his fur and deeper still was less something that lingered. That was just how they liked it.

And it was intoxicating as he took another deep breath, nostrils flaring ever so slightly, caught up in his memories of the night before. He had to work extra hard, all to make sure that his musk would not be so easily scrubbed away when the deed was done and, well, he had joked about it burning extra calories too. What more could a stag like Gehart possibly do?

So... Why was it that he was still gaining weight? It didn't make sense. Without thinking, his brow furrowed, Khen shooting him a questioning glance over the table, although the buck was not so much a deer of many words before the first coffee of the day had hit his system. It didn't make sense, nothing made sense, nothing at all. Maybe he should try a new app?

"You okay there?"

Khen's words went in one ear and out the other but Gehart wasn't listening to him. No, other words echoed in his mind even though he had his deer right there in front of him, reeking deliciously of his musk. He should have been focusing on Khen and yet he was somewhere else entirely, groaning softly though not from any manner of pleasure at all.

The food truck lady... What was the name of it again? He went there pretty often and, still, he could not remember the name of it. It had been, last, when he'd been a little intoxicated with alcohol, so it wasn't as if he was expected to be entirely with his senses and high-functioning at that time. No one expected a drunk stag to conduct themselves with their usual level of decorum, could they?

He drifted in his own mind, looking down at the bowl of cereal that no longer seemed very appealing at all to him, regardless of his stomach growling, wanting more. He had to eat, had to keep eating.

"Hey?"

Khen prodded his arm, scooting his chair closer with an obnoxious scrape as Gehart was jolted out of his musings, as unpleasant as they were.

"What? Sorry!"

He fumbled for words, rubbing the back of his neck, though it was not as if he was usually at his most talkative first thing in the morning. Khen studied him, saying nothing for a moment, though there was something in the keenness of his gaze that seemed quite as if he saw right through Gehart.

"Anything you want to talk about? You seem lost in your thoughts today. You know that's dangerous territory."

A light bit of joshing should have gone a long way with Gehart that day and, true to form, he could not help himself from cracking a grin, half-shrugging as if he'd been caught in the act. They didn't need to say more than that as they dug into their respective cereals, Gehart's being some high-fibre mix that tasted more like cardboard than anything else with the odd raisin (if he was lucky) while Khen's could only be described as sugary slush before the milk had even broken down the shell of it. The difference was stark and Gehart slid his gaze away, shovelling down the cereal, bite by bite, all the while wishing that they could just switch bowls.

"I hate that shirt."

Gehart started, blinking dumbly at Khen while his mind whirred, striving to catch up with what he had said.

"What?"

"That shirt." Khen nodded, pointing with his spoon as if that would make his point any clearer. "It looks loose on you."

That was a lie but Gehart's face still broke into a smile, pulling and tugging at his lips in a way that not even he could have resisted. The shirt had so many "X"s on it that it was, by no means, loose as it was, his stomach pushing out against it as the buttons strained, the fabric pulled taut between them so that a bit of fur was visible. His waistband was none better and it was only the last week that he'd had to add another hole to his belt, just to make that one too last a little longer. Where he added holes, he strained the leather more and more, though it was supposed to be tough and durable. He didn't want to buy anything too expensive in case he had to replace it, his size changing and fluctuating regardless of how he tried to control his weight.

But, to say the least, the shirt was far from loose on him and Khen was lying through his teeth even as his lips stretched into a dopey smile. The clothes were restrictive but his relationship with Khen was not as he leaned over to quickly give Khen a peck on the cheek, the smaller deer blushing just a little.

It was sweet of Khen to at least try to make him feel better.

He had to head out the door though, as much as it pained him to say goodbye to his partner, another quick peck on the cheek sealing the deal between them. Khen, however, stopped him as he sorted out the neck of his work jacket, the smart, black jacket, as with so many other things, too tight across his shoulders.

"Wait..."

Khen smiled and winked, mischief at play, though it was the kind of mischief that would only benefit Gehart as the buck worked quickly, unbuttoning his work jacket. When Gehart raised an eyebrow, all Khen had for him was a cheeky half-shrug.

"It looks better that way... You should wear it like that more often."

Those words stayed with him, making him feel, at least, like he looked more like himself again as he slogged through traffic. The morning grind through the city was as hectic as it'd always been but Gehart would have been a fool to deny, even in his good mood and humour, just how his eyes drifted to various food trucks and carts, all serving steaming hot breakfasts and fresh pastries, stomach growling for something far more substantial than the cardboard breakfasts that his guts were currently engaged in digesting.

But that only made him think of the food truck again -- one very particular food truck in gaudy shades of red and yellow. It should not have been so poignant but he could not help himself as his car dawdled to a halt, engine rumbling though not getting him anywhere, with another taco truck poised there right on the side of the road as if it was calling him, beckoning to both order something and remember what had come to be.

It had just been one night out, one night of drinking with friends that Khen had not come out on. Of course, Gehart would never have done anything untoward with anyone else or behaved in a way that could have put Khen in a bad position. But that didn't mean that he was at all immune to the effects of alcohol even at his size, though it did take more to intoxicate him than most others. It was that which had led him to be swaying, groaning drunk, half-propped up by his friends and one, smaller goat who looked quite as if he wanted to be anywhere else than with a slurring, drunk stag right then at that moment in time.

"It's not what I ordered!" Gehart had screamed dully, simply, unable to find more eloquent words. "You need... Give me money back!"

He could have put himself better and, really, there was the issue of the special beans missing from his taco, their special recipe that they wouldn't tell anyone else, but he couldn't tell them that. The words would not come but he needed to let them know that they'd done wrong, that they'd gotten his order wrong, even if he had eaten the whole thing anyway before realising that it was, indeed, wrong. Gehart opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, dredging up the words that he needed to force out, even if it took him longer than he was proud to admit (when sober again) to say it.

"Come on, man, let's go... It's just a taco, come on..."

But Todd, the light of foot goat, was not able to convince him that it was better to leave while the others were agreeing with him, the polecat and the stallion nodding and crossing their arms as if they knew better than anyone else was going on.

"Yeah, come on," the stallion said, though he was just a friend that Gehart knew through Todd. "Give him his money back! It's not right just taking it from him like that!"

"You didn't give him what he paid for!"

Bolstered by their support, Gehart pressed his lips together in a tight smirk, shoulder blades pushing back. Of course, the raven in the taco truck was still set higher up than him but there was a greying to the feathers at the corners of her eyes as if she was, quite literally, getting crow's feet. She tapped a spoon, clean, on her forearm as she took in what they were saying, feathers puffing out more and more as if she was but a pot preparing to boil over, at the very point where she could, duly so, explode.

Gehart laughed loudly, a great, big belly laugh that should not have come out while she ground the edges of her beak together, muttering under her breath in Spanish.

"If it's wrong, I need a refund," he finally managed to say, drawing himself up imperiously. "That's how it is here! So, hand it over then!"

She didn't seem to have much of a choice in the matter and, at two o'clock in the morning, the raven wasn't going to waste her energy on him for even a moment longer. She passed his money back without even saying a single word to him, ignoring the drunken slurring, words slipping over one another as, stupidly, he still considered himself to be in the right after an honest mistake that he'd eaten too.

"Perhaps next time, you'll know when to treat a customer right," Gehart shot at her, just him and Todd left while the goat tugged at his arm, helplessly and hopelessly. "The customer is always right!"

That did it. He may as well have set off a bomb for how she set off, feathers flying off in all directions as she squawked and hopped, the spoon flying out to the sidewalk as Gehart stumbled away, Todd bleating anxiously.

"Thicker!" She'd screeched, flapping her wing-like arms, even though they were nowhere near thickly feathered enough to lift the corvid into flight. "You! Thicker! Thicker, thicker, thicker!"

Gehart had stepped back, his jaw dropping. What was that supposed to mean? But it was too late to wonder that as she jabbed her beak at Todd, the goat leaping away and leaving Gehart staggering, scattered amongst the other drunks at such an hour, everyone gawping and watching the horrific scene unfold before their very eyes.

But the elderly raven was not done yet as she pointed at Todd, the goat trying to do everything he could to drag Gehart away, even though their friends had deserted them, seemingly.

"Beard!" She shouted, though her accent was so heavy that it took them a moment to work out what she was saying. "You! You... Beard! Beard, beard, beard!"

Todd gaped, a wonky tooth on show where the rest were, undoubtedly, perfect.

"Where are the others? Come on, Gehart!"

Regardless, their friends were nowhere to be seen, leaving them behind to be the only two left to suffer her wrath. Turning on his heel, it was all Gehart could do to clumsily flee, although the large deer was not the most agile at the best of times, hooves skittering and slipping through waste left on the side of the road from other patrons of the taco truck who had not been so keen too to clean up after themselves.

"Run!"

"Grandmother! What's happening?"

A younger raven that was her spitting image in male form grabbed her and tried to pull her back, jabbering away in half one language and half the next, but that hadn't stopped her from screeching down the street after them, pointing and jabbing and flinging one word after the first in Gehart's wake: thicker.

The last he heard was the raven that he presumed was her grandson arguing with her in Spanish, a rush of words streaming forth, but he hadn't given it much more thought, well, until the scales had stopped shifting in a downward trajectory without any actual evidence that he was going off the rails. It had been a drunken outburst, nothing to worry about, nothing that would follow him on through life...

...Right?

The blast of a horn snapped him out of his memories as he swore and fumbled, slamming his hoof down on the gas as the truck jumped forward, though there was thankfully a gap there where the cars ahead had pulled off. He hadn't done that in a while but it was just as well that all had turned out okay, the traffic still clustered around him and as busy as it had been before he had slipped into his memories. He was not late and nothing was wrong, there was nothing even worth cringing over in it, not really, it being one night only and all. It would all be okay, really, at the end of it all and he didn't have to worry too much.

So...why was he worried?

No, no, nothing to be worried about. But maybe he should have told Khen about it too, considering that he and Todd were friends, at least in passing. He didn't want the buck to find out about that sort of embarrassing incident second-hand when it was something that should come from him, snakes twisting in the pit of his stomach as they churned. He could not place the severity of the nerves, however, in any sense of reality, finally moving off through traffic and half spacing out until he pulled into his usual parking space at work.

He exhaled, though that only served to push his stomach out more against his seat belt, which didn't seem all that great at holding back his paunch safely either. It would do its job in the event of an accident but Gehart knew that it would be the squeezing in of his belt across his round belly that would be the most painful part of the ordeal ultimately.

Maybe he would keep that incident to himself for just a little while longer...