The Rendering Pit - Day 10 (Patreon)

Samuel's relationship with the mysterious mouse grows deeper, as does the badger's waistline. When he's taken by the hand and lead deep within the bowels of the university, one question escapes the badger's notice - will he ever return? 

The following contains romance, weight gain, a morbidly obese badger getting even fatter, and what seems like a new addition to a strange, but loving family.

 

Written by the marvelous Rabidbadger of FA! Illustrated by yours truly. 

- - - 

Samuel stared at his bunk in the dim lighting that currently bathed the room. The covers slid back slowly, and revealed the rest of the purple lined form occupying it. Cute round ears, a long thin tail, and a rather delightfully perfect butt. The mouse drone turned over as he watched, swinging her legs off the side of the bed and standing up.

“You again. You… seem to find me a lot.”

The badger hesitated there, glancing back at the door – at the side of his bed where those pamphlets from the nurse lay – and considering whether he should run, or order her to leave. None of that happened while the rodent drone girl eased up from the bed, Samuel simply hesitated right where he stood, feeling a trace of cold sweat break out over his body – or, well – most of it. 

His awkward shifting about made him painfully aware of the patch around his waist that now moved frictionlessly against itself, and wasn’t capable of sweating. A sign of his recent ‘indiscretions’ with the university’s drones, one he’d been assured was there to stay. It had grown in as a great deal more of himself had, there’d been talk with the nurse about how this stuff would alter metabolism, but it still shocked him to watch as mere days past while he broadened constantly. The badger’s gut overlapping his waist had been early, but now it swayed and slapped when he walked as it hung about his knees. His ass had developed enough heft of its own to bounce visibly with each step, and also hung over a crease in its own bulk, with thighs and hips as wide as the mouse was tall. Hanging down over it all were what he honestly just had to concede as breasts anymore, maybe his hormones were out of whack thanks to the same process? Samuel didn’t know – hadn’t worked up the nerve to go ask.

The pudgy mouse drone seemed to smile under her coating as she closed in. By the time her belly was pressing up against Samuel’s own one (his robes just wouldn’t close around it anymore) he still hadn’t impeded her, which was more than enough. The little thing reached a smooth, coated hand up and put it to the badger’s plump cheek. 

Sam sucked in a breath, feeling the logical arguments in him crumble. The same damning thought came to him that had always done when this mouse got him alone – here was someone who wasn’t interested in what he could offer, or owned, and just wanted to touch him without demanding some kind of performance or payment first. It was very hard to argue with that. Something deep in the badger understood he desperately needed what she offered, and despite the railing of that ‘rational’ voice inside it won out easily. 

The mouse tugged Sam’s face down a bit (she was rather short) and, while there wasn’t really an exposed mouth to work with, pulled him into something that was still a kiss in every way that mattered. 

It set Samuel’s mind clambering for some kind of purchase, anything familiar and secure to hang onto, even if the storm it set off was a blissful thing. 

“Th-that – but, I didn’t think you, I don’t think I understand what…”

The badger seized up in the next moment, for several excellent reasons. Not least among them was the fact that the mouse had snuck her other arm underneath the dangling expanse of his middle, lifted it some, and sized him right by his latex smooth ‘infected’ groin. 

Samuel seized up entirely there. The last times he’d ended up in situations of that sort with drones around there’d been lots, and he’d been a bit judgmentally impaired. He hadn’t the slightest idea what to do, and the little mouse seemed to be expecting something – she was squeezing like she was.

Then, unexpectedly, he did know what to do. There was a brief surge of heat through the badger’s skin, or (he recognized on second thought) through every inch of him around the waist that wasn’t just skin anymore. A tingling little buzz, a rush of warmth, and just… knowing something. It wasn’t conveyed in words, it was just a concept – an understanding. The mouse took a step back, and held the door open.

She had something to show him, and needed him to follow.

The badger glanced at his end table again, at the information pamphlets about advanced infection stages. Then he turned back to the mouse. After the gifts, the affection, and whatever it was had just passed between them? There was a curious tug in his being in her direction, a comfortable and welcoming idea he wasn’t terribly familiar with, but wanted to be. He had the distinct impression she knew this, had arranged it deliberately, and most importantly, wanted to make it stronger.

Samuel took her hand, and stepped out into the university’s halls.

***

It was a bit longer a walk than he liked, but that happened from time to time in such a large place. Samuel was still putting a hand to his back and stopping to rest every so often by the time the little mouse drone led him out of the proper grounds and into what looked like maintenance corridors. They were tighter spaces, warmer, humid – enough to make the badger sweat a little. Lots of uncovered metal, though usually nothing that looked dramatically unsafe – it occurred to him that this might be how the drones get around out of sight. His guide certainly seemed to know where she was going.

The first sign of something noteworthy came as they neared a sharp corner, around which a pale, orange glow shone. The cause of it, when he got past said corner, left Samuel staring in quiet disbelief.

There was a nest built of old cushions from furniture and bedding, a couple of old mattresses, lots of discarded robes and blankets, two baskets full of what looked mostly like stuffed pastries, and candles. Honest to Chrome, wax and wick, actual fire candles. They were all over the den, which was about half the size of his dorm, and branched off into at least four other dimly lit corridors.

While he sat staring at it, Samuel felt his own robe fall off him. Not that it was terribly hard to arrange that, he had to work quite a bit to get it to stay on actually, but it made him realize he’d lost track of the drone briefly. It also left him looking down at himself in surprise, and in so doing, needing to stare again at the generous spread of royal purple that was overtaking him from the middle outward. The drone pressed against him from behind, hands on his hips, nudging him toward the nest she’d prepared. Samuel could just make out in the candlelight where the coating on the drone seemed to be bonding with the stuff growing out of his own body like two drops of water merging together. 

There was a feeling inside that was akin to validation, and happiness – and it wasn’t coming from him. Samuel felt it crawling up his spine, and the strange (but welcome) state of mind quieted itself when the mouse took her hands from his hips (their coatings both returning to seamless smoothness) and took his hand to tug it forward.

Samuel went along with this, letting the mouse ease him down amid the warm glow, not able to deny wanting more of… well, all of this.

“The food, the company, the… whatever the hell that was. Never really… I gave up on that kind of thing already.”

There was a catch in the badger’s breath as he looked around the room and shook his head, while half collapsing to the nest of cushions. It felt like pulling out a thorn he’d been walking on for years. The moment he touched down, those gentle fingers of hers buried in the fur on his chest and pushed him backward, and her free hand busied itself tucking the first pastry into Samuel’s face.

Chocolate frosted, custard stuffed. His favorite. She’d been watching, trying to figure out what he liked, what he needed. He knew that, because… she wanted him to? Because she was thinking it, and had squirreled her hand under his belly again. Samuel didn’t get a chance to speak, every time he swallowed and took a breath she was waiting with another morsel to stuff into him, but he had a clear and all-encompassing sense of the kind of long-awaited relief, gratitude, and need for connection he was feeling at the moment. As soon as he stopped to recognize having that state of mind, the little drone nodded at him, and seemed to smile through her facial coating.

He had the distinct impression she was saying ‘I know, I was there too’. 

At that point, Samuel found whatever other parts of him were still clinging to tensions of one sort or another, and succeeded in making them release. Possibly for the first time. The badger collapsed backward and stared up at the way the living, orange light played on the uneven surface of old, worn metal. He laid there, and let the drone feed him. Biting into each thick, stuffed pastry and feeling the thing gush like some kind of decadent analogue to seizing prey, even though he knew this was a species of surrendering at the end of the chance instead. 

At least got to enjoy every minute of it. Samuel lost track of time quickly, feeling himself take in what had to be dozens of the little things, all while the mouse curled up against his massive side and rubbed lazily at his belly, fingers constantly grazing the edge of where his own infection of drone coating sat, and refreshing that warm, buzzing connection briefly each time.

Samuel didn’t stop and take notice of the world again until something broke the pattern. It wasn’t a significant change, he just felt another hand. Looking up, mouth still full, he saw an outline in the light – orange, like the candles – coated, like the mouse. This one’s body shape looked more canine though, less pudgy, taller. It – he – was holding a basket full of what looked like leftovers from loaded, baked potatoes at lunch. The basket it handed to the mouse, who set it by the (nearly empty) stash of desserts. After doing that though, he placed his open palm against Samuel’s belly, right over his navel, on the crest of his (spreading) coating.

There was a rapid exchange of ideas, of fully formed thoughts that didn’t exactly happen in words despite being easy enough to sum up with them. 

It’s spreading.

Yes.

Still hungry.

Always.

But it… feels nice.

You are welcome.

That last bit struck Samuel a little harder than the rest. He looked up and made ‘eye’ contact with the drone, seeing another encased smile waiting. It had not simply meant that in the meaningless, canned response way people often did. It was not thank you/you’re welcome. It was broader, the drone meant that he was welcome here. He was in good company. He-

Samuel watched the drone step back, and vanish into the corridors. Which was when he caught sight of the dozens of other silhouettes, all reflecting some shiny color in the flickering candlelight, and most of them carrying something that looked loosely food-like.

The first among them came forward, having gotten its hands on a small roast chicken somehow. It presented that to the mouse drone, while also placing its hand on Samuel’s navel. The infection hadn’t been that high on his belly this morning, or even an hour ago, or – Samuel blinked, he had no idea how long he’d been down here, the candles didn’t seem to be burning down very fast. He’d eaten a lot though, he felt bloated – slow – but there was more. That drone touched him, and he felt something again. Something that crawled through his stomach and into the heart, just like all the old tales said it would.

You are welcome.

The badger still felt a few shreds of fear in him all the same, he couldn’t banish them completely. The new and unknown always scared him a little. What was different here, now, was just how impossibly clear these people were making it that, this time? He wouldn’t be alone. He’d never be alone again.

Samuel took advantage of a brief window while the mouse who had brought him to all this decided what she was going to stuff into his curiously bottomless stomach next, to address all those waiting their turn to approach him. There might, he realized, be every drone in the entire campus crammed into those corridors. He spoke to all of them, from the heart, knowing they’d come forward to touch his in due time.

“Thank you.”