Seeking Sherwood Prologue (Garth) (Patreon)

Today we launch our new project, with the wonderful Rabidbadger writing and myself illustrating, Seeking Sherwood! 

In our first story we wake up with Garth, as the obese rabbit begins to figure out what's going on...

Characters/Owners:

Garth - Nackvixen 

Veronicas - Veronacus 

Temperance - Paris  

- - - 

  Garth snorted a bit as he felt the first bits of consciousness sneak up on him unbidden and unwelcome. The bunny’s head hurt a bit, but that wasn’t uncommon when he woke up sober and clear-headed. It wasn’t the most common of scenarios, that, and often times the Garth who had been binging had left surprises for sober Garth to deal with. Today, it seemed, was no exception. 

The room was unfamiliar, which was also far from uncommon, but it was nicer than usual. If there was anything about waking up somewhere strange that made the large brown bunny feel a little uncertain about the level of trouble this might represent it was that. Though as the hefty lapine swung his legs over the edge of the bed nothing jumped out as totally disastrous. Sure, he was naked in a strange room that looked like a really upscale hotel room, queen sized bed to himself and polished wood furnishings – a large dresser with a full-length mirror beside it (a wide one) – and then came the onion. The camera in the room’s corner, which was doubtless pointed right at him right now. 

Snorting, Garth stood and reached under his gut to scratch an errant bit of itch. They could watch, whoever they were. That didn’t bother him. The fact that his stomach started twisting and grumbling due to being unacceptably empty, though, that was an issue. Whatever else the room had going for it, large window with a nice warm breeze, elaborate carpeting, nice bed – it didn’t have a mini-fridge anywhere in sight, which probably ruled out hotel now that Garth thought about it.

Exhaling, the bunny reviewed what options presented themselves. Nothing of his seemed to be around, but that dresser by the mirror might have clothing he could use – or even clothing he owned. He got as far as seeing himself in front of the mirror before he had to stop. 

Staring back was the reflection he expected, mostly. Four hundred pounds of chocolate brown fur and rolls of flab, particularly below the waist, but he definitely hadn’t been wearing a collar last time he remembered. Not that he hadn’t tried them, sure, but they had just been affectation. Part of a game, or an outfit, or something. This thing looked intricate, gold trim around black casing, kind of thick and kind of flexible, sporting a large red stone in the center and causing uncomfortable tingling sensations in his throat when he fiddled with it looking for a clasp or latch and not finding it. 

“That’s… weird. There some trick to this, or-”

Worryingly, Garth saw the stone in the center of the collar shine briefly from the inside. There was a brief moment of vertigo that accompanied the sensation, and then a heavy feeling inside him. Particularly inside his gut, and a bit… less hunger? Squinting, Garth put one hand to his middle while the other rubbed the collar’s stone. His confusion was interrupted by a beeping however, one from a communication device that he swiftly found left atop the dresser, showing a single received message addressed to ‘L-S 1G’ 

VR-A: Heads up. The festivities just began downstairs and I’m not waiting for the appetizers. If you want in on this I don’t care, just get into something suitable first. Everything in the dresser should fit. 

Garth blinked slowly, pulling open one of the dresser drawers. Sure enough, the thing was packed with relatively pricey looking outfits that were, to put it gently, ‘roomy’. It was almost ominous that the thing was stocked with several sizes and that the smallest, the 4-5x range, were about right for him. None of which actually stuck in Garth’s mind too long, not when other more pressing questions begged for answers first.

L-S 1G: What if I want to just hang out in here, but need food?

Pursing his lips, Garth waited for the reply. Even the wait told him things, how long it took whoever this other person was to get back to him (two minutes, not too bad, during which time he felt another of those odd tingles and could swear he tasted strawberries in the back of his throat), what their answer was, how they phrased it.

VR-A: You’re going to need to get used to being seen and not heard by everyone else, but I guess it’s the first day. That said, after how you were acting before I’m shocked you’re feeling so skittish. You can call for food with the tablet in the nightstand.

Snorting, Garth glanced behind him. There was indeed a night stand, and when he waddled over to peer inside the top drawer it did have a tablet there with a handful of hard-embedded applications. He’d only just gotten to checking through them when the comms device pinged again.

VR-A: Or if you want something more exotic and prepared by a chef instead of a machine you can get your ass down here and let me show you off.

Garth raised an eyebrow. He definitely didn’t remember this person, or what the hell had happened that had him in this room being talked to in such a way in the first place, but it wasn’t terribly hard to make his decision. There wasn’t that much to do in here at the moment, and the prospect of better food that he didn’t have to pay for as well as a chance to listen in and sort out what he’d gotten himself into was clearly the better course of action for the evening. Garth quickly tapped out a reply, then set to digging around in the dresser.

*** 

It had taken a couple of minutes to get himself dressed, mostly on account of everything in the dresser involving more coverage and layers than he was used to and being tighter. None of it was explicitly uncomfortable, the fit was actually spot on to his frame, which was weird. It just wasn’t what he was used to, which was to say it wasn’t intentionally very loose and roomy with room to grow into and stretch things out some. Rather, it clung to every inch of him it could find, which was damn close to all of them by Garth’s reckoning.

All told, the outfit did bother him a little. It had too many complicated overlapping things that he wasn’t sure he was wearing right though the fact that nothing bunched together too badly when he moved was encouraging. The whole thing was done up in dark hues, black and gold and a deep red that sort of put him in mind of either evil empires or expensive candy bars. Whichever it was, Garth made a point of having himself in as confident a pose as he could muster by the time the elevator opened, though the whole effort was marred a bit by his collar gently buzzing and giving him that aggressive, heavy fluttering sensation around his stomach all over again. 

Garth wasn’t exactly sure what he expected upon arrival. He knew the idea that they’d just be waiting to see him was ridiculous, but it was just as disarming to see his arrival go entirely unnoticed by most of the room, and those that did look at him when the doors opened primarily did so with one dismissive glance before they went back to whatever they had been doing. Precisely like he expected the bourgeoise to do. It did deny him a bit of the information he had hoped for though; he didn’t know which one of this lot he’d been talking to. It stood to reason he might benefit from just asking.

A quick look about let Garth know he could probably sort out both his immediate priorities at once – there were tables laden with food for the taking around the edges of the main hall that most of the affluent, scrawny partygoers were either done with or carefully avoiding. A couple weren’t, one (a rather thick looking goose in a half-mask and a visibly color-shifting dress) was lingering at the tables alone and perusing the spread. Garth’s best guess as to who to try first was to see who owned the place, and that was probably common knowledge for the guests, so he began his still slightly awkward waddle in that general direction. A little pleased in the meantime with how the others had to part to avoid him as he neglected to go around people.

The plan was solid, or as much so as it needed to be. It took into account the likeliest outcomes and was asking the right questions by virtue of what Garth knew. Where it fell apart was when Garth, already nibbling on a bit of cobbler he’d snagged en route, made to get the plump bird’s attention and found his attempts cut short. He could work his lips just fine, but his vocal cords were still and slack. No sound came out apart from a faint exhale, thoroughly lost in the din of the party.

Again, that odd fluttering sensation filled Garth’s body, leaving him with a feeling he was starting to recognize as he looked down at the plate in his fingertips. He was, just for a moment, a little closer to full. It didn’t stay that way, though. The dense weight in his stomach dissipated rather quickly – which prompted the need for a bit of testing. Garth glanced down at the dessert in his hand, then at the spread of food arrayed in the hall. Plenty of material to work with. He set to work immediately.

Sure enough, Garth found that no matter how much he stuffed into his face, no matter how many plates he managed to fill and empty as his thick paws nudged morsel after morsel into his plump, round cheeks, his belly wasn’t staying full. It would get close, then almost as if someone had hit a switch, he would feel it all gradually melt away, and if he wasn’t terribly mistaken his shirt and jacket had started feeling tighter around the middle since he began his extended, experimental meal. Not that it had stopped him, or even slowed him any.

About the time Garth had worked his way through half of the room’s offerings, which had already included a few delicacies he’d not experienced beforehand for lack of the ridiculous amount of credits they cost, he finally stumbled onto one of his answers in his continued stress-test of the other question. Specifically, he was leaned over a cake and had given up on bothering with things like utensils, the thing had been untouched anyway and it struck Garth that such a masterfully crafted edifice of moist confection and dense frosting looked kind of sad sitting untouched and unenjoyed, when he heard someone speaking more clearly through the general din of voices. Clearly, directly, and (he was fairly sure) about him.

“Yes, that’s the one. Cleans up rather well, doesn’t he? Though I kind of suspect he won’t be with us long at this rate, which is kind of a shame. He seems like a bit of fun.”

Hesitation only seized the bunny for a moment. Paused, frozen with cake around his lips and frosting collecting in the little dip between his chins, he could either let on that he’d heard, or he could listen for more information. That choice made itself for Garth when he recalled his voice seemed to be on the fritz, and that pretending he hadn’t noticed meant he could keep eating cake.

What is it you call them again?

I mean, I applaud the effort to make him presentable.

Something about, uhm fat… help- uh

No, it wasn’t that Annelise, besides technically it’s indentured-

Does it matter? Chrome, look at him just go. 

“Lard-slave, and yes - he’s living up to his title wonderfully. Though he’d do well to at least make sure he gets back upstairs before his clothing bursts off his body.”

A slight chill ran through Garth’s spine as he had the distinct impression that voice was the one on the other end of his messages, and that she knew he knew he was being talked about. It presented a good reason to get the hell out of there, at least for now. All this walking around was getting him sweaty anyway, and he had a nice comfy bed he could gorge himself in until this stopped being unnerving waiting upstairs – hell they might even give him booze if he inquired. And he was going to inquire.

Garth only looked back once, and it was to debate trying to take the mangled half a cake with him. That idea withered when he realized it might be heavy and he might drop it trying to manage the balance in this infernally tight clothing. The bunny could always just ask them to bring it to his quarters, which he was kind of eager to return to as he waited on the elevator to arrive.

Its doors slid open soundlessly, revealing the softly lit generous space behind, and revealing the one other occupant. A vixen, dressed in enough dark shimmering material (with a top that looked like a corset joined by a web of belt straps) to look like she belonged more at a funeral than a party, was leaned against the back of it and staring at him, leaving Garth realizing he was half covered in cake and just kind of staring there, ass presented to the party. It left him blushing a little as he slid in a moment later, swallowing while he fumbled with clumsy, fat fingers for the buttons only to realize he had no idea where he started.

“Floor eighteen, dear. Take a left when you leave.”

A slow blink followed, with Garth turning his head to the vixen, trying to resist the urge to thoroughly lick his lips and chin clean right there. He could at least wait until he was alone for that part. Garth pressed the buttons though and would’ve said something by way of thanks if he could speak at the moment. The vixen didn’t seem perturbed by his silence though, instead she just stared and waited, until the elevator arrived with a soft ‘ding’ and she moved rather quicker than Garth could. He was left wide-eyed while the woman slid straight into his backside, plastering herself against his ass and sliding across it as if she was squeezing through far less space than she actually was to get past him and exit into the hall. 

By the time Garth lost sight of her he almost lost his window with the doorway, having to put a thick arm in front of it and push the thing open again before he spilled out of the elevator and into the halls.

Finding his way back wasn’t too difficult. For one thing, Garth found his voice returned to him abruptly in front of a specific door that felt roughly the right distance from everything else, and sure enough the thing opened up and allowed him entry without a fuss. The same comfortable, borderline opulent room. The communication device, the night stand, the dresser. Garth headed for the bed first and foremost, fighting with the clothing he was in on the way and haphazardly yanking off every part of it he could manage, not at all surprised by the blinking light on the comm pad.

Plucking it up on arrival, Garth immediately began using it to make sure he’d gotten all the cake he could off his face by tongue or by fingertip with his translucent reflection in the surface, while also opening the waiting message.

VR-A: Not a bad showing for a first day you know, I’m simultaneously delighted that you dug yourself into enough debt to end up belonging to me and a bit disappointed that you’re so intent on outliving your usefulness so soon. 

Don’t worry. I’ll make sure your last adventure as a mobile, functional individual is a memorable one.

-Your owner.

Vice-Regent Amourres

Garth stared for a long time at the words lit upon the screen before reaching into the night stand beside him and rapidly ordering a haphazard mix from the wine list and the dessert menu. Some part of him was now distinctly salty that he didn’t remember ending up in this situation – that part was promptly told to shut up and enjoy the opportunity at hand.