Commission for  shadowofdreams! He wanted a story about a certain stag named Venison (on account of him being so meaty) who belongs to his friend,  irminsul. He meets another stag who shows him how to relax a little, and soon, Venny's putting a lot more emphasis on the "gut" of musclegut.

If you like what you see here, please consider commissioning me!

Venny ©  irminsul
Story © c'est moi
Dean ©  nocturne

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A hulking deer with limbs roped with heavy muscle and a torso solid and vast as the trees he helped fell was brooding at the end of a local bar, simply called “Cathy’s.”

The deer raised his head, his wide antlers scraping the bar lights. “Hey, Cathy?” He called over to the slightly distracted bartender. “I don't mean to be an ass, but service has been a little slow tonight. Can I get my pint?” He held up a beer mug that had gone empty twenty minutes ago.

“Oh, damn, I'm sorry Venny,” Cathy muttered, grabbing the mug and topping it off. The thin and pretty tabby cat had been running the bar for ten years, now, and was known for her hospitality, and her complete lack of patience for suffering fools. “We've been a bit busy in the kitchen. Someone ordered the Log Train.”

“Shit, really?” Venny’s interest was piqued. The Log Train was something of a local legend served at Cathy’s; six meat logs, eighteen inches long and six inches long, piled on top of each other and wrapped in bacon. Only three people had managed to eat the whole thing; Venny was one, and Cathy was another, which still baffled the community.

The cat grinned, throwing her thumb over her shoulder towards the other end of the bar. “He's kinda cute, too. In a ‘you’ sort of way.”

Venny smirked, crossing his arms. “Waddya mean by that, Cathy?”

“Let’s just say he's got a great rack,” Cathy replied, pulling drinks for other customers.

His curiosity won out, and Venny left his pint to follow when Cathy carried the monstrous dish on her shoulder. Spotting the latest challenger, the hulking deer arched his brow.

The Log Train’s latest victim was another stag, noticeably taller than Venny, but he had none of his visible muscle. He was pinned into his booth, with his soft, blubbery belly spilling over the top of the table, with hips wider than his own impressive antlers. He had to have at least a hundred pounds on Venny. Cathy wasn't lying, either; his large chest looked like a pair of pillows on the top of the crest of his belly, stretching his shirt out to its utter limits.

Venny ran a hand over his black hair, whistling low at the fellow stag.

Cathy placed the huge plate down in front of him, and a complimentary beer. “There you go, big guy.”

“Oh, well, thank you, darlin’!” The deer grinned, dimpling his round cheeks. His voice had a distinct Southern twang. “This looks just as pretty as you do, and I bet it's just the best dish in town.”

Cathy smiled wryly. “Charmer.”

Venny scoffed, crossing his arms over his beefy pecs. “Let's just see him get through it, first.”

The obese cervine was clearly in no hurry. He savored each bite, complementing Cathy’s cooking and striking up conversations with the other bar patrons. He laughed frequently, with deep, full-bellied laughs that made his stomach wobble. It was a leisurely pace, but soon, with a little flourish, the fat stag finished off his last bite, patting his belly. “Well, I do declare, that was the best meal I’ve had since I crossed the border.”

“Nice to see a man appreciating my cooking,” Cathy grinned, collecting his plates. “You come back tomorrow, sweetheart, and we’ll get your picture on the wall.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” the stag shot back. He pulled himself to his feet, popping out of the booth like a cork. And soon, the fat deer’s green eyes landed on Venny. Taking a few lumbering steps, his belly practically pressed against Venny’s own thick middle, the taller deer stuck out his sausage-fingered hand. “Well, howdy!”

“Evenin’,” Venny said bluntly, shaking his hand. “Name’s Venison. Friends call me Venny.”

“Well, you certainly got the meat on your bones to fit the bill!” the fat deer chuckled. Venny felt his gut press up against him, and something was making him flustered about it. Looking back up, he had to admit, the way this blubber-laden deer’s cheeks dimpled when he smiled was awfully cute. “I ain’t intrudin’ or nothin’, am I? I felt ya’ll givin’ me the evil eye.”

“Oh, uh,” Venny cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about that. Just had a bad day.”

“Aw,” the other stag threw his fat-swaddled arm over Venny’s broad shoulders, pulling him in close to his cauldron-sized gut. It was particularly plush, up that close. “Well, you know what’s a good cure for that? My own barbecue ribs, straight from Macon, Georgia. I’ll even getcha some of ma’s peach cobbler, if you really want it. Ya’ll come back here tomorrow for some lunch. I know how to make this...” He patted Venny’s firm middle. “Real happy. Think of it as an apology for movin’ in on your turf. I get the feelin’ you’re used to bein’ the biggest guy in the room, is that right?”

Venny swore he felt a small blush rise up as his side was mashed against this doughy deer’s middle, but he quickly pulled out. “I dunno. I’ll have to see what my schedule’s like tomorrow.”

“Well, don’t keep away too long! My ribs’re mighty tempting, and someone’ll snap ‘em up.”

“Uh, yeah,” Venny collected his things, rolling his broad shoulders. “I’ll just say good night. But, hey, I never caught your name.”

“Aw, well. Gotta keep part of the mystique, right?” the other stag winked.

Venny felt more irritable than when he went in as he drove his old pick-up back to his secluded cabin in the woods. He needed space to clear his head; what was that guy’s deal? Wouldn’t even say his name? Was that what passed for good manners down in the states?

Grunting angrily as he got out of his truck, Venny immediately dressed down to boxers hugging his thick hips and meaty thighs and threw himself on the bed. Still, he had to admit, there was something about that big lug that was awfully cuddly looking…
The next morning, Venny pulled himself out of bed early, grabbed some breakfast, then grabbed his axe to get some work done, working his thick and powerful arms to fell trees around his secluded cabin, all to meet his quotas with the local logging company. With his mighty strength,
Venny was able to do the work of an entire crew, but all of that work built up a massive appetite.

Peeling off his shirt and leaving his thick torso bare. He grunted as he struggled with his antlers; they almost always caught on his shirts, even after he just gave up and tore off the sleeves to make more room for his overdeveloped biceps and slab like triceps. Patting his thick middle, he moved to the fridge to make some eggs, but then noticed he wasn’t alone.

“Well, hey there, big guy,” a fox grinned as only a fox could. “Don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the view.”

“Shadow,” the stag smacked his head. “I forgot you were coming today to set up the new router.”

Shadow walked behind the stag, his eyes quickly fixated on Venny’s thick rump. He gave those meaty glutes a quick squeeze as he moved behind him. The cervine looming over him flicked Shadow’s ears with a know smirk. “Find something you like?”

“I always do when I visit you,” the fox smirked. The pudgy programmer was the only one in town that was capable of keeping the remote community connected to the rest of the twenty-first century; he knew everyone.

As he began to fiddle with the mess of wires near Venny’s TV, an idea struck the stag. “Hey, Shadow… you seen our out-of-towner? Big stag?”

“Mhmm,” Shadow looked up, winking. “Don’t you worry, his ass might be bigger, but I still think yours is cuter.”

“Thanks,” Venny said flatly. “But I was curious if you knew his name.”

“Oh! Uh,” Shadow thought for a moment. “Dean, I think. Why you ask?”

“He asked me out for lunch. Said he was fixing up ribs, but never gave me his name.”

The fox’s ears perked up. “His ribs? Oh, God, you gotta try them.”

“You’ve had them?”

“Yeah! He talked Cathy into letting him use her kitchen, and just…” he patted his doughy middle. “I’m pretty sure I put on three pounds just by looking at them. Totally slathered in barbecue sauce, and the best, marbled pork I’ve ever had. He was treating some of the bar to it after you left.”

“Well, shit. Maybe I’ll get something out of this after all.” Venny checked himself in a mirror, preening his black hair before picking out a new shirt- sleeveless, to show off his pumped biceps after working all morning in the woods.

“You look excited,” Shadow commented as the stag splashed some water on his face.

“Just trying to be polite. You ought to try it sometime.” Venny patted Shadow on the shoulder before jumping in his truck and heading into town.
He went to Cathy’s, and spotted Dean instantly. He was, obviously, hard to miss. Somehow, he managed to find a shirt that encompassed his globular middle, a button-down shirt that was strained at every button, with tufts of brown fur sticking out as his belly was just barely constrained.

“Well! My lunch partner, Venny,” Dean shot up faster than his size should allow. He threw his arms around Venny, enveloping the more muscular stag in a quick hug that squished him against his plush body. They were so close, Venny could feel their antlers knock against each other.

“Yes, well,” Venny cleared his throat. “Thanks for the invitation… Dean.”

Dean grinned knowingly. “Well, you found me out. Still gotcha out here, but once you try these darlins’, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” The two sat down at a table, if only to make sure both of them didn’t get trapped in a booth together. Immediately, Dean slid over a plate that Venny had a little trouble seeing under all the food. There was a full rack of twelve fat ribs, the meat so tender and juicy they melted off the bones.
Dean had also piled on collard greens and grits that were more butter and cheese than cornmeal.

“Well… you’re a generous cook,” Venny cleared his throat.

“It’s the only Southern way,” Dean grinned. “Now eat. Don’t tell me a big guy like you doesn’t have an appetite.”

The stag looked from Dean to the food. “Well, it looks really good…” He grabbed at a rib, tearing off a hunk of meat. When the flavor hit, Venny’s eyes widened and his brow shot up. He couldn’t remember when he had tasted something that good. The meat practically came apart in his hands, and the barbecue sauce had its own unique tang to it; Dean had to be making his own. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah?” Dean’s smile spread, dimpling his cheeks.

Venny moved on to another rib. “This is amazing. What’d you do?”

The fatter stag tapped his nose. “Now, that’s a family secret, Ven.”

Venny groaned at the Southern flavors; it was all fantastic. “I just gotta ask…” he stopped halfway through, a huge bite of grits on a spoon and a rib in his free hand. “Why’d you ask me to lunch, out of all people?”

“Well, I figured you were kin, right? You’re a big fella, just like me. Ya’ll got a good appetite… plus, I just wanted to see if I could wipe that frown offa’ your face.”

“I don’t frown that much.”

“Oh, pfft.” Dean scoffed. “Ya’ll looked sourer than a cat sucking on a lemon.”

Venny sighed, mopping up the barbecue sauce with the last scraps he could manage. “Hey, I’m a hard-working guy, alright? I just had a long day, that’s all. You’re gonna tell me that you don’t have bad days down in Scarlet O’Hara country?”

“Oh, well, o’ course!” the fat stag grinned. “But when there’s a bad day, ya’ll just hunker down with some good ol’ comfort food.” He patted his belly, a good layer of which was spilling over the top of the table. “As ya can see, I had a few moody periods in my life, heh.”

“Well. I appreciate it, I guess.” Venny sighed, rubbing his head. “Y’know, I’m sorry. I should thank you. This was really nice of you; you’re a great cook.”

“Ya’ll just come back tomorrow, alright?” Dean smirked, reaching over and patting Venny’s stuffed middle. “Let’s see if I can’t keep ya smilin’ another day, yeah?”

The stag balked, shooting up. “Yeah, uh, maybe, maybe not. I’m busy tomorrow.”

“Ya sure?” Dean leaned a bit, his belly eclipsing the table. “I’m makin’ dessert tomorrow. Peach cobbler.”

“I…” Venny grunted in frustration. Dammit. Dean’s smile was cute, too. “I’ll make time.”

“There’s a smart move; ain’t nobody misses my cobbler that don’t regret it later. I’ve yet to meet some feller that can turn down seconds.” Dean grinned.

Venny hadn’t met anyone as generous as Dean in a long time. All he seemed to want to do was share his meals, which were all tasty, and very, very big. It had been ages since he had actually felt full, but after a week of ribs, fried chicken, chicken fried steak, cobblers and pies of every imaginable flavor, he was becoming keenly acquainted with the feeling.

Lazily, Venny traced his fork against a pie tin, looking for the last morsel of a pecan pie that was sweet enough to make his teeth ache. He leaned back, making his chair groan ominously. His middle had exploded, with a thick, solid dome filling out his lap whenever he sat down. The stag hadn’t slowed down his workload, still hauling entire trees on a daily basis, so his arms and cliff-like chest were just as impressive as ever, if lacking somewhat in definition. His shirt was stretched taut, any delusion of covering his stuffed middle definitively smashed as his tan belly was on full display.

“Well, shoot, Ven. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone with an appetite like yours. You done cleaned me out,” Dean chuckled, reaching over to pat Venny’s middle. “You’re lookin’ mighty prosperous, there.”

“Hey, hey,” Venny tried sucking his gut in, with almost no success. “I was never svelte, y’know?”

“I’m not insultin’!” Dean grabbed his gut and let it drop, that great mass wobbling ponderously. “I ain’t exactly trim and fit. It suits ya. Makes ya look more… respectable. Big man on campus like.”

“Well,” Venny grunted. “Thanks. You’re actually… y’know, all the weight looks good on you, too.”

“Aw, shucks.” Dean grinned, but then it faded. “Ya’ll still don’t look all that happy.”

“Ah, jeez, again?” Venny sighed, sitting up. “I’m just working hard. It tires me out. I do the work of five guys, all day, every day.”

“Well, maybe you should ease up a bit.”

Venny shook his head. “Nah. Can’t. I’m not the lazy sort.”

Dean chuckled, splitting a beer with the other stag. “Hey, I ain’t telling you to work less. Ya’ll got a nice work ethic. Just, y’know. Sometimes it pays to work smarter, not harder.”

Venny grunted, standing up. “Look, them’s nice words, but I’ve got more work to do tomorrow. I’ll meet you tomorrow, alright?”

He didn’t leave Dean a chance to say anything as he lumbered over to his truck. The next morning was particularly taxing; he had moved into the old growth forest, cutting down trees that had weathered the worst nature could throw at them. They were bigger and harder, and as strong as he was, his new weight was slowing him down just a little. He grunted as he spread out his vast wall of a back, bearing the weight of a giant tree as he dragged it down to the field by his cabin.

Breathing raggedly, he straggled over to the side of his cabin, grabbing for a beer and chugging it down. Pensive, he looked over at the small pile of logs, then he thought back to the bills piling up on his kitchen table, and the paycheck that seemed to be stretching out less and less as time went on.

“So… work smarter, not harder, huh?”

Another week later, Dean was invited out to Venny’s cabin for the first time; well, him and a hearty meal. Cradling bags of food in his doughy arms, smooshed against his vast torso, he waddled over to the cabin. He spotted a crew of four lumberjacks hacking away at a giant, felled tree trunk, then, leaning against the wall and taking up half of the porch, was Venny.

A heavy grunt came from the overgrown cervine as he settled back against the wall of his home, making it creak under his weight. One large hand moved down, giving a firm slap to his burgeoning middle, making a dull, deep thud as the mass, now the size and shape of a boulder, shifted, balanced atop two thick legs vast as the tree trunks around his cabin and a wide, bulbous rump. Swollen pectoral mass hung above that sprawling middle, biceps biting into the sides of his chest as a smirk spread across his muzzle. He brushed back his black hair, nodding to Dean as he approached.

“Well, shoot Ven, what’s goin’ on here?”

Venny raised a glass towards the other lumberjacks. “Got me a crew. All I gotta do is drag the trees down and let them take care of the rest. More output, more money, less work for me. Like ya said, work smarter.”

Dean chuckled, setting the bags of food down and leaning up against him. He arched his brow; the other stag was now significantly wider than him, his gut bulging out several inches past Dean’s, and his rippling muscles still spoke to his massive strength. “Well, glad you’re lookin’ more and more prosperous.”

Venny smirked again, holding up another glass. “Here. Mint Julep. That’s what you do down South, right? Sit on the porch, drink Mint Juleps?”

“Uh-huh.” Dean leaned in a bit, their bellies pressing against each other. “Where’s yer moose and maple syrup?”

“Hey, fair enough.”

The doughy stag took a sip of Venny’s Mint Julep, and immediately gagged. “Uh… just, what did ya’ll reckon a Mint Julep is?”

“It’s like… beer with mint in it, right?”

Dean sighed, picking up his food bags again. “Why don’t ya let me take care of the refreshments? Ya’ll just relax.”

Venny smiled wide. “Just so long as you make sure there’s enough food this time. I’m gonna show you just how big my appetite can get.”