The fat Faerian is on the hunt, and won't let anything stand in his way as he destroys the dragon who hurt his mate. Well, maybe his big belly a few times. But never mind that! He'll find a way...

(This chapter of the story is SFW with some minor swear words)

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Kill, Marry, Fuck,
Chapter 2


Jade was happy for Arro when she heard he’d found a job opportunity on Karraden that happened to pay three times as well as his current position at the office, although she was a bit worried about whether or not he’d run into her friend.
“I’ll be careful,” he said neutrally. He was quite experienced at saying strictly-true statements around her, as Gemians tended to be little living lie-detectors.
She held him, staring up into his eyes, her arms not quite able to fit all the way around his ample girth. “How did you hear about this job again?” she frowned. “You weren’t doing a bit of snooping about Karraden because of what happened earlier, were you?”
He pulled her close. “Well, mayyyyybe a little bit,” he admitted. “But once I poked around, I realized that there’s a ton of up and coming jobs since they’re taking in Glitarian refugees.” All true facts.
She leaned her head on the curve of his protruding chub. “You’d better keep in touch.”
“I don’t plan on being gone that long.” He extinguished the dark thoughts and feelings that came with that statement before she could sense them. Why bother her with his malicious plan? She’d never even have to know.
Later that night, Arro departed. He had used his not-very-legal computer skills to look up the most likely times that the Darkal might be setting off for Karraden, and Arro made sure to choose one of those, hoping not to fall too far behind his prey. The sooner he could catch him on Karraden, the less questions there would be from the locals; no one would know him yet. No one would notice one little Darkal go missing if he only appeared to be passing through.
Arro took up two spaces on the bench inside the ship, which was fine because not many people were boarding this late at night. He went to pull on the seatbelt, but it stopped short around his vast figure. He tugged on it a few more times, to make sure it wasn’t just caught, but no. It sank into his squishy fat even when he sucked in his belly. He sighed.
Sometimes, when seeing him coming, attendants would automatically bring him a belt extender, as their job clearly included knowing the dimensions of the seatbelts. And sometimes, when seeing him coming, attendants decided to be pricks instead.
He heard them snickering in the background as he strained. “Excuse me,” he called out. His cheeks grew hot with embarrassment as he was forced to announce his personal problem to the entirety of the flight. “Can I get one of those little extenders?”
“Yes, of course,” said one of the attendants, the others stifling their laughter in the background.
To Arro’s dismay, even when attaching the belt extender, he found that it was also too short. He still had to huff and strain to squish it around his massive belly. Vaugh dammit, I’ve gotten fatter, he cursed himself, remembering that the last time he flew anywhere he hadn’t had this problem.
He yanked at the belt, which still didn’t quite go all the way around. It squished his fat rolls between the clips at each end. He tried wriggling a bit so that it might sit on top of the big roll instead. It strained against the fattest part of his belly and started to sink under the roll above it. He was still blushing furiously since he could sense everyone else on the flight’s attention on him, even though they were politely but awkwardly trying to look elsewhere.
He tried to physically push his belly out of the way with a paw, the love handles bulging around the belt, refusing to budge. He hefted the huge ball of fat, his fingers squishing into it. It was winning this fight.
The same attendant from earlier approached. “Excuse me.” His friends were still hanging out at the far end of the aisle, grinning while they watched. “Would you like an extender for your extender?”
The attendants in the background burst out laughing.
Arro squirmed uncomfortably in embarrassment, his fat jiggling around. “Yes, please.”


The rest of the flight was without incident. Arro breathed a sigh of relief as he walked off the ship on the new world, glad that was over with. He was used to such occurrences in his day-to-day life, but not everyone treated him like shit about it, so it was always a surprise how his day would go.
The flight had taken only several days, but Arro felt good to be walking around without his body crammed into the tiny seats. Never mind that his thick thighs brushed together and his arms leaned on the curve of his love handles. It was still nice to stretch his muscles.
He used his impressive height to his advantage, trying to spot any familiar-looking Darkals nearby. It wasn’t at all likely that the one he was looking for would conveniently be arriving at the exact same time, but hey, ya’ never know.
As he wandered, Arro looked up directions to the Glitarian research facility on his wristwatch. He wasn’t ready to start hacking into hotel logs just yet, seeing as how it was midday, and the source of the job itself seemed like a good place to start.
He had actually just woken up on the ship, as his body was still a little bit out of sync with the new world he’d landed on, but it only meant he felt more bright and alert. He looked around curiously as he walked; the streets were filled with a blend of Faerians and Gemians. The two species could be told apart by Gemians’ entirely straight horns, including the eyehorn on their forehead. Faerians tended to have thick, curved or jagged horns, and unlike Gemians, none of them had an extra horn over their proverbial third eye.
Faerians also tended to be taller, which was working to Arro’s advantage right now as the hefty Faerian could see over most of the crowd.
It took him only a short while to find out where the research lab was, but he was having trouble finding transportation. It turned out that the days on this world were balanced differently than he was used to, and the sky was already getting dark. The nightlife was strong, as dragons were used to being awake a certain number of hours in a day, regardless of the light outside. But the lab only operated until dusk. He supposed it was time to start searching hotels, then.
Only half an hour later, he was disappointed to admit that he couldn’t seem to find any hotel logs listing Darkals as occupants. Some hotels didn’t even list species though, which was making the search a little harder. Worse still, he found there were a couple of places he just couldn’t seem to hack at all, their systems running on different codes than he was used to. He was forced to book his own hotel at random. At least he knew where his target wanted to work, so he wasn’t completely at a loss for how to find him.
On the way to find his hotel of choice, he ducked into a side shop, the sign outside advertising different medications and substances. He knew what he wanted, and may as well pick it up now.
Arro walked along the shelves, eventually finding what he was looking for. Here, the drug was proudly named ‘Kill Switch’, which seemed a bit culturally insensitive, but what did he know. Technically, it was an apt description, since it was invented to kill Darkals back when they used to be hunted.
“Find what you’re looking for?” said a worker behind him.
He glanced back at the pale gray Gemian standing there. “Yeah, actually. I’m just trying to decide if I should get the pills or the injections.” If he got the injections, he’d have to buy other supplies. But he also wasn’t really sure which route he wanted to go in general. Which was the best way to kill?
If he could poison the Darkal somehow, he could disappear as the dragon keeled. But he wasn’t sure how he would get that close to his food to add pills without being noticed. On the other paw, in order to inject him with a substance, he would have to get close enough to grab him, then hold him still, then make sure he used enough. And he didn’t really know what he was doing. He’d never committed murder before.
“Hmm.” The Gemian scratched his chin. “It depends on what you’re using it for. Pain relief? You know that this substance can kill even a Darkal in thirty minutes, and a Faerian in much less. May I recommend something less strong?”
“Oh, I need something strong,” Arro stammered. He tried to think of a excuse other than being about to kill someone.
Fortunately, the employee gave him an out. “Oh, I see. Planning to get into some fights tonight, eh?” he winked. “We see lots of dragons from the ring around here.”
Arro had no idea what that meant, but he just shyly nodded, grateful for the save.
The Gemian reached past him, straining to get around Arro’s wide figure to reach the shelf. He plucked off a bottle of pills. “These are easier than the shots. If you can’t chew,” he grinned and made the motion of getting punched in the jaw, “you can just as easily drop them into a drink and chug it down.
“But it is VERY important you take the very smallest dose,” he stressed. He looked the Faerian up and down. “I mean, this would knock most Faerians flat. I mean, maybe not you, of course— Like, uh, you probably, well…” He was stuttering as he visibly forced himself not to eye Arro’s mass.
Arro took the bottle from his paw. “I’ll be careful,” he said. It was his turn to give the employee a save.
As he left the shop, he discreetly pocketed the bottle into the leather bag strapped against his thigh. He supposed he could just disappear it with the small amount of magic he knew. Since it was the only magic he could do at all, it was fun to practice sometimes. But he wanted it close at hand, and also didn’t want to end up struggling to conjure it back and miss his chance to use it. If one pill was enough to knock back a Faerian, then he supposed he’d have to get a few pills into the Darkal to off him.
I’ll show him to mess with my mate, he thought aggressively. The little shit had no idea to what lengths Arro would go to protect his loved ones.
As he was plodding down the street, lost in thought, he noticed a small dragon with black horns pass beneath a street lamp ahead. His heart quickened. So far, on this world, Darkals had been few and far between; he was pretty sure he’d only spotted a few all day. Each time had been a false alarm.
This Darkal, though, was an incredibly dark shade of gray beneath the light. He hadn’t seen many dragons that shade; wherever they were from wasn’t anywhere he’d lived. It immediately stood out to him.
The Darkal who had hurt his mate had scales that dark. Arro’s keen eyes cut through the night as he honed in on his potential prey.
The Darkal was walking up to a tavern. As he went through the door, Arro caught a glimpse of his right cheek. He hadn’t caught a good look while in his own home, since he’d been standing on the wrong side of the doorway, but he’d noticed that his target had a distinctive scar. Now, stepping into the light of the building, Arro saw that this Darkal had a long, dark scar reaching from the end of his muzzle, all the way up his cheek to sharply pass his eye. It was too unmistakable to miss.
Gotcha.
He couldn’t believe his luck, and instantly changed course for the tavern.
As he neared, he began to sweat. He’d already come to terms with the fact that he would be waiting until tomorrow to make any moves. Now that it was bumped back onto tonight’s schedule, everything seemed to be happening faster, and he felt unprepared, even though he knew everything was ready. Arro gulped nervously as he walked through the wide doorway.
His eyes scanned the room, the distracting din intense to his sensitive ears. Finally, looking to his left, his gaze settled on the Darkal heading to a small empty table with a glass in his paw. He dropped into the chair looking exhausted from the day, and took a sip while sitting by himself.
Aha, here’s my chance, Arro thought, his heart quickening. He went up to the bar and asked for a drink of his own.



Rangavar rubbed his forehead. He’d been so nervous at the interview earlier, he was wondering if he blew it. It had been centuries since he’d had a change of career. The other dragon had seemed impressed though to learn that Rangavar, himself, had been one of the dragons trapped on Glitara. Very relevant to their research, he had said, to have ‘insider perspective.’ Whatever that was. Ehhh, he’d take it, if it increased his chances.
He sipped his drink, wishing he could just relax now and enjoy the evening. The drink was weak, not even close to his tolerance level. He had only just started, but was already debating getting another.
Just then, he noticed another dragon seemed to be making a beeline for his table. He creased his brow. The massive Faerian looked oddly familiar, but he couldn’t place him. He wondered if the buzz was getting to him. Maybe the drink wasn’t so bad. Still probably gonna get another, though, he thought.
The Faerian had to turn and squeeze around a sea of other patrons before stopping at Rangavar’s table. “Hey. Mind if I sit?”
It was a bit brash, but he seemed friendly. “Uh, I guess that’s fine.” Rangavar stared at the Faerian warily as he sat down. The huge dragon pulled out the chair as far as he could, but there wasn’t much space between the tables, so his massive belly still smashed against the table as he wriggled himself into his seat.
The Faerian seemed to know him, but after a moment, picked up on the fact that it wasn’t mutual. “You don’t remember me? We met a few days ago.”
“I wasn’t here a few days ago,” Rangavar explained. “You must be thinking of someone else.” He wasn’t surprised. On some worlds, Darkals were quite rare. The other species sometimes thought they all looked alike.
“No, um, not here.” The Faerian stammered. His heart was beating fast, presumably flustered. “I mean, I’m Jade’s mate.”
Rangavar’s ears shot up, his eyes widening. “Ohhh…” Now he saw it. He’d been trying not to think about the whole encounter, still in way too much pain. Jade was really gone. Half of his life, just gone.
“I know it’s a weird coincidence that we’re both passing by on Karraden right now,” the Faerian said. “But when I saw you, I just couldn’t pass up the chance to come over. I… I feel like we started out on the wrong foot,” he stammered.
Rangavar was a bit taken aback. Nothing the Faerian said had been a lie, though. Sometimes Faerians were adorable and forgot that the other species could tell. This one just seemed a bit nervous, not aggressive at all, and Rangavar was inclined to listen to him.
“Sorry, I know I might be overstepping,” the Faerian blushed.
Rangavar realized it was because he’d been staring oddly. “Oh. It’s okay, I think you’re right. About starting off on the wrong foot, I mean.”
The Faerian took a sip of his drink, staring at Rangavar over the rim of the glass. Rangavar did the same. An awkward silence stretched between them.
Rangavar set his glass back on the table. “So, uh, how is she?” Vaugh damn, this was awkward. At first his curiosity had been piqued, but now he realized he wasn’t at all in the mood for this.
“Oh, she was fine, after you left.” The other dragon’s tone changed a little bit.
Rangavar sighed. He wasn’t in the mood for childish wordplay, if that’s what this stranger thought they were going to do tonight. He glanced out the window, wondering if he could think of a polite reason to leave, or if it was acceptable to just be rude in this situation.
After a long moment, he turned back to the table. The Faerian was struggling with the flap on his hip bag. The strap of the bag was straining to its limit around his fat thigh, making the opening a little tight. Rangavar put his drink to his mouth, watching with amusement.
The dragon noticed him watching, and Rangavar could see the fear and embarrassment on his face.
He decided to leave before things got worse around the awkward dragon. “Okay, look, I’m not really in the mood for a chat.” He downed the rest of his drink. “I’m glad we saw each other again, though. No hard feelings, alright?” he said, in a hurry to leave.
The dragon stopped fidgeting with his bag. “Oh. Okay.” Rangavar felt the Faerian sigh with relief. Apparently, despite being the one to approach him, even he realized that this conversation wasn’t going well.
Rangavar put out his paw. “It was nice to formally meet you, uh…”
“Arro,” the dragon supplied. He clasped the paw and shook. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch your name, either.”
Rangavar tried to match his grip, but his stomach was suddenly feeling a bit queasy. He shouldn’t have chugged the drink so fast. “Rangavar.”
Arro suddenly snatched his paw away. “YOU’RE Rangavar?” His eyes stretched with shock. “You… you’re…”
Rangavar immediately realized his mistake. Of course, Jade would have mentioned his name to her new mate, when talking about her past. Fuck. He blew it. The entire point of leaving was so that he wouldn’t know who he was. Rangavar was supposed to just disappear, with Arro none the wiser.
He stood up, trying to form a response, but words escaped him. The entire table suddenly curved and warped from beneath him, and his legs were too weak to hold him. Shit, that drink hadn’t tasted strong at all. Why couldn’t he stand? He noticed he was slumped back in the seat again, not remembering when it happened. The room was spinning. He tried focusing on something, anything. He stared at the glass on the table. He noticed that there was some sort of chalky residue around the inside.
Fuck. His brain couldn’t figure out what he was looking at right now, but his subconscious knew it meant he should leave. He went to stand again. He reached for the table to steady himself but couldn’t see it anymore. The room was very dim, and it sounded far away. He did hear the glass in his paw shatter as it hit the ground, along with the rest of him.


Arro wriggled out of his chair as the Darkal hit the ground. He cursed himself for being stupid. Jade was upset because he was her prior mate, apparently resurrected from the dead? If he’d been trapped on Glitara alive this whole time, it was obvious now why he’d come here for the research. It explained why Jade was in tears at telling him to leave. The pieces seemed obvious when he could look at them together.
He struggled to get up, his chair unable to move back farther as it rudely knocked into other chairs. He heaved, his belly caught under the table. He twisted and turned until he was able to squirm out. He consciously straightened the bag strapped to his leg when he stood, making sure the flap was closed so that nothing fell out on accident. He’d only snuck two pills into the dragon’s drink, heart pounding loud in his ears the whole time, not sure he could add any more before Rangavar noticed. He’d still been caught, scared out of his mind for a moment, but the Darkal hadn’t even realized what he’d been doing.
Well, it appeared to be working. All the patrons around them were staring at the spectacle of the apparently drunken Darkal spilling onto the floor, some laughing, some looking concerned.
“Wow, buddy, you’ve had too much to drink!” Arro said loudly. Maybe a bit too loudly. He gulped, as if he could swallow his nerves. Trying to sound jovial, like he was watching his friend’s usual crazy antics, he exclaimed, “Let’s get you home!”
He dragged his belly through a couple of tight squeezes, muttering “Sorry!” under his breath a few times as he knocked into other people’s chairs with his huge waistline.
Arro bent down and tried to help the Darkal off the floor. He wasn’t really sure what kind of timeframe the pills gave him, but it was evident the dragon already couldn’t stand. He ended up just awkwardly grabbing him under the armpits and hauling him up.
He kept his grip under one of Rangavar’s arms, trying to throw the other arm over his own shoulder, and held him tightly to his side. He hoped it looked like draping a drunken friend over his arm to help him stumble out of the bar, although Rangavar’s feet were dragging more than stumbling. He hoped no one would notice, or at least that no one would be suspicious. He wasn’t sure the bouncer let dragons just cart other, unconscious dragons off into the night.
The bouncer eyed them as they passed through the entryway, but didn’t say anything. Out of earshot, Arro breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad that they hadn’t thought to stop to ask about his blacked-out ‘friend’. At the same time, he thought that was kind of shitty of them.
After a point, Arro dropped the charade and hauled Rangavar up over his shoulder, the smaller dragon completely limp by now. He was lucky Rangavar was a Darkal; he didn’t weigh too much at all.
Arro mused, on his way back to his hotel, that he could technically dip into an alleyway right now and finish the job. He could smash him, suffocate him, or just dump more of those pills into his mouth. No one would know.
At the same time, he was having some major second thoughts. This dragon had been Jade’s mate. She didn’t want him dead. His resolve weakened as he realized, she hadn’t told Rangavar to go away because his return hurt her.
She told him to go away before his return hurt me.
He was ashamed of himself.
And to think I was even going to kill him.
As those words whispered at the back of his mind, he observed his thoughts were officially in the past tense now. He didn’t want to kill this guy. Unfortunately, he knew it might be too late. But the dragon was still hanging in there; maybe two pills hadn’t been enough.
Arro knew if they were, then he’d die in the hotel room and everyone around them would feel it telepathically. Arro would either have to flee into the night or go to jail for the rest of his life. He supposed if it came to that, he deserved it. Shit, what had he done? What had he been thinking? Thinking with his stupid heart instead of his head again.
Thankfully, the stern-looking Gemian in the lobby didn’t ask about his ‘drunk’ friend as she handed him the key card to his room. He was holding Rangavar across his arms at this point, and lay him as gently as possible on the bed. He stood back and surveyed his work in shame. The Darkal looked peaceful though, not sick or foaming at the mouth or anything. Is that what would happen if he succumbed to the pills? The fat Faerian didn’t really know.
The bed wasn’t big enough for both Arro’s huge body, and another person nearby, especially without touching each other, so he decided to lie on the floor. Maybe it was weird that he wasn’t taking the bed in his own room, but he figured he wasn’t the one who deserved it after all this.
All he could do now was anxiously await the outcome. It was going to be a long night.