Arro continues to run into problems as he tries desperately to fix his mistake. Rangavar continues to flee from the dragon that tried to kill him. But their paths may cross again, if Arro's massive midsection puts him in the right place at the right time.

This chapter has another bout of stuckage to enjoy, all due to a bit of greedy gorging...

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Kill, Marry, Fuck
Chapter 4


Arro couldn’t get out of that building fast enough. Even though he’d left the interviewer happily in his office, and no one else knew what just happened, he felt the urge to hide his face from every other dragon he passed. When had the hallway gotten so full? He abruptly realized it was already lunchtime. He’d really been in the office that long.
Being the larger dragon, he constantly had to pause and let others pass him, seemingly every few steps. He rolled his eyes impatiently every time someone new squeezed in front of him, and switched to apologizing profusely every time his wide hips bumped into someone else. It was taking forever to reach the other end of the hallway.


Rangavar was suddenly bowled over by someone slamming into him with their massive gut. He caught himself against the wall. He hadn’t been able to dodge the impressive girth.
The packed hallway was a blend of sights, sounds, smells, auras— basically every one of his senses was flooded to capacity. He hadn’t noticed the dragon come out of nowhere. He had been focused only on getting to the end of the hall, hoping they had decided to hire him despite not showing up yesterday to sign any paperwork.
He wasn’t really sure how he would explain that. He’d already decided not to tell anyone about his experience the other day. Telling others he’d been the victim of attempted murder seemed like not just TMI, but sort of a mood killer.
Rangavar shot a glare at the dragon who’d knocked him over. “Watch it!”
He immediately realized his mistake as the massive dragon looked down. Vaugh dammit. It wasn’t an employee; it was Jade’s other mate. His senses were so overwhelmed that he hadn’t recognized his aura, even this close. His eyes widened in shock. “How—”
“Look, I need to talk to you.” The Faerian reached out and clasped his arm in a tight grip. The smaller dragon tried to tug free, but he couldn’t back up any farther; two employees had stopped to chat directly behind him. He considered trying to catch their attention instead. Or anyone’s attention.
Arro guessed his thoughts. “Not a sound,” he warned. “I just want to talk. Let’s go somewhere quieter.”
Rangavar reluctantly let himself be dragged down the hall by the other dragon. He was having a bit of trouble parting the crowd, but held tightly to Rangavar’s arm the whole time. His entire fat paw was large enough to wrap all the way around his scrawny wrist, making it impossible to jerk away.
I should really start working out, Rangavar cursed quietly. Darkals were naturally strong, but since their strength came from magic, it wasn’t much incentive to muscle up. He supposed it didn’t really matter how strong he was when his enemies could just fling him around.
They passed a room with a narrow, rectangular window, through which they could see the lights were off inside, the room lit only by natural sunlight through the windows on the far wall. Arro jerked open the door, finding it unlocked. Looking around quickly, he barged inside, yanking Rangavar behind him.
The room was empty. Rangavar wondered if motion lights would flicker on at their presence, giving them away, but the room remained dim.
The fat dragon sat him down into a chair, still refusing to let go of his arm. “Listen. I want to apologize. But, for real this time.”
“Oh, wow, that makes everything better.” Rangavar rolled his eyes. “Can I go now? I need to go beg for a job here. I mean, so that you know where to stalk me some more, of course.”
Arro grimaced. “I know I fucked up. Like, more than most people fuck up, ever. I don’t know how to fix it, but I… I want to.”
“Well, you could start by letting me go and not ruining my life right now. Or, you know, taking it,” he added bitterly.
Arro hung his head. He pleaded, “Okay, how about this.” His grip was really starting to hurt on his arm, but the Faerian didn’t care. Or didn’t notice. “Why don’t we grab drinks for real this time. Or lunch. And talk it over?”
Rangavar was incredulous. “You really think I would let you near my food, even if I were interested in that??”
“Okay, that’s completely fair.” The dragon leaned forward earnestly. “But I threw out the pills. And you’re a Darkal, so you can tell when I’m lying, so you know that I’m not lying about that.”
Okay, yeah. He wasn’t lying when he said that.
“Please, give me another chance?” he begged.
Rangavar sighed. “I won’t give you ‘another chance’, but I WILL sit down and talk this over later, if it’ll get you to finally leave me alone. And get you to stop squeezing my arm.”
Arro suddenly let go. Some of the scales were cracked from where he’d held it in his vice grip, and he looked mortified. “Sorry.”
Rangavar stood. “Alright. I’ll meet you at that little dingy diner across from the hotel you’re staying in. At dusk.” He glanced out the window. “On this world, that’s probably a few hours from now.”
“Sounds great.” Arro sighed with relief. He looked into Rangavar’s eyes, his own boring into them intensely. Rangavar hadn’t previously noticed how blue they were. “Thank you.”
“Well, I need to go.” Rangavar turned and headed quickly for the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a job to get.”



Streetlamps flickered on as the sky turned pink, the tall posts topped with pleasant orbs of light. The dragons on this world had obviously adapted well to the short days here, turning the dark into a beautiful substitution for their missing sunlight.
Rangavar drummed his claws on the table, staring out the window. He was slightly more relaxed now that he’d gotten the job. The blue dragon in the office had let him sign without needing much of an explanation for his late response to the offer.
He was still a bit anxious about the meeting with Arro, but at least he was more prepared than last time. No surprises; they were on even ground now. Still, Rangavar definitely wasn’t going to eat any food around him, despite Arro telling the truth about getting rid of the pills.
Growing a bit bored, he picked at one of the crushed scales on his arm. The area was deeply bruised. He flexed his fingers, observing the pain where the muscles stretched.
An aura he’d come to recognize quite well suddenly walked within range of his senses, and he put his arm out of view beneath the table as the unmistakable shape plodded through the door. Arro quickly spotted him, and made his way through the little room.
The table creaked in protest as the Faerian tried to slide his body into the booth. A few rolls of fat surged over the surface of the table, while he wriggled his butt to scoot farther underneath. His chubby belly was pressed tight against the edge of the table by the time he settled himself. Rangavar was more surprised that his massive weight wasn’t crushing his thick, stubby tail beneath him, but supposed the large dragon might just be used to the feeling.
A friendly looking Gemian came over to the table. “What are you getting?”
“I’m not getting anything.” Rangavar cast a glance at Arro.
Arro stared back at him with a guilty expression. Then he glanced down at the menu, flipping it over quickly. “Can I get the, uh…” He quickly scanned the page. “Can I get some bread for now?”
“Sure thing.” She collected the menus, smiled, and walked away.
Rangavar folded his paws on the table. “So…”
Arro’s eyes were suddenly drawn to the huge dark spot on his arm. Rangavar had forgotten about the bruise. “Did I do that?” He smacked his forehead. “I can’t seem to stop fucking up.”
Rangavar could feel his genuine frustration. He shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Darkals heal really quickly, it’ll just go away.” He tried to sound unconcerned. “I could actually just heal it with magic right now, but I won’t even bother.” It was true it really wouldn’t be worth it since it would disappear in a day or two on its own.
Rangavar was a bit old-fashioned regardless; he hadn’t always had magic, spending most of his life just living naturally. In some ways, he supposed that was a good thing, since it gave him a legitimate excuse for why he was so spectacularly bad at using it.
Arro was holding his head in his paws. “I’m a trype,” he explained. “Sometimes I don’t realize I do stuff like that.”
Rangavar frowned. “What’s a trype?”
“Well, you know.” Arro shrugged a little, but couldn’t move very much because of how tightly his belly hugged the table. “My genes have the type one, two, and three mutations. Three different types. That’s what they call it.”
“Why don’t they just say that, then?” One of the worst parts of being cut off from other worlds for so long was linguistic drift. He felt constantly out of the loop ever since returning, finding that so much was different.
The big Faerian shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s easier, I guess.”
Rangavar eyed the Faerian curiously. Even though he had the experimental genes for unnatural strength, speed, and senses, he seemed to be wasting them, by the look of his waistline. Or, he mused, maybe the big dragon was using all that extra strength to propel his massive body. It explained why his thick arms and legs still seemed muscled and strong beneath the poofy coat of fat.
The waitress returned with the bread. She smiled while putting it on the table. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she offered. She also put two glasses of water on the table. After she’d turned around, Rangavar pushed his away.
She’d brought more than bread enough for two dragons as well, perhaps forgetting that one wouldn’t be eating. Arro happily began picking up the giant, buttery rolls and shoving them into his mouth.
Rangavar tried not to watch, feeling rude. He looked out the window.
“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Arro held out one, his pudgy cheeks stuffed.
“I’m fine.”
“That’s too bad. These are great.”
Rangavar looked sideways at the Faerian as he began wolfing down the rolls, shoving them into his mouth one after the other. He wanted to remind the Faerian why they were really here, but found himself strangely unwilling to break the trance. He watched with morbid fascination, the other dragon quickly tearing through the plate of bread, barely stopping for breath.
The smaller dragon only spoke up when Arro was done. “So, what happens now? I don’t mind just… forgetting this whole thing ever happened,” he offered. “Presumably, with the caveat that you’ll leave me alone after this. And uh, try not to kill anyone.”
Arro blushed, huffing and puffing a little, looking a bit bloated in his seat. “I plan on getting out of here. I already checked, and the next flight home is in a few days.” He looked down at the table. “I really appreciate you taking the time to talk about this. I wish I could make it right somehow.”
Rangavar leaned back in his seat, beginning to relax. “Well, leaving me alone makes it at least a bit better.”
Arro leaned back too, the plate of bread gone. Just then, the waitress appeared. “Anything else?” she asked sweetly.
The stuffed Faerian cast a glance at Rangavar. “You’re not going to get anything while you’re here?”
“Uh…” He supposed it was true he was a bit hungry. And he was feeling better about the situation over all. “I guess I’ll have some bread too, before I go.”
When she came back with the bread a few minutes later, it was the same portion as before. “Enjoy!”
Rangavar eyed the plate. “That’s a lot of bread.” He already knew he couldn’t eat it all. It was such a waste.
“If it’s too much, can I have some?”
Rangavar looked up to see Arro staring at it hungrily. He supposed since the Faerian was so big, it must take a lot to fill him up. “Oh, sure, go ahead.”
Rangavar took a roll off the plate, only a second before Arro started grabbing at them and stuffing them into his mouth. He was genuinely enjoying them, his aura humming with pleasure, some of the crumbs falling down his belly.
Rangavar found himself staring again, but fortunately, the fat dragon appeared oblivious.
Soon, it was time to pay. Arro looked satisfied, his paws resting on top of his swollen gut. It bulged out over the table more firmly now, his belly stuffed with dense, heavy grains. His thick lovehandles settled around him, pulled taut by the expansion of his trapped rolls being pulled and squished in the booth. It was bulging, stuffed from within by the pressure of four people’s worth of bread tucked away, minus the one roll Rangavar had managed to snatch.
Arro held up his arm, revealing a wristband that the waitress scanned, his pudge bulging around it tightly. Rangavar noticed that everyone seemed to be wearing one, and hadn’t known what they were for until now.
Rangavar held out his card.
The dragon frowned at it. “We can’t do anything with that.”
“What are you talking about?” He had plenty of credits to pay for the meal. In the past, he would just hand over the card, they’d see his name and photo on the front, and scan it.
“I haven’t seen one of those in hundreds of years. We don’t have the equipment for it. Sorry.” She eyed his empty arm. “I need to scan the credits on your wristband, if you can get it out, please.
Rangavar flattened his ears. This was ridiculous. “I don’t have a wristband,” he softly growled.
“Just put his order with mine,” Arro interjected. He glanced at Rangavar and shrugged. “I ate most of your order anyway.”
He was still a bit miffed afterwards, but at least it was time to go. He rose from the table. “Hey, uh, I’m glad we had this talk. I wouldn’t have chosen to on my own. Thanks for convincing me.”
Arro pressed his lips together. “I’m sorry about your arm.”
Rangavar shrugged it off as he turned to go. He was about to answer ‘I’ll live’ but realized it would come off as a terrible pun.
Arro rose from the table too. Or, well, he tried to.
Rangavar turned back around as he heard the Faerian grunt.
It was quite a sight. Arro tried squeezing out of the booth the way he’d wedged in, but now that his ample midsection was swollen with food, it was proving far more difficult to wriggle back out. The swell of fat pushed against the table, all of his rolls jiggling as he jerked back and forth a few times.
Rangavar could feel the unfortunate dragon’s growing embarrassment. He glanced up at Rangavar, blushing furiously. “Sorry,” he panted. “This happens all the time.” He became even more mortified upon realizing what he’d said. “I mean, like, not ALL the time—”
The Darkal sighed, and put out his paw. “I’ll pull you out.” He mostly wanted to just walk away, leaving the dragon to strain and struggle. It wouldn’t even come close to comparing what he did to Rangavar. But there was something sadistically funny about watching the fat Faerian trapped in the seat, puffing and red in the face.
Arro grabbed his paw, and the small Darkal pulled. To his surprise, Arro didn’t even budge, really stuck in there. Okay, that didn’t go as planned. He’d thought the Faerian might slip out with a hard yank from outside.
Rangavar wrapped both of his paws around this time. Arro’s huge, meaty one still managed to fill them. “When I pull, you shove. Got it?”
Arro nodded shyly.
They strained and struggled, the ball of fat squishing uselessly against the edge of the table. Other patrons were staring at them by now, even the waitress a bit amused. Rangavar could feel their emotions because he was a Darkal, but wondered if Arro noticed. As far as Rangavar could tell, he’d just been steadily drowning in humiliation the whole time.
They paused for breath at one point, the smaller dragon leaning on the table. He couldn’t believe that at the very least, the bolts holding it to the wall and floor hadn’t loosened.
“You can go if you want. I’m sorry for this,” groaned the stuck Faerian. “It’s super unfair to ask for your help, after what I did.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” Rangavar wiped some sweat off his brow. “But since you paid for my dinner, it wouldn’t be right to leave you here.”
Arro stared down at his bulging belly, abashed.
Rangavar eyed the squishy mass. “I have a new idea.” He reached out to touch it. Arro jerked a little in surprise, but the Darkal wasn’t trying to hurt him. He pushed his fingers into the soft adipose for a second. “What if we, just, sort of ‘kneaded’ it until we work it out the side of the booth?” It felt pretty malleable to his touch. “If that makes sense.”
“Oh, uhhh…”
Rangavar took his paw away. “I mean, I won’t if you don’t want me to, obviously.” “You probably don’t want me touching you.” He hadn’t even realized.
“No, no, it’s fine.” The stuck dragon looked up at him, still blushing furiously. “It will probably be faster with two people.”
They quickly got to work on the new approach. Rangavar’s small fingers sank in pretty deep, the soft pale-white stripe of belly stretched wide across Arro’s front. He gently started to push at the fat directly around the edge. It surged around the table at his touch, creased and irritated by now due to its imprisonment.
Slowly, Arro’s bloated midsection began to move, as they pushed, squeezed, and kneaded the large mass. The smaller rolls and chub jiggled and shook as Arro finally reached the edge of the bench, his waistline straining against the corner. “If I twist, I think I got it now—”
Rangavar stood back. With a final jerk, Arro popped out of the booth. The force of the tug sent him flying forward, where he crashed against Rangavar, and they both fell to the ground.
Arro was on top, smothering him. Rangavar pressed up against Arro’s enveloping pudge. “Get off, I can’t breathe!” The Faerian was incredibly heavy.
Arro scrambled to his feet, as fast as he could against gravity. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He held out a paw to help Rangavar up.
After a hesitant moment, Rangavar took it.
“So.” He cast his eyes downward shyly. “Can we get out of here?”
Rangavar glanced around at all the people in the diner, whom had politely gone back to pretending they hadn’t noticed the incredible spectacle. “Yeah, that sounds good right about now.”
The air outside was crisp now that the sun had set. It was a pleasant relief from the stuffy diner. Arro’s hotel was across the street, and he went to cross.
After a nervous moment of thought, Rangavar followed. “Hey, um, this is the closest hotel to where I work now.”
The hefty Faerian glanced back.
“So... I’m going to be staying here. Until I can get a place.” He caught up to Arro on the curb on the other side of the street, in front of the hotel doors. “So it’s not like I’m following you or anything. I just—”
“Yeah, makes sense.” Arro looked down at him curiously.
They awkwardly went through the doors one after the other.
A red-scaled Gemian was behind the front desk. Rangavar slid his card across it. She picked it up and frowned. “What the hell is this?”
“Uh, my ID card?” Not this again. “It has way more credits than however many a single-bed room costs.”
She slid it back towards him. “We don’t accept these. I have to see your wristband.”
Rangavar flattened his ears. “I don’t have one. Where I’m from, we—”
“Hun, I don’t really care where you’re from.” She stared at him sternly. “I can’t give you a room with that.”
“Oh, you’re a hotel for fuck’s sake.” He leaned both paws on the counter. “Your entire job is to give rooms to people from other places!”
“Hey, um, I think I can help,” peeped a shy voice from the hallway.
Rangavar realized that rather than going into his room, Arro had paused to eavesdrop.
He gazed back at them, pressing his index fingers together. “You could just stay in my room again. It’s fine, really.”
Rangavar and the receptionist glared at each other until she shrugged.
The Darkal slowly walked down the hallway. He spread his paws as he approached. “Why?” was all he could think to ask.
Arro fidgeted his claws. “I already know that nothing will ever make up for what I did. But just… let me try, okay? Just accept my help?”
“Not like I have much of a choice.” Rangavar jabbed a thumb back over his shoulder. “What’s her problem?”
The large Faerian shrugged. “I dunno. She was fine when I carried you in over my shoulder the other night.”
Rangavar’s face grew warm. “Is… is that how that went?” He’d pictured himself, well, maybe stumbling in or something. Not slung over the Faerian’s fat shoulder.
Tired, Arro sat down on the bed. The mattress groaned heavily beneath his weight. He rubbed his eyes. “I’m going to stay on this side of the bed again, so you’ll fit on the other side.”
“Sounds alright to me.” After all the unexpected physical labor at the diner, Rangavar realized that he was tired, too. He gingerly got into bed, careful not to brush his wings against the huge mound of dragon behind him. He supposed it didn’t matter, though, since they would have to press up against each other again to fit.
“Thanks,” he said begrudgingly after a long moment. “For this, I mean.”
“It’s no problem.” He heard Arro yawn as he shimmied the rest of his body onto the bed, against Rangavar’s back. The Darkal closed his eyes at the warmth and drifted off to sleep.