“Please, Morris, we always go to the Lantern Festival together.”
“I’m sorry, Kaffi, I just… I just can’t go out looking like… Like this.”
“But everyone wants to see you. They haven’t seen you in months.”
“They just want to mock me.”
“That’s not true. They all miss you.”
“-sigh-...”
“I heard that Oleg will be making more of those pumpkin profiteroles you like so much again this year.”
“...”
“And Stein made another cask of special spiced mead for the festival.“
“...Maybe I could come out for just a little while.”
“We’ll get some sweets and come straight home. -mwah-”

That conversation repeated itself in Morris’ head over and over as he awkwardly waddled down the dirt road with his husband at his side, like the squawking calls of some bird too close to his bedroom window in the early morn. Tonight was the night of the Lantern Festival, one of the most jovial celebrations every year in Amber Hollow which ushered in the start of the harvest. The ordinarily dark earthen streets of the village were bathed in the beautiful orange glow of strings of oil lamps hung like garland between oaken posts and candles placed into carved pumpkins which lined the streets and filled the air with their sweet scent. Even out in the fields he could see the dancing lights of hand lamps belonging to farmers and volunteers as they continued reaping their harvest long into the night.

Although it should’ve been a joyous night, Morris couldn’t help but feel nervous. It had been three months since that disastrous day at the tavern when he turned blue and practically swelled to the size of a house after a pint of suspicious ale. Since then, nobody had really seen blue hide nor violet hair of the normally brash bull. He took to doing his woodsman duties in the early hours of the morning when no one would notice him before returning home to wallow in self-pity. He thought eventually he’d go back to normal once all the juice was squeezed out of him but he never did.

Any sense of normalcy in his life was gone and replaced with all the embarrassing quirks of being a giant living blueberry. He was always slowly swelling with juice which made wearing any kind of clothes a countdown until he inevitably burst out of them. He found himself constantly craving sweets desperately. Anything he touched stained itself with the violet kiss of the sweet juice he was always faintly sweating. And in the later days of the month he’d get so swollen with sweet nectar he could barely even walk, let alone do things like forage, cook, chop wood, or even wash himself. He’d have to rely completely on his loving husband, Kaffi, to do all those things for him. Sometimes he would get so swollen he’d lose the ability to move entirely, reduced to a taut blue sphere which Kaffi would have to roll down to the foundation of the old forrester’s cabin he had transformed into a juicing pit so he could squeeze Morris back down to a size where he could function again and the vicious cycle could begin again.

‘Why does the festival always have to be at the end of the month?’ Morris cursed internally as he was nearing peak ripeness of a particularly juicy cycle. Every lumbering step he took was a harrowing battle between him and gravity as he practically had to swing his entire body from side to side just to complete a single stride, fighting against the hundreds of gallons of juice which he could feel sloshing about inside his swollen belly. Thankfully, he had Kaffi by his side to keep him from rolling away into the forest. No matter how badly he may have wanted to. He felt like a blimp. Not so much in the attractive way like a man with a regal figure fills a street with his corpulence but rather like an oversized carnival balloon for people to gawk at from miles away.

It took nearly an hour for him to waddle down to the village center, something he was previously able to do in just a brief 15 minute stroll. The village was absolutely bustling with activity as people moved about between stands selling all manner of food and drinks, children played games of chance and skill, and couples danced to the trio of bards filling the space with their beautiful music. Tonight should’ve been a night filled with nothing but joy but Morris couldn’t help but notice how everyone near him turned their heads to look at him with an expression of shock. Turning to whomever they were with to say something, no doubt about the massive blueberry being ushered through the crowd like some kind of parade float, a few even pointing fingers at him as inconspicuous as they could. Suddenly, a few pumpkin-filled pastries and some spiced mead didn’t seem worth the humiliation, but Morris knew there would be no way he’d be able to turn himself around without toppling over and squashing more than a few innocent bystanders.

“Kaffi, I… I think I should just go home… I’m just a disaster waiting to happen.” Morris said as Kaffi continued to lead him through the crowd of his fellow townsfolk who parted to give him the wide berth he needed.
“Nonsense, I’m here to support you.” The buck said tenderly, giving the bull’s taut blue belly a few reassuring pats. “I promise you, you have nothing to worry about. You’ll feel much better once you get some of Stein’s special mead in you.”

Morris sighed. Stein was the last person he wanted to see tonight. He hadn’t seen him since the incident and no doubt harbored some form of grudge against Morris since he made a mess of his tavern. He could only imagine the choice words the goat had in store for him. Three months and he couldn’t even muster the courage to come and apologize. It was pathetic. Still, Kaffi pulled the blue bovine along by the hand as fast as he could waddle to the wooden stall in front of the tavern where Stein was preoccupied filling bottles with his yearly brew and corking them. Morris tried to get away before he turned around but he couldn’t overcome the inertia of the juice in his belly in time. It took Stein a moment to make out just what the massive blue form before him was before his eyes shot wide open in shock.

“Kaffi and… Morris?” He said in befuddlement, gazing up at how massively round Morris had become since he last saw him.

Morris winced, bracing himself for whatever tirade he had been stewing on for the past three months to explode forth.

“It’s so good to finally see you!” Stein said with elation, “It’s been months, how have you two been?”
Morris was stunned, he didn’t know how to reply and just let out a confused “I, uh…”
“Oh, we’ve been just lovely!” Kaffi chimed in.
“That’s wonderful! Everyone’s been so worried about Morris since the incident but I’m glad to see you’re doing well. Seems like you’ve grown quite a bit since then!” Stein said with a hearty laugh.
“Err, yes, I guess I have.” Morris said, a deep purple blush appearing on his bloated cheeks.
“Oh yes he has,” Said Kaffi as he threw himself onto Morris’ expansive belly in the closest interpretation one could do with a husband the size of a small house. “It took a bit of getting used to at first with all the sweets he craves, the constant swelling and monthly juicings but I’ll tell you it just makes me love my big sweet berry bull more than ever.” The buck continued, nuzzling his head against the bull’s cerulean hide, lost in a reverie of love.
“Well I’m glad to see everything’s working out! Maybe I could convince you to part with some of that juice to make some wine?” Stein said.
“Of course. In fact it’s almost time for your monthly juicing, isn’t it Morris?”
“Ahr, Y-yes it is.” Morris said gingerly, embarrassed to be talking about his juicing in public.
“Excellent! Now, how about some mead? On the house of course, This year’s batch is my favorite so far!” Stein said, eagerly starting to fill a small carrying case with bottles of mead.
Morris was still flummoxed by Stein’s friendly demeanor.
“Uh, Stein?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you mad at me for destroying the tavern?”
“Of course not! Sure I was cursing you a bit as I was cleaning the place up but I know none of that was your fault. I tell you, that’s the last time I buy some strange brew from some cockamamie rambling merchant. I’m just glad you didn’t keel over or burst or something more grisly.” Stein put down everything he was working on to give the bull his full attention.
“And you don’t think I’m some kind of… Freak?”
“Absolutely not! It’s not your fault you are the way you are and we all love you all the same! In fact, I’ve even heard a few whispers of folks who’ve wanted to get all big’n’blue like you themselves. Don’t know why myself but whatever makes ‘em happy.”
Morris didn’t know how to respond, but he could feel the warmth of Stein’s acceptance spread through his heart.
“Now, how ‘bout a drink?” Stein said, holding a fresh bottle of mead up to Morris’ swollen arm.
Suddenly, a smile of confidence spread across the bull-berry’s face. “Of course! I’m parched as a horse!” He boasted as he popped the cork out of the bottle and began to guzzle the sweet mead.

Perhaps this night wouldn’t be so bad after all.

---

Uhhhhh I don't know what to say here. I got the berry fever again but this time it seems permanent. I got an idea in my head one night and it seemed cute so I decided to draw it and the more I worked on it and the more I thought about it the more complex things got and that's how we got there. Still having a lot of fun playing around with more balloony shapes like this.

Also if you don't like the story it's okay I wrote it in like half a day so cut me some slack.