Bursting the Bear

Scott’s stomach yawned like an emerging landmass fighting to overtake the established greenery of the countryside. It cast a looming shadow over the fields, shading the long country roads and barring the sun. The rubble of a tavern which Selph had mistakenly believed could contain it lay scattered around its circumference, and dozens of cracked and splintered barrels running with dregs of mana brewed beer, was all that remained of the Crow and Basilisk’s famous cellar.

To a mage like Selph the beer provided a buzz and a refilling of his spent mana; Scott had no such magical talents, the volatile mana had to settle in his body by soaking into his flesh and expanding his fat. His stark white fur shimmered, the bright blue of raw mana showing through his taut skin. His crimson beard and hair-like sprawls of fur contrasting the azure that pulsed inside of him, threatening to blow him apart at the slightest sign of weakness. The polar bear had glutted himself on mana brew until he swelled to the size of a castle, not just the keep, but the grounds as well—but judging by the way his monstrous form groaned when he breathed, he probably didn’t have the same structural soundness.

“Another!” Scott called out, his lips still glittering from the last keg.

“You’ve had quite the amount,” Selph extended his reach in all directions, the long tendrils of transparent purple fog ending in mimicries of his clawed hands. Using his fog this way was the only chance he had to knead Scott’s expanse with any real efficiency, he had to mentally push with considerable force so that the bear could feel it. He was careful not to prod or squeeze too deeply, he wasn’t ready to go, not yet.

“Is that supposed to be a joke?” The ursine head atop the mountain called and laughed haughtily. His face was covered in the same short white fur as his belly, but it was ringed with a lush red that encircled it like a mane. That same crimson travelled down from his neck, across two breasts wide enough and ample enough to serve as the beds for hundreds of men. It continued its path along the curvature of his stomach until it reached his navel, which - by now - was cavernous and deep and could shelter a group of travellers from a storm. Though with how he vibrated with every laborious inhale and exhale, Selph doubted anyone would be foolish enough to step inside. It would be safer to seek shelter in the bosom of an irate dragon.

“It made you laugh, didn’t it?” Selph extended the reach of his spectral hands. He jumped and kept ascending, taking in Scott’s bloated magnitudes, until he reached a height where he could take in the full majesty of his friend.

If not for the thunderous gurgling, Scott might have been a serviceable snow-cap on which someone could lay the foundations for an impressive fortress. He looked up at the floating purple instigator of his gluttony. His cheeks were so fat and plump, they threatened to obscure the finer points of his expression. They swelled to the size of hot air balloons as Scott withheld a rising belch, until the blocked pressure could no longer be held back, and he released a sonic boom that carried sweet and bitter mana across the winds, and would be the only scents the nearby villagers would know for hours. Selph stayed perfectly anchored, despite the gale force belch, his magic operating on a different set of principles than the world’s, which allowed him to exempt itself from its interference.

Selph descended, perching himself on one of Scott’s breasts. He reached out with his actual hand and rubbed the bear’s nipple. It was rigid and when he ran his hand along its surface, the entirety of Scott’s body quivered as an aching expression tensed his gluttonous features. “Ugh, I’m trying to fight it, but I really, really want to do it...”

Selph knew what he meant, but he still wanted him to say it. “Sorry, I’m not sure what you mean by ‘it,’ you’re going to have to be more specific.” He snapped his fingers and raised six identical casks of mana beer into the air above the bear’s head. One by one, he wrenched them open with his fog hands, and made sure their contents were funnelled into Scott’s wanting maw.

He guzzled, eyes rolling back. Bubbling beer, so rich in mana a full cask would cause any normal beast to explode on the spot, made its way into his gut and churned into more size, growing his bodily dominion over the land at a breakneck pace. The far edges of his stomach razed the countryside, like a corpulent wave.

“What do you want to do, Scott?” Selph demanded.

Scott dribbled the bright blue liquid, letting it roll down his chins and form puddles where his landlocked body pushed against itself. He erupted with another belch, letting it escape him lazily, not making a show of it this time. He probably couldn’t, not at this point, it was a miracle he was still lucid. His capacity was terrifying, and alluring to Selph.

“I want to... explooooooooode.” Scott moaned. Selph could feel the tension in him, a lustful red feeling that pressed on his magical senses. Burst euphoria was a common thing among those who devoured magic, and infinitely more compromising to those who couldn’t wield it. It was an addictively pleasurable feeling to stockpile the infinitely dangerous and mysterious powers of the cosmos. Especially to such a hedonistic extreme like Scott had done tonight. If he had been a mage, he would probably have been testing his newfound power, thinking himself almighty and invincible. Without the ability to spend the mana he had stockpiled he had become something far simpler, though perhaps even more destructive.

He had become a bomb of pleasure. His durability acting against him, keeping him from reaching his climax. He needed someone else to tip him over the edge, someone else to light the fuse and watch it count down toward his release.

“You want to burst?”

Scott’s foot paws were buried, but his arms, monstrous and still capable of reaching his own chest, were not. Selph vanished as Scott grabbed his enormous moobs and handled them with a roughness that only came from someone about to reach climax. “Yeah,” he belched. “I want to make this thing blow,” the thing he referred to was his tightly packed, village sized belly. He made a strained face, the tumult of blue energy he was slowly failing to contain glowed aggressively beneath his skin.

“Then pop goes the bear,” Selph gathered his mana on his tongue and floated in, then blew a long, warm kiss into the bear’s mouth. That was the ignition for the fuse, and it burned quickly.

Scott’s nipples leaked iridescent blue liquid, and arcs of lightning travelled across his belly. His cheeks swelled, and his face was consumed by the pit of turgid, fat flesh between his shoulders. His meaty arms slowly became less pronounced, as his body tightened, and groaned, and rounded out. What was once a bouncing, wobbling expanse, was firming into a terrifying perfect sphere filled with enough magical energy to blow away a country. Selph had erected barriers a mile in each direction, he wasn’t going to let his friend do ‘too’ much damage. Just enough.

“Gonna, go, booooooom.” Scott moaned, his voice shaking the countryside.

Selph found a nice spot miles away from ground zero. He watched Scott lose all indication that he had once been a bear, or even a living thing. He was a gigantic balloon of pure hedonistic delight now. His taut, round stomach pierced the clouds and with a flash of azure brilliance, he exploded. An orgasm of such cataclysmic intensity, it stripped the earth bare and left magic addled desolation in its wake.

“Ah, it’s good to take a friend out for some drinks,” Selph laughed. The desolate land belonged to a cruel, and magic-abusing nobleman. He felt more remorse for the grass Scott had incinerated, than he did the pompous worm who owned it.

He wondered how long it would take the bear to reform, and how much bigger he could get the next time his thirst demanded Selph’s ‘assistance.’