Sam’s Night Out

By Shalion

Samantha Halstein snapped the last hook into place on the reversed bra straddling her chest. She turned it about, the smooth fabric sliding easily over soft skin and equally smooth fur of alternating patches of black and white. It took a good deal of time to shift it into place given the enormity of the circumference as well as the relative loss in the range of motion of Samantha’s, or as she preferred, Sam’s arms. Arms at either side of her chest, Sam shifted the sides of the stiff and supportive fabric of the large cups, the front of her chest reaching still a foot further than her hands. She pulled up on the fabric, attempting to reduce the spillage over the tops of the rose pink undergarment, but still, loose pudding-like mammary tissue piled at least two inches over the rim’s cutting edge… at least as far as she could tell; Sam sighed as she continued pulling and pushing at her chest, she was rapidly running out of time to get ready.

Sam was fiercely proud of her body, despite the occasional hindrances. While Holsteins were typically found on the chubby side, especially when exposed to the fast food culture of North America, Sam was an exceptional case. She was 5’6” and had been in her “early” thirties for the better part of a decade now. She also happened to weigh almost 640lbs; 638.6lbs this morning on an empty stomach. Her far more than generous proportions were spread thickly over an hourglass figure that hadn’t seen a true waist since pre-pubescence. Almost two-thirds of her weight was concentrated on her lower quarters; particularly her hips, thighs and rear. The rest resided mostly in her chest, with very little going towards a, still quite massive by normal measures, paunch that rested on her generous udder. The pink, fluid-filled sac was more than half as large as the belly under which it hung for though Sam had never had children, she had been well fed to excess for virtually her entire adult life.

After getting the bra properly adjusted, Sam scooted forward, easing off the edge of her queen sized bed. She put down her manicured and polished hooves onto the carpet and carefully rocked her weight onto them, feeling as her udder and slight paunch sagged downwards with the removal of the support of her lap, and relishing in the sensation. The size of Sam’s thighs forced her legs out into a permanently over-wide and bowlegged stance. Lovingly cultivated fat, with little surface cellulite, dripped below creased, rubbery knees from the lowest parts of the thighs on both the rear and inside surfaces. They bounced lightly as Sam waddled to her dresser, feet of fat gliding between her legs such that her skin and mottled fur didn’t even rub.

Casually pulling open the drawer, Sam ruffled around its multicolored contents and quickly retrieved a pair of pink lace panties. Despite being shockingly obese for pretty much the last decade, Sam could not help a soft chuckle at the sheer size of the underwear; it took both her arms lengths just to hold it fully open. For all its size, it looked like a massive thong; relatively narrow bands of pink silk with a white lace trim connected two broad triangles of material. The smaller one contained the image of a leaping dolphin, the larger one had a stitched tail hole at its inverted base. Sam turned, rather more nimbly than one might expect for her size and waddled back to the bed, seating herself and causing the springs to complain about the weight. The heavy cow bent over as much as her bloated body would allow, which wasn’t much nowadays, and lassoed an ankle in a leg hole of the tent sized britches. In went the other hoof and she pulled them up to her knees, so deformed by deposits of lard, that they appeared as no more than six or seven creases on the dimpled surface of her thighs. Sam stood again and pulled them further up, having to adjust each side as they rose into more congested regions. Thick rolls separated by deep creases formed by chance as the fat collected over the years and with the added help of gravity. She tucked the pink silk under her udder, all the way up to her buried crotch. Then she hiked up the rear, stuffing her stubby black tail with long straight white fur at the tip through the tail hole. The panties covered her butt crack from directly under her tail, where each lobe welled up on either side, down to a rather ambiguous point where the deep crease became the separation between her thighs.

Sam sighed with contentment at the completion of the task, but she glanced at a wall mounted clock and saw that she had a scant 20 minutes before Daisy arrived, she would need to hurry. Legs rolling across the other’s vastness, Sam set her hips in motion of a heavy fluid swagger, lower body shifting left and right over a foot in an energy hungry waddle; her heavy arms swung to keep balance, almost as if she were rowing a boat, but she was well used to the motion. She stepped into the large walk-in closet of her small apartment bedroom.

Dresses and shirts, forming quantities of fabric that an upholster would covet, hung from parallel bars on either side of the closet; Sam’s wide stance brushed against the clothing on either side. On top were boxes containing winter clothing as well as apparel for special occasions. On the floor, where another might have stored shoes, Sam found spare room for a rack holding assorted accessories, including sashes, purses or even umbrellas that go along with the outfits above them as well as yet more boxes stuffed with dormant or too-tight clothing.

Sam luckily knew what she was looking for and was able to breeze through the closet, her chubby and slightly sagging forearms widening the aisle for her passage between dresses and shirts that would each render a homeless family appreciable shelter. She threw a hoof wide as she turned in the aisle, it landed on carpet that had been trodden flat by her heavy, hard feet; between the boxes where she couldn’t walk the carpet was a half inch taller as well as several shades darker. Sam didn’t notice or care, however, as she was busily sliding through layer after layer of clothing looking for that particular dress. “I can’t believe that I put it way back here!” She fumed at herself, “Where the heck is the darn thing? I just got it back from Dan a week ago… Ah, here!” The well fed bovine giggled with glee as she pulled out a pair of hangers. She couldn’t wait for Daisy to see the results of the idea she had been working on for the better part of the year.

Sam waddled back into her bedroom, clutching the apparel she had extracted to her chest (or on top of her chest, depending on your point of view, as her tight bra formed her almost freakishly large bosom into a horizontal shelf under her snout) like a priceless treasure. The idea was actually startlingly simple, even if the actual device took a great deal of time to fabricate from scratch as well as the fact that it took several trials to find a design that was comfortable enough to wear while performing strenuous activity, in Sam’s case, dancing, for several hours. She took her and Dan’s invention (She drew the concept art, he sewed it together) from the hanger and started pulling the loops up her thighs, chasing her invisible panties. The contraption was actually nothing more than an elaborate harness formed of plain, generic elastic bands sewn together in some areas, connected with buckles or loops in others. Two loops went around her thighs, conveniently sliding up and out of sight. The largest loop in the harness was seeded deep into the belly crease under her love handles, following the waistband of her panties, only coming into visibility briefly as it emerged across her generous rear under the tail and dived back down into the opposite crevasse. Once the initial support was in place, small plastic hooks dangled at various points around her vast body on thin nylon bands. One on the outside of each rear cheek, four more at her flanks, and two last ones on top of her thighs. Sam reached under her paunch, above her udder, and pulled up one last strap over her gut above the belly button. In addition to the band, it held up the protruding flesh with three additional straps running back down to the waist. Sam buckled it tight enough to crease the flesh, but not so tight that it was uncomfortable, or would be noticed through the dress.

The dress, though rather innocuous at first glance was specially designed with the harness in mind. It stretched down a little past mid calf, cleverly concealing the bulging sacs of limp fat that hung down the insides and rear of her knees even in motion, and contained small loops of fabric for the plastic hooks, concealed in the natural creases of the skirt. Sam pulled it over her head, the low cut neck emphasizing and drawing the eye towards her impressive cleavage. The fully two foot crease was held together and even elongated slightly by the tight bra Sam wore, pushing together her oversized mammaries which would otherwise slide down either side of the hump of her belly at complement angles. The rich, black fabric of the dress was so expertly cut, with recent measurements, that it traced along the protruding edge of the bra, the leading edge of her dammed up bulk quivering gently above the fabric, and yet tightly in place. Resigning to the fact the she hadn’t a hope of zipping up the back of the dress herself, Sam sat again and started attaching the hooks to the covert loops in the lower part of the dress.

It was a close race. The last hook was in a mere half minute before the doorbell chimed its merry tune. Sam was still in the awkward position she had used to get the plastic hook in and breathing a little hoarse. She rolled off her belly and onto her hooves, waddling quickly to the door which rang again. Sam ruffled down her dress and flipped a reversed ear back down as she moved. Turning the door handle, Sam welcomed in one of her lifelong friends and a fellow fat admirer.

Daisy was a jersey dairy cow, though you wouldn’t know it looking at her from the front. While insubstantial next to Sam, Daisy had had more than her own fair share of thirdsies and fourths at the dinner table. She weighed about 370lbs (Though Sam didn’t know exactly) on her slight 5’2” frame and carried it almost exclusively in her belly. Chubby thighs still seemed too thin when framed by the magnificent paunch. Below C-cup breasts the white furred expanse exuded far in front of Daisy and then dropped steeply. She was widest right above her hips, around the love handles, those heavy rolls falling down and resting perpetually on Daisy’s thighs. Daisy’s arms were slimmer and her tail longer and more elegant in comparison to Sam’s as well. The fact that her close friend was nearly half her weight and yet had a much larger belly brought no end to amusement for the Holstein.

Daisy walked easily in through the door, no waddle hindering her movements, the lowest curve of her gut continuing to sway as she stood before Sam. “Wow, Sam! You look great.” Said the jersey cow as she examined the larger bovine. Sam twirled in place, using a good many more footsteps than a lighter cow might have, but not with any less grace. The skirt fluttered at her calves, fat bunching slightly at her digitigrades ankles. “Oh! I’m going to look like a slob next to you. Why’d you go and wear a dress?” said Daisy with mock distain.

Daisy wore jeans, fairly tight but not so much that it was embarrassing, with her paunch on top. Her yellow shirt had a low collar, but Daisy didn’t really have the “assets” required for a real low cut to be impressive. She wore the long shirt down over her wide sloping gut, tucked under well below the crotch of her jeans. It was fashion common sense for a cow to wear her udder exposed, but despite the fact that Sam knew for a fact that Daisy’s udder was very impressive, it helped after having two kids, there was very little to be seen by the time her gut ended its trampade across her lower body; only about four inches of pink and heavily flattened sac and her teats protruded from under the tyrant of a belly. Sam was grateful for the opening in her dress for her own udder to breathe that Dan had included in his alterations. “Daisy, you don’t look bad. I just wanted to try this out. Take a closer look, can you notice the difference?”

Sam waddled to the end of the living room and back, a very short walk, shifting her hips and letting the dress flow around her. Daisy looked hard for a moment, but enlightenment drew across her face as Sam turned. “That dress, it moves so well, and it hugs your legs. Did Dan finish that thing you were telling me about then?” Sam mooed approval, hands running down either side of her enormous hips along the smooth fabric, upper arms almost perpendicular to her shoulders to encompass her own width. Indeed, Sam had been having trouble wearing dresses without looking overly bloated on her lower body, like an inverted Recess’s cup. The black dress, with the aid of the harness drew back towards her body after encompassing the girth of her thighs, giving a more stylish and streamlined look; it helped even more than the dress was made of a heavy fabric and helped smooth out most of the myriad creases that adorned her body.

Sam added to Daisy’s speculation, grabbing a handful of flab on either side of her belly for emphasis, “It also helps with my swaying gut and sides.” Sam ran fingers over where the straps were located under the dress.

“Hmph…” muttered Daisy, placing a hand on her own prodigious gut, “You don’t happen to have something in my size do you? This thing gets in the way at times while dancing.”

Sam chuckled, “No, unfortunately not. But I think I am the one who needs it more, don’t you think?” She crouched slightly, bending her knees and rose again, the joints creaked audibly at the strain.

“I suppose so, you big fatass!” and both shared a warm laugh before embracing in an even warmer hug. Noticing the unzipped back, the jersey cow obliged Sam by reaching behind and pulling it up to the base of the neck. That completed, Daisy asked, “So, are you ready to go, Sam?”

“Hold on a minute.” Sam said and turned quickly into the kitchen. Originally, the kitchen of the small apartment had been little more than a glorified pantry with a stove and refrigerator; it had been expanded, at great cost to the living room to meet Sam’s particular needs. The kitchen had a large amount of surface on which to work, the ceramic tops of the counters made with overhangs so that Sam’s belly wasn’t as much of a hindrance. Above and below the gray, black spotted surfaces were rich brown chestnut cabinets, the lower ones stock full of various cookware, tools and specialized machines that Sam had been suckered into buying from various TV channels and then promptly forgotten. In the cabinets above, as well as the broom closet that had been converted into a true pantry were simply stuffed with dry and canned foods. An entire cabinet with both its doors thrown wide, Sam knew, would reveal an ungodly accumulation devoted entirely to satisfying Sam’s sweet tooth and occasional lust for instant edibles. Across from the six burner stove was an industrial sized refrigerator, both doors opened wide to their chilly contents. To the left of it was a slightly smaller freezer filled with frozen goods, mostly fried, ready to eat after a time in the oven. On the right, in a corner in front of the pantry door was a wheeled stool Sam used when spending extended periods cooking; she could wheel around the kitchen and spare her overburdened legs.

Sam grabbed several snack sized packs of chips as well as stuffing a couple sandwich bags full of cookies and candy bars. Then she went to the fridge and packed carrots, celery, cheese sticks, Staw-Stix™ (For the herbivore on the go), and other readily edible greens. Everything wrapped in plastic, she filled her large purse to bursting. Daisy was busily tapping a hoof on the flattened carpet of the living room floor as she sat on the recliner (For guests only, as Sam could, at this point only use the three person sofa which was the only other piece of furniture besides the television in the miniaturized room). Sam tilted her head and greeted her friend gaily, “I’m ready!”

Daisy pushed herself onto her hooves, her paunch wobbling, and said, “It’s about time…” She paused and looked hard at Sam’s purse. Sam supposed that Daisy spotted the protruding head of lettuce. “Jeez, Sam, is that thing filled with food?”

“It’s just some snacks.” Said Sam with a dismissing air, “I’m hungry.”

“They have food at the bar, you know.” Daisy said while crossing her arms.

“It’ll mostly be gone by the time we get there, come on, let’s go!”

Daisy huffed another breath but time was indeed short, “Well lets go then, but don’t spill any in the car.”

“I don’t plan to” said Sam with a grin.

The two bovines walk shoulder to shoulder in the dimming light of late afternoon along the curving concrete path to the parking lot. Sam waddled along as best as she could next to Daisy’s relatively effortless walk between the tall buildings and plentiful trees of BirdSong apts, both their hooves clacking on the pavement; sometimes Daisy forgot how difficult it was for Sam to manage a decent velocity, especially when she was in a hurry. People were coming in for the evening and the activity of the complex was slim to none, however, the eyes there were out were fixed more than occasionally on the two heavy cows literally pounding the concrete. Passing a playground, the children giggled amongst themselves when their watery eyes weren’t glued on Sam’s jiggling body. Despite living here for well over six years, the attention, negative or otherwise, almost never faded, and Sam wouldn’t have had it any other way. Sam waved to the children who immediately turned their heads, many cheeks flushing some running away to some new game… or a better hiding place.

When the ladies got to the car, Sam leaned against it, shifting the entire cab in the process and took a few deep breaths to steady herself. Luckily for Sam, Daisy owned an SUV, or rather She and her husband Paul owned an SUV which they used gratuitously with their small children. As well as entertaining multiple small children, however, it was perfect for transporting a heavily fattened cow who had given up driving after her thighs stopped her fitting in a single seat. Sam slid open the rear as Daisy climbed into the driver’s seat. A toy lion almost fell out when she opened the door, and Sam dove for it, not wishing to embarrass herself by being incapable of picking it off the floor (At least without sitting down or spreading her legs so wide that they ripped her dress). She tossed the stuffed figure into the back, doing the same with some of the other assorted clutter. “Sorry about the mess, Sam. Mary had ballet practice and Samuel needed to be picked up early today from Tutor Time.” Muttered Daisy as she watched Sam’s labor from the driver’s seat.

“It’s not a problem.” Sam said while tossing a plastic teaching tablet onto the floor in the back. Once cleared, Sam folded down the second row into a recess in the floor and closed the top over it, having to press her belly and fat hips against the step of the car in the process. Sam let out another puff of air and steeled herself. She lifted a hoof onto the lower step and heaved herself up, bracing arms against the passenger’s side seat. The car tilted violently with her added weight, but Sam managed to get her opposite knee in quickly, feeling the lower thigh fat drag on the rough carpet of the car. Crouching was impossible for Sam so she walked on her knees, an arm against a side of the vehicle and got a mammoth cheek onto the very rearmost seat. Using that as leverage, Sam threw herself back in one broad, and fairly slow motion. She filled most of the three person seat, her legs spread wide and straining the fabric of the black dress. The thought of using a seat belt did not even enter Sam’s mind. She leaned forward and pushed the rear of the door with such force that it closed at the other end. Leaning back, Sam eagerly adjusted her bulk on the seat, and kicking away children’s toys with her hooves.

“I wish your weren’t so hard on my poor car, Sam.” said Daisy, already starting the engine, “Ready?”

Sam reached into her purse and grabbed the head of lettuce. Unwrapping it, she said, “I’m ready.”

Sam did not consider herself to be a compulsive eater. “Compulsive eaters,” she would say, “eat because they don’t have a choice. I eat because I love food, and I love my body.” And so she ate, often, regularly and heavily. That day, she had had breakfast, lunch, two snacks between them as well as another snack after lunch. Sam considered what she had stuffed into her purse to be a “large snack” more based on the composition of the food than the quantity; chips and cookies did not fill one at all. What most people considered funny was how Sam stood by the fact that she had stopped “actively” gaining. What was even funnier was the fact that she had in fact managed to grind her previously soaring weigh gain almost entirely. Four years ago, she had been putting on 58lbs or so a year for almost five years. Then she, and her doctor, decided that it was time to stop. Dieting, and subsequent breaking of said diet brought that year’s gain to an unimpressive 42lbs. After that, Sam decided to do things her way. She didn’t attempt to control the ravenous hunger she had grown within herself from years of binging, she merely changed the input… with regular periods in which to indulge her greed for food. She gained 15lbs that year, and then 8 the next and then 2 the year previous to this one. Sam didn’t mind that she wasn’t losing weight, she would have made the effort to cram more pasta into her diet if that was the case.

And so Sam chowed all the way to the club. The pleasure of eating was a simple one, but it was one that the overfed heifer was intimately familiar with. By the time Daisy’s SUV pulled into the parking lot on the other side of the street, the lot was full already at the bar, there were only a few plastic wrapped dregs left at the bottom of Sam’s purse as well as a meaty fistful of empty wrapping. Sam belched lightly as Daisy turned off the ignition and the jersey cow laughed. Daisy opened the door for Sam and her morbidly obese friend planted her rear on the floor of the cab, scooting forward until her hooves could hit the pavement. The tan and white lady cow extended an arm and Sam gratefully took it, using her somewhat inferior bulk to lever herself out of the car and into the chill night air. “Thanks, Dais’” said Sam, taking hold of the shorter cow’s shoulder.

“Not a problem.” Daisy responded before eagerly walking towards the glowing neon sign, “Let’s have some fun!”

Misty’s was a small local run night club, some would say disco since the general style of the interior hadn’t changed much since the 70’s even if the songs had (mostly). Patrick, a raccoon who for some unknown or long forgotten reason preferred to be called “Marv,” ran the club with his wife Misty who served as a waitress. Sam had known both of them for years and were very good acquaintances, if not true friends. More important than who ran the club, however, were the clientele who most often visited it. Due in no small part to the FA society in which Sam and Daisy were very active members, Misty’s had become an unofficial hotspot for fat furs and the furs who loved them to gather. It was an unspoken preference, but Misty’s was pretty much the only social gathering where people like Sam and Daisy were guaranteed to get a positive reaction.

Despite the filled parking lot, Misty’s was never busy enough to warrant a bouncer, so Sam and Daisy walked to the door and pulled it open, releasing booming music and the odors of sweat and alcohol and cheap fried food. Daisy went in first and Sam followed behind, painfully aware that, unlike in her apartment, this door was not widened. Sam had to shuffle in sideways, her udder and thighs pressing against the door frame even as her rear did likewise on the other side. This, naturally led to attention being drawn from the club’s patrons. There were the same expressions of shock and vague disgust that Sam found walking the street, but there were also the expressions of delight, interest, and barely disguised lust that the heavy Holstein was interested in tonight. Daisy took a seat at the bar, Sam took two next to her, tail swishing as Marv came up to greet them.

“Ladies night out, again I see. Daisy, Sam?” The middle aged raccoon smiled.

“Oh, yes Marv!” said Daisy with a titter, “And it couldn’t have come sooner!”

Marv chuckled, “Well I can’t have my two best patrons going thirsty. What’ll you two have, or have you already found some sap who’ll buy you drinks already?”

“Oh Marv.” Said Sam, swishing a paw at him, “We pay for at least… half our drinks.”

“Get me an apple martini” ordered Daisy.

“And I’ll have a banana daiquiri, you know how I like them.” Said Sam with a wink.

“Right away ladies.” The bartender said before walking off to spray soda into a parrot’s empty glass.

Sam reached into her purse and drew out a package of chips while she waited for her drink. Daisy elbowed the larger female, “You pig!” she hissed in her ear, “Don’t you ever stop eating?”

“Hmph! It’s better than these stale peanuts.” Said Sam as she stuck another baked potato chip into her mouth and crunched it tenderly. Sam could admit that she was addicted to food… within the proper contexts. She said she was addicted to food like some people were addicted to fresh air, or trees. In reality, Sam had virtually no sense of when she was full; she could definitely tell when she was hungry but usually only stopped when the food within reach had disappeared. She munched chips more as something to do with her mouth to stave boredom than an actual need, or even want of food. And when the alcohol arrived, she drank, and drank.

About three daiquiris and two margaritas later (four appletini’s and a pint for Daisy), a song started up that Sam just had to join, and her with inhibitions just starting to be worked on (Dasiy was fully tipsy) Sam heaved her heavy seat off the stools and waddled out onto the hardwood of the dance floor. It took Daisy a moment to realize where her drinking partner had gone, but then she followed suit onto the center floor.

Sam’s short, fat thickened tail swished back and forth, sweeping the upper half of her rear to the beat of “Rock the Boat.” The crowd unconsciously allotted room for Sam’s swaying bulk under the disco lights. Sam tapped her hooves on the floor, starting to swing her primary assets, her hips. She planted her hands on to her wide load and danced. Sam had always loved dancing, had taken classes in it and practiced every chance she got and she was not about to let a trifle like weighing well over 600lbs get in the way of her passion. Of course, Sam was smart enough to realize that she had to adapt. She hadn’t the stamina or speed when she had been 10 years, and 400lbs, lighter; but no one said adapting couldn’t look good. Sam made the best out of her overburdened and underused muscles by concentrating her movements on her upper body and torso, avoiding fancy footwork. She twisted and shook, bounced and jiggled, moving very little from her original position. In fact she tried to move her hooves as little as possible (they made overly loud clomping sounds on the wood anyways). By the end of the song, Sam was puffing, her pits and many crevasses moist but she felt good, her heart was pumping in practically her only form of exercise. Something more modern came on and Sam planted her hooves, buckling her knees and letting her hands flow up and down her body. Finally Daisy managed to dance her way over and the two heifers bumped butts, causing them both to jiggle and quake until many hungry, lust heavy stares were launched at the duo.

Sam bent low with her knees and as she rose she felt an unpleasant twinge in her left knee, but she ignored it in the heat of her exhilaration. If the light had been better or her dress any lighter the heavy sweat stains from vast stretches of skin would have been prominent. Sam was growing visibly less vigorous by the end of her second song, certainly gone were the evenings when she had spent entire nights on her feet, stopping only to drink and use the ladies room; the alcohol in her system was much appreciated at this point to numb the complaints of her body. Another steady R&B song that Sam thoroughly enjoyed came on and Sam decided she could last one more, the odd pain in her knee had almost faded… almost. Sam swayed, dancing with her hands and hips, her back to Daisy as a shadow emerged from the press of bodies around.

The man, certainly it was a man for his broad shoulders and narrow hips, literally looked like a shadow in the dim light; he was identified as an absence in the space around him. He came closer, moving his paws rapidly and occasionally twirling. A beam of light fell on him briefly and Sam saw that the figure was a tall black furred wolf. He had a certain wildness about his features, even more so than the few wolves who Sam knew from her home town. His canines were so long (and quite obviously not dulled as was the trend among domestic canines) that they spent more time outside his lips than within them and he wore no shirt. His coat was glossy, but it seemed to absorb more light that it gave off. Sam saw that he had a slim build, tight pectorals and ropey muscles on his arms, this man was built to be light and speedy rather than powerful. His tail wagged wildly behind him, heavily fluffed almost like a fox’s and his hackles were raised.

The man danced closer and closer and Sam could see the whites of his piercing arctic blue eyes, and she liked what she saw. Sam took a couple steps away from Daisy, and then a couple more, that was all it took to get the black wolf dancing before her. Really the man was a direct antipothesis of Sam. Her movements were slow, heavy, and delicate (at least with respect to her arms and hands). He moved almost like he were practicing some bizarre martial art, with lots of spinning, jumping and foot work; the wolf bounced on his clawed toes as if there were strings attached to his back. The wolf brushed against her several times, seemingly testing the waters and Sam let him. She inhaled his masculine scent, distinguishable even above the general stink of sweat in the press of bodies, she liked its fullness and rough texture.

With the song more than half over, the black wolf suddenly slowed in his movements, imitating Sam’s style. He pressed in closer, only a few inches now away from her paunch over which draped her sweat soaked black dress. “May I?” he asked. Sam nodded and the wolf extended an arm longer than she had noticed. The rough pads of his palms caught on the fabric as he placed it on her side. He moved a little to her left, placing the other hand on the front of her belly, well above the udder and on the opposite side of her belly button, unable to encompass even half of her girth. He held the pose for a moment, rubbing his palms into her yielding fat before the lyrics picked up again. The wolf artfully spun, pressing his lean back against Sam as he rotated behind her; she felt a small thrill up her spine as she felt his vertebrae through his fur on her blubbery flank. She felt hands on the outsides of her thighs, more towards the rear due to its expansiveness and Sam bent down on her knees. She wiggled a bit and rose, feeling the odd stabbing pain in her left knee again, stronger this time. The palms were removed and Sam felt the wolf’s bushy tail reach up under her own stubby one even as she instinctively reached down to rub her knee. Sam immediately straightened and her tail came out of the brief contact, but not without first trailing down the majority of the wolf’s tail, or at least that’s how it felt. Between the exertion and the pain in her knee, Sam was panting, her heart thundering in her ears, but somehow she made it through the last few lines of the song. The wolf came around again hugged her tightly around the middle, pulling her close so that her massive breasts pressed quite heavily above the wolf’s navel.

“That was marvelous!” The wolf must have taken in Sam’s state of exhaustion because he then said, “You look a little puckered, may I buy you a drink?”

Sam hadn’t declined a drink in her life (save a certain incident with a sleazy bar rat that she’d rather forget about) and wasn’t about to turn down an offer from the very attractive wolf. Sam started waddling beside the black canine, her knee had become warm and tingly when the pain faded, and stole a glance at Daisy dancing with a bull of her own breed. Daisy understood Sam’s limitations and the heavier cow knew she wouldn’t mind being abandoned for a time. Sam took two seats again, thoroughly squashing the padding flat, and the wolf sat on her right. Now in the light, the wolf shook his head once and smoothed the wild mane of his hackles. Sam promptly dug the dress out of her belly creases in response. The wolf turned his snout, in this light, his eyes almost looked violet. “What can I get you?” he asked.

Sam dug her udder out from between her thighs with as much elegance as she could muster using her left hand while saying between huffing breaths, “Some… water first… and a margarita… would be… nice.” Sam swallowed and the wolf grinned, his ears perking forward a little.

After the drinks were ordered, and Sam had gulped two glasses of mineral tasting tap water, she was still sweating, the wolf asked, “May I ask who it is I have the pleasure of buying drinks for?”

“Samantha, but you can call me Sam, everyone does.” Sam smiled and batted her eye a little, breathing was still heavy and her heart thudded like she was jogging despite being seated for well over three minutes now.

The wolf’s snout tipped a little lower and his eyes examined Sam’s body briefly. “Sam…” he muttered to himself. “My name is Sven, and Worgson is my surname.”

“You don’t look like you’re from around here, Sven. Are you on holiday?”

The wolf grinned, exposing several more of his incisors, “I wish… I’m moving here from Bulgaria and the rest of my family…” The wolf’s eyes looked distant for a moment, almost pained and Sam, even in her increasingly inebriated state made a note not to bring up family later. “I’m living in a hotel until the house is ready. I thought I’d come and experience some of what this town has to offer.” A corner of his muzzle turned up as he came back from his own thoughts.

“Well I can tell you that we have a lot to offer.” Sam giggled and grabbed hold of either side of her belly, shaking it back and forth for the wolf’s amusement. Her exposed udder jiggled wildly on top of her thighs causing Sven’s breath to quicken momentarily.

Marv happened upon the couple, Sam’s body not quite still from her antics, and wore a wicked grin as he placed the drinks on the table. Sam chugged another glass of ice water in one long gulp, and proceeded to drain her frozen drink; Sam’s surface area naturally led to a greater loss of fluids. Sven drank deeply of his pint, paying more attention to Sam and her greed than his drink. Sam noticed the wolf’s glance and made a show of drinking the last three quarters of her margarita. She sucked and sucked on the straw, not even bothering with the salt, breathing through her wide nostrils, and turning her chest just so, such that Sven got a good look at her heaving breasts. The frozen drink was liquid relief for her over heated body, and instant pleasure as well as she inhaled it into herself. All too soon the straw was slurping at the bottom of the glass and Sam brought her neck up immediately, clutching at her forehead.

“Oh! Brainfreeze!” she exclaimed, the front of her cranium stinging with icy sharpness.

Sven chortled, holding a paw to his breast. “My, my you seem to have worked up a thirst dancing. I would be happy to get you another if you were still needing…”

Sam leaned back and turned fully towards Sven, her low cut dress showing the awesome cleavage stretching from just a few inches below her third chin and down into new areas that should not even exist on a properly conditioned heifer. She felt like there was an enormous ice cube right below her rib cage and was properly sated… however. “Oh, I’m a bit thirsty still, but I think I’d like something to warm me…” She took a heavy look up and down the wolf’s masculine and nude upper torso, “How about we share some shots of tequila, but first you need to finish your pint.” Sam tittered a laugh, “You already have me at a disadvantage. I’ve been drinking for a couple hours already.” Sam didn’t think it necessary to mention that she could drink just about everyone she knew under the table if she wanted.

Sam felt contentment seep into her consciousness as the alcohol slowly created a layer of fuzz around her mind. Shots came and went with vicious ferocity until Marv just left the bottle on the table, and Sam made sure that Sven had a shot for every one she drank; she had had an unpleasant experience being drunk at another’s expense and managed at least this as she slowly let her inhibitions go. Sam chatted and talked with Sven who proved to be a marvelously articulate drunk in time. She had some problems remembering exactly what they were talking about five minutes later, but she was sure that it was a good conversation. And the more time Sam spent with Sven the more convinced she was that he was a good wolf too, for all the ferocious caste of his features.

The wolf’s ears drooped and often waggled in different directions and his tongue had a tendency to escape his mouth as his talked, in the light it looked bright red as if coated in blood, but at the moment, Sam found it more adoring than frightening. Between his more animated ears and tail, Sam could literally see Sven’s emotions which he seemed as incapable of hiding as much as he could stop breathing. As the evening progressed, Sam saw more and more of his enlarged and sharp teeth as his jaw steadily dropped, blowing air across that wide wavering tongue.

Sam’s own tail waggled as it lay on her overly large buttocks, her ears sometimes flicking at imaginary flies. Her thick neck bulged as another shot slid down its inside. The fatty underlining of her neck devoured the rear half of her long jaw, bunching at the base of the neck in a prominent third chin that remained however which way she turned her head. The stools with their inadequate padding and surface area were starting to hurt Sam’s butt despite the numbing effects of the drinks she kept pouring down her gullet. Evidently at some point, she had started eating the remains in her purse because when she reached in to fetch her wallet to show Sven some pictures, it was virtually empty; Sam didn’t even remember opening a package. An indeterminate time later, Sam was finally feeling the tight pressure under her diaphragm that she had learned to recognize as fullness ever since the true sensation had deadened itself to her as she polished off the last bit of fried zucchini from a red plastic basket; two identical ones sat next to it as well as three empty containers of ranch dressing.

A combination of her aching ass, inebriation and lack of interest in anymore drinks or food led Sam to twist in her seat, throwing an arm around the black furred wolf and dropping onto her hooves. Despite his being taller than her by more than six inches, he came out of his seat easily, powerless to halt Sam’s irresistible inertia. “Come on, Let’sh dance shome more, Sh…. Shv… S’Zhven” Sam did not hear whether or not Sven agreed, but the wolf certainly pressed his lean body into the overweight bovine’s curves as she led the way onto the dance floor yet again, her waddle even heavier to the point of swaying left and right.

Sam almost tripped while stepping down the single step onto the floor. With surprising speed and strength, Sven managed to steady her despite being outweighed probably a good three times his weight. “Oh, thanksh.” Said Sam as she hugged him tight, right there before the step into the floor, and rubbed her hand over his head, smoothing back his ears, “You’re shuch a sweetie!”

“Huh! You’re welcome” huffed Sven as Sam pressed him into her. He took full advantage to nuzzle his head on Sam’s ample chest while she stroked his ears. Sam felt his tongue tickle her as the wolf licked his lips and she let go just as brief silence between songs began to be filled with opening music of a rock piece back from the 80’s. She grabbed a paw and dragged the wolf onto the floor, he followed as light as a feather, not even staggering a little.

Sam huffed and puffed as she swayed to this new song. She hadn’t the coordination for even the semblance of footwork she had managed earlier, so she kept stationary, swishing her tail, shaking her hips and chest, throwing her arms about (her upper arm fat slapping against her body and sometimes even managing to keep the beat). Her blubber bouncing around more than it had any right to, Sam found that Sven was much more physical now in his dancing, and also found that she enjoyed the contact. The wolf rubbed his body against Sam from virtually every direction, moving swift and surefooted around her; if Sam hadn’t been listening to him talk, she would not have guessed him to be drunk in the slightest. He moved his hands across her broad body sensually, using the smooth fur on the backs of his hands on the back slide. Sometimes he grabbed her heavy rolls under her breasts on either side of her body, and sometimes he would grind against thighs thicker than his chest. More often, he would come from behind and rest his chin on top of her head, simply swaying with her; Sam loved it all. By the end of the second song, Sam’s left knee was being stabbed at least three times every two minutes. Her breath caught in her throat and she walked off to the side to sit on a three person bench. With her sitting on the right, there was just enough room for Sven and his lean frame to squeeze in on the left.

Sam panted and wiped fresh sweat off her brow, “Boy… I am…. Out of shape!” she said to no one in particular. Her knee continued to twinge erratically.

Sven reached up over her protruding flank and gave the side of her snout a lick in his species’ style of affection, “You know I phind that extremely sexy…”

Sam cuffed the poor wolf on his back, the weight of her arm nearly knocking the wind out of him, not from muscle mass but from the force of gravity. “You tease!” Sam giggled lightly but had to resume her heavy breathing almost immediately. She and the wolf enjoyed a long moment together as the heavyset cow recovered from her six minute bout of light activity. Sam almost thought she could almost smell the alcohol on her sweat… then she felt Sven grasp her shoulder lightly and then a pressure on her upper thigh. When she looked to her left, she saw the wolf seated on the shelf of her thigh, tail wagging, his right thigh pressed almost under her protruding gut as he stabilized himself with the arm on her shoulder. Despite the over familiarity, Sam was too drunk and too oxygen deprived at the moment to care. She held him close, her upper arm fat draping provocatively out of her wide sleeve and down the canine’s back. She kept her hand on the wolf’s honest-to-goodness waist and Sven’s paw shifted down her back to rest on the slight dip in the fat padding her back above her tail; Sam kept her other hand resting on her tremendous belly, still heaving with the force of her diaphragm.

Sven was apparently luxuriating in the intense heat radiating away from her over insulated body, and Sam continued to hold the pose… at least until she stopped feeling the sweat dripping into her eyes. With a laugh, Sam unceremoniously gave Sven a shove, knocking him off her thigh and sprawling into the slim space beside her. “Fun-time’s over lover-wolf.”

Sven laughed as well, after recovering himself, “Well… I very much enjoyed it, thanksh.”

Sam leaned forward, bringing her immense weight onto her hooves slowly as another song ended. “Ugh…” she started as the stabbing pain came back in her left knee as she put her weight on it. She wanted to rub it, but her precarious balance warned against it, she was swaying slightly even as she stood still; despite taking longer to get a buzz, her body absorbed alcohol like a sponge and despite not drinking, Sam felt herself getting steadily more wasted. “Oh I wash wantin’ to dansh shome more, but, URP!… ‘scuse me. But I thfffink I’m done.”

Sven stood as close as Sam’s wide body would allow and cautiously rubbed her back, “That’s fine, A girl’s gotta know when to shtop and all.”

“Will ya’ help meh find my friend Daishy? Hopefully she’sh not too drrrunck to drrrive my fatass home.” Said Sam stumbling over her “R’s” as well as her own hooves.

Sam’s head was getting really foggy at this point. Her great belly churned and gurgled audibly as the food and drink she’d been ingesting all evening starting dropping out of her quadrented stomach into her lower intestines. She remembered little of her stumbling search through the bar on precarious hooves except that Sven was always there to ram a sharp bladed shoulder into her side to keep her from falling.

Eventually the two friends who had only met each other a few hours ago found the jersey cow in a circle of girls chatting with each other, some Sam recognized through the haze of liquor, others were strangers. Before Sam even knew what was happening, Sven was hugging her outside by the SUV; Sam guessed that Daisy was sober enough to drive, but didn’t really look into the matter. Sam looked up into Sven’s shockingly blue eyes, lit by the bright florescence of the street lamps. She felt his hands on either side of her protruding chest as he lowered his snout and bent his head a little. Sam raised her neck up, still not flattening the heavy adipose beneath it, and kissed him passionately a moment before he reached her. Practically pulling the thin wolf into her cleavage, Sam felt something give in her over tight bra. It came loose and her heavy breasts slid down either side of her belly slightly at their furthest, and most bulbous, points. Under her dress, there was made more room for the handsome wolf and he was able to get closer between her heavy breasts than ever before possible. Sam didn’t know if it was the wolf or the alcohol, but having him there felt so good. Her lust rose and she felt herself moisten a little as she pulled on the wolf’s strong back. His definition utterly opposed her blubbery, shapeless body. She was twice as wide as the wolf and perhaps five times as thick. He was half a foot taller than her and could probably rip her to shreds without even trying. Sam felt at that moment that they could make a good couple.

When they finally parted Sam felt Sven slid his rough palm pads across the exposed part of her chest on her low cut dress. “I’ve had a wonderful evening. I hope we can shee each other again.”

Sam crawled on her belly on the floor of the car, feeling her breasts and loosened bra dragging on the carpeting as well. She didn’t bother with the seat, flinging her fat body on the floor of the SUV, stomach first. Sam didn’t remember what she said, if anything, but one thing stuck in her mind. The wolf said, “Call me!” as the door slammed shut and with a brief flash of insight, she realized that she hadn’t gotten the wolf’s phone number. She could have cried if the car vibrating into life hadn’t made her so nauseous. It was all she could do to contain her gorge as the car pulled away under the flashing lights of passing street lamps.

Sam felt a hand groping her thigh and swatted at it, groaning. “Sam! Sam, you’re home. Move that truck load you call an ass!” Sam moaned again, struggling desperately to retain her hard won Calories. Daisy’s soft, wide body was such a contrast to Sven that it grieved her still more as the short jersey cow helped Sam home. Sam leaned heavily on Daisy the whole time and though the smaller cow struggled herself under the burden, she didn’t complain. Sam handed Daisy her keys and fatter bovine forced her way through, stumbling through the house at “breakneck” speed, turning the corner into the bathroom. Sam wasn’t feeling nauseous anymore (she had a very strong constitution), but she needed to pee like there was no tomorrow. The familiar surroundings of her well lived-in and obesity attenuated apartment set Sam’s drugged mind at ease. Daisy stayed just long enough to see that Sam was able to take care of herself before leaving for her own overdue family.

Sam sat on the bed and yanked the long dress carefully off her body. It was stiff with sweat and clingy, but she managed after she remembered to unlatch the hooks protruding from her deep crevasses. The bra came along with it, but Sam didn’t bother to see what the malfunction was, she just threw the dress, with the bra still inside, onto the floor. Sam’s buzz was fading fast, to be replaced by a deep seated exhaustion in every fiber of her being. She rolled over onto her back, her breast fat flowing backwards into the sides of her chest, the fattest, furthest part of them folding back on the rest of her bosom a little so that she could see her own nipples; the left was on a black patch of fur and was colored black, the other on a white patch colored pink, both small, decorative, never used and never would be used unless Sam decided to drop half her weight. She felt bloated, sick to her stomachs as if having binged on fast food despite the fiber from the vegetables earlier. Her limbs were heavy, weary, she could hardly lift them; Sam felt fatter than she had felt in a long time, and it was a good feeling. Sam managed to unlatch the tightest portions of the harness she still wore, and, amazingly, to roll over onto her gut. This was quite a feat as Sam filled the queen bed as a normal fur might fill a single. The morbidly obese pig of a cow had very bad sleep apnea when sleeping on her back and she had trained herself not to sleep in that position. Sam had to press her hands deep into the mattress for her weight, her breasts clambering under her snout and forcing her head up, and her paunch dragging on the comforter; if Sam had been built like Daisy she probably couldn’t have managed the feat.

Sam let her body down, not bothering with blankets, she still felt heat radiating away from her over taxed body. Her belly and hips spread out as well as her chest. Sam felt herself fading from the world of light and reality. She pulled at her right breast weakly, making a pillow out of it. Her mind buzzed with the half remembered events of that night, but most potently, the dire face with the gentle expression of the black wolf remained with Sam as she drifted down into that pitch dark fur…