Cellar Swelling
By: Hdalby33
Featuring: Callum and Sugarboy

Callum groaned heavily as he straightened up in his bed. His belly rolled softly over his thighs with the movement, testifying the extensive damage last night’s feast had wrought on his figure. Looking around blearily, the robust reptile untangled the covers from his clawed feet and scritched a love handle absentmindedly. Clad in only a pair of boxers that stretched over the drake’s ripe rear, any unnoticed onlookers would be treated to a slow moving slab of dragon going through his morning rounds. Unfortunately, the drake was rudely interrupted by an imperious whinny from the other end of the farmhouse.

Like something out of a horror movie, the whinny cut the air and pierced the drake’s thickened hide. Callum promptly tripped over his attempt to don a pair of pants and face-planted into the floor with a soft slosh. I swear that horse better be dying, he fumed. Staggering to his feet, the blue and grey drake got dressed and hurriedly padded down the hall to a wide, rustic kitchen.

A heavily-built feral horse stood near the stove, his ginger-ale colored belly expanding and contracting rapidly with dramatic breaths. “Merf…whas goin’ on?” Callum murmured.

Sugarboy looked to the drake for a split second, before looking back to the horrific sight of an…omelet splattered all over the wooden floor. “Awww, c’mon Sugar,” the drake yawned, padding over and leaning on his companion’s supple flank, “What’d I tell ya about trying to cook feral?”

Being a quadrupedal stallion, the rust-maned equine could only employ his powerful muzzle for common chores. Despite the handicap, Sugarboy still insisted on performing most menial tasks on his own. Being considerably heftier than the average horse didn’t help, with the dappled horse’s barrel bumping into every surface level with it.

“Excuse me for being hungry,” the incredulous horse protested, nosing the remains of the omelet mournfully.

Callum slapped his friend’s wide withers, “Go sit down, drama-horse. I’ll fix us both sumthin’.” He still wasn’t fully recovered.

Sniffing disdainfully, Sugarboy clopped over to a sturdy bench bowed in a low swoop to accommodate his ample frame. Easing down onto the smooth wood, the stallion sighed as his heavy middle pooled gently around the supportive bench and ignored the ensuing creak.

“So,” Callum cracked a couple dozen eggs onto a frying pan the size of a pizza tray. “Any reason you’re up at the crack of dawn, holding a wake for breakfast food?”

Sugarboy snorted, shifting his weight slightly, “I just wanted to get a proper start for a beautiful day.” Callum turned from the crackling eggs and smirked lopsidedly to the equine. “What?! I did!” he protested further, “I just…wanted to enjoy a hearty breakfast along with it.”

“I see,” the heavyset drake snickered, whisking the omelet expertly and adding a flurry of veggies, meats and spices to it. “And it was an added bonus that I happened to be unconscious?”

Sugarboy faltered, “Well…I mean,” he nodded to the dragon’s sapphire belly which bulged through an ill-fitting flannel shirt, “I was gonna share with you if you woke up.”

“How considerate,” Callum quipped, flipping the omelet over, “And now I’m cooking for two.” He slipped the omelet onto a wooden platter and sliced it in half. With paramount care, the drake guided the heavy breakfast pastry onto the oaken dining table.

Savory steam wafted up from a bright-yellow expanse embedded with pepper, sausage, onions, and mushrooms. A crackle of salt and cheese topped it in dreamy fashion. Callum grinned amiably to Sugarboy, who had now shed any semblance of guilt for the tantalizing creation. Despite their heckling, both appreciated a good breakfast.

With no further qualms but to sate their growling stomachs, the pair dug in with a vengeance. Nickering softly, Sugarboy felt the rich warmth of the sultry food fill his considerably middle, eliciting contented gurgles as his gut gently pushed against his thighs and shoulders. Likewise, Callum’s shirt uttered faint creaks as his gut rolled warmly over his waistband and stretched the well-worn article to its seams. It was a familiar and hearty tradition they both enjoyed.

Sitting back contentedly, the pair then indulged in the morning light heating up the layers of fat straining gently under their hides. Callum rose slowly and dumped the platter in the sink, before turning to his friend. “So…any plans for today?”

Sugarboy hiccupped softly, sending a tremor through his belly. The bench groaned quietly. Looking out over the rolling acres of farmland beyond the window, he sighed sheepishly, “Probably gonna find an apple tree to pass out under.”

“Figured as much,” the drake pulled his shirt down from where it rode up, “I just have to take inventory. Wanna tag along for that?”

The stallion hemmed and hawed for a moment, before rolling sluggishly off the bench to come to a jiggling stance. His gut sagged level with his knees, only emphasizing the robust features of a draft horse background. “I suppooosssse...what’re you taking inventory of?”

“The ale cellar.”

“Oh?” Sugarboy cocked a red caterpillar of an eyebrow, “That might be worth checking out.”

Callum smirked, already moving toward the door. “We might have to sample a couple. Ensure they haven’t gone bad.” He knew the horse was hooked from the words ‘ale cellar.’ Now the drake was teasing his friends’ shared fondness for the filling concoction.

There was a bounce and a wobble in the stallion’s gait, “Quality control. Most important duty on the farm, right?”

“Right!” the drake echoed as they slowly made their way to the cellar.

The ale cellar was embedded in the earth at the base of the barn, half a mile west of the farmhouse. Thanks to their heavy breakfast, the going was slow. Sugarboy’s barrel swayed to and fro, his hindquarters and rear jiggling softly around his russet tail. Callum could’ve sworn his shirt was going at any moment, the buttons dimpling the soft flesh between his scutes with alarming pressure. By some minor miracle, the pair made it to the cellar without incident.

With a grunt, Callum heaved the thick wooden doors to the sides. A set of stairs led down into a large storeroom, lit by the light trickling through the floorboards of the barn above. Despite the natural illumination, Callum flicked on a set of electric lights. Sugarboy headed down cautiously, trying to resist the sudden surge of his bulk as it sluggishly pushed against his chest with the incline.

Once in, Callum took a deep breath and sighed. A fragrance of pine, distilled ales, and sawdust coating the floor filled his snout. The cellar was considerably cooler, adding a wonderful crispness to the air.

Sugarboy clopped around curiously, nosing a couple barrels marked ‘Belgian Dubbel,’ a particularly malty concoction originating from monasteries not unlike the cellar they were in. Callum padded over to a large vat containing a deep caramel liquid labeled as ‘Barleywine.’ He and Sugarboy had their respective favorites, but both agreed the impact on their minds and waists was equally wonderful.

The stallion grinned over to the drake, nosing the lid of the Belgian mix hopefully, “Quality control right? Means numerous taste tests?”

Callum returned the grin, “Perhaps a glass or two. One has to be sure.”

An unspoken shorthand formed under their words, with both already envisioning their day ahead. Digging his claws into the plug of two larger caskets, Callum expertly uncorked them and placed one in reach of his equine companion. Together they began to drink in deep drafts, effectively solidifying their plans for the remainder of the day. Hope we’ll be able to roll out of here before nighttime, Callum hummed as he drank. It wasn’t likely.

Ever so slowly, the drake tilted his head back and poured a deep draft of the rich liquid into his maw. It tasted bitter, but induced a wonderful bubbly sensation thanks to the carbonation. Plopping on his hefty rear, Callum continued to drink while his equine friend adjusted their own heft accordingly.

The bubbles in the ale matched the Sugarboy’s dappled coat, which rippled softly over the layer of fat encasing his ribs. Eventually the horse got the barrel propped over his head, uncorking it and opening a constant spout of fermented alcohol into his muzzle. Unlike Callum, the equine had no means of stopping the flow, meaning he was committed.

Slowly the horse’s throat emptied the tide of rich ale in succulent drafts while Callum paced his own consumption. The drake grinned and rubbed his friend’s middle as it began to tremble and swell softly from the influx. He could feel his claws jiggle over the tan surface like a raft on the ocean. That was one of Callum’s favorite aspects of beer binging; the sloshing and sloughing weight affecting his belly.

“Mmrrf…good stuff,” Sugarboy burped, a line of white foam trailing his rust goatee. Callum rolled his eyes and jiggled the horse’s swollen barrel, watching it bunch sluggishly against their legs.

“You dun say,” he hiccupped, downing the remaining gallon or so of ale in his own barrel. The threads on the drake’s shirt groaned heavily, buttons quivering as they fought against the silver and blue blubber straining their hold.

Rolling to his feet slowly, the drake’s belly matched the movement as he attained two more barrels. This time Callum had the horse remain lying on one bulging side, figuring it’d be easier to get the barrels himself.

“Here yah go Sugar,” Callum leaned against his own barrel while offering the nozzle of another to the horse, “I ‘eard there’s grain in this, which’is healthy. So the fact that yer wider means yer’a fatass.”

Sugarboy glared at the tipsy drake, who had a slightly lower tolerance simply due their difference in sizes. “Look who’s talking, y’smug scaly blubberball.” He couldn’t keep the chuckle or the hiccup out of his voice, which ruined the effect, but his point was still proven as the sloshing drake was promptly pulled forward by his gut.

Callum stumbled forward and face-planted directly into the horse’s belly, getting a startled whinny from the bloated equine. “Mrrrmmmm, isss soft,” the drake giggled, patting his friend’s gut.

The horse’s glare only grew harder as the two squashed against one another. After a tense moment, Sugarboy sighed and nosed the next barrel, “Ah think we need ‘bit more.” Callum nodded in complete agreement.

This time, the heavy reptile rested against the horse’s gut as they drank. He reveled in the mounting tightness of his companion’s gut, while the drake’s own swelled outward and into his lap. Together the pair grew increasingly inebriated, their speech slurring incoherently and guts acquiring cumbersome deposits of liquid. By the time they polished off their third round, Callum was reclining into a water balloon of a horse gut that extended nearly to Sugarboy’s hooves.

Callum hiccupped and murred, before taking the final sip and sending the buttons of his shirt flying away in a flurry of plastic. Purring in relief, the dragon’s swollen gut surged over his knees and came to a rest against the shaved-wood peppering the floor.

Turning around, the drake patted his friend’s wall of a middle, getting a resounding groan and wobble for his effort. “Ah think walkin’ outta’ere’s defffinitely no go,” Callum slurred.

Sugarboy grunted in agreement, eyeing his arrestingly distended girth. “Gotta agree with ya there.”

“So,” the drake winced as his scutes twinged under duress, “Wanna keep goin’?”

“Mmmmm,” Sugarboy lifted his head, generating an accordion of rolls along his neck, “That depends. Think ya can keep up?”

A grin split Callum’s face. He heaved himself up with another jiggle, “Hell yep.”

With that, the sloshing drake stumbled over to the barrels and acquired two more to continue their filling session.

Rolling them over, he paused to pat Sugarboy’s bulging flank, “We’re gon need a couple a tractors when this is done.”

The horse rolled his eyes, grinning to the dragon over the curve of his gut. “At least you can still waddle a’bit.”

Callum shook his head, getting the barrels into place and rubbing the four-foot sag in place of his gut. “Not before long,” he giggled.

Plopping back up against his companion’s cushy gut, the rotund reptile murred softly, “You do make a damn fine couch though.”

Sugarboy smirked and nosed the dragon’s rolled sides, “S’pose same goes fer you as a cushion.”

“Cheers.” The drake tapped the two barrels together and Sugarboy echoed the chant as they began drinking once more.

A low, guttural groan bubbled up from Callum stomach as it swelled outwards, his scutes spreading further apart as ample silver pudge bulged between them. Sugarboy’s buoy of a belly warbled a reply as the two of them were filled with increasing amounts of intoxicating ale.

Sugarboy felt his legs begin to press outward with the occupation of his stomach. The swollen dome now filled with a veritable pool of ale, it would’ve been an alcoholic fishes’ dream tank. For now, the blubbery horse functioned as a comfy waterbed for an equally bloated dragon.

Callum felt his gut protest the influx of alcohol, his scales and plates groaning in duress from the staggering quantity of liquid pooling around his waist. Halfway through his…fifth? Sixth? He’d lost count of which barrel, but it didn’t matter as the inebriated reptile struggled to get to his feet. It was only then he realized he couldn’t. Breathing unevenly, the drake wiggled his legs for traction, but a globular mass of scales, flab and ale loomed warm and heavy over his efforts. Not unlike the similar mass cushioning him.

“Erf…hic! ‘Ey bud, I dun’ think ah can move,” he slurred, turning drearily to Sugarboy. The horse paused, already three quarters finished with his own barrel.

A soft, rippling burp rolled through the stallion’s gut, jostling the voluminous love handles wrapped around Callum’s waist. “Welcome to th’club,” he quipped drunkly, “Wunderful, issn’t it?”

Groaning densely, Callum took another swig and smirked, “Wonderfullll mer like.” He giggled at the horrid joke, only receiving an eye roll from the enormous equine. “Shaddup, yah bilge ball,” the drake swatted the horse’s swollen flank, sending gallons of stallion swaying and sloshing against the barrels above them.

Watching the barrels rock precariously, Sugarboy saw an opportunity through the fog of drunkenness. Wobbling his hillock of a gut with the bulky dragon sinking into one side, the industrial horse managed to direct his titanic barrel into the crates of ale. As planned, the two nearest toppled directly on top of the horse’s gut, sending thick tremors through his bloated form.

Callum yelped as one rolled lopsidedly and crashed into his horns. The lip of the barrel lodged itself on the hook of his horns, dispensing a steady trickle of golden, Scottish malt into his maw. The other slipped down over the faint ovoid moobs forming Sugarboy’s chest and settled between them.

Both found themselves on the precipice of maximum capacity, with the equine greeting another barrel head on and sending his stomach’s contents groaning. Callum struggled to simply avoid drowning as he was forced to finish the final barrel.

Ominous creaks and sighs resonated from the reptile’s distended midsection as the rich liquid forced its way down his throat. He couldn’t deny an element of enjoyment in the situation, but if he stopped for even a moment, the ale would overwhelm him. It was like being water boarded to the point of being forced to swallow the ocean.

Together, the pair’s barrel levels began to dip, draining their contents gradually and with warm hisses as the luxurious liquid pushed against their stomachs. Sugarboy finished first, sending the barrel rolling off his engorged form with a shrug of his shoulders, though they were almost nonexistent at this point. He couldn’t see the silver drake over the curvature of his gut, but the equine could feel Callum sinking further into the towering mass.

The drake moaned softly, eyes glazed from fullness and a wonderful buzz. His paws caressed the prodigious water balloon overflowing his lap. Scutes were now stretched far and wide, making additional room for gurgling bands of platinum under flesh. He took solace in the tan wall supporting him, enjoying the supple horsehide conforming to his back and sloshing in tangent with his own gut. Gulping once more, the globular reptile finished the barrel and shook it off his horns.

“Errg…Think ahm gonna drown,” Callum moaned, looking over his massive midriff and then to his companion. Unfortunately, his view was impeded by Sugarboy’s own belly, but it didn’t matter to the intoxicated pair.

A soft whinny came in response, couple with a hiccup as Sugarboy sunk one hoof into his supple chest. “Yep, how’bout some cargo ships ‘stead of tractors?”

The drake nodded in agreement, still processing the scale he and his friend had attained. They were undeniably heavy, entirely pinned, and extensively sloshy. Any movement generated a ripple that would travel across the surface of their stomachs, bringing the water balloon imagery to mind once more.

“Worth it though,” Sugarboy huffed, enjoying the oscillating sensations swirling within his gut.

“Yep.” Callum slumped against his companion, feeling the overwhelming urge to pass out settle in his mind.

Sugarboy grunted as the drake rested against him, “Not goin’ anywhere, ‘re we?”

“Nope.” The bloated dragon got as comfortable as he could, jiggling softly with his efforts. His head was tipping forward, squishing into his tire of a neck.

The horse chuckled, his own eyes beginning to list heavily. He could hear Callum begin to snore, soon to be joined by his own. “Do it again sometime?” the horse managed to murmur.

“Yep…”