Never Return To The Scene Of The Crime

It's said that the criminal always returns to the scene of the crime. That was true in Damir's case although he knew he shouldn't. There aren't many rules around being a thief. But if there were any, that would certainly be it: Never return to the scene of the crime. Just break in, grab as much as you can, and hightail it out of there. In any other circumstance, Damir would have done just that. But where there are rules there are exceptions. It was a simple principal yet one he was willing to ignore for the right price.

The take on the last job was astronomical. After selling off the last of the items he stole from the witch's cottage deep within the Evergreen Woods, he and his partner Murkol walked away with more gold in that single burglary than they had in the past two years worth of thefts. Intoxicated by the immense payoff, the black bear opted to break this single yet crucial rule of robbing. He anf Murkol were set to leave the realm the next morning and follow up on some rumors they heard about ancient artifacts which might fetch a fine price. Damir wanted to risk it one more time before leaving the area. Murkol was more cautious, refusing to join the bear in robbing the witch again. And as night fell on their camp, he offered to stay behind and watch their belongings instead.

“Fine. But any gold I fetch belongs only to me!” Damir pointedly told his raccoon compatriot.

Murkol shrugged his shoulders. “Very well. Just be back before dawn breaks so we can sneak across the border. Otherwise we'll have to pay Tasitus to smuggle us across in his wagon.”

Hours laters, the black bear spotted in the dark distance the familiar outline of the cottage he robbed not many days ago. Damir snuffed out his lantern and inspected his surroundings. Everything was cast in darkness. No fires burned in the house. Either the sole occupant was sleeping or gone. Getting close to a window, the trim bear grabbed a dirt clod in his paw and hurled it at a window. It made a loud thud before exploding into dust. The bear waited a few minutes. Nothing. Someone surely would have investigated the noise. He judged that the cottage was empty.

Damir rushed up to the door and began picking the lock. In a matter of seconds it was opened. He quickly rushed in, shutting the door behind him. Reigniting his lantern, the bear quickly scanned the cottage for what valuables he could steal. Jewelry, rare potion ingredients, alchemy tools, all of them and more ended up in his rucksack. Knowing that time was of the essence, Damir quickly filled his bag with goods in only a few minutes and toss the full bag over his shoulder.

The bear shut the door behind him and ran back into the woods, sure that he could get away without issue. When he was mere feet away from the tree line, a bolt of red lighting shot past him just over his right shoulder. It whizzed by, hitting a tree nearby. Bark and wood exploded out as the tree burst in two. Panicked, Damir whirled around see an old grey cat of a witch, a crooked wand in one paw. She pointed it at the bear and another red bolt shot out. Diving out of the way, it struck the ground right where his feet were. Dirt was sent flying through the air. A small crater was now there.

Picking himself off the ground, Damir made a run for it. Zig zagging as he did, he nimbly dodged bolt after bolt of magic. They hit the trees he ran past as they lit up the night behind him. Bark and dirt landed all over his tunic. Glancing over his shoulder again, he saw that the witch and her cottage were nearly out of sight. Another minute and Damir would be safely out of the witch's range where he could then sneak away under the cover of night.

A boom erupted behind him and the bear was sent flying through the air. His impromptu flight ended a few seconds later when Damir collided head-first into a tree. The darkness of night was soon replaced by the darkness of unconsciousness.

When he came to some time later, he found himself in a heap on the forest floor. The bear's entire body ached; he felt a small river of blood coming from just above his forehead. In front of him stood the witch. She rummaged through his rucksack. A small orb of light bobbed beside her, illuminating the area. As the witch closed the sack up and toss it on her shoulder, she saw that Damir had regained consciousness. The old cat pointed her wand at him. A green spark lit the end. Damir held up his paws defensively knowing that he was in no state to outrun her magic again.

“You should have stayed away, thief!” the witch grumbled. “You should have stayed away and never come back! Now I'm going to make sure that you'll never be able to rob again!”

Before Damir would plead for his life, a green bolt of lightning shot out from the tip of wand. It streaked through the air before hitting him in the center of his chest. Instantly, the black bear's entire body felt like it was on fire. Damir screamed in agony. He tried to beg for the witch to reverse the curse, but the sheer pain he felt all over made it impossible to form words. The witch turned around to walk back towards her cottage, the ball of light following her. Damir reached out a paw and once again tried pleading. All that came out of him were screams. And as the burning sensation inside him intensified, he prayed that whatever magic infected him would end his life sooner rather than later.

***

Murkol grumbled. The sun was coming up as he sat on a rotting log next to a dying fire as the blackness of night transformed into light blue of day. Damir should have been back hours ago had it been a successful raid. Now he and the bear would have to pay Tasitus to help sneak them over the border into Amikron. Fifty gold pieces each was his going rate. And the raccoon was sure that he was going to make Damir pay even cent of it.

Leaves began to rustle off in the brush. Murkol glanced up to see what was moving about be it animal or otherwise. The racoon started to worry as he could feel tremors ripple through the ground while the rustle in the leaves came closer to him. He unsheathed his knife not knowing what was coming out of the forest but ready to defend himself anyways.

A mass of black fur stumbled out from behind the treeline. Well wider than it was tall, it moved at a snail's pace while the creature gasped for air. “Mur-Murkol! I...I found you!” it panted as it slowly made its way towards the racoon. The thing's entire body wobbled uncontrollably as its legs struggled to maneuver past each other.

Murkol held up the knife. He knew that the blade would do nothing to the enormously, blubbery creature in front of him. A stab could sink all the way to the hilt into it and probably not hit any vital organs. “Back, fiend!” yelled the racoon, brandishing the knife.

“Bu-bu... it's me…” it gasped, struggling to breath. “Da-Damir…”

“Liar!” Murkol shot back. “You are not! You're ju-”

“Laughing...Imp...that's where we met…”

The raccoon dropped his knife a few inches, scanning the creature's face as it slowly approached. It's pace was glacial, only able to move some inches forward to a time.

“...Damir?”

No wonder the raccoon didn't recognize his partner in crime. The black bear that waddled towards him looked more like a black blob than a black bear. The formerly slender fur had returned, his body covered in seemingly hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of pounds of fat. His cheeks had swollen up to the size of apples forcing him to squint his eyes. A thick ring of lard surrounded his neck making it nearly impossible to bend his head down as see the rest of his body. Two blobs the size of plump hams rested atop of a boulder of lard. Murkol doubted he could reach his arms around the belly of the girthy bear as it was wider around than even the stoutest of trees in the Evergreen Woods. It hung down to his knees avoiding the need for the bear to cover his shame. His belly slowly swayed as Damir tried to walk. Murkol reckoned his fist could fit inside to the bear's cavernous belly button. Thighs like wine barrels struggles to heave themselves past the other. Damir was forced to waddle awkwardly, swigging one enormous leg out at a time. Pillows of fat made up Damir's arms which stuck out from his body. His paws even looked so fat that it would difficult for him to ball them into fist.

“By the Gods! What happened to you?” Murkol asked, staring in awe as the bear's body. Never before had the racoon seen another fur so impossibly fat.

Damir had finally made his way by the fire. He had been waddling through the forest all night. The path to the cottage was a little under two hours to walk. But in his present state, it took Damir the rest of the night to made it back to camp. It was a long and miserable trip. The only solace was that while he was entirely nude, the bitter cold air of the night did not bother him. It wouldn't bother any fur who was also carrying around nearly ten times their original weight in warm blubber.

“The witch...she...ugh,” the bear tried getting words out. He was far too exhausted to talk right then. Spotting the log that Murkol had been sitting on, Damir made his way towards that. “Rest….need a…” Turning his body around towards the fire and preparing to set himself down, his whole body shifted around, jiggling like mad from such a simple movement. Murkol got a view of his partner's new rear. Wider than any wagon bench he sat on, the two globes of black fur each individually looked to weigh more than the racoon. Damir's rear stuck several feet behind him, nearly as much as his belly did. Imagine several sacks overstuffed with flour, covered in dark fur and separated by a vast canyon, and that's what Murkol was staring at. Damir's poor stubby tail was swallowed up in the sea of back fat and butt lard and was just as barely mobile as the bear himself, hardly able to wag.

Damir slowly lowered his butt onto the log. The two blobs spilled out (almost to either end of the log) and over it (hanging inches above the grass). Just when the bear rested his weigh down, the log collapsed under him with a thunderous boom. Damir felt himself dragged backwards as the log crumbled under him. He helplessly flapped his arms about as he fell onto his back with a thud. The huge sphere of his belly shook violently for a few moments before settling down.

“Gods! Are you hurt?” Murkol asked as he rushed to the gigantically fat bear.

Damir nodded. Or, at least, he tried to. The collar of fat under his chin made it hard for him to move his head at all. “Yeah...just need…nap…” Seconds later and the big bear was snoozing away, his snoring sending out a gentle rumbling through the ground.

Murkol shook his head. He rested an elbow on Damir's huge soft belly which came up to the raccoon's chest. Inspecting his friend's new fattened form, Murkol tired to figure out what to do next. “Zelinda knew a thing or two about magic. Maybe she can help. Too far to walk to walk, though. I'll have to hire Tasitus.” The raccoon gave Damir's gut a hard shove with his paw. The colossal belly shifted back and forth before settling down again. “Let's just hope you still fit in a wagon, friend.”