Shadow of a Cal-ossusFeaturing: Bradley and CalBy: hdalby33

In Bradley’s mind, the C. R. Hossington Wing was a place solitude. With meticulous white halls, uniform rows of art, and an unrepentant air of refinement, the place breathed with the subtle grace of a painter’s brush stroke and sculptor’s cut.

For the giraffe, it could not have a more calming environment. For most of the student body of Atlantis University, it was a pretentious building stuffed to the brim with snobby, la-di-dah elitists. Bradley didn’t care. If his two years at University had taught him anything, it was an ability to not give a single, solitary damn about the masses. Especially given his heritage.

Bradley had a unique way of standing apart from his peers. Even those in the art major. As a giraffe, he quite literally stood head and shoulders above the rest, towering over everyone at a sweeping eight and a half feet. To top it off, he’d been blessed with the long, lean physique of his species and the South African grit of his parents.

As a result, he’d been fielded by so many different sports organizations and athletics clubs that he’d made a copy-pasta email just to decline their incessant offers. He had no intention of becoming an athlete, and announced his love for the arts as loudly as he could whenever the sports world hounded at his heels.

The giraffe treasured his quiet time with his art, demonstrating a prowess for modern design and neo-realistic sculpting. He operated on a ‘healthy mind, healthy body’ philosophy, believing in a bridge between the mental and physical state of being.

That was why his next class, “The Beauty of the Organic Form,” was going to be a Hell on Earth. Some students liked to joke around by calling it the “Beauty of the Booty” class, given the core assignment was to draw a live model each week and their professor, a blue-footed booby named Ms. Monty, had a peculiar affinity for shapely rumps.

As Bradley gloomily set up his easel in the circle around the raised central staging area, his peers whispered to one another about who the model might be for this week. Hushed words bounced off the circular walls like a whisper gallery, becoming amplified by the spacy room’s ceilings.

But one word suddenly pricked the giraffe’s ears. “Cal.”

He wasn’t sure where it came from, but when it hit it detonated like a bomb. Every muscle in Bradley’s body went stiff, and he nearly dropped is easel. Around him, his peers continued setting up while their professor cleared her throat.

“Attention class,” Ms. Monty said in a singsong voice. “I’m sure some of you might have heard, but today we have a very special guest modeling for us.” She stalked among the rows of students, ensuring everyone had set their equipment up while filling the room

with slaps from her bright blue feet. “Our guest will be arriving shortly, and I want to warn you that he bears a very… peculiar physical stature.”

A couple students snickered, while Bradley just gulped. Someone muttered “Understatement of the century,” under their breath, but Ms. Monty didn’t catch it.

Instead the bird crept right up on the frozen giraffe, who’d only got as far as setting out his easel prior to hearing the rumors. His paper, pencils, charcoal and apparently his brain were all still in his bag. “Mr. Ladysmith-Johansson, would you perhaps care to join the rest of us on planet Earth, now?”

“Yes, Ms. Booby! Augh- Ms. Monty!” Bradley blurted, turning bright red. His peers snorted as he hung his neck in embarrassment, somehow managing to be stared down by a bird who barely came up to his hip. It had to be those spectacles- they gleamed.

Ms. Monty nodded, tapping his canvas and ignoring the laughter. “Any day now, dear.” As Bradley shamefacedly focused on setting out his things, the bird continued. “Now Class, as I was saying, our guest is quite… unique. So please refrain from any commentary, save for thoughtful observations.”

As if to echo her words, a gigantic shadow fell across the room. All the light shining through the entrance diminished, replaced by an enormous silhouette. Standing rigid, Bradley’s heart throbbed and his stomach fluttered as the outline of a great, swollen bull walked, no... lumbered into the room.

For every inch Bradley loomed above his classmates, Cal loomed outward. The immense bovine looked like one giant ball of chocolate ice cream scooped into a tiny cone by some over-generous server. Every part of him jiggled endlessly as he forced legs thick as tree trunks against his overhang to make it to the center of the room.

Cal had managed to stuff himself into a blue XXXXL jersey with his surname and number stretched widely across his back in white: BOAVIDA and 50. The clothes were little more than a formality however, as his belly sagged out several feet in rich brown rolls and dove back into his chunky body at the groin. Two fuzzy beachballs strapped together by the grace of a low-riding waistband were all that kept Cal’s impressive rump from eating up a comparatively thin tail.

While a couple of students hooted at the bull and one daringly reached out and slapped his wide rear for luck as he passed, Ms. Monty continued to narrate the bull’s reputation. “Calvin, as some of you may know, is a football player for our very own Atlantians. He’s kindly agreed to model for us this week…”

The booby’s voice faded from Bradley’s consciousness as he struggled to keep from outright ogling the colossal bull. Absolutely no introduction was necessary for Cal. EVERYBODY knew about him, or at least about his antics on the field. Pushing seven hundred pounds, the orb of ground beef had led AU to multiple victories simply by being given the ball, pointed in the general direction of the end zone, and bulldozing toward it until someone stopped him.

His weight was a thing of campus legend, growing as rapidly as his reputation. Wild rumors circulated about some of Cal’s teammates stuffing him silly prior to the game to get both his weight and temper boiling. Then they’d slap, jiggle, and squeeze the bovine’s figure to cap off the ritual before letting him stampede out onto the field.

And Cal loved it, or at least seemed too. When asked what his major was, he’d reply with a slow, steady “Uhh… Football, I think...” No one ventured further than that. No one wanted to when the big, bloated bovine won them game after game.

For Bradley, Cal’s presence had another significance entirely. While the giraffe didn’t enjoy organized athletics, he did often go running at the gym to stay fit. One day, while changing in the locker rooms, the lean giraffe had encountered the bull. Or, more accurately, the bull’s backside had encountered him.

Bradley suddenly recalled that moment- bending down one second and suddenly being crushed against the lockers by a hot, oppressive force the next. Cal had been “slipping” between other locker room patrons, shifting his bulk through the six-foot wide corridor, and ended up accidentally pinning the tallest student on campus with his expansive, sweaty butt.

As a refined South African who came from traditional means, Bradley should’ve felt outraged and repulsed. Instead, a fascination had taken hold in his muscled breast, and he’d found himself longing for the pressure of that blubbery sack of a bovine to return.

Now he had.

Bradley abruptly snapped back to the present. He finished setting his equipment out just as Ms. Monty came to the end of her little spiel.

“…So thank you once again, Calvin, for volunteering. We so rarely get to study such a unique stature in this class.”

Cal nodded slowly, sending several chins bobbing as he tugged on his jersey. "Suuuure thing Ms. M.”

With that, the booby had the bull disrobe, while Bradley watched in heated effort to not appear too interested. But he couldn’t help but enjoy the sheer degree of wobble traversing the bull’s figure as he watched Cal peel off his jersey and shorts. A pair of thick moobs rested along the curve of the bull’s belly, while his rear wobbled like chocolate jello. Cal was a wiiiiide fella.

The giraffe could already see how he planned on sketching this beautiful fatty, with an emphasis for ellipses and curves all the way through.

Ms. Monty had Cal get up onto the viewing platform, making it groan loudly, before directing the bull to lay on one voluminous side. From his place in the surrounding circle

Bradley received a truly wonderful view of beefy rump, curving back valley, juicy legs, and a crescent of the bull’s rising gut. It was perfect.

Over the joking and laughter of her students, Ms. Monty announced quiet time and the class immediately hushed. No one dared mess with the bird and her sketching sessions.

Bradley embraced the absence of sound, losing himself to the canvas, the challenge, and the gorgeous, girthy doughball sprawled before him.

Over the past several months, as Bradley’s infatuationwith this blimp of a bovine grew, the giraffe had mulled over just what was so appealing about Cal’s overfed figure. The conventional standards of beauty certainly weren’t the reason, unless they were buried under hundreds of pounds of brown-furred blubber. It took the South African native several good, long, surreptitious looks at Cal’s bloated figure to finally figure it out.

As he sketched a bowing outline of AU Football Team’s pride and joy, Bradley reveled in just how much of this doughball he had to draw. His revelation came when Bradley looked over his own lean figure in a mirror. From a waist tapered in slender muscle to arms and legs banded with well-exercised curves, the giraffe realized that in Cal he’d found something his “healthy mind, healthy body” chakra failed to provide: excess.Every time the giraffe’s gaze wandered over Cal’s swollen figure, his eyes were lost in the rolling plains of the bull’s hide. From a soft, sagging belly that teetered dangerously close to the ground to the abundant bulges of fat struggling to break free of Cal’s outfit.

And now he was getting to draw the gorgeous fatass, with no fear of how other students might judge him. He slowly drew his pencil into a smooth arc across the page, outlining the immense bulge of Cal’s meaty backside. Briefly the giraffe recalled the weight of those two doughy cheeks squashing up against his chest, smothering him.

Breaking into a mild sweat at the thought, Bradley quickly moved onto the bull’s back, taking in the gentle, brown lovehandles piled along either side of Cal’s spine. The experience felt wonderfully surreal as the giraffe slowly bought his vision of the bull’s ample figure to fruition, even adding a couple extra inches of width for good measure at the waist.

Ms. Monty’s voice almost made Bradley jump as she shattered his fun. “Aaaaand time!” the booby squawked.

A startled ‘moo’ from Cal made the class laugh as the bull looked around the room. Seemed like the bovid had dozed off after all. “Oh… am I done, then?”

Ms. Monty patted his cheek. “Yes, dear. You were wonderful.”

Cal looked pleased at that. He slowly sat up, rubbing his girth. “Think it’s time for me to get some grub.”

“Certainly, dear. But don’t forget your clothes.”

Over the general sniggering, one of the students piped up. “Not like they’d make a difference for Cal-ossus!”

The other student’s whooped and cheered, making Cal’s eyebrows furrow.

Ms. Monty quieted everyone down and offered the bull his clothes, which the bull tried to squeeze into. When she realized he wasn’t getting anywhere, she opted to dismiss the class while assisting the bull.

While everyone else packed their things, Bradley lingered, packing his sketch pad slowly and watching for as long as he could. Eventually he realized he was the only one left when Ms. Monty, having spent over a minute trying to cinch Cal’s shorts up his chunky thighs, turned to the giraffe with an exasperated look.

“Bradley, dear… do you think you could assist? I’d be happy to give you extra credit.”

The giraffe turned bright pink as Cal filled the room with angered moos, grumbling about food. Stammering, he nodded and headed over to the mound of a cow, trying not to look too overcome. “S-sure thing, Ms. Monty! I’d be… happy too…”

The bird handed him the bull’s shorts, which Bradley stooped to hitch up Cal’s swollen thighs. Being in such close proximity to the blubbery bull turned the giraffe’s breathing shallow as he felt his paws sink into the warm flab of Cal’s legs. With a grunt, he drew the shorts as far up the bull’s rump as he could, feeling his paws become sandwiched between tight fabric and lard so soft it seemed to suck his digits in.

Once the shorts were in place, Ms. Monty had her student do the top. Bradley did as he was told, winching the poor jersey down over a pair of football-sized pecs and coming to a rest atop a spare tire fit for a tractor.

Cal gave the giraffe a snort of thanks, before holding out one pudgy hoof. “Thanks dude, name’s Cal.”

Bradley shook it. ‘Oh I know,’ he almost said. Instead he replied, “Uh… Bradley.”

After Ms. Monty thanked the giraffe for his help and the bull for his participation, she set about packing her own things up.

Cal looked the towering giraffe over, a look of approval glinting in his dopey features. “You’re pretty damn tall, yah know.”

“And you’re pretty freakin’ wide,” the giraffe shot back before he could think of something else. It was instinctive given all the digs about his height. Cringing internally, he backtracked by apologizing, “I-I mean… I’m so sorry, I-”

Cal laughed a genuine belly laugh. Bradley watched it ripple in earthy waves. “It’s fine, haha. Like the whole school knows that one!”

The giraffe slowly relaxed. “I guess that’s true,” he chuckled. He grunted as the bull gave him a friendly hip-check which, at Bradley’s height, meant a thick, brown hip to his thigh. Still, the contact was enough to get him blushing as he looked over at his art supplies.

Part of the South African native wanted to take all his belongings and hightail it back to his homeland where the only mention of a load of bull was his father cursing the government.

The other part wanted to interlock that bull’s gloriously swollen gut in his arms and squeeze every inch of it.

Seeing how Bradley was short on plane tickets, he opted to meet himself halfway.

“Wanna grab some lunch… over at Halloway’s?” he asked.

Cal’s rounded face lit up at the mention of food. “Oh definitely. What’s today?”

The giraffe paused for a moment, eyeing the bull’s swollen moobs as Cal tugged at his jersey. “Er... Friday. Game day.”

“Right!” the bull let out a happy moo. “Means All-American at the buffet!” He became more animated than Bradley had ever seen him. “Burgers, fries, hotdogs, pizza-”

“Pizza’s Italian.”

“The good kind,” Cal grunted as he placed a pudgy fist on Bradley’s shoulder, enveloping him in chocolate rolls. “C’mon, I’ll show yah.”

“B-but I’m vegetarian,” Bradley stammered, all too aware of just how much exposed bullhide he was rubbing up against.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” the cow grunted, his belly undulating in gravid bounces as he marched them out of the art building and onto the AU’s main campus walk. Together they bulldozed a line through the herds of other students heading to class.

Bradley could feel each pair of eyes linger on him and the bull. He didn’t dare separate from Cal’s grasp as the bull parted the crowds with each sluggish step. Those not paying attention were just sort of brushed aside over the curvature of the colossal bovine’s midriff, like minnows parting around a whale.

By the time they reached Halloway Hall, Cal was panting audibly, and Bradley felt as though he might spontaneously combust at any moment. He bounced gently against Cal’s blubbery side, which had grown slightly slick with sweat. Once they squeezed through the front door, the bull’s nostrils flared. He abruptly picked up the pace, and resorted to dragging the giraffe along by the paw.

Caught off-guard yet again, Bradley stumbled along unsteadily while trying to hide his near nine-foot frame from the onlookers. His only saving grace was being forced to lean

forward, which treated him to a view of Cal’s rump jiggling madly against straining shorts as the cow barreled toward the buffet.

Several furs dove clear as Cal grabbed several trays with impressive grace and began loading them with his favorites. Bradley gaped as Cal loaded one with a tremendous selection of potato and pepper casserole, quesadillas, and veggie burgers before shoving it unceremoniously into the giraffe’s arms. Then the hefty beefball gathered three trays of his own, piling every food known to mammal into gravity-defying pyramids, and led Bradley over to one of the booths.

There, the cow used his belly to lever the bench several feet from the table and scooted in. He invited Bradley to sit next to him and the giraffe obliged.

Trying not to stare at the table’s edge digging into the bull’s stomach or the way in which Cal balanced his tray on his chest for easier access, Bradley picked at a quesadilla and tried to make small talk. “Uh… S-soooo… is this, umm… sort of a pre-game warm-up?”

“Huh?” Cal looked at the giraffe in confusion as he crammed a mouthful of fries in. “Oh yeah, heh. I guess. I’m also just seriously achin’ for some bacon, yah know?”

“Sure,” the giraffe agreed, noting the bull’s nostrils flaring with each bite. Cal seriously enjoyed his food.

In mere seconds the bull devoured one of the trays while Bradley worked through his own lunch as carefully as he could.

Between bites, Cal somehow managed to keep a conversation flowing. “So… urp! You do art stuff?”

“Yeah,” Bradley murmured, recalling the sketch he’d done of the swollen bull. “How about you?”

“I uh… I do football.” Cal chomped through a burger in two bites and scratched at a rubbery love handle.

“No classes?”

The bull paused for a moment, rubbing his chins. “Well sure, but football’s my main gig,” he smirked and slapped his girth, making it ripple. “Along with eating.”

Bradley nodded. “So I gathered.”

Cal furrowed his brow in concern at how little the giraffe had eaten. “What about you? Figure even a veg-head would eat more than that.”

The giraffe blushed and took a large bite of his quesadilla. “Sorry, I got a bit distracted.”

Grinning, the bull grabbed at his sides and gave them a jiggle. “No sweat. I know I can be a bit of an eyesore.”

Bradley looked horrified. “No, no! That’s not what I meant! I mean you just… I just don’t usually eat this early,” he finished lamely.

Cal snorted, but didn’t say anything as he returned to his meal.

The giraffe stuffed another bite of quesa in his mouth and tried to bury his woes. Their conversation slowly turned from academics to football as Cal inquired why the giraffe hadn’t tried out as a wide receiver. Bradley was surprised to find the bull sympathetic to his aversion for the sporting world.

It turned out both of them had been constantly scoped out for athletics, albeit for highly different reasons. Through constantly stuffed cheeks, Cal explained how he’d come to AU as a heavyset bovine High School footballer, joined the college team, and inexplicably ballooned from there. When asked how it felt to be a campus legend for his waistline, the bull only smirked and gestured to the endless supply of food. If people wanted to tease him and grope him and stuff him because they saw him as a big, blubbery idol, Cal obviously wasn’t one to complain.

The bull’s outlook made Bradley consider his own situation for a second. They both obviously possessed a build that would make them unusually dominant in the athletic world. Only difference was one had chosen to embrace it and the other to shun it.

Before Bradley knew it, his tray was empty and Cal, who looked no different than before, dug a meaty arm into the giraffe’s side. “Now that’s how a dude as tall as you eats!”

The giraffe belched softly and chuckled uncertainly. “Uh… Guess you’re rubbing off on me,” he joked, patting the ample tire of flesh squishing against him.

Having gotten to know the big guy better, Bradley actually began to feel a little more comfortable. Cal was a bit… dopey for sure, but surprisingly grounded (pun intended) and down to earth.

“So Brad,” the bull sighed, plopping a swollen arm on the giraffe’s shoulder. “How would you like to come to the game tonight?” He held up a hoof when the giraffe protested. “And I know yah don’t like it or whatever, but how ‘bout some backstage passes?”

“What do you mean?”

Cal grinned. “Means access to the locker rooms and field side. You’d have a quality view of Yours Truly beating the heck out of the Trauma State Tigers.”

Bradley had heard of the school before; a small, but fierce medical institution known for putting its opponents in the ICU and then treating them afterwards.

But that had no influence on the giraffe’s response. “Sounds pretty fun, actually!” Truthfully, Bradley just wanted to see as much of this magnificent meatball as he could get away with, and watching him squish other players sounded pretty novel.

“That’s the spirit, Brad!” Cal pounded the lean giraffe on his back, making him choke. Then the bull scooted out of the booth, letting his enormous front bounce into its signature sag. The bull smiled wide and jotted something on a napkin in crooked script: EGG - 6:30, C-Gate.

“Be there tonight and someone’ll letcha in!”

Bradley eyed the napkin, and then the beaming ball of beef only a couple inches away. The Egg was the nickname for AU’s tremendous football stadium, which sported a pure-white roof. He folded it carefully and placed it in his backpack, feeling excitement about a sporting event for the first time in years.

“Uh… alright then. I’ll s-see you there!”

Cal turned to go, almost sending a group of sorority girls flying with his gut. “You’ll have the best view in the house, stick man!” he called over his shoulder.

“It won’t exactly be impossible to spot you,” the giraffe called back, shaking his blonde head and laughing. He watched the bulging cow waddle out of the mess hall before finally realizing just what he’d agreed too.

The bull he’d been infatuated with from afar for almost a year now had just personally invited him to the game. Back-stage. Bradley gulped, and even though he was still sitting down, the room spun dizzily. He hoped he hadn’t just made a huge mistake.

———

Game days at AU were something else. With a student population of nearly thirty thousand and a stadium that could seat twice that, the streets weaving through the college campus quickly became clogged with tailgaters and rabid fans.

More than once, Bradley spotted a poster of AU’s star bull painted in all his rotund glory. To fit in better, the giraffe had purchased a jersey from the campus store with Cal’s signature 50. It shone in the blue and white of the school colors and hung loosely off the giraffe’s muscular shoulders. His slender arms and lean waist were perfect for maneuvering the throngs of fans.

To complete the effect of blending in, Bradley had dyed his blonde mane with streaks of blue and let it fall in a loose plait down his long neck. Though his height still drew stares, most furs were too drunk or hyped up to pay him any mind.

Slowly, Bradley wove his way around the edge of the Egg to the least crowded spot near the C-gate. C-gate was where the teams, maintenance and other staff came and went unimpeded.

Bradley found a lemur in a day glow vest lounging at the security gate. “Hey,” he said quietly. No answer. Clearing his throat, the giraffe lowered his head and spoke louder. “Excuse me?”

The lemur jumped. “Oh, hey! It’s you!”

The giraffe tilted his head. “Excuse me?”

“You’re Brad, right?”

Bradley nodded, looking confused. “Right… and how did-?”

“Cal said to watch out for tallest dude on campus. That he’d be coming here pre-game.”

‘Of course he did,’ Bradley thought. “You know Cal?” He asked.

“Oh yeah!” The lemur spoke with genuine fondness. “He’s always bringing me subs and stuff when he practices. Says I need to bulk up.”

Bradley laughed, remembering the tray of quesadillas the bull had made him chow down. His stomach was still grumbling from that meal. “He, uh… certainly has that effect on people. Now if I was looking for the locker room…”

“Straight down the main corridor, second hall on the left. It’ll be labeled,” the lemur directed. “Just a heads up though: Cal’s a big part of the pre-game warm ups and they can be pretty… interesting.”

‘I can believe that,’ the giraffe mused to himself, imagining that swollen side of beef being jiggled and heckled by his teammates. “Alright, well thanks…”

“Roy,” the lemur supplemented.

“Roy,” Bradley said as he began heading for the locker room. “I’ll be sure to tell Cal to bring you more subs.”

The lemur flashed a thumbs-up before returning to looking bored as ever.

Bradley turned and ventured down the corridor, hearing the dull roar of thousands of fans above him.

Taking a deep breath, the giraffe followed the lemur’s directions to a simple metal door marked ‘AU Atlantians Locker Room.’ He paused for a moment to compose himself and stepped in.

Whatever Bradley had expected to see, it hadn’t involved a near-naked bull wrapped in a towel, lying precariously on a tiny bench. Or what seemed like the entire team standing around him with a 10 gallon Gatorade cooler propped up on the bull’s chest. Or said teammates chanting “CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!!!” while the swollen bovine funneled the Gatorade in huge gulps.  

Honestly the giraffe wasn’t sure what he’d envisioned. But that didn’t mean what he saw now was unpleasant. From this angle, Cal managed to look even heavier. His bloated

rump and supple back rolls piled over the bench, anchoring him in place as he contrasted against the muscular athletes surrounding him. Cal’s gut rose just level with the tallest of the players - a burly, grey horse who just topped 7 feet.

The bull’s gut sloshed audibly as he downed the flood of electrolytes and the players pounded his belly enthusiastically, continuing to chant. Cal’s rounded features appeared far more in focus now then they had been during the modeling session. Bradley attributed that to the combination of drinking and football - two of the bull’s favorite things.

And now this battering ram of a bovine was swelling even larger, his stomach visibly expanding as he finished downing the 10 gallon cooler, wiped his mouth, and belched. Several players helped him roll over, where he stood with a sluggish jiggle that made his stomach bob against the locker room floor.

For a brief moment his towel fell to the ground, causing Bradley to duck his head with a blush, but there was little to see. The horse who’d been chanting the loudest for the bull smacked his stomach and plopped the bull’s outfit on a bench nearby.

“Time to get dressed, Cal-ossus! We need our Bulldozer out there stat, sending those Trauma bastards to the Emergency Ward!”

Cal laughed and punched the horse’s shoulder, before finally noticing Bradley lingering awkwardly near the entrance. “Will do, Knox. Just pass me the ball and I’ll be good to go!” Then the bull excused himself to the rest of the team, promising to meet them out there.

From the way none of the other players argued with him, Bradley guessed they’d also seen how long it took Cal to dress. The giraffe felt thankful as the players filtered out. A couple had casted glances his way, uncertain of whether he was a creepy fan or a potential recruit. Bradley heard “Goddamn, he’s tall,” and “Why isn’t he playing for us?” at least four times before everyone left.

Then it was only himself and Cal left in the locker room.

A moment of silence passed between them before Cal scratched one of his moobs and lifted up his jersey. “Well?”

“W-Well what?” Bradley stammered.

“You gonna help me or not, man?”

“Oh… OH! Yeah, sure.” The giraffe hurried over as Cal snickered.

“Just pullin’ your mane, dude. Nice to see you’re eager to help the fat-guy though!”

Blushing hugely, Bradley helped tug the jersey over the bull’s ample front. It was the same size as the one hanging from his own frame, but on Cal it was skin-tight and more of a glorified bra than a jersey. One of the signature images fans had grown accustomed

too in AU’s games over the past couple years was seeing a round, brown blimp waddle from endzone to endzone.

That same image now loomed before Bradley in a far more daunting fashion. He could literally feel the gravitational waves radiating off Cal’s frontage, seeming to suck against his own lean torso. The diamonds along Bradley’s upper neck turned as red as his jersey when he finished tugging Cal’s top down. Supple brown flesh pressed his fingers against the fabric, warm and soft to the touch.

Cal cleared his throat to get Bradley’s attention yet again. “Yo, you mind doin’ the other end?”

The giraffe shook his head, annoyed with himself. ‘Pay attention, you idiot!’ he seethed internally.

“R-right! Sure thing… bud.” He took a step back in alarm when Cal deftly swung his figure around like a train car changing tracks and presented Bradley with a very familiar sight. The same one that had kickstarted this bewildering infatuation.

Cal’s buttocks jiggled scant inches away from Bradley’s figure - two tremendous orbs bowing out precariously into empty space, supported by legs thicker around then the giraffe’s waist. A pair of white shorts striped with blue hit him in the chest, which Bradley stretched out in his paws with pity.

The bull turned his thick head as far as he could to smirk at the giraffe. “They’re used to it, man! Now come on! Kickoff’s gonna be any minute.”

“Right! S-sorry!” Bradley held them out so the hamball could step into them. Then the giraffe sloooowly slid them up the bull’s girth. Part of the effort came from the resistance met by the bull’s numerous rolls along his thighs and the other part came from Bradley trying not to stare at THOSE rolls. He failed miserably.

The bull’s ample rear filled his view; two swollen, earthy globes squashed together by their sheer weight. Piles of love handles gathered over them before gradually smoothing out where the bull’s thick hide pulled tight over his colossal gut. Bradley cinched the shorts up inch by inch, watching Cal’s figure undulate gelatinously. He could feel the weight pressing back against his paws as he slid those shorts up to roughly a half-moon.

Somehow the giraffe knew that was the most he could expect out of them. Asking anything beyond that would be ludicrous, and secretly the South African enjoyed this view more.

Once everything was set, Bradley gave his companion a soft pat on one cheek and stood. “All set, buddy.”

Cal mooed happily and grabbed his helmet. After squeezing it over his round face, the bull slowly teetered into standing position, wrapped an arm around his slender friend, and

led the way out of the locker room, down another long hallway, and toward a field utterly drenched by stadium lights.

As they stepped into the stadium, the roar of nearly sixty thousand fans rolled over them. Bradley nearly stumbled from the sheer volume, with waves upon waves of blue and white Atlantians roaring against the red and black of the Trauma State Tigers. Stretching before them stood the Egg’s home stage: a sprawling expanse of pristine green turf populated with imposing athletes, headphone-wearing coaches, barking trainers, panicked ball boys, dazzling cheerleaders, and one very, very wide bull.

The cheering swelled as Cal took to the field, his belly bobbing against the turf with each step and his sides rolling against Bradley.

The giraffe’s breathing increased rapidly as he realized he was now at the epicenter of thousands of fans’ attention, mane dyed blue-blonde and cozied up against the fattest goddamn player in the country. Nerves began to slither up the South African’s long throat, but Bradley reasoned he might as well embrace the ridiculousness.

Cal led him to the player’s bench, where he introduced the head coach - a sturdy bear known as Coach Hive. The bear grinned at his star player and gave his belly a good thump. “About goddamn time, son! Thought you might’ve gotten stuck or something!”

“Sorry coach! Changing just took a bit longer than usual,” Cal’s belly sloshed under the thumping. “Knox and the fellas made sure I was well hydrated though.”

“Good. Excellent.” Hive suddenly caught wind of the eight-and-a-half foot giraffe pressed to the bull’s side. “And who’s this guy? New recruit?”

Bradley saw the hungry glint in the coach’s eyes as his height was appraised, already forming a polite rebuttal. To his surprise, Cal got there first.

“Not a recruit, Coach. Just a friend and a fan. Figured he’d enjoy the game up close and personal.”

The bear winched his head up to look Bradley full on, making the towering South African blush. “Pretty sure he could enjoy it from just about anywhere,” he laughed. “Listen here…”

“Bradley,” Bradley offered.

“Brad the Rad!” Cal mooed, hip checking his friend with a wobble.

Hive shook his head. “Listen Brad, I won’t push it, but if yah ever find yourself leaning toward athletics, just hit me up. That’s all. I mean we turned this meatball,” he prodded Cal’s swollen girth, “into a damn star and he started out a shade under 170. So just think about what we could do with you!”

Bradley entertained the notion and dismissed it immediately. “Thanks for the offer,” he laughed nervously, “but seriously, I’m good.”

Cal took that opportunity to depart, making Bradley promise to watch him in action and Hive promise not to bother the giraffe anymore. Both agreed with questionable integrity. Once satisfied, Cal let out a hearty bellow that swept up into the cacophonous roar of the crowds and charged over to his teammates.

As the bull began warming up, something occurred to the giraffe. Leaning closer to the coach, he asked “What position does Cal play by the way?”

Hive snorted as though the giraffe had just stumbled in on a little joke. “Full-back.”

“Oh.” A smile slowly spread across Bradley’s long muzzle. “Of course he is.”

Due to their timely arrival, the game started shortly. Bradley watched as the two team captains, Cal and the QB draft horse for the Atlantians and identical twin tiger sharks for the Trauma Tigers met in the center of the field.

After a coin toss awarded the ball in favor of the Atlantians, an already tense showdown between the two rivals kicked up to the level of a supernova. Fan screamed, banners waved, Bradley even spotted a beach ball painted brown with a ‘50’ stenciled on it bouncing around.

Even in the melee of the game, Bradley could feel eyes on him. The back of his neck, his blonde-blue mane, his entire body felt like a target for curiosity. As if he was somehow obliged to be out on that field simply due to his height. Then his gaze gravitated toward Cal, who’d just been handed the ball from kickoff.

For the first time, Bradley witnessed just how valuable the bull was to the team. He took that ball and began bulldozing for the other endzone. Given Cal’s monumental girth, the bovine understandably lacked speed. His stomach seemed to drag through the turf as he jiggled and wobbled his way each and every yard.

But speed barely mattered when size came into play. As Bradley had seen before, the swollen side of beef naturally parted crowds due to his sheer girth and similar results could be seen now. Several Trauma players slammed into his middle at full speed only to be spun off to either side or actually steamrolled by the bull. They’d punch into that brown orb of lard, compress like a tin can, and catapult back out only to crash into the turf. Then they’d be subjected to a warm, blubbery overhang dragging over them like an impending planet.

After several moments of blackness Cal would move on, churning on his merry way. Bradley thought he could detect the bull’s shorts creaking from the sidelines as they struggled to contain the doughball’s pumping haunches.

Cal wasn’t unstoppable though. He ended up crashing down to earth at the forty-five yard line, but AU fans loved every second of it, chanting “CAL-OSS-SUS! CAL-OSS-SUS!”

Bradley found himself taking up the chant, infected by the raw enthusiasm pervading the stadium. He bellowed Cal’s name along with the rest of the stadium, watching Knox clap the hefty bovid on the rump and congratulate him.

For a brief moment, Bradley could’ve sworn that grey stallion looked directly at him and then patted the panting beef-ball with a wink. As though the horse new precisely what the South African felt. Then the moment dissipated in the thunder of the crowd and the shouting of coaches at players.

Across the field, Bradley spotted the Trauma State players hunkered down in deep conversation. They’d just lost forty-five yards, one squashed player, and a hell of a lot of pride to a bull who weighed more than half their team combined.

Leaning over, the giraffe pointed out the scheming team to the coach who only laughed loud and long. “Son, every team does that when they come up against Cal. No one knows what to do with an eight hundred pound bull.”

‘I do,’ Bradley almost said, burning bright red at thought. He suddenly found he knew exactly what to do with Cal. And it involved quite a few questionable things not suitable for general audiences. “I guess that’s true,” he laughed instead, gazing at Cal who’d been bellowing happily among his teammates and waving his tremendous gut at the crowds.

“Cal’s a war machine,” Coach Hive declared, “Trauma State doesn’t stand a chance!”

And they didn’t. At least not to Bradley’s understanding. Every time Cal got the ball, he’d push further and further toward the end zone; a sweaty, blubbery force of nature literally crushing the competition.

By the end, AU’s score stood far higher than their competitors’ and many of the Trauma State players avoided the bovine as best they could. When Cal came trotting off the field, his teammates engulfed him in a group tackle while the stadium thundered with cheering. Another win for the Atlantians.

Once the energy began dying down and the players started filtering toward the locker room, Cal reunited with the giraffe. He beamed from one broad cheek to the other, moobs rolling as he panted energetically. “Sooo, Brad the Rad, whadja think!” he mooed, plopping one thick arm on the giraffe’s waist and guiding them toward the lockers.

Bradley felt the bull’s slick sides roll against his hip, making the giraffe pause for a moment. “It was pretty awesome,” he chuckled. “You certainly had some… interesting plays.”

Cal grinned. “Like what?”

“Liiiike the one where you… squashed that player?”

The bull grinned wider. “Which one?”

Bradley ducked his head as they entered the locker room once again. The dull pulse of thousands of fans slowly filtering out of the stadium sounded above. “W-well there were so many, I-” he stopped, realizing the bull was messing with him. “Basically whenever you hauled your fatass down the field,” he blurted exasperatedly, feeling a bit of his Boer accent sneaking in.

“Yah flatter me, man!” Cal mooed mirthfully, waddling into the crowded locker rooms to the cheers of his teammates.

“And you flatten everyone else,” the giraffe coughed, smirking at the cow who shoved him gently in return. They were briefly interrupted by the multitude of fellow athletes ambushing the bovine with celebratory slaps and squeezes and jiggles, along with a chant of “Cal! Cal! Cal!”

Then a familiar face quieted everyone down to speak. It was the stallion quarterback; a muscled equine with a shaggy black mane. “Now I know tradition calls for us to give Cal here a bit of a celebration chug after our win today, but I think the honor should go to his friend! Brad the Rad!”

“Brad the Rad!” the team chanted, jostling the giraffe.

Bradley blushed and waved humbly, before gulping when the horse grinned at him. He was saved at the last moment when Cal intervened. “Yah know fellas, I love each and every one of yah, but I ain’t terribly thirsty right now.” The bull shared a knowing look with the stallion, while Bradley just watched on, mystified. “Why don’t you guys check out early and I’ll meet up with yah later?”

A couple teammates catcalled him, but the majority accepted the request from their secret weapon. Soon they were all changing and showering, before everyone filed out. Only Cal, Bradley, and the stallion were left.

Once they’d gone, Cal fist-bumped the horse. “Thanks for taking this one, Knox.”

“Sure thing, dude.”

Bradley watched the pair curiously. “Wh-what’s going on?”

Cal grinned and poked Knox’s side. “The QB here agreed to take the fall for me tonight. Usually we’d go out, celebrate a little, I’d eat too much and pass out. Instead he’s gonna cover for us.”

“And what are you going to do instead?” the giraffe stammered.

“Whatever you want.” Knox said, gathering his stuff. “But for what it’s worth, the concession stand on the southside was left unlocked…” He shrugged in theatrical disbelief. “Some people are so careless.” With that, the stallion punched Cal’s gut once more, clapped Bradley on his shoulder, and trotted out.

Bradley was left alone once more with the largest bovine in the university. Cal turned to him and grinned, “So… anything you’d like to do, Brad the Rad?”

Slowly revelation dawned on the South African. He smiled nervously and placed his paws on either side of Cal’s swollen figure, giving it a squeeze. The bull had known all along about his infatuation. “I guess… we should check out those concessions, huh? Make sure no one’s stealing them.”

Cal mooed softly as the giraffe’s lengthy arms encompassed his looming gut. “Guess we should. Good Samaritans and all.”

Together they padded back out into the sterile darkness of a now emptied stadium. A couple soft night lights illuminated the field, casting long shadows over the turf field and the giant Atlantians logo in the middle. When they reached the center of the field, Bradley had the bull plop on his ponderous rear.

Now that he knew how the bull felt about him, the giraffe was more confident in what he wanted to do - namely stuff the hell out of this gorgeous mountain of ground beef..

“Don’t go anywhere,” Bradley laughed, “I’ll be back soon.”

“Just don’t take too long,” Cal called after him, laying on one girthy side. “I AM kinda hungry y’know, despite what I said.”

“Oh there’s a surprise,” the giraffe called back as he disappeared to scrounge what he could.

It didn’t take long to locate the concession stand. A note taped to the door said “Stuff him BIG, Brad the Rad! We got playoffs next week.” Oh, he would stuff that warm ball of bovine blubber big, Bradley thought, but not for playoffs. He finally had a chance to get this big, beautiful doughball to himself and he was going to make the most of it.

Loading a storage trolley full of hotdogs, burgers, nachos, popcorn, and everything else he could find, Bradley eventually returned to Cal with a vastly overladen cart.

Cal’s features lit up at the sight of all the food, his gut rumbling loudly. “‘Bout time! I thought I would waste away!”

“You wouldn’t waste away in an Arctic blizzard,” Bradley laughed. “And don’t worry. I just hope you’re ready for a proper, South African-sized meal.”

“Bring it on.”

Bradley did just that. He positioned Cal on his back so the long-legged giraffe could straddle his chest and be in position to shovel the bull full of goodies.

Beneath his toned butt, Bradley felt the bull’s moobs compress like cushions, taking his weight with ease. It felt reminiscent of sinking into a memory-foam mattress. “God you’re soft,” Bradley laughed.

Cal smirked and flexed one pillow of a bicep. “Give that a feel.”

Bradley leaned forward tentatively, balancing a burger in one paw as he reached out with the other. His fingers sank into the plush lard like jello, and continued going for several inches before coming to a halt. Some muscle existed under there, but it was buried deep.

“I put on weight sorta like… insulation,” the bull explained. “It just slides on. Coach says I have an insane metabolism to boot, but not like regular athletes. Most tend to pack on muscle or just burn it. I put on-”

“Fat.” Bradley blurted with laughter, unable to help himself. He wiggled his rump, jiggling the soft bull’s chest and gut. “Just so much wonderful fat.”

The fondness in his voice didn’t seem to surprise Cal in the least, confirming Bradley’s suspicions that the bull had been at least somewhat aware of his lingering interests. “I know,” the gluttonous beef slab said as he made grabby paws at the burger. “No how much longer you gonna torture a poor hungry cow? I burned off a tonne of calories during the game!”

Bradley rolled his eyes, but they shared a mutual excitement for the doughball to bulk up. Grabbing several burgers, the giraffe hovered them over Cal’s rotund maw and plopped them in. The bull tore through them with the same vigor as lunch, cheeks bulging briefly before the meal disappeared down his tire of a neck.

“Keep ‘em coming, man! I’m starving!”

The giraffe obliged, feeling Cal’s thick chest rolls expand and contract softly between his muscled thighs as he stuffed more food in this colossal beast’s maw. Cal wanted more food and Bradley wanted him softer. He was going to ensure they were both happy.

As Cal consumed the concession delicacies at an industrious pace, Bradley took the time to properly enjoy the bull’s figure. In between bites, he would venture a little further in exploring the tremendous globe of blubber supporting him, starting with the moobs. Those football-sized mounds stretched Cal’s jersey out wide, so that nary a wrinkle could be found. Each possessed the dimensions and gravity of a balloon filled with jello, hot and plush to the touch.

Bradley slipped one paw between the bull’s jersey and his chest to knead them around, teasing the sensitive flesh to the point where Cal spluttered and turned bright pink. “I’m trying to eat, yah know!” he protested halfheartedly, ruining the effect with a laugh.

“Well keep up!” the giraffe chided, rolling his paw up through the valley between the bull’s bloated pecs and rubbing Cal’s neck. The bull’s eyes glazed over for a moment as his pudgy throat was caressed, before mooing indignantly as Bradley dumped a super-sized hot dog in his slackened jaw.

Slowly the pair fell into a rhythm, with Bradley dumping increasingly larger loads of concession foods down his bovine’s throat and then softly rubbing or squeezing some aspect of the bull as they chomped through the load.

Each burger, hotdog, pizza slice, braided pretzel, plate of nachos, and basket of buffalo wings added imperceptible inches to the bovine’s waist. Given Cal’s already prodigious girth, it took a while to fill that cavernous void with food, but little by little Bradley felt that cow hide tighten and rise beneath him. Going from soft and highly yielding to rubbery and delightfully resilient.

To make matters even better, the added pressure seemed to make Cal even more sensitive. Bradley’s roaming paws found their way between chocolate-colored rolls that could be squished, squeezed, and tickled at his leisure. Every single foray was accompanied with a startled moo from the cow, which Bradley effectively shut up with more food. This colossus was finally his to indulge and he had no tolerance for interruptions.

Eventually the integrity of Cal’s jersey came into question. By this point he’d ballooned considerably, with a gut rising proudly into the air like a chunk of uprooted earth. His rump now formed a pair of globes so swollen his shorts were little more than a glorified g-string. His sides greeted the turf in a roll as thick around as Bradley’s waist, effortlessly supporting the towering giraffe.

Each additional bite proffered by the muscular giraffe was accompanied by a chorus of creaks and groans. The 50 inscribed on Cal’s blue uniform trembled alarmingly, straining to retain the abundance of flesh underneath. Bradley grinned with a sneaky pleasure as he peered down at his bloated behemoth.

The bulldozer had just finished a swirl of funnel cake, his muzzle coated in powdered sugar. He gazed up at Bradley expectantly, ready for the next treat. The giraffe dangled another juicy burger out as bait, completely unsuspected by Cal.

As the cow opened his maw to accept the offering, Bradley dug his fingers deep into the flab along Cal’s side, resulting in what sounded like a fan being turned up to full power. “AaaaaaAAAA-OOOF!”

BANG!

Cal’s sudden intake of air caused his chest to swell, stretching his jersey past its breaking point and bursting the clothing off over his jiggling chest. He mooed in alarm as the shredded cloth slapped his sides before spinning into the darkness. Bradley laughed loudly at the sight of a now very red bull glaring up at him in betrayal.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Cal grumbled, trying to rub his aching sides but finding his arms too thick and sides to broad with rolls.

“Ooooh shush,” the giraffe chided, tossing him the burger and flopping back across the apex of the bovine’s gut. “God damn you’re comfy.”

“Mmmph, I know right?” the bull said between bites.

No response came as Bradley slowly lost himself in the waves of the bull’s gut. He hadn’t realized just how large he’d stuffed his plush toy. Cal’s girth now almost exceeded the diameter of the Atlantian logo on the field and the logo measured nearly ten yards in width... Cal was a BIIIIG boy.

Looking down at what they had left, Bradley realized he’d just fed the bull the final burger. They’d emptied an entire concession stand into one very well-fed, very-swollen bovine. The sheer amount of gluttony overwhelmed the giraffe. How much weight, volume, girth, how much CAL that was.

Rolling over, Bradley began to knead the bull’s figure, groping soft love handles and pliant rolls. Cal only mooed gently in pleasure, shivering gelatinously whenever he hit a particularly sensitive spot. Then the giraffe slowly lowered his muzzle to the bull’s hide and gave it nibble.

That supple, warm flab rolled over his tongue, wonderfully tender to the touch. Cal’s moos grew a little more flustered, but he couldn’t do much. Dazed, Bradley softly kissed the bull’s curvature, teasing that thick sphere of chub the way he thought one should. His lengthy frame barely managed to cover half the blubbery cow, but he squeezed what he could reach with a passion.

Bradley slowly worked down along the behemoth’s gut in a series of nuzzles and kisses, indulging in that flab every inch of the way. He stopped briefly at the navel, teasing the deep crevice to the point where Cal broke into a series of wobbling giggles. His tongue circled the heavily stuffed flesh mercilessly, slipping between chubby love handles and exploiting the tenderness.

Then Bradley simply pushed his long snout into the voluminous layers as much as he could, moaning softly at how easily it engulfed him. This was what excess felt like; warm, soft, endless blubber so voluminous it rippled at the slightest touch. The giraffe rubbed and squished the bloated bovine to his heart’s content, making Cal grunt under the slender giraffe.

From there the giraffe ran his long neck along the upper sweep of Cal’s bloated figure, slipping down gradually, nuzzling the folds of the bull’s chest. His paws gave the bull’s moobs another idle squeeze as he ran his nose over the bovine’s swollen neck, thick chins, and ended nose to nose with Cal.

There the bull grinned at him, round-faced and adorable. He made to say something but the giraffe pressed his lips to Cal’s in a long, loving kiss, wrapping hiss arms around the bull’s monster-truck tire of a neck.

Cal gave another muted moo in the embrace, reaching up with his chubby arms to hug the giraffe’s long neck. They shared the moment passionately, snuggled together in the

middle of a tremendous stadium. After almost a minute Bradley finally broke apart, flustered and red.

“S-sorry if that was impulsive. You’re just so freaking…”

“Me?” Cal offered, jiggling his chest.

“Yeah!” Bradley exclaimed, resting his head in the crevice between Cal’s cheek and shoulder.

“Well you’re pretty damn wonderful yourself,” Cal sighed, looping an arm around the giraffe and resting back.

Bradley almost made an effort to deny it, but instead he simply nuzzled the heavily bloated bovine and snuggled against him more. “Thanks,” he said simply.

As the moon broke through the clouds above them, Bradley softly parted from his corpulent companion. When Cal looked at him questioningly, the giraffe only smiled. “There’s just one more thing I have to do.”

He planted another kiss on Cal’s nose and rounded the bull’s equator. Once he arrived at the other end, the giraffe got on his knees and placed his hooves on the now gigantic pair of cheeks straining under the bull’s shorts. Like Cal’s jersey they’d been pulled drum tight, stretched paper thin with small bulges of hot bull flab spilling through.

Covering his eyes with on paw, Bradley extended a finger and poked those shorts as lightly as he could. Immediately another harsh BANG! and a startled moo pierced the stadium air as the clothing tore free and Cal’s cheeks tumbled against the turf. Audible slaps echoed off the empty seats as the bull’s prominent overhang and rump wobbled about.

Over the vast curvature of the bull’s stomach, Bradley heard what sounded like “I swear to god if you do that again, beanpole!”

The giraffe laughed, rubbing those imposing spheres a bit more. They’d been his first indoctrination into the world of Cal after all. He kneaded them around, enjoying the sheer load of bull backing them. After a few moment’s teasing, Bradley climbed back to his feet and trailed a paw along Cal’s looming midriff as he came back to the front.

There Cal grinned impishly up at the giraffe, who slipped back onto his curved gut to get comfy. “What was that about?” the bovine asked as Bradley snuggled up to him.

“Oh nothing,” the giraffe replied, kissing the bull on the nose. “Just figured the moon could use a little company, fatass.”

“Oh good one,” Cal laughed, reaching up to kiss the giraffe’s neck.

Bradley gave a soft moan, pressing his lean figure as much as he could against his hot, heavy bovid. “I hope this doesn’t hurt your football career, you know. Getting so big and all.”

“Well when it comes to you,” Cal hummed, running his nose along the giraffe’s throat, “It’s not a question of being too big.”

Bradley shuddered again, his neck rippling under the bull’s tongue as he gripped Cal’s swollen sides. “I-It’s not?”

“Nope,” Cal smirked at how flustered he made the giraffe. “It’s about just how big you can make me.”

The South African found himself grinning wide, squeezing the bull’s frontage endlessly. “Oh man, you are ON!”