"Grah! No! No! NOOO!" Max, the blue kobold, yelled in frustration. "You weren't supposed to blow up! NO!"
Max looked down at himself, seeing a pink, sticky mess covering his entire body, including his clothes. the potion was meant to be a cleaning agent, something simple. Pour it on clothes and it will clean them up without need of water. Irony, however, seemed to not be on his side today.
"Aaaah, no kidding, Max!" The werewolf remarked in disgust. Max looked up to see the werewolf, though not covered in as much goop as Max, still had large pink stains all over his clothes. "Didja add in too much lavender? I told ya that adding it as a fragrance involving this charcoal mixture would cause an explosion!"
Max tried wiping the goop off of his arms. He was thankful it came off without staining him, but he knew his clothes would take a little more effort... and washing. "Shut up, Sarge." Max spoke bitterly.
The werewolf's eyes widened and he stopped examining his clothes. "Max, I... I didn't mean to offen-"
"Just leave me alone, okay?" Max had just about had it. One failed potion after another was all he could manage today, and now a simple potion recipe was botched up by him. Gritting his teeth, Max began to sob. "I've done nothing but fail all day, okay? I almost got you killed with that fever reduction medicine you requested, Almost blew up myself with a drop of basalisk venom in the wrong vial... and now THIS?" Max gestured to his clothes. "I can't keep doing this! All I'm doing is messing up!"
"Isn't that what being an alchemist is about?" Sarge asked, lowering his posture in a defeated manner. "We do the experiments to make the world better."
"But not when we already know the outcome of stupid things!" Max turned on his heals, storming out of the room. "I'm just stupid for endangering you needlessly! I'm leaving!"
The werewolf blinked, seeming confused. "But... this is your house?" He hurried after Max, hobbling the best he could with sticky pink stuff all over him. "Also, may I use your bath? If this stuff dries out, it will take me weeks to get it out of my fur!"
Max felt mortified at his own remark. In his rage, he'd forgotten that he wasn't at Sarge's house, but his own. The two had been working together a lot more than usual, sometimes late into the night. With how unsafe roads were at this time, it was best that they rested at the house they were at instead of travelling home.
Biting his tongue, Max held his breath. "You know where to bathe.... The tub for you is already up there."
Sarge nodded, leaving Max alone in his living room. Max stared at the fireplace in front of him, wiping a stressed tear from his eye. He was probably just having a bad day, but he certainly couldn't get himself to accept that he made such terrible mistakes.
Sighing, Max walked to the washroom downstairs. He filled up a bucket of water and started wiping down his skin and clothes the best he could. It took him several minutes of washing before he had removed all the goo from his body, leaving only small flecks and stains on his clothes.
Max went ot the closet, opening it up. He pulled out a large wash basin and filled it up with water. Grabbing a flask from his side, he opened up the top and dropped a single drop of its blue liquid into the basin. Within a single minute, the water started to steam. Max quickly doffed his belts and then his clothes, dropping the latter into the tub.
"Water solluble, at least," He grimaced, rubbing one of his elbows as he saw the pink-stained fabric sink into the water below. With the clothes soaking, he could now sit in his armchair and calm himself down.
An hour passed before Max could hear heavy footsteps from upstairs. The floorboards creaked as the fat werewolf walked down the stairs, his messy clothes in hand. "I figured you already set out a tub for cleaning clothes... so I just got mine presoaked." He tilted his head to the side. "I hope that's okay."
"It's fine." Max spoke with a similarly bitter tone to the one he had earlier. "Sorry, I don't have a change of clothes for your fat belly...." He wanted to say that as a joke, partly to cheer himself up, and to let Sarge know he was alright, but his words came out with an unexpected venom.
"Uh... sorry." The werewolf seemed confused as he walked past Max to the washroom. He came back a few moments later, now empty-handed. "Max, I think you're tired."
"I'm just bad at alchemy." Max stated, rubbing one of his temples. "I'm not tired."
"Then what was that hateful remark for?" Sarge sat on the floor -- most of the armchairs in this house were too small for him to sit in. "I get you were trying to make a joke, but it seemed more mean-spirited than usual."
"Can't do alchemy, can't make proper jokes." Max put his head in his hands. "I'm messing up so much, Sarge.... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
"You didn't." Sarge sighed. "I get like that, too. It's mostly when I'm hungry, of course, but..." the werewolf patted his belly, laying down on the ground, "it's obvious as to why."
Max perked up. "I didn't mean to offend you, though! I'm sorry about that, too.... I know how much you love your belly." He saw the mound of cream and brown fur. Having recently been washed and dried, the fur was fluffing up like a tantalizing bed. With Sarge's mention of Max's fatigue, Max began to realize he truly was tired.
Sarge closed his eyes. "You didn't, Max. 'Fat belly' isn't exactly an insult. It's just how I am." He began to rub his belly slowly. "And you are you, a talented alchemist who's currently tired and needing to sleep."
"Uh... yeah." Max looked away, lowering his shoulders and head, now realizing what he said earlier was a false statement made out of frustration.
"It's night time, y'know. Saw it from the window. I'm getting a bit," Sarge yawned, "tired myself." The werewolf began to nod off.
Max wanted to continue conversing, but he didn't want to wake the werewolf. He didn't want to be alone either, now was not a time for isolation.
Looking back over at the werewolf, he saw the belly fluff, gently lifting up and down with the rhythm of the werewolf's breathing.
Max bit his tongue as he lowered himself from the armchair. He reached his arms up and grasped onto the werewolf's round belly. He hoisted himself onto the softness, feeling the fur press around him, encompassing him in a warm nest of fur. Giving a yawn, he curled up and fell asleep, feeling that strange bit of safety that came with resting on such a fat, friendly werewolf.
~~~~~
Random gift for nyhgault We were talking about it and agreed he'd use a fatwoof belly as a bed. <3
~~~~~
Max © nyhgault
Sgt. Wolf/Art © pikminpedia Me
Max looked down at himself, seeing a pink, sticky mess covering his entire body, including his clothes. the potion was meant to be a cleaning agent, something simple. Pour it on clothes and it will clean them up without need of water. Irony, however, seemed to not be on his side today.
"Aaaah, no kidding, Max!" The werewolf remarked in disgust. Max looked up to see the werewolf, though not covered in as much goop as Max, still had large pink stains all over his clothes. "Didja add in too much lavender? I told ya that adding it as a fragrance involving this charcoal mixture would cause an explosion!"
Max tried wiping the goop off of his arms. He was thankful it came off without staining him, but he knew his clothes would take a little more effort... and washing. "Shut up, Sarge." Max spoke bitterly.
The werewolf's eyes widened and he stopped examining his clothes. "Max, I... I didn't mean to offen-"
"Just leave me alone, okay?" Max had just about had it. One failed potion after another was all he could manage today, and now a simple potion recipe was botched up by him. Gritting his teeth, Max began to sob. "I've done nothing but fail all day, okay? I almost got you killed with that fever reduction medicine you requested, Almost blew up myself with a drop of basalisk venom in the wrong vial... and now THIS?" Max gestured to his clothes. "I can't keep doing this! All I'm doing is messing up!"
"Isn't that what being an alchemist is about?" Sarge asked, lowering his posture in a defeated manner. "We do the experiments to make the world better."
"But not when we already know the outcome of stupid things!" Max turned on his heals, storming out of the room. "I'm just stupid for endangering you needlessly! I'm leaving!"
The werewolf blinked, seeming confused. "But... this is your house?" He hurried after Max, hobbling the best he could with sticky pink stuff all over him. "Also, may I use your bath? If this stuff dries out, it will take me weeks to get it out of my fur!"
Max felt mortified at his own remark. In his rage, he'd forgotten that he wasn't at Sarge's house, but his own. The two had been working together a lot more than usual, sometimes late into the night. With how unsafe roads were at this time, it was best that they rested at the house they were at instead of travelling home.
Biting his tongue, Max held his breath. "You know where to bathe.... The tub for you is already up there."
Sarge nodded, leaving Max alone in his living room. Max stared at the fireplace in front of him, wiping a stressed tear from his eye. He was probably just having a bad day, but he certainly couldn't get himself to accept that he made such terrible mistakes.
Sighing, Max walked to the washroom downstairs. He filled up a bucket of water and started wiping down his skin and clothes the best he could. It took him several minutes of washing before he had removed all the goo from his body, leaving only small flecks and stains on his clothes.
Max went ot the closet, opening it up. He pulled out a large wash basin and filled it up with water. Grabbing a flask from his side, he opened up the top and dropped a single drop of its blue liquid into the basin. Within a single minute, the water started to steam. Max quickly doffed his belts and then his clothes, dropping the latter into the tub.
"Water solluble, at least," He grimaced, rubbing one of his elbows as he saw the pink-stained fabric sink into the water below. With the clothes soaking, he could now sit in his armchair and calm himself down.
An hour passed before Max could hear heavy footsteps from upstairs. The floorboards creaked as the fat werewolf walked down the stairs, his messy clothes in hand. "I figured you already set out a tub for cleaning clothes... so I just got mine presoaked." He tilted his head to the side. "I hope that's okay."
"It's fine." Max spoke with a similarly bitter tone to the one he had earlier. "Sorry, I don't have a change of clothes for your fat belly...." He wanted to say that as a joke, partly to cheer himself up, and to let Sarge know he was alright, but his words came out with an unexpected venom.
"Uh... sorry." The werewolf seemed confused as he walked past Max to the washroom. He came back a few moments later, now empty-handed. "Max, I think you're tired."
"I'm just bad at alchemy." Max stated, rubbing one of his temples. "I'm not tired."
"Then what was that hateful remark for?" Sarge sat on the floor -- most of the armchairs in this house were too small for him to sit in. "I get you were trying to make a joke, but it seemed more mean-spirited than usual."
"Can't do alchemy, can't make proper jokes." Max put his head in his hands. "I'm messing up so much, Sarge.... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
"You didn't." Sarge sighed. "I get like that, too. It's mostly when I'm hungry, of course, but..." the werewolf patted his belly, laying down on the ground, "it's obvious as to why."
Max perked up. "I didn't mean to offend you, though! I'm sorry about that, too.... I know how much you love your belly." He saw the mound of cream and brown fur. Having recently been washed and dried, the fur was fluffing up like a tantalizing bed. With Sarge's mention of Max's fatigue, Max began to realize he truly was tired.
Sarge closed his eyes. "You didn't, Max. 'Fat belly' isn't exactly an insult. It's just how I am." He began to rub his belly slowly. "And you are you, a talented alchemist who's currently tired and needing to sleep."
"Uh... yeah." Max looked away, lowering his shoulders and head, now realizing what he said earlier was a false statement made out of frustration.
"It's night time, y'know. Saw it from the window. I'm getting a bit," Sarge yawned, "tired myself." The werewolf began to nod off.
Max wanted to continue conversing, but he didn't want to wake the werewolf. He didn't want to be alone either, now was not a time for isolation.
Looking back over at the werewolf, he saw the belly fluff, gently lifting up and down with the rhythm of the werewolf's breathing.
Max bit his tongue as he lowered himself from the armchair. He reached his arms up and grasped onto the werewolf's round belly. He hoisted himself onto the softness, feeling the fur press around him, encompassing him in a warm nest of fur. Giving a yawn, he curled up and fell asleep, feeling that strange bit of safety that came with resting on such a fat, friendly werewolf.
~~~~~
Random gift for nyhgault We were talking about it and agreed he'd use a fatwoof belly as a bed. <3
~~~~~
Max © nyhgault
Sgt. Wolf/Art © pikminpedia Me
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fat Furs
Species Wolf
Gender Male
Size 1280 x 998px
Hope so. Maybe Sarge would open his eyes a crack and say, “I knew he was tired, ain’t that sweet.”
Yeah, they're a lot of fun! I just need more ideas for them.
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