chapter 4

And her face is the first thing I see when I wake again. I am laying in a soft, familiar bed; my own in the sìthein. She does not smile, but I know her well. I can see she is pleased.

"You will be well," she says, laying a cool hand on my forehead.

Memory comes flooding back to me, as well as a dull ache in my shoulder. I struggle to sit up.

"Is he alright?" I demand.

She stares at me.

"Perhaps you should not have poured quite so much of your life essence into him," she says. "But yes. He is here."

I shakily swing my legs out of bed and walk with her to the chamber opposite. I can feel him though the bond now. I can, now that I have leisure, feel everything.

His name is Malcolm. He's been divorced for 3 years now. Loves fishing, mystery novels and comfort eating. I know him, and stranger yet, he knows me.

"Hello, Maddie," he says as I approach, and I stop in shock.

Malcolm is fat. Not just as chubby as when I met him a few short hours ago, but massively, hugely fat. The folds of his belly hide his genitals. His man breasts are nearly as big as mine. He is soft everywhere, soft thighs, soft arms, soft arse. And he is mine. Bonded.

My foster mother withdraws before I pull off my shift and climb into bed with him.

"Hello, Malcolm," I say, gently cupping his round, fat face and bending to kiss him. His lips are soft, too, and so tender. I can feel everything he is feeling: arousal, surprise, an utter rightness. This is where he belongs.

I explore his huge body, playing with his belly rolls and pressing my slender self against him. I kiss and rub and tease every crevice until we are both panting with desire. Finally I lift his belly, so heavy and fat I need a titch of magic to keep it out of the way while I climb onto his cock.

He slides into my hot wetness and we both moan. We almost died today, but we didn't, and instead there is this.

Pleasure flows between us as we roll into orgasm together, and shake in shared climax. I feel all my strength rush back to me, my store of magic refilled.

"Wow," says Malcom, his flabby chest heaving. "Can we do that again?"

"Yes," I say, and I kiss him. We can. We will. He is mine and I am his.