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Natasha held the flute in her forepaw. The toned coyote was back in her old home, a rustic wooden cottage. The construction was humble, merely a few rooms on one floor. She stood in a wooden hallway, and she had grabbed the flute from an empty closet.

This flute was a relic from her prior life. She had once been a mighty warrior with a vast array of talents. Her musical ability on this instrument was but one of them.

But she had given up her belligerent lifestyle to dote on her lover, Samantha the raven. Natasha fretted as she thought of her. The coyote had quested back to her home for this flute. She imagined playing it to woo Sam. But, in doing so, she had left Sam on her own--only guarded by Natasha's own minions. Natasha's gut twisted in knots, confused between the excitement of playing for Sam and the worry she felt for leaving Sam.

Natasha had no time to spare. She put one heel back, prepping her firm legs. She pushed her muscles and launched into a fierce gallop. Natasha possessed many supernatural abilities, including speed. With her raven weighing on her heart, she ran faster than ever before.

Over hill and through vale, across plains and under water, Natasha rushed to her new home. Her sprint defied light itself.

Natasha skid to a halt outside of her new house. Its brick facade gave it an older appearance, but it was very much modern. She opened the front door and stepped through.

Natasha walked with casual steps to the bedroom.

Inside was Samantha, safe and sound. The black-feathered raven sat in a pile of her own lard, unable to move from her spot. For one thing, her talons barely poked out from her calf fat; her cankles had swollen over her feet.

The three imps, Aurum, Cerulean, and Veridian, pressed their paws to her feet.

And aside from Sam's calves, her thighs were too heavy for her to lift. Their pudge swallowed the bed from side to side and then some. Her gut pinned her down as well, bigger than the mattress itself. Even her breasts weighed on her. Their big, pillowy shape suggested that they were light, but Natasha knew from experience how dense and heavy they were.

There were two things Sam could still move. First, her wings. Despite their blubbery span, she could still drag them over her tits and reach into a pizza box sitting on her chest. And second, there was her beak. She opened it, crammed in a slice of pizza, and inhaled it.

Natasha breathed a sigh of relief. The sight of her lover binging on pizza brought warmth to her heart. "Samantha!"

Sam responded casually through a full mouth. "Heyf bhabe." Her beak gushed with melty, greasy cheese.

Natasha held up her flute, giddy. "I've recovered my old flute! Allow me to play you a little something..."

Natasha put her lower lip to the mouthpiece confidently. She gathered air within her lungs and formed a tight, small hole with her lips. With a controlled press of her abs, she blew across the hole. She expected a light, sweet note. What she heard was an airy, off-tune scratch. Her ears twitched at the painful noise.

She took a deep breath. It had been three years since she haf picked it up. Maybe she was just out of practice.

She blew again. Out came a fuzzy tone. It sounded like the embouchure hole was too humid. She moved her lips to the left slowly, and the sound only became more hoarse. She drifted back right, and the noise continued. She couldn't find a way to blow cleanly across it.

Natasha paused with a sigh. "You know, before I met you, I would play this all the time. I was a master--it was one of my many talents."

Natasha saw the weak, semi-supportive smile on Sam's face. Between her chubby cheeks and girthy chin, her smile was forced. The raven knew Natasha was rusty.

Natasha tried to maintain her composure, since blowing too hard would only make it worse. She blew like before, tight and controlled. But her arms tensed, and her brow furrowed. She grew more and more frustrated with the flute. The more she tried to refine her airway, the more she detected a filmy, oily sensation along the walls of her mouth.

She saw Sam's cheeks redden. Her blubbery cheeks pursed back as she hid a growing grin. Her chin wobbled with stifled laughter.

Natasha's control lessened. Her thin, fast stream of air became wide and coarse. The flute's notes came out breathier. She could not wring one solitary note out of this flute! Something was wrong.

Natasha lowered the flute and scowled at her minions. "Fess up, Cerulean"

The blue imp looked up from Sam's foot. "What?";

Natasha shook the flute angrily. "You've been tampering with this, haven't you?!"

Sam spoke up. "Babe, it's not them... you're not going to be able to play that thing for a while." She let a sputtering chuckle through.

Natasha glowered at Sam. "Is something funny?"

"No, but... maybe you should fast for a day. Try some mouthwash, too..."

Natasha scowled. "What are you getting at?"

Sam hid her chuckles poorly. Her portly belly bobbed up and down, rippling from her mirth. "Hehe,... you've got too much raven love in your mouth."

That wiped the anger from Natasha's expression. Blankly, she looked to her flute. "Maybe..." Then, she looked to Sam.

The raven was so cute, happy and giggling. The way her belly jiggled was inviting, teasing even. Samantha's bed-bound flesh bounced from her laughter, showcasing just how thickly her adipose was layered. Her breasts hopped on her upper belly. Her stomach slapped against itself, with meaty rolls of fat tossing from giggles. And the whole mass rocked her legs, wiggling her rotund hips and shaking her tremendous thighs.

Natasha tossed aside the flute. "Oh, later. But first, I need more raven love...!"

Natasha tensed her legs once more. But this time, she launched herself right at Sam. The coyote flew into the tight, fat-packed seal between Sam's overflowing thighs. Natasha's back shouldered Sam's underbelly as she slid forward. Natasha hurdled with raw velocity, but the thick, dense lard of Sam's thighs absorbed her momentum and rippled heavily from the force. As a result, Sam's fat brought Natasha to a well-padded halt. Now deep under the raven's belly, Natasha found the object of her desire: a thick-lipped, well-lubricated slit.