Harvest season had come and gone with nary a trouble, with the landscape peacefully surrendering its yield to the changing of the seasons and the dropping of the temperature alike. The first trickling of Winter was beginning to make itself known, and as the natural gloom of the cold months approached it was only natural that some manner of festivities would begin to pop up to beat back against the ever-advancing melancholy. The fairground had stuck to this duty carefully, its bright lights and energetic music promising a merry wonderland to any passerby that was lucky enough to be out in the countryside that day. This promise wasn't all flash, mind you; a number of attractions, shops, and midway games were set out to ensure that just about anyone could find an excuse to blow a few bucks by the end of the day. This year, though, the public wasn't here for the carnival alone. While no one ever came out and said it, everyone could still tell all the same that the rest of the fair was but an appetizer to the main event that was to come.
 
 It was advertised as a collaboration with a company that normally only worked in the summer. "Holiday Hot Air Balloon Show", they called it. Dozens of colorful balloons were going to fill the sky that day, and the flyers promised they wouldn't leave until well after the sun went down. As morning progressed, the fairground was locked into a state of excited anticipation, watchful eyes dancing towards the skies in hopes that maybe one of the balloons might've risen early.
 
 Those hopes weren't going to be met (though you can't blame a fur for trying). The show was going to begin exactly when the flyers said: at noontime, and for good reason. Special tickets had gone on sale the week before, ones allowing their recipients the chance to view the upcoming parade from a VIP vantage point: from the comfort of one of the hot air balloon's own baskets. These tickets were currently coveted by any fan of large round things worth their salt, and as the morning turned to midday a line began to form outside a service tent, lucky furs lying in wait to redeem their prize.
 
 They'd have to wait just a tad longer; right now, the line was currently being held up by an unlucky folvle and an even unluckier sea slug dragon.

"Whaddya mean you won't accept the tickets?" cried out the folvle in question. Short, stout, and covered with lush crimson feathers, Nugget the folvle wasn't exactly imposing with his objections, although he certainly tried his hardest, his beaked snout tense with shock.

His opponent, a fellow folvle acting as a ticketmaster, wasn't impressed.

"I'm sorry, sir," the amethyst-feathered staff member retorted, "policy states that I can't take damaged tickets, and these..." she trailed off, holding up the offending items, "are very damaged tickets".

The passes were barely recognizable as such, the printed ink running far past readability on top of paper that was drenched to the point of barely holding together. A thick layer of slime tied the unappealing package together, dripping from the slips much like water off a wet fish. Regardless of how valid the tickets were once before, it was hard to argue that they were little more than nondescript garbage now.

Nugget wasn't going to accept that reality without a fight. "Okay, I know this doesn't look good," he stammered, "but come on, what else were they going to be used for? Last I checked, this carnival had free admission!"

"Again, I can't take tickets I can't read," reiterated the ticketmaster. "you're going to have to get new ones if you want a private ride. Now, if you will, can you and your friend please leave? You're both holding up the line."

Nugget took a look back towards his friend. Skidd neglected to make eye contact with him, the sea slug dragon wishing very hard that they were anywhere but there right now. The cerulean draconid's attempt to shy away was destined to fail: at 7'1", Skidd could do little to cover their presence (though they certainly succeeded at somehow looking even less imposing than Nugget). The slug's hands were clasped behind their back, flimsily masking the collecting layer of slime that was currently dripping down them.

"I just didn't realize how hard I was grasping onto them.." eeked Skidd, a contrasting blush emanating underneath deep cobalt features.

Nugget shut his eyes, thinking long and hard about what he remembered about keeping calm in stressful situations and also not getting into shouting matches with overworked staff members. After what seemed like an eternity he exhaled sharply and squeaked out a short 'Fine.' under his breath. *Can't really get new tickets when they're already sold out..* he muttered to himself as he led the two of them away from the ticket stand.

The walk back towards the midway was several times more awkward than the one from it. No longer bothering to mask his disappointment, Nugget trekked on with all the over-dramatic flair of an inmate on death's row, Skidd keeping their distance with a few stiff paces of their own.

"I'm really sorry, Nugget," they stuttered at last, breaking the uneasy silence. "This is all on me, I promise I’ll try and get you another pass-"

"Skidd.." groaned Nugget, now becoming the one refusing to make eye contact, "We can't *get* another pass to the hot air show, they've been out of stock for weeks." Skidd shuddered as they heard Nugget's voice, the folvle's anger clearly having since cooled down into quiet exasperation. "There's no way we're going on a hot air balloon ride today. I don't want to get mad, but... you had one job."

"...To take care of the tickets." Skidd sighed.

The slug dragon began to fidget with their jacket, trying to come up with an answer to the two's troubles that didn't involve tickets. The folvle wasn't going to wait for that.

"It's fine," grumbled Nugget, "I'm just going to go play some games, and try to still have fun with today". And with that, he turned away, walking back towards the rest of the carnival.

Skidd didn't follow. Instead, they watched the folvle make his way to the midway, his movements betrayed the feathered primate's true feelings, a noticeable slump characterizing what could only be undeniable disappointment. Disappointment with *them*. Dejectedly, Skidd began to fidget with their clothing once more, pulling at their turtleneck as their mind worked overtime to fix the mistake.

*How the hell am I going to make this up to Nugget?,* they thought. *Poor guy looks like I just told him Santa isn't real! I can't just let the little drumstick be miserable like this.. c'mon, Skidd, think!*

The mind-racking session was turning up zilch, unfortunately. Skidd's cloudy eyes darted around the fairground as he toiled, desperate for just about any lead they could find. Nothing but hastily set-up tents met his gaze. Sure, they probably held all sorts of fun attractions within, but could any of them compare to the majesty that was a private balloon ride? Surely not. Heck, Skidd wasn't even sure if that tent over there even had anybody in it-

The draconid paused. Wait, *was* anybody in that tent? Skidd drew their eyes closer to the surroundings of a stark white tent on the edge of the fairground. This enclosure was different from the others, the tarp large but otherwise flimsy enough to be downright utilitarian compared to the much more festive tents surrounding it. Sure enough, a dreary sign labelled 'MAINTENANCE' greeted Skidd as they approached the shelter. All sorts of unused materials could be lying in wait there, couldn't they? Standing at the entranceway, the sea slug only had one way to find out.

A few steps later and they were in, past the opening and deep inside the shaded tent. Temporary shelves housed all sorts of odds and ends, all for a varying degree of reasons ranging from brokenness to simple disuse. Fitting with the event outside, it seemed a good amount of equipment from the hot air balloon festival had slowly piled up in the building as the morning progressed; the perfect hoard for Skidd to pick from. A basket was quickly secured, found semi-hidden beneath its own tarp and quickly turned into a facsimile of a cart. From there Skidd assembled the materials that they needed for them to hatch their newfound plan, taking a mass of ropes and sandbags and placing it in a pile of his own. The operation was shaping up nicely; now all that was left was the balloon itself.

Suddenly the operation was shaping up much less nicely. The shelves weren't meant to be able to hold a piece of fabric that large, and as Skidd began their fifth scan of the room they'd realized that anything worth calling a hot air balloon was probably already being set up for the imminent noontime parade. Surely the plan wasn't going to fail before it even went into action?

No. Nugget was going to get that hot air balloon ride, one way or another! Determined, the slug dragon fixated his gaze on a discarded cart in a corner. They initially thought the broken machine was for serving popcorn, but somewhere around scan number 3, Skidd had figured out that they were staring at a cart meant to sell a different kind of balloon than the ones currently about to take off. Indeed, an obscured bag behind the carriage was full of cheap latex balloons, deflated but nonetheless perfectly sell-able. And if the balloons were here, then that meant...

Skidd quickly tore open the hatch of the cart, fishing a sticky mitt deep within its innards and pulling out a prize as if it were a claw machine. Bingo. The sea slug dragon grinned ear from ear as they held the cylindrical tank tight in their grasp. Once I pull this off, they thought, Nugget's gonna have the kind of spot in the festival that no ticket can buy!

---

The only spot Nugget really wanted at this point was no doubt far away from here. The folvle's mood had changed little in the time he had spent away from Skidd, with the small avian trying and failing to enjoy himself at the midway in a display that could best be described as "public moping". Sure, he was participating in the games surrounding him, but no amount of ring toss was going to fill the hot-air balloon-shaped void in his heart. The general mood of the fairground tanked in an area specific to Nugget as he made his way from stall to stall, slowly becoming as surly and out of it as one could really get without starting a fistfight. From afar, the carnies shuddered to think of what might happen if he made it to the dart toss.

Thankfully, it was well before that when a certain offending sea slug reintroduced themselves to the picture, Skidd trying their hardest to convince Nugget to follow them out back while Nugget tried his hardest to ignore the world around himself so that he could focus on a particularly pathetic game of skeeball. Poke all you want, Skidd, thought Nugget. You're going to have to try a lot harder than that if you want me to move.

Evidently, Skidd would try a lot harder than that. It was how Nugget suddenly found himself being carried out of the premises wholesale by Skidd (much to the delight of the carnies), a slimy arm keeping itself wrapped tightly around the folvle's waist, treating the fur much like a carry-on bag as the slug dragon making their way deep into the maze of carnival tents. Nugget shut his eyes and quietly mumbled to himself as the canopies they rushed past gradually gave way to the surrounding clearing. Even now, he wasn't going to let Skidd make it up to him without a fight.

Folvle met dirt as Skidd skidded to a stop, letting go of their cargo just a tad bit early in order to inspect the present one last time. Nugget, mumbling much more profusely, gradually found the energy to pick themselves off the floor, finally laying upright to gaze at the mystery present that had laid await for him.

The first glance wasn't exactly enticing; a large basket sat in the middle of the field, surrounded by a mix of ropes and sandbags and one very excited Skidd. The sea slug dragon was hurriedly getting themselves into position, seemingly draping themselves in the ropes like they were fitting themselves for a harness. Nugget rolled his eyes; he already wasn't in the mood for a apology, and the current view wasn't helping.

"Come onnnnnnnnnnnn, Skidd, let it go already, will ya?" heckled the folvle. "We're already missing the balloon festival, it's not like we can just enter it at this point!"

Skidd was quick to reply. "Ah, hear me out, Nuggy," they said with an adamant glare. "I think I have a good setup here..."

"Some setup," Nugget grumbled as he came closer to the basket. "All this effort and you couldn't even get a hot air... balloon..."

The words trailed out of Nugget's thud muzzle until coming to a silent thud. The folvle had come up to the rim of the basket, peering in casually and finding more than just the lower half of the sea slug dragon currently standing in it. A large silver helium tank, somewhat taller than Nugget himself and a fraction of the width was strewn on the woven floor, valve shut tight and ready to be opened. Sure, Skidd still didn't seem to actually possess a hot air balloon, but with this...

Nugget bit his beaked lip. Surely things weren't going in that direction, now, would they?

Nugget felt a hand on his back. For the second time in as many minutes he was unceremoniously dumped to the floor, splaying out on his back as the touch of natural willow cushioned his fall. Not that he would have registered the pain; the folvle was way too focused on the sea slug coyly staring down at him to care.

"Skidd..." whimpered Nugget, his crimson feathers turning a shade redder still as a blush began to form underneath. "You're not actually going to-"

"Blow up?" said Skidd, clearly humored. They chuckled at the notion as they began to unfurl a wiry rubber hose from the helium tank. "Well, you already said it yourself: I can't have a proper hot air balloon without something to fly it with."

Skidd's quickly brought their paws up to the free end of the hosing, coating it with slick, glistening ooze. Properly lubricated, the hose was brought down, behind Skidd’s back, right below their extravagant tail and-

**SHLIKK**

The slightest of moans escaped Skidd as the hose worked its way down their shorts and up their bum, a considerable length of hosing sliding through their walls until it was clear there was no way all of it was coming out on their own. With yet another rope trailing out and around the sea slug, Nugget came to another realization: the ropes that Skidd had tied around their body didn't just look like a harness, but really *was* supposed to be one.

"I thought really long and hard about it, trying to think where I'd be able to find a good substitute for a balloon."

Warm blush washed over Skidd as they sat the air tank upright, the minute shifting of the hose amplifying its touch inside them as the last of the pre-flight tests came and went.

"So really, when you think about it, the best way for me to make it up to you," said Skidd with a harsh crank of the helium valve, "was to become a hot-air balloon for you!"

 A low hiss rang out from the air tank as its contents began to flow forth. Several seconds passed in inert silence, the two breathless as Skidd began to fill, until finally their growth became visible. Skidd's chubby cerulean tummy began to press outwards, their rubbery flesh squeaking like latex as they bloated. From his position on the floor, Nugget cowered, watching in awe as the blue sphere rose out from underneath the slug dragon's turtleneck, a pale blue sphere that looked as if it was the winter sky itself, coming down to earth to envelope the folvle. Skidd's newfound gut was poised to do just that; cold helium had already distended their organ past the size of a balance ball, and a warm breathy sigh from the sea slug indicated that they had no signs of stopping.

"Gee... Skidd..." stuttered Nugget. "Don't you t-think this is a bit m- EEK!"

Nugget didn't get a chance to finish processing his thoughts. Skidd closed the folvle's mouth for him, leaning forwards and letting their yoga ball gut gently squish the avian underneath.

"A bit much?" questioned Skidd, pausing to unbutton their shorts, letting their enormous belly fill out even further, "If I can't become a giant balloon for a friend in need, then what kind of friend am I?"

The sensation of little paws underneath the sea slug answered the question for them. Nugget's worries evaporated as he began to truely *feel* the lovely taut skin that was wrapping itself so sweetly around him, pushing into it with his limbs, groping every inch he could. Skidd shivered as they felt several wet pokes on their tummy; Nugget couldn't resist himself from outright kissing their belly, it seemed.

There's my cue, thought Skidd, getting comfortable atop their beanbag belly. The dragon reached over himself to the helium tank, now wedged between gut and basket as it continued to dutifully drain itself into its living container. With another strong crank, the tank was on full blast, pouring helium by the gallon into Skidd with all the force of a leaf blower. Skidd took a sec to steady themselves as they inflated even faster, their stomach filling the rest of the basket like batter poured into a cupcake mold. With no room rest to grow into, the overfilled sea slug rose up and out of its container, forming a lovely azure muffin top capped with an ever-chubbening slug dragon decoration on top.

Nugget was barely aware of all this, too struck by the overwhelming bliss of the big balloon covering him to care. The sheer pressure on top of him cloaked him like a weighted blanket, his every movement growing sluggish as the effort required to struggle against the ocean of belly he was trapped under became too much to fathom. Not that the folvle cared; his compression was equal parts relaxing and comforting, and Nugget never wanted this full-body hug to end.

But the hug did end. The pressure enveloping Nugget began to stall, then decrease until Nugget was barely touching upon the flesh at all. Cracks of noon sunlight began to enter Nugget's vision, Skidd's removing themselves much more gradually than they had been applied. The folvle was momentarily confused as to why Skidd had stopped, only to open his eyes and realize that Skidd was, in fact, still rising. Floating, even.

The slug dragon was well past overpumped at this point, their limbs bloating up into more sausage-like shapes while their chest and back evened out into round curves to match their stomach. Nugget couldn't see the dragon's face from here, but he had no doubt that Skidd's face was probably several times puffier than when he saw it last. All of that growth combined made the sea slug more spherical than some of the hot air balloons Nugget had seen that morning, and now that said sea slug was taking off...

A jerking motion shook the basket, causing Nugget to thank his lucky stars that he was already laying spread on the willow floor. The ropes attached to Skidd had rose alongside them, and now that those restraints were out of slack to give, the growing balloon dragon was going to end up taking everything with them. The basket rose into the air with a start, rising gradually, a few feet for each inch of diameter that the Skidd balloon gained. The climb smoothed out, and as Nugget got his footing he peeked over the sides of the basket to see the tops of the carnival tents slowly sinking out of view. They were gaining altitude, perhaps too fast. Nugget quickly got his paws on the helium tank, cutting the valve's flow just quick enough to prevent the two from sailing too far into the stratosphere.

It must've been just enough gas; as Nugget watched the fairground below shrink down further he could feel the balloon's climb begin to slow. In the distance the folvle could see more colored spheres rising from across the carnival: the hot air balloon festival had begun, and from the open air there were few words to describe the proceeds beyond grand. Nugget felt a pang of guilt rumble through him as he looked up at his own hot air balloon. He wouldn't be here if it weren’t for the charitable actions of a certain sea slug, now would he? Calling out upwards, Nugget attempted to make things right:

"Skidd!" he yelled, "I can't believe what you've done for me! Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"Aw shucks, Nugget," came a high-pitched, lethargic response from up above. "I knew you'd come around."

Nugget blushed as he buried his face in his paws. This wasn't going to be easy.

"Yeah, it's just..." the folvle stumbled as he chose his words. "I'm really, really sorry for how I acted today. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you, just let me know and i'll do it!"

"Well....." Skidd squeaked. "I'm sure there's a lot of helium left in that tank..."

"And?"

"And I think I might like to go on a personal flight of my own later today."

Nugget chuckled as he parsed the possibilities dripping from Skidd's request. "You got it, Skidd. I bet i'll be able to soar even higher than you tonight!"

The two friends had a good laugh over his boast, and from there they drifted in the air together, high above the world in the pristine winter breeze.