Dining in the Lylat System

Turgid Espionage Action (Part 1)

DINING IN THE LYLAT SYSTEM

Episode 3: TURGID ESPIONAGE ACTION (PART 1)

Written by: ARTHUR C. SNARK

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"Feeder's log, starweight 232.87. We were on our way to Corneria to get the Great Fox her annual checkup. She's my pride and joy, so I only trust her with one mechanic: Lucy Hare. She's got a doctorate in astrophysics, and she teaches at the University of Corneria. She loves spacecraft, and they love her. I'm grateful to have her as my mechanic."

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Aboard the Great Fox, Krystal sat up in bed, nude. Her stomach had blossomed with pudge. Her round, white-furred paunch covered a few inches of her lap. Her breasts had grown as well, and their fat flowed freely atop her soft belly, unconstrained. Beneath the small, modest rolls on her waist, her hips fanned out, cushioning her. She cradled a bag of chips in her lap. She plucked one out, brought it to her lips, and placed it in her mouth to be crunched between her teeth. A pillow of flesh hung underneath her mandible; it was not yet a double chin, but it contributed to her softening appearance nonetheless.

Krystal wore an earpiece. One end had a tiny speaker, which clipped gently onto her ear. From that, a thin strand of black plastic curved around her head down to her mouth. There, the other end held a microphone.

"Anyway--I could go on about Aquas all day. What have you been up to?" She stifled a burp.

On the other end was Lucy Hare. She was at the University of Corneria's gym, jogging on one of its treadmills. An earpiece with mic clung to her ear as well. As she exercised, the microphone bounced against her chubby cheeks.

Her fur was a pale pink, the shade of peonies. Yellow gym shorts clung to her behind; her hips were easily twice as wide as her upper back, and her butt filled out her backside, like two shuddering medicine balls dimpled with cellulite. Lucy's shorts managed to cover the top half of it, but the bottom squeezed out in an upside down muffin effect. Its cheeks bounced up and down alternately with each step. Her thighs were nearly as thick, and due to their meaty diameter, they rubbed against each other without ever parting during each step--there was no room in between them, even at the farthest reach of her stride. Still, she swung her fleshy gams with grace. Her footfalls were steps rather than stomps, even though each one sent a momentary ripple through her entire flabby body as she tapped against the treadmill. Her bushy cotton ball of a tail nestled between her butt's two globes of fat and her ample lovehandles.

Lucy responded, "I've been studying long-term travel into deep space." Her words were breathy while her lungs worked to provide oxygen to her blood. "A few professors from the biology department are leading it, but I convinced them to take me on board for my practical knowledge of space travel and theoretical knowledge of astrophysics."

"Long term?" Krystal asked between munches. "Like for years?"

"Longer than that," Lucy said.

Her loose gray top hung halfway down her torso. Her belly lent to her pear shape; its top half was certainly plump and well-fed, but its bottom roll almost spread as wide as her hips while it was tucked into her gym shorts. When her foot touched the treadmill, gravity would squash her bottom stomach roll downward against her thighs; when she bounced into the air, it would fly up to her hip's level. Her breasts were secured in a bra to stabilize them against gravity, but she could feel her sideboobs bouncing out of its hold. They glanced against her wobbling biceps. Her breasts had grown as much sideways as anything, giving her two folds on each side: one between her sideboob and waist, and one between her waist and hips. It was as if her waist was a handle, where you would dig a thumb into the crease below her sideboob and your other four digits into the crease above her waist. And if you shook it--well, it would look like Lucy did right now, jogging on the treadmill.