Dining in the Lylat System

Rat Trap (Part 1)

DINING IN THE LYLAT SYSTEM

Episode 7: RAT TRAP (PART 1)

Written by: TIM MINK-EAR

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"Feeder's log, starweight 278.59. We passed between Solar and Zoness on our way to a conference on Macbeth. We drifted through space without a care until we received a call for help."

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Fox and Krystal laid in their bed aboard the Great Fox. Krystal lay on her side. Splayed on the bed, her belly spread forward a foot and a half from her back. Her weight formed a dent in the bed which curved the mattress downwards towards her body. Fox happily shared the dent with her, and presently, he spooned her, pressing his front into her back. His elbow rest in a fold just above her waist, a crevice that outlined her monster truck spare tire. His fingertips reached the edge of her stomach. He gently brushed her warm belly up and down, and he revelled in its soft expanse. Further up her body, her stomach tapered off below two hefty breasts that lay heavily, one atop the other. Lower, her thick waist fanned out into voluminous hips, twice as wide as his. His own pelvis pressed into her ample butt, and his legs lay beside hers.

Her stomach growled.

"You awake, babe?" he asked.

"Yeah..." she mumbled. "Can you get me some breakfast?"

"Yes ma'am." He leapt out of bed and almost headed for the kitchen before he spotted a jar of purple fluid on their dresser. The expansion formula that Lucy Hare had gifted them after saving her at the university. They hadn't tried it yet, and this was the perfect lazy morning for it. He picked it up and turned to Krystal. "Why don't we make it interesting while we're at it?"

She smirked. "Okay, let's try it." Fox handed it to her, and she took a swig. This formula would have an elastic effect on her stomach. It would stretch and conform to any amount of food ingested.

Then, ROB's voice interrupted: "INCOMING DISTRESS SIGNAL."

Fox turned upward, as if speaking to something above him. "Put it on in here, ROB."

A patch of the wall opened up, revealing a screen. It showed the image of a female rat, huddled in a dark, dingy grey corner. Her arm reached offscreen, presumably holding the camera that recorded her. The view looked down on her. Her eyes were wet, and mascara ran down her cheeks past her whiskers. Two cutesy buck teeth poked out under her quivering front lip. She was clad in a skimpy hot pink tube top with boobs almost bubbling over. Below were washboard abs on a tiny waist, and she wore a leopard print miniskirt that barely covered her meaty thighs.

She spoke with a wavering voice. "If anyone is out there, please help me." She sniffled. "I'm trapped. I don't know how much time I have. My coordinates are attached to this video." She gasped, and the video cut off.

Fox looked on at the screen. "Obviously a scam," he said. These kinds of distress signals were common: helpless, sexy young lasses crying desperately for help, conveniently in some remote stretch of space. But she would just be an actor, and any ships would be ambushed upon reaching the coordinates. They'd rob everything they could and leave you for dead. Space pirates used the tactic because it worked.

"Right," Krystal said, lounging in bed.

"And that's why we're going," Fox said.

"What?" Krystal turned to Fox, not sure if it was a joke. She propped herself up on one elbow and rested her other arm on her pillowy paunch, pooled out on the bed before her.

"As a young fox, I was foolhardy enough to fall for amateur tricks like this. We need to step in before they make a victim of someone." He was serious.

"And as an older fox, you're foolhardy enough to step directly into a trap."