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DINING IN THE LYLAT SYSTEM

Pilot episode: COLD COMFORT

Written by: GENE ROTTENBEAR E.

* * * * *

Fox stood at a window on the Great Fox, looking out on the field of stars in the vastness of space. In his hand, he gripped a small metal device between his thumb and index finger. "Feeder's log, starweight 180.92. I used to lead a band of bounty hunters, but in the ensuing peace after the Lylat Wars, we disbanded. I met my mate, Krystal. She came to work as a foreign officer for Corneria, and with exceptional talent, she has become Chief of Diplomacy. I still take the odd bounty here or there to keep myself busy. We roam the Lylat system aboard the Great Fox, doing good work in the name of Corneria.

"This morning, I received a call from an old teammate. I didn't realize it then, but I would soon be grateful for it..."

* * * * *

In the communications room aboard the Great Fox, the irritating chime of BLART BLART indicated an incoming video call. A square video display a meter wide simply read in red, "INCOMING CALL". Placed before its control panel was a large gray swivel chair. Fox McCloud, clad in a casual plaid shirt and jeans, leapt into the chair and gripped the control panel to keep the chair from spinning.

"Who is it, ROB?" He said.

A low, hollow voice boomed from the control panel: "SLIPPY TOAD."

Fox sighed. "Guess I better take it. Patch him through."

The screen flashed white for an instant before Slippy's face appeared. A wide smile stretched the entire width of his face beneath his protruding eyes. "How ya doin, Fox?" he chirped. He seemed to be calling from a kitchen. There was a window behind him, through which Fox could see the fine Cornerian sun and blue sky.

Fox replied, "Oh, I'm alright. How are things on your end?"

"Great! I actually called because I wanted to share my latest masterpiece!" Slippy got up from his chair and reached above the display, turning it to the right. The first thing Fox saw was an oven next to Slippy. "I call it the Culinary Transmutation Device!"

The next thing he saw was Amanda, Slippy's beloved pink frog, sitting at a table beside the oven. She didn't realize she was on screen. Her eyes were focused on a three-foot sub, which she munched with a contented look on her face. Her gut bunched up in her lap and pressed into the table, and a pooch of off-white stomach peaked out from under her shirt.

"Did you hear me, Fox?" Slippy asked.

Fox turned his eyes back to Slippy. "Sorry--just some interference. What did you call it?"

"A Culinary Transmutation Device. Now, I know what you're thinking. 'Slippy, did you just call me to say you invented the oven?' But no! This machine is far more fantastic than you could ever imagine. Want to guess what it does?"

Fox breathed deeply, gathering his patience. Slippy was a good friend, even if his voice resembled nails on chalkboard. "Does it bake food?" Fox asked.

"More than that!" Slippy exclaimed. He went on to explain. But Amanda pulled her overlong sandwich into her maw. Her flabby biceps pressed together her modest breasts, exaggerating their cleavage. She leaned forward towards the sandwich and took a large, lavish bite; not rushing her food down her gullet, but stuffing her cheeks nontheless. They puffed outward while she chewed slowly, luxuriously, with her eyes closed. Below, her upper belly spilled over the top of the table, and her lower belly squished under, giving the impression that her stomach itself was a mouth that would eat the kitchen table. Finally, she swallowed in one huge gulp. She sat back, licked her lips, and rubbed her big belly.

"Isn't that amazing?" Slippy said.

Fox stammered, realizing he missed the important part of what Slippy said. "I, well, yep! It is!"

Meanwhile, Krystal walked down the hallway towards the com room. She tugged at her sleek black pants, which couldn't quite make it up to the top of her bubble butt. As she walked, each cheek bounced in its constrained waistband. Her hips didn't help her pants either, having grown wider than her shoulders. Finally, her soft, jiggling thighs brushed against each other on her way.

In the years since she had left Sauria, her role on Corneria had fulfilled all her needs and desires. In foreign relations, she truly made a difference in people's lives. Her salary also let her indulge in simple things, like chips or bacon or double fried cheese melts, whenever she felt the slightest desire.

She arrived at the door to the com room and leaned in. "Hey Slippy! Whatcha up to?" she asked playfully.

Fox looked over his shoulder and spotted Krystal. Although her spare tire was still a slender layer of fat, it already filled out her blouse. She also left the top couple of buttons open, just so she could breathe without her breasts pressing against her shirt. Her shirt framed them perfectly: two plump, fatty globes.

Slippy replied, "Hi Krystal! I was just telling Fox about my latest gizmo! Go on Fox, tell 'er what it does!"

Fox turned back to the screen. He left his mouth open for a split second as he thought. "I think you would do it better, Slip."

Slippy replied, "I'll do ya one better. Why don't I demonstrate it?" He reached offscreen and picked up a box about the size of his head. He reached inside and pulled out a dark fuzz that looked like laundry lint. "See this stuff? Not exactly appetizing, right?"

"Yyeah," Fox said.

Slippy continued. "THIS is just the raw material. I put it in here," and he leaned over to slap the oven-thing, "and out pops any food I want. Name something!"

Krystal said, "I could really go for some pizza," then licked her lips.

"Space pizza it is!" Slippy shouted. He tapped a button on the oven's top, and it projected a holographic display into the air. Slippy tapped the display a few times, and the oven responded with a few boops. He opened the oven, slid in a pizza tray, and closed it. The hologram retreated, and a few seconds later, it dinged like a bell. Slippy slipped on an oven mitt, opened the door, and voila: he pulled out a piping hot pizza pie. You could still see the steam rising off of it, and its cheese was browned just the slightest bit.

"So, it bakes food?" Fox asked.

"Not just that! It will make any food you want. You just need packs of the raw material, which is non-perishable. They're good forever! This will change the way we dine in the Lylat System!"

Fox sat back. "That actually sounds kind of cool," he admitted.

"Does that mean I can count on you as an investor?" Slippy said. "We have the technology. But we need startup capital."

And that was the catch. Slippy was calling because he needed something. Fox considered the best way to put it. "I'm not really sure we can help you in that way," Fox said.

Slippy's face drooped instantly. "Oh. Well, you'll think about it, right?"

Krystal's face lit up. "Fox, we could really use this. The people on Fichina work so hard for sustenance. And we haven't been able to nail down friendly relations with them yet. This could help us reach them."

"A commission from the Cornerian government?" Slippy's face brightened again. "I hadn't even thought of that! Do you really think you could pull that off?"

Krystal nodded, sending a jiggle through her breasts. "Yeah, I have to clear it with President Lombardi, but I'm sure he'd see how amazing this technology is and how it could help."

"Gee whiz! You'll have to come by to pick one up, when will you be in town?"

As Krystal and Slippy made arrangements, Amanda wrapped her long frog tongue around the rest of her sub. Fox gazed in amazement while she reeled her tongue in slowly, gulping down the sandwich bit by bit, never choking or stopping. With both hands free, she leaned back and placed them on her belly. She hiked up her shirt and rubbed her stomach up and down. To cover its size, she rubbed in wide circles. Her tongue slowly pulled the sandwich inside, and Fox watched her neck bulge as the sandwich passed through on its way to her swelling stomach. She slurped up the last of the sandwich and hiccuped, sending ripples through her whole body: her doughy double chin, nestled over her neck; her arms, their fat spread out against her body; her tits, small but pressed upward by her stomach; and her stomach itself, a rotund ball of fat. She let out a satisfied sigh and spread her legs to give her stomach room.

Krystal said, "Sounds great, we'll see you then! Bye bye!" And the call ended.

In time, they swung back around Corneria to pick up Slippy's machine. They came to call the Culinary Transmutation Device the C-Tran for short. The Cornerian Government gave its approval to share the device with the natives of Fichina. Or rather, to attempt sharing it.

Relations between Corneria and Fichina were icy ever since the Lylat Wars. Fichina had no stake in Andross' war. However, Corneria saw an advantage in constructing a military outpost on the planet. This did not endear Fichina's people to Corneria.

The Great Fox approached Fichina. Snow and ice blanketed so much of its surface that it was visibly white from outside of its atmosphere.

In the Great Fox's sleeping quarters, Fox held a long, thin, dark garment in his hand. He stepped in one foot at a time, filling out the legs. He pushed his tail uncomfortably into an appendage at the back. Then he pulled his arms in, and finally he zippered up from the crotch to the chin. This was a heating suit. It was made of two hyperthin layers. The outer one sealed in heat and deflected cold. The inner layer concealed nichrome wire and sensors. The sensors monitored the wearer's body temperature. If the body needed heat, it sent electrical current through the wires; this would generate resistance, heating the wires, and as a result, the wearer.

"Are we trying to negotiate for their fuel?" he asked Krystal. Cornerian surveyors had detected handsome stores of oil on Fichina... just below its capital.

Krystal had stepped into her own heating suit. She tugged it upward, past her plumpened calves and thighs, trying to force her plush butt inside. She jumped a few times, creating just enough force to slide it up (and enough to display a hefty bounce in her chest). Her well-groomed tail was next, going inside the tail sleeve out the suit's back.

"I am," Krystal said. "You don't need to go."

Next, she reached for the zipper. She pulled it up, and it met her softened abdomen, biting into its fur. She winced and tugged it back down. After sucking in her stomach, she yanked the zipper up to her breasts. She breathed out, and the suit felt tight around her waist. In the mirror, she could make out every contour of fat in her midsection, even the indent of her belly button. She should have gotten measured for a new heating suit while on Corneria.

"No can do," Fox said. "I promise not to say anything, but I need to be there in case there's any funny business."

The zipper itself hugged her chest, but each side of the suit had enough let to hold each boob. Or, it used to. As she slowly zippered up the middle of her chest, she pressed her hand down on one breast, then the next, cramming each further into the suit, packing it down.

"I can defend myself. And you would be mad, too, if Fichina was trying to rip up the capital of Corneria." She felt stuffed into her suit like a sausage.

The Great Fox landed in a snowy field amidst a windy snowstorm. Corneria's Chief of Diplomacy didn't have permission to land within the Fichina capital limits, so they were a quarter of a mile out. Krystal and Fox stood in the landing bay, and each pulled their suit's hood over their head and face. A hard, clear plastic around the eyes afforded them vision. The bay door opened, and they stepped outside, buffetted by wind but undisturbed by the cold. Fox gripped the handle for a hover-crate behind him, pulling along the C-Tran in a protective box.

After a snowy trudge, they made their way into a nondescript office building: sparsely decorated but well-heated. They took off their hoods. A hare in the lobby spoke with Krystal and pointed them to the right office. They were on the way to an appointment with Madam Grizzle, minister of foreign affairs on Fichina.

Their elevator ride ended on the top floor. It opened up into an office. Not much was going on; a leopard and a moose poured over a map against the wall next to a hallway, and an ermine sat sleepy-eyed at a desk with a phone. The windows offered a perfect view over Fichina's barren expanses: a white, blurry nothingness.

Before Krystal could grab the ermine's attention, a bear stepped out of the hallway.

She was broad and wore drab green flannel with a long, black skirt over her deep brown fur. She stood a full head taller than Krystal and Fox. Her shoulders ran a wide span and had no sign of slouching. Beneath, her tubby, gelatinous gut filled out her shirt and skirt, and her breasts lay wide and flat atop it. Her hips were slight, but thighs thickened with fat supported her, giving her a solid stance. Cankles rested above her flat-heeled shoes planted firmly on the floor.

She spoke. "Greetings, Miss McCloud. This is...?" She turned to Fox.

"My mate," Krystal said. "His name's Fox."

Fox reached out a hand. "My pleasure," he said.

Grizzle extended her own paw and gripped his, stopping short of cracking its bones. "I'm sure," she said. She was a woman of few words, but when she did speak, her lower jaw pressed against a thick slab of double chin. Her jaw squished and stretched her double chin underneath, almost like kneading dough. "Shall we get down to business?"

Shortly, they were in Madam Grizzle's office. She sat behind a desk, and her midsection flowed over her chair's armrests like a muffin top. Krystal sat in a chair to the side, and Fox unpacked the C-Tran next to it.

Grizzle looked at the C-Tran, one eyebrow cocked. "You wanted to share an oven?"

Krystal said, "We really hope it'll help you. They call it a Culinary Transmutation Device. It can make any food you want on the spot." She tapped a button on the C-Tran, and up came its floating display. "What was that red fish you have that always looks so good?"

Grizzle tapped her finger on her desk, not in the mood to offer help.

Krystal recalled, "Salmon, that's it!" She fiddled with the C-Tran's inputs, and after a ding, she pulled out a plate with a half-pound salmon fillet. Its fat sizzled, and its rich smell enchanted her. Fox handed her a fork out of the crate. "Try some!" she said to Grizzle, holding it out.

On instinct, Grizzle took a few, short vigorous sniffs without realizing it. "I've no interest in your fake food. What are we really here for?"

"Let me explain how this could help you," Krystal went on. She forked a bite of fillet, and it flaked perfectly. She placed it in her mouth and moaned in pleasure. She had to chew and swallow, then continued her discussion with Madam Grizzle. After that, Krystal tried to sneak mouthfuls of fillet into her mouth while Grizzle spoke. She would scoop up as much fish as she could while talking, finish up a sentence, and then shovel the fish in while Grizzle responded. Grizzle's curt, matter-of-fact responses gave Krystal little time to eat. On the other hand, this was like no other fish Krystal had eaten, so fatty and flavorful. She couldn't hold back, and she took sweeping mouthfuls.

Grizzle said, "Fichina recognizes your efforts. But we can't maintain relations if Corneria continues its policies and rhetoric."

It wasn't long before Krystal had polished off the salmon. "Hang on, what's that giant sea beast you hunt for the blubber? Whale, right?" She leaned over, placed her plate back in the C-Tran, and tapped in an order for whale tail. Out came another sizzling dish, a thick brown cut of meat that must have been a full pound. "Please, try some," she said, holding out the plate to the hostile bear. "You can smell that aroma, right?"

Grizzle hesitated, then shook her head no.

"Anyway. I think you just misunderstand us," Krystal continued.

Lacking the proper knife, Krystal took the whale in her hands and bit down on it, shredding off a sizeable bite. Grizzle retained her composure, even as she smelled its thick flavor and witnessed its finely prepared juiciness. Her face remained set in stone, but her stomach growled audibly. She set her paws on her expansive gut and rubbed mindlessly, squishing her breasts together as she did so.

They continued talking, but the thick whale meat made it harder for Krystal to talk around. Instead, she ripped and swallowed it without care, freely talking with a full mouth. It seemed gigantic, and Krystal couldn't imagine finishing it. What's more, the heat suit grew tighter around her midsection. But she kept eating, eager to lap up more and more of its flavor and texture. She would stop when she'd had enough.

With a few bites left, she arched her back upward to ease her stomach's pressure and rubbed it. A soft burp leapt out. Unable to stop, she pressed the rest of the tail past her lips. She chewed in delight and cradled her inflating belly. "That's why (munch) Corneria knows (munch, chew) it can be an invaluable ally." Krystal gulped down the last of the whale tail. Her heat suit creaked as it pushed back against Krystal's indulgent stomach.

Grizzle replied, "We don't value what you have to offer." Her voice was softer now. "And we take umbrage at your presumption."

Krystal was pretty full, but there was one last Fichinian dish she had to try--the mixed snow. She licked up the juices on the plate, slid it back into the C-Tran, tapped a few air-buttons, and shortly afterwards reclaimed her plate. Sitting atop it was a mound of snow blended with whipped milk, sugar, and topped with a berry paste.

Whatever was on the bear's mind vanished at the sight. She licked her lips. Fox thought she was about ready to leap over her desk and swipe the plate. Instead, she looked on as Krystal tilted her head up and held the plate above, letting the sweet treat rush into her waiting gullet. The tart berries, sweet sugar, and sumptuous milk danced along her taste buds and slid downward into her stomach. All eyes were on Krystal's belly as she put on one last display of gluttony. With her finishing gulps, a ripping sound filled the room.

Krystal felt relief. A force had finally released its grip around her waist.

She looked down. The heat suit's outer layer was specially formed to prevent tearing from outside, but apparently not from inside. Her distended belly had pushed through, separating the zipper from the garment. Pale blue and white abdominal fur snuck outward through the gap. Krystal was no longer just soft around her middle; she had a bona fide belly, thickened with fat and ladened with food. She hiccuped.

As if snapping out of a trance, Madam Grizzle slammed the table and stood up. Her cynical, jaded tone became flustered. "That's it. Get out of here at once. And take that blasted contraption with you!" Her flabby cheeks and chin wobbled with a furiosity matched only by her voice.

Krystal protested. "Please, I'm sure we (bworp)--"

"Out!" Grizzle shouted.

Fox stood between them. "Hold on. We can't go. We aren't parked anywhere near here, and Krystal can't leave with her heat suit like this. The snow and winds will compromise it, and we can't make the distance in this harsh cold."

"Maybe she should have thought of that before gorging her fat face in that ridiculous suit! Now I said--" Grizzle started. But Fox locked eyes with her and tensed his muscles. "Just--" she continued. He remained ready. Then she snatched a heavily-furred coat off of her chair and slung it at Fox, who caught it even as he flinched. "Just get out of here!" she yelled.

The fur coat wasn't as nice as Krystal's heat suit, but it got the job done. Fox pulled the hover-crate with one hand and wrapped his other arm around Krystal's shoulders. She stumbled through the snow and cradled her hardened gut. Once they made it back to their sleeping quarters in the Great Fox, she shed the coat and her heat suit, then tumbled onto their bed. She released a languid belch.

"That madwoman hates Corneria more than before," Krystal muttered.

"That was quite a display," Fox mused.

"No. I mean, I literally read her mind, and she hates us very thoroughly."

Fox's mouth wrinkled into a cheeky grin. "You're telepathic. You read her mind. But I'm telegastric. She was seriously eyeing that food. You made her flustered because she couldn't admit to herself that Slippy's gadget worked, and it worked well."

"Fine, if you're so telegastric," Krystal said over her grumbling gut, "what's my stomach thinking?"

Fox sat on the bed beside her. "Oh Handsome Mr. Fox," he said in a high-pitched voice, "rub me!"

"Hmm, you are good," Krystal said.

And so Fox caressed her belly with the slightest touch, easing its pressure. It formed a mound over her midsection, stiff and taut. He had never seen her so bloated. Fox's heartbeat rose with the thought that her gurgling stomach was packed to its brim. He happily spent the night worshipping her burgeoning belly.

* * * * *

"Feeder's log, starweight 183.01. Krystal is quite fetching with a food baby.

"We ended up stuck with Slippy's weird oven thing. But the word is, Madam Grizzle looked up Slippy and got one for herself. If diplomacy doesn't work, maybe we can just get techie startups from Germanium Valley to convince Fichina to fork over oil.

"In any case, I'm glad Krystal has a new toy for indulging herself. We've both been feeling more frisky lately. Conclude message."