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DINING IN THE LYLAT SYSTEM Episode 2: WHALE OF A TALE Written by: JULES FERN * * * * * "Feeder's log, starweight 205.02. Ever since we got that culinary transmutation device, Krystal has been eating more. The new curves in her figure are exciting for the both of us, I think. "She's the lead diplomat for Corneria, and she covers most of our expenses around here. I keep myself busy with bounties, though. In fact, I just received an interesting call from royalty on Aquas." * * * * * Fox sat in the communications room aboard the Great Fox. On the screen before him was Queen Balaenoptera, the whale queen of Aquas. Her elongated head was turned to the side, one eye facing Fox. She bobbed up and down; she floated in a pool of water, held aloft solely by her buoyant blubber. To call her belly an apron would be an understatement. It flowed down past her knees, and it spread half an armspan on each side of her. Its girth formed a plump dome bissected by a roll that ran across the middle of her waist. Her round breasts lay thick atop her gut, almost completely covering its top half. Each boob sloped off her belly's side onto her puffy arms, each of which had a larger diameter than Fox's waist. Under her colossal stomach, the curving sweep of her wide legs floated on the water. Each tiny wave rippled her adipose and rubbed the rolls of her hips, thighs, and calves against each other. Her entire body was slick with water. Balaenoptera had called Fox to commission his services as a bounty hunter. "Orca Parker is your target. For years, she's robbed the peoples of my kingdom." Fox sipped coffee from a mug, then looked to the screen. "Isn't this a job for the police, your majesty?" "She started her crime spree as a lithe little delphinida, outwitting and outmaneuvering the authorities. But with each successful heist, her waistline grew and grew. Now, she carries a formidable bulk, and she wields it aggresively. All along the way, she's bested my most skilled swimmers. I hesitated to use lethal force, but now even that has failed. You're my last hope before turning to military-grade tactics." She parted her legs, although her abundant calves didn't leave much room between them. From offscreen, a whale servant swam casually between the queen's legs up to her stomach. His body was slim but defined, with broad shoulders: a textbook swimmer's build. She paid him no mind as he drew his hands together, then pressed them into her expansive belly flesh. He worked deep into her fat, pushing into her natural cushioning and reaching as far across her as he could. Fox was unsure what was going on, but he kept talking. "You're uh, not exactly driving a hard bargain here. You sound desperate." The masseuse swam his waist into her belly, letting it flub around him. He leaned over and stretched his hands into the crease along her middle, rubbing deep into her folds. He started on the left and made his way slowly across. She cooed as he rubbed deep into her stomach's groove. At its middle, her belly button itself formed a deep ridge of fat. Once his hands reached it, he drew his shoulders back, then put his back into it. He rubbed inside her soft navel, which swallowed his hands and wrists. Its fat billowed, filling the hole, and when he pushed his hands in, its wet blubber made a "shluck!" noise. Then, when he pulled his hands out, they made a "shlorp!" sound. "Shluck... shlorp! Shluck... shlorp!" went his massage, handling the pillowy walls of her navel. Balaenoptera closed her eyes and moaned. Fox nervously interrupted. "Is this a bad time? I can call back later." "No, no," the queen responded in a breathy, relaxed voice. "I'll pay you anything, name the price." "20,000 credits for Orca Parker, alive." "Done, mmmm," Balaenoptera said, unable to withhold her moans. "And throw in a free spa visit for that vixen of yours." "Great. I'll have ROB send over the bill." This would possibly be the easiest 20,000 space credits Fox would ever earn. * * * * * The next day, Fox parked the Great Fox on an artificial island on the surface of Aquas. Andross' meddling on Aquas in the Lylat Wars awakened its undersea denizens to the outside universe. They had reacted in a variety of ways. Some had chosen to transform the planet into an idyllic paradise, or at least a tourist econonmy. This particular artificial island had sandy beaches spanning up to a crystal blue ocean under calm blue skies. A long one-story building overlooked the beach, with rough stucco walls, red convex roof tiles, and arched windows. This was Queen Balaenoptera's favorite spa, the OceanView Spa. Inside, Krystal laid nude and face-down on a mattress, with her head in a face cradle. The mattress was a few feet taller than her and just as wide. Her rump was formed by two broad, round cheeks that rose high above the backside of healthy, well-padded hips. In the weeks since Slippy had shared his C-Tran, she had grown to love food, and it had grown her figure. Her meaty thighs met at the center of her legs with no room between them, forming a solid wall of pudge. Even her calves were soft and pliant to the touch. Above, the small of her back formed a gentle valley above her furry tail and between her chunky, sloping lovehandles (one of Fox's new favorite places to pinch his mate). Her chubbiness rolled into a deepening crease formed on either side of her waist, and a layer of adipose cushioned each shoulder blade. Her arms, thickened under a layer of flab, lay flat by her head. Her masseuse, a longfin squid with salmon-colored skin, stood by her feet. Two fins protruded from the sides of his head, forming an arrow shape. He wore an oxford shirt which had eight arms, four on each side, and two legs in pants below. On each side, his uppermost arm was longer than the rest, with a nub on the end--its manus, or his "hands." These longer arms could reach from one end of the mattress to the other. The shades on the windows were lowered, but an opening overhead let in peaceful summer breeze while showing clear blue skies. "Before we begin," the squid said, "I should let you know that your table has an automatic food server. We've run your allergy profile, so there's no need to worry if you don't recognize something. They're also covered for free as part of your stay. If you're hungry, just open your mouth." She parted her lips as if to say "aahh." From below her face swung a tiny metallic arm. It pushed a dark, round morsel between her open lips. She closed her mouth around the food, and the arm retreated. She chewed. The snack's outside was bitter and sweet, almost a coffee flavor, but the inside was rich and creamy. She cooed. Its intensity was heavenly, like a box of sweets and carton of cream all in one tiny bite. The coating was a particular type of seaweed native to Aquas, and the filling was made of sirenian milk--she believed. He applied the tip of each of his hands hand to the center of each of her calves, gently bisecting each one's fat. His hand-tips glided right down the middle between the two halves of the upper calf muscle. Then, he flattened his hands to her calves and pushed them back up. This time, his touch compressed her fat, smoothly squishing it down under his grip and letting it rise again in his wake. His touch was not muted by her pudge. Instead, he wielded her flab as a tool. It was an extension of his grip to stroke and ease her musculature. Krystal opened her mouth again and received another seaweed treat. It slipped between her lips, and it gushed when she bit down. Not only was the coating ridiculously thick, but it ran heavy, sweet, and bitter down her throat, followed by the watery snap of a juicy berry. The berry itself was sweet with just the slightest sour note. This was an acquaberry. She'd had them before, but this one was more flavorful than any she had ever eaten. She moaned. "Mmmm," she went as she chewed slowly, eventually swallowing. She took another sweet. He moved his hands to her upper legs. He started with gentle strokes along the outsides of her thighs. Then, he placed the "wrists" of his hands to the outer edge of each thigh, gripped the inner thighs using his hand-tip, and kneaded his wrists from the outside edges towards the inside. Her doughy thighs melted in his grip. Their flesh oozed around his hand, which applied soothing pressure to her outer thigh muscles. He handled her legs gracefully, manipulating their fat gingerly and letting it slide rather than plop. She ate another treat. His hands moved to her lower back. They started flat just above her tail and caressed the sides of her rounded glutes, moving from her gluteus medius down to her gluteus maximus. She rest her tail on her back as his hands swept back up along the center of each cheek. He repeated the motion, going harder each time, eventually kneading her rump. Its fat rolled under his grip, pursing soft flesh around his hands. The pressure refreshed her muscles, and her weight shifted around his touch. Krystal drew a deep breath through her nose while she chewed another snack. She hadn't realized the strain that she put on her rear just by sitting. "How do you like the menu?" the masseuse asked. Krystal nearly answered before swallowing, but caught herself. After a gulp, she replied, "Lovely. They're so decadent." She took another. "Our clients maintain a high caloric and fat intake, so we serve food that fits in their diet. You'll also notice all of the masseuses have long tentacles. We need them to serve our clients without applying undue pressure." In other words, they needed long arms to reach over mountains of lard to massage someone. "I did notice this massage table was exceptionally wide," Krystal said. The squid masseuse realized that this was someone unfamiliar with OceanView Spa's reputation. "OceanView specializes in whale care. Most of our clientele needs the large accommodations for their blubber." Around here, Krystal's size was modest by a few hundred space-pounds. Of course this was a spa for larger figures, Krystal thought to herself. She was surprised she hadn't realized it earlier. She took a seaweed treat and remembered the penguin she had passed in the hallway. She was shorter than Krystal, but her hips spanned wider than her height. Covered in a robe, she held her stubby arms straight out as she walked. Her fluffy sleeves, stuffed with blubber, slid along the top of her waist. Her belly formed a considerable paunch, and pert breasts filled out the top of the robe. Each foot took a wide, laborious swing as it stepped forward while she navigated each mammoth thigh past the other. She would fill out the massage table sideways, Krystal figured. Krystal closed her lips on a new morsel while she recalled someone she had met in the hallway, a walrus who had bumped into her. She wore a sheepish smile between her tusks and plump cheeks. Squat breasts were plopped on top of a stomach that almost reached down to the floor, and it was wide enough to block Krystal's view down the hallway. She pondered how a stomach like that would feel laying down on a surface like this. Entranced by luscious treats, Krystal ate more and more as he worked across her back. While the squid eased the tension in her back, she became aware of a growing tension at her middle. Those morsels were deceptively-sized, since they were small enough to pop in one after the other. Their heavy contents were meant to maintain whale blubber. Just as she consciously realized her discomfort, the masseuse spoke. "Let's move on to your front. Can you roll onto your back for me?" "Sure," Krystal said. Carefully, she pushed her left shoulder and pelvis up from the mattress and eased her back down onto it. Despite her mindful movement, her stomach sloshed hard as it came to rest atop her middle, wobbling but distended. "Oof," she uttered. Her plump breasts leaned on her chest and belly. "Stomach ache?" he asked. "Mm-hmm," she responded, blushing. "No need to be bashful, that's what I'm here for." He walked to a nearby fridge, then he pulled out a bottle of clear liquid and a lowball glass. He poured a glass full of fizzy, crystal-clear liquid: sparkling water. Next, he walked to the end of the table by her head and offered it to her. "Drink this, it will help while I work your abdominal muscles." "I'm full," she said. "Is that such a good idea?" "I can help your indigestion. Many of our clients indulge to the fullest in our cuisine, and it's just as much our pleasure to ease them as it is to feed them." Krystal sat up, took the glass, and sipped it down. The liquid cleansed her palate, cool and flavorless with a biting, popping texture. She felt it pour down her esophagus and mingle in a belly full of rich, dense desserts. She handed the glass back and laid flat. As her gut groaned, he set the glass aside. He placed his hands at the bottom of her ribs, then tickled downward. Her stomach's curves rose over her waist and curved oh so slightly over her pelvis, forming a miniscule crease. Across Krystal's body, fat had begun layering enough to develop a roll here, a fold there; humble but exciting steps in the course of her weight gain. His hands followed the curve of her gut downward, then went back up just below her chest with the slightest of strokes. Then he pressed his hand tips in ever so softly, stroking down in the middle and up along the sides. Her midsection gurgled behind his touch, but these sounds assuaged her ache. It felt as if he was conducting the contents of her stuffed gut, putting everything in order, and relaxing its nearby muscles. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, relaxed by the lowering tension in her stomach and the white noise it provided. A long, low belch eased out of her. She felt at peace. His hands' motions compressed and released the flab surrounding her full belly. She moaned. Krystal was tempted to gobble more food and see how full she could really get with his help. He lifted his hands and put them to her sides. "That's all the time we have, I'm afraid," he said. "Mmm," Krystal said, too relaxed to form words. She took a long breath and sat up, rolling her paunch into her lap. "There's a cocktail bar on the beach, right?" * * * * * Orca Parker was not an easy woman to find at rest. She assaulted anyone who would dare tail her to discover her hideout. During the day, though, was a different matter. She overpowered every opponent, every force so heavily that she let herself fall into a pattern. Today, it so happened, was her day to raid the underwater farm at OceanView. OceanView's sturdy foundation ran to the ocean floor below. On its southern side was a long pier, and many cylindrical cages hung from it. Each one housed a different saltwater delicacy of Aquas. Some were familiar, like sculpins, and others were alien, like the garoas crustaceans. The cages' gratings were tight enough to keep the fish in but loose enough to allow water to flow and waste to drain. In each cage's top was a tube for providing feed. Orca, the killer whale, approached the farm. She straddled her gargantuan gut like an oversized boogie board. Her arms were extended straight to her sides, and her broad belly was as wide as her armspan. As she swam, the current passing over her form forced her bicep flab to her waist, pressing it flat, so that it spanned from her bust all the way down to her hips. Her thickened fingertips gripped the edge of her belly. Its blubber drew a curved arc from her hands down to her feet. The tops of her chunky feet were pressed to it. Her calves swallowed her cankles altogether and spread wide along her gut--they were so stuffed that her heels pushed into them. Her thighs met her calves in a deep, wide crease. Her ass bulged over her thighs in so many rolls and hung from hips half as wide as her belly. To swim, she held her stomach and gyrated from her neck, through her waist and hips, down to her legs. Along her back, the water's current held her pudge as flat as it could against her belly. At every crease, fat glided smoothly along fat. The bulge forming a collar around her neck squished against thick layers of fat around her shoulders, and her lovehandles ground under her chubby shoulder blades and above her monumental ass. Every gyration of her hips would hide inches of her thigh under rump cellulite as it swung forward, pushing her butt cheeks down. Then, thrusting her hips back revealed her thighs while her butt cheeks retreated up. On the opposite side, each undulation formed a giant ripple across her belly, rolling in graceful waves under her powerful stroke. Above, her bust--normally round and full--squished to her upper belly and tucked between her biceps and upper waist, their prominent curvature dulled by the water's force along her body. Her plump tail ran over the middle of her legs, and her tail flukes helped propel her. She swam beside the todora cage (not to be confused with the dodora!). These were long, black, serpentine monsters with snake's jaws and wide fins around their neck. Wild todoras were big enough to swallow a person whole. Granted, not a person Orca's size. These todoras, on the other hand, were bred as livestock, and they were a relatively modest six feet long. Orca held herself in place beside the cage, extended a bulky arm over her sweeping chest, ripped open the cage for the meaty todoras, and reached in. She gripped a lengthy, slithering beast between her thick fingers, pulled it to her wide maw, and slurped it down whole. Others rushed towards the opening she created in their cage. As they squirmed free from their prison, she grasped at them furiously, squishing several in each hand and lunging her head forward to snatch others. One unlucky fellow swam up the middle of her chest. She squashed her tits together using her elbows, capturing the todora between her pillowy boobs. As it squirmed back and forth, struggling to come free, she thrust her head down and caught it in her jaws, then sucked it down. A belch erupted from her, spouting gassy bubbles into the waters. While she scarfed down the others, she heard a puttering noise. With todoras slithering between her lips, she turned to find the source of the noise. Behind her she spotted Fox McCloud, some meters away, aiming a standard issue blaster gun. There goes the element of surprise, he thought. He was wearing a lycra wetsuit and two cannisters on his back. One was an oxygen tank hooked up to a clear mask on his face. The other was one of Slippy's scrappy inventions: the so-called ICE pack, ICE being short for internal combustion engine. Slippy had got one to function underwater and worked out all the fine details like exhaust disposal. Then, he used it to power high-speed propellers. It was intended for killing time underwater. But, if Orca was the beast that Balaenoptera made her out to be, then Fox needed it for maneuverability. You couldn't always just blow shit up with the Blue Marine, he figured. Anyway, while his right hand aimed his blaster, his left hand was in a glove encoded with the controls for the ICE pack. Before Fox could take a clean shot, Orca blasted off. He was astounded to see a creature so large and bulky zoom through the water so quickly. She weaved towards him, and he backed off, trying to get a bead on her. She was upon him too fast, though. She swam inches above his head, and he went tumbling head over heels. His grip on his blaster failed, and it fell out of view before he could stabilize himself. That wasn't a direct hit. Her swimming was so forceful that it had generated a slipstream that slammed him like a ton of bricks. Fox finally steadied himself, and his eyes scanned for her. All too fast, she slammed him full force: she rammed the entire blubbery impact of her belly into him and swam off again. He escaped his recoil a little quicker this time. Damn! This fish was good. Fox couldn't face her directly. And her body's use of myoglobin ensured that it would be long before Fox could wear her out. If only they could meet on land, where Fox had more confidence. Orca charged towards Fox yet again using her undulating-belly technique. And it hit him: there was a beach right behind him. Fox spun towards it and clenched his left fist, fully opening the throttle on his pack. He zoomed forward, edging towards the water's surface. He rushed into shallower and shallower water. When the beach was a few feet below him, he released the engine, tucked in his knees, and caught a heel in the sand. From there, he broke into a run on land. He lifted the breathing mask from his face and looked behind. Orca was still coming in fast, belly-down, heedless of the landmass below quickly rising up to meet her blubber. With a great POW, she collided with the beach like a giant wrecking ball. Her momentum carried her meters forward across the gritty land while her broad form hurled water and sand skyward. * * * * * Krystal lay in a bikini on a beach chair, eyes closed. Her swimwear was a touch too small, biting into flab along her back and waist. Her mound and breasts were immodest in their current clothing; not revealed, but ill-covered. Her stomach graced her bikini bottom with the beginnings of a muffin top. She sipped a cocktail of fermented acquaberry and orange juice. She felt at peace under the sun's warm rays and the soft kiss of a cool breeze. The ocean ebbing in and out formed a dull white noise that eased her. She heard rapid splashing, then swift footfalls crunched the sand. They grew louder and louder. "Hey baby," she heard Fox's voice say, and then the footfalls became quieter. She opened her eyes and looked around. Was that Fox? Then, before she knew it, a loud, massive thud boomed across the beach, followed by an ominous fssshhh noise. She looked forward again to find a tidal wave of sand raining down towards her. She recoiled and held her arm up to her eyes. The sand coated her body, got in her hair, and worst of all, garnished her drink. She sputtered and wiped the wet sand off of her face. At the far end of the beach, towards the water, was a giant orca. She was stranded atop a stomach so wide that she couldn't reach around it. If that was Fox just now, then was this massive killer whale the subject of his bounty? Fox jogged back to Orca Parker, completely clean himself. He passed Krystal. Orca wriggled atop her fat stomach. She may have mastered the use of her bulk underwater, but on land, she was stranded on a beach of her own lard. "Just you wait 'till the tide comes in, you mutt!" she threatened. She slapped her tail against the bottom tip of her belly, attempting to come across as intimidating. Fox leaned back on her flab, beyond her grip. "You threw yourself pretty far along the beach here, Orca. I don't think you'll be going anywhere until the authorities arrive." Krystal marched up to Fox, drinking glass in hand. Damp sand was dripping from her body. As it fell, it revealed her bikini. "McCloud! What is the big idea?!" Krystal huffed. Smug, Fox replied, "I just bagged Aquas' biggest criminal." Krystal thrust her glass forward, hurling its wet sand into Fox's face. Fox spit out sand and wiped his eyes clean. "Hey, what did I do?" he said. * * * * * "Feeder's log, starweight 206.67. They needed an entire crew of tiger sharks to seal Orca Parker in a giant cage and haul her onto a ship. She's bound for prison and faces a stiff sentence. As for me, I'm happy with the 20 grand. It's kind of funny, I wonder if Balaenoptera's police actually never thought to coax Orca onto land. "Krystal got over the whole sand raining from above thing, and we shared drinks and space pizza on the beach. We stayed the night at OceanView's adjacent hotel, making full use of the room service and their romantic accommodations. "Oh yeah--Krystal also said I had a thing or two to learn about belly rubs."