Ayla slob ficlet

	“Yeah yeah, gimme a minute will you?!” Lucca groggily shouted towards the beating coming from her front door. Dragging her limp hand across her bedside desk and donning her spectacles, she fumbled through the pile of dirty laundry at the foot of her bed. After assembling an outfit that was equal parts undergarment and food-stain, she whipped her hair out of her eyes and shuffled down the stairs towards the increasingly frantic-sounding knocking. It had been a long, frustrating night of repeated failures and dead-ends for the inventor, and the already tenuous circumstantial obligations of civility were being stretched alarmingly thin. This was her home after all, and if Lucca's mood were anymore irritable there is no doubt she'd be telling her visitor off in just her birthday suit.

 	With this disposition, Lucca groaned aloud with enough force to be heard through the painted wood: “Listen jerk, I've been up all night and then some trying to work on an engine prototype so that ALL of us can have nice, efficient private transportation that you won't have to clean it's droppings afterward, and...wait, you probably have no idea what the hell I'm even talking about...” Lucca slapped her forehead before twisting the knob and flinging the door opening inwards, and began to state her mind: “Look buster, this had better be reeeeally important or I—ACK!!! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT STENCH?!!”

 	Indeed, the vacuum formed by the swinging door had ushered in a deeply repulsive, sebaceous effluvium that ravaged Lucca's nose like a vat of rotting vegetable matter. As Lucca's index finger and thumb reflexively shot towards her nose, her glasses were pushed up to her brow and her perception of the malodorous guest clouded, further obscured by stray lengths of her hair flickering in and out of her eyes. All she could see was a looming figure vast enough to exceed the width of her door space taking blurry steps towards her...or would have, had they not spun around on their heels.
 As Lucca struggled to get her vision and olfactory sensitivity under control, a distorted but familiar voice struggled to maintain it's dignity as it shouted “L-Lucca! C-cover yourself girl, you're...your things are exposed!” in a profoundly childish whine.

 	“MARLE?!” Lucca responded, rubbing her eyes and getting her glasses back into place. Indeed, as incredulous as it was, the obese figure was none other than the princess herself, peeking through sausage-sized fingers at her. The trench coat she wore was pitifully undersized, and clung to every soaking crease, fold, and roll of her ample form. Lucca stared in silent shock, her analytically straining mind taking in all the morphological details; the quivering collection of chins that jostled with each uncomfortable grunt that slipped past swollen lips, the tear across the trench-coat's chest that exposed the ravine between her breasts. Her cellulite-laden thighs had pushed the brim of the garment to her waist, leaving little of the sprawling expanse of her legs and buttocks to the imagination. Even with her fat pressed against by the entry way, the young woman had to have been four feet wide at her narrowest point.

 	Coming back to reality after another embarrassed plea and sparing a hand to inspect herself, Lucca's face turned as crimson as the setting sun; in her half-asleep state, she'd managed to put her panties on sideways.

	 “Omigoshi, omigosh...s-stop peeking like that, Marle, and give me a sec, geez!” hollered Lucca as she wriggled one of her legs free and began hopping frantically through the cluttered central room as she tried to keep her balance. “W-what the hell's happened to you?!” She continued, managing to get her womanhood covered with the unwashed fabric.

 	“I'll explain later! J-just get yourself decent already—I need to use your restroom!” Marle answered, the sentence punctuated  with an ungodly wail from her bowels as she tried to walk backwards into the house. She paused after her bodily noise ceased, and sheepishly added “Um...would you think you could maybe set out a small...ish dinner while I'm up there?”

 	“Dinner? How can you think about eating at a time like this?” Lucca demanded, double checking herself before lowering her other leg.  Just as the digits were about to touch down on the littered carpet, Marle's bowels roared out once more, signifying the horrid intestinal distress happening inside the princess. Not one second after the groan ceased did a sickeningly ear-splitting “PPPPPPPBBBBBRRRRRAAAAAAAAAA~PTTPTPTPTPT” rocket from her cratered ass, knocking Lucca unconscious with fecal enriched fumes. Managing to twist her frame around without disturbing her sensitive bowels, Marle leaned over the zonked out girl and placed what she assumed was a crumpled newspaper under her head, and then waddled as fast has her cankles would carry her up the stairs. Between damning the architect for putting the plumping on the second floor and wincing at every squeal that slipped past her glutes, Marle prayed to whatever Gods were listening that her over-taxed sphincters could hold out for just a few moments more...

	“So what you're telling me is that you've been making yourself anxious by thinking about how you'll have to rule Guardia soon, and you thought getting leadership advice from Ayla would help?” Lucca asked. She sat on the floor against the exterior wall to her downstairs bathroom. “How the hell would that muscle-brained bimbo be able to help?!”

	“B-bimbo?! She is my ancestor and our friend, Lucca, don't you talk about her like...talk about her like....oooh, I hope this potty is reinforced...” she finished quietly under her breath before going near silent. Dozens of seconds passed without any noise from inside the lavatory, not even parps. Holding her nose, Lucca pressed her ear against the door; all she could make out were faint, weak gasps.

	“Marle...are you alright in there?” Lucca asked. The sound of an immense splash of toilet water,  the liquids gushing out from under the door, and the worst scent to ever burn her nose were her response, coupled with the gasping sighs of relief of a young lady who'd just thrown away all her dignity.

	To her credit, Marle didn't exit the bathroom until she'd banished her mess and mopped up the floor, ruining countless towels, and even Lucca noticed that she wasn't as flatulent now that she'd broken off a bakery. But the burden of royal hospitality was flushed away along with gods-knows what else, and Lucca wasn't letting her galpal's natural functions ruin any more of her home. Double checking to make sure none of the other island inhabitants were watching, she pressed her hands into Marle's clammy back and forced her outside to the yard before ordering her to strip. Silencing the embarrassed protests with a glare strong enough kill a monster, Lucca rolled out the water hose and sprayed the squealing, wriggling princess down like a prize hog just before the fair. Folds, rolls, creases, dimples, and joint pits were all drenched and then scrubbed as thoroughly as the two girls could manage. They worked in near-silence, Marle not being able to help herself when Lucca started on her arm pits (poor thing couldn't reach them without forcing her tits to smother her face and breath).

	It took about an hour, but there wasn't a centimeter of unclean, milk-white blubber left on the giggling blonde. They laid spread-eagle on the slope of Lucca's backyard watching the sunset, equally bewildered by the morning's events. Breathing heavily from the extended exertion of walking all the way from the castle from the castle, she wondered how she could explain what happened to her to cause her grow into such a gaseous blimp of a woman now that she had a moment of peace. Her time with Ayla these past few days, how she'd noticed small changes in her attitude towards food, and how no one in the castle noticed at all when she'd ballooned up. Marle's poor little ears turned deep red as she thought, her countenance grimacing as she weakly pressed a sausage to her doughy stomach. Would Lucca even want to help her after all of this? Would she be so disgusted that she'd---

	Paaaaaaaarp

	“Hee hee, sorry princess, been holding that one in aaaaaall day~!” And with that the two friends lost themselves in laughter and a tender embrace.


	“Ok, let's go over this from the beginning.” said Lucca as she set the kettle over the stove. “You say you were feeling a little anxious over becoming queen in the future, and thought it would be a good idea to ask Ayla..  I take it that the castle scholars and advisers weren't up to snuff,” Lucca sighed. “Not that I can blame you after what happened with the chancellor. I guess knowing those were the same people that schooled your father wasn't exactly a plus either.”
	Marle tugged on the bed-sheet that was tightly crimping her folds just under her arms and lower back before replying. Her clothes were still drying over the cracking fireplace and small mound of incense, so she would just have to endure the makeshift mumu.
	“Mhmm. I mean she is my great-great-gre...well, she is my grandmother and she did keep the species going despite all those horrible dinosaurs and ugly monsters stomping around back then.”
	“Marle, you do know we don't have any of those running about any more, right? You can't solve civil unrest by punching the problem away.” Lucca said with a wry smirk.
	“Of course I know that!” Marle snapped back, her left bosom slipping out of its satin bra. “What I mean is that with all those big beasts, natural disasters, and the ice age beginning to set in, she would have had to know how to lead a group in any manner of circumstances, geez!”
	“I'm just teasing you Marle, lighten u-er...sorry, wrong choice of words...” Lucca winced sheepishly. “B-but anyway, you brought her here to spend a week with her, and I imagine she takes advantage of the castle's hospitality. So she either gorged enough to alter her metabolism to the point her mitochondrial DNA was altered to insure immense adipose tissue reserves and to...sorry, I mean her ,mommy bits, changed for the wider, or she left our time with a new appreciation for food. Did she look or act any different when you walked her back to the Gate? ”
	Marle nodded, tucking her breast away and resting her hands on her belly, grimacing as they sank deeply into the pillowy mound. “She was the same silly girl for most of our visit—bragging about Kino's first hunt and nabbing a kilwala, how she learned different rocks make better beds than others, fuzzy little animals popping up here and there now that the dinosaurs are gone...there wasn't anything odd going on till we sat down for dinner. She never did get a chance to sample any of our time's food aside from those awful inn's slop, so I think our modern edibles left a bit of an impression on her...”

	A roaring burst of flatus reverberated through the dining hall, clattering the cutlery as Ayla leaned back to rub her bloated stomach. Her mauve skirt, fitted for a lean athlete, was pushed to it's limits as her ninth helping of mutton settled into the strained stomach.
	“Ayla thanks for food maker...Ayla never have so many yumyums in tummy before!”
	The castle chef, a woman in her mid forties, did her best to smile and nod as the yellow fog wafted through the room. Marle, having a less formal relationship with the oblivious amazon, shrieked instead as she desperately fanned the mist around her nose.
	“Ugh, keep those fumes to yourself—that is not how we compliment people here!!!”
	“Sorry...Ayla not used to you people's ways. How Ayla tribe say food is good is to be...oof...windy” Ayla explained, stiffening a big belch that puffed out her cheeks like a wet balloon. Leaning to her side, she silently forced out as much gas as she could, enough to let her prop her feet up on the table. “Thanks much Marle, Ayla never had so much food before, none as yummy either. Ayla do best to help with chief worri—whith chief worri—uh oh.”
	Ayla winced, a small tear pooling in the corner of her eye as she leaned over and blew the bottom of her chair out with an ear-splitting rump roar as Marle and the cook clamped their noses shut and cringed. Falling onto her butt and forcing out a burp, Ayla couldn't help herself and fell back laughing, kicking her toned legs in the air and stirring up the fetid air.
Fanning the air with her iron pan, the chef held her nose and explained how she appreciated the unorthodox approval regardless of how long it would take to fumigate the kitchen and dining hall.
	“More of milk making animal! Ayla want to keep eating til ~praaappttt~ Ayla no move!!!” the vixen-brute shouted with a predatory voracity dripping from every word as she flung her self back onto her soles. Grabbing the poor chef, she clamped her in to a tight bear hug against her quivering stomach.

	“....Damn, you let her gas out the whole dinning hall while traumatizing the chef and didn't think it was time to call it quits then and there?!” Lucca interjected, dumbstruck. “Friend and family or not, that's taking  hospitality waaaay too far Marle. Considering that she was living right when the planet began to cool down and competition with the Reptites,  being able to pig out like that for over a week probably gave her a very different perspective on food.
	“I know I know, it was wrong to let her pig out like that, and now I'm stuck carrying the repercussions!” the princess whimpered, hefting up her belly and letting it slap against the table as it fell. A low groan echoed from behind the flabby folds, sending soft ripples through Marle's abdomen. “I also picked up her appetite, it looks like....would you, um...”
	“No worries; can't let nobility go hungry.” Lucca winked. “I've got cookies, milk, and---”
	“I'll take the whole jar and the gallon of milk.” Marle stated flatly before adding “Please.”

	The crackle of electricity echoed off the valley cliff-side as the black sphere materialized, scattering dozens of small winged creatures. The booming thud that echoed through the valley masked the discharge of the vanishing portal, and also Marle's whimpers as she rubbed her quivering ass. Lucca said, “Thanks for breaking my fall—see, this isn't so bad” with a wry grin as she slid off Marle's derriere and dug her heels in to help heft up the royal bulk.
	“Says the girl not full of churning gases...” Marle winced as she clenched her buns and delicately massaged the groove between her stomach layers. The unruly vibrations shook back and forth beneath the pale blubber, out muscling Marle's paltry gluteal strength and filling the valley floor with 10th century funk. “Wew...lets get moving before I choke out the sky.”
	“At least the smaller animals don't have to worry about predators with that musk covering their scent!” Lucca teased, her giggling slipping into full laughter as a doughy fist popped her in the shoulder.

	The girls thanked their lucky stars that the walk to Ayla's village was on even ground, even as Marle drenched herself from the exertion. Her common attire was ditched for more practical jungle clothing on Lucca's behest; a long sleeved white top with pit hat and a pair of thick hiking pants with harnesses to carry water, high-carb snacks, and a compass, complete with reinforced boots. Lucca's own get up was roughly the same, but topped with a large backpack crammed full of dried foods, camping equipment, and plenty of charges for the blaster at her hip. Soft shoulders and a moist, sagging back kept the princess from carrying her own bag, and the thought of eating food kept in a rump pouch anywhere near such a volatile area or under the dripping canopy of her stomach set Lucca to reassure Marle that she was perfectly fine with carrying the sixty kilos of supplies herself.
	It didn't take long for the poor thing to ruin her outfit at all, waddling under a cloudless, scorching sun. The jungle Lucca expected had given way to vast planes after the climate began to shift, and the stoney, ruddy plateaus that used to dominate the topography beyond the dense flora had blossomed into seas of green grass populated with thickets of familiar-looking saplings and clusters of flowers. As such, her white top turned grey as oily liquids seeped out, pooled, and stagnated in the now draping sleeves and back crevasses. The bloated fibers sent a horrid chafe under Marle delicate armpits,  matching the thigh burn her infuriatingly tight pants were granting her even after an emergency poot split the hind seam by accident. With the clothing now skin tight, every inch of the girl seemed, well, fatter—where the carnival-top shirt was comfortable hours earlier, it was choking her. Even the hem of her pant legs were being over taken with cankle fat. No matter how many times Lucca went over it in her head, it just didn't add up—they took Marle's measurements on their own and at the tailor's (chin collections make for excellent ways to hide one's identity), and yet here she was sitting on top of the poor girl and cutting her pants off with a hunting knife. Dodging the rising heat of repressed gases when the last fiber broke, Lucca slid off the big bum and did the same for the oily sleeves as she pondered aloud.
	“I've kept an eye on you since we left my house for the clothing shops, and that one lunch you had couldn't have enough calories to explain all this” she said, grabbing a hand full of blubber that oozed over Marle's waistband like raw dough. The cowering blonde flinched, and peeked out from between her fingers.
	“Are you done now?”
	“Marle I told you I wasn't going to nick you, don't be such a baby.” Lucca shot back, tugging the oozing remains of the trousers over her ass and past cratered thighs. “Maybe'baby' was too strong a word...” Lucca mumbled to herself as Marle sat up in what amounted to a makeshift bra with sewn pillow cases for panties.
	“I'm sorry Lucca, I'm just so nervous—what if meeting with Ayla doesn't fix all...this?!” she moaned, grabbing a boob with one stubby hand, her gut with the other, and farting out a minor gale as she leaned to the side. “What if I can't convince her to change her diet? What if I'm stuck as a whale forever? WHAT IF CHRONO SEES MEEEEE—ack!” Marle gasped as a coughing Lucca shook her by the shoulders—or tried to anyway after her fingers glided off her lubricated fat.
	“With all do (hack) respect (splutter) y-your highness...GET A GRIP! Don't you dare start thinking like that now, not after all I've had to put up wi--er, we've been through. No matter what happens, we'll see this through even if I have to devise the perfect diet plan myself. So get your big ass moving Marle, and let's see this through.”
	The two hugged after Marle got to her feet, Lucca doing her best to enjoy the camaraderie despite the fluids drenching her. She did admit it felt nice to sink into so much warm blubber, but the thunderous rumbling of the royal stomach did ruin the mood just a bit.
	“Um...maybe just after a quick bite?”

	The sun began to teeter over the horizon as the girls finally saw the familiar huts lining the opening in the forest's brim. Exhausted beyond courtesy or decency, Lucca clamped down on Marle's meaty wrist and yanked her away from the bewildered villagers.
	“This is no time for a diplomatic meet-and-greet!” she hollered over her shoulder, managing to pull Marle a few more feet before her hand glided out of her grip and momentum sent her flying face first into the muddy soil. Trembling, Lucca ignored Marle's question of her well-being, sank her hands as deep into her back as she could, and pushed with all her might towards the massive hut in the center of the village. Frustrated as she was, Lucca didn't notice the pungency of the hut until she'd gotten the two of them past the hanging-bead opening.
	“Oooooooh Ayla, you've got compan--eeeck!” was all Lucca could do to announce their arrival before gravity pushed the two of them down a steep incline just past the entryway threshold. Tumbling down like a boulder of hot vinyl, gas trails billowed from Marle's ass like a misty pin-wheel as she rolled head over bum. Her weight caused her to sink into the loose soil that formed the incline, cushioning her just enough so that she did not break any of Lucca's bones when she mowed over her. The poor princess would have wept then and there if the...interesting sensation of her friend's mass being wedged between her buns didn't force a bright red blush across her face.
	Marle landed with a spluttering parp instead of a thud, flinching as Lucca's free hand clawed into her left cheek. She got up as quickly as her overburdened thighs would let her, squeaking countless apologizes as she fanned her fat fingers over Lucca's despondent face. When the fart fog lifted from her glasses, Marle stumbled back from the intense glare until she hit something massive and soft. Prodding the surface with a stubby digit while she slowly cranked her chins over her shoulder, her jaw met the rim of her bosom as a dollop of spittle splattered against her forehead.
	The wall Marle leaned against trembled violently, and the hut was filled with a fetid odor that smothered out the princess' own stench like a tidal wave swallowing the shore. Thick mist carried the stench as Lucca and Marle clamped their eyes and noses shut as the tears began to spill—the gas was akin to molded onions and asparagus stewed in sour milk, with the piercing intensity of a freshly cut pepper. A low, guttural laughter rose up as the rumbling died down, the familiar voice sending a shiver down Lucca's spine as she steeled herself to see the results of Ayla's new appetites. She felt a massive lump of flesh grip her by the waist, grease and sweat seeping through her clothes instantly as she was hoisted up. Marle squealed like a piglet as her bulk was effortlessly lifted up as well, stopping only when a pair of immensely bloated, pursed lips met her own and left tendrils of slobber when they parted. Lucca's turn left her blind as her glasses were pulled off her face from the suction, a curtain of horrid breath taking their place.
	In a voice like that of a groaning, beached whale Ayla said “Lucca....Marle....Ayla so happy to see you *urp* ! Sorry Ayla...not send...welcome...was making boom-boom....” before lathering those plump lips with a quivering mound of a tongue.
	As Marle sputtered at the thought of what “boom-boom” meant and it's proximity to her, Lucca swallowed her anxiety till her throat was dry and said: “Er, about dinner...you see, the new “diet” Marle here has gotten you into has had some...unsavory affects on her and we've been meaning to talk about how much you eat--”
	“Eat? Marle...Lucca hungry? Should just...just say so....oof... Ayla make village prepare biggest...huff... feast girls ever seen, eat till no walk!” the mammoth woman laughed, pinning her friends to her greasy, soft sides like a mother carrying her toddlers. Ayla's footsteps came ponderously, each muscle shifting hundreds of pounds with the slightest twitch, the claps of her fat slapping against itself echoing thunderously through the cave like like the crash of a red wood. It was slow going up the steep slope with Ayla too delighted by the surprise visit to exert anything more than the minimum effort to haul their combined bulk, hugging her beloved friends closer as she suppressed a squeal over what dinner might bring.
	Needless to say, either Lucca nor Marle shared the sentiment; their faces were buried thirty-six inches between two layers of acne riddled, porous adipose just beneath their host's salivating armpits. The noxious fume, so often associated with such regions, cascaded down over the jostling skin to paint both girls with an oily flush as clumps of pit hair were squeezed of their liquid retention, lovingly meandering it's way through each facial crevasse before settling on Marle and Lucca's lips.
	With her incomplete understanding of prehistoric life and the evolution of culture, Lucca sincerely wondered if Ayla wasn't marking her—the bellowing chuckles spewed forth from those obscene, luscious lips did not help.
	With each step sending the trio's swaying blubber back and for like pendulum swing, Ayla's bulk naturally absorbed the lion's share of the vibrations. Her chiseled muscles, hidden as though they be, were more than up to the task—however, the same could not be said for the delicate organs hidden away behind her drooping navel. Indeed, Ayla's sedentary lifestyle was one adopted out of concern for her overworked bowels rather than fatigue, and her jubilant reunion had blocked out that vital realization from the surface of her mind.
	“Need...stop, bottom...boom...” Ayla said plainly, no more emotion to her voice than if she were stating the time of day. With not so much as a grunt she hefted her friends up onto her soft shoulders, the blubber instantly forming a nearly air tight seal around their rears, forced her feet shoulder width apart, and began to lean forward.
	Lucca squealed like a hog-tied sow and frantically wiped the axillary fluids from her face now that her arms were free, and was too busy spitting and retching the mildewy taste from her mouth to notice Ayla's shift in position. Marle though, too used now to her own rancid breath to be as disgusted with the pit sweat, peered over her shoulder as much as her chins would allow, and felt a shiver run so strongly down her back she passed gas before she could even shriek. “A....A...Ayla, s-sweetie?! Please, please try to hold on---!!!!” Marle stuttered, goosebumps spreading through her hills and valleys as the sounds of the first layer of feces slapping moistly against the dirt floor.
	Her arms pinned to her sides by Ayla's swollen digits, Marle panicked and made the mistake of clamping her eyes shut. No matter how foul the gnarled logs that passed through the leviathan buttocks might be, in the darkness of a fear-driven imagination they became the very stuff stuff of nightmares, mountains of steaming, wet shit that swallowed up the world in a never ending bowel movement. Each splatter against the ground, each moist crackle of twisting movement, each satisfied pant of the oblivious cavewoman was magnified a thousand times in the princess' mind's eye. But between those ghastly sounds a black thought bloomed: where was the stench?
	Peeping with one eye, Marle glanced over her shoulder and understood; a thick layer of yellow-green mist hovered at Ayla's waist masked the serpentine stools, yet was so laden with it's own fetor that it could not rise despite the smoldering temperature. Could Ayla's filth really be so fetid it snuffed itself out? With that though Marle sighed heavily and thanked whatever primitive gods there were, her surging heart gently returning to it's lethargic rhythm.
	“Are...Are you all finished Ayla?”  the princess asked, her tone nearly that of a mother concerned over her daughter's potty training. Her only response was a grunt, muffled by sagging chins, and a sudden shift of weight to the left that nearly sent Lucca and Marle flailing over. With one last plop, a deafening silence over took the cavern before a resonating rumble magnified itself in Ayla's center, through her arms, and up into the disgusted time travelers with animal like ferocity. Before either girl had time to take a quick emergency breath, an ear splitting typhoon of flatulence rocketed out of Ayla's ass, flooding the cave with an eye watering, noxious fume so powerful it forced the aryan giant to her knees.
	This sudden shift in balance sent the girl's slipping backwards, colliding against Ayla's dimpled wings with a wet smack. They slid well past the layer of mist before they could feel sausages wrap around their ankles, both sets of nostrils already filling with the piercing, acrid discharge. Not that staying perched on the big woman's shoulders would have helped: Ayla was still passing gas with such force that the steam slammed against the rear of the den and doubled over, gliding across the ceiling and raining over it's source. As it was now, Lucca and Marle were treated to a primordial blow-dry and massage as the farting steam “cleaned” their hair and the bouncing of Ayla's buns popped every one of their joints from the waist up.
	As the putrid fumes quite literally burned themselves into Marle's memory, a vision of herself flashed before her eyes; bloated, sore-laden, slobbering, and filled with enough gas to fill a hundred festival balloons. The last thing she saw before passing out was this vile mockery of her beautiful self smothering her red-haired beloved in a pimple-riddled, greasy embrace.
	Marle was a awoken by the forceful prod of a wooden shaft to her second stomach fold, and by the loud splattering of released navel-sweat hitting the stone she laid on. Clumsily wiping away crusts of dried fluid from her eyes, she saw a lean, blonde young man holding a spear in on hand and the lacerated corpse of some reptilian thing in the other. The orange haze that clung to his silhouette her that some hours had passed since she lost consciousness.
	“Kino happy to see you again miss Marle! Kino  lead big hunting troop when you arrive at village, but sent by Ayla to—er, sent by Chief Ayla to bring you to big eating spot!” he blabbered joyfully before taking a long look at the prone girl and smirking.
	“Chief Ayla right, much, much healthier for making baby now than last time you visit!” the golden youth quipped, giving a firm poke to one of the princess' bovine mammaries. Was it the rough prod that fully brought Marle out of her stupor, or the incessant laughter Kino blurted out as the impact carried through her tits and up to her jiggling face?
	“Hey, watch where you're sticking that thing you...trogmolonodite!” Marle shot back, groaning as she struggled to sit upright. Marle's expansion had come just seconds after seeing Ayla off through the Gate, and the last time she was on her back in this condition she had poor Lucca to help haul her up.   Her palm quickly bled as she made the mistake of shifting her torso's weight to it, and the beads of sweat trickling down the cellulite-choked extremity sent her falling back to the stone slab with a wet plop. Watching the poor thing work up a  torrent of sweat as her arms and core muscles failed to heft up her bulk, the stripling of a hunter tossed his head even further back in laughter before he carefully pulled his descendant to her swollen feet. A wet belch enveloped his face in lieu of a thank you on the princess' part, as Marle's stomach gases churned from the sudden shift in position.
	“Ahahahah, you daughter of Ayla's daughter...daughter, alright, same bottom breath!” Kino continued in his light teasing, seemingly oblivious to their blood relation as he quickly fanned the air around his face.
	“Good thing you awake now, food for you and big brain almost ready. Come, I lead you to big eating place!” he grinned, clamping his firm grip onto the tube of fat that had once been Marle's wrist and pulling her off from the hut down a path of matted straw and grass.
	Despite the troglodyte's sinewy build, Kino pulled Marle along at a fast clip, much faster than the suffering princess could stand at her new weight, soiling the girl's pantaloons an blouse even further as her overtaxed body struggled to keep up the pace. The feasting ground was just short of a mile from the tribal huts proper: it was a flat, circular mound of dirt bricks mixed with stones raised two meters off the ground with a radius of 300 meters surrounded by a crude fence of logs and larger stones.  Even from her distance and height Marle could see the beige blob with the speck of yellow at it's zenith sitting in the middle of the mound, along with the clusters of shallow fire pits that peppered the outer edges. It wasn't surprising to see that no pit was close to Ayla's rear.
	Curiously, there was a gradual slope descending from the center of the mound backwards, though it was too narrow to be a ramp for Ayla to waddle up, and the sitting mats were arranged too disjointedly for it to serve as any worthwhile divider. The tribesmen took care to avoid being near it as well, save to relight the torches most near it. All of these observations were skewed by a burning pounding in Marle's chest, however, as she panted like a dying beast to keep up with her escort.
	“K-kino...I-(huff)...I need to....(pant)...please stop already!!!” Marle screamed, her heart fighting an uphill battle against both the grueling humidity and the sheer strain of getting her ass to move so quickly. She fell to her knees the second Kino let her wrist go, the red indent left on her wrist swelling back to normal. The poor young woman fought back the urge to vomit as her rocketing pulse twisted her innards, the nauseating sensation worsened as the misty fumes of  rising sweat were trapped around her nose by the width of her bulbous face.
	“We here!” Kino beamed, waving to the rest of his tribesmen as they set about preparing the evening celebration. With a strength honed from years of struggling against the unyielding elements, Kino squatted own and stretched his long arms across Marle's waist and pressed them in until his fingertips met. Ignoring the deluge of assorted fluids that spilled onto his scalp as his face was swallowed up by the royal navel, as well as the hot, quiet gas seeping from her rear, he lifted the startled girl over his shoulder and set her down gently on a grass mat adjacent to Ayla's belly.  Whatever lightheadedness still lingered beneath Marle's blonde mop was wiped out by the sheer juxtaposition of countless exotic spices, seasonings, and scents of sizzling slabs of meat being blown over the simmering filth of Ayla's hygiene.
	“Kino get snack for Marle, now!” the chieftess stated, clumps of wet grains splattering across her lower chins before being loped up by a salivating tongue. “...And more dactyl wings for Ayla!” she added, reaching into her pimpled cleavage and pulling out what looked to be a well-gnawed bone with few strips of meat still attached. Marle knew she shouldn't be surprised by such a disgraceful act anymore, not even when the core of an apple tumbled out and bounced along the upper rim of Ayla's stomach before getting wedged in her thigh crease.
	“Oh, I'm really not hungry right now, there's no need to--” Marle spoke as the caveman turned on his heels and took off for one of the farther fires. Admittedly Marle was growing more than a little peckish from the days events, but she'd rather not be left alone with someone whose obliviousness to personal space is matched only by her filth.
	“Marle funny, finally grow healthy body then turn down food!” Ayla howled in laughter, spraying herself with more of the spittle-covered grains before picking off the last few bits of pterodactyl meat from the bone. With a swiftness so unsettling for her girth, she hooked a fallen tree of a leg around Marle and pulled her against her blemished stomach and pulled her up to her hip with her free hand. Chucking the bone over her shoulder like so many of her descendants would, Ayla wedged her thick arm between her breasts again, pulling out a large lump of compressed fruits and shoving the whole piecemeal thing into Marle's mouth.
	“Ayla bad chief if not feed guests, and friends best guests there can be!” she explained, her girlish giggles transformed into intimidating bellows by the great sway of her chins.
	It was all Marle could do to swallow the cluster quickly, the salty layers of sweaty and hints of ammonia razing an ugly path down her tongue and throat. Gagging once she finally got the hideous thing down the hatch, Marle demanded to know where Lucca was. A bloated bratwurst of an index finger pressing against her glossy lips, followed by a low whisper.
	“Lucca still sleepy, she in hut to north of feast place. You and Ayla need alone time~”