FatspeakDrabble/Blob-ster Hunter

[3rd person. Obese monster hunter boy and his more experienced hunting partner. Out-of-shape, peril/being attacked by monsters, fatspeak, sickness.]

“Ugh… Kay, h-how… mush… f-further?” The corpulent hunter asks between strained breaths, each thudding step accompanied by the sound of his rolls clapping together, and the dull, metallic clank of his dual blades resting just above the broad, dimpled shelf of his ass. His breathless complaining only prompts further ire from the more seasoned huntress, resting a hand on her hips as she glares down at him.

“Look, Rookie, I understand that this is all a bit much for you,” She begins, prodding his flabby chest with her index finger, “I mean, the most exercise you get is hauling your bloated carcass from your bunk to the canteen. But if you don't stop whining, you're not gonna be making it back to Astera, understood?”

“...Y-Yeah, muh… hff, ma’am…” He grumbles, snatching his canteen from his belt and pouring it down his greedy gullet as his superior resumes her gruelling march (well, gruelling for him, in any event)  into the Ancient Forest. Shaking the last few drops of water into his awaiting maw, the inexperienced hunter lets out a belch, muffled by his plump, gloved hand.

“Honestly, I don't see what you're complaining about; I’m the one wearing fifty pounds of armour!” Kay mutters, barely loud enough for the rookie to hear her. “All you've gotta carry are those knives.”

“Tha… Tha’sh ohnly ‘caushe the… armour’sh sho expenshive…”

“It costs thrice as much for you, because you're thrice as big as any other hunter!” She barks, prompting a frustrated whine from her companion. “Look, if you can get through this stupid Jagras hunt without bitching or having a heart attack, I'll pay for like, half of whatever your armour costs. Alright?”

“...F-Fine.” To his credit, the rookie’s bellyaching stops there and then… well, the figurative bellyaching, that is. Without him bemoaning the long walk through the forest’s beaten path, both he and Kay can hear the incessant gurgling and rumbling of his stomach as he lumbers through the woodland with her. Neither of them could really tell whether his stomach was growling with hunger, or if that hearty pre-hunt platter wasn't sitting right in that bottomless pit of a stomach.

Before long, Kay raises a hand, coming to a halt and prompting the obese rookie to do the same, taking this opportunity to take a seat on a fallen tree trunk, taking deep, gasping breaths for air as he wipes the sweat from his tubby face. The veteran huntress traces a finger along a deep furrow in the trunk of a nearby tree, shifting her gaze towards the clearing in front of them, before turning back to the rookie with a wicked grin.

“They're here, alright. Why don't you show me what you can do with those blades?” She says, folding her arms across her chest. The younger hunter rests his hands on his makeshift seat, grunting as he tries to stand up; he's able to get his wobbly backside a few inches away from the tree trunk… before falling back on his ass with a little huff. Face flushed red, he looks up at Kay, before holding up a hand.

“C-Could… you hhhelp me uhp? I can’d--” He’s promptly cut off by the hardened huntress grabbing his flabby forearm, her fingers sinking into the yielding, sweaty blubber that swaddles his limb before harshly tugging him to his feet; he stumbles upon being hefted up, outstretching his jiggly arms in an attempt to keep himself balanced. Before he can thank her, Kay grabs his bicep, using those sagging deposits of fat as an impromptu handle before harshly pushing him out into that clearing. His already-laboured breathing grows quicker and more erratic as he looks back at his harsh superior, who simply flashed him a mocking smile as she unfolded her light bowgun, taking a knee and aiming.

The rookie looks around the surrounding trees and undergrowth with a look of absolute dread on his face, and he reaches a hand back to try and pull the compact blades from their sheaths.

‘Try’ being the operative word here; the most that he's able to accomplish is brushing the knives’ handles with his sausage-like digits, as the thick rings of lard around his arms forbid any more flexibility than that.

“F-Fuhckin’... I can’d… reach muh bladesh!” He yells, turning back and beginning a panicked waddle back towards Kay. He’s unable to make more than a few lumbering steps in her direction, however, when he's stopped dead in his tracks by a shrill hiss. He’s only able to get a brief glimpse of vivid yellow scales, before he’s thrown to the ground by something slamming into his roll-covered back.

His vision swims as he rolls over onto his back, letting out a sickly belch; between the mounting terror of his situation, and being thrown to the ground, it takes nothing short of a Herculean effort to keep himself from spewing, his stomach twisting underneath that heaving belly apron.

As he lays there trying to keep the contents of his gut where it belongs, the Jagras rounds upon its prey, pouncing onto his heaving stomach before he can even try to crawl away. His eyes widen as the pressure outside of his gut grows as painful as the pressure within it; feeling the telltale taste of bile in the back of his gullet, the rookie feels his gut shift, drawing the attention of that reptilian predator before he feels something working its way up his throat.

“Bwoooourrrp!”

Mercifully, his little outburst catches the voracious fanged wyvern off guard, long enough for Kay to line up a shot. There’s a resounding crack as she discharges her bowgun, and the Jagras is sent sprawling, quickly put down with a followup shot from the veteran hunter, who positively howls with laughter as she emerges from the brush.

“Wow, I figured you'd make for great monster bait, but that was something else entirely.” She cackles, kneeling beside the supine hunter.

“Ugh… my fuh… fuhckin’... shtomach…” He mewls, rubbing the hemisphere of his bruised, gurgling gut. Chuckling and shaking her head, Kay offers him a hand, the two of them struggling for a few seconds to get the nauseous hunter back to his feet as he braces himself against the taller woman.

“Tell ya what, forget about buying your armour; if you do that again, I'll buy your meals for a week when we get back to Astera. How’s that sound, fat boy?”

“...Y-Yuh, that'sh fine by me.”