Okay, I haven't updated this in a long time and I felt like I should, so here this is. It isn't anywhere near as short as the other ones, I know, but it's not worth it to post it as another story. I just wrote it, and I haven't proofread it yet because I'm lazy and my ass hurts like crazy. I also couldn't figure out how to end it, so sorry about that. I might come back and fix it. Might.
Oh, and a buttload of thanks for those of you sweet enough to review and/or add to your favorite stories.
Having been planted smack in the middle of the desert, Rabanastre was no stranger to dust. It could not escape the epic sand storms that wracked the surrounding land, and even the cleanest of homes was littered with sand and dust. But this morning, it was too hot even for the dust, Fran noted, as the sun poured through the window and illuminated the oddly clear atmosphere.
The swollen wood opened with a mournful creak, and Penelo, looking every bit the desert princess, came slinking back, gingerly clutching two cups brimming with wine. She was barefoot, wearing only parachute pants and a leather vest, and her two braids had been wound together and pinned on top of her head.
"I hope you weren't expecting one of these," she asked as she made her way towards the bed and all but drained the first cup. Wine was not, as a rule, a drink widely available to the piteous orphans of Rabanastre. But their recent adventure had provided them lavish gil, and now scarcely a day went by without Penelo guzzling a flagon all on her own. Fran supposed she should worry, but Penelo managed to be an utterly adorable, if somewhat mischievous, drunk, and she could not bring herself to raise the issue.
"You will get fat drinking all of that," Fran said as she reached up and snatched the second cup away, slopping the sticky red over the edge. An indignant grunt was Penelo's reply, as she waited until Fran brought it to her lips before grabbing it back slopping the rest down her chin and chest.
"You've got me all wet now, Fran," she pouted, jutting her lower lip and gazing sullenly at the sticky red wasteland of her chest. The Viera quirked an ear, knowing full well what a hume cliché this situation was, but she supposed since she was one now, she might as well join them. Smiling, she leaned in for a kiss.
"Mmmm, I suppose we will have to clean that up."
And, two hours later, Penelo was sufficiently cleaned and Fran sufficiently exhausted. But both knew that extending their absence any further would bring Balthier, or worse, Vaan, poking around, and it was with much grunting and sighing, provided mostly by Penelo, that the two women rose.
And it was here that Fran was confronted with her so-called armor.
"And you say I'm the one who's getting fat?"
Fran certainly looked sexy when "fully" clad, but watching her get to that point was another matter. Flesh bulged as the Viera attempted to wrench iron panties over her thighs, and grunts most unbecoming were being issued with a startling frequency.
'This material simply has no give," she said, "Help me with these buckles."
Penelo stepped forward to lend a hand, attempting to yank Fran's corset shut, but it was no use. Fran held her breath and sucked it in, and her dusky skin turned to white as their efforts drove the blood from her skin, but still it would not clasp.
"I can't. Fran, you're too pudgy," Penelo said, also failing to hold back the giggles.
But her laughter was quickly killed along with whatever poor rats happened to be nesting below the floor boards as Fran's heel hit it with a frighting intensity.
"I am NOT pudgy."
The outburst was so unexpected that Penelo couldn't help but burst into a fit of giggles again, this time flopping back onto the mattress. "Then why can't you fit into your own clothes? Face it, you're a beautiful, sexy, pudgy Viera."
Fran's ears twitched and Penelo could have sworn she'd heard her growl.
"Get me a rope," she grunted.
"We'll sinch it shut."
"No, Fran," Penelo began, getting up and sliding behind her lover, "Maybe all this heat...maybe it just made your armor uh...shrink a little bit."
The thought seemed to have cheered her somewhat. "Yes...I had not thought of that."
"Yeah, that's it. You can fit into some of my clothes, just for tonight, until this heat passes."
And so that was how Fran ended up in baggy half-shorts that only managed to be half-shorts on the young hume, beneath which she still wore her iron panties, and her chest was covered with a leather vest with a myriad of pointless buckles. Upon entering the inn's bar, Balthier whistled.
"Get too big for your britches again, old fr--"
"I suggest you hold your tongue lest we discover the unsavory details about what's contained in your britches, old friend," Fran snapped.
"Britches? Why, Fran, whatever are you talking about?"
As the sky pirate stalked off, Penelo shot a suspicious look at Fran, but held her tongue. Instead, she laced her fingers through her lover's, and led her towards an empty table. Ten minutes later, amid a light meal of bread and olives and, of course, wine, a waiter approached, pock faced and awkward.
He set a plate in front of Fran and said, "Um, courtesy of, um...that man there." He gestured towards the bar where Balthier smiled and gave a wave, before being pelted in the eye with an enormous carrot.