(The following is from a guest, I will break the story up and allow for new additions, but, will also post leads to complete the short story too)
"And I'm telling ya puhmba," Timon was saying before he had to gasp for air. "There ain't no way you can out chili this here meerkat." He pointed at his chest, his finger sinking into the mound in front of him.
"Oh is that so?" pumbaa replied, sounding offended. He grunted as a high pitched fart poofed from under his tail. The wart hog's chin rested on his chest, his legs up in the air, and all the space between them was as stable as a water balloon on a truck racing down a bumpy highway. He looked over his form down to the meerkat. "And from the looks of things, I think I out chilled you!"
"Hah!" Timon coughed, slapping his belly as it shook like jello and making his innards grow sea sick. He then pushed a finger deep into his belly, twisting the flesh like spaghetti on a form, and grinned as a low, juicy fart was released. "Not this Monday!"
"It's Tuesday."
"Like I said, this Monday," Timon replied. He burped, sending a ripple down his overly bloated flesh. His belly threatened to swallow the base of his tail.
"But..." Pumbaa grumbled, realized that there was no point in arguing. "Then I'll out after chili you!" The wart hog rolled onto his side as his belly took a few minutes to catch, rumbling and trembling, shaking his tail and thighs. He grunted and wiggled, and finally a long, gaseous release made his tail flap and his thighs sting.
"Gah!" Timon waved a hand in front of his nose, coughing repeatedly. "If you're gonna play dirty, then you're on!" He wiggled as though running in place from his back. The arms went up and down, the legs squirmed form side to side, and the rest of his body was a disturbed mound of jello. PHFFRAAAPT!" "Hah! Take that one Puhmba!"
"Whew! Do you feel a draft?" Timon asked. Several patches of fur had blow off his lower regioons from that, leaving bare, stinging flesh.
"Oooh! I'd plug you up if I knew what was good for you!" Pumbaa said, his brow narrowing. He rocked from side to side, unable to do much else, no matter how much his legs kicked. "You're luck I can't get over th-" -PHFRIBBITT.
"And you're lucky I can't get over THERE!" Timon snapped.
The meerkat rolled onto his belly, his tail in the air, and his sides pressing out several inches. As he wagged his tail, he farted again, and did his best to aim at Pumbaa. "I don't play to lose!" he taunted, feeling a burning build up in his guts. Pumbaa did the same, his body shaking as he breathed heavily. His innards were like a chemistry project, boiling and percolating, waiting for someone to stop it before there was an explosion. Phft PHFT PTITITITRAP SQUEALPPPHFTT! "Take that!" he snapped, his voice cracking from being so worked up
Pumbaa's stinging anus was like a disturbed drum head as a second round of assaults flew forth, now exploding so quickly that he had trouble catching his breath.
Timon looked green in the face, even with all his fur. He clasped a paw over his muzzle and returned the volley, although this was more from how sick he felt than from an attempt to fight back. His body bounced in place, still very much like a water balloon, for several seconds afterward. When he tried to talk his voice went up and down, like a child bouncing on his father's knee. He then rolled closer to Pumbaa as the wide stripes on his back stretched and squished from the movements. He grabbed a nearby rock, grunting and straining as he hefted it into the air, and then placing it on his belly. The weight sent the gasses out at a rapid pace. "Haha!" he called. "I haven't lost yet. Take that! And that! And THAT!" PHHRAAABITTYPHFT. It was soon difficult to tell what was a back stripe and what was a stain. "Have you had enough?!"
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