[Suggested music - Wario Land: Shake It! - Aboard the Sweet Stuff: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rd8n74XD... ]
Smooth seas crashed against the hull, designed in the shape of a giant treasure chest bursting with a cornucopia of boons. The skull-and-crossbones flag rose to the salty winds: a dare and warning to everyone who spotted it among the heavy mists. The Sweet Stuff was a majestic ship, stolen from the fabled Shake Dimension's greatest pirate.
Stolen by Wario's target herself.
He swam to on one of the ropes off the side, and began scaling the wall of splinters and barnacles. The stir of the waves rocked the vessel slowly, making its shrunken invader swing against the hull; his gloves clung hard to the material, even as the perspective dizzied him. Far above, he spotted something red, a blazing fire in wild curls against the grey-and-indigo skies.
His magnificent brows furrowed, looking up. "Urgh, don't tell me that's her -- WAH, get your mitts off!"
An immense manicured hand rested on the edge of the deck, playing idly with the rope. The wind blew through Wario's hair - including his chest hair - as the fidgeting woman swung him violently. At the swing's apex, he spotted hints of a soft, exposed shoulder behind two loose magenta straps. But really, the man didn't need any other identifying features; he knew that long, curly red hair, which flopped over her wide shoulders when she ran with treasure. He knew that elegant hand, having seen it pluck away his gold more often than he plucked chips from a bowl. He knew this scoundrel far better than he'd have wanted to.
"SYRUP." The rogue didn't so much speak the captain's name, as grind his shiny teeth in frustration until they produced a roughly equivalent sound. Mid-swing, she tugged the rope in, sending Wario flying in the air - with a perfect overhead view of the deck.
Curse her. Curse that light-purple bandana. Curse that smug, hungry look in her deep eyes and full, red lips. Curse the way she put her hands on her rounded hips with the baggy pants that accented her developed rear. Curse the crew of Black Sugar Gang that waddled around as she barked orders. Curse the floor that Wario landed headfirst into, splattering him. Curse the saltwater he choked up and the stars fluttering above his head. Curse gravity, keeping people down like that. Curse everything on the Sweet Stuff!
...Except his treasure. If Captain Syrup was here, she had to have some gold aboard. Her rival would take what was rightfully his! Even if it wasn't his to begin with!
Something shook as he plotted his daring heist. The captain turned away from the seas, stretching her great arms - the purple banks dangling behind her neck, and the tooth necklace across her bust swaying gently with the crashing waves. Folds stretched along her loose pants, from the red belt with the skull buckle - taking a step, her boot jolting forward...
SCRUNCH. Before Wario could unglue himself from the floorboards, the curvy woman had done the work for him. The light mauvre surface squeezed him flat. Hard rubber above him silence his screams, pushing his internal organs into a messy, thin lump. His sturdy limbs, hefty abs, and beautiful face were completely stuck against the enormous plane of footwear, wearing down on him. It felt as if Mt. Teapot was on his shoulders!
"Gah... I'll get you for this!" His screams were unheard, just making the sour taste of mixed dirt launch an attack on his taste buds.
She trod along the deck, counting the crew members on watch. Either unaccustomed to basic manners, or trying to assert her authority, she crossed the Sweet Stuff in quake-birthing stomps. Her lack of etiquette appalled the man - while he suffered the brunt of this heavy-footed walk! He'd have to teach her some manners, he thought, scratching his crushed backside.
"Avast." The Black Sugar Gang's boss looked up to the crow's nest. "Are we still clear for Jewelry Land?"
So, that's where this ship was cruising? The man wondered, between agonizing squeezes that surrounded and engulfed him.
Her voice was low, husky, coming from deep inside her gut. It rattled across Wario's ears, much to his agony. He'd had enough of that sugar-coated sweet-talking when they were last working together... Another thundering footstep knocked his thoughts to reality again.
From above, a beak squawked in response: "We're sailin' steady, but visibility is bad! Might be weeks before we reach land!" The dark-feathered foul looked down. "Do you think we can make it there before Kaptain K. Rool?"
The gang's leader tapped her foot, thinking.
Thwoom. THWOOM. THWOOM.
"Wah! WAH! WAAAAHCK!"
Again and again, the scallywag clinging on hit the unstable ground. The rollercoaster of falls twisted and bent his mustache, sticking out from his flattened face. Each push down made his blood boil more. Oooh, when he saw that pirate's smug smile turn into shock, when she noticed everything she'd stolen swiped from under her nose... Wahahah!
The redhead, balancing on her heel, called up: "If we hurry. Keep watch, I'll be in my quarters." When she got up, the rascal inhaled deeply, trying to refill himself - an effort ruined once the next step re-pushed the oxygen out of his system, like a whoopee cushion.
This pirate kept peering through his spyglass, trying to decipher a shape in the mists. "And Wario? What if he's after the treasure?"
She twisted behind her, smearing the invader across the rubber surface. He tried to bear it as the ankle twisted, crushing him down deeper. "Wario?" One single eyebrow raised inquisitively. Her bare arms crossed under her heaving chest. "Don't get me excited. The only expedition he's gone on recently are nose-digging sessions." She gave a sigh permission to escape her stomach. "Man lost his sea legs a long time ago. Now microgames and fart jokes are his fate. Forget him."
And with an easy menace, and drooping shoulders, the buccaneer turned again, firmly grinding the man in question in a semi-circle. It stuck him closer to the gigantic boot. His sense of direction failed him as he flied in the air, grabbing a peek of the pirate's firm booty, before falling to the ground anew. SLAM!
Okay, now that was too far! He still had his sea legs - even if they ached with pain from the steady motion of Syrup's far larger, more shapely sea legs. He was totally in shape for adventure! Wario couldn't believe how crass and insulting she was, the absolute dried seaweed brain! And so greedy, too! Greed never paid.
Her weight shifted on him as the other foot plowed forward, a step in the distance sending a shake through the overall-clad backside. It signaled another timber-shivering ascent of her leg, stretching a great distance out. Diminished arms reached out to block the oncoming, light-brown deck. He concentrated his amazing might into the push, trying to force against the crippling weight...
...And failed. His arms gave out.
SLAM.
With each step, he got a moment where the pedal pressure pushed deep into his chest. He'd get an excruciating moment to prepare for the incoming foot. A second of freedom, a single breath of salty sea air, and his nerves set into motion, trying to prepare. And inevitably, with another SLAM, Syrup covered him, the man becoming a pancake.
Finally, the door to the captain's quarters swung open. His tiny, eggshell eyes couldn't glimpse anything but dirty shoe; still, he felt it, sensed it nearby.
Cash.
Emperor Vespasian of Rome once said, "Money has no smell". If you asked our avaricious hero, Emperor Vespasian of Rome was full of garbage. Money, to his careful snout, had the delightful odor of a spring day in a monsoon; the lovely stink of home-cooked curry with garlic bread; the head-lightening stench of a new car, filled with a full set of newly-unpacked Amiibos.
This room reeked of money. Each time her foot raised, he felt its warm gleam touch him, the light reinvigorate him.
THUMP.
Captain Syrup rested in her room, locking the door. Gravity slowly re-oriented itself to the swaying of the boat. Forwards, backwards. Her leg muscles shifted slightly with each pull and push. It was so subtle a change, one that detectable only by a specific man - one sensing each subconscious twitch from near her body, reflected as crushing weight on him.
She began what she'd come to the room for...  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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