Layla stared at her quivering lips in the mirror. She could smell the pine walls, even in the bathroom.
The dark-skinned woman rarely showed fear. Her long, jet-black hair boasted one loud streak of neon pink. Her bubbly cheeks curved from her face as if she perpetually smiled, even though her thick, pink lips currently frowned. Those cheeks arced down to a soft chin that padded under her jaw.
Two hefty breasts bulged out from her chest, each almost a foot long. The lethal knockers stretched any shirt she wore; today, they loosened the stitches in her black "Iron Maiden" shirt. Below, her shirt hung loose, hiding a rotund gut that rolled over her pelvis and stuffed the top of her leather skirt. Her tumultuous tummy crooned, angry that it hadn't been fed in 10 minutes. Her waist puffed out to her sides and plopped in slabs over her waistband. Two heavyset arms laid against her sides.
Her ponderous hips flared out to either side, pulling her skirt taut with saddlebags. And behind, her rump quivered in two globes that lifted the hem of her skirt and slacked in creases against her tubby thighs. Her black boots barely zippered on her chubby calves.
A nasaly voice shouted from outside. "Hurry up in there, it's almost time!"
She sighed. "Coming!" She flicked off the bathroom light.
A purple hippopotamus' face stared back at her in the mirror, then instantly disappeared.
She yelped and fell back against the bathroom door, walloping it with her broad ass. She fumbled for the doorknob and wobbled her way out into the wood hallway.
Craig waited outside for her. The tall, spindly ginger held a two-liter of Diet Coke and a pack of Mentos. "I've got the summoning circle prepared in the backyard." He nodded towards an adjacent door. "Ladies first."
Layla's doughy stomach issued another painful grumble. The sensation overwhelmed her, and she paused to grope her gut. Once it passed, she took the knob and opened the door. As she stepped through, her hips came within inches of the door frame on either side.
Maybe the house was small because it was old. 19th century, maybe. People used to be smaller back then.
Anyway, the backyard faced a deep, dark forest. The immediate vicinity had a dirt patch a few meters wide. At its center, a ring of six candles stuck in the ground. Under the cloudy, moonless night, their orange glow provided the only light.
Craig spoke over her shoulder. "You get in the middle and sit."
Layla sat in the center of the candles. Her meaty legs splayed over the ground. Her corpulent gut popped open her skirt and spilled into her lap.
