Marcus awoke as the sun fell across his face. His body lay still, but his mind was restless -- as if he had been going and going forever, never able to stop. He forced his eyes open and half-expected Zenna to be gone, but she was still sound asleep, the sheets stretched painfully over her body, her chest alone rising and falling rhythmically.
Up and down, up and down, as if they were inflating and then deflating.
This almost hypnotic motion kept Marcus occupied for a while, but he decided to be first out of bed. He walked over to his armor half-folded across a chair and put it on. It burgeoned around his waist, a sign that he was aging, much to his dismay.
When I return home, I will have this refitted.
He helped himself to some of the food he had purchased the previous night -- hardly more than a few fruits and a bit of salted meat, but he had to spend the rest of his money on Zenna's clothes, and a carriage.
The carriage! It would be waiting for them in an hour. Marcus strode over to Zenna, rubbing her shoulder to stir the elf.
Zenna groaned as she awoke. Normally she would be awakened by the slave-owner clanging metal together loudly, or water being dumped over her and her fellow slaves. This awakening was less rude, but still undesired. She buried her face further in the mattress.
"Zenna, the carriage leaves soon, we must go."
Groaning again, she eventually gave in and began to open her eyes. She turned towards Marcus as he removed his hand from her. She froze momentarily, as she forgot where she was in such an alien environment, but her thoughts returned, and the moment faded. She arose from bed, covering herself in Marcus' cloak. He faced away from her, respecting her privacy.
Not making any further eye contact, Zenna went to the rest room to wash up and relieve herself. Marcus returned to eating his breakfast and reached into his sack to remove some clothes he had purchased the night before. Laying them out on the table, Zenna returned and saw the strange garments.
"I figured you wanted something more conservative than that old rag," Marcus began, "but, sadly, it's very difficult to find someone who sells clothes to fit someone of your...say, shape? My apologies, but I was able to locate some that should work for now. Technically, they are maternal clothes for female orcs, but the dimensions were about as close as I could get, especially on my budget."
Zenna looked upon the clothes with mild curiosity. When she lived in the Hallowmire Forest, her family clothed her in basically whatever cloth would fit, which was not much. Much of her life was spent shying away from others who seemed intent on undressing her with their leering eyes. These clothes before her appeared to be the closest thing to actual clothing she had ever been given, even if they were a vastly different fit than they should be.
"Thank you...?" said the elf with apprehension.
"You are most welcome," Marcus answered, "please try them on and eat something, we have quite the journey ahead, and I can finally answer your questions. I am sure you have many."
Many questions Zenna did indeed have, but she felt as if she had to wait for a better time, where her "master" could properly answer.
She tried on the clothing as best she could, and it flared greatly around her immense bust and her package, let alone her thighs and voluminous behind. Her small waist acted like an hourglass, and so she had to fashion a belt out of some fabric. The material was soft but worn, certainly not new, but she felt a calming warmness she was unaccustomed to, certainly more protective than her previous material. There were also a set of handmade shoes, hardly held together by more than a passing whim, but at least they fit.
Satisfied that her clothing was going to fit as best it could, she turned her attention to the table full of various foods left out for her. A grumbling erupted from her stomach, signaling it was long overdue from the last time she ate. The food, as small as it was, had disappeared by the time Marcus returned from the washroom, cleaned and ready to leave.
"Sorry, should have found you something to eat last night, guess you really were hungry, huh?" Marcus laughed softly, but Zenna did not respond. "I guess that's everything. Let us go."
Marcus checked out at the front desk and the pair proceeded back through town. Zenna followed closely behind Marcus, who was again clad in his cloak over his armor. She mainly kept her gaze on the path they travelled, but she occasionally looked around the street. People were just opening their shops for the day or headed out to whatever their job may be. A few passersby looked in the elf's direction, some for longer than she felt comfortable. Under her clothes, it was difficult to tell her body shape, but it appeared that she was wearing many layers, and a huge, scaffolded skirt, as best as it can be described.
The pair continued out towards the edge of town, where multiple stables which travelers used to shack their horses stood. Others were just arriving after a hard night's ride; others still were departing for pastures new. They eventually came to one of the last stables, where a team of six horses were attached to an enclosed carriage. The cart had seen better days, as had the horses, but it was going to be their ride, nonetheless.
"Ayo! You made it right on time. Ready to go whenever you are! Are you?" the carriage driver said with one long breath. He came off the carriage and dropped himself in front of Marcus and Zenna. The dwarf man hardly came up to Zenna's chest and was even more comparatively short to Marcus. His dark red beard covered most of his face and chest, as his hair covered most of his head -- in fact, you could hardly see more than his eyes. He seemed a younger man, but also had huge, muscled arms which would be better fit on someone twice his size.
"I believe we can go. Are you ready?" Marcus said, turning to Zenna.
She looked up from the dwarf man to Marcus, attempting to read anything his body language might convey, but was unable to detect anything menacing.
"Yes," she said quietly. "I am ready."
"Then we're off! To Underhill we go!" said the driver, who clambered back up the carriage, but looked back once more at the elf, "blue hair, huh? Never seen that before."
Marcus opened the door and ushered Zenna inside, closing it behind them. The carriage contained hardly more than two bench seats facing each other, and a small cabinet for eating.
Marcus sat down and pounded the roof twice. The driver heard the signal and let out a loud "Yahh!" and rapped the reigns. The horses jerked the carriage forward, and they were off.
Taking off his sword and his sack, Marcus settled in, facing the direction of the front of the carriage. Zenna looked from whence they came. He looked back out the window once more as the town slipped away.
"Not going to miss the place, are you?" he asked Zenna jokingly. She did not seem to get it and kept staring out the window. The seat was uncomfortable around her bulging form, seemingly made from wood despite its fabric material. It took her many tries to finally become mildly comfortable, but each bump of the carriage still resonated through her.
Marcus allowed her a few minutes to settle into the ride before speaking,
"May as well get settled in, you know. It takes about a week's time to Underhill," he leaned in closer to her head, "I promised you answers once we were on the carriage, and..." he motioned around, "...here we are. I'm sure you're still apprehensive about the situation, so I'll sit here until you hit me with some questions, alright?"
There was no immediate response. Marcus leaned back against the thin cushion of the seat, attempting to become as comfortable as he possibly could. It also took
him
many tries to become comfortable.
The silence hung over them like a lead weight for nearly a half hour, so Marcus decided to cut the tension, as she clearly would not.
