The next story in the dino verse saga, significantly shorter this time

The thumbnail art was drawn by the awesome  kerjois
who is sharing these characters and their universe with me, and has unfortunately had to move on from FA indefinitely, but all his art has been archived by  kerjois2
check out his drawing here: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/55617057/
And all his other excellent art!

My animation of one of the scenes: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/55449717/

Enjoy :)

At the bottom of a vast, nearly dry riverbed that sprawled through a forest under the clear sky, a Baryonyx pack, four strong, prepared to engage their prey. The family, a mother, father, a curious younger brother, and the older sister named Brook, had weathered a failed Utahraptor hunt from the previous day. Today, their sights were set on a lone Ankylosaurus, an armored behemoth with slow deliberate movements that displayed its might. Its hide resembled a living tank, impenetrable plates, and spikes defending against the dangers of the Cretaceous.

With silent coordination, the family moved in unison, each member taking a strategic position around the unsuspecting Ankylosaurus. The mother, a master of stealth, flanked from the right, her sleek form blending with the riverbank foliage. The father, the strongest and most vigilant, held the left flank, a shadow in the swaying ferns.

The younger brother, filled with youthful enthusiasm, traveled all the way around to the head of their prey, crouched low behind a rocky outcrop, his gaze fixed on the herbivore. Brook, the older sister, had been leading the chase after a slow, overweight Utahraptor during the previous day's botched hunt, when she’d been startled by the sudden ferocity of the other raptor and tumbled back down the rocky slope she had chased them up. Today, a chance at redemption fueled her determination.

As the family encircled their prey, the Ankylosaurus grazed blissfully, oblivious to the impending threat. The barely present river's gentle trickle masked the subtle rustle of the approaching predators.

Then, the sense of stillness and anticipation was shattered as Brook, feeling the need to prove herself as a hunter, leapt from behind a clump of ferns. A blur of blue-green scales, her agile form surged towards the unsuspecting Ankylosaurus.

In a heartbeat, the seemingly docile herbivore transformed into a vigilant defender, its armored form pivoting with unexpected speed. Focused on Brook, who had broken cover first, the Ankylosaurus unleashed its defensive prowess. Its powerful club was poised and ready to strike. Brook, eager and committed, aimed to leap onto the herbivore's back, seeking to attack the vulnerable neck while remaining out of reach of the ankylosaurus’s deadly weapon.

Before she could execute her airborne assault, the Ankylosaurus's tail, a colossal appendage wielded with the grace of a seasoned warrior, swept through the air with deceptive speed and precision. The club connected with Brook's ankles, a crunching impact that sent her sprawling. In a cruel twist of fate, her feet were swept from beneath her, and she tumbled to the ground for the second time in as many days.

Brook landed with a jarring thud, her right ankle twisted at an agonizing angle. Pain flared through her, and the confident huntress found herself grounded, vulnerable, and nursing the physical toll of an unexpected counterattack.

Despite their most enthusiastic huntress being put out of action, the remaining members of the Baryonyx family pivoted seamlessly, adapting to the sudden shift in the hunt. Undeterred, they synchronized their attacks, taking turns assaulting the Ankylosaurus's vulnerable legs with calculated precision.

Each strike was a dance with danger, a coordinated attack that showcased the prowess of the Baryonyx family. While one distracted the living tank with taunting fake lunges, the others targeted the herbivore's vulnerable legs and belly, seeking the gaps in its formidable armor.

Soon, the Ankylosaurus began to falter under the relentless onslaught. The family's concerted efforts wore down the living tank, exploiting its inability to ward off the relentless attacks from multiple angles. The mighty herbivore found itself overwhelmed, its defenses strained to the breaking point.

Sensing the pivotal moment, the Baryonyx family closed in with renewed vigor. In a final, coordinated rush, the pack descended upon the herbivore. Claws and teeth flashed in the sunlight as they targeted vital areas. The distracted and injured Ankylosaurus, its attention divided and its imposing defenses compromised, succumbed to the relentless assault.

Amidst the triumphant aftermath of the hunt, Brook's younger brother eagerly dug into the spoils, savoring the taste of their victory. However, concern was etched into the faces and body language of Brook's mother and father. Despite the successful hunt, the fact that their usually energetic and determined daughter remained on the ground was disconcerting.

Parental instincts kicked in, overriding their inclination to enjoy the rewards of their hunt. Despite Brook being a fully grown adult, every bit as large and formidable as them, the protective nature of the Baryonyx family hadn’t deterred them from continuing to look out for their daughter. They approached her, leaving the carcass of the Ankylosaurus behind.

To their relief, Brook was conscious, her vibrant blue-green scales still catching the sunlight. Yet, as their parental gazes fell upon her, it became evident that something was amiss. The usually fierce huntress was grounded, attempting to rise but faltering each time.

Closer inspection revealed the source of her struggle. Her right ankle, while no longer twisted at an unnatural angle, was now swollen and clearly painful. Despite the pain, Brook persevered, attempting to rise with each attempt met by the unforgiving reality that her injured ankle couldn't bear her weight. It was merely a few torn muscles that could very well heal given time, but in an unforgiving prehistoric world, not being able to move could be a death sentence.

Worry etched the features of the parental Baryonyx pair. They calmed their daughter with subtle sounds and gestures, their protective instincts heightened. They communicated that she needed to stay still to heal. The parents knew instinctively that an injury that prevented her from walking could easily be fatal if she was not able to get food and water. Luckily for Brook, the spot she had collapsed was within very easy reach of the trickling remnants of the massive river that had carved this canyon, so she wouldn’t suffer from dehydration.

Determined that their daughter would survive this disaster, while her mother stayed with Brook to keep her calm instead of struggling to rise, her father tore off a hefty chunk of the Ankylosaurus’s now exposed belly and dragged it across the rocky ground to place it in front of Brook’s muzzle, who reluctantly began to eat, beginning to understand that her parents would ensure she would survive this injury.

Over the next couple of weeks, the Baryonyx family shifted their daily routine to prioritize the care of their injured daughter. They constructed a plush, comfortable nest of ferns and moss from their surroundings for her to recover in. Brook's family, guided by protective instincts, took turns caring for her. Each member assumed responsibilities, usually her parents were out hunting for food while her younger brother contributed by standing vigilant watch for other predators.

Understanding that nourishment was important for Brook's recovery, the family adopted an approach of abundance. Food was the only way they instinctively knew to aid in her healing, so it became a constant presence. Each time her parents ventured into the surrounding wilderness, they returned with more than ample offerings to fortify Brook's strength, and then some, as well as feed the rest of the family.

Of course, Brook's daily routine was the most heavily altered by her injury. No longer constrained by the demands of a relentless hunter's life, she found herself at the center of a nourishing embrace. Multiple meals per day became the norm, far surpassing her usual caloric intake, while she did nothing besides rest and wait for her injured ankle to recover.

In the weeks of recovery, Brook's figure underwent a gradual transformation. The sleek, toned muscles that once defined her physique gave way to the accumulation of soft, yielding flesh. Around her limbs and joints, the beginnings of fat rolls were becoming visible as the excess flesh started to push up against itself. On her arms and legs, a hint of plumpness had emerged, and her previously muscular limbs now harbored a visible layer of soft fat. Her legs, designed for agility and power, had begun the gradual formation of softness. Her tail, once a sinewy extension of predatory prowess, had accumulated a discernible cushioning of extra weight.

Her neck, once firm and streamlined, witnessed the subtle emergence of a soft layer of chins and fat rolls. The transition from lean muscle to pliable softness was evident, altering her once angular shape into a more rounded silhouette. The robust muscle that once facilitated swift movements now hosted the beginnings of delicate folds, each contour revealing the effects of prolonged rest and abundant nourishment.

With her injury on the mend, Brook found herself in a state of relaxation and indulgence that she had never experienced before but found quite enjoyable, thanks to her family's almost obsessive care. The nagging pain in her injured joint had dissipated, and an instinctual awareness whispered that she could stand and support herself effortlessly. Yet, she ignored that instinct, knowing that as long as she kept acting injured, her family would keep spoiling her.

Brook's family, confused by her apparent lack of progress toward recovery, fell back on the only method they knew to provide care, doubling down on her feeding routine. The riverbed echoed with the sounds of their calls and the rustling of ferns as they tirelessly ventured into the surrounding wilderness, returning with an even more substantial bounty of food.

Calories piled upon calories, as they continued to bring her meals fit for a creature much more active than Brook had become. The lushness of their environments' flora seemed to pale in comparison to the abundance laid at her feet.

Her days were now marked by a continuous cycle of indulgence, each meal further contributing to the layers of fat that had become a defining feature of her once athletic frame, and making her less inclined to resume any physical activity. The confusion within her family manifested in their unwavering efforts to ensure she lacked nothing in terms of sustenance.

With every passing day, Brook found herself sinking deeper into the embrace of her sedentary existence. The riverbed, once a domain of dynamic life, now cradled a creature that seemed to defy the ancient dance of predator and prey. As her family persisted in their feeding routine, they simply enabled Brooks newfound gluttony further and reinforced the perception in her mind that there was nothing wrong with her new lifestyle.

Long after Brook's injury had fully healed under the almost obsessive care of her family, she continued to pile on extra weight. The abundance of calories, more than sufficient for her recovery and then some, had led to a rapid change in her physique. No longer even slightly recognizable as a lean and agile predator, Brook had become quite obese.

Her once toned limbs now bore the soft burden of excess adipose tissue. Her thighs, no longer tough and muscular, were now adorned with thick rolls of fat that jiggled if she made even the laziest of movements. Her arms, designed to deliver swift strikes in combat, were now soft and rounded, any muscle definition lost to the plumpness that had settled in.

At the center of her transformation was her gut, a burgeoning blob of lard that would have sagged all the way down to the ground beneath her if she could have been bothered to stand and start recovering some of her lost capability. It pooled slightly outwards against the surface of her nest, a monument to the period of inactivity and ample calories. Her flanks, once streamlined, now bulged roundly to either side, showcasing the extent of her newfound softness.

With every rare, reluctant movement, Brook felt the consequences of her altered physique. The weight she now carried affected her strength, leaving her feeling weak and fatigued. As well as her figure, her stamina had also been heavily affected by her period of rest. Her muscles, once honed through a life of vigorous activity, had atrophied with the prolonged relaxation, contributing to the challenge of supporting or even moving her own weight.

Her neck, once defined by a single elegant arch, had transformed into a series of stacked rolls. Extra chins merged seamlessly into the layers of softness beneath, creating a cascade of curves that showed off the sedentary months she had enjoyed.

Several months after her leg muscles had fully healed, practically good as new although quite weak and atrophied, Brook had settled comfortably into her sedentary lifestyle. The once formidable hunter had embraced a life of leisure, lounging in the nest her family had constructed for her. Refusing to put weight on her supposedly injured leg, she reveled in the constant attention and the abundant meals provided by her doting family.

The whole Baryonyx family had adjusted well to this new routine. As long as the surrounding ecosystem continued to support their ravenous and reliant member, Brook's parents felt little pressure to change their established habits. In Brook's mind, this was now the natural order, her family spoiling her, catering to her every need without expecting her to move a muscle.

Her days unfolded in a haze of indulgence. Excessive meals, delivered by devoted family members, became the focal point of her existence, and from Book’s point of view the only purpose her family members had. With each passing day, it grew increasingly doubtful whether Brook retained any mobility at all.

One day as dark clouds began to gather in the sky, heralding an impending deluge, the Baryonyx family felt a surge of restlessness. As drops of rain began to fall, the miniscule trickle of water that wound its way along the rocky bottom of the canyon gradually began swelling into a more powerful stream. Brook's family,who had been enjoying a remarkably peaceful existence for months, now found themselves torn between their instincts.

The rising water presented a dilemma, the primal urge to flee to higher ground clashed with the protective instinct to shield their supposedly injured, actually obese and extremely lazy pack mate. Her questionably mobile form, nestled comfortably in the nest, presented a challenge. Survival instincts, honed through countless generations warred with the familial duty they felt toward Brook.

Antsy and indecisive, the Baryonyx family communicated with increasingly panicked calls and body language, none of them certain if they should run or attempt to help Brook, who was still lounging contentedly in her nest, lazily chewing on a piece of prey her father had brought her earlier that day.

The elements unleashed their fury, and the family's restlessness intensified. Finally, having worked through the problem in his head and arriving at the conclusion that there was nothing they could do for Brook if she was unable to rise to her feet and get to safety herself, her father made up his mind and turned away, leading his fit family members up a steep rocky slope of boulders towards safety.

As the water level slowly crept over the edges of Brook's nest, the once oblivious Baryonyx suddenly found herself in a situation she couldn't ignore. Panic surged through her as the comfort of her nest became threatened. In a sudden realization, she began making increasingly frantic calls for help to her family, who observed the unfolding drama helplessly from high up on the rocky slope.

Months of being spoiled beyond belief had shielded Brook from the harsh realities of survival. The notion that she might need to take action herself to escape the impending danger hadn't yet crossed her mind. Her calls echoed through the rain soaked canyon, a desperate plea for the protection and care she had grown very accustomed to.

On the steep, wet slope, Brook's family, torn between their instinct to aid their helpless relative and their urge to find high ground and ride out the storm, watched as their spoiled and indulgent pack mate finally faced a threat to her cushy existence. It was only a matter of time after all before her luck ran out and survival of the fittest reasserted itself.

In the face of the impending flood, desperation finally spurred Brook into action. The realization that her family was powerless to shelter her from a force of nature forced her to attempt the laborious process of standing, a feat she hadn't bothered to attempt in months. Every inch of progress was an agonizing struggle, her lard bloated body resisting her attempt to rise.

Brook’s weak muscles, atrophied from prolonged disuse, trembled under the weight of her own mass. Every second of exertion was met with a wave of exhaustion, but determination and panic flickered in her eyes. Inch by inch, she fought against the grip of gravity, her breath labored, and her frame shaking with the effort, sending ripples through her abundant layer of fat.

Finally, with a surge of sheer desperation, Brook succeeded. Standing up for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she surveyed the scene around her with a mixture of exhaustion and apprehension at the realization that her struggles were far from over. If she was going to escape the rising water, she was going to have to haul herself over to the rocky slope her family had ascended and attempt to climb up after them. Reluctantly, she weakly lifted one flabby leg slightly off the ground and planted it a little bit in front, taking her first step in quite some time.

Waddling through her waterlogged nest, her movements were laborious and lethargic. Brook now navigated the rocky terrain with a ponderous gait, the weight of her own body a cumbersome reminder of the months of indulgence. Every plodding step set a rippling wave of jiggling lard in motion. Her haunches and rear rear wobbled the most vigorously since any previous hint of muscle tone there had long been replaced with thick rolls of pure lard. The distant rocks, where her family watched apprehensively, beckoned her to safety, but the daunting challenge of a couple dozen steps still lay between her and the base of the slope.

A few labored strides into her monumental exertion, Brook's resolve wavered. Exhausted, wheezing for breath, her heart pounding in her chest and her pulse reverberating in her ears, she quickly came to a stop, having reached the limits of her meager stamina no matter how dire the situation was.

Suddenly, the sound of rushing water grew to a roaring crescendo as a wall of floodwater appeared and raced down the canyon towards the beached, breathless baryonyx. Brook’s eyes narrowed with panic as she saw the approaching torrent and despite her exhaustion managed to take a few more sluggish, desperate waddling steps before she was caught up in the flood water and whisked out of sight of her watching family in seconds. They remained safe from the flood water on their lofty perch on the rocks, but they called out nervously to Brook as she disappeared in the raging flood.

Brook's abundant layer of soft, buoyant fat turned out to be an unwitting ally in the chaos of the flood. As she was swept along, the excess padding shielded her from the brunt of colliding debris and kept her head above water. Despite the dire circumstances, her peculiar physique offered an unexpected form of protection. Her luck had once again protected her from the consequences of her indulgent lifestyle.

Trapped in the raging current, Brook was acutely aware that even a fit and strong Baryonyx, which she most certainly was not, stood no chance trying to swim against the force of the flood. Resigned to the inevitable, she chose not to fight against the relentless water. Instead, she allowed herself to relax, something she was quite adept at, surrendering to the powerful currents that dictated her trajectory as she spun and bounced along, occasionally ricocheting off the canyon walls, her soft padding shielding her from collisions and her buoyant, rotund form keeping her upright like an iceberg.

After several hours of being carried over unfamiliar terrain by the relentless flood, bumping into various other debris and at times spinning madly in the grip of the raging currents, Brook found herself deposited at the base of a line of hills. These undulating formations acted as a natural barrier, halting the now greatly diminished floodwater and the debris it carried. The thick layer of protective blubber that had unintentionally become her safeguard had played a crucial role in her survival, alongside some luck.

As she lay there, exhausted, surrounded by the aftermath of the flood, Brook surveyed her surroundings. The storm that had caused this disaster had already dissipated although everything around her was still soaked as the flash flood was gradually absorbed and evaporated away. The grassy plain stretched out before her, interrupted only by the gentle line of hills that had proven to be her salvation. Just a short distance away, the carcass of a massive, long necked sauropod that had not been as well equipped to survive the storm lay as a silent testament to the ferocity of the flood, and the greedy baryonyx looked at it hungrily, immediately concerned only with replenishing the precious calories this disaster had taken from her.


A week later, Brook's family arrived, their concern turning to relief at the sight of their "injured" daughter, who had weathered the storm due to her uniquely cushioned form. They had begun tracking her down the moment the storm had started to calm, and had eventually caught up to her here. In the shadow of the fully picked clean apatosaurus skeleton, they found Brook, now totally immobilized by far more blubber than she had managed to accumulate when they had lost her.

Her limbs were now bloated with rolls of fat, barely capable of more than feeble wiggling if she even bothered to try. More evidence of her excessive lifestyle manifested in her soft, rounded back rolls that obscured any trace of her once muscular form. Her monumental gut, so immensely fat that it prevented her legs from touching the ground, sprawled out beneath and around her like a throne of indulgence.

As her family approached, Brook's round haunches rested against her bloated torso splayed outwards slightly by the mass of lard, an unmistakable testament to her sedentary existence. Stacks of chins and neck rolls completely obscured her jaw, while chubby cheeks framed her round, cute face that had lost any resemblance to a fearsome predator, and had even begun to slightly obscure her vision.

Greeting them with a belch that echoed through the plains, Brook chirped at her family the way a hatchling would request more food, wondering what they were going to bring her to eat next.