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Borderlands: The Siren Feeder


Batman76

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I got a story done, which means I can start a new one, right?

if you have never played borderlands, I'll do my best to explain. More action-y than my other stuff in this chapter, less so later. There's no gaining in this one, all just set up and character.

 

Borderlands: The Siren Feeder.

 

You want a story, huh?

 

How about a special story? One about a group of heroes, heroes who saved many worlds from insane social media stars. Don’t like it? Well fuck you, go away then.

 

So for those with taste, the horrible death world of Pandora was home to many a vault, ancient structures left by the vanished Irridian aliens and the substance Eridium. Many ruthless and incompetant corporations, bitterly depressed mercenaries, insane bandits and occasional heroes had fought over Pandora, littered it with so many guns they were sold in vending machines and the greatest of these was the Firehawk, Lilith.

 

A powerful Siren, like a space sorceress but better and with guns and there can only be six of them at once, Lilith at fist glance is a short little petite thing with red hair and heart breaker curves. More like a lost college coed looking to flirt, but you look in those yellow eyes and can tell she’s a killer even before she starts teleporting in and setting bandits and mercs on fire. She’s saved Pandora too many times to count, all while seemingly never aging, and surviving being captured, getting her heart broken and a lot of other morally dubious shit.

 

When our story begins, Lilith is fighting off an invading, billions strong cult led by another siren, Tyreen Calypso and her weedy ass twin brother. Calypso isn’t bad to look at if you don’t mind blondes and psychotic egotists bent on galactic omnicide who make their own social media followers torture themselves to death. Lillith, forewarned by some instinct had called for help from her army, the crimson raiders and given that most of them had disbanded also called on some Vault Hunters, destined heroes.

 

Luckily for everyone,  it turned out there was a Siren among them too. Weird coincidence, don’t look at me. What do you want? Sirens turn up around each other. Its not that forced.

 

But unluckily for the physiques of every woman involved in this story, this Siren’s powers and biceps were only eclipsed by her thirst for fat girls...a thirst that could never be quenched. 

 

…..

 

Chapter 1: Meet the Muscles.

 

‘Lilith’s down! Lilith’s down!’ Squeaked high over the echo-net, the type of voice that had to be pushed past a few square feet of neck fat to be heard.

 

Succulent neck fat, the type that could only be found through a pitiful life of complete laziness and utter disregard for health or speed. Neck fat that grew thicker and thicker, a full on sea of chins and jowls all merged together so thick its owner could barely turn her head. The thought of that fat made Amara fumble reloading her shot gun.

 

‘Oh Ellie, you paen to gluttony, you poem to over indulgence, you symphony of chafing, you concert of jiggling,’ the dark skinned woman thought to herself, ‘oh you will be mine soon...and no longer near so skinny.’

 

‘Gonna turn you into a mule! Where I’m the cat and you’re the mule!’ a stuttering, sun baked, mutant and 80% naked psycho backed up by half a dozen friends screamed, interrupting Amara’s sexy musings less she take a chainsaw or seven to her face

 

‘Oh shut up!’ the siren snapped, muscular legs flexing beneath her purple jeans and driving her into the air, ‘don’t interrupt me when I’m brooding!’

 

Electrical blue energy flared around the tall, brown skin woman, the blue tattoos that ran up her wood cut arms and fearfully ripped legs flaring with lightning. She shot down towards the parched, post-post-post apocalyptic soil of the world of Pandora, three more pairs of pure energy fists emerging from her back. Lightning flared and the insane bandit cultists splattered apart into meat, all save for the biggest one which slammed a giant baseball bat at Amara’s eight pack.

 

‘Go on, hit the hardest part of my body and see what happens!!’ Amara snapped and put a shot gun shell into the remaining lunatic’s masked face, turning his head into mist, ‘Bam, bat proof abs, that’s what happens!’

 

Bullets flared off the sirens shield, draining the barrier at a frightening rate from the swarm of Children of the Vault roaring at her. Amara braced herself and charged, trying to close the range and guessing she wouldn’t be able to before a roar of a gatling gun sounded and the dozen or so cultists burst apart from rifle bullets.

 

‘I don’t think you’ve done quite enough sit ups for them to be bullet proof yet,’ Moze told her, the former Vladof mercenary reloading her assault rifle after suggestively blowing smoke off of it, ‘what’s going on? I’m kinda deaf in my echo-net ear…’

 

‘I was a bit distracted, Ellie said something about ...about Lillith being down!’ Amara realized, no longer too caught up in her own battle lust for punched criminals and sexual lust for quivering fat to avoid the subject.

 

‘The Fire-Hawk’s down?’ Moze asked, tan eyes widening in shock, ‘is that even possible?’

 

‘It shouldn’t be…,’ Amara realized.

 

Amara was a siren, one of the most powerful beings in the known universe. Only six women could be so empowered at a time and the vigilante was a very worthy host. A towering 5’11 feet, her entire body was made out of muscular curves to an almost cartoonish degree and showed off by her outfit. While her pants were relatively loose to allow running and kicking, her staggeringly ripped midriff was on full display, muscles not even bruised after the fight and her torn-sleeved vest displayed ludicrously muscular arms, curved brown hardness from shoulder to finger tip. It would have been easy for the tall woman to be unfeminine or unappealing, but there was no such thing as an ugly siren.

 

The Tiger of Pratil was hotter than the lightning she melted bandits with and knew it. Her hips had a feminine roundness to them, not fat and rock hard but still round, and her high cardio, high weight lifting diet had left her breasts more pert than flat. Nor was her face mannish, her high cheekbones and flawless jawline giving her a noble and elegant face with just enough softness to her cheeks to show that Amara was younger than she pretended to be, a mere twenty one.

 

She was brash, bold and always ran to a fight instead of away from one, having come to Pandora to fight the insane live streaming siren Tyreen Calypso and her billions of cultists just to find a foe that wouldn’t run. But even Amara knew that Lilith, the petite, red haired Siren who’s delicate looks hadn’t stopped her from killing the Hyperion CEO Handsome Jack and armies of his mercenaries and opened several vaults, was a far more powerful siren than her, having fed on the strange element irridium to become planet crackingly powerful. If she was down…

 

‘We need to hurry!’ Amara decided, turning and running face first into the fist of a bandit more mutated than most, a cackling bad-ass psycho with a vestigial left arm and a right one thrice Amara’s body weight.

 

The fighter siren went flying head over heels, phenomenal fighting instincts kicking in to make her land on her feet just in time to see Moze’s machine gun get knocked aside. Amara darted back in, not even using her loaded shotgun to drive the badass back with a kick to the jaw, looking at the giant with a grin.

 

‘At last a real challenge,’ Amara smiled, only for the psycho’s head to explode into blood and brains as a sniper rifle cracked.

 

‘Apologies, my hunts took me farther away than I’d expected. My thirst for murder grows larger every day. Did I miss anything?’ Fl4K asked, a cadaverously thin robot made of patched together parts, carrying an immense Jakob’s sniper rifle and followed by a large monkey with a gun.

 

FL4K didn’t say much and because its feminine curves amounted to 0 and would never change, wasn’t a big part of this story. But It was there, usually murdering.

 

‘Just a nice punch up,’ the siren sighed, ‘come on. Ellie said that Lillith needs our help.’

 

The three vault hunters set to running through the launch sight of Lillith’s space battleship, Sanctuary III. Having fetched and charged the vault key from Pandora, the Vault Hunters, Lilith and her Crimson Raiders had decided to get the hell off the planet, which the Children of the Vault Cult led by the Calypso twins took offense too. Thousands of raiders were swarming into the landing sight, necessitating one hell of a lot of fighting.

 

‘Running out of ammo here!’ Moze called, emptying about two hundred bullets into a swath of bandits.

 

‘Use your hands!’ Amara yelled back, fists a blur of punching, each blow doing as much damage as anything but a grenade to her psychotic opponents. 

 

‘Easy for you to say,’ Moze muttered, staring at Amara’s arms as they flashed, drool pouring down her lip.

 

Moze wasn’t a siren. She was just another former child soldier who’d grown up in a universe full of them, but through consummate professionalism, skill at using her iron bear mech and luck had grown to the grizzled age of 24 without going so bankrupt she couldn’t afford to get her body digitally reconstructed whenever her luck ran out. Unlike Amara she wasn’t in this fight just to punch, but to get paid and retired.

 

And unlike Amara, with her oh so taut muscle and her perfect biceps and her abs you could bounce a Torgue rocket off of, Moze was rather small and petite. Barely 5’ with her combat boots on and slight to boot, she was usually dwarfed by whatever Vladof assault rifle she carried. Her hips were narrow and her boobs small, what little flesh she had mostly sinew. Only some illegally installed strength mods kept her hardy enough for carrying a rifle, grenades and the few thousand bullets she carried usually. Her small heart shaped face was delicately pretty...which didn’t quite admit her personality. Not like Amara’s fierce face or her zero fat frame or her big, heart shaped ass that you could bounce a nuke off...

 

Still, she couldn’t spend so much time drooling around for a sexy girl…bad things could happen.

 

‘Gonna jump rope with your guts!’ a crazed voice yelled from behind Moze.

 

‘Oh fucking shit fuck fuck,’ the Ursus corps mercenary cursed as another giant psycho, how many were on this planet anyway?, charged her from her flank.

 

Letting her rifle hang from its sling, Moze hit a button on her hip and summoned her mech. Ultra-micro 3d light printers summoned steel around her, forming a ten foot high armored shell of stomping feet and a grenade launcher. Moze smiled inside her cocoon of steel, put the targeting array on the nearest psycho’s pelvis and pulled the trigger. Its legs burst into blood and bones and Moze laughed as another grenade was loaded into place.

 

‘Jump that you stupid fucking shit fuck piece of crap,’ the gunner cackled, turning her heavy artillery on the army of psychos.

 

The Iron Bear Mech didn’t have much battery life, Moze was as yet too poor to have it fully extended, and after a few moments it had to de-digitally construct itself, leaving her a short lady with an empty gun at the worst moment with another set of gun toting psychos in front of her. 

 

‘Oh fuck me,’ Moze spat, but Amara’s steel hard knee cracked one’s skull and FL4K’s sniper round got the next.

 

‘Reload faster little bear,’ Amara told her, pausing only to slam a few shells into her Jakob’s shot gun, ‘come on! Lilith needs our help!’

 

A minute and a hundred or so dead cultists later and the vault hunters had gotten to Lilith’s position. The firehawk lay crumpled on the ground: a slim woman with fine bones, delicate curves and full breasts and an oval face locked in pain. To anyone who didn’t know who she was, she’d look unharmed. To those who knew she was a siren…

 

‘Her tatts,’ Amara gasped, looking at Lilith’s perfect skin, which lacked the tattoos that appeared when one became a siren.

 

‘Holy shit, is she even a siren anymore?’ Moze asked, brown eyes wide.

 

Amara remembered when her own had come in a handful of years ago, taking her from starving, pathetic street rat stealing to survive into a goddess of muscle and punching. That they could disappear sent an unfamiliar spike of fear into her belly, followed shortly by absolute anger.

 

‘Lil!’ that fantastically squeaky voice choked, the earth shaking at it.

 

Amara had only met Ellie, the crimson raiders tech wizard a few minutes ago. And while no woman was enough for her permanently, Ellie could take at least a week. The mechanic was wide as she was tall, and given she was six and a half feet...well. Amara had a good rack despite her muscle, but Ellie had more boob weight than Amara had weight at all, giant hooters running out of letters and verging into the absurd. Maybe there was muscle under there, technically there had to be just to keep what Amara guessed was a thousand pounds verticle, but she looked like a brown haired marshmallow in overalls. When she walked it wasn’t a waddle, it was a strange dance of countering her front fat with her back fat and rotating one leg forwards. 

 

‘Oh god the ripples that had to run across that lard, the effort in moving,’ Amara thought to herself, ‘ Ellie, Ellie, what possessed you to eat until you could barely move? Why can’t you eat more?’

 

Amara blinked when she realized that Ellie was speaking to her, lust overriding everything for the chubby chasing Siren.

 

‘You look strong enough, pick her up and get her to the ship! That skinny Calypso bitch stole her powers and sent her army to finish Lil off!’ Ellie huffed, chest rising one tortorous inch as she inhaled.

 

‘But name the task and my every fiber is committed, even if it cost me my life,’ Amara told her, swept off her feet and plucked the bony Lilith from the ground, ‘only tell me what you want and the Tiger of Pratil will do it, no obstacle will stop me!’

 

‘Uh, okay,’ Ellie wheezed, the space red neck slightly confused at the verbiage, ‘just carry the red haired chick, alright?’

 

‘Without pause!’ Amara said too loudly, snatching up Lilith in one arm and cocking her shot gun with the other, ‘Lead on great mechanical genius...I’ll watch your back.’

 

The short journey to the ship wasn’t too far, even if it was somber. Lilith was the best weapon against the Calypso’s and now she was depowered...what would they do? Amara was the only one upbeat, too horny even to feel fear for the state of her own vaunted power. Moze was slightly distracted though, by how much Amara was distracted. The gorgeous siren’s eyes seemed glued to the jiggling continental plate sized couch cushions of Ellie’s ass cheeks. 

 

Already low, the gunner let out a little sigh of disappointment. Opposites really did attract after all, while she was latched onto Amazons it seemed that the first Amazon she’d met was a chubby chaser. In a universe of female mercenaries and extreme poverty/starvation, both were common enough fetishes. Moze’s chats with a therapy bot had traced her desire for a big, strong armed ass kicking girl to her own inadequacy and a desire for someone to protect her, and the amatuer psych in the merc guessed that the iron hard Amara’s fascination with asses the size of small cares and side fat rolls big enough to get lost in had to do with growing up poor and hungry.

 

‘All the good ones are either straight or chubby chasers,’ Moze thought to herself.

 

It was a damn shame too. Amara really was gorgeous, 13/10, ripped to shit yet not gross, one in a trilllion combo. Moze was sure they’d hit it off, trading war stories and stuff, if only she could catch the Siren’s eye a little bit. But she wasn’t as drooling distracted as Amara as they got into the ship, the awakening Lilith surging awake, scared and anger over her depowerment but ready to take the fight back. Moze noticed that during her little rallying speech to the crew, that Ellie had a protein bar in her taut breast pocket and that the commissary bar had a gambling machine full of them…

 

The owner of the Commissary Bar was one Mad Moxxy, Ellie’s mother. Unlike her elephantine daughter, Moxxy had a more commonly appreciated figure. She was like an old style cheese cake model: wide hipped, wasp waisted and huge titted and with a fashion model’s face. Very expensive New-U machine uses every time a wrinkle was so much as spotted kept her looking twenty. As for why she was maybe a tenth her daughter’s size? All down to diet and exercise, Moxxy putting on an air of elegance and publically hating the fattening fried slop of her former tribe.  She always had an eye out for her next husband/wife and the sultry saloon keeper’s eyes were falling hard onto the muscular Amara, wondering what it would be like to run her tongue down that six pack…

 

‘You’re gonna be mine, no matter what I have to do,’ Moxxy promised.

 

Amara for her part had spent Lilith’s speech doing three things. One was isometrically flexing all of her muscles, as she did constantly, to stay in peak form. Two was imagining getting lost in the canyon of Ellie’s boobs. Three was that Lillith, without her powers, still seemed a slight woman in her early twenties, skinny but with good hips and a nice bust.

 

The kind that really would gain well if they suddenly became inactive and depressed...like going from the most powerful woman in the galaxy into a depowered wreck..

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Chapter 2: Ship-Shape pt 1/2

Sanctuary III was equipped with a powerful FTL jump drive that could take the Crimson Raiders straight to their next planetary destination of Promethea in less than thirty seconds. Unfortunately the salvaged warship was a Dahl corporation frigate built before the MegaCorp wars and used heavily in them, before rotting for decades in the Pandoran desert. The Vault Hunters might be suicidally brave but no one would risk a wormhole jump in a ship that had just flown for the first time in a hundred years and had several pipes leaking superheated, sometimes radioactive steam into the crew quarters and while Lilith wanted to get her Siren powers back, she ordered the ship wait in orbit for a few days while its maintenance bots got its chances of flat out exploding into the mere upper double digits.

'Take that mother fucker, take that. Yeah steal that, I said take it!,' Moze grunted, feeling the stock of her new assault rifle slam again and again into her shoulder.

Far fewer of her shots were hitting than normal, this new gun had more recoil than she'd expected. Or something, her aim wasn't up to its usual snuff even when hosing an enemy with lead. Ever since she'd started her stupid, probably doomed plan of fattening up to get Amara's attention she'd felt off.

The ship's lights surged and the petite gunner felt herself float into the air, her spent shells suddenly orbiting her.

'Fucking piece of shit ship,' the Vladof gunner muttered to herself, feeling her shirt drift upwards, 'can't even keep artificial grav on to save its life.'

The flat chested woman rarely wore a bra, but still felt her boobs push upwards, while her t-shirt drifted up past her belly. Moze grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it down, feeling her callused hand push against her stomach. Two days of buying technically expired Atlas protein bars every time she'd gone by the usually avoided vending machine wasn't doing much but making her bloat.

'Better than nothing I guess,' Moze sighed, patting the taut slope of normally concave stomach, 'hopefully Ms. Huge-Abs is attracted to bloated bellies and not just softness.'

There wasn't an inch to pinch on Moze's belly, despite it bulging out three inches past normal the new addition was all temporary bloat. Stuffed tight from the protein bars, it was no longer meeting the hem of her painfully tight combat pants. A few more pinches gave no softness, if anything it was harder than Moze' normal waistline for the skinny soldier had difficulty keeping on weight of any form, fat or muscle.

'This will probably all burn off the minute I stop,' Moze grunted, pulling another bar out of her back pocket, 'these things aren't even that good. Seriously, coconut?'

Frustrated and still floating in zero G, she pushed herself off of the ceiling so as not to injure herself in a fall and adjusted the carrying strap of her machine gun across her boobs.

'I've had like forty of these things and not worked out. They say they're supposed to have fast results,' the iron bear mercenary scowled, feeling something was wrong, then looked down to see her rifle strap was cutting into her right breast.

'That is new,' Moze said, eyes lighting up at the sight of her nipples pressing through the thin fabric, 'oh fucking boy is that new.'

It took a moment for the gruff merc to touch them. A life time of short rations and hard work had left the skinny soldier with nary a chance to properly fill out in any direction, but now a second puberty had given her bustline a new lease on life. When her callused fingers at last tested her chest, Moze found herself holding a pert pair of B cups. Nothing magical about them as she gently squeezed and poked, just firm handfuls where once tiny A cup mosquito bites had barely risen. A kick found her floating in front of the bullet proof glass separating range from hallway, showing that her nipples were about to cut through her T-shirt.

'I've got a rack!' the gunner exclaimed, biggest grin in years splitting her face as she shifted her shoulders and made the new tits bounce.

Not a huge rack, not even medium. Save for maybe the insane Tanis, she still had the tiniest tits on the ship. Even Amara, who had seemingly 0% body fat everywhere else, had a upper end C cup.

But it was a big change for the tiny gunner, who'd been thinking of quitting eating the frankly untasty bars.

'Not bad at all,'  Moze grinned, only to see her pert boobs get just a little less pert.

The artificial gravity turned back on, making her slam ass first into the hard metal deck.

'Why couldn't I get some padding there,' the still mostly bony Moze sighed, patting her ass and reaching for another protein bar only to find her pockets empty, 'thought I had more of these...'

....

When the artificial gravity turned off, Amara sighed, let go of the pull up bars and twisted gracefully in the air of her quarters.

'Interrupting my work out, this ship's engine should shudder in shame,' the muscular siren tsk-tsked, 'I've only been at pull ups a bare hour.'

Since they'd reached the, relative, safety of the ship, Amara hadn't been staying in shape. She never in fact stayed in shape, not since she'd gone to bed a skinny, scared, starving nerd in the slums one night several years ago and woken up with a set of glowing siren tattoos down the left side of her body. Every day she woke up more in shape than she had the day before, joyfully pressing, pulling, curling, squatting, crunching, pushing, bending and stretching at every bare moment in order to make her body ever stronger, faster, harder and better. She enjoyed the exercise the way nymphomaniacs enjoyed sex, her siren powers turning up the endorphins and flooding her with growth hormones that prevented her waking up sore. Exercise to her was easy as pie, not that the siren had ever eaten any, and she'd spent long, long, long hours since the ship finally took off further honing herself. It was 2 pm shipboard and Amara had been exercising since before 6 am without feeling tiredness, her muscles growing stronger and stronger as she ran and lifted.

'Knew I needed resistance bands just for this,' Amara promised herself, running hard finger tips over her muscular curves, up the squat thrust bulges of her thighs, through the canyon of her yoga carved hips, up the hollow of her two thousand crunch a day stomach and cupping her lovely C cups, which were so firm zero-g had barely changed how they sprang from Amara's pectorals, she felt satisfied and happy with her hardness, always grinning in joy at her amazing power, yet also wanting ore, 'now I've got nothing to do...but plan...'

Amara preferred to exercise in the nude, the better to study herself in the mirror. Not to look for any imperfections, but just to admire herself. While some of her runaway fat fetish was surely a result of having grown up without a full belly until she was sixteen, Amara's main inspiration was to see the contrast between her lethal perfection and a partner's bloated, lazy helplessness. The bigger, fatter, weaker and more decadent her lover, the more Amara was turned on by the contrast. She remembered her first girlfriends, upper glass groupies gained after her initial rise to fame punching Partali crime lords to pieces and how she'd thrill at seeing their squishy pot bellies, a sign of wealth on an over populated world, wobble against her then hard four pack. That someone would have the chance to get strengthening protein and skim milk and instead eat muscle hiding carbs and fat bulking sugar, to see the road to strength and go down the one to weakness out of convenience and gluttony...

Well, just thinking about it got the Tiger wetter than Pandora during the every other century raining season.

The Tiger dove down to her bed, snatching a sleeveless bath robe that was floating in the air and pulling it on. Her one weakness from her spectacular muscles was that Amara couldn't deal with cold very well, her body rapidly getting chilly when not actively exercising at a comfortable temperature. Flipping gracefully through the air and floating above her bed in a lotus position, the siren used her phasecast telekinesis to pull her personal fat fetish notebook from under the pillow. She flicked the book open, turning until she got to Lilith's entry. earned through two days of careful observation at meals and carefully asking several Crimson Raiders what Lilith liked most to eat and what she avoided at all costs.

Memories had been drudged from games of Bunkers and Badasses, gained from threatening the annoying robot clap trap, as well as some very, very deep echo-net dives. Like most people in the unnumbered trillions of the galaxy, pre-siren lilith was a ghost, only becoming noticeable when she'd developed fire hawk powers and Lilith had been careful to hide them. But before becoming the goddess of muscle that she was now, Amara had been a skinny nerd who hoped to be either a computer engineer or a doctor if she grew up before her real dream of punching the shit out of bad guys came true.

While her nutritionist skills had come in useful, to the detriment of a lot of waists and the fueling of her own muscular growth, her computer skills weren't as much use. But she'd still managed to due several very deep dives on Lilith's possible identities, narrowing down one Lillian Parker, then 24, who'd disappeared from the cushy corporate world of Elysium 7 right before Lilith had burst upon Pandora twelve years earlier. Try as she might, Amara couldn't find a picture...but could find an employment record at a nerd shop, numerous purchases of bunkers and badasses or comic book related paraphernelia, doctors prescription's for very thick corrective eye glasses, an asthma inhaler and acne meds, several returns emailed  to cheap clothing stores that didn't carry sizes below a 12 and a lot of loyalty rewards to candy stores, bakeries and ice cream parlors. Really not the activities of the porcelain doll thin woman Amara had carried over her shoulder.

'You haven't hidden you used to be a nerd, Fire Hawk,' Amara smiled, perfect teeth glowing in her darkened quarters, much like a tiger in the bush seeing a limping deer, 'I remember all those bunkers and badasses rule books and comics in your room when I put you down to rest. Easy to brag on being the nerd girl when you've got perfect skin and a 22 inch waist, just like the sorceress characters you play as. Does a Siren's desire of perfection shape who she becomes I wonder?'

It made Amara think. She'd always wanted to be strong, tough, a triumphant heroine punching her way through waves of enemies and lo and behold, her siren powers were closely focused on that. Lilith had been much more like a fantasy sorceress: capable of teleporting and throwing fire, but delicately gorgeous, save for a big pair of ripe D cups.

'Food for thought...and food for you,' Amara noted, easily falling to her feet as the artifical gravity turned back on, taking out her echo-net communicator and beginning to make some orders, 'lots of food for you. Chocolates first, chocolate should always be the first course when fattening a beauty. You'll tell yourself its just one bite and it will be, one bite by one bite, one box by one box. Chocolate's good for you, high in anti oxidants and it'll give you back that awkward nerd girl belly, bloat out that point jawline and give you back your acne. I'm so sorry to add to your cares Lilith, but I'll make you love it and when we're done, why I'll get you your powers back and you can go back to being a perfect porcelain doll. Knowing it was my doing and remembering my touch, my food in your mouth, what I made you and wishing you could go back to it.'

The digi-structor in the Siren's room poured to life, flashing light as it printed out box after box of chocolates. Amara moved them over, feeling less temptation to eat one than a big cat would feel to eat broccoli. That was the food of her chosen prey, not her.

Stroking her hands, one glowing with blue tattoos, through her dark hair, Amara walked across the room to her dresser for her best abdominal baring, torn shirt, noting she'd left the door open. She often forgot to close it, having no sense of modesty or shame will do that to you, and stopped as she saw Moze walk by, smelling like gunsmoke, and immediately stop, head jerking around to see the dusky Amazon wearing only a 90% open robe, her abdominals a line leading up to her full breasts. The Siren smiled at her, putting her hands on her hips and licking her teeth as she noted the bloat at Moze's waistline and the new pop to her boobs, starter weight.

Moze was a trusted, if somewhat new, comrade. A skilled gunfighter who had her back. A tough and determined vet in her own right, technically years Amara's senior although the young siren preferred to pretend to be an ageless immortal. But Amara's highly advanced fat fetish made her notice the tiniest of gains and when a woman had been a stick three days before and now had starter boobs and a bloated belly...well, Amara was going to notice.

'Evening Moze, how are you finding the ship?' Amara asked, pressing in on her, the heat of her body making the gunner break into a sweat, 'looks like you've been training hard despite the interruptions.'

'Uhhhh,' was all the half-pint mech driver could manage, so stupefied by the amazonian siren near naked at close range, that if Amara had thrown the robe open and said 'take me' she wouldn't know what to do with her.

Amara put her arms, heavy, powerful arms, over Moze's shoulders and bent low, fantastic bosom right in the gunner's face, 'Looks like you're bulking up a little. Better to carry all that ammo, right?'

'Y-yeah,' the mercenary managed, grasping onto the excuse and hoping you couldn't get so wet you died of dehydration.

'I'm glad for you, its always great to see someone decide to dedicate themselves to growing stronger,' Amara went on, running her finger tips over her abs, down and down to where her robe was barely tied together, 'especially right at the start. Where there's so much potential to see just how big the new body builder is going to get, to see if all those results will pay off. Don't you think?'

'Oh yeah, they've really paid off for you...,' the gunner said, trying to decide whether to look at the coiled pythons of the arm on her shoulder, the one tracing Amara's lower abs or the tits slowly rising up and down as Amara breathed and going cross eyed.

Amara smelled like a weight set, like cold iron and crisp copper and hard earned salt and the smell drove Moze insane. Moze smelled like gun powder and protein bars that had far too many carbs, the muscle covering sleeves of food groups, but to Amara it was like meat in front of a tiger. She had a, well, Lilith didn't yet know it was a date, at Moxxi's in a few hours but she'd never been good at delaying gratification if it was at hand.

'Why don't I show you,' Amara growled, pulling the shorter vault hunter into her room without resistance, 'and I can give you some tips.'

'T-tips?' Moze managed, hearing the door close behind her.

'Later metaphorical ones, about the best way for you to bulk,' Amara cooed, cracking her knuckles, 'First I have to give you forty very literal tips.'

'F-ff-forty?' moze stammered, trying to figure out how to get her damn rifle strap off from her shoulders.

'Eight times five,' the Siren grinned, dropping her sleeveless robe and summoning her astral arms, 'can't you do math?'

Six corded, exercise hardened limbs made of blue light formed from Amara's shoulders. They snatched up chocolate boxes and candy trays, a donut box and a large bottle of champagne, food that had been meant for Lilith later. Fortunately a few quests on Pandora and heavy backpack of loot had given the Siren plenty of spare cash to spend bulking out her ship mates. She picked up the junk food and sashayed at the trembling, unbelieving Moze, who couldn't figure out whether to stare at Amara's high breasts or follow the path of her abs down to her tantalizing sex or see the flex of her biceps or the graceful step of her legs.

'Fuck no, not at the fucking moment,' the gunner stammered, as Amara's real hands cupped her face.

'A word of warning,' Amara told her team mate, 'I've got some excess energy today and am going to use you like a piece of exercise equipment to burn it off. You might be slightly shocked and bruised but I'll prevent you from being injured. Do you still want to go on?'

'I'm fairly certain I will die if I don't fuck you right now,' Moze said, scrambling to undress before one energized arm touched her lips with a faint crack of electricity.

'No, no, the fucking will be mine to do first, little bear,' Amara told her, 'you need only relax for now. You are bloated, when did you last eat?'

'Yeah, some protein bars not long ago,' Moze managed as Amara's real arms ripped her shirt apart with a flex of hard fingers, while two energy arms delicately popped chocolate covered cherries into the gunner's mouth.

'Then this won't last nearly as long as it could be,' Amara smiled, kissing her on the forehead, 'but I'll make every moment worth it.'

'Hey, that was from my vladoff days,' the merc tried to say, only for Amara's real finger tips to trace their way across her bloated belly and gently undo her pants.

The siren kissed her, tracing down the sides of her face, down her neck, across her breasts and over her bloated stomach, before ripping apart Moze's underwear. Every kiss left a small pop of static electricty from Amara's lips, while her real arms gently, oh so gently rubbed Moze's back and ripped her panties in half. The gunner could barely keep track of it all, a slow but steady stream of chocolate covered cherries being popped into her mouth just as soon as she finished one. Before she'd never liked chocolate, but now it was her favorite food. Moze's cheeks turned red, sweat broke out on her brow and her nipples poked outwards, her already bloated waist began bulging out farther, the rich chocolate mixing with base protein bars to create quite the reaction.

'In my experience, short women will first gain in the chest or in the hips, with their gains staying there for quite a while,' Amara breathed in her ear, a pair of her fake arms supporting the increasingly limp gunner, 'you seem to trend towards the breasts.'

Amara's mouth found Moze's rock hard nipple, supporting the twitching gunner with her arms as her tongue teased and flicked. She brought the eager gunner to the edge of orgasm with just the left nipple, then gently pulled away.

'Its early days yet, but if you follow down this path you might find yourself with weight gain activated gigantomastia,' the siren said to the moaning short woman, 'I recommend exercises to strengthen your shoulders while you are still small.'

'o-k-kay,' Moze groaned, trying and failing to pull Amara's head up to her tit, 'more, please, more.'

'Not yet, not yet,' Amara told her, beginning to kiss her stomach, the feel of her lips on the drum taut skin making Moze give a high squeak of joy, 'drink first. The alcohol will lower your inhibitions.'

'They can't get any lower,' the short brunette insisted, swallowing another cherry.

What was that now, thirty? Her belly felt ready to pop...

'Not sexually,' the naked Amara smiled, pressing in close, feeling the gunner's taut gut, stuffed with fattening and weakening decade press against her own perfect abdomen, 'I know I am so glorious as to need to encouragement. No, I need your appetite raised.'

There was a pop of a cork and Moze found a small bottle of champagne at her lips, the bubbly liquid pouring down her lips to soak into her stuffed stomach. Amara had taken that chance to go lower, picking Moze up with ease and wrapping the skinny brunette's legs around her own head. Amara's kissed up Moze's still slender thighs, working her way closer and closer to the gunner's clit  to the later's ever growing anticipation. The Vladoff mech driver's head swam, her heavy intake of food not quite soaking up the alcohol and groaned with joy as the set of hands that had held the booze began gently fondling her tender nipples, while the other two pairs of magical fingers kept feeding her chocolate and Amara's real arms held her scrawny body up.

'Worship me,' Amara cooed, tongue darting out to lick the smooth line of Moze's slit.

'Worship? Oh fuck fucking yes I'll worship you if you, oh fuck!' Moze silently screamed as the tongue found her clit with a spark.

'You havne't proven yourself yet,' the siren said, leaning in and kissing her friend in between the legs again, 'you have to show me your devotion.'

'Anything!' Moze gasped, trying not to scream as she felt the tip of Amara's tongue hit her clit while her forehead rested against the lower slope of Moze's swollen gut.

'I know you will,' Amara thought but didn't say, for the short woman in her arms was having a full on orgasm in record time, her hair standing on end as the dark Siren's tongue funneled lightning into her body.

When Moze couldn't even support herself, leaning forwards against Amara's head and whimpering, the buffer woman gingerly laid the exhausted, sweating gunner down on her bed. The siren smiled, feeling confident and pleased with herself for so effortlessly begging and pleasing another lover, even as she knew that the chances of having this one bed her in record time. Not the conquest she'd expected for right now, and certainly on the smaller side of what she liked, but she'd have bet pull ups to push ups that her partner was dedicated now.

'Better eat well little Bear, winter is coming,'  Amara sighed, realizing that while she remained unfired so to speak, she had time to fully finish her arm work out before her shower.

....

Moze woke up in the dark, not saying much since they were in space.

Her head swam, her mouth was dry, her stomach hurt like it had been shot and every few minutes her clit would send a spasm of aftershock joy through her body, pulling her legs up to her immensely bloated gut. The gunner put a rough hand on the sphere that had been concave a few days ago and groaned at thinking how many calories were in it, only to find a letter perched on the sphere. Fumbling with a light, she got it open:

'Moze,

You're set to become extremely strong. Ensure you eat a stick of butter at breakfast and dinner and your strength will grow and grow, do ensure your shoulders and back can take it though,' Amara had written in purple, 'For now though, I cannot give you a training session until I see at least twenty pounds of results on your lifting. Find those and I will happily give you a session and until then will happily talk to you, but in that session, you will demonstrate everything you learned today and have thought of in between. I cannot commit to just you, when so many need my help though...

Unless you can show me four hundred pounds of results,

Signed,

The Tiger.'

It gave the gunner a lot to think about. Like, did she really want to continue this relationship with a woman who near flat out said sh was going to pursue others? Or signed her letters, 'The Tiger?'

Of course she did.

'Real question is how I'm going to get into my pants,' Moze groaned, looking at the 9 month paunch compared to her size zero combat pants.

 

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'So what is this dice for?' Amara purred, tough finger tips picking up a twelve sided dice.

'Well, killer that one is mostly for berserkers, it's their hit die but it's for bigger weapons like great axes or great swords,' Lilith began explaining.

It wasn't that Amara wasn't paying attention to the former Sirens' words as the red head explained how the extremely over complicated Bunkers and Badasses game was played. She'd been a nerd in her former life, although one far more impoverished than Lilith had been obviously, and could follow the rules pretty easily. But she was also playing a game of her own, one with far bigger stakes than just role playing.

'I think I'll be a ranger,' Amara decided, picking up a carefully painted model.

'Really? With the punching, a monk is what I'd have you figured for,' Lilith objected, through a mouth full of chocolate.

'I like the hunt, learning the habits of the prey, tracking it to its lair, finding the bait and then, striking,' The muscular Siren said, tensing her leg muscles to keep working her quads at all times.

They were in Lilith's quarters, with B&B rule books and character sheets laid out. Amara had learned enough about it in her echo net dives to ask all the right leading questions, to get Lilith's mind focused away from her depowering and more importantly what she was eating. It was working, the depressed, shoulder slumped woman who'd walked into Moxxi's dive hole of a bar with her had become more chipper and giggly. 

A large box of chocolate covered cherries next to the red head, that Amara had claimed was for both of them, was already 3/4s empty despite the carb heavy appetizers that Lilith had consumed in Moxxi's. Depression can cause either a loss of or rise in appetite and the tan Siren's heart purred in happiness that Liith was in the later.

'So, is this what you did before you were a siren?' Amara asked her, adjusting how her vest sat just enough to show off her excellent rack to keep the question from being depressing. She'd noticed Lilith glance a couple times and although her dating history was previously only men, no one was that straight. 

Lilith's eyes widened at it and Amara knew she'd almost hit a nerve, reminding the red head that she wasn't the all powerful Firehawk anymore. But the bottle of champagne was tempering the redhead's mood. It turned out that Lilith was quite the light weight, given that she was a 120 lbs soaking wet not a surprise. Her arms were delicate tooth picks, her legs graceful and nimble but without muscle or fat, her hips wide only in comparison to her tiny waist. Excellent breasts though, perfect DDs that would be fake on someone else but that Amara could tell were real just by the way they pushed at Lilith's shirt. 

'Twice a week. I rarely had time after becoming a vault Hunter and then the fire hawk and then leader of the Crimson Raiders,' the red head admitted, sipping cola from a cup and taking another chocolate, 'everything was always onto the next crisis and there were only a few times I could play.'

Twice a week? And if she ate like that and drank that much soda and ate that many sweets each time, she must have been a regular butter ball. Oh Gods of Partali, to see that slim hour glass return to its dumpy, lumpy destiny...

'You should organize a game here,' Amara insisted, 'you've got the time now and while we're fighting the calypso twins, there's some off time between planets.'

'I don't know, it seems kind of wrong to do it while the galaxy is in crisis,' Lilith said, 'I feel I should do more...but it's not like I can...Ugh, I should have teleported away or set the twins on fire...'

'It's easy for sirens to get cocky. I almost got killed on my first drug den bust,' Amara said, remembering the first time she'd been hit with a shot gun blast to the sternum, 'but you've got me at your back. When we find the twins again I'll kick their asses hard enough you get your powers back. Until then, well...think of it like any other injury. This is time for recovery. Think of it like a vacation.'

'A vacation? Running an intergalactic resistance is a vacation?' Lilith snorted, taking another drink. 

'Compared to 24/7 gun fights? Of course it is,' Amara insisted, 'take some time to yourself, put things in perspective, get some sleep. You look run down.'

'I feel run down, it's like I don't have any energy since I lost my tats,' Lilith said, stroking the arm that had previously glowed blue while chewing her twenty first chocolate cherry, 'I can barely drag myself out of bed.'

'Best to sleep in then. Now, tell me if this character sheet is right...,' Amara told her, sliding across the sheaf of papers full of math that were somehow a dangerous archer and tracker.

'Hmm, everything seems right. Are you sure deceitful is the best thing to take on a martial character?' Lilith asked, squinting a little at the numbers in the poor light, 'are you gonna...*hic* are you gonna lie to the goblins you won't shoot them...*hic*'

Was her eye sight, corrected by her siren powers, already falling back to the 120/20 it had been? Amara's always steady heart beat thundered a little faster, picturing Lilith with coke-bottle specs and then adding in a hundred pounds of geeky nerd blubber. The thought set her panties damp, but it didn't distract her from swapping out the emptied chocolate cherries with another fresh set while Lilith looked at them. The redhead picked up another one immediately, not even noticing the switch just like she hadn't noticed the first one.

'Oh I'm sure it will be quite useful,' Amara purred, mind whirring through ideas.

A frequent game of B&B would require Lilith to spend a lot of time writing. Which meant a lot of time on her butt, which would mean a lot of time around snacks. The ex-siren was getting increasingly boozed up and as soon as she passed out, the muscular Amara was going to seed this room with candy. Lilith wouldn't be able to turn her head without seeing chocolate in front of her and was already a relapsing chocoholic.

'Well, if you're sure,' Lilith said, eating another one and then taking another drink of champagne, 'ohh, this is getting to me...'

'Might be a good idea to hit the hay then,' Amara purred, 'do you need help getting to bed?'

'I think I can still make it fifteen feet...whoa,' Lilith tried to deny, only for her unsteady legs to give out beneath her, the booze hitting her harder than expected.

Amara snapped her up in a bridal carry, which let Lilith's puffy, bloated, taut stomach press against the browner woman's sensitive chest. Already the Siren was thrilled at the contrast, Lilith so pale and delicate, barley nto giving into despair while she was so dark and mighty, powers sky rocketing...and the redhead's tummy was full of fattening goodies. At least two thousand calories worth not counting the two bottles of champagne she'd knocked back, she really must have been a piglet pre-siren powers to not notice the three boxes of chocolate she'd eaten.

'Here, let me help you get changed into pajamas,' Amara insisted, gently placing Lilith onto the bed.

'Sounds good...man you're strong,' Lilith giggled, pinching Amara's steely bicep, 'how are you so buff?'

'Dedication,' Amara said, opening up Lilith's drawers to see mostly lingerie. A lot of lingerie.

Black and lacy. Red and lacy. White and lacy. Thongs. Crotch less. Corsets. Bustiers. Under wires. Fuzzy handcuffs.

'Someone has excellent taste,' Amara chuckled, 'but that's for later.'

She got Lilith into pajama bottoms, the pale, bloated belly making them not meet her t-shirt. Amara vowed that if she had her way, it never would again.

'Thanks,' Lilith gurgled as Amara tucked her in, edging the blankets tight around the temporarily slim outline of Lil's body against the cold of space, 'this was a fun night...we should do it again...keeps my mind off things...'

'I'll consider that an invitation,' Amara purred, kissing her on the forehead, 'You know I've always admired you. Killing Handsome Jack, opening those vaults...'

'It must be...must be hard to do that now...,' Lilith murmured sleepily, 'now I'm just weak, weak like I used to be...'

'Oh Lilith, I can admire that too,' Amara said, 'I'll admire everything you become.'

'...thanks...,' the redhead drifted off with a smile on her face, 'say could you leave some of those chocolates?'

Amara's grin was a terrible thing, the smile a deer saw as something orange and black sprang from the bushes.

'You can count on it,' the Tiger smiled.

.....

Of course, not all hunts can be successful. 

Hunting down Moze and Lilith, frail and under fed, was easy for Amara. Child's play to get them started on the path to obesity. Moze was doing so willingly and Lilith had lost her very identity with her fire hawk powers leaving, collapsing back towards the timid, chunky nerd she'd been. 

Stalking them was easy, pinning them easy, they were an underfed bear cub and a lost hawk chic after all and Amara was a tiger. But it turned out that her choice target, the six foot five by six foot five square of blubber, fat, lard, tonnage and dough named Ellie was a well fed elephant with its ears up and it's tusks out. 

'Amara, this is a little weird, but I can't help but feel you're trying to butter me up,' Ellie said, munching through a biscuit that was mostly butter.

Amara had burned some more of her cash digi-structing enough biscuits to feed the entire crew.

'Butter you up?' Amara asked, 'I have no idea what you mean, elegant jewel of the desert, Queen of the innermost desires. I would never butter up someone with such divinely inspired beauty as you.'

'You see, you keep using these big ole words around me,' Ellie said, munching another biscuit, the lard hula hoop of her chins flapping, 'and it kinda feels like you're wanting to...what's that word Ma uses...'

They were in Sanctuary IIIs hanger, where the Raider's so far paltry, cobbled together set of vehicles was located. Most of the crew was asleep and Amara, so far two for two, was going for three to three that night. Surely the vast lard ball, who's humped, immense shoulders had more dough upon them than several bakeries, who's titanic Tatas defied basic physics and biology, who's mattress gut was so vast it had swallowed her hips and upper thighs, would be up for an immediate feeding and fucking session.

'Yes, oh pillowy empress of my heart?' Amara said, nearly drooling.

'What was it, Subvert, Survive, nah, Seduce! That's it, seduce me!' The ridiculously rotund redneck rasped.

'Seduce, why Ellie, I mean someone as beautiful as you isn't seduced, they are worshipped, knelt before, sacrificed for,' Amara said in mock offense.

'Oh that's good,' the direct mechanic nodded, finger deep folds forming in her chin fat, 'it'd be awful silly.'

'Oh? Just um, why would it be silly?' Amara asked, feeling a pit open in her stomach.

'Cause I'm straight hon,' Ellie laughed.

Straight.

Straight.

Straight.

A loud 'crack' sounded as the back of the chair Amara had been leaning on broke in her fist.

'So, you don't like girls...,' Amara managed through clenching teeth.

'Well, as people but not all, what's the word, romancically,' Ellie said.

'Apologies, I...need to go,' the Siren said, hurrying away.

'What a strange girl,' Ellie shrugged, sending a minor-tit quake wobbling through her shirt, 'damn good biscuit cook though for how scrawny she is.'

....

Amara found herself back in Moxxi's bar, nursing a carbonated mineral water, the hardest thing she drank.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. The fattest woman she'd ever seen, the fattest woman she'd ever heard of would never want her? It would be enough to make you use a New-U station to change gender but Amara, while depressed wasn't that desperate.

'Damn, damn, damn,' she muttered, draining the mineral water and motioning for another.

'You're knocking those things back pretty hard, Sugar,' Moxxi hummed, appearing at the bar with another bottle of fizzy water, 'if these were anything else I serve I think we'd be using the New-U station.'

'Had a bit of a disapointment tonight,' the Siren admitted.

'Heh, get to my age and you have a lot,' the artificially un aging Moxxi laughed, flashing pearly teeth and inflated tits at her sole patron.

Amara was depressed and dispirited, finding a foe that she couldn't beat no matter her glorious muscles. And she was a chubby chaser extraordinaire. But a nice set of E cups was a nice set of E cups and she rose to the occasion, eyes going from her new bottle to Moxxi's chest and noticing the heart tattoo on it.

The same tattoo that was on Ellie's ZZish cups, if not nearly as distended.

'Sorry to stare but, that tattoo it seems familiar...,' Amara brought up.

'I put them out there for people to stare at, Sugar,' the overly dolled up seductress said with a giggle that didn't befit a woman pushing sixty, even though she looked twenty five, 'don't like to talk about it much, but it's a clan tat from Pandora, Hodunk tribe. I wasn't always so sophisticated.'

'Oh, was Ellie in the same tribe?' Amara asked, 'I hate to bring up someone else but I'd noticed she had the same one.'

'We both were, until I busted us out,' Moxxi remembered, 'back in my gunfighter days. I wasn't going to let my daughter get caught up in that life.'

'Oh...oh,' the depressed Siren's brain lit up.

Moxxi, bizarre as it appeared, was Ellie's mother. Ellie was the size of a house. Ellie got half her genetics from Moxxi. People got fat because of their genetics. QED, Moxxie could get as far as Ellie.

'Say Moxxi, I made a mistake ordering some gun mods on the echo-net,' Amara purred, blatantly staring into the spectacular cleavage before her, imagining it growing and growing and growing, 'and the digi-structor made some chocolate to me. I only eat grilled meat, vegetables and fruit, you wouldn't mind coming back to my quarters and getting it with me, would you?'

'Well Sugar, I'm pretty busy, but I think I can lock up,' Moxxi said, looking around the otherwise empty bar.

If Husband number 8 happened to have an excellent pair of Tits, who cared. The hyper promiscuous Moxxi had done far worse. She was just happy that despite being a couple years past thirty, her fantastic figure still had it. Fighting off her Hodunk fat genes was always hard, but it was glad Amara appreciated the effort. She was sure to burn off any couple pieces of chocolate the brown skinned Siren fed her anyway...

....

'Is it not strange that this is the second woman Amara has led into her bed room this evening?' FL4K asked Claptrap, the pair of robots playing a card game in the crew area.

'Ya got me, the meat people always act so weird around each other,' Claptrap shrugged, 'not appreciating dub step, eating animal carcasses and drinking solvent. You know one of them once told me I was annoying!'

'I cannot imagine why,' the beast master said, setting down his cards to reveal 5 aces, 'what does this combination of cards mean?'

'Oh,' Claptrap said, looking up from a 2, a 5, an 8, a ten and a joker, all from different houses, 'well that's the worst possible combination...'

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Chapter 3: Plunder from Promethea

'The Children of the Vault's main thrust is here,' Lilith said, the holograph map of Promethea displayed in the bridge, 'and its trying to push towards Atlas Corps HQ. The CEO Rhyss is willing to help us out, he knows where the Twins took the vault key and has a fragment of his own but we have to prevent Maliwan from taking over the planet.'

The ex-siren paused, adjusting her normally well fitting but now skin tight pants against her waist. Sanctuary III had managed to make the jump to the Promethea system, but its wonky drive had made it arrive several days from the main planet, having to limp in under an Ellie designed stealth shield through the blockade of the Maliwan fleet. Maliwan (like Atlas, Jakobs, Vladdoff, Hyperion and Dahl) was one of the big mega-corps that ruled the six galaxies and to the Raiders shock its head of Acquisitions Katagawa Jr was working with the Calypso twins and their insane cult to eliminate his competition, the recently reformed Atlas Corp.

Lilith hadn't used the sparse gym on the ship once in that time period, not that she ever had. As a Siren her trim figure had come from exercising her powers, which burned fat like crazy and had rapidly molded her from tubby, round faced nerd into a gorgeous size zero with cheek bones sharp enough to shave with. Those powers and subsequent metabolism were gone now and Amara was making sure that she and the former Siren were having a game or movie night ever single night. Amara always made sure to carry plenty of snacks for the board game sessions, Lilith popping candy into her mouth in between dice rolls or shoveling in buttery, greasy, disgustingly salty pop corn during movie nights. The Tiger was pretty thrilled with how well they were going, Lilith was clearly eating out of both boredom and grief and once she'd passed out every night, Amara made sure to top up the snacks Lil had so greedily gobbled down.

She studied her first week of handiwork, a master studying a block of marble after the first hit of a chisel, seeing the statue inside. Save that Amara wanted to take Lilith's statuesque figure and mold blocks of soft, curvaceous, pitiful fat on to it, covering up her exquisite bone structure and slender limbs. Although Lilith had been plenty lazy and piggish over that week it had only been a week, Amara didn't expect obesity. But the Firehawk was feather by feather losing its concealing plumage, revealing the plump turkey beneath:

Lilith always wore very tight pants to show off her trim legs, but now they were vacuumed on as her legs started to thicken up at ankle and thigh. Her zipper was up and the button was closed, but the flap over the zipper was open and the threads were pulling tight. She'd clearly been proud of her tiny waist line, displaying her whole midriff with a short t-shirt combo but at the moment her belly was plenty bloated from the three tubs of pop corn and six beers she'd guzzled down last night, not to mention some opportunistic snacking that morning. Not spherical by any means, but something that most would keep under wraps until it went down a few inches more. On the pale red head's flanks was evidence the growth wasn't temporary: micro bulges on the sides that spoke of pinch-able love handles and an infinitesimal roll over the waist of her skin tight pants that spoke of a budding muffin top, what Lilith was unconsciously pulling against every few steps. All that stress and sugar was going to put the gut to end all guts onto the Crimson Raiders commander or Amara couldn't dead lift twice her own body weight.

'If we're going to get this vault key back from the Calypsos, we have to help out Atlas,' Lilith said, walking past Amara, 'I need ideas people. You're the best I've got, so I want to hear what you want.'

I want, Amara thought, to spank you and see how soft your ass is getting. Because I can see your panty lines clear enough to guess their color when you turn around. Nice to know you're a thong woman for when I buy you presents.

But the Siren didn't say that outloud, as not to spook her prey. The redhead was already trusting her more and more, as she should given Amara was the most powerful person on the ship. But she was doing so on an emotional level, their first movie night they'd sat at opposite ends of the couch. The second Lilith had pressed up against her and when Amara had complained of cold, a genuine feeling as muscle was a poor insulator, they'd shared a blanket from then on out. Lately Lilith was passing out with her head laying on Amara's muscular shoulder, after an hour of watching B-movie schlock with the Siren's arm around her. The Tiger guessed that soon she'd be asked if she found the Siren still pretty, probably right after she had to get new clothes.

'Simple, we drop pod into their biggest, toughest concentration of badasses and start punching until everything is dead,' Amara said, 'then we kill the Calypsos when they poke their noses in and get you your powers back.'

Lilith smiled, showing how her face was a little swollen from all the sodium uptake with a tiny red spot on her nose that would grow to a pimple in a day or so, the first of a chocolate and stress fueled out break.

'Love the attitude killer, but their front lines have enough Anti aircraft we'd never make it down. If I still had my firehawk powers I'd teleport us down there, but well, if I did this whole thing would be different,' Lilith shrugged.

Amara appreciated the effect even as her idea was shot down. Lilith's boobs were unchanged in their bra, still apparent Ds, but when she'd worn just a t-shirt during the last movie night, Amara had detect a little visible slack in them. The dark skinned siren was a boob woman and got a kick out of foot deep cleavage pillow to sink her face in, but equally the humiliation the glamorous ex-siren must be feeling as every thing else got bigger and her rack started to deflate was delightful.

'To sustain an advance like that, Maliwan must be shipping in a lot of supplies,' Moze pointed out, the short gunner displaying ten years of mercenary work and how her own breasts were really starting to swell, 'My mech has a rechargeable battery but Maliwan's tanks and robots run off of fuel that has to be brought down from orbit, same with their food. If we take out their space port we can cut off their whole advance.'

Amara had to admit that it was a good idea, although she favored her own punching technique as more likely to get results. And had to admit that Moze was going full hog with her advice. The Siren had seen the still petite gunner working out every day on her shoulders, pectorals and back muscles, preparing them as much as possible for the titty avalanche already building.

Near a C cup was Amara's guess, watching the short woman's growing tatas soak up a majority of her new deluge, going from grapes to apples in a couple weeks. Those expired Atlas rations must have some sort of decaying growth hormone in them that were giving the previously petanko mech driver stripper boobs in no time. At the moment she wasn't bloated, more was the pity, but she did have a soft little venus mound pressing on her pants button.

'That's a pretty good idea,' Lilith said, scrolling over to the captured Atlas space port, 'but there's still a lot of missile platforms around it. Too many to risk a drop of the drop pod.'

'Every place has a servants entrance though,' Moxxi had suggested, the bar keep/intelligence and propaganda officer, motioning to a stretch of spill ways and commercial buildings just out side of the range of the missiles, 'our thoroughly capable vault hunters can land, walk in and be back in time for a quick drink.'

She winked at Amara at that. Her sleeping with the ship's sole residence siren was now common knowledge, Moxxi stumbling out the next morning with smeared make up, hair standing on end and a corset she couldn't button up over her swollen stomach meant it couldn't be hidden even if anyone somehow hadn't heard her screams. The rather sluttish bar keep/entertainer had a very, very long sexual history but had never slept with a Siren before and her mind had been rather blown by it. There'd been two more stuffing sessions since, engineered by Amara to happen just wide enough apart to stretch out Moxxi's stomach capacity and leaving her hungry until the next one. At the moment there weren't any signs on old balloon tit's body of her gain, she'd had the least feeding up of any of Amara's prey and despite her fat genes would need...coaxing.

But it meant that Amara's other projects were more motivated, which was good. A little jealousy between the members of her thickening harem would work in her favor if she played it right. And be very, very pleasurable later on.

For now, Moze knew the most of her chubby chasing ways and was almost never seen without an Atlas protein bar in hand, Amara had to guess the little gunner had put on almost fifteen pounds in a barely ten days of gaining. Lilith on the other hand was getting clingier, during game nights she'd parked her butt on the bench right next to Amara despite GMing and during movie nights had started to wear just underwear and practically sit in the Siren's hard lap, clearly needing the attention Amara could give and trying to monopolize it. The Siren was planning on a first kiss between them next time, after making sure Lilith was so stuffed she couldn't sit up straight, best to get sexual joy and being full mixed close together.

'Well, what are we waiting for then?' Amara asked, 'it should be a piece of cake!'

....

Three almost totally straight days of urban combat later and Moze was near a breaking point.

'Oh but this is the challenge I need!' Amara said over her own covering fire, as a sweating, panting Moze dipped into cover besides her, reloading her new hyperion smg.

'I need water,' the gunner grunted, sucking down her canteen.

'When you're finished, cover me,' the tall woman had laughed, leaping over the little wall they shared and dashing across the street as bullets rang out around her or off her shield

'A little wait next time might be nice,' Moze groaned, rattling off a burst of rockets from her own new missile launcher at a pack of cultists shooting at Amara, 'considering all the crap you've got me carrying.'

Moze had never been strong and her decision to fill her back pack up with heavier weapons was, while financially sound, very tiring. Still, she supposed that it was making her stronger which was a good thing. Despite her jogging on the ship and doing shoulder exercises and the endless gunfights to reach the space port, Moze was finding herself a little out of shape. Her breath came quicker and her muscles were having to haul more around, although she supposed gaining a fifth of her body weight in less than a month would do that to her. Really it was probably going to be the first time in history someone left a war zone fatter than when they entered it.

A burst of lightning came from the bunker Amara had charged, as well as a lot of gunfire that didn't stop. There must be a lot of baddies in it to keep Amara occupied for so long.

'I swear to God that crazy bitch is trying to get herself killed,' the gunner grunted, eyeing the long stretch to the window Amara had dashed across.

The siren was faster than Moze, even before she'd started fattening herself up, and had gotten faster during the long house to house fighting, her abilities becoming more powerful with each kill. Moze wasn't exactly slacking in that regard, her guns putting down an entire regiment of maliwan mercs and cov cultists, but she was just getting to be a better shot and mech pilot instead of a sprinter. Amara ran around like she was on crack cocaine at all times, while Moze was feeling the squeeze of her pants at all times now. The Maliwan had brought a lot of supplies with them, which included tons of carb and fat heavy bars that Moze had looted. Her cargo pants pockets were full of them and Amara had started teasingly feeding them to her.

See that Moxxi bitch risking her fake tits down here. Amara was choosing her and Moze was choosing Amara. Not the full four hundred pounds of course, that was insane. But Moze needed another siren fuck real bad and if that meant getting to 130 lbs well then she'd get to 130 lbs. After that though she'd sure as hell stop, on her tiny frame any thing else would start moving from curvy to fat. Already she'd have to spend a lot of her new loot on new clothes when she got to an echo net connection or a store.

Constant bloat and gradual gain had reached the point where staying in her size zeros were out of the question, she had to suck in and shuffle to get the button done and that zipper was never coming up again. Her gunbelt was out two holes and her clothes fit like a painful vice around her new gain, a full on muffin top now displayed while uptop the B cup bra was now painfully insufficient, Moze well into the C range. She was getting big enough the profile of her tits pressed against her flack jacket and her rifles strap kept getting caught between them, while recoil made them bounce hard against the underwire. Her arms were putting on a little weight too, pinching into her sleeves as her small muscles began to be covered up. And she seemingly hadn't caught her breath all day.

In short, there was no way the increasingly busty, out of shape mercenary was reaching the bunker on her own. FL4K was on his own mission in the sewers and couldn't help, but luckily she didn't have to be on her own.

'They've got a tiger in there, lets see how they like an Iron Bear,' Moze chuckled, hitting the button on her belt.

Instead of a short gunner, ten feet of armored fury burst out of her cover.

'Kiss my tight mechanized ass and die you Maliwan fucks!' the gunner roared inside the cockpit, 'Eat high ex!'

Her grenade launcher roared, the recoil shooting up her arm into her body, making her increasing boobs bounce in a way that made her glad she'd bought a bra and unhappy she hadn't upgraded it to a C. Sitting down, her gut poked hard at her pants and she reflexively sucked it in, not wanting to test the clearly fraying threads holding it on. Those mercenary snipers in the tower, brutal but efficient Maliwan shock troopers, that didn't explode returned fire, rounds clattering off her Iron Bear mech's shields to little effects. Moze laughed and kept firing, spare hand fishing out another protein bar as the mech's launchers blasted apart the whole watch tower. This was almost too easy, it was a shame she couldn't use her mech all the time, it would make fighting have zero physical effort.

A thought she didn't put near enough thought into.

She stomped towards where Amara was pinned, snarling to see through a window that the Siren gasping down on the ground, surrounded by Maliwan bodies but with twenty others shooting at her, including an enormous heavy gunner pouring fire on her as Amara fumbled with her smg.

Moze's mouth fell open and her stomach relaxed, button popping off unnoticed and pinging off the mech's view screen.

'Oh no you don't fuckers, not my fucking girlfriend,' Moze growled, crashing through a wall and stomping several troopers, her mech's iron fist knocking others flying as she put it between Amara and her tormentors.

She hit the auto pilot and ejected out the back as the AI piloted mech fought on its own, grabbing a health regen injector from her pocket and slamming it into Amara's neck. Instantly the Siren's wounds healed, returning her back to muscular health. Amara grinned, sprang up and kissed Moze hard, pressing the short stack gunner up with a hand on her still flat but no longer quite so bony backside. Moze got to experience what boobs pressing together felt like for the first time as Amara's tongue set an electric jolt down her tonsils.

'My thanks for the assistance little bear, you've saved me having to be reconstructed and waste all the good work I've put into this body. You're clearly growing into quite the warrior,' the Siren laughed, reloading her gun, 'now let me finish these thugs off.'

Amara burst from cover past Moze's still operating mech and Moze flinched to see the long line of lightning shoot from Amara's body, before her siren girlfriend began punching the Maliwan soldiers to death, four fists per swing. It wasn't long before they had the bunker all to themselves and the gunner leaned against the wall as the sounds of gunfire were replaced with quiet.

'Looks like this place had a couple stores in it before the invasion,' Amara told Moze, 'I'll hit it for cash and supplies, you search for guns.'

'Let me catch my breath,' Moze said, tugging at her pants.

They were in no danger of falling but kicking ass with a broken button felt humiliating. She fleeced what used to be a Maliwan platoon, finding several SMGs and pistols that weren't worth using but could be sold, then radio'd FL4K.

'Where are you at Robo Killer,' she asked the murderous android.

'Still heading through the sewers to detonate the main gate, leaving a trail of murder in my wake. The ratch here are numerous, vicious and oh so easy to murder. I am in no danger but it will take half an hour to detonate the charges you gave me beneath the gate,' it answered, 'I am glad that I do not have a sense of smell though.'

'Good to hear, keep us updated,' Moze said, seeing an echo net alert that her bank account was rising, meaning Amara was looting the cash registers in the convenience store.

That was good, the pair had stuck close and hadn't been killed and reconstructed once, saving them a significant amount of cash. Combined with the loot they were carrying, when they finally found a gun vending machine they'd be making bank. Enough to buy some new pants maybe.

'Scored us five hundred energy credits,' Amara announced, entering with her guns slung and her guns struggling to carry several boxes, 'and all of this.'

The first box was topped with a new pair of cargo pants and Moze gratefully undid her boots and slid into them. Amara drank in her slightly thicker legs and the pinched red ring around her softer belly and then grinned when they fit perfectly.

'Oh thank God, size twos,' Moze sighed, as she did up the button.

'Size fours, don't cut yourself short,' Amara winked at her, pulling out the next item, 'here try this on.'

Moze paled a little hearing that she'd skipped size two for four completely. It wasn't a big number in the grand scheme of things, but to a life long stick it was a big number. Still, this was her max weight. As soon as they were done screwing, presuming her mind didn't explode, this whole gaining thing was over. Back to not being stuffed 24/7, she'd try and turn a little of this chunk into muscle if she could but if not be happy going back down to 110. Still, she took the next piece of clothing, a 30C push up bra.

'Going to have to...well,' Moze shrugged, putting on a not quite so little display, 'to put these on.'

'Nothing I haven't seen before, go ahead,' Amara insisted, licking her teeth when the mercenaries larger mammaries popped into view.

Moze's shoulder exercises were still paying off, the Cs were looking both rock hard and delectably soft at the same time. The nipples were still high and pink and the grapefruit size titties weren't over grown yet, but Amara noticed the areola were beginning to stretch. This was the max size her frame could reasonably support, maybe a D if her little belly pooch kept growing into balance it out but any bigger than that would start to hamper her: sagging, back pain, needing special bras, getting in the way of her aim.

Good.

'Cups are fitting great, perfect actually,' Moze said, looking down and not believing that these tits were hers, 'but the bands a little tight surprisingly, would you mind loosening it?'

She looked up to find Amara's (freshly cleaned) hands feeding a kingsized candy bar into her mouth. Despite her mental desire to stop gaining, Moze's mouth popped open immediately and she munched eight inches of chocolately goodness down in a flash. She'd barely finished swallowing before it was replaced and then that one was replaced too.

This was nuts, they were in a war zone and she was being stuffed with candy bars. It was absolutely insane that she didn't just close her mouth as candy bar number four went down and number five took its place. That she didn't hold up a hand as number five vanished and her mercifully loose pants started getting snug as Moze's previously record bloat swelled to new heights. And it was crazy, absolutely insane, that she ate number seven and eight on her own as Amara stepped behind her, loosened her bra band a notch and then ran a tingling hand over her belly, another on her nipple.

'You saved me and deserve a treat,' Amara whispered, sending current over Moze's tits, 'here's what I think. For saving me you've earned two as soon as we're back on the ship.'

'Tw-two?' Moze gasped, feeling her hair start stand on end when Amara kissed her neck.

'You're choice, separately or two in a row. Anytime you want,' Amara asked, 'my room or yours, I'd say the vault hunter showers but they don't mix well with lightning.'

'Oh fuck,' Moze gasped again.

'But I underestimated you. You're getting so strong, so powerful, enough that if you get up to a fifty pound increase over your base, you'll have earned a weekly slot,' Amara teased, whispering in Moze's ear, squeezing her swollen, turgid gut, 'you're probably closer to thirty pounds up than twenty already, with all the scavenging we've been doing here.'

'Oh fuck, oh fuck,' Moze said, brain twitching between horror at getting so chubby she'd skipped up two pant sizes and how she wanted Amara to put her hand lower.

A siren fuck a week just for another twenty pounds or so?

'Not yet Little Bear, I prefer a shower first,' Amara laughed, 'and we've got a war to finish off.'

Moze gasped as Amara broke contact just as FL4Ks bomb went off and the gate collapsed.

'Come on, don't stand there with your shirt off!' Amara laughed, sliding on a gas-mask and charging towards the cloud of smoke.

The Gunner grabbed her shirt and flak jacket, finding that the vladof tee wouldn't get past her belly button between growing boobs and stuffed gut, exposing a full half of her belly. And her flak vest...fuck, she couldn't get the ends to meet around her belly.

'Fuck, better hope my shield holds up,' the short but not quite so slight gunner sighed, picking up her gun and running off, the bounce of her tits and dangerously overfull gut painful as buck shot.

Okay, not that painful but still.

FL4K caught up with them and the three vault hunters cut down a small army of Maliwan mercs as they cleared the logistical hub. Moze was pouring sweat and turning green at the end, trying not to fucking puke. Throughout the battle they heard propaganda broadcasts from Maliwan and the Children of the Vault, the visuals flashing on the numerous TVs scattered about:

'Whatsup superfans! We're broad casting from aboard the Maliwan pleasure yacht Zanara!' Tyreen Calypso laughed, the utterly vile siren cutting a gorgeous figure in a barely existent string bikini and fur robe with a champagne glass in one hand, which she drained, 'and this is seriously the best party I've ever been too! There's a nacho fountain-fountain, with nacho fountains just pouring out of it!'

Tyreen was heroine chic thin, with no boobs (Moze dwarfed her before her sudden admission to the big booby ball), a waist so tiny it looked collapsed, rail thin arms and legs and eyes that seemed constantly starving, probably from her feeding on the life force of everyone she got close to. Right now though, the only thing she was eating was a hamburger the size of Moze's head, the ultra greasy, fattening treat having immense doughnuts for buns, a full, deep fried pork steak for meat, a heart attack's worth of fried onions, jalapenos and pickles and what looked like scoops of double chocolate fudge ice cream on it for cheese, with a hilariously small slice of lettuce topping it as an after thought. Moze wanted to puke seeing it, but Amara began getting ideas.

'And if you kill a vault thief, you get to score an Eridian level membership and a full day of partying up here with us!' Tyreen laughed, the camera cutting around to see a dozen of the galaxy's upper crust influencers, perfectly tan, toned, surgically perfect men and women who wouldn't be caught dead within a mile of a psychotic, reeking bandit.

'Bet you dollars to doughnuts they'd just shoot anyone who got up there, right?' Moze huffed as she and Amara let their shields recover behind a pillar, the ultra loud broad cast covering up the gunfight around them.

'I wouldn't take that bet,' Amara said, watching the add carefully and noticing the insane amount of fattening treats aboard the pleasure yacht, 'although I have to give Katagawa jr some points for taste. If I had access to stuff like that...'

She put a hand on Moze's waist, 'well...'

'Don't forget to like, follow and *munch* obey!' Tyreen said with a full mouth, most of the burger gone and her stomach not quite so concave.

The commercial ended in long minutes of Katagawa bragging about the pleasure yacht, the add still playing when the trio burst into the Maliwan commander's area. That proved to be a an immense, hovering robot with  computer banks dedicated to planning out the maliwan logistical needs, vast digistructor units producing huge amounts of rations, fuel and ammunition and barely any personal defenses.

'And here I'd thought it be a challenge,' Amara huffed after they'd brought it down, finishing it off with a kick to the head.

'Well, I'm not going to regret it,' Moze agreed, turning her mech's artillery onto train cars of supplies that would never reach the Maliwan offensive until it powered down.

'This enemy was a pathetic foe, but the loot from its murder were excellent,' FL4K pointed out, ripping open its guts to reveal a flood of guns and cash.

The three picked through the loot, but Moze and Amara paused at what else was in it.

'That's an Energon-46 cold fusion reactor!' Moze gasped as she pulled out the coin sized disc, 'with one of these I could power my mech 24/7!'

'24/7? That's wonderful news!' Amara whooped, hugging the short gunner up to her face, feeling the softening breasts pressing into jaw, 'you're going to do great with that!'

The Siren neglected to mention that a Childes-49 Luxury Food fabricator was now in her pack. Freshly pulled from the logistical robot, it could make almost any luxury meal in the world. For herself, Amara would use it only to make lots of lean wild game, excellent protein for her ever hungry biceps.

For her three hooked fatties though...

'So Moze, how'd that burger that bitch Tyreen was eating look to you?' Amara asked.

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Chapter 4: Past and Future Nerd-Blob

'This is getting out of hand,' Lilith said breathlessly to herself.

The unwillingly former Siren wasn't referring to the battle on Promethea. That was turning out nicely, with their supply lines cut the Maliwan spear head had run out of steam and now was fighting both the counter attacking Atlas army and its own allies as the Children of the Vault's cult of insane cannibals decided their allies looked like walking rations. Lilith's vault hunter strike team had spent a week running daily missions to get civilians out of the combat zones and stir up conflict between the two rather idiotic armies while the Atlas CEO Rhys had gathered intell on the location of the Vault Key stolen from Pandora, finding out that it was on the pleasure barge Zanara in orbit. FL4K, Moze and Amara were currently arming up with new weaponry and shields to go and take it by force, a fight Lilith was sure they would win.

No, Lilith was referring to well, Lilith.

'Come on Lil, suck it in,' she grunted on herself, inhaling as deep as she could, arching her back and tensing her stomach muscles all towards the goal of getting her pants buttoned.

Lilith sucked in and strained, brows furrowing and sweat forming on her face, pushing button towards hole hard as she could. No progress was made, a pale fold of fat pooching out resolutely, refusing to let the Siren's pants button up. But Lilith was an old hand at gaining weight on a limited budget and had plenty of strategies, she tried hopping up and down and tugging up wards on her pants, aiming to get the pants up over her fupa to her now higher natural waist and hope she could button it down. But there was no such luck, all she was doing was making her self breath harder and making her fat jiggle, a feeling that felt too much like an old friend coming by and reminding you of a debt.

'You can do this, its just, just a pair of pants,' she wheezed, detecting a higher note in her usually deep voice.

Was her voice changing back now that she wasnt' a siren? Back to high, squeaky, nervous Lillian's voice and away from Lilith's sultry, confident one? Why wouldn't it, everything else was changing back.

'You can do this, you can do this, you opened vaults and beat general knoxx and a claptrap rebellion and a Dahl invasion and punched handsome Jack and lifted up a city and killed Handsome Jack and come on and button these pants!' Lilith grunted, beginning to wheeze.

Time for the nuclear option then.

With teeth gritting determination, the red head flopped down onto the bed, sucking in the stomach and arching her back, hips in the air as she tried pulling her pants, the last pair of pants that could feasibly fit her, shut. The pair of pants that had been all that would fit for five days, the pair of size sixes she'd accidentally ordered and never bothered giving away even though she was a siren now and would stay a size four until she died, that had gone from too loose to wear to the only thing that fit to snug to painfully tight to now unable to button. The pair of pants that were the last pair of jeans she owned, who's button was just touching the hole...

'I can...do...this,' Lilith gasped, voice rasping higher, lungs beginning to burn, beginning to ...

Lilith collapsed into coughing, hacking her lungs out as she tried to get in more air. No, no, no, not again...not asthma again...She fell off the floor, curling up on the bed, sucking in air until she could at last feel confident she didn't die.

'I'm, I'm gonna need an inhaler again,' Lilith groaned, sliding her pants down and admitting defeat.

A few clicks on her echonet later and Lilith had herself a shiny new inhaler and several pairs of size eight pants. Bitterly, she puffed on the medical device, feeling her lungs ease and snarling that she was tasting it again. Badass siren Lilith was going and ashtmatic nerd Lilith was coming right back.

'As is my weight,' she groaned, pulling her size eights up and finding out that they fit.

And not even loosely. Honestly they were a tiny bit snug around the midriff.

Still shirtless, Lilith looked herself over, walking closer to her mirror as she noticed that her vision was starting to blur out. No more did she have a tiny, perfectly flat and firm 22 inch waist, seemingly picking up several inches of soft chub in just a month. Her hour glass was filling in, no longer so tapered as her love handles pushed out and down to merge with hips that while no longer trim weren't growing at the same rate. Even though the button had fastened without a problem she still had a muffin top oozing over the top, while her love handles wobbled on the side, with a beginners FUPA pressing against the zipper. She pressed hard, finding only softness and no muscle, pinching and jiggling, wincing when she saw one tiny red fleck on the side of her belly button.

'Stretch mark,' Lilith sighed, remembering when she'd been fatty Lillian Parker, 24 year old, 403lb virgin supreme and had had a forest of long, angry red marks from her rapidly growing bulk, 'and I've been walking around with this on display?'

The changes were confined to her waist line. Pronounced ribs were vanishing, just a hint when she shifted, her rebudding side rolls more noticeable. Her thigh gap was almost closed for business, her normal stance seeing her thighs start to touch at the top.

Even worse was her chest. Lilith's delicate collar bone was covered up with soft fluff, while her boobs...

'Oh no,' she sighed, cupping the double Ds that had grown in with her siren tats, 'not my girls...'

They were smaller, she could tell that just by how they didn't thrust out as much. And when she touched them, eww, they were softer and lower, nipples drifting downwards. Sagging again, like they had when they were pathetically small fat girl boobs, ones that hadn't found half a cup size even as she'd gained a hundred pounds over high school and a hundred over college and then despite being broke as fuck sixty more over being under-employed at a game store after stupidly getting an English degree. If she hadn't woken up with Siren tats and lose sixty pounds in a month, who knows how big she'd have been...

'I'll be lucky to fill out a D,' the red head near cried, feeling fat bunch up under her chin.

That again. The big flabby, multiplying every three years bulge under her neck as her shitty eating habits and laziness took her from skinny nerd girl to obese nerd girl. It took a lot of courage to look up and examine her face, seeing the soft start of her chins return. Her face, delicate and narrow, was turning round once more, cheeks taking the first step on the road that led to chip-munk land. And...a pimple, right on the tip of her nose. Ugh, her skin looked greasy and pale, gone from Ivory to Milky as she sat up here cowering on this space ship.

'What's Amara going to think of all this...this?' the red head sighed, waving a hand at herself and feeling some arm fat jiggle.

Right after she'd cracked her first vault with Brick and Mordecai and poor dead Roland, she'd been offered a million credits by guns and bullets to pose naked with a pistol over her privates and an SMG over her tits. She'd taken it of course, money was money, and did not want to attempt the same pose, guessing she'd packed on maybe thirty pounds. Healthy eating had never been her forte, her siren powers had suppressed her appetite and boosted her metabolism but even then she'd had an eridium addiction for years, her gluttony pushing through. Now that she was back to normal, no longer the most powerful woman in the galaxy, her fat girl habits were clearly on their way back. Just looking around she saw all of these candy packets and chip bags, she couldn't even remember buying them!

'Ugh, this is just like my dorm room and my apartment. This is it,' Lilith told herself, making her voice deeper, 'line in the sand time. They took my powers, my tats and my vault key but those Calypso assholes won't take my figure. I'm on a diet starting right now! No more junk, only veggies!'

Lilith grabbed a trash bag and filled it up with chocolate, grimacing as her tummy roll went over her pants every time she bent down. As soon as it was tied off, she bought a new bra and some new shirts on line. Temporary ones, for until she lost this gut but that would cover it until then.

What would Amara think of her letting herself go so bad? The other siren had been so sweet to her, spending time with her, indulging in her stupid nerd habits and interests when she was clearly the jock of all jocks. Lilith had developed more than a bit of a crush on Amara, enjoying their girls nights and pressing closer, the feel of the woman's hard muscles under her soft brown skin making her feel warm, safe, protected and tingly. She'd been planning on wearing only her underwear to the next movie night, getting a little tipsy and seeing how things went. That might be a bad idea now, she was so...squishy and gross. If the other siren...no, not another siren, if the siren made a move of course she'd reciprocate but Lilith doubted she would...not now certainly.

Once the junk was out an airlock, Lilith went down to Moxxi's and had herself a healthy breakfast made using the new food device Amara had brought back: just a whole wheat bagel, a cantalope slice and some yogurt. It didn't taste particuarly good after a month on sugary junk but sacrifices had to be made. She settled down at the command console, ignoring how her pants pinched her tummy and how her muffin top surged over them, pressing against her shirt. This was the fattest she'd get...

Ellie sent over a report on the ship's systems, heavy reading that took half an hour. At the end of it Lilith found herself putting a chocolate cherry into her mouth and found an empty box in her lap, taken from a stack hidden in the captain's chairs left armrest. She blinked her still yellow but slightly browner eyes, swallowing guilty as Clap-Trap hummed by on permanent janitorial punishment detail, scooping up the box.

'Hey Clap-Trap, uh, how many boxes of those have I eaten?' she asked, suppressing a squeak.

'Oh just one,' the robot chirped.

'Good...say I have these others I'd like you to take,' Lilith insisted, pulling out half a dozen other boxes and throwing them in, pausing when she saw there were at least three other empties in Clap-Trap's bag, 'you said I only had one.'

'Yeah, since I went around the room last!' the robot responded.

'Just, just take these out of here,' Lilith said with a sigh, adjusting her pants around her swelling tummy.

A size eight shouldn't feel this snug. She'd gained more in a month than she had in an entire year during her fat girl days, habits returning so strong she'd eaten...a whole days worth of sugar and chocolate in half an hour without knowing it. Oh she was such a piglet. Okay, this was salvageable if she didn't eat anything else the whole day and only drank water.

Not long after Marcus sent an expense report on the ship's guns, what it would cost to upgrade them and what he charged for the report and what he charged for charging for it. A furious exchange of echo-net emails ensued before she talked him into dropping the fees and she finished off her soda bottle with a sigh. Her eyes twitched back to it and she felt the fizzy pressure in her gut. The left side of her chair was a built in fridge.

'How many?' she asked Clap trap, 'since I sat down?'

'I dunno, how many is this?' the robot held out a pincer.

'Fuck, too many,' Lilith groaned, feeling her stomach swell and churn, 'listen, if you see me eating anything sugary tell me immediately, alright?'

'Can do! You can count on me!' he said, taking off the full bag of garbage.

'I'm gonna get huge,' she groaned.

An hour later she was looking through some intel reports from Moxxi, while privately fuming that the twenty five years older woman was still looking trim at breakfast. How the hell Moxxi did it she had no idea, but it made Lilith feel fat and dumpy. She went to hit send on the echo-locator, then noticed her hands were greasy with potato chip crumbs.

'Clap-Trap!' the increasingly full Captain groaned, 'I told you, if I had anything to take it away!'

'No, you said anything sugary!' the robot rejected, hauling over another trash bag with at least two other family sized bags of potato chips in it.

'Any food I have, you've got to take it from me,' Lilith said, pulling the robot over, 'got me? Salty, sugary, savory, anything except celery and water, capiche?'

'Sure thing!' the robot saluted, pulling open the foot rest of the chair and withdrawing several bags of chips.

'I had a fat girl stash in my captain's chair,' Lilith realized, 'just like at fat camp every summer...when I came home fatter than when I left.'

Lilith looked down at her messy, crumb stained, greasy shirt. Her belly was immensely bloated, looking knocked up. This morning her fuller waist had been tied with her shrinking chest, fluffing even, but now it surged past it to rest in her lap. The new shirt was pulled up half way to the belly button and she could swear the stretch mark looked longer. The snap pressed hard into her, like a knife begging to be removed. She was breathing heavier from stress and her stomach hurting, so she took a humiliating puff of her new inhaler and then hid it away.

'I'm not outgrowing you today,' she hissed quietly, glad no one else was on the bridge.

The door opened with a chirp, letting a wonderful smell come in. Amara prowled in, muscular hips sashaying, strong legs eating up terrain without a sound. Lilith felt a quiver of arousal as she saw the flex of the Siren's powerful biceps...and a stab of regret as she saw the heavy pie, still hot and steaming she held and put down on Lilith's side table.

'Amara,' Lilith said, too high, 'uh, hey there killer.'

'Fire Hawk, after our victory over that supply depot I decided to indulge a little and looked up my Nani's potato pie recipe. I set it to bake while I was doing my ab exercises today,' the tall, buff girl smiled, flexing her spectacular abs which Lilith swore had gotten more ripped and jacked since she'd come aboard, 'but I got caught up in the weighted reverse crunch planks that I don't have time to eat it before the mission. So I thought, why not give it to you?'

Lilith smiled, a painful smile, 'Well, I'd love it but uh, well. I'm kind of...'

She pointed at her paunch, full, stuffed and not at all skinny but still gurgling at the smell.

'Do you not like pie?' Amara asked, somehow missing the poundage that had crept onto Lilith's frame.

'Well, no, its that,' Lilith blushed.

'Does it smell bad?' the siren asked, face falling, looking hurt, 'I'm not that good of a cook but, I tried hard making it...'

'No, no it smells great. Too great, just, Amara,' Lilith admitted, 'I'm kind a getting fat again.'

'What? Fat again?' the siren asked, 'you?'

'Well, yes. Again. Before I got my siren tats I was a pretty big girl. I didn't exercise, I didn't eat right and it caught up with me. I haven't broken a sweat since I lost my powers and I've been eating a lot of junk food,' she admitted, 'everything I eat has sugar and transfat and well.'

She drubbed her fingers on her stomach, which growled like an angry dog.

'This happens,' she admitted.

'Oh Lil,' Amara said with a soft sigh, leaning in and kissing Lilith's forehead, making the ex-siren blush, 'Lil, I didn't know. I thought...no, I mean on Partali, but how could you have known and I shouldn't have presumed to guess you knew my culture.'

'Known?' Lilith asked, confused and intrigued, eager not to drive away the protective other woman.

'On old Partali, when a young woman had her heart set on a warrior and they go to war' the Siren explained, 'she starts putting on weight until peace comes, so that when her lover returns she can be soft and inviting, make him forget about the war. The longer the war, the softer and more inviting she must be.'

'She does, wait, what?' Lilith asked in shock, going to stand up but finding her button stabbing into her.

'Its an old tradition, from the early colonial days and well before the mega corps war,' Amara sighed, 'my nani told me stories about it, but almost no one does it now. Its just, I'd thought you'd...I'm sorry I shouldn't have presumed you were interested in me.'

Lilith's eyes bulged, 'No! I mean, yes, yes I am interested in you! I didn't know about the tradition, but yes, I think you're gorgeous and sexy and strong and buff and bad ass and hot and hard and tough...'

Her breath caught in her chest and she puffed her inhaler without thought.

'You, you do?' Amara squealed, plucking the chunky redhead from her seat without effort with one pull of her buff arms, spinning her around and kissing her, tongue going deep.

Lilith felt herself light up, memories of siren power going through her as Amara's electricity gave her a full body tingle.

'Oh I am so happy,' Amara cooed, not putting her down, 'just, its been, and I've never...'

Something wasn't right to Lilith, thrilled at being accepted despite and even because of chubbing up as she was, she could be jealous.

'What about Moxxi?' Lilith asked her, 'and Moze? I heard you two...fucking yesterday.'

Amara nodded, not offended clearly, 'Lilith, Lil, I understand you're angry. And you have a right to be. I have slept with Moxxi, I probably will again unless you tell me not to. She's very experienced and teaches me quite a bit, I like her. And Moze is a battle comrade, she's saved my life and I've saved hers. Its a war bond and very deep. If you want to break it off I will but know that this is temporary. It has to be, we can't make promises for the future when any mission could be our last.'

'yes, I mean,' Lilith sighed, 'Ugh I don't know. I know we could all die at any time in this stupid war but, am I special to you?'

'Of course you are!' Amara said, 'you're the only other sane woman I've met who's a siren! Who can channel the elements, who knows what it feels like!'

'Knows what it felt like,' Lilith sighed, crossing her arms against her subsiding chest.

'And will again, this I swear!' Amara told her with a bow, leg muscles straining hard against her pants, 'Listen Lilith, you're depressed. You're stressed, you're juggling responsibilities and have just lost the equivalent of two limbs. But you know what? I like you, I like that you snort when you laugh hard at bad movies, I like all the thought you put into our bunkers and bad ass games. I like how you let me win at Arcana the collecting. I like how you like to cuddle. I like how you're running a whole damn war when your personal power is a rusty ship that barely works and a pistol that isn't even loaded and yet you're still winning. And yes we could die, but well, I'm a nomad. One place, I can't be tied down. I'll be with you until the end of the war no matter what, I'll get you your powers back until then...I think you should relax. Relax and eat.'

'Relax? Relax running a war?' Lilith asked, noticing past her love handle that her hyperion pistol had an open chamber and no magazine, 'and get ...get fat?'

'Yes! Relax in not getting shot at, eat what you want, play your games in your off time, watch bad movies and get drunk and have sloppy sex with me,' Amara insisted, 'I like the pounds on you. Partali's like fat women, give a girl from my city enough money and carbs and they'll get so fat they can't get through a door.'

'...really?' Lilith asked in amazement, 'you mean you don't mind if I gain weight?'

'Of course, the girl I lost my virginity to was the police captain's daughter and her family's secret shame was that she could walk unassisted,' Amara boasted with a slap against her abs, 'trust me. Eat whatever you want and get as big as you can. When this is over and the calypsos are dust, well, you'll have your tats back and everything will shrink back. Right? You said you used to be fat so I assume...'

'Yeah, yeah I guess if you don't mind, well, its easier than working out and dieting. Especially as I seem to be stress eating,' Lilith admitted with a smile, eyeing the Amazonian beauty's fatless figure, 'then why aren't you, if I may ask?'

'Me? Why am I not fat? Because I was a starving slum rat before this and now?' Amara smiled, flexing again, biceps and triceps and pecs and obliques and abs and traps and lats all bulging, 'because I like being an ultra buff badass who can punch out whole armies?'

She said it with a grin and flexed everything, ripping a new tear along the front of her pants.

'Why, you want me to get fat?' Amara asked, flexing again, 'you don't like my muscles?'

'No, I love them!' Lilith admitted with a squeak, feeling her pants soak, 'its just, it seemed weird. But I mean...why the hell not? I'll consider this a vacation from skinny.'

Just saying it felt bizarre, but why not? Once Tyreen Calypso was defeated, she'd get her powers back and her figure. Until then, if this ultra sexy Amazon wanted to have kinky fat girl sex with her...well why not? Fat Nerd Lilith was probably better than slutty, skinny Siren Lilith at running this operation anyway, she'd essentially managed her whole store back on Elysium 7. She could go back to binge eating and lounging, take a break and then go back to the action...

'So you want some pie?' Amara grinned, slicing it with a combat knife.

'I would fucking love some pie, killer,' Lilith smiled, sniffing the aroma of spices, 'you want any?'

'Me? No, I'm on a diet. I've got to stay a badass and Nani was the fattest girl in her village when she was my age,' the Siren laughed, firm tits bouncing and hard abs flexing, tattoos spreading just a bit wider, 'didn't you hear me? Partali girls get fat really easily. Now, if you excuse me Commander. I've got a hyper-rich asshole's pleasure barge to go capture and then a tantalizing ivory goddess to cuddle up with during a movie night while she stuffs herself with ice cream. And then...I hate to pry but, did you ever, well, as a fat girl?'

'I have to admit and say no,' Lilith said, 'not until I was a siren and skinny.'

'Then I'll be happy to pop your fat girl cherry,' Amara smiled, 'I consider it an honor.'

She drew herself up in a salute, flexing her abs mightily and turned, giving Lilith a tantalizing look at her tritanium carved buns.

'Oh shit but I think I'm in love,' Lilith wheezed to herself, heart beating fast, underwear wetting and breath catching in her chest.

She puffed her inhaler again, then turned to see Clap-Trap reaching for her pie. Enraged, she snatched it from him, cradling the warm earthware to her chest.

'What are you doing?' Lilith demanded.

'You said to keep all your food away from you!' the robot answered in a huff.

'Well...weren't you listening?' Lilith asked, realizing that the robot had been right there during a very private convo the whole time.

'You think I ever listen?' the robot asked.

'Okay, you've got a point,' the commander admitted, pausing to unbutton her far too tight pants and pull out her wallet, freed stomach surging out with a rush, 'But the old order is cancelled. The new order is to take this money and go buy me some soda. And some candy. And some chips. And beer. I've got a fat girl stash to refill.'

She started in on the pie when the robot buzzed off, finding its potatoey goodness amazing. Damn, no wonder Amara said Partali women were fat, this thign was dense as a brick or dense as Brick and yet she was feeling ever hungrier. By the time she was done her stomach was groaning, complaining for more like she was starving.

'It took you long enough,' she growled at Clap-Trap when he rolled in, arms full of junk, 'now go get more.'

Lilith sat to eating, looking down at her swollen past standing but still hungry stomach, looking familiar as it filled up. Back when she ran a nerd store, it had rested on her lap all day long, save for the last year before her tats came in when it had started to pour over her knees.

'Welcome back gut, its only a visit this time,' she promised, 'but man, are we gonna make it a fun visit.'

...

Amara strolled down to the drop pod, every few steps spinning a cart wheel or walking on her hands. All this war was really cutting into her body building, she'd expected to hit 170lbs but was stalled out at 150 ultra lean, ripped pounds, too busy stuffing her little harem. She'd had to sacrifice a little sleep to keep her workouts up, even with eight arms juggling three growing feedees, fighting a war and becoming ever more shredded was a challenge. But she now two of her three feedees gaining on their own, consciously so she could relax a little and try that new lat blaster she'd seen an add for. Now all she had to do was...

'Say Sugar, what was in these bars of yours?' Moxxi asked from her bar, munching down on a plain looking oatmeal patty, 'because they taste divine!'

'Oh the diet bars? Nothing much,' Amara smiled, 'just natural products. A little honey.'

If by a little honey you meant about a quart, compacted. If by natural products you meant chemicals that technically existed on nature on some products, usually as bovine growth hormones. And if by diet bars you meant '1,600 calories per 4 oz figure killers'.

'Well they are amazing and I can't thank you enough,' the ultra sexy mega milf grinned, leaning forwards to show off her stellar boobs, 'you know between you and me, well, the old bustle skirt was getting a little tight. Thanks a million, these'll save me quite a bit at the New-U station.'

'I'm sure you'll make it up to me,' the Tiger grinned, showing its fangs.

Amara was a heroine, a bad ass, who fought for justice alongside just fighting. But she couldn't help but feel a little wicked sometimes. Two of her beauties gaining on purpose and loving it was great, but someone as sexy as Moxxi despairing over her figure? Oh what a dream.

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Chapter 5: In Space, Everyone Can See You Jiggle

Ship to ship boarding actions were near the top of Moze's list of least favorite things.

And after spending the entirety of her teens as a line grunt in Vladdoff's cannon fodder army, Moze had a long damn list of least favorite things. Only shit-bird officers, bad food and low munitions topped getting crammed into a tiny torpedo and shot at a ten thousand miles an hour out of a cannon across the vacuum of space and into the armor of another ship full of rival Mega corp grunts who immediately started to kill you if you survived the process. And that was if you hit, missing and well...if you had the cash you woke up back by the New-U station a while after the air ran out with a hole in your memories that you never wanted filled.

'Gotta admit to a little trepidation,' Amara said as the trio of vault hunters squeezed into the giant bullet, 'this is my first time in one of these.'

'I'm surprised your scared,' Moze chuckled as FL4K wormed his way in, 'I didn't think anything scared you.'

'Me? Scared, no, not at all,' Amara said, crossing her magnificent arms, 'the Tiger of Partali fears nothing!...but you go in first.'

'Sure, nothing,' Moze laughed, walking up to the hatch and immediately finding a problem as she bent over and squeezed through the narrow hole.

Or more accurately two problems.

'Oww, my tits,' the gunner winced.

Since starting off kind of seeing Amara and being encouraged, pampered and occasionally stuffed prior to a mind blowing fuck session by the Siren, the flat chested gunner's breasts had been continuously inflating. Eating well and then over eating for the first time in her life had left the skinny soldier bearing a big pair of C cups, a high and pert set of deep cleavage that bounced every time she stepped or pulled the trigger. But after upgrading her Iron Bear mech to a 24/7 death dealing machine, well, she spent every minute of combat or getting to it in a mech on an increasingly squishy butt and usually eating with her off hand.

'Problem?' Amara chuckled as the gunner's boobs bounced against the edge of the hatch.

'Just a little bit,' Moze said, arching her back and letting her breasts pop in.

Moze had been a C cup when she'd found the reactor, that was more than a week ago of munching and while she'd kept up her shoulder exercises, she'd completely dropped her daily jogging after the bouncing got out of hand. As a result, the gunner had gone from 30C to a 32DD and had fully maxed out her frame's tit capacity. They bounced and flopped inside her overloaded sports bra, a mere D she'd barely been able to squeeze into, crazily sensitive and despite her efforts starting to sag a bit. Her shoulders were starting to curl inwards and an occasional twinge came from her lower back, the boobs themselves starting to change shape, widening away from tear drops. She could still just see her feet past them, but just the toes and they pressed awkwardly against her gun stock when she did her daily range practice, not that she needed it with the iron bear mech hauling her ass around on the field.

'Cause its looking like you're getting a bit too chubby to get inside there,' Amara chuckled as Moze's tummy pressed against the hatch, the siren poking the fat rolls, 'I've been distracted by those melons you've grown but wow, you're getting round down here too.'

The gunner did indeed have a tummy anymore, not nearly as big as her boobs but certainly puffy and a tantalizing handhold when empty. The skinny, rail thin soldier didn't look like a fit front line grunt anymore, but a rear echelon mother fucker who'd spent most of her tour guarding an ice cream stand. Everything about her was soft, a true short stack.

'You're teasing me, but you know you fucking love it,' Moze grunted, blushing shyly and finally sliding through, her fluffier but only slightly broader ass only barely snagging as she through the hole, 'or you wouldn't be stuffing me every chance.'

'Me? Stuffing you? I'm the tiger of Partali, I'd never feed someone,' Amara laughed as Moze, feeling out of shape muscle groups complain at bending in abnormal ways, began to pant as she dragged herself into her chair.

It was actually harder for Amara to get into the miniature rocket than Moze, for fat will compress and muscle will not. While the Siren had zero fat on her body, her broad hips had no give to them and her broad shoulders were scuffed and scraped. She wasn't sore beyond rapidly healing superficial scrapes, but the tall Siren had a lot more trouble than the 5' Moze did,  her battle fuck buddy was giggling and no longer breathing hard when Amara got to her seat next to her.

'What's wrong? Some one too buff and bad ass for the pod?' the gunner laughed, pulling her impact harness down and frowning when it refused to close.

'What's wrong? Someone's tits too big for the harness?' Amara asked her as Moze pulled again and again onto her shoulders, producing no definitive click but a lot of bouncing.

'Can you help?' the shorter woman sighed.

'Anything for you,' the Siren giggled, leaning forwards and closing the harness easily over Moze's shoulders, then planting a kiss on her lips.

'Let's just hope getting out isn't as hard,' the gunner sighed, fiddling with the string of her sweat pants.

Oh fuck, she hadn't changed out of her comfy sweats. It was a fucking embarrassment, unworthy of an elite mech pilot...but not worth the effort of squeezing out that damn hatch again. They were slate gray fleece, with a purple cartoon image of Amara on it, a gift of free Tiger of Partali merch from her near girlfriend after Moze had outgrown her last pair of combat pants. After a week of practically living in them, they were starting to get a little snug around the ass too. While her tits were taking the brunt of her gain, after putting on forty seven pounds in a short time she was almost done transitioning from curvy into plan on chunky. Moze was in the high 150s now, no longer skinny by any means, every measurement increasing, a chubby girl by any definition. She was full on out of shape despite being in combat for weeks, her last attempt at running at the start of the week giving her stitches after a quarter mile and a back ache after half of one. The ladder from mid ship to the top decks was becoming a chore and not just because her boobs interfered with grabbing the rungs.

This had to stop.

And it would. A few more pounds and she'd have a guaranteed, 15/10 orgasm session with Amara every week, feel those mighty arms and powerful legs wrapped around her, feel all those powerful, tingling hands massaging and tickling and rubbing and stuffing...and go on a diet and get back to jogging. Halt her gain there and try to get back in shape, she'd be fine with being 160lbs but not a pound more.

Next to her, Amara was feeling her hard stomach fill up with butter flies. She couldn't even think of how Moze hadn't worn a shirt that could reach her pants in weeks, how her heavy tits made Amara want to sleep on them. She was so decadent, so lazy, so chubby and soft it made the buff warrior woman want to coo...normally.

Now Amara could only feel an anxiety attack coming at being trapped in a small space about to be shot out of a cannon across the cosmos. Where all her sit ups and squats and bench presses counted for nothing, where even her siren powers were useless. Fuck, she wanted to puke or strangely enough to stress eat, something she'd never done. She could run at a hundred gun toting psychos without a hint of fear, but strapped into this pod?

'I need to get out of here,' the hyper ventilating Siren admitted, the walls pressing in, not even the close presence of fluffy short stack soothing her mood.

'Alright,' the Siren's voice came over the intercom, unusually squeakily began before the puff of an inhaler sounded, and her voice went back to almost normal, 'uh, sorry, technical difficulties. We've got a target lock on the Zanara. Your main mission is to find the vault key, but if you can take out Katagawa or one of the Calypsos too or even take the ship then all the better. You should hit just by the executive bridge where its located, so uh, go get em Killers!'

The torpedoes engines roared, pressing the three vault hunters back against their seats. Amara grabbed Moze's hand, threatening to break it as they shot out the torpedo tube.

'At last, we will murder amid the stars!' FL4K cheered while the two women screamed.

Amara's lasted longer, not due to any veteran status upon Moze's part but because the other woman had a much better lung capacity. She was still scared shit-less despite doing this four or five times before but had to pause and inhale again before screaming once more. And her boobs...

Technically Moze's immense tits weren't bouncing, but that was just because they were pressed flat against her chest. A constant jiggling vibration wiggled its way through her body, through slightly thicker ankles, up somewhat wider thighs, across puffier ass, over her plumpening paunch, staying quite a bit in her immense knockers and then going into her new double chin. A small rip sounded, loud over the roar of the engine.

'Oh fuck was that the engine!?' Amara squeaked, voice high and terrified.

'It was my bra,' Moze admitted, feeling her overloaded sports bra rip apart down the the middle, her heavy boobs flopping out and threatening to hit her in the chin.

'You're...holy shit!' the dark skinned Siren cooed, temporarily distracted by the tits ripping through Moze's shirt.

Until the torpedo hit the Zanara.

....

The three vault hunters hadn't hit near the bridge, they'd slammed into the pleasure yacht in its zoo area. Fortunately Flak had popped out and summoned his own pets to fight off the various cloned dinosaurs aboard for hunting while the two bulkier women extracted themselves. Once Amara was punchign and the Iron Bear mech was out and running, the fight became easy and they swept up the decks.

'Ugh, I'd thought rich people would have better guards,' Amara sighed, splattering yet another round Maliwan drone, 'just robots and robots and not even good ones. Hyperion loaders, I hear those were hard to fight. These things? Too easy?'

'Quit complaining, we're having an easy time,' Moze told her, stomping up in her mech, wincing slightly as each  reverberation made her boobs bounce, their sensitivity a boon in the bedroom and an annoyance on the battlefield piloting a stomping, constantly shooting mech without a bra.

'Too many easy fights make you weak,' Amara said, jumping into the air and slamming down in a flash of electricity again.

'Murder is murder, robot or not,' FL4K claimed.

And the fight went on.

The Zanara was as far from Sanctuary III as it could get while still being a space ship. It was three times as long and twice as wide, the bottom full of exercise rooms, hunting preserves, a vast set of kitchens with digital-constructor food processors and a dune buggy/snow mobile/skiing track. The middle decks were luxurious apartments, each the combined size of Moxxi's bar, Tannis' med lab, the bridge and Marcus' gun store on the Sanctuary. They were fitted with every luxury that could be imagined, be it bedding, entertainment systems and all manner of sexual paraphernalia.

'That is far too many dildos for one room,' Moze said, staring in amazement at the color and length coded display on her screen behind the security droid her machine gun was shredding.

'You should see what's in the other cabin,' Amara called, barely even firing her shot gun and depending mostly on her fists, natural or siren powered.f

'Eww, I can only imagine,' the gunner grunted.

'No seriously, it's labelled 'Siren Feeder' and locked tight,' Amara told her, 'I think, I think Calypso was using it to drain people of their life force or whatever you want to call what she does.'

'Ewww, now I don't want to imagine,' Moze said, 'but it would explain where all the people are.

The pleasure yacht was strangely absent of actual people. Lots of robots but none of the gym perfected beauties that the Calypso twins' video had promised, these rooms seemingly abandoned.

'Death has beat us to this place, it is no ship but a tomb,' FL4K added creepily.

The top deck was...well it was as close to paradise as could be imagined. A very strong and perfectly translucent force field covered the entire top of the ship. It was a perfectly tended park divided into lots of pools and glades, a buccolic paradise great for holding a party or orgy...except for there being no one there besides withered husks of ash and purple crystals.

'Looks like Tyreen,' a squeaky Lilith came over the echo line, then deepened after an inhaler puff, 'looks like Tyreen Calypso got to the guests. Keep your eyes out for her, you especially Amara. You see her, open up and don't let her get close.'

The rustle of a chip bag was audible.

'I plan on letting her get as close as possible,' Amara promised, but kept her shot gun up.

'Oh come on and get close,' Tyreen's voice cut across the line, 'I'm feeling hungry little Tiger and after a firehawk think a house cat sounds tasty.'

'You're not getting her,' Lilith promised, voice squeaky at the end of her sentence.

'Oh, is that your asthma coming back in, Lilian Parker?' Tyreen laughed, 'Yeah, we did our research. Don't worry, we'll be flooding the echo-net with before and after combinations showing the whale you used to be compared to the skinny siren you pretended to be after you got those tats by mistake. Tell me, you getting fat again yet? We gonna make it a three part set?'

'You don't get to talk to her ever you shit! I'm gonna beat your skinny ass to a pulp and make you beg before I end you, bitch!' Amara shouted back, although the link was already dead.

'Seriously though, Amara shoot her if you see her,' Moze insisted, 'don't get cocky, remember what happened to Lilith.'

'Exactly,' Lilith said over the echo-link, angry and with her mouth full, 'if she touches you for long enough then no more siren powers Amara, be careful and just shoot her.'

'I'll shoot her, after beating her to a pulp,' Amara muttered, flexing.

What had happened to Lilith scared her. Just as the Fire Hawk was going back to fat, asthmatic nerd would Amara go back to short, skinny, timid geek? No, she never would, she'd beat Calypso to death and show her what happened to anyone who made the Tiger feel afraid.

The three moved on, finding no one...but the signs of an abandoned party. One that had had a lot of food at it, an amount alien to the gym bunnies Amara had seen on screen.

'Something's weird, keep your head up,' Amara told them all, turning at the sound of a voice.

'What the fuck do you mean there's no more caviar?" Tyreen Calypso's annoying voice sounded.

'Well, no more here honey,'  Katagawa's usually sneering voice stammered, 'I can get more, I promise!'

'Well you better you fuck!' the vile siren promised, 'or you're next on the line for absorption, because I'm fucking hungry!'

A buff asian man in yellow body armor stumbled out from behind a tree, the Vault Hunters recognizing Katagawa Jr, the murderous mastermind behind the horrible invasion of Promethea.

'Shit, vault hunters,' the Maliwan exect snarled, drawling an energy sword summoning holograms of himself, 'well at least now I can kill you myself!'

'Kata, who is it?' Tyreen screeched from behind him, 'I can't see from here!'

'Just Vault Hunters sweety, don't worry I'll handle it!' he said, going from mustache twirling villain to belabored boyfriend on a dime.

'Yeah, like I'm gonna bother getting up for those losers. Just hurry it up candy buns, I am starving. And save the Siren, I could use her strength boosts anymore,' Tyreen whined.

'Uh, sorry you had to hear that,' Katagawa said, going into a battle pose, 'so now its time for you to die!'

'Please rich boy, I'm gonna bend you into a cork screw and use you to pull Lilith's powers out of your twig of a girl friend,' Amara laughed, cracking her knuckles for a good fight at least.

Moze blasted him and his illusions with her grenade launcher. Katagawa had an excellent shield but Moze had a lot of ammo and she kept her finger on the trigger, reverberations making her tits and belly shake as jello in an earth quake, until Katagawa was just ash. Amara glared at her, angry over the fight being denied as a kid being told they couldn't go to the candy store.

'Mission first, pleasure later,' the gunner told her.

'Fiiiinnnne,' Amara dragged out, charging into the grove, 'but Calypso's skinny ass is....oh...oh...oh no. No no no NO. You two have to see this shit, now.'

There was an urgency in the Sirens tone, one that made Moze break out into a sweat inside her air conditioned mech and the food in Lilith's mouth turn to ash.

'Amara, what's going on?' Lilith demanded, despite the misery of her stuffing sitting up in her command chair with a lurch, the sweats she'd had clap trap grab stretched half transparent, 'talk to me Amara, did she get you?"

'She, she, ....she...,'the muscular Siren barley managed to get out, voice turning into strange, high pitched yips along with the sound of repeated thumping.

'Moze, Moze, get me a visual!' Lilith demanded as if the mech pilot wasn't crashing through the woods at full speed, heart hammering and mouth dry.

Moze broke through several fruit trees and her heart thumped when she saw Amara on the ground in the fetal position, rocking back and forth. Oh God, she'd been hit, stripped bare and her psyche had broken down, she was reduced to a crying mess...except her blue tattoos were still shining.

'Amara what's...oh my God,' Moze guffawed as her gun cams saw what Amara had seen, jaw hanging open.

'Moze what's...oh holy shit,' Lilith said, dropping her chip bag right onto Clap-Trap as the bridge showed their arch enemy.

Tyreen Calypso lay sprawled out on a kingsized bed, her body outlined in platters of turkeys stripped to the bone, emptied five gallon pots of fondue, pyramids of emptied chocolate boxes, a bowling alley's worth of champagne bottles and more caviar than three years of partying with aristocrats could hope to eat.

'Now my memory isn't the best, but wasn't she a lot...less meaty?' Clap-Trap asked.

'Take a picture, it'll last longer,' the enemy Siren promised with a glare, that should have been intimidating  but wasn't.

First off the feared 'God-Queen' was hand cuffed to the bed by leopard skin cuffs. Secondly, her starving jackal physique had lost the gaunt hardness that gave it so much threat. Her sunken cheek bones were covered up with jowls, her narrow neck pudgy, while her lean shoulders were rounded and heavy, leading to her beefy arms. Tyreen's A cup boobs had ballooned out to a soft C and a saggy D, her gaunt waist wasn't forming the start of a double roll only because she was stuffed so immensely. She was wearing a pair of black silk, fur lined panties that did no favor to the stretch marks on her lazy thighs and sloppy lower gut. She'd gone from stick thin influencer to dumpy mess.

'Fuck yes I will,' Amara laughed, springing up and pulling out her Echo-log, taking picture after picture from multiple angles, 'hold on Calypso, what shows off your rolls the best?'

'Shut the fuck up skinny, when I get out of here I'm gonna drain you dry!' Tyreen promised.

The others were too stunned to do anything, only Amara experienced enough at fat to handle seeing this much bitchy siren.

'Big boast from a woman chained to the bed,' Amara laughed, 'you look twice the size you were when you were in those adds. Do your followers know what a big pile of blubber you are now? You get addicted to those mega burgers you were shot gunning or did eating human souls catch up to you? Were you using photo shop to look thin all along, or did you gain a hundred pounds in four weeks?'

'...shut up slut!' was all Tyreen could manage, struggling pointlessly in her handcuffs, salivating at the ripped Siren right in front of her, brimming with power.

'Oh well, enough chat,' Amara said evenly, drawing a brand new Jakob's shot gun, 'I wanted to beat you to death, but everyone was saying to not touch you and while I am wise as well as beautiful and strong, I guess they're right. Time to die, bitch!'

As Amara racked the slide, Tyreen's eyes widened and her body glowed orange. The cult leader vanished in a puff of teleportation, appearing a hundred yards away up a set of stairs leading to the bridge.

'Fuck yeah, Fire-Hawk powers!' Tyreen laughed.

'Come on, let's kill her!' Amara yelled, charging in as Tyrene started teleporting hundreds of bandits in behind her.

'Say hello to my followers, who can all handle a real woman!' Tyreen yelled at them, sending in the hordes of psychos.

'You sure about that?' Amara yelled back as the culitsts paused at the transformation of their queen.

'Go get her!' Tyreen shouted at them, siren tattoos glowing in anger, 'she's threatening me, your ascending God-queen!'

'Uhhh...For the Twin-Gods!' one pyscho yelled, raising up a saw axe and charging at Amara, mind too insane to question why Tyreen was now fat.

Moze and FL4K snapped out of their amazed funk as Amara started shooting and soon battle was joined again. The psychos were about as useful as the bots, what Moze's missiles and FL4K's sniping didn't kill, Amara's flashing fist pulverized. They worked as an excellent team, the siren too tough to get past and the ranged specialists blasting everything that tried to overwhelm her apart. Tyreen's face fell from confidence to terror as she realized that the Siren she'd wanted as a snack was coming after her to kick her ass and that her stolen fire hawk powers needed a minute to recharge.

'Oh fuck,' Tyreen stammered, charging up the stairs and showing Amara her jiggling, cellulite coated ass.

'Oh fuck is right, fat ass!' Amara laughed, firing her shot gun again and again at the ass in front of her, only the other Siren's excellent shield blocking the damage.

Tyreen only had a few points left in her shield and was red as a beet in the face, covered in sweat and gasping as she hauled her overloaded body through a door. A pudgy hand hit the close and lock button, the portal slamming shut just as Amara finished reloading and fired again. Tyreen breathed a little easier (but not much, she was gasping) in the bridge, an automated room containing just a computer and the vault key, held behind multiple maliwan fire walls and force fields that even a Siren's powers couldn't get through.

Less could be said about the door.

'Little pig, little pig, let me in! the Vault Hunter yelled, door deforming as she rained punches on to it, the steel buckling and rattling, 'it's the big bad tiger and I'm gonna huff and puff and blow you're fucking head off!'

'Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,' Tyreen stammered, cursing Katagawa's stupid ass for not letting her bring more disposable, consumable psychos or his own mercenaries onto the ship earlier, his idiot claims that her being seen during the gaining process would fuck with PR, then cursing him again as she tried to get the vault key fragment's fire wall open.

'Come on, open the door and I'll make it a head shot!' Amara cackled, actually breaking off one of the door hinges, 'You know there's no point delaying it, you can't hide from me and you sure as hell can't run!'

Tyreen thought about trying to tackle and drain this psychotic siren as she came through the door, but the sight of Amara's pyschic arms ripping steel like card board kicked that thoguht right out of her head. The Calypso was a natural bully and her response to seeing a much, much stronger enemy coming at her with no fear was to run the fuck away.

'Fuck, take the vault key and have fun getting fat bitch!' Tyreen gasped and teleported away just as Amara burst in swinging.

'Ahhh, fuck!' the ripped Siren yelled, slamming a fist onto a desk and crumpling it.

'What's going on?" Lilith asked from Sanctuary III.

'Fucking coward ran off,' Amara's cultured voice seethed, 'she left the vault key behind though.'

'Alright, collect it if you can and then get back here,' Lilith sighed.

'I will but frankly, why?' Amara asked her, as her anger fell remembering all those luxurious apartments and high quality food processors, 'why don't we transfer flag over to this ship?'

'Well, the Sanctuary III has character and home spun spirit and...,' the crimson raider commander tried to say.

'Radioactive water came out of my shower this morning Lilith,' Amara reminded her.

'...I'll be right over.'

....

A few hours later and the Crimson Raiders were fully transferred over to the new ship with all their equipment, despite some grumbling from Ellie about the pleasure barge being over engineered.

Amara was down in her new room, installing a pull up bar and punching bag and just giving a few hundred experimental pull ups when her echo-net communicator hummed.

'Amara, up to the bridge please,' Lilith said, 'Tannis has finished her analysis of the vault key...you need to hear this.'

'Ugh, I am never going to get to 170 at this rate,' Amara sighed, dropping down and beginning walking towards the bridge.

On her hands of course.

When the lithe siren finally hopped back onto her feet, a little dizzy, she saw that Lilth's face looked grave.

Well, it looked soft and kinda greasy to be honest. All the chips she'd stress eaten today listening to the gunfights really smearing on her lips. But also grave.

'We've figured out why Calypso was like she was,' Lilith told her, 'and its...weird.'

'I've discovered that these vault key fragments don't need to be whole to open a vault,' Tannis, the rather lunatic and still slender scientist told them, 'I was talking to my tooth brush this morning and he was talking about how a full tube of tooth paste doesn't do any better work than a half empty one.'

'...okay,' Amara asked her, 'and this involves me how? Besides going and ripping this vault wide open and kicking the ass of what ever is inside.'

'Just this fragment of the vault key can open the vault, but it requires a larger charge,' Tannis said, as if this was obvious, 'which requires a larger siren to power it.'

'Larger? You mean that Tyreen was getting fatter just so she could charge this up?' Amara asked, professionally offended someone was gaining not to pleasure her, 'ugh, no wonder her ass was so big.'

'Which means we can open the vault and get what's in it before the Calypsos but, well that would mean...' Lilith said, letting the question hang in the air.

'Hey, I've been trying to bulk up but there's a war on,' Amara said to her rapidly ballooning commander, smacking her biceps for emphasis, 'I should have three more inches on these things if my pull ups weren't being interrupted!'

'Okay, obviously the muscle woman can't understand,' Tannis sighed, 'the key needs to be charged by a siren of now less than three hundred pounds.'

The word hung heavy in the air. Amara's mouth was suddenly dry as the two looked at her.

'Amara I understand you value your physique but, this is important,' Lilith told her, seeing cold sweat bead onto Amara's body.

Get fat? Lose her perfect muscles? Cover them up with fat? Get weak? Get slow? Get lazy? Eat...carbs? No, she was the Tiger, Tiger's didn't get fat...

'I...can't,' Amara said, gesturing at her muscular waist, 'My muscle regens to fast, it uses up to many calories. It'd be like asking you to get fat before you lost your powers. Almost impossible.'

It might not even be a lie. Amara had held to her physical fitness goals without any slack for years, never once daring to test her limits. Indulgence wasn't part of who she wanted to be, strong, powerful and fast.

'There is a feeding chamber in this very ship,' Tannis insisted, 'and I'm certain that although it might take a few months, you'd soon be-'

She was cut off as the echo-screen buzzed to life, as it was set to do when a new video from the twins was launched. Everyone on board might hate the Calypsos, but they gave up so much intel they all had to watch.

'What's up super fans!?' Tyreen asked, looking rail thin, only for the image to fall over, replacing it with her newly obese figure, 'And guess who's jumped onto the body positivity train! That's right, me!'

'Is she serious?' Amara asked, turned from her own predicament.

'And I'm totally serious!' Tyreen yelled, looking down on her once ultra trim body with barely concealed despair, 'I don't hate ...any part of being this big...but more importantly I need to get bigger! Because for the COV to seize our destiny and open the gate vault, I need to open the vault on Promethea!'

'How, she doesn't have a key fragment?' Tannis asked, only for the chunky Tyreen to hold up a fragment identical to the recovered one Tannis held.

'With this key fragment we stole from Atlas!' Tyreen said just as an apology email came in from the Atlas CEO.

'Fucking Rhys,' LIlith sighed, running a hand over her greasy face.

'And I'm just ninety...ninety pounds away from my goal,' Tyreen said with an air of desperation, 'so...oh God...I need a new type of donation! Food! and no, not human body parts you loveable maniacs! I need twinkies and candy bars and ice cream and bacon and ...pancakes and waffles and doughnuts and cake ...oh...so we're opening up five new tiers! Plump tier has you paying ten grand a month to see premier feeding videos...feeding videos Troy are you nuts? I don't want people, seeing me like this at all!'

'Its fine Sis, all the rage anymore,' Troy Calypso whispered back on camera, the two counting on their audience being too stupid and insane to notice.

'So...then there's fat tier which gets to suggest snacks,' Tyreen went on, near tears.

A donation bar was already filling up besides the mass murderer and digistructors behind her were humming to life, printing doughnuts like mega corps printed money..

'Don't forget to like, follow and obey,' she said without energy.

The three women onboard the newly captured pleasure barge blinked at the very odd display.

'Okay, there's no way I can hit three hundred pounds before that, fat ass gets there' Amara pointed out, 'so let's let her open the vault and kick her ass later.'

'No, no we have to get it first. If we let her pick the battlefield again, we'll lose again. On this ship we hit her when she wasn't ready, if she gets in first she'll be waiting for us,' Lilith pointed out, 'no, what we have to do is get in first.'

'Its not mathematically possible!' Tannis objected, 'nor chemically or I suppose even musically!'

'Yes, what she said!' Amara pointed out desperately, as hypocritical as she was buff.

'Not for Amara,' Lilith said, 'but for some one else. Set a course for Athenas, we've got an old pair of friends to go see.'

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Chapter 6: The Inner Peace of the Outerly Obese

When she could manage it, Moze had a ritual to do before landing on a new planet.

Nothing religious, not really, but just a little routine to ease her mind. It involved checking over her Mech to make sure every system was at maximum, fueled up and ready to go with its magazines topped off, inner screen wiped clean and seat vacuumed off of any crumbs. The last was a new addition after her snacking habit, which Moze was trying really hard to kick on this the third day of her diet. She caught herself reaching for the pockets of her new size ten combat pants and stopped herself after checking out the magazines, vowing to keep the ration bars for an emergency. The whole process took a lot longer, her boobs getting in the way of everything and her back too weak for holding any angle for long but she tried to let that discomfort be a reminder not to cheat her diet again.

Breakfast had been enough of a cheat day for a month.

Then, after cleaning and oiling up all of her guns, the soldier hit the showers. Not the palatial one bigger than the orphanage she'd grown up in in her personal quarters, but the public athletic one next to the gym she should really start using once she managed to get up early enough in the day. Some might find it odd, but after a life time in an army barracks the vet found it odd to shower off alone.

Once her combat boots, clothes and helmet inside a locker, the short stack soldier grabbed a towel and headed into the marble floored shower-spa, which had a gigantic fountain of champagne in the center and a water proofed robotic masseuses. The sheer oppulence of the room made the child soldier sick to her stomach, although that might just be hunger. She was always hungry anymore, but just because her new surroundings were soft as butter didn't mean she had to be too. This was as big as she was getting.

'Yeah, keep telling yourself that chubs,' Moze sighed to herself as she walked into a personal shower and saw herself in the mirror of its surface.

What caught the gunner's eye immediately were her boobs. Moze's A cups were unrecognizable, an enormity of titty flesh that completely covered her rib cage. She twisted left and right, seeing the butter soft boobs sway and jiggle. No more were they perfectly round as they'd been at a C, having gone up to an E Moze had a set of tear drops that were beginning to pull lower. The mercenary hefted them gently, feeling them bounce up and gave them a squeeze, then a smile. Her nipples immediately hardened, jutting out like sniper rifle bullets from her tea cup aerola and the gunners body shivered.

They were getting remarkably sensitive, as Amara had shown her during their new weekly Monday morning fuck session. At first the shredded Siren had moaned and bitched about putting off her lifting session a little bit but the moment Moze had her new magnum tatas out she'd started singing a different tun. Moze had enjoyed the power her now buttery body gave her over Amara, but she'd enjoyed having sex hanging from the ceiling, Amara's siren-arms pinching, tingling and thrusting while her real arms held them from a pull up bar until they'd both come, the Siren's powers blasting out several light fixtures. Moze had found herself both thrilled and hungry, for food which Amara stuffed her even more with despite her protesting about just maintaining now and hungry for more sex, her libido rising ever higher until they'd gone again, the siren sucking and sucking and sucking her off until Moze screamed again.

'More, more more, more,' the gunner had groaned, trembling with after shocks, 'fuck me you big gorgeous muscle goddess, come on and fuck me again!'

'I'd love to Moze, 'Amara had chuckled, springing back up with ease, 'but I need to get pumping.'

Amara had strutted, showing off her gorgeously fit shape in the mirror, casting an eye between her brown muscles and Moze's light tan pudge and smiled. But knowing she needed to get lifting. Much as she'd wanted to go three for three with Moze's rack, she had no wish to ever know if her muscles could decline. After she'd pranced off to lift, Moze had gradually pulled herself up, finding herself sore and breathless, admitting that she was more out of shape than she'd thought

And she'd thought she was pretty out of shape.

Back in the present in the shower, she shook her head, feeling her double chin wiggle along side her tatas. There were only a few hours until planet fall on Athenas and Moze needed to attend a briefing not smelling like sex and robot oil. But her own physical puffiness was hard to ignore.

'These boobs for instance? They're a little soft,' she admitted to herself, hitting the water and giving out a giggle shriek and a jump as it came out cold for a few seconds before turning into blessed heat.

'Stupid luxury yacht, think it'd come out hot immediately,' Moze sighed, beginning to soap up.

A little soft didn't accurately describe her body. The rail thin gunner had added nearly half her body weight in a couple lazy, over fed months and it was all frosting and no cake. Rubbing her soap over her tits found them noticeably unfirm, like a woman who'd had a couple kids and she didn't exactly bounce up as much as she did down. Moze had caught a case of the saggies, nothing too drastic yet but her big 34Es would now fail the pencil test.

Soaping downwards showed that her growth wasn't confined to her chest. Having any sort of stomach had been alien to the skinny mech driver, but excess had added excess. She sucked her stomach in as far as she could and put her back ramrod straight enough to make her old drill sergeant proud, looking at herself in the foggy mirrors and seeing a short, very stacked woman with very big, very firm tits and a slight, budding paunch. A beauty who needed to do some core work and cut some carbs, but a 9.5 out of 10 if you liked em vertically tiny but immense in the chest. Unfortunately this was an illusion, releasing it and letting her shoulders resume their now customary slump let her boobs go back to resting on her chest and her beer belly come out fully to play.

'I don't mind the tits, even if they are getting in the way, but this has gotta go away,' Moze said, grabbing the gut with both hands and giving a not so pleasant pinch.

The gunners gullet wasn't as big as the mega-gut Lilith was sporting anymore, but it sure as heck wasn't flat. Moze was wide when viewed from the front and paunchy when viewed in profile, with a squishy round volley ball of a gut and no waistline at all anymore. She hefted her grumbling belly, pinched her surging love handles and sighed, remembering when she'd been so skinny Amara could put her hands almost around her waist.

'You look pregnant,' she told herself, 'and not even like skinny you would look pregnant, you look like a chubby girl who got pregnant.'

Of course, part of that was due to the additives that Amara was dosing her with. The Siren's expertise in dietary science had led her to cunningly fill all of her little harem's favorite foods with both thousands of extra calories and transfats, but with a birth control pill that lowered the metabolism and increased appetite, along with an experimental fertility drug that led to a greatly boosted sex drive and a plunging metabolism, when combined causing the subject to have soft skin and weaker muscles. Added up, it meant that Moze's body was both convinced it was pregnant and needing to gain as much weight as possible and convinced it needed to get pregnant now.

'lucky the Amazon you found likes fat chicks,' Moze sighed, remembering back when she had cheek bones instead of an increasingly round face.

After soaping up her widening hips and suddenly inflating ass, a minor addition in comparison, she started shampooing, running fingers through her hair. Which was getting long, Moze decided to give herself another buzz cut at some point and hold onto at least some kind of discipline. While her hair was soaped up she heard the door open, but didn't care. Everyone knew she was fattening up like a bear for winter, you didn't gain fifty pounds at 5' and have it not be noticed. People saw her cleavage canyon or the belly that was left exposed all day. She wasn't ashamed of being big, not when it meant fucking Amara weekly, only of being incapable, hence her desire to turn some of this ultra soft pudding into muscle.

Her only real disappointment was that she couldn't masturbate. Despite two big mindblowers earlier Moze was still horny as a school girl and rubbing her succulent tummy and tantalizingly soft hooters was half enough to make her come. Her sore clit throbbed, demanding a rub but she wouldn't do that with some one else there. Guessing she had enough time if she hurried, Moze turned off the water and grabbed a towel, wrapping it over her boobs and stepping out to see...

'You'll need to carry your bra in with you,' Moxxi cooed from a massage chair, sipping a flute of champagne buck naked as a robot rubbed her lower back, 'otherwise they'll be at your knees by the time your thirty.'

'What?' the short stack gunner asked, trying to pull her eyes off Moxxi.

'Your tits, sugar,' the saloon keep smiled, 'your new to being a big girl, eh? You've got to keep em supported, especially once they start milking.'

'I'm not pregnant,' Moze denied, trying to keep her towel closed.

'Coulda fooled me. You're looking like you're pretty big in a family way,' Moxxi smiled again, 'although if Sirens can get you knocked up, do let me know. Wouldn't want baby number three to come along by surprise till after the wedding.'

The gunner's face darkened, but she was still looking right at Moxxi's most considerable asset.

'You can be a bridesmaid of course and join in on the threesomes and foursomes, I know the tiger has an appetite,' the unaged Milf mused, 'but solo sex is just for us. I'm a traditionalist that way. I won't kick you out for getting chubby either, I know Amara's got a softness for some chubby chicks every once and a while.'

Moze was jealous over sharing Amara with Lilith, who she at least respected as having been a bad ass once. But Moxxi's extreme and in Moze's opinion, unearned sexuality made her purely jealous. Normally she'd have felt anger over hearing the claim that this big tittied, and yes she realized the new hypocrisy, clown was claiming sole propriety over her fuck buddy. But she was all focused on...

'Your ass is gigantic,' the gunner said.

Moxxi wasn't wearing her make up, showing the face of a woman in her late twenties. It blushed in anger and shock that her new additions had been noticed.

'Just a little...' Moxxi denied, trying to find a lie.

The Siren liked variety in her girls and with Lilith all belly and Moze developing full blown gigantic on her tits, that left Mad Moxxi to go full pear. The MILF had previously been 36 x 24 x34, made to look thinner with her corset, but munching nothing but 1600 calorie 'diet' bars dosed with beef cattle hormones was had given Moxxi a severe case of middle aged spread focused on her hips. Six inches of dough across her back side, her reactivated Hodunk fat girl genes giving her big child bearers and as her ass was swelling up to the size of a volley ball each, with a thick layer of cellulite over it. That spread down over her thick, lazy thighs (getting so big she'd started wearing pants to hide them instead of her normal fishnets, too embarrassing for the ultra sultry spy master to show off), big enough her thighs had started rubbing.

'booty gain for the wedding,' Moxxi lied, 'huge asses are in again you know.'

'So you're gaining this all intentionally?' Moze asked, eyeing both the champagne glass, the wrapper of a diet bar and how the sea of Moxxi's cellulite was wobbling and wiggling under a massage from a pair of robot hands, 'just to have a bigger ass?'

Weirdly enough Moze found herself completely not turned on, it seems her taste really did run for muscular bad asses.

'Uhhh...yeah, yes,' Moxxi lied, draining her champagne.

'Well, good luck with that,' Moze snorted, seeing that the bar keep had a double chin.

Geeze, Amara was really going full hog with this whole fat fetish thing, the gunner thought as she walked out of the showers, supporting her boobs as best she could because bitch Moxxi might be, her advice about sagging was good.

Moxxi glared daggers at Moze's broadening back. Some sluts got all the luck and although her rival was blessed in the chest, Moxxi was glad that sagging was in Moze's future. But the little bitch had a point, decades of denied middle aged spread were hitting her at once. Painfully shed Hodunk fat was all coming back, both to her wobbling ass and to her rebudding gut. She was hungry all the time, the diet bars failing to curb her appetite like promised no matter how many she ate, and always tired and out of breath. Her corsets were squeezing her harder every day and her bustle skirt wasn't able to hide how big her hips were getting.

'I'm gonna lose every pound of this the hard way,' Moxxi vowed, refilling her champagne glass.

That was her only option after all. The luxury yacht's New-U quick change station had administrator locked to prevent it being used for body weight alterations and the old one from the Sanctuary III had been broken in transit in a strange bit of fate. Amara had been behind both of course, wanting Moxxi completely trapped in regards to gaining weight. Having stolen the admin pass code from the bridge, Amara had repeatedly altered the food digistructures for Moxxi's userID, meaning everything she ordered to eat was fattening. Moxxi had had only celery that morning and each stalk had more calories than a stick of butter.

'Ugh, gotta get skinny again,' she sighed, 'how am I gonna get into my wedding dress if my ass is this big?'

...

Lilith lay reclined in Tannis' new med lab, idly tapping her heavy gut (a habit from her fat girl days) and trying to ignore how roomy her C cup bra felt. Porking up sixty pounds since losing her powers, ten pounds in just the last week, was pretty extreme but this was about a different health problem.

'60/20 Lilith, a shame that the astigmatism is too extreme to be corrected surgically. Interestingly, sixty over twenty is the opposite of the odds' Tannis reported from her computer, 'that my massage chair said your odds of getting Maya off that planet was. I don't normally listen to people but she was very insistent on retiring.'

'Maya will understand when we explain,' the leader of the crimson raiders said, sighing at the freshly digi-structed glasses Tannis handed to her and sliding them on, 'she's still a vault hunter even after all that happened.'

Immediately the blurry room became distinct, Lilith's eye sight artificially corrected. She let out a happy sigh and then caught herself in a mirror, a porky, big bellied nerd in sweat pants and a Tiger of Partali T, Amara's hard abs stretched over Lilith's growing gut. Lilith's bottom roll poured over it, a pale slab of flab with a growing number of stretch marks beneath a deepning crease on its way to a double belly. Her breasts already looked proportionally small and would look smaller without a bra.

God, she even had thick specks again, although not as bad as her old cheap coke bottles. Behind the glass, her striking yellow eyes, she noticed, were almost fully boring brown again, but at least her bright red hair was natural and she was still twenty four instead of her natural age of thirty six. Losing her powers seemed to be completely resetting her to where she'd been, good for age and bad for everything else. It was a blast from the past and not that welcome, even though Amara was cuddling, coddling and praising her growth every day. She stood up with a fat girl grunt, that she very much noticed, and walked past Tannis who was seemingly the only woman not getting a gut.

'Well, you know people best,' Tannis said, 'now, protocol says that we need to measure your waistline, hips, blood pressure, cholesterol and glucose.'

'How about later,' Lilith said, moving out as quick as she'd could, a long morning of heavy junk food having made her ready to hurl at the slightest effort.

Really she should cut back on all the junk, yes it was enjoyable to eat but she felt like complete shit: tired, out of breath constantly, warm all the time, and just greasy despite spending two hours in the tub every day. Okay the dopamine rush from her old comfort foods going down the whole was magnified by its now close association with movie nights with Amara, but really, she should stay at being just obese instead of the super sized blob she'd been. The thing was, it was easier to think about being that gigantic nerd blob than it was to picture herself as a powerful, rail thin siren, her time as the most powerful woman in the galaxy feeling like a fading dream.

'Gotta get my powers back,' Lilith grunted, waddling her 180lb bulk towards the bridge for the pre-mission briefing, already late.

'Commander, where are you? We're waiting,' her tormentor, lover and protector Amara, who'd made Tyreen run like a bitch, asked from the bridge, 'are you alright? Need help getting up?'

'No, I'm en route. Give me five minutes,' Lilith said, leaving the rooms and med stations on the second deck for the huge park of the top one.

She paused briefly by a long table on the way to her bridge, strategically placed to have all her favorite junk on it.

'Make it fifteen,' Lilith said.

....

'Take that you Maliwan dogs!' Amara howled in joy, launching a flying kick to a huge bandit's crotch.

The man crumbled in pain, letting her crack his head with her fists. Athenas was swarming with COV cultists and Maliwan troops, an invasion launched by the Calypsos to capture the same target the crimson raiders were after. Having only exercised eight hours that morning due to some sexy time with Moze she was making up for lost time kick ass, moving as fast and hard as she could so she could leave the planet, stronger, harder and faster than she'd been on landing on it. She was deeply out pacing both FL4K and Moze, leaving a trail of ruined bandits behind her as she neared the Siren Maya's location.

'Amara, wait up!' Moze said over the com.

'Your zeal for murder is admirable, but too much,' FL4K said.

'Gotta make up for lost work outs!' Amara laughed, running faster.

It was strange, going to meet another Siren. Maya had helped defeat handsome Jack and in the photo was a beautiful, slender young woman with bright blue hair and a leanly curvy figure, emphasis on her sculpted buns. Amara would have purred to fattening her up, especially as she thought about what the combination of Siren powers could do in the bed room, but three at once was about her limit even with eight arms.

'But better her getting fat than me,' the Siren admitted, parkouring up a tall building to build up her muscles rather than just walk around and diving down into a pack of bandits.

Once they were defeated she ran on, faster and going out of her way to lengthen the run, routing a whole company of bandits and Maliwan troops falling before her glorious, unmatched skill.

'Stand and die dogs!' she yelled as she saw a pack begin running before she even entered a simple residential street on the mountainous paradise world.

'Fuck it he's coming!' one yelled, running straight at her.

Thirty bandits at once was a hard fight, even for her. But Amara had bought an excellent shield and was as tough as she was gorgeous, surviving when it went down and rapidly healing, every punch making her faster and stronger. She saw a gigantic psycho, the biggest she'd ever seen rampaging towards her, killing his own side while cackling in glee.

'TIME TO TOSS THE NIPPLE SALADS!' the giant psycho laughed, carnage around him.

'Oh this is gonna be fun,' Amara said, launching a line of lightning fists at him.

'YOUR BRAIN IS SHINY!' the enormous, one eyed warrior yelled, hurt but still coming.

'Oh this is gonna be real fun,' the siren laughed.

She ducked the lightning fast axe blows and landed a punch with four fists on his stomach. It would have exploded anyone else but he simply howled with glee.

'YOUR FIST AIN'T STRONG ENOUGH FOR THE BOX ART!' he yelled, kicking Amara so hard in the gut she flew tumbling in the air and landed on her rock hard ass.

'Oh, that's a nice kick,' Amara grinned, hopping right up and going back at him.

His axe was fast as lightning, but Amara was even faster. She kept dodging and kept punching, again and again and again but this giant lunatic just wouldn't quit. Amara found herself beginning to sweat heavily and pant, something that only happened on days where she worked out twenty hours at a stretch.

'Why... won't...you...die?' she gasped, ducking an axe blow and spinning to trip him to the ground.

'GOTTA PROTECT BLUE TATTOO!' he howled, grabbing her ankle and slamming her around like a rag doll.

Amara fought to move, but she was caught tight and her shot gun had been empty, a foolish over sight, when the fight started. She felt bones break and her vision darken, only for strange, blue energy to suddenly seize her. Amara found herself flying in the air, one eye swelling shut and all her ribs broken.

'Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes,' the Tiger purred, summoning her power and slamming down...only to find her fall arrested, 'what the hell? I'm Phase-Locked?'

'Krieg!' a kind, but angry voice yelled, 'what did I tell you! We had guests coming!'

'GOTTA MAKE A BICYCLE OF MEAT TO PROTECT BLUE TATTOO!' the psycho howled, his breath falling, 'I...AM A HUMAN...PUNCHing bag... of pecs...and I...oh...oh...oh no, oh no Maya I...oh no I did it again.'

Amara twisted listlessly, seeing the giant kneeling in front of a woman in black robes with long blue hair, her hands on his mask, 'Its okay Krieg, you were just protecting me. You haven't undone all the work we've put in. Here, I think this street is safe. Go wash up and make some food.'

'Fffood, like like MEAT?' Krieg howled, raising his arms.

'No, no make this girl some cookies. Skinny little thing needs it,' the blue haired woman said.

'Cookies...yeah, you're right. Cookies are good,' the giant bandit said, walking off calmly, 'I'm...I'm sorry whoever you are.'

'Apologies for him, its been years since he had an episode but with this invasion, its hard for him to know when to stop,' the blue haired woman said, raising up a blue tattooed arm and hovering Amara over, 'come with me please, you must be Amara.'

'And you...don't look like you're picture,' the injured but healing Tiger admitted, not admitting she needed the rest.

That fight had been enormously hard and she needed a fatty right the fuck now. And a steak, she was exhausted.

'Cooking helps Krieg focus and well, I hate to see anything go to waste,' she smiled, triple chins bulging.

Maya in her picture was modelesque. Maya in the flesh was bigger than plus size, a two hundred and eighty pound blimp of a woman. Big heavy boobs displayed by her yellow shirt, a round belly curving around her meaty hips and making her black cape flare, thick sturdy legs straining her pants, ass cheeks like pillow cases and a perfectly round face.

'Weird question but are you seeing anyone?' Amara immediately asked, loyalty little before a perfect 10, 'and are you gay?'

'Uh, maybe a little bicurious but as to the first, Krieg and I...well when he's well we're planning on getting married,' Maya admitted with a grin, 'and starting a family.'

'Oh, well congratulations,' Amara said, 'can I uh, can I get down now?'

'Of course not, your leg is broken,' Maya told her, 'come inside and relax, we can wait for the other vault hunters to get here while you eat cookies.'

'Eat? No, no I'm on a very careful diet,' the ripped Siren stammered, 'I'm all about self discipline and a lean protein and vegetables diet.'

'We don't say the M word around Krieg,' Maya said, 'alright? No meat, just sit down and eat your cookies.'

Maya pulled her into a very cozy house, the giant psycho wearing an aprons and chefs hat as he rapidly whipped up cookie dough. Amara felt like vomiting as she saw him adding butter, so much disgusting sugar and all that horrible cream to it...

'The cookies are baking but here, having some dough,' Krieg said, 'I'm very sorry about that. When I have to fight its...hard to put the other side down.'

Amara would normally be impressed by the musculature in front of her, but right now her eyes were locked on a horrible pound of chocolate cookie dough.

'Its no problem, it was a fun match,' Amara said feeling like she was going to hurl, 'but you see I can't eat cookies...'

Maya glared at her and Krieg stood shock still, 'If you don't want it I think I have some M, some MEA...SOME MEA'

The bowl glowed blue and Amara found her mouth filling up with cookie dough. The taste was vile, disgustingly sweet, horribly fatty, making her teeth hurt and her stomach revolt.

'She loves it, right Amara?' Maya told her, the obese siren already digging into her own.

'Its...delicious,' the ripped Siren lied, finding her nose phase locked.

She held it as long as she could, but had to eventually swallow. Oh god it was awful, the worst fucking taste in the world, the first carb she'd had in years and the worst. Ewww, oh it was gross...

And Maya kept feeding her, mouthful after mouthful, her gut swelling up and her eyes rolling back in her head as she needed to puke. Mighty her abs might be but after so much dough her stomach started to swell up at the abnormal food, pants biting into the new sphere and Amara found herself in the horrible position of guessing how many miles and sit ups it would take to burn off the horrible fat this binge would breed off of her muscles.

A ding sounded as she finished.

'COOKIES ARE DONE!' Krieg laughed, running off.

'Gods of Partali no,' Amara wheezed, covered in sweat and writhing in discomfort, 'I've got to get out of here...'

'Come on, a measly pound won't wreck that body,' Maya laughed, belly wobbling, 'I have one every morning.'

'Not making me feel better,' Amara gasped, swallowing bile, her body caught in the twin sensations of arousal at Maya's obesity and horror at her own predicament.

'If they don't get eaten he's going to be very, very angry,' Maya said, 'and you're not exactly in a place to fight right now.'

'I beat...ugh, I beat him before,' the tall siren boasted.

'Sure you did,' Maya smiled, licking her spoon clean.

The sound of Moze's Iron Bear made her gasp in joy. Her cavalry had arrived!

Ignoring the gorging Maya, the stuffed Siren staggered to the door. She healed fast but her leg still hurt, magnified by the awful rock of dough bloating out her belly. This was awful, wrong, she was the Tiger, she didn't get stuffed!

'Amara?' Moze's voice called through the sound system of her mech, 'Amara are you okay?'

'Fuck no I'm not!' The siren gasped, 'Listen, listen I've got to go find more bandits to kill. A buff psycho is in there trying to fatten me up, I need you to go inside there and eat!'

'...really? What the...what happened to your stomach?' Moze asked, the excellent camera on her iron bear focusing on the small bulge of painfully swollen flesh at Amara's abs.

'Those cookies will be done any minute, please just get in there and eat!' the Siren begged, bashfully covering up her normally perfect waist.

'Amara, I'm on a diet,' Moze said, poking her own fat gut inside the mech.

'Twice a week,' Amara gasped, 'sex twice a week, you pick the days.'

Moze's robot was silent and from the house came the cry, 'Time FOR ANOTHER batch! Extra butter!'

'Please,' the pained woman moaned.

'Three times a week,' Moze said.

'...Three?' Amara asked her.

'An hour and a half each,' She said, folding her arms under her spectacular rack.

It would balloon the shit out of her, even if she didn't eat the rest of the week. But damn, three super orgasms a week might be worth getting a bit heavier. Amara's eyes bulged, that was a lot of time per day not lifting but as opposed to eating another horrible bite of batter...

'Deal!' she said, running off as fast as she could towards more mercenaries.

Moze chuckled and popped her mech's hatch, setting it to sentinel mode and walking easily into the house, plopping her plump buns down on the bench next to an obese, blue haired siren just as a gigantic psycho laid a tower of really delicious smelling cookies on the table.

'WEREN'T YOU...weren't you thinner and taller a minute ago?' the psycho asked, voice calming as Moze started munching happily.

'Little bit,' the gunner said, 'these are excellent by the way.'

'Oh...I'll go make more,' Krieg said.

'Name's Maya, you must be Moze based on the helmet,' Maya told her, digging in greedily with a very heavy hand.

'Nobody much looks like their pictures anymore, do they?' Moze laughed.

As she ate all she could think was how unflattering that swollen stomach had been on Amara.

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2 hours ago, azbzcz said:

Having played the game (and continuing to play it), this is going to be good to read (just saw the title and was intrigued). The thought of Moze fattening up (if it happens) is enough to keep me glued to this

Thanks for the comments, I hope you like it

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Chapter 7: Calories are the Key pt 1/3

'Maya!' Lilith cried as soon as the blue haired siren was teleported aboard running forwards, slowly, across the luxury lots top deck into a hug.

'Lilith!?' Maya replied in some shock and confusion at the 185 lbs of stuffed, lazy nerd who had Lilith's hair and kind of her voice wobbling towards her

Once beyond nimble, Lil's stumbling run was complicated by a an enormous belly 3/4ths stuffed with salty, sugary junk bouncing along with each step, thighs beginning to seriously rub and a total collapse in her stamina. Every heavy step saw her t-shirt rise higher and higher up her milk pale belly, first the pillowy fupa, then the doughy lower row with its lines of stretch marks and then the ever deepening chasm of the red head's belly button. Belly hit belly at the low speed impact and the two shared a physically awkward and emotionally warm hug, junk food gorged guts pressing tight.

'Maya its so good to see you again!' Lilith told the obese siren, 'you look...'

'Big as a house I know,' Maya laughed, patting her gut, 'Cooking therapy helps Krieg out so much and well I always had a bit of a sweet tooth, so I've been indulging every day. And you...Lilith I'm so sorry, we're going to get those assholes and make them pay.'

'I know, trust me we won't let them rest,' Lilith told her, face reddening in anger, 'but to beat them we've got to ...well you read the echo-message. I hadn't realized that you were this big though...'

Lilith and Maya had stayed in touch after the later had departed Pandora. She'd already been sporting panty lines across a thickening rear and showing a sliver of stomach fat at the belly when leaving, Krieg's cooking substituting for his psychotic rampages, and echo-calls every few months had shown a steadily thickening siren. But the last Lilith had seen her, Maya had only been about two hundred pounds, big and cuddly but lean compared to her marshmallowy self. Her fine facial features had gone round, and her tits were bigger than Lilith's head.

'Like I've said I've become a bit of a piggy. A few extra pounds isn't much,' she laughed, 'just point Krieg to your bakery and Krieg will get right to work! But you though...I didn't know that they'd done this to  you too!'

'They didn't do this to me, I did this to me,' Lilith admitted in embarassment, 'back before I was a siren I had some bad habits my new powers repressed and now that they're gone, well my metabolism left with the tats. Not that Amara slowed it down, we've been kind of dating and she insists on feeding me up.'

'Oh I know how it is, to get cuddled and coddled and stuffed, 'Maya smiled, showing her chins, 'come on, let's get lunch and talk.'

'...wait, where is Amara?' Lilith asked as the other vault hunters teleported back in.

'Oh, she had a big lunch,' Maya told her, 'said she wanted to work it off and there were still some bandits down there.'

....

The next morning and Amara felt like shit.

Her muscles and bones were fine, having rapidly healed back to normal. But the damage to her soul was immense, the Siren feeling physically violated after the awful experience of ingesting carbs. After that she'd made herself vomit and then fought until she was so physically drained, so covered in sweat that she could barely even flex. When she'd returned to the Sanctuary IV, the buff siren had been staggering around, dragging her spent shot gun behind her and with her tongue lolling out.

Stumbling into her room, she supposed she should have been surprised to see someone, but she was so spectacularly spent that her head barely jerked up at seeing Moze.

'Hey there muscles,' the Gunner smiled, 'you're looking a little spent.'

Amara was spent, so spent that it took her a moment to realize that Moze was wearing a pair of fish net panties and matching bra that showed off her stretching nipples. Not particularly supportive, it let her tits hang towards a stomach immensely bloated with cookie dough still. For a moment the numbed Amara could only stare at the inflated pair of tatas.

'Moze, what are...what ...,' the Siren stammered.

'Well, I get three days a week now, remember?' the gunner smiled, looking the muscular siren up and down.

The bloat in her stomach was long gone, but all of Amara's jacked muscles were trembling in overexerted exhaustion. Her steely shoulders slumped, her six pack twitched and her biceps were having a micro-seizure. Moze was fairly certain that she could put the siren on her ass at will right now, which was...

A weird feeling. She'd been attracted to Amara because she was so much stronger than her, so swift and powerful and protective. Being fed and coddled by the other woman, growing fat, soft and lazy had only increased that aura of safety that came when she was next to the Partali vigilante. But when she'd seen Amara stuffed sick and swollen on Athenas, Moze had felt a thrill. She liked the extra heft to her own frame, thought it looked good, although she didn't extend that to fat ass Moxxi and huge gutted Lilith or even maternal Maya. The bulge hadn't suited Amara at all but seeing the hyper confident badass humbled...

'You...you want it now?' Amara asked, 'Moze I'm flattered but I'm about to pass out. I think I wiped out that entire invasion force and I'm not even sure I can do you...'

'Oh, you won't be doing me,' Moze grinned, blowing a bubble of the excellent and sugary gum she'd started chewing, 'I'll be doing you.'

'Me?' the siren questioned.

'Yes, for tonight I'll be taking care of you. Go shower,' the gunner ordered, 'I'll get your costume lain out.'

Amara almost passed out completely in the shower, the hot steam putting her in a deeply relaxed mood. When her hair was fully lathered up and rinsed, her sore muscles soaped up and scrubbed repeatedly, she realized that Moze had said 'Her costume.' What exactly was the short stack talking about? And why was she so dominant all of a sudden? Amara knew her own ambivalence was due to being tired, sore and the awful poison she'd been forced to ingest. She shuddered with its memory as she wrapped a towel around her and stepped out of the steam, seeing Moze sitting  on her bed. Next to her was a-

'Is that a dominatrix outfit?' Amara asked, seeing a tight black corset and minuscule skirt in her size.

'Yep, I'm going to dominate you tonight,' the gunner grinned, 'so get into that latex.'

'You know the dominatrix is the one who dominates right?' the siren retorted, her own steely figure having worn plenty of similar outfits after she'd become famous, as it complimented the feederism fetish.

'...in that case uh, I'll print out one in my size,' Moze said, 'you um...'

'I'll put on the handcuffs,' Amara told her.

Getting Moze into a newly digi-structed dominatrix costume was complicated but with Amara's help, she was soon in black fish nets, stiletto heels, the micro skirt and a black corset. Surprisingly, although it was uncomfortable on her squishy midriff, the support it gave to her heavy breasts took a load off her back. No wonder Moxxi wore one all the time.

'Looking succulent,' Amara told her cheerfully from where she was handcuffed, her arms behind a chair, 'it really shows off how chubby your legs are getting.'

'Why thanks I...didn't give you permission to speak wretch!' Moze said, going into character immediately.

She paced around the muscular, still smiling Siren, putting all of her thoughts towards anger. This was the woman who'd made her plump enough to fail even basic physical training. Who'd given her a 24/7 back ache. Who'd given her a gut big enough to be mistaken for a baby bump. Who she was going to make regret it.

'Now you sniveling wretch, you pathetic failure of a siren, you are in my power and will know what its like to be dominated!' Moze cackled.

'And the safe word is?' the tired Amara asked her cooly.

'What?' Moze said, turning out of character.

'The safe word, one neither of us will forget but won't say by accident as a signal for it being taken too far, not that you can,' Amara bragged.

'Oh...Vladoff. And of course you will, you're going to beg to be spared!,' the gunner told her, walking in front of her prey and putting a sultry strut into her walk, awkwardly swinging her hips and trying to make her packed up boobs bounce, 'now you weak, pitiful, frail, pathetic woman it is time for your worst night mare?'

For Amara it was hard to take seriously. She was tired and well, she could snap these cuffs without her powers. But she decided to play along.

'Oh mistress, I beg to be spared,' she said happily, suppressing a giggle.

'Good! Well, to bad!' Moze said, wriggling off, her beginner waddle showing a full set of soft buns that were starting to pick up cellulite, 'because now you're going to eat this!'

Lilith's eyes widened at an entire tray of eggs, a dozen poached eggs.

'Um, eating, i'm not sure if I'm in the mood to,' Lilith tried saying, only for the gunner to shove an egg right between her lips.

It turned out Amara really was quite hungry, horrible as that dough had been she had worked it off and then some and her muscles were always hungry  and she gave a little smile after munching down the warm egg. Until the next one was shoved right into her mouth. That was also good...and so was the third. And the fourth. By six she was getting a little full and by nine she was uncomfortable.

'Eat you captured tiger! Eat!' Moze told her.

'I'm *umf* getting full,' Amara said through her tenth egg.

'Eat slave!' the gunner laughed, shoving in the rest two at a time.

Amara tottered in her seat and swallowed. She looked down in panic past her pointed breasts, relaxing only when she saw her muscular stomach hadn't swollen, mighty abs holding firm. Protein was familiar to her after all, no problems keeping it in. The Siren smiled, while Moze frowned.

'Your punishment is not yet complete!' she decided, 'I've been too easy on you!'

She clicked off, her swaying buns  keeping Amara's attention until she returned with a large steel bowl filled with thirty other poached eggs, steaming and full of protein. Amara was getting full and tried to say something, but Moze grabbed her by the arm and pulled her from the chair, making her kneel on the soft carpet of the luxurious suite with the eggs in front of her. She smacked the siren hard on her steely butt, looking over her flawlessly hard curves, tracing the perfect swell of her thigh muscles towards her tight pussy, something she knew to be delicious.

'Eat dog!' Moze commanded.

Amara hesitated and took another half hearted swat, the gunner clearly pulling her hit.

'Eat or are you such a pussy you can't even do that!' Moze cried.

Amara frowned, not willing to admit she couldn't take it. Caught in the fork of pride and vanity, the siren was forced to bend down and gorge. Glad her hair was in a pony tail, she kept eating, flushing that she was forced to eat with just her mouth due to her hands being cuffed behind her.

'Come on, stupid thing, ugh its almost too tight...,' she heard Moze mutter behind her.

'Problem?' the Siren gasped, feeling her stomach groan a bit as she finished.

She could feel herself swell up and frowned at it, hating any flaw no matter how temporary.

'That you aren't only the half way point!' Moze told her, strutting by without the skirt on, wearing some sort of strapy thong.

When she turned around, the heavy bowl overflowing with eggs, Amara's eyes widened to see the gunner was wearing a strap on. Not a huge one by any means but given how Moze had been butter in her hands the whole time it gave Amara pause. She was the dominant one in this relationship, not the gunner, she was the tiger, she was the predator, she was...

'Eat slave!' Moze cried again, sliding the bowl of eggs in front of her, 'while I take my pleasure from you!...if that's okay with you...'

'I am, ugh, the merest slave to your pleasure,' Amara said, shifting around to not be so sore.

Soreness meant muscles growing stronger but the soreness in her belly was annoying. She was already stuffed to the gills and the pile of eggs was even larger this time around. It made her feel sick and...why was she wet?

The Siren blinked. She couldn't be enjoying this could she? She was the Tiger of Partali, powerful and strong, she loved being the dominant one beating any challenge...so why the hell was this turning her on? A tingle was going up from her clit, making her thighs twitch and her stomach quiver. Amara's nipples hardened and her breath came faster as Moze's corsetted stomach pressed into her hips.

Moze was about to explode. This rush of power, of being dominant was amazing. The gunner felt powerful, strong, commanding, her self esteem skyrocketing. She was sweating with excitement, her clit throbbing as the strap on's rear pressed into it even before she entered the siren. She took it slowly, hoping she wouldn't hurt her comrade/fuck buddy.

'I...I...oh, oh, ohhhhhhh,' Amara sighed with pleasure as Moze sat her hands on her hard flanks, their rhythm joining together as one.

Back and forth, back and forth, gentle and slow. Moze's hands drifted downwards, finger tips like magic as they brushed against Amara's full stomach. The gunner copied Amara's own motions from previous stuffing sessions, alternating light touches with powerful massages in the massage. Then one hand drifted lower, gently flicking and rubbing the Siren's clit.

'Go slave, let yourself go...,' Moze said, leaning onto the siren's muscular back, her blue tattoos beginning to light up in sync to her moans, 'go, go, go. I command you to..oh, ohohhhhh yeeeessssss.'

The siren gave a long moan, her abdominal muscles relaxing from their clench, letting the full bulge of her egg gorged gullet expand outwards to its fullest. Just the feel of the heavy bulge in Moze's hands, the statue of bulge she'd carved out of Amara's abs, made the gunners eyes cross and she felt herself start coming, falling forwards onto Amara who managed to hold them both up, pushing back with her thighs to be laying back first on top of the thrashing mech pilot who was on Amara's circular bed.

Amara was still gasping and groaning, on the edge of going herself until she looked in the mirror of her chambers. She was bent over Moze, her stomach pressing into the air. It was distended and swollen by half a foot, sticking out like a pregnant woman's.

She came like a thunder clap, the lights in her room shorting out as electricity surged around her, circuit breakers flipping and leaving them in complete darkness. The two lay panting and groaning, not willing to get off each other. Amara, still cuffed, broke contact first, rolling to her side and breaking her cuffs with a grunt.

'I need...I need to ...work out,' she moaned, trying to rise and just passing out on her bed.

Moze rolled onto her own side, spooning the naked, stuffed siren and running her finger nails over Amara's stomach. She knew she couldn't sleep, the corset was poking some very sensitive flesh, but damn, she knew exactly why Amara liked to be the stuffer rather than the stuffed.

And she wanted to do it again.

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Chapter 7.2 Calories are Key, 2/3

One week after her recruitment, Maya strolled through the bucolic park deck of the Sanctuary IV, breathing in and taking in the sights and smells of nature.

Of course, the nature smells were artificial and Maya hadn't been able to stroll since she'd broke the 230 lb mark a year ago. Right now calling her glacial pace a waddle was stretching it, the obese and grossly stuffed Siren was almost toddling between her heavy thighs and painfully engorged belly. Her breathes were shallow, partly as to not split the groaning seams of her costume and partly because she was so full of food she could barely inhale. Maya's instincts suggested she phase-lock herself and telekinetic-ally hover to her destination but the rational part of her brain said that she really needed at least a little bit of exercise.

A large rock next to a big tree by a babbling brook called to the blue haired woman's pillowy hips and she struggled up a small rise, one hand on her lower back and another on her gut for support. Plopping down was an immense relief off her legs, Maya's once slim stems had become flawed columns, wobbling and smacking against each other from thick ankle to inflated thigh and with very little muscle under the dough. Most Sirens had been nerds in their prior life and Maya was no exception, she loved reading while sipping a nice mug of cocoa and it had only been the strict regimen implied on her by the Corrupt Order of the Storm that had planned to use her as a living weapon that had made her the slimly curvaceous girl she'd been and years as a gun toting vault hunter that had kept her that way. Her phaselock powers didn't use much energy nor did they boost her metabolism, although the blue hair had been a change made

Once her days as a vault hunter were behind her, Maya immediately went lazy. Helping Krieg deal with his devastated psyche was a hard fight but one that burned very, very few calories while adding inch after inch to her measurements. Munching down on the endless stream of cookies that her ex-psycho boyfriend baked had added twenty five pounds a year to her ballooning figure: rounding out her cheeks until her cheekbones had vanished, bulking out her breasts until they were bigger than her head, thickening her thighs until a waddle was unavoidable, growing her gut out until it covered her sex, widening her hips until she needed two chairs and gloving her trim arms with gentle wobbles of fat. Her ass had become soft and flabby but didn't have much bulk.

Maya's entire outlook was soft, relaxed and peaceful. She didn't mourn her lost figure, she merely accepted the new her as herself. She'd become very disinclined to violence, honestly losing track of her prized Maliwan SMG, but was fully willing to help out Lilith's fight against the tyrannical twins. However, she was a little upset about the pace.

Twenty five pounds a year is two pounds a month, the pace by which a thin woman twenty year old become an obese thirty year old. The only thing to notice is pants getting tighter, more of a bounce in your step but the warning signs come slow and aren't measured in physical misery. Right now, after a week aboard the pleasure yacht, Maya was miserable. Not unhappy mind you, she was talking with old friends and new and constantly spending time with her boyfriend, but the ex-vault hunter was stuffed to the gills 24/7. In seven days she'd packed on thirteen pounds and was only seven away from her goal of 300. She was merely days from being obese enough to open the vault on Promethea, why she had to be so fat was still difficult for Tannis to explain, something about ablative mass for channeling energy, but right now she was on a break.

Maya pulled out a book from her bag, an ancient text of siren lore, and began reading as she rubbed her stomach, stretched taut with cookie dough, melted chocolate and marshmallows.

'I'm a human smore,' Maya mused to herself, swearing she could feel a new roll forming in her belly fat.

She'd never thought to get up to 300 lbs. Maya had known she'd been getting big and then that she was big and getting bigger but well, 300 lbs was a bit large. Her knees were complaining and she got tired doing the slightest physical activity. Today was the first afternoon in a week she'd not been bulking and her stretched stomach groaned and grumbled, both upset and hungry despite feeling packed to the brim with hyper fattening food. She was bloated and a bit dizzy and had insisted on a walk while Krieg cleaned up his baking implements just to clear her head, finding herself noticably more out of shape than she'd been just a week ago.

Maya knew that it was worth it, that the Calypso twins had to be stopped from consuming the Vault Guardian beasts and becoming unstoppable, but the price for that was her custom made fat girl clothes being a snack away from ripping off her body. Amara dashed by, a muscular goddess totally in control of herself and Maya felt a bit of shame to be such a buttery blob of a woman. She was far too fat to run and even the merest exercise left her exhausted but the other Siren was a vision of power and discipline. Her aversion to cookie dough was foolish, there was such a thing as too fit, but it made Maya blush to compare herself to the darker woman.

A bit awkwardly, Maya crossed her legs into a lotus position. Weakening muscles and ever accumulating amounts of fat were robbing her of her flexibility, making meditation harder. At some point she would have to shed some of this excess, probably not enough to return to her old normal but to at least make daily tasks easier and to start the family she one day wanted. Still, to do that there would need to be a galaxy to live in. The thoughts of that struggle ahead put a little fear into her, Maya knew exactly how hard it would be to get in shape again, but to fight that fear the obese Siren began her daily breathing exercises, determined to gain control of her self.

In and out, in and out, in and out, in and out.

Her breathes were shallower now and each exhalation made her breasts push tenderly into her bra, but soon Maya found herself completely at peace, even when a small, persistent *ripping* sound followed up the seam of her pants.

.....

Amara ran as fast as she could, trying to outrun her own mental turmoil.

Muscularly curvy body crammed into a minuscule pair of purple spandex shorts and sports bra, Amara was a mauve blur around the bucolic park deck of the pleasure ship. Her running shoes bit into the dirt and grass, sinewy legs pumping and steely arms pulling as she hauled into her tenth mile at a near sprinting speed. Sweat beaded on her body and her breathing was deep and easy, making anyone think the perfectly athletic Siren was deep in the endorphin haze of a good run, at peace.

But anyone who could see Amara's eyes would have noticed their frantic, haunted gaze.

Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights had been what Moze selected for their sexual escapades, selecting the hour and a half before Amara went to bed. Apart from having to beg off time from the rest of her little harem it didn't impact Amara's day much, except for what happened in those ninety minutes. She was the Tiger, brave, fierce and fearless, heroic and generous but dominating. Fully in charge, fully in command, fully in control. A protective Tigress, but a Tigress none the less.

Except for the last three nights where Moze had been the cocky dominatrix and Amara had been the eager, timid submissive. Moze had printed out a set of cat ears and a collar for the taller Amara, complete with a bell and a tag listing Moze as her owner. The Siren should have refused to put them on, her pride should have risen up in protest and she should have become indignant and angry. Instead she'd meekly bowed her head and let the huge titted gunner buckle the collar on before kneeling down, getting handcuffed and being berated and spanked while she gorged on bowls of various goodies until Moze had gotten her strap on ready and things had started up in earnest.

Amara's mouth was dry as a desert in very real fear. The little stab of panic she'd felt when Lilith had been depowered was magnified a thousand fold, because that undermining of her identity came from outside. But this?

She was the Tiger of Partali, fearless vigilante, powerful vault hunter and she...liked kneeling on her knees and stuffing herself silly while being spanked and told she was helpless. She was getting wet just thinking about being completely under Moze's petite heel, of losing every iota of will power and discipline, of eating and eating whatever was put in front of her, gorging until her stomach groaned in pain.

So far all of the bdsm' snacks had been healthy (yogurt and berries, synthetic turkey jerky and dried fruit, grilled fish and vegetables) but the size of them had been immense, leaving Amara with an immensely bloated stomach that Moze had made her beg to have rubbed. To some extent Amara was fine with that, her muscles and powers gave her a big appetite for food as well as combat and sex and with everything she needed the extra calories to bulk up like she'd wanted. Partially thanks to Moze's feeding she'd gained four more pounds of hard muscle in the last week, bringing her up to 154, lean, lethal and lithe pounds.

But the night before, Moze had said...

'Should fill this up with ice cream and chocolate sauce for you,' the gunner, newish love handles popping out of her too small corset, had said as she picked up Amara's bowl and swayed off to the digi-structor, 'instead of just healthy stuff.'

And Amara, kneeling on the ground wearing just a collar and cat ears with a stomach already bulging with fish and broccoli, had felt her already moist pussy flood with desire. There hadn't been any concern for her muscles getting covered up or her vaunted figure being less than perfect, just a complete wish to do anything that Moze asked her too. And that had terrified her. If Moze laid out a gallon of ice cream drenched in chocolate sauce, Amara would gulp it down without a second thought for what it would do to her abs until the morning after.

Far from being steely and unbreakable, Amara found herself totally wrapped around Moze's finger and terrified of what could happen there. It was making her feel weak and miserable, her identity undermined, and she had no idea what to do about it. Amara saw a short, girthy form in front of her, one that sent a spike of terror through her soul.

Moze was taking a walk, wearing a pair of size too small Vladoff shorts and T-shirt. It showed off her soft legs in a way that made Amara want to have them wrapped around her and the swish-sway of her plump ass made her eyes bulge even before she noticed the Gunner's enormous breasts jostling left to right, so big they could be seen from behind. New love handles poked over her shorts and pressed between them and Moze' t shirt, a sure sign that her gain was starting to flood out past her dominatrix's now E cup breasts and to the rest of her body.

Amara felt herself moisten at the sight of the fat gunner, 170lbs of plush, soft woman that she'd molded from stick-thin girlishness. But also fear, because if anyone could ruin her, it would be Moze who could do it with just a word. She had to do something to seize control back, to be the Feeder instead of the Feedee...

....

'I am incredibly out of shape,' Moze groaned to herself, finishing the first mile of her walk.

The gunner used to jog three miles a day and while she didn't set any records or particularly enjoy it, she'd averaged a 7 or 8 minute mile. But now after a mile at a fast walk, the chunky gunner was miserable: her cheeks were red, her lungs burned, sweat covered her body, her shoulders screamed with the effort of holding up her breasts and her atrophied muscles trembled in exhaustion. Too much time on her ass had tuned her into a complete dough ball with no muscles and no wind, hampered deeply by the more than sixty pounds of fat she'd packed on in a few weeks.

'This diet is not working at fucking all,' Moze grunted, hefting up her increasingly considerable gut beneath her breasts, 'although maybe if I ever stuck to it for more than one meal a day...'

Moze had turned herself into an insatiable glutton with an immense stomach capacity and thoroughly ingrained fat girl habits. Her attempts to curb that met with daily failures, the beefy gunner not able to keep a diet past breakfast without getting so hangry she had to over eat at lunch. The fattening goodies Amara had gotten her hooked on were still the building blocks of her meals and exercising in any fashion was hampered by her spectacular boobs.

'And if I didn't have these maybe I could actually exercise,' Moze sighed, hefting her immense tits, 'if I tried running with these they'd hit me in the face...'

Today Moze had eaten a thousand calories worth of pancakes and syrup for breakfast, done a light set of hand weights and walked a mile. She was ashamed to say it was the most active she'd been since finding that new reactor for her mech and that she was exhausted. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, demanding the pampering that she'd become unaccustomed too, and her muscles complained at the effort.

Part of her wondered why she was bothering trying to stay in shape, piloting her Iron Bear as a complete fat ass racked up more kills than she ever had as a skinny machine gunner. Maybe it was pride, a desire to stay somewhat in control of her figure and not just become a massive, out of control pig of a woman. To hold onto some vestige of being a proper badass instead of a butter ball. To be well, if not Amara's equal than at least able to kind of keep up.

'heh, well I found a way to do that,' Moze mused to herself, remembering the siren with her stomach stuffed to the brim and a cat collar around her neck, begging for a belly rub in her post orgasmic bliss.

Becoming the dominatrix had surprised the mech pilot but seizing that control had made her feel tough and confident, she could make the Tiger of Partali purr at her touch. It also made her feel closer to the taller Siren, the shared vulnerability linking the two together. What really surprised her though was Amara just going fully into it, giving into everything and-

'Moze, looking good there,' Amara said, sprinting up and then jogging backwards in front of the just on the edge of waddling gunner, 'say, you want something to eat?'

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Chapter 7.3 Calories are Key pt 3/3

Mad Moxxi had possessed one of the most envied frames on Pandora and the galaxy at large for forty years.

Ignoring her carefully preserved face, the entertainer/spy/seductress' boasted an absolutely tiny waistline even when not in her corset, a girlishly slender 23 inches uncinched and an absolutely tiny 20 inches when hauled tight. Moxxi didn't have a lot of muscle tone there, nothing like abs, but it was perfectly flat and not really pinch-able. Upstairs of course were her fantastic E cup balloons which were admittedly not perfectly natural, having been altered and tweaked a bit with careful new-U treatments to be far perkier than such large breasts would normally be. Impossibly firm and fully round torpedoes topped with cherry red nipples, always pushed up towards Moxxi's pointy, painted chin by the straps and laces of her corset. Down below was the serial monogamist's ass, a flawlessly sculpted badonkadonk puffed up with genetic alterations and kept that way with daily lunges and squats, the one serious exercise the former gun slinger still did. Her trim, always displayed legs were wrapped in fish nets to give off a good view of their perfectly slender shapeliness to her many patrons and suitors.

Moxxi had to confront the loss of that figure at 11:38 pm, Promethea time, while the captured pleasure yacht HQ of the crimson raiders loitered over the corporate world.

It happened in Moxxi's new and expanded nightclub, an immensely posh subsection of the Sanctuary IV packed with brand new slot machines, gambling tables, drink cabinets of actual alcohol and holographic strippers.

'Oh, I've hit the big time now,' Moxxi's told herself, the artificially youthful woman's eyes lighting up at the thought of how much cash she could make here, 'once we get the twins beat, we park this over a planet and just rake in the do-dollars.'

Moxxi had corrected herself from saying dough. Just like she'd stopped using words like 'packed' 'plump' 'fat' or 'thick.' It was less that she was in denial and more that she thought the rapid inflation of her backside was temporary and didn't want to think about it too hard.

'Need to get the stripper holograms open though,' Moxxi said, sashaying over towards the computer controls, frowning as her hips swayed farther than she'd expected and hit a craps table, 'little narrower than I'd thought it was though.'

The over plush seven time divorcee placed herself in front of a key board and camera hidden into the wall. At a word they emerged and Moxxi began typing, displaying impressive technological skills as she overwrote the Maliwan ownership protocols and set them all to herself, hacking through firewalls and passwords with ease. Shameless flirt and nymphomaniac she might be, but the byword for agelessness was also a technological genius.

'Time to get this thing running,' Moxxi said, selecting the stripper protocol, 'with me as the main attraction.'

Moxxi wasn't so body unconscious to have it scan her current figure.

Her thighs had gotten to thick for her fishnets, so she'd stopped wearing them and switched to pants. Which she'd promptly grown out of and their replacement were wearing thin in the inner thigh as she started to properly waddle. Feminine hips had girthed out into sloppy saddle bags of lumpy, unflattering fat while her ass had grown into a floppy shelf of cellulite and stretch marks that had to be hidden behind increasingly snug bustle skirts she was starting to sag out of. Neither pants nor skirt could hide how enormously wide she was getting, growing more sharply towards a pear by the day. While a chubby tummy was squished into near flatness by her new corset, which also held up her slightly sagging but otherwise unchanged breasts, the other addition was in her face. Beneath the thick makeup Moxxi's sharp cheek bones had rounded out into a lazy puffiness, while her pointed chin had rounded out. It was making her face paint seem less sexy and more comical the rounder her face got, harder and harder to hide.

Yes, Moxxi was well, unacceptably heavy to her own standards. While not as big as Lilith, Moze or Maya, Amara's other lover had left skinny behind and was running out plumpness. She was avoiding the scale and trying to stay behind the bar as much as possible, but even a non-investigatory eye would notice that Moxxi was on the wrong side of 160lbs. Although her face hadn't aged past twenty five, being so plump was making the previously perfect woman look older, helped by her slumped shoulders and lower breasts. It was all just temporary though, these diet bars would kick in any minute and make her skinny and sexy again...right?

'Here we go, echo-net footage of me on Sanctuary II,' she smiled, bending down to put in a memory card image of herself in a bikini

There was a loud, embarrassing rip and a sudden sensation of chill on Moxxi's ass. Swallowing dryly, the horrified entertainer twisted around to try and see the damage, of course seeing nothing but her covering bustle skirt. Moxxi twisted round and around, both accidentally hitting the 'record' button on the keyboard and putting a lot of strain on her overloaded corset. Seams strained and the ribbon stretched, fabric fighting a losing war of attrition against fat eager to be liberated.

'Oh, its not as bad as I thought,' Moxxi told herself, catching a glimpse of the small, completely hidden rip just as her corset completely failed.

The ribbon tore in twenty places, the corset flaps giving away from top to bottom. Moxxi's new floppers bounced out, looking lower than they ever had, and her pale paunch surged out, covered in angry red pinch marks from her corset. It wasn't that big of a belly but it took Moxxis pants button with it, the button flying out and lodging home in the thumb drive slot. Moxxi blinked barely able to comprehend what had happened until she noticed that the record light was flashing on the camera and the thumb drive was damaged.

'God fucking damn it, ya piece a crap!' Moxxi hissed, slipping into her long hidden Hodunk accent by mistake, 'stupid fucking....uh, okay, think Moxxi what are you going to do to fix this...'

Okay, she couldn't upload archive footage of her old non-temporarily fat self anymore. And given her non-permanently but for right now very puffy features...

Another rip sounded, the pressure on her pants from her ass finishing the earlier rip and taking the tear down to her crotch, turning her pants into assless chaps.

'I need to call someone fit...until I can get back in shape,' Moxxi got out in her normal posh voice, 'okay, um, think there's tons of hotties on board. Lilith is...fat now. Maya...also fat. What about little Moze? She's...not so little. Alright, that leaves...Amara! Yes, sexy siren stripper holograms will work great.'

Moxxi got on Amara's private line in a hurry, finding the siren answering slightly grogily, 'Moxxi, what's going on?'

'Need you in the new casino sugar, got an idea for a stripper hologram and well, you're the only one I can use at the moment,' Moxxi said.

'Please, you think I'd put my body on display for everyone to see just because what? I'm proud of how much work I've put into it and want to show off?' the Siren said, letting it hang for a moment, 'I'll be there in twenty. I'll need to do some extra arm exercises to make my biceps really pop out.'

Moxxi let loose a little sigh of joy that she'd gotten the one skinny girl on board signed up and knew she'd make it worth the muscular siren's time.

But she also found it kind of odd that Amara was now the only thin girl he knew and the thought wouldn't leave the over plush show-girl's head as she munched another diet bar.

 

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Chapter 8: Rising Stakes, Rising Weights, pt 1/4

'Come on Lil, get your act together,' the ex-siren muttered under her breath between bites of cream cheese, honey and a little bagel as she tottered around the blurry, luxurious captain's quarters aboard Sanctuary IV.

The once sensual siren was wearing a decent approximation of her old outfit: red combat pants, a yellow shirt and a leather vest. Of course, the pants were painted on and straining at the seams, size fourteens that after weeks of lounging about in sweat pants felt painfully restrictive even if the garment might technically fit. That was only a possibility though, because Lilith wasn't yet ready to try the inevitable fight closing the button would be. Just getting them over her suddenly beefy ass was hard enough and she was letting her heart rate return to normal as she waddled through her messy room with her milk-pale avalanche of a gut sagging out through the open zipper.

For once only a little bit bloated, Lilith usually turgid and stuffed to the max stomach sagged, having succumbed fully to gravity without a belly full of junk holding it up. A double belly of standing rolls was now well underway, rippling and wobbling with every small motion the depowered commander made, sweat already forming from the minor action of waddling her out of shape bulk around the room. Nothing hinted at the slender waist Lilith had once boasted of, neither individually nor as a whole. Taken apart, the prominent slabs in front and the floppy love handles hanging over the brim of her pants, red marks already forming, and the squeezable chunks of back fat surging over her waistband pointed to a lover of carbs in solid and liquid form, who drank candy like water and soda like champagne. Taken together and Lilith had the mother of all muffin tops, pushing her supposedly relaxed fit shirt up over her stomach and revealing the six quarter inch and dull red stretch marks on each side of her deepening belly button.

'Where the hell are my glasses?' she wheezed, voice high and raspy, an asthma attack coming on.

She took a puff of her inhaler to calm herself down a little, feeling her chest expand as she inhaled. Lil's breasts pushed forwards and failed to meet the cups of her bra, the C cups clearly far, far too optimistic. The DD melons granted by her siren powers had vanished away, leaving her with the barely Bs she'd had most of her life. Stretch marks were on each of their sides too, revealed by the recent shrinking, and they were honestly saggier than when she'd previously been this size. But Lil knew that was temporary, she'd get back to a C cup again...around a hundred pounds from now.

But worrying about the contrast between pitiful chest and foot blocking gut wasn't her main concern. Lilith had a briefing to give her vault hunters in half an hour, maybe less now, and needed to get her notes. Unfortunately telling notes apart from Bunkers and Badasses sheets when you have to put the papers three inches in front of your eyes to see them made finding them a bit difficult, especially when the wreckage of a three evening gaming session littered the big table in your room.

Between herself, Maya, Moze and Amara they'd had a lot of fun, but the four women had packed a way one hell of a lot of snacks, a forest of empty bottles and bags and boxes rising up around the rockslide of polyhedral dice and carefully painted figurines and sheafs of papers. It reminded Lilith of her old apartment, a mess of gaming paraphernlia home to a complete geek and total virgin. Weirdly enough she didn't feel any shame in returning to that state, it was comforting but she still felt frustrated.

'Where the hell are my glasses!' she hissed, putting her chubby hands on her head and feeling them, 'Oh.'

Sliding them down made the room 90% less blurry. When Tannis had made them the prescription had been perfect but Lilith was deteriorating fast and would need a thicker set of lenses soon. Still, she was able to find her notes on the king sized and still unused for sex (Amara saying she wanted to wait and pop Lilith's fat girl cherry when she hit full morbid obesity and hurry towards the door.

Her stomach, kept mostly empty to fit into her pants, rumbled in protest at only eating three bagels that morning and Lilith ordered the solid gold food synthesizer to print her out an emperor sized candy bar to quiet its grumbles. While she did, she noticed in one of the many tall mirrors that the 200lb cream puff who used to be the galaxy's most badass woman's pants were still undone.

'Oh shit,' Lilith remembered, putting her much thicker and yet weaker arms on either side of the flaps and pulling.

She felt chins bunch under her once pointed jawline as she looked down, face reddening around her rebudding and medication resistant acne and sweat immediately forming in her multitude of fat rolls. But the woman who beat Handsome Jack wasn't going to quit just because of a mere issue like several inches of her own lard preventing a button closing. Deploying the tricks of a life time of being overweight and poor, the now decadent resistance leader hauled the zipper upwards by angling her back, moving her fat up instead of in. Then came the moment of truth, inhaling deep as she could with her asthmatic lungs, Lilith sucked in her stomach and got the button closed.

A seam popped somewhere and Lilith was careful to slowly release her gut, tugging the pants down and leading her muffin top pour over. She looked at herself in the mirror, taking in her moon round face with its blemishes and hurriedly covered them up with too much concealer, how her shirt was pushed up so far it was essentially a tube top to the tiny tatas within and how her thighs were now rubbing together half way to the knee. The redhead grimmaced, she'd gotten fat before after all but it had taken her most of high school to go from skinny nerd girl to 200 lb pizza faced nerd girl and now she'd done it in a few months. It was unreal, it had to be related to losing her siren powers.

Or maybe, highly illegal weight gain chemicals a certain jacked Siren had programmed the ship's computer to dose the food rations of every woman but herself with.

'Its only temporary,' Lilith promised herself, sure that Amara, her big strong, steel bicepped and tritanium abbed girlfriend would soon get her her powers back, 'just think of it as a vacation from worrying.'

With that she waddled off, cursing how long it took to walk anywhere on this giant, luxurious ship and wondering if she should order a mobility scooter. Back at her fattest she'd been on a waiting list for one and while she knew the pounds would come even faster, it would make her life so much easier. She occasionally felt a cold breeze on her rump and kept guessing it was due to how her back fat poured over the pants, not realizing it was due to the seam tearing during the buttoning, a six inch hole in her pants revealing a purple thong showing Amara's cockily smiling face.

fight vault beast

Obese Tyreen arrives after VH break in, grabs helpless Maia and depowers her.

Krieg kicks their butts, they flee.

Need to get to Jacobs and charge vault key but only one siren.

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  • 3 weeks later...
On 11/27/2019 at 10:27 PM, Batman76 said:

Oh fuck I had my notes at the end of this. Oh well.

Your notes are hilarious 😆 I just take long showers and imagine the plot in my head

2 hours ago, shammyboy said:

So I know I'm just a leech who contributes nothing to your work but as a huge Borderlands fan who is waiting for the steam release for 3 as I refuse to use Epic, I need more of this story. 

*Epic* Epic... epic... epic

There is a great disturbance in the Force, as if a few chapters cried-out and then all was silent 😔

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Rising Stakes, Rising Weights, pt 2/4

 

Movement turned out to be the big problem in getting the bulked out Maya to the Vault.

This new "cheat" way to charge up one of the Vault Key fragment could only be done once and the charge would only last moments at best. Which meant that the three hundred and nine pound blue haired glutton couldn't be left to lay back on the pleasure barge and indulge in her preferred activities of reading, stuffing and belly rubs but would have to be taken into close combat. Once that wouldn't have been a problem, for Maya was a Vault Hunter, one of the most dangerous human beings in the whole galaxy even before being counted as a Siren.

But now?

"Has, uh, has anyone seen my SMG?" the obese siren wheezed as she waddled towards the ship's Fast travel station.

Her step was a pathetically slow waddle, her doughball legs having to be forced past each other with every motion. Already the weakened muscles were complaining about the half mile walk from her palatial quarters, the extra thirtyish pounds of blubber she'd packed on in a few days of round the clock gorging pressing harder on her joints. She'd been crammed into a new pair of sweat pants whose seams were already being tested by the shapeless bulk of her wobbling ass. Cookie dough was the major part of Maya's diet and cookie dough her figure had become, her totally toneless tummy turgid to the touch with a gallon of double chocolate chip and completely bare, the middle zipper of her black jacket hanging wide open to reveal  a protrusion of rolls and bulges from her FUPA up to her wobbling boobs resting in a sports bra. The Siren's once elegant face was totally round, reddened with the effort of her short walk.

"I think I left it, maybe on one of the buffet tables in the orgy room?" Maya asked as she saw the other Vault Hunters.

"Maya, Maya, don't worry about a little thing like taking a gun into combat," Amara smiled at her, the muscular siren's mind nearly ripping apart at the tidal wave of butter waddling towards the group, "we'll do the fighting for you. Now have a seat and a snack, wouldn't want you burning any energy off..."

If you could even get those sausage fingers through the trigger guard. Gods of Partali, you are a big wobbly sack of delicious fat I just want to stuff until you're too big to ever get up again, flickered through Amara's mind, making her bite her lip to not drool.

The weeks on the pleasure barge had changed the darker, stronger siren too. Moze had gone from timid and submissive to the full on dom in their relationship, three days every week saw Amara as the obedient sub gorging herself while being chained up. Sometimes to a chair or to the ceiling, sometimes bound on the floor, but always with large bowls of food in front of her and a demand that she gorge while Moze spanked her, teased her and licked her before taking her with a strap on. The sex was some of the best Amara had ever had and it scared the living shit out of her.

She liked being the sub. She liked getting force fed. She liked Moze bending to her ear and calling her a fatty, rubbing the brown sphere of Amara's stomach, stuffed to the brim with lean protein and grilled veggies.

Amara had gained weight from the force feeding. Good, muscular weight that made her biceps and triceps pop even more thanks to all of her exercise, that made her ripped quads and hamstrings bulge against her tight pants and her heart shaped rear so hard bullets would bounce off of it. She'd finally crossed through the 150s and 160s and was now knocking at last on her goal of 170lbs. But what scared her out of her mind was that Moze could add chocolate to it and she'd eat every bit...

"Gotta admit, I'm not ready for going into battle without my mech," Moze said, waddling up with not too much less effort than Maya, trying to adjust the strap of her Vladoff assault rifle around her monstrous F cup boobs, "I'm just hoping no piece of hot brass lands in this cleavage, right?"

"Oh with all the shields you have, that won't be a problem," Amara told her, smiling at both the canyon of tata flesh before her and the oozy beer gut flopping over Moze's belt, extending a finger to lift up a roll of fat and tap the green light on one of the Gunner's energy barrier projectors, "they'll be sure to protect all of you..."

Maybe it had been wrong to supercharge Moze' gain with ever more illegal cattle hormones to the point that the gunner's once small gut was big enough to sag itself. Maybe the way that Moze's boobs were now swelling against the fabric of her sports bra, or mushrooming around it to push against her white t-shirt directly, and sore from preparing to lactate was evidence Amara had dosed her with too many fertility drugs. Maybe the fact that Moze had gained thirty pounds in fourteen days and popped right into the 200s, fresh stretch marks breaking out across her body and now needed a knee brace for walking, was a sign that Amara should slow down.

Maybe.

"Yeah, there's a lot of me to protect though. Just as long as I can be the gunner on the car," Moze chuckled, patting her ever thickening waist which was pulling even with her boobs, "provided I can fit into the turret. Oh wait, you forgot something..."

With a dexterous flip of her soft fingers, Moze pulled a silvery metal collar from her belt. It wrapped around Amara's neck, the siren freezing to see it, and the gunner had it in place before the taller woman could move. Moze smiled up at her, running her fingers over the silver cat collar, the ID tag of which read "Kitten" and had the gunner's name and echo address listed to call if found.

"Wouldn't want people mistaking you for someone else's property, would we?' the gunner grinned.

"I...," Amara tried to say, thinking of a way take off this humiliating public sign of her private habits but being interrupted.

"Death comes in the shape of four," the robotic hunter FL4K nodded walking up and accompanied by his pet Skag and the giant psycho Krieg.

"Time to kill, uh, fight the meat, no the bad guys!" the hulking Krieg yelled, revving his saw axe, "If of course, my little love muffin is ready?"

Maya looked up from the very literal and not at all muffin she'd been eating, crumbs falling into her sweaty cleavage, "Just let me finish up my snack..."

....

It was unfortunate that the Promethean vault was still in an area held by the remaining Children of the Vault.

The original plan had been to have Maya inside the armored cab of a customized tank that the still more morbidly obese than anyone else Ellie had made but the usually size conscious woman hadn't counted on the sheer spherical ness of the swollen Siren. Maya was far too fat to squeeze through the hatch of the invincible vehicle, meaning that they had to go with plan B: plopping the blue tattooed porker into the back of an armored truck and putting pedal to the metal before anyone shot them as they dashed down the long, straight avenue of a flood drain.

"Stop moving around!" Moze grunted, stuffed like a cork into the truck's turret as she fired its built in catapult, "Ha, got you!"

Yet another bandit speeder exploded from the impact of the bomb catapult, its shrapnel making another smear on the battle stained urban planet. Moze punched a jiggly arm into the air and felt rather than heard a rip as her sports bra started to go. Blanching, the obese gunner pulled her arm back down but could already feel her right boob start to sag to the side.

"Don't get cocky, Moze," Amara told her, weaving the truck around a mine and through a barrier, several Children of the Vault psychos jumping aboard the vehicle in an ambush.

They picked the wrong car. Amara's glowing fist smeared the one that tried going through the driver's side window, while FL4K's sniper bullet exploded another that jumped on the side. The two that managed to land on the bed stared as they saw a sweating, succulent Siren laying flat on her back and eating a candy bar, which was the last thing they ever saw as Krieg's giant hands came down on both their heads.

"How are things *puff* sorry, how are things down there?" Lilith's wheezy, higher pitched every day voice came over Amara's head set.

"Just a few million psychos," the ripped Siren smiled, "not much more than practice. How long until I turn?"

"Half a mile," Lilith said, interrupted by the slurp of a milkshake loaded up with chemicals designed to make the calories go straight to her sagging gut and away from her ever shrinking boobs, "you can't miss it."

Amara indeed, couldn't miss it. "It" was a big, glowing crater that had been punched through the cityscap with the Sanctuary IV's weapons array just before they'd teleported down. The air around it was still hot with the laser discharge, but the shields of the Vault Hunters prevented them from being burning. Amara gunned the engine down the glassed slope and through some scalded CoV scouts to find themselves at a shining Eridian structure, polished stones and strange metal statues staring back at them.

"Oh damn, this is worse than I'd feared," Amara tut tutted, hoping athletically out through the window and raising her driver's shades, "Lilith, there's a problem."

"What?" the obese general of the crimson raiders said back on the ship, looking up from an on ship menu and at the display beamed through Amaras sun glasses, "oh shit, stairs."

The knees of the viewing fat girls all winced to see a long set of stairs going down, down and down. They were too steep and narrow to bring a truck down, or even Moze's mech suit. Once Maya had been helped down from the truck bed and Moze had sucked in her gut just enough to pop out of the turret, the group of mercenaries stared down at the bottomless spiral of stairs.

"Maybe if we rig up some sort of what, can we digistruct an elevator?" Amara asked, guessing that this was a thousand foot drop or more.

"No, there's no time," Maya wheezed, "I do have something better tough."

The obese siren raised her hands, abundant arm fat hanging down, and closed her eyes. A blue sphere of energy wrapped around them, lifting the party of their feet and slowly, slowly falling down the chamber. Concern grew in everyone's stomachs as they saw sweat start pouring off Maya's brow and pooling in her breasts, the Siren hadn't exercised either super power or body recently and it was going to be a race between the rate of her stamina depletion and their rate of fall to see if they made it. But Maya lasted until they got to the very doors of the vault, resulting in a fall of only a few inches. Between the two of them, Krieg and Amara managed to catch the butter ball Siren, who could barely even breath she was so exhausted.

Moze landed right on her rump and felt her sports bra go completely. Heavy, swollen breasts surged out painfully to slap against her gut and test the fabric of her thin shirt. Inch long nipples with tea cup areolas were clearly outlined in sweat and the mercenary hurriedly summoned her mech and scrambled floppily inside it before anyone could see. Amara was so focused on the sight of the ultra-chubby mercenary pulling herself into the mech that she almost missed Maya begin charging the Vault Key.

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6 hours ago, shammyboy said:

So I know I'm just a leech who contributes nothing to your work but as a huge Borderlands fan who is waiting for the steam release for 3 as I refuse to use Epic, I need more of this story. 

It really is a great game. Just wish that I had more time to play.

 

3 hours ago, >_< 0_0 said:

Your notes are hilarious 😆 I just take long showers and imagine the plot in my head

*Epic* Epic... epic... epic

There is a great disturbance in the Force, as if a few chapters cried-out and then all was silent 😔

Glad someone liked them.

 

And I know :( I'm holding myself to a resolution to not start anything new until that is finished.

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Rising Weights, Rising Stakes, 3/4

Amara was used to fat women screaming but usually it was because her face was between their corpulent thighs, but the scream Maya gave was far different.

Turning away from the drool worthy sight of Moze's engorged tits, the muscular, tan siren saw the obese, pale one holding the conical vault key fragment up in the air. Her blue eyes were rolled far back in her head and crackling waves of electricity were flowing off of her, shooting from her limbs into the key.

"SWEET PIE! LET IT GO!" Krieg yelled, the giant psycho hero yelled, bounding towards his fiance but getting knocked flat by one of the bolts.

"What's happening?" Moze yelled, hands over her ears.

"I don't know, its like she's being eaten alive!" Amara yelled back, feeling like her head was going to explode.

Maya grew brighter and brighter and brighter, to the point that no one could bear to even glance at her. Amara saw after images through her clenched eyelids and covering hands. Throughout the Siren kept screaming, louder and louder until her cries finally gave out and a hard *FWUMP* of air burst out in all directions. The key fragment fell to the ground with a hard, shattering sound and a moment later Maya did too with a light thump.

Everyone blinked, hearing the gate to the vault beginning to grind open.

"SWEET DUMPLING!" Krieg yelled, running towards Maya's prone body, "WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YOU?"

"Holy shit,' Moze wheezed, pulling herself up, "she's..."

"Skinny,' Amara gasped.

The woman who'd been so fat she couldn't get into a truck cab, so obese she'd needed three people to help shove her obese buns into the back of the truck and who'd been gaining weight so quickly she hadn't realized had blown past 300 lbs was now runway ready again, oversized garments hanging off her like a tent. Maya's legs were the slender stems of a runner, with delicate ankles and lean calves. Her cellulite studded couch cushion ass cheeks were now tight and firm buns that were perfectly smooth. Her waistline bore a firm two pack and her ribs stuck out like xylaphones beneath firm handfuls of breasts. Her face was patrician lean, with sharp cheek bones, a clean jaw line and huge blue eyes. She looked to have lost a hundred and eighty pounds in seconds.

"Its horrific," the muscular Amara said, realizing what the insane Tannis had meant by "Ablative body mass", "all that beautiful fat, just wasted..."

"MY CHUBBY SUGAR PLUM!" Krieg yelled, delicately picking her up, "SPEAK! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

"Just, just a little chilly," Maya shivered, voice higher and breathing easier, covering her chest with her tattooed arm, "and um, slightly hungry. Don't think I'll be much use in a fight for a little bit."

While Krieg pulled an emergency roll of cookie dough from his back pack for her, the vault doors finished grinding open and the guardian beast burst in. It was a strange quadruped the size of a tank, with back up arms and a secondary head bent around itself and a slightly disgusted Amara, Moze and FL4K set to fighting it while Krieg covered a near unconscious Maya. It was a dangerous opponent but the three were veteran badasses and managed to keep themselves alive and unharmed...mostly.

For Moze it was a tougher fight than normal due to her destroyed sports bra. The obese gunner was already tired from physically firing a gun in the car ride and with her hefty tits unsupported, the usual comfort of her Iron Bear mecha was ruined. Her bigger than head sized floppers bounced and wobbled every time she went to hit a button and each burst of fire from the mech's guns or grenade launchers caused her back to scream along with the bouncing.

"Ow, ow, ow," she winced, feeling something twinge and slip in her lower back more and more as she fired the grenade launcher.

Good posture could have helped, but the hundred pounds of pudge the once stick thin gunner had crammed onto her body had spread far beyond her boobs. Moze' butt was a bit too wide for the seat, making her sit slightly forwards and hunch her shoulders, magnifying her low back pain. Half way through the fight and she was groaning in silent pain, taking hits because she couldn't focus. The monster they were fighting noticed her slow reactions, targeting her mech more and more.

"Moze, get down!" Amara yelled as the beast charged up some sort of energy beam at Moze.

The Siren ran forwards to deliver a slam and a punch of her own, but she was too late. The Iron Bear mech was sent spinning backwards across the room, right before Amara's fist exploded giant monster's head. Gore, money and guns rained down onto the battlefield but Amara was running towards her downed Dom's smoking mech with tears in her eyes.

"Moze! Moze!" the muscular siren yelled, jumping onto the prone Iron Bear and ripping apart its shielding with her bare hands.

Moze coughed on the inside, pinned in place by the air bag but otherwise unharmed, "Hey Tiger, I'm uh...kinda stuck. Could you help me with this?"

Amara let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, popping the air bag with one quick punch and then going to work on the tight safety harness release hidden under Moze's paunch. Angry, at herself for feeling so attached and at Moze for making her feel that way, Amara teasingly poked her gluttonous handiwork in the fupa.

"Your mech might need a stronger engine the way it was moving out there," Amara insisted, pulling up the porky gunner.

"It wasn't the engine it was," Moze said gingerly, "well, a girl my size needs some support."

Getting Moze out of the pinned Iron Bear was no easy task, Amara had to essentially carry the tired, pinched glutton out of the cockpit but they emerged to find everyone else but Maya going over guns. The once obese Siren was wearing a knee length dress that had once been her shirt, trim calves showing beneath it and looking rather bashful.

"I have to say, I didn't realize that was going to happen," she admitted, looking down at herself and feeling surprised to not feel chins bunching when she did and not to see an apron gun hanging over her sex, "this is the first time I've seen my feet in a while."

"That sounded like it hurt," Amara told her, wincing to see how svelte and graceful the other siren appeared now, as she herself supported a very soar Moze.

"Well, it did. It was like two years of exercising in less than a minute," Maya admitted, patting her now narrow hips, "can't argue with the results though."

"Eah," Amara shrugged, "you look like you could use a sandwich or ten."

"I do admit it is strange being the thinnest known siren now," Maya said.

"Wait...what do you mean thinnest?" Amara growled with a raised eyebrow, her pride stung.

She was perfectly fit. Perfectly strong. Jacked to hell and back. Flawless and without imperfection, a temple of lean muscle! What was she implying?

"Well, you're so muscular, you're a lot bigger than me," Maya shrugged, "maybe I should put on some muscle now that I can exercise again."

Another fit Siren? What was she thinking? No, Amara considered, only one Siren could be fit. The rest had to be bloated, weak husks of themselves to make her look better...

"Best to wait on that, don't want to injure yourself," she said.

"Might be a good idea," Maya admitted, sitting on a downed pillar, "I'm a bit tired. I feel like I'm ready to faint."

Amara deposited the sore Moze onto the same pillar, then took a look at the guns left by the monster. FL4K had already piled them by rarity and type but none really caught the Siren's eye beyond a Hyperion shot gun she picked up and cocked.

"Death is served and the beast slain," FL4K intoned, "Let us now loot its lair in full!"

"Yes," Lilith said over the echo net, cheeks packed with something sweet and salty, "You guys should go check out the vault."

"I think, I'll wait here," Moze groaned, rubbing her sore back and wishing for a jacuzzi, "if you find an H cup bra, let me know?"

"Will do, but I think you should go au naturale more often, you'll acclimate to the size more easily," Amara grinned, eyeing the heavy, sweaty dugs pressing against Moze's shirt and wondering how low she could get them to go.

Speaking of, Moze's shirt was soaked beyond what she'd sweated. Amara looked carefully and saw that streaks of liquid were running down from the gunner's broad aerolas, smiling to realize those nursing drugs Moze's food was laced with had made her start lactating. Damn, she was like the Tiger's own private cow now....

"I think I'll stay here too," Maya agreed, "not sure I'm up to much walking right now. Whoo, not used to being so light and delicate."

"I know girl!" Lilith yelled over the link, seeing the rail thin siren and feeling hope rise in her flat, flabby chest even as she shoved another sticky handful of caramel into her mouth back on Sanctuary IV, "damn, you look run way ready killer!"

Amara grunted, annoyed any of her prize fatties were even thinking of getting thin again and headed towards the Vault portal with FL4K. Maybe some new guns would take her mind off of this. Or let her afford even more delicacies than she did already to shove into her darlings.

"Do you need anything, my too skinny unstuffed potato?" Krieg asked, calming down now that she was okay.

"I'm really fine, dear," Maya smiled, "Can you go and check that there's a spot for Fast Travel nearby? I couldn't phase lock a kitten right now," Maya smiled.

"Of course, my previously plus sized pearl," the giant lunatic said, "I'll do that and then we can have you in bed with cookies and warm milk in a hot minute."

Krieg lumbered in the opposite direction, Maya smiling to watch him go.

"He really seems to like you," Moze grunted.

"Well, it takes all kinds," Maya smiled, "so, how are you and Amara? You two seem pretty close."

"We're kind of a thing, I guess," Moze admitted, "I don't know. Sometimes its like she doesn't want me, its that she just wants, well all of this."

She ended by gingerly touching her heavy tits. Ugh, why were they all wet? And why did she smell milk?

"Well, its best to be valued for who we really are. If she is right for you, she'd accept you no matter what," Maya told her.

"I know, but at the same time, its weird, its like she's hiding everything about herself beyond this image of being a tough badass," Moze shrugged, regretting that immediately.

"Sometimes, we have to lose everything to find out who we really are," the once obese Siren smiled.

"Exactly," a snide, somewhat out of breath voice cut across the room, "for instance, that Firehawk bitch didn't realize she was a fat lump of lard until I took away her powers."

Tyreen Calypso waddled into view, more than 250 pounds of tan fat crammed into a much too small black body suit. Its buttons hung open to reveal her flabby gut and small breasts, while the pants were disintegrating across her dumpy legs. Her sharp features had faded into bloated mediocrity, making her short punk white hair cut highly ill advised and her stomach was big enough she wasn't wearing a gun belt.

But while the power sucking Siren wasn't very menacing, her tall, sword wielding brother and the small army of psychos with them were.

Moze reached for her side arm, but found that she hadn't even struggled into her own pistol belt. Maya tried to phase lock the obese cult leader, but fell to the ground panting after a few heart beats, too drained to even hold her.

"Grab em and hold em," Tyreen told two of her barely dressed cultists, who grabbed the helpless vault hunters, while she patted the body of the monster they'd killed minutes before, its body disintegrating into pure elemental essence and being absorbed into the obese Siren.

Tyreen grinned, her tattoos spreading even wider across her body.

"Now, I was planning on getting back into shape by channeling all this fat off through that key," Tyreen explained, "then celebrating by munching down on this thing. But once you assholes took the Zanara I figured I'd go on a crash diet and let that psycho muscle bitch get out of shape, then grab her right after the fight when she was weakened. Didn't count on them pulling out someone so...festively plump from their sleeve."

"Oh fuck off," Maya grunted, "you're way fatter than me."

"Fuck yourself, this is all temporary," Tyreen huffed.

"Only after we get the second and third vaults open," her brother Troy reminded, "remember, they're a 500 lb and 1000 lb requirement so you're gonna be plus sized for a while."

"Ugh, don't remind me," Tyreen sighed, then brightened "but now that we've got a back up siren, she can get fat for me!"

"I don't know sis, this one's pretty thin now. I think it'd be easier for you to get to 500 and slim down at once than for her to surpass you," Troy said, tapping Maya's fatless waist as she struggled, "look at her, her arms are twigs...what?"

As soon as Troy touched Maya's tattoos they started to glow. He took his hand away like he was singed and then, gingerly put it back. Holding on, the tattoos glowed brighter and brighter, Maya beginning to scream again as Troy watched.

"What's happening?" Maya screamed.

"Your powers! I'm getting your powers!" the weaker Calypso twin cheered as Maya's tattoos faded rapidly away, "I can do it to, I don't even need  you sis, you fat sack of shit!"

"Hey watch your mouth!" the hurt Tyreen sneered back, "I'm the one running the show!"

"Not now," Troy grinned at the fat, slow moving and unarmed Tyreen, drawing his sword, "Now its my time to-"

An immense hand grabbed the male Calypso twin around the head and on the other end of that hand, was Krieg.

"TIME TO POUND SOME MEAT PUPPETS," Maya's fiance roared.

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  • 3 weeks later...

Rising Weights, Rising Stakes 4/4

Amara staggered out of the vault portal, every muscle trembling under the vast weight of her loot.

The muscular siren had found the vault filled to the brim with all sorts of valuable weaponry, the generating algorithims of the ancient alien's vaults having rewarded her beyond her wildest dreams. From missile launchers to shot guns to revolvers, Amara had been able to upgrade every one of her weapons, hold enough back for Moze to do the same and have enough guns left over to sell for months, if not years worth of vault hunting money.

"You three missed one hell of a...," the rippling Tiger began as she light of the portal faded, words trailing off when she saw that the already damaged entrance room was now filled with over a hundred corpses.

Children of the Vault cultists covered the ground in a second carpet. They'd been punched, kicked, hacked and occasionally shot, all of them at extremely close range. Anger that she'd missed an even bigger fight filled up the melee hungry Siren but that was rapidly eclipsed by fear for her team mates. Maya might have been rendered fighting fit again but she'd been exhausted and without her mech to fight in, Moze was too much of a pampered fatty to fight, her massive tits having grown so big she couldn't aim a rifle.

"Moze!?" the ripped Siren yelled, dropping her loot and drawing a shot gun as FL4K ported in next to her from the vault, "Moze? Where the hell are you?"

"Signs of a slaughter, death has walked here," the sentient robot noted dryly.

Very real fear cut through Amara's body. Moze was her fatty, her big pampered flabby, freshly leaky blob and the Siren swore increasingly heavy vengeance on the CoV for daring to even make her feel so worried. Racking a shell, Amara began to search the room only for an echonet call from Lilith to interrupt her frantic search.

"Amara?" the Siren feeder's other girlfriend radioed in, voice more breathless than normal, "Amara can you hear us?"

"Yes, there's been a fight, I can't find any of them!" the sole fit woman on board the ship roared, tossing bodies high in her search.

"We know, come back to the ship...things have changed...," Lilith wheezed.

....

The palatial medical bay of the Sanctuary IV was crowded with the Crimson Raider's command staff when Amara burst into it. A little of that was numbers, but mostly it was due to the sheer size of the majority of the officers. Krieg was a seven foot hulk of scarred muscle with doorway filling shoulders, but the rest of the group (Lilith, Moze, Moxxi and Tannis) were more horizontally challenged than vertically.

Lilith was pacing, the immensely gut heavy woman's belly wobbling back and forth with each step. Sweat coated her acne riddled skin and she stopped walking to puff on her inhaler, her muddy brown eyes widening behind the thick spectacles when she saw Amara stride in.

"Oh good, we were afraid they'd gone for you too," the obese red head said, shoulders sagging a little farther to see her.

"Gone for me?" Amara said, spotting Moze standing next to the flat chested Lilith.

Short Moze was blessedly unhurt beyond back pain, a brace was already wrapped tight around her belly to counter that, pale rings of fat pouring over its bottom and top. Her huge boobs were still unsupported, the H cups hanging low and loose in tank top and she smelled faintly of milk from her battlefield burst of lactation. She gave Amara a soft, gratified smile to see her, one the usually uncaring Siren returned with a huge grin and a hug to the short woman.

"You scared the hell out of me there," she said quickly, a blush touching her tan cheeks.

She was the Tiger of Partali, the predator who left her prey fattened. She didn't care about them...but she still had been so scared for the helpless Moze. Of all the girl's she'd fattened up no one had ever meant so much. And no one else had ever brought her such pleasure by dominating her...

"Krieg saved us from that fucking Cult," the foul mouthed machine gunner sighed, chins wobbling, "but not before those fuckers...they got Maya."

Maya sat on the table, wearing only a freshly digistructed pair of panties and covering up her again firm D cups with one arm. The blue haired woman was still rail thin and perfectly fit, returned almost to her curvy slim glory days save for one minor detail: she was lacking the blue tattoos down the left side of her body that showed her Siren powers. Amara gritted her teeth in rage to realize what had happened.

"Tyreen, that insane bitch, by the Gods of Partali, I'm going to track them down and beat every set of powers out of her!" Amara roared, slamming a fist down onto a table and leaving a noticeable dent.

"Thank you Maya," the now powerless  ex-siren said, "but right now I'm just glad to be alive, all thanks to Krieg here."

She reached out a slim hand to her hulking boyfriend and the giant man nearly purred at her touch.

"And you getting to the twins might be an bad idea," Tannis hummed as she took Maya's blood pressure, the insane omnidisciplinary scientist scribbling down a heart rate that was well within normal, "in fact, data indicate it would be the worst idea since my toaster insisted he needed a bath."

The scientist was still looking mostly thin, although her thighs were starting to test the seams of her pants, her belly had puffed up enough to jiggle atop her button and her face was a little softer as the decadent life aboard the pleasure yacht got even to her. The benefits of the insane woman beginning what she thought was a romantic relationship with the soft serve ice cream machine in her room.

"And why would that be a bad idea? Do you think I can't kick Tyreen's ass?" Amara boasted, flexing her bicep, the extra muscle she'd added in the last weeks making it pop.

"Tyreen? Yes, Tyreen and Troy? No," the scientist shook her head.

"It turns out both of them can drain siren powers," Maya explained, "Troy didn't even know till he'd grabbed me."

"Which means we can't risk you in the field until its time to charge the next vault key," Lilith brought up, the obese commander putting a chubby hand on her girlfriend's rock hard shoulder, her wobbling gut pressing into Amara's firm hip, "even if you handle one easily the other just needs to touch you to drain you and then how will we get the next vault open?"

"The next vault...why would I be the one who...," Amara trailed off, mental math spinning in her head.

There were other vaults out there for the Calypso's to drain and the Crimson Raiders had to stop them from getting in. Which meant opening them up first with Vault Fragments....which meant a fat siren. And she, gloriously ripped Amara, the Tiger of Partali, was the only Siren the Raiders had...

"But, I can't get fat," the muscular woman stammered, mouth going dry, "I mean, look at me..."

Her eight pack involuntarily flexed, an impressive display of muscle displayed across the rest of her body. Jacked thighs, bulging abs, rockhard pectorals, steely biceps and titanium triceps. Amara was probably the fittest woman anyone in the room had ever seen, her tight battle gear only displaying her perfect fitness.

"Fat wouldn't even dare to come onto this!" she boasted nervously, sweat forming on her face as she slapped her rock hard abs, "my metabolism is too fast and I'm too in shape...I can't get fat!"

"Oh no, you can!" Tannis chimed in happily, "as it turns out the ship's medical cabinets have a frighteningly large amount of bovine hormones and illegal fertility supplements, once dosed with them your hunger will sky rocket and your metabolic rate will collapse as your muscles atrophy."

Amara's purple eye twitched, stung as she realized her own tactics were being turned unknowingly against her.

"I...who'll be the team's melee fighter, eh?" she said quickly, summoning her projected energy arms from behind her back, "how will we open the vault without me? Who else will pound those psychos?"

"P-pppp-pound?" Krieg hummed, single exposed eye twitching in memory of violence, "Ppp-pound the mmm-mmm-meat pupppettttss?"

"Not now Krieg, later, later," Maya said, cooling his ardor with a touch to his massive pectoral.

"I've got some contacts out to some friends of mine on that front," Lilith said, puffing on her inhaler, "other old vault hunters. We'll be able to replace you with them, its more important that we can have you open the vault."

Replaced? No, no she couldn't be replaced...Amara was sweating harder than she ever had working out. All of her glorious muscles twitched nervously, fight or flight instinct kicking in. Nothing was worth covering up her carefully crafted muscle with fat, nothing.

"But, we don't even know where there is another vault key!" the former vigilante said, voice cracking with insane nerves.

The echonet console kept tuned to the Calypso's live-scream channel burst to life. The camera showed a heavily edited picture of the obese Tyreen draining the vault beast on Promethea dry, annoying synth music buzzing around her, before cutting back to live footage of the flabby siren kicked back in a beach chair with a tall milkshake in one hand.

"That's right super fans, we've got one vault beast down and one to go to open the great vault!" Tyreen said, shamelessly sucking down six ounces of creamy milk, "And we've stolen another Vault Key fragment from those dipshits on Eden VI, the Jakob's corporation but the nerds we've got enslaved tell us that the new key is going to need..."

Tyreen looked down at her bloated, flabby, two hundred and fifty pound body, crammed in a humiliatingly revealing bikini. Her heavy belly was if anything fatter than Lilith's and like her opponent the twin's breasts were tiny.

"five hundred pounds of me... to help out with that Troy will be leading the Children of the Vault in battle while I kick back in safety here on this Maliwan dreadnought we stole," Tyreen wheezed, almost whimpering, "so send in those donations, I'll be here on camera...eating them."

"Maybe, maybe I can go find Troy and kill him," Amara said hurriedly, "and then Maya's powers will go back to her and she'll get fat instead..."

"Amara, what I said in the vault...you are much heavier than me. It'll be easier for you to get to five hundred pounds than me," Maya said, the rail thin woman's soft voice like the impact of an execution'ers axe onto Amara, "even if you got my powers back right now, it would make more sense for you to get fat than me."

Amara felt her legs tremble. Everything she didn't want to happen had collided together into some sort of perfect, horrible nightmare where everyone needed her to get fat. She was out of excuses, out of other options and out of time. She had to run, she had to get out of here less these crazy people try and cover up her muscles...

There was a brief slap that it took Amara a moment to realize came from her own steely backside. She looked down, noticing that Moze had clapped her hard on the ass, the gunner shaking a soft hand.

"Don't worry about it babe," Moze said with a chuckle, "it'll be fun to have you be the fat one in the roleplay, think of it like a role reversal. You won't have to be the feeder for months."

The Siren's hard faced turned beat red. Even though her attraction to big girls was obvious having it out there so blatantly made her embarrassed. It was one thing to privately feed up most of the women in the room but to have it said out loud...

"I...uh...," Amara said nervously, trying to think of something, anything.

"Listen, no one will think any less of you, Killer," Lilith said, tugging her sweats down under the pressure of her flabby gut, "unlike the rest of us, you're getting fat for a reason..."

"Well I, its just...," the muscular Amara stammered, only for Moze to take her hand.

"Don't worry about not knowing how to start, I've got a few ideas on that," Moze chuckled, "Lilith, do you want to come? Some role play expertise might be good here."

The two obese former badasses didn't always see eye to eye. They'd been jealous over the divided attentions of the muscular Amara since the start yet now the thought that there'd be rather more of her to go around seemed to entice both of them.

"It's just that," the sweating Amara said as Lilith took her other hand.

"Come on, kitten," Moze teased, easily dragging the unresistant Amara on through the door, "we're going to make this fun. You do want to eat for me don't you? If not, all you gotta do is say the magic word...and you wouldn't say no to me, would you?"

"Its just, I have an image," Amara stammered fearfully, desperately hoping that the short, huge titted gunner would stop because she knew she couldn't tell her no...

"Oh don't worry, it'll just be temporary," Moze smiled, patting Amara's hand as she led her out of the room, Lilith waddling behind.

Across the room, unnoticed, the pear shaped Mad Moxxi's blood was boiling.

Maybe it had been hubris to not admit she was becoming medically overweight. Maybe it had been prideful to not note that Amara's ardor for her was the only thing increasing as fast as her hip measurements. Maybe it had been dumb to not put two and two together and equal chubby chaser but the realization that Amara had liked her getting fat made gears turn in the bar tender's head. Amara must have been the one to make her fa-far larger than normal...

"Temporary my ass," Moxxi glowered.

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